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#mob! bucky x parent!reader
sebastianstansqueen · 1 month
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Lost In The Shadows Fourteen
A/N: This one is short, sorry, also have began writing my next series, my stuff about that will be up once i’m finished posting this story, hope you like it, If you want to be Tagged, either send an ask or comment on this or click on Taglist open.
Wordcount: 1,268
Warnings: Big Angst, Guns, Character Death, Drugs?, Some Domestic bliss, then obviously Brock, pregnacy, If forgot anything let me know please!
Masterlist // Series Masterlist // Taglist open// 
Tags:@cherryblossomsky- @babylooneytoonz- @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond- @leyannrae- @avengerlex - @pineprincess - @nik2write - @dorothea-hwldr - @rosie-posie08 - @scxrletrecsmarvel - @sebsgirl71479- @missvelvetsstuff- @hadesownhell - @casa-boiardi- @winterslove1917- @hallecarey1- @ash-craze - @barnesxstan - @unaxv - @bethexo07 - @itsmytimetoodream - @sebastians-love -@stoneyggirl2 - @ordelixx - @arunabrak
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Brock was pissed, it had been almost a year and there still had been no sign of Y/n nor James anywhere, and while Andy now seemingly was in control of her business, he couldn’t hold New York by the balls the way Y/n used to, so Brock turned his anger into an advantage. His substance had been selling like crazy around New York and it was only a matter of time when Y/n would find out he’d began spreading it on to her territory, and it was also only a matter of time for her to find out, he was so close to finding her and James, he just had to wait a little longer.
Meanwhile, Y/n and Bucky, had been living in Romania, Bucky’s memory had been coming back little by little. As for Y/n she was still the control freak as ever, still controlled what she could from a computer, halfway across the world, even with her patrooting stomach that made it annoyingly hard to use her computer. She rested her head against the couch cushion, with a sigh of slight irritation. Bucky came up from behind, telling from the way her face was scratched something was wrong. “What's going on?” He asked me to sit beside her. 
“First lil’ bean is driving me insane, they're moving a lot and I can barely see over my stomach, and work stuff, Brock is dealing on my streets, and he is still looking for me.” She stressed. 
“We’re fine and safe, shouldn’t that be all that matters?” He tilts his head. 
Y/n’s lips pulled up slightly. “If only it were that simple, I don’t just take care of only you I and our kids with what I do, I take care of my men’s families, I take care of all of the people in my territory, and if I let whatever shit get out, then look what happens, shure New York’s filled with druggies, and people on the stress, but when theres and out break it gets ten times worse for both populations.” She explained what other extra duties she had as a leader in the mob. “That’s why they respect me and fear me, because I could take it all away in a knight from someone, but I also made things better after Henry died, I helped a lot of people, get better, from pills and other crap.”
Bucky nodded, now understanding the importance of what she had done back home. “All I can say is don’t stress too much.” He put his hand over hers that was resting on her stomach, he smiled softly, she closed the laptop.
Bucky and Y/n both stood in the kitchen listening to music that fit both of their tastes, the made a meal fit for kings, or a mechanic and his pregnant mob boss wife. Bucky could tell the difference between now and the begging of their relationship, now she was comfortable enough to wear tank tops and really anything that showed any scar she’d gained in the past, sometimes, Bucky would ask about who she got each one, she could recite the story as if it happened yesterday, yet no emotion held in her voice, and then she’d acted as if she never said anything. He couldn’t understand how she did it.
As they both laid in bed, Bucky’s arms naturally found a way on Y/n. “If you stay relaxed, the sooner bean will be here, and the sooner bean is here, the sooner we get to make another little mean and another.” He smiled, as he held her closely to him. 
“I’ll try but no promises.” She smiled to herself, as her eyes closed, Bucky soon followed suit, shutting off the lamp that was on his night stand.
Bucky rolled around to find his wife once again in the night as he slept, but soon was awoken by the cold silky sheets. He shot up, looking around the room, finding no sign of her he got up to find her. 
Y/n paced in the office that used to be Bucky’s dads, when he was a kid. She spoke in a demanding harsh whisper, at whatever unfortunate soul. “We’ve got to figure this out, I-we can’t move places at the moment Andy.” She huffed, clearly her anxiety raised, along with anger. “Why? That’s not your business at the moment, I don’t know if he has the phone tapped. Throw him off or something. He can’t find us not right now, bye Andy.” She slumped into the chair behind the desk, sweat appearing on her forehead, her breath picked up slightly. 
Bucky came up, taking her hand in his. “It’s gonna be alright.”
“Brock knows where we are, and I don’t think that we can leave at the moment because I am nine months pregnant, and soon enough I could give birth.” Y/n explained. 
“He can’t access the island with anything other than a boat, we're fine.” Bucky reassured her. She nodded, knowing she could be overthinking this. “Let’s get back to bed.”
As a week passed, and then half of another, she started to think that she had been wrong. As they both had been getting ready for bed, the power cut out, Y/n and Bucky looked around in confusion as they stood in the bathroom, Y/n put her tooth brush back in the holder, and she moved into their room, Bucky was right with her. “Maybe a line went out.” 
“Nope, just me.” Y/n’s eyes whipped to the corner by the closet, Brock stood in the shadows, his hands in front of him with a pistol in one. Bucky tries to flick on the lights, when they turn on, they know someone else is there, all of them looking at each other, Brock’s jaw clenches visibly, when he finally takes in all of Y/n. “You could have had a good life with your husband and kid, why are you causing more trouble than it’s worth.” 
“Because you would kill more than you would ever help with whatever that shit is.” She hissed at him. 
Brock lifted his gun focusing on her chest, she had no way to defend herself, ironically the one time she didn’t carry her gun, so what else could she do but welcome death as an old friend hoping Bucky could at least leave. As the gun went off she prepared for the bullet, but it didn’t come so she opened her eyes looking around. “Get out!” She looked to where the voice came from, Bucky who was lying on the floor with a bullet in his chest and stomach. “Leave Y/n!” He said the best he could. 
Her leg’s moved before her mind, all she could see was Bucky there on the floor bleeding out, the pair of guards that stayed on the island met her down stairs. “Where’s Mr. Barnes?” One of them asked, she just shook her head. “Take her to the mainland. I’m going to go up there.”
The second guard came up to her, leading her out to the doc, she struggled to collect herself as they ran, when they got to the doc with a boat at the end, the guard helped Y/n on. “Y/n!” Brock Yelled form not too far from them. 
“Go, get to the Airport, and go home, or somewhere safe.” The guard told her, as he Started the boat before getting off quickly. The boat moved quickly on the water, Y/n waited to doc on the mainland, her face wet from tears as she docked and then got a taxi. She had no clue what was supposed to happen after this, she should have died.
When Y/n got on the first plane to New York, she immediately messaged Andy, wanting to have someone go back and get Bucky, maybe even they’d be able to save him. When she got back to New York, Andy had replied that he was right on it. As she took a private car back to her house, she felt empty like part of herself was missing. As she walked the path she had so many times, she slowly realized that this wasn’t home, at all. She walked into the house that gave her a pit in her stomach. Andy stood along with all of her men, all meant respect but she wanted to be alone, her jaw clenched, she still wore a nightgown that made her stomach stand out.  “Everyone except Andy, leave.” Her voice turned cold and stern. 
Andy stayed behind like told as all the other men filtered out. “See what you meant by you didn’t want to leave, now.” 
“Is he okay?” Her voice sounded desperate, and had a yearning interlaced. 
Andy’s shoulders tensed. “He, along with Brock and his men, weren’t there when they got to the island, Y/n, I’m sorry.”
She just nodded. “Go figure out what's next, I'm staying in New York, until this finishes up.” 
“What if-”
“I don’t care I’ll kill Brock Rumlow if that’s the last thing I do, even with my baby in my stomach, he killed my husband, I’m taking every part of his legacy possible, by the time this finishes, no one will even remember his name.” She spoke with passionate rage. “Go get me my information Andy.” She stood giving him a stern look, before he left.
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urdepressedslut · 9 months
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You’re Mine, Sunshine (masterlist) ♡
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♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader (Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au)
♡ Series Summary: Bucky gets picked by a very rich and respected man to be his daughter’s personal bodyguard. The Father warns him that it won’t be an easy job, that she is a brat and difficult to deal with. But what happens when Bucky meets you and you’re the complete opposite?
♡ Series Warnings: mentions of amputation, dark themes, violence, death/death threats, talk of parent death, fluff, angst, stalking, daddy issues, anxiety attacks/panic attacks, abuse, depression, depressive episodes, PTSD, dry humping, hints to smut, (warnings to be added as new chapters are released)
Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine ☀️
(SERIES ONGOING)
Last Updated: 9/8/23
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | SERIES 18+
⇨ Chapter One
↳ After Pierce interviews Bucky for the job, he warns him of you. Bucky is starting to rethink his decision, but when he meets you... you're not what he expected.
⇨ Chapter Two
↳ Bucky takes you home, and later finds you in the library. You both get to know each other a little better, but Bucky is hesitant.
⇨ Chapter Three
↳ Bucky has a surprise meeting with Pierce, getting informed about your secret admire. Meanwhile, Bucky tries to keep things professional, he’s hesitant to cross the line when you need him.
⇨ Chapter Four
↳ You don’t know what to think of Bucky after he took you to bed last night. Bucky can’t continue to keep the stalking situation hidden from you. Something is found on your doorstep.
⇨ Chapter Five
↳ Getting to know each other better doesn’t go according to plan. Bucky has to comfort you and fix the mess he made. Will you forgive him?
⇨ Chapter Six
↳ Bucky receives a morning visit from Steve, with the news about what was in the box. Bucky continues to think about what he should do. Should he tell you the truth about your stalker?
⇨ Chapter Seven
↳ Bucky finds you making a mess in the kitchen, attempting to bake and offers his help. The two of you get to talking and some reveals about each other begin to come out. Will he finally tell you about your stalker?
⇨ Chapter Eight
↳ After a surprise visit from Pierce, tension arises as he threatens Bucky of his job. Pierce wants to have a talk with you and it doesn't go very well.
⇨ Chapter Nine
↳ After the events from the other day, you try and cope with the reality of what happened. The world is a lot less colorful than you remember. Bucky helps comfort you after you realize you have no one left.
⇨ Chapter Ten
↳ Someone comes knocking at your door in the morning. Bucky answers and is surprised with who he finds. Are they going to help them or hurt them?
⇨ Chapter Eleven
↳ The tension can't be ignored anymore between you and Bucky. Steve shows up and he's not alone.
⇨ Chapter Twelve
↳ Reality is hitting you as you, Bucky, Steve and his men all venture off to a secret safe house only Steve knows about. The events from the last couple of days are starting to hit you with a sickening force, leaving you weak and crippled.
⇨ Chapter Thirteen
↳ Your dreams consist of random memories of your parents, but are they really random? Despite the past days of hell—you still find it difficult to resist Bucky. You two spend a heated morning together, devouring each other while you still have these moments.
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yourmidnightlover · 21 days
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forever?
pairing: mob!bucky x reader
summary: after being forced into a marriage you didn’t want, you become very cautious of your new husband out of fear of what he’s capable of when one of his employees makes a move at a dinner meeting.
warnings: anxious reader, threat of domestic violence (reader is just worried abt it), groping, please let me know if i missed something or need to add anything!
a/n: reader is very timid in this. i know a lot of people like a reader who doesn’t take shit and stands up for herself, but i often find myself in situations where i just shut down and don’t know how to respond… so this is kinda inspired by that feeling
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two months out of forever.
two months of what seemed like wedded bliss from the outside.
in reality, that “bliss” included sleeping in separate rooms, never even seeing each other unless necessary to make appearances for either of your parents. 
the ones who arranged for this to happen in the first place. 
you were just glad you were able to have your time for yourself. you thought you would use the time to continue writing for your book, but you’ve hit a serious case of writers block. so lovely. 
on the bright side, he wasn’t as controlling as your few friends had made it seem he would be. 
they had painted this picture of a monster in your head. a man who would loom over your presence during every waking second. a man who was controlling and wouldn’t let you have a personal life or secrets.
so far, he’s been the opposite. 
for some reason, that still leaves you unsteady. 
because they also painted him in a very violent, angry, red light. 
but maybe he had a mistress. if that were the case, he truly didn’t respect you or your family. it didn’t seem like bucky to do that, though. he wouldn’t ruin a business deal that benefitted him so much. 
the reason you married him was because your father’s finance business was going under, drowned in debts while the only options were to sell to the barnes’ or the rumlow’s. the barnes’ seemed the lesser of two evils.
the only way to smoothly transition your father’s business to be under the barnes’ control without raising any question of your father’s capability was to marry. if any questions were asked about why your father sold his company, the not so good side of the finance industry would trample after your entire family. the barnes’ would get a new company and their many clients, while your family wouldn’t become entirely blacklisted by the entire country, would be putting your family under the barnes’ protection, and there would be less questions asked as to why the company had been merged.
you had a few months of “leaking” images of you and bucky together into the tabloids to prepare the public for the news of such a big marriage. some were photos of you and bucky holding hands while walking. a couple of you at a restaurant smiling. a few staged kissing photos… those may or may not have been your favorite.
those times spent with him, in all honesty, weren’t bad at all. going for walks together at sunset, dinner dates, feeling his lips against yours…
you had gotten to know more about his childhood that the tabloids didn’t feel was important to cover. his favorite subject in school and how he actually lost his arm so many years ago. you learned each others’ fears and worries in life. your favorite thing to learn about him, however, was what he truly wanted in life. 
peace.
a couple weeks after the wedding, a few photos of the reception were once again “leaked” in order to sell the “too in love to wait” bit that everyone had started assuming upon seeing the first few photos of you and bucky together. 
but all of your history with him flew to the back of your mind as bucky knocked on your office door. 
“come in,” you replied hesitantly, not sure what he wanted from you for the first time since your wedding. he stepped through the threshold and stood at the doorframe. 
“there’s a work meeting tomorrow,” his hand remained on the doorknob, so stiff you’d think he might rip it off the precious white wood in seconds. “the men are meeting at the house. i wanted to let you know. the men in this business, they expect marriages to be of the… traditional values.”
you nodded with understanding, turning to face him with a forced grin. “so i should play the part of the doting housewife, huh?” no smile in return, so you bit back your humor in turn for matching his serious tone. “what food should i prepare, then? and uh, how many guests will we be expecting?”
“whatever’s easiest for you,” he shrugged lightly. “there will be 9 of us there.” with one final look in your direction, he left the office and didn’t return to say goodnight. 
-
the next morning you got to work setting the house up for the 6pm meeting your loving husband was hosting. 
you had decided to set up a buffet-style table outside of the main dining room where the meeting would take place. for the menu, you settled on simple grilled chicken with quite a few side options. roast potatoes, asparagus, sauteed carrots, green beans, and rolls. 
you were putting the rolls in the oven when bucky got home, seemingly entranced by the smell of all the food, heading straight to the kitchen.
“it smells amazing in here,” bucky called from the archway of the kitchen. you jumped slightly from the surprise, but swallowed down the shock and another weak smile. 
“thanks,” you nodded to the edge of the island where a large chalkboard sat, your handwriting neatly displayed on the board that listed all the food to be had. “the menu. i figured a variety would be nice, and who doesn’t like chicken, right?”
“vegetarians,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling a joke. but you knew better than that. “the men are coming in a little less than an hour. do you maybe want to change before they get here?”
you looked down at what you were wearing, a pair of blue jeans and a loose t-shirt clearly not worthy of someone who had married a barnes man. “right, of course. i’m sorry,” you finished setting the timer on the oven and ran upstairs to get yourself put together before bucky saw the tears trying to seep past your waterline. 
you settled on a black cocktail dress you had worn to one of your dad’s company events before the downfall… quickly swiping some makeup on to cover the exhaustion in your eyes and pulling your hair up to a more respectable updo rather than your typical messy bun. 
luckily you had become an expert at quickly getting ready from your time in university, as you were back in time to pull the rolls from the oven, but not before pulling on your apron. you’d be dammed if you got this stunning dress dirty right before this prestigious meeting. 
t-5 minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin and you could already hear lots of rustling from the formal dining room. you knocked on the closed doors before bucky opened the door for you. 
the men went silent as their gaze rested on you in the doorway. 
“the foods ready. buffet style?” your eyes didn’t leave bucky’s pretty blues, too scared to do anything wrong in front of his men. 
“that’s perfect, my love,” his hands gravitated to your waist before pulling your body taut against his, one hand moving a stray hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper. “you look ravishing…”
as he pulled back, you were sure your blush was evident across your cheeks. you tried to hide it behind a smile, shrugging with a shy ‘thanks’ leaving your lips. 
“what do you say to my stunning wife, boys?” his hand squeezed your waist once more before turning to the other men, ‘thank you’s being echoed throughout the room as they stood and made their way to the kitchen to make their plates. 
in a matter of minutes, all the food was gone. you figured it was best they liked the food, even if you didn’t get to try any of it yourself like you had planned. 
you got started on cleaning everything up with earbuds in your ears, starting with the dishes already in the sink from when you were cooking. then, you were sure to place the dishes that the food was in inside the sink for you to clean before starting on wiping the counters, then sweeping, then mopping, and then back to the dishes. 
you didn’t realize that bucky had called for a break in the meeting, however. you were in for quite the rude awakening when you felt a pair of hands on your waist, but not the ones you were semi-familiar with. 
you turned around with a gasp, shock evident on your face as you tried to piece together whoever this man was. blond hair, blue eyes… definitely not steve though. you knew steve well and had seen him often. 
you pulled your earbuds from your ears in attempt to better understand what was going on. his hands were still gripping your sides, but you couldn’t necessarily escape his touch. you were backed against the sink. even if you could fight him, you’d likely lose to his strong grip. 
“is the meeting-is it over already?” your voice was so much more cowardly than you’d ever expected yourself to be. 
“no, no,” he shook his head. “just a little break, some of the guys were getting antsy.” you leaned back further, trying to create some semblance of space between you. “i figured i’d say a special thank you, on behalf of all of us guys in there.” he let one hand cup the side of your face and neck, his other hand trailing down from your waist, firmly grasping your ass with a sqeeze before you jumped at the invasion.
“i don’t-i’ve got it…”
“john,” he smiled grossly, as if he could convince you to go to bed with him.
“no need for a thanks,” you tried to remind him. “i did this for bucky. for my husband.” your eyebrows rose, trying to emphasize that his boss was also your husband. 
“i’m sure he won’t mind you getting a little bit of extra special attention, don’t you?”
then, a growling voice cut through the fear running through your veins. 
“i think he might mind.”
you turned to face bucky with wide eyes before facing john, wishing the tears welling in your eyes would just go away. 
his hands slowly retracted, stepping back with a chuckle.
“sorry, sir,” he smiled before turning to face your husband. “she was just telling me how she wanted some extra attention, weren’t you, toots?” he tilted his head expectantly.
your mouth opened, nothing leaving in spite of your brain screaming at you. what would bucky do? would he take his side? would he believe you? would he hurt you? 
you’ve embarrassed him now… humiliated him in his own home. surely he’ll take action against you for this. 
your mind replayed stories your old friends had told you about him. how he would lash out at men that betrayed him. how he never took shit from anyone who showed him any disrespect. how he was the kind of man to shoot first and ask quesitons later.
and now, in a way, you’ve both betrayed and disrespected him. or at least, that’s what he’ll think. 
you didn’t even realize tears were flowing down your face until your sobs were interrupted. 
“enough!” you finally looked at bucky before his eyes softened for a second before walking closer to you. “go to the room.” he ordered sternly. 
“but the dish-”
“i’ll take care of it,” he interrupted gravely, “go. to. the. room.” 
“yes, sir,” you nodded and swiftly left the room entirely, collapsing against the door once you had shut it, sobs wracking your body. you held your knees against your chest before trying to regulate your breathing.
he won’t hurt you.
he has to protect his image.
you’ve embarrassed him.
you’re his wife.
you’re his business deal.
you’ve humiliated him.
he’ll hurt you.
you didn’t know how long it had been since the incident. 
your sobs had subsided. you had, at some point, moved to your bed. you were still rocking your body back and forth, trying to self sooth. 
and then there was a knock at the door. 
your body instinctively jumped at the sudden noise, although it wasn’t harsh in any manner, at least not one that you were expecting. 
he twisted the knob, slowly opening the door with slow movements. 
“i-i’m so sorry,” you began apologizing as soon as he stepped through the threshold into your room. “i swear-i swear i didn’t tell him that. i didn’t even realize he was there, i promise. i wouldn’t lie to you. i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry. please believe me.” your body was still rocking and you didn’t even notice he was as close to you as he was until you saw his hand moving by your head.
automatically, you assumed the absolute worst, your head ducking into your body like a fucking turtle, the meekest squeal leaving your lips mixed with a sob. your arms went over your head protectively, as if a bomb were about to go off.
“sweetheart,” his voice sounded so broken, so torn, so unexpectedly soft. 
you finally looked at him for the first time since he came in your room. his flesh hand was holding his metal one as if it were something that could kill. in ways, it was. 
“you-there’s no need to…” after looking at him for a second longer, you noticed that his eyes had tears that almost mirrored your own. “i would never, ever lay a hand on you. i’m so sorry for scaring you. i can’t…” he sighed. “i can’t believe i made you believe i’d ever hurt you.”
“i’m sorry,” you pleaded with him once again. 
“you have nothing to apologize for,” he hesitated to reach for your hands before settling on simply grabbing a spare pillow. “i came up here to apologize. for my tone earlier… i know john. he never knows his boundaries. i should’ve… you never should’ve been put in that situation. that’s my fault. that’s on me. and i will spend the rest of forever to make it up to you.” 
“you don’t have to-”
“no, my love,” he shook his head. “can i-can i hold your hands? please?” you, without hesitation, grabbed his hands yourself. “i need to make it up to you. you’re mine. you’re my wife. it’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe. and to have someone ruin that? to touch what’s mine in my own home? i’m so sorry.” he brought your hands to his lips, pressing at least ten kisses to each hand. he was so gentle and careful it was a good thing you knew better than to think it actually meant anything.
you were surprised, to say the least, at how tender he was being with you. 
how could you have ever thought he would hurt you? that he would raise his hand and swing? that he would cause you harm? he was here declaring that he would make up this incident for the rest of eternity when it wasn’t even his doing… 
“will you stay with me tonight?” his eyes lit up at the request.
“are you sure you want that?” he became a touch more reserved. “i don’t know if it’s a good idea since you were worried i would…” his voice trailed off.
“i’m sure,” you nodded before scooting over in the bed. 
sure, your marriage was arranged and didn’t stem from true love. you may not have talked outside of when absolutely necessary. you might have even been terrified of him at one point. 
but now, the thought of forever with bucky barnes didn’t seem half bad. 
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vxntagedior · 1 year
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protector
summary | the moment bucky fell in love with you
pairing | mob!bucky barnes x fem!reader
warning | angst, arranged marriage, age gap, insecurity, violence, fluff ending
word count | 1.5k
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You didn’t know anyone in that room. Staying flanked to Bucky’s side, letting him parade you around the room as he talked with the other men he did business with. It wasn’t no secret about what Bucky did, it was how you married him. 
Being the only child, and along with being a girl, your father wanted someone to pass down his business to, though offering it to you first, declining immediately because you couldn’t be a part of the mob, Bucky was next pick. 
Bucky came from his own lineage, his own family wealth, already the boss of his family business and now the head of yours. After getting married, you moved into his family estate, far from your father and mother, but having the little words of encouragement from your mother made it a little better. 
“If he ever hurts you physically or mentally, his reputation be damned, I’ll get you out of there.”
Bucky was the opposite of what you expected, he was respectful towards you since the wedding, making sure to put your comfort first even though your marriage was purely transactional. 
Your parents' relationship was the same, but your mother grew to love your father, and the way he worshiped her made her safe. You wanted that one day with Bucky. 
Giving a small smile to all the people you passed, there were a few men murmuring to each other about your relationship, some of the women glaring at you, all the same looks you received once you were married. 
It wasn’t no secret Bucky was handsome, powerful and wealthy, the whole package to women in the room, and they were envious, a little jealous. 
Bucky’s arm was around your waist, squeezing you occasionally, reminding you that he was still looking out for you. Coming up to a group of men, Bucky slid his hand away from you, shaking the hand of everyone. 
“And you all know my wife.” He smiled, reattaching his arm. Smiling behind your champagne glass, you just nodded, glancing over each other before your eyes widened. 
Brock Rumlow. 
Brock was originally supposed to marry you, but once your father heard about what he had done to a business partner's daughter, he cut ties with him. You remembered Brock in your father’s office, the two of them yelling back and forth, hiding behind a pillar, seeing him storm out the estate. 
Looking out of the corner of his eye, Bucky noticed how you tensed you quickly, looking down at the ground, keeping that in his head, he whisked the two of you away. 
“What’s wrong?” His voice was rough, turning so he could fully look at you. 
“It’s nothing.” You shook your head, not wanting to ruin his night. Bucky just looked at you, but you kept up your wall, “It’s fine, I just thought I saw something.”
Bucky knew you were lying but he wasn’t going to demand you to tell him, just nodding, “You tell me anything if somethings wrong, I don’t care.”
You just nodded, agreeing with him. 
Sitting down for dinner, happy that the two of you had a table to yourselves, but seeing as everyone was looking at the two of you, mostly you, waiting for your next move, like they were waiting for you to do something wrong. 
“Don’t worry about them.” Bucky whispered, “They’re just envious of you.”
That made you calm down a little bit, finishing up your dinner, making your way towards the stage. 
Watching Bucky walk up, you smiled, clapping loudly for him. Standing on the edge of the room, you stayed out of eyesight from everyone, well almost everyone. 
Brock had been watching you since the moment you walked in with Bucky. He knew it was you that messed up the arrangement, watching as Bucky came in at the 11th hour, taking all of it from him. 
“Well, well, finally alone Mrs. Barnes.” Tensing up at his voice, you tried to get away from Brock, not being past enough, him grabbing onto your upper arm dragging you away. 
“Let me go!, stop!” You tried to yell but it seemed like Bucky’s speech was ending, and as everyone started to clap, it canceled out your plea for help.
“Shut up, you bitch!” He shoved you against the wall, cornering you. Turning your face away from him, your arm starting to bruise, tears starting to cascade down your cheeks. “You ruined my life!”
“What?” You didn’t understand what he had been saying. Scoffing, Brock brought his hand to your face, smacking you across the face. Letting out a gasp, your hand instantly came up to your cheek, cradling. 
“BUCKY!” You tried to yell, some sound coming out before Brock covered your mouth. You knew what he was capable of, your eyes wide, pleading for him to let you go. 
“You know,” He smirked, his other hand slowly creeping up your leg, “I always wanted something from Barnes, his fortune, but I think I got a better prize tonight.”
Before anything could go further, Bucky had been looking for you since he was on stage, remembering where you were standing, seeing how you were gone. Scanning the room again, he saw how Brock was also gone, assuming the worst. 
Ending his speech early, he darted off the stage, making his way towards the back of the gala, hearing you call for him.
“BUCKY!” 
Eyes wide, Bucky followed the sound of your voice, running down one of the empty hallways, seeing you at the end of it. Seeing red, Bucky stormed towards Brock, shoving him off you, slamming him into the wall. 
“You piece of shit.” He spit at him, his forearm pressing against neck, Brock gasping for air, “You think you come here and mess with my wife.”
“C’mon Barnes, she was asking for it.” He smirked. Bucky’s eyes hardened, stepping away from Brock, before swinging a punch to his face. 
You gasped, your hands covering your mouth, not knowing what to do, if you should pull Bucky off him or go call for help, both a bad idea.
Standing there helpless, you watched as Bucky punched Brock til the point he was unconscious. 
Standing up, wiping the blood from his nose, Bucky turned back to you, seeing the two bruises on you. 
“Are you bleeding?” His hands were soft on your cheek, caressing the bruise carefully, not wanting to hurt you anymore. 
“No.” You whispered, “But it hurts a lot.”
Saying nothing more, Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulder, bringing you to the car, forgetting about the gala all together. 
“We can’t leave.” You protested. 
“Your hurt, nothing is more important.” He stated, leaving no room for you to argue. Letting you hold his hand the entire way home, your thumb slightly moved over his bruised knuckles, touching it softly like he did when he held your cheek. 
Driving in the estate, barely bringing the car into park, Bucky was already out the door, coming to your side, bringing you into the bathroom. 
Pulling out the first aid and medical equipment he had, setting you up on the bathroom counter, Bucky rummaged through it all. 
“Nothing’s gonna make it go away.” You whispered, not wanting to get him mad, “It’ll go away on its own eventually.”
You didn’t know what caused it, but watching him freeze, his head still looking down, you heard him let out a sob. 
“Bucky.” You said cautiously. Looking up at you, tears now in his eyes, Bucky couldn’t help but apologize. 
“I’m sorry.” He choked, “I’m so sorry.”
Wrapping his arms around you, Bucky cried onto your dress, his head pressed against your chest. Not really knowing what to do, you slowly cradled his head in your arms, running your hair through his hair. 
“It’s okay.” You whispered, pulling him away from you, wiping away his tears. “I never told you about it and you were protecting me, that’s all I could ever do for you.”
It was like a lightbulb in both of your heads had clicked, looking into his eyes, before looking down at his lips before looking up at him again. Bucky seemed to have the same idea, slowly leaning in. 
The kiss was soft, your hands still on his face, slowly moving your lips in sync with his. Pulling away, you rested your forehead onto his, smiling softly. That kiss was the first one since you were married and had been better than you imagined. 
Letting out a watery laugh, Bucky stood between your legs, his hands on your waist. “I wanted to do that for so long.”
“Really.” You whispered, you always thought Bucky never really thought about a romantic relationship with you. 
“And I know that we haven’t really been a married couple, and I didn’t want to pressure you into anything, letting you take the first steps. I know that I wasn’t your first choice, but I promise you, I will always make sure you’re okay, you are my number 1 priority, I didn’t marry you for your father’s chair, I married you because I knew that I could see a family with you.”
Smiling, you caressed his cheek, sighing softly. “I love you.”
Bucky always believed that he didn’t have a heart, he didn’t have any love in his body, never imagining he’d be married let alone being married to one of the most wonderful women he had ever met. 
“I love you too, my love, with my whole being.”
fin.
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sinner-as-saint · 6 months
Text
stealing hearts
Mob!Bucky x Thief!Reader 
Run-through: His mansion was highly secured, and yet, breaking in and trying to steal from him was rather easy for a skilled thief like yourself. Key word: trying. Of course you got caught by his men. And the mob boss was known to be ruthless, cold, merciless – the list of his villainy was endless – so you thought he’d end you the moment he laid eyes on a thief like you. However, he didn’t. Instead, he made you an unusual offer. One you couldn’t resist. 
Themes: thief!reader, mentions of homelessness and parental death, slight angst, mob!bucky, dom!bucky, slight daddy kink, sex toys, age gap (reader is in her early twenties), smut, fluff, cocky!reader
a/n: more mob!bucky bc i need to write him for my mental health
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“Where is he?” 
You heard a deep, surprisingly calm male voice ask, followed by multiple footsteps that echoed outside this dark room which resembled a dungeon, or rather a large storage room filled with boxes. 
You heard someone correct the man. “Uh, it’s a woman, sir.” 
The footsteps stopped for a brief moment, then resumed. The first authoritative voice spoke up again. “She was alone?” 
“Yes.” 
Silence. More echoing footsteps. “I’ll handle this. Wait here.” Immediately all the other footsteps stopped and only one continued approaching. 
A few seconds later, the door opened and a tall man walked in. You knew who he was, you’d broken into his home after all. Bucky Barnes. You had seen his face on the news multiple times. He was also easily recognisable because of his metal arm. He was the one most people feared around here. He was the infamous mob boss. Filthy rich, arrogant, merciless. But powerful more than anything. 
He took one look at you, tied to a chair in the middle of the dimly lit room, and scoffed. The asshole scoffed. 
You glared at him. “Spare me whatever dark villainous speech you have planned and just shoot me already.” You hissed, looking away from him. 
He was quiet for a second. Then said, “What makes you think I have some dark villainous speech prepared?” His voice was surprisingly softer than how he sounded outside. Smooth, rich voice. The kind that felt like a caress. 
You turned to look at him again, still glaring, “All you old, rich bastards are the same. You love to hear yourselves talk.” 
He chuckled this time, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked in a slow circle around the chair you were currently tied to. “I’m not that old. Besides, wealthy is the right word here.” He ignored the way you scoffed at his words, and continued, “Also, a thief who hates wealthy people? Very original.” 
You sarcastically chuckled this time. “See what I mean? You love to hear yourself talk.” 
He stopped right behind you, where you couldn’t see him. You would be lying if you said your heart didn’t start racing immediately. Out of your sight, he could have a gun pointed at your head right now and you wouldn’t even know. 
He didn’t say a word. He just stood there. Letting the anticipation build. Until you couldn’t take it anymore. Yanking on the ropes didn’t work, you tried that earlier. So you said, “At least have the decency to look me in the eyes while you kill me.” 
He was quiet for a moment. 
“What’s your name?” He asked. 
When you gave him your name, he sighed and said, “Who said I’m gonna kill you?” 
Oh? 
“Well I can’t imagine you’re gonna let me walk away just like that either.” You’d been observing rich people all your life, you knew how they operated. You knew he would ask for something in return. 
“No,” He said, remaining out of your sight. “No, I won’t let you walk away just like that.” He confirmed. 
You laughed humorlessly. “Just so you know, I don’t have any money.” 
He ignored you. “Who sent you?” He asked. 
Ah, the interrogation. Again. “Your loyal guard dogs already asked me that while they were tying me down. And they used some very colourful language too,” You scoffed. “And I’ll repeat what I said to them. No one sent me. I don’t work for anyone.” 
He began walking around you again, coming to a stop right in front of you this time. You looked up at him. Damn he was… kind of handsome. You couldn’t help but smirk, then failed at hiding it. 
“What’s with the smirk?” He asked. You were surprised with how calm he was with this whole thing. It was unnatural. 
You held his stare as you spoke, “Nothing I was just thinking about how I used to watch the news growing up and they always mentioned how much of a big bad monster you are. But there’s not even a single battle scar on your pretty face.” 
He chuckled this time, shaking his head as he looked away from you for a brief moment. “Stop making me sound old. Also, the scars are everywhere but on my face.” He said, stepping closer, bending down a little so he could whisper, “And did you just call me pretty?” 
Your smirk faded. Your murderous glare returned. “Fuck you.” You said quietly. 
He stepped back with a proud smirk on his face. “How did you get in here? With no help? I’m finding that hard to believe.” 
The smirk came back. “You’re doubting my amazing thieving skills? I spent years perfecting them mind you.” 
He sighed. “Years? You look twenty-five at most, have you been stealing shit since you were a kid?” 
You shrugged, or tried to, “Gotta do what you gotta do to survive. Dead parents, grew up with shitty relatives, ran away from there, been a thief ever since.” You summarised your life in that self-deprecating way you always did. 
He didn’t laugh, or chuckle. He just stared at you with an expression you couldn’t read. “Where do you even live?” 
You gave him a sassy smile, “I’m a thief, I break into somewhere new each night. You’d be surprised at how many vacant apartments with comfy beds there are in this area.” 
Again, he gave you that same poker face. Handsome poker face. “And you broke into my house tonight for what? To sleep?” 
“House?” You gasped dramatically. “This is a damn castle. Though the décor is a little too dark, then again it suits you, you know? Nice gardens, by the way.” 
He sighed again, like he was dealing with a difficult child. “Why did you come here? And how? How did you get past my guys?” 
You took a deep breath and began explaining, “Number one, I came here to steal whatever expensive things I could find. Though you do have very nice comfy beds but I never,” You put more emphasis, “ever, sleep in a house when the owner is home.” 
“Charming.” He commented. 
You continued explaining. 
“And as for how, well I spent the last few days hiding and watching. You have thick bushes out near the entrance of your castle. I stayed there, observed and learnt your security guards’ schedule, and found out that the multiple cameras around your property also rotate. I figured out that I had exactly a fourteen-second window to get past the gates. I found a chance and took it. Picking the locks was easy. But then your people just had to catch me while I was halfway through stealing that lovely painting from your lovely library.” You finished with a smile so sweet it had him sighing again. “And now here we are.” 
He mumbled something under his breath about god saving him, then he walked to the door and opened it. He called out a name and someone came running. A young man with a sweet face, looking younger than you even, walked into the room. 
“Peter, I need you to make all necessary arrangements.” Bucky pointed in your direction and said, “She’ll be staying with us. Looks like we have a new member.” 
You ignored Peter’s very confused look, and hissed at Bucky. “What? I didn’t agree to this!” 
Bucky turned to face you with a serious look on his face. “You have no job, no income, and no place to live. I’m offering you all three and you are not in a position to refuse me.” He continued over your attempt at cutting him off. “You have skills I could use. From now on, you work for me.” He paused. “Agreed, little thief?” 
You glared at him. Damn. A job, a salary, and a roof over your head? The bastard knew you couldn’t refuse. You had to be smart here. He could’ve killed you, but he didn’t. Instead he made you this almost irresistible offer. This could only mean that… 
“You really need me for something, don’t you?” You asked, suddenly sounding cocky. 
He clenched his jaw. And that was confirmation enough. “We’ll talk business later.” 
You laughed in his face. “Alright, alright, don’t get too excited. But if I’m working for you, I have some conditions and requests.” 
He blinked. The Peter guy was so quiet and still you almost forgot he was in the room. “What makes you think you’re in a position to have conditions, or make requests? I could’ve killed you the moment I saw you, you know that?” That cold voice of his would’ve sent shivers down anyone else’s back. 
“But you didn’t because you need me.” You argued with a sly smirk. “Now, here’s everything I need,” You turned to Peter and began listing, “A nice room, preferably the guest bedroom at the end of the right wing.” You winked at Bucky and said, “I checked it out earlier and it has the best view.” You turned to Peter and continued, “I also want a whole new, complete wardrobe, with bags and shoes and everything.” You looked at Bucky and said, “Can I also have a car and a chauffeur?” 
He frowned. “No.” 
“What if I need to move around? Run errands, go get my nails done and all?” You fake pouted. 
“I said no.” 
You rolled your eyes, “Fine, can I have a pet horse?” 
Bucky sighed, “No.” 
“A puppy then?” 
“What are you, a child?” He questioned. 
You smirked, “I mean you’re probably old enough to be my father.” You teased him and tried again, “Can I please have a puppy, daddy?” You knew the way you said it sounded far away from innocent. 
Bucky walked over to you so fast your brain barely registered it. He grabbed you by the back of your neck and stared deep into your eyes. “If that’s the case then daddy can also put you over his lap if you keep being a brat, and spank your little butt raw until you either cry or come, or both. Is that what you want, little thief?” 
You were breathless as you whispered, “No.” That wasn’t entirely true, and damn it, you both knew it in that moment. 
Bucky smirked. “Good girl.” He whispered. Then stepped away and turned to Peter and said, “Untie her and get her whatever she wants.” He looked at you as he said, “No cars, horses, or dogs.” 
Then he left the room. Leaving you speechless, and very much wet. 
— 
Peter, you learnt, was one of Bucky’s assistants. Whatever Bucky asked him to do, he did. That included sending a group of mean looking men out to shop for all that you had written down on your ‘Requirements’ list. 
He showed you to your requested room and promised your stuff will be here before the end of the day. And sure enough, by the time the sunset everything you had asked for was brought to you. 
You squealed when you entered the closet, excited to put away all your new things. Clothes, accessories, bags, shoes, toiletries, makeup, skin care products, and more. 
Peter came by again in the evening, bringing you dinner and said, “Boss said he’d see you in his office tomorrow morning at eight. Don’t be late, please. He hates it when people aren’t punctual.” 
You’d be lying if you said the mention of Bucky didn’t immediately remind you of what he said earlier about you being on his lap and… ugh. Damn him. 
For the first time in a long time, you went to bed with a full belly that night. And you squealed again when you got in the comfy bed, freshly showered and moisturised. As you drifted off to sleep, feeling weirdly warm and safe, you forgot all about your meeting with Bucky the next morning, and how you needed to be up early for it. 
— 
Bucky couldn’t sleep that night. So much had happened in such a short time. One moment he was having a quiet, calm day of golfing with Sam, and the next he got a phone call from his security guys that his mansion had been broken into. 
He went from spending a rare day off with his best friend, to having a sassy, drop dead gorgeous thief in his guest room. He sighed, sipping on his whiskey, holding the phone to his ear as he looked out of his bedroom window. 
“Oh, I know that sigh of defeat.” Sam laughed through the phone. “Is she really that pretty that you couldn’t even use your brain?” 
Bucky rolled his eyes. And here he thought calling Sam to complain about everything was a good idea. Of course the latter would only make fun of him. In fact, he thought, maybe Sam would team up with you and you two would make fun of him together. 
“Shut up, Sam. I’m serious.” Bucky sighed again, “She pisses me off but at the same time… I don’t know. This girl has been living like a fugitive since she was a kid. I looked up the relatives she ran from, her uncle and aunt, and honestly, anyone would run from them. God knows what kind of messed up shit she’s witnessed and been through her whole life.” 
Sam was quiet, listening. 
Bucky continued. “You know the bushes near the entrance? She hid there for days. Days, Sam! Through the rain, and cold nights all just so she could study the guards’ movements. She probably didn’t eat that whole time. Who knows when’s the last time she had a warm meal? She’s so resilient. And strong. But so sassy, and the way she runs that mouth it makes you want to-,” 
Bucky exhaled, exasperated. And continued. 
“She has that look in her eyes, you know?” Bucky thought back to earlier when he first saw you. “Life hasn’t been kind to her. She has really sad eyes. Like she was forced to grow up and take care of herself. I couldn’t…” Bucky trailed off, “I couldn’t just let her go back to living like that. Go ahead, make fun of me for it.” He sighed. “She’s gonna be really useful to me.” He stated. “You remember last year? When I was ambushed by Roger’s men? Something of mine was stolen then, and I’m gonna get it back using her.” Bucky already had a plan made. “I needed a skilled thief anyway. I mean she managed to break into my house, that means she actually is really good. She could even lead some of my guys when they go-” Bucky stopped talking and asked, “Are you even listening?” 
Sam chuckled, “I am, I am. It’s just rare to see you admire someone like this. Who knew big bad Bucky could be so soft? You better let me win next time we’re golfing, otherwise I’m telling everyone that you have a crush on the thief.” 
Bucky groaned, “What is this? What are we, children? I do not like her like that, alright? I’m about a decade and a half older than her. And she won’t stop reminding me of it.” 
Sam laughed again. “Oh I like her already. Anyway, have fun with your crush and tell me how it goes.” 
“Goodbye, you asshole.” Bucky ended the call and shook his head at the thought of what Sam said. A crush? On a thief? No way. 
As he made his way to his study room, Bucky couldn’t help but pause outside the guest room in which you slept. He could hear soft snores coming from within. Something in him felt satisfied that you were able to sleep soundly here, not having to find vacant places to break into. He wanted to keep it that way. 
Why? He didn’t know. Whatever it was, Sam was wrong. 
As he sat at his desk in his study room, Bucky tried to get work done but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Something about you was different. Bucky never trusted people this easily, let alone allow them into his home. 
That reminded him of something… Bucky found the list that Peter had left on his desk. The list of Requirements, as you called it. And as he read all the things his men had to go out and buy earlier, Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. He hadn’t laughed like this in a long time. 
Oh this could be fun. Bucky couldn’t wait for your meeting the next morning. At eight sharp. 
— 
When you woke up, the sun was in your face. But you hadn’t felt so warm and comfy in a long, long time so you relished the feeling. You let out a yawn, opening your eyes slowly. And you found yourself looking right at a rather pissed off Bucky standing at the end of the four-poster bed, with his hands in his pockets. 
All black suit, perfect hair, and those blue eyes… 
“Oh hi,” You said, taking your sweet time as you sat up in bed. “Good morning.” 
“It’s two in the afternoon.” Bucky hissed. “Who sleeps in for that long? You and I had a meeting at eight this morning. I was waiting.” 
You yawned again. “I’m sorry, this bed is really, really comfy.” You said, as if that was a decent excuse. “Maybe you shouldn’t have put such nice beds in your guest rooms if you didn’t want your guests to sleep in.” 
Bucky closed his eyes for a moment, looking like he was trying very hard to contain his annoyance. “You are not a guest. You work for me. So when I tell you to meet me in my office at eight, I want you there.” 
You smirked, peeling off the covers and slowly crawling over to the end of the bed where he stood. You knelt on the bed right in front of him, “Oh? You want me?” You teased, knowing he would snap at any moment now. 
You remained kneeling on the bed as his metal hand reached out and wrapped around your throat, squeezing just a little. The smirk on your face stayed in place this time, only pissing him off even more. “Watch your mouth, little thief.” He said. 
“Or what? You’ll spank me till I… what was it you said?” You repeated his words from the day before, “Till I cry, or come. Or both?” He remained quiet. His hand tightened around your throat, choking you a little bit more. You couldn’t help but whisper, “Jokes on you, I’m into this shit.” 
Bucky let go of you immediately. You laughed in his face as he shook his head and shoved his hand in his pocket again. 
“Get out of bed and get ready. Meet me in my office in half an hour.” He ordered and turned to leave. 
“But I’m hungry,” You said right before he could walk out of the door. “You can’t treat your guests like this, you have to feed me.” 
Bucky refrained from groaning. “Fine,” He said, turning to look at you over his shoulder. His broad shoulder. “I’ll have someone bring up some food for you. Now hurry up, don’t be fucking late again.” He barked. 
Bucky was embarrassed to admit to himself that his hands were shaking as he left your bedroom and walked to his study room. Fuck, less than twenty-four hours and you already had such a bizarre effect on him. 
Bucky shut the door behind him, and closed his eyes to find some kind of composure. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The sight of you in those black satin shorts and that tight, excuse of a top… fuck. The sight of you so comfortable in bed had messed him up so much he’d gripped you by the throat like an animal. 
He was grateful you didn’t seem to notice the hardness in his pants. He needed to get a grip. How the hell was he supposed to boss you around if this is what a brief interaction was doing to him. 
He sat at his desk and waited. And about twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. It was one of the housekeepers with a tray of breakfast food. Bucky waited some more and after a short while, there was another knock at his door. Before he could even open his mouth to say something, you walked in. 
Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. Just who allowed you to look this good? You were glowing after a good night of sleep. You looked incredible in your little sundress. Bucky watched as you took a seat on the other side of his desk before he even asked you to. The smell of your body wash and perfume drifted over to him, and he was almost salivating. 
He kept watching as you moaned in delight when you took your first sip of coffee, then your first bite of warm croissant. 
“Glad to see you’re enjoying your breakfast at,” He checked his watch, “almost three in the afternoon,” He spoke, finally. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss your position here in my house and as my employee.” 
You scoffed through a mouthful of some kind of pastry. You swallowed it with a sip of coffee and said, “So formal, my god. Just tell me where to go, what to steal and I’ll do it, no need to be so poetic about it.” 
Bucky sighed. “I don’t need you to steal anything at the moment. There is something, but the time isn’t right. I will let you know when it is. But as of now, I have other plans for you.” 
You frowned at him as you finished your breakfast. “Okay… I’ll do them under one condition.” 
“Enough with your conditions.” Bucky hissed. 
Despite his warning, you continued, “There’s this old, abandoned apartment complex,” You said, grabbing a pen and a sheet of paper from his desk like it was your own, scribbling something down, “I have some stuff hidden in there that I need. Not much, just two boxes. I know you won’t let me go but could you have someone go get it for me, please?” 
Bucky looked down at the address and apartment number written on the paper. “What stuff?” He asked. 
“Just stuff I’ve stolen over the years.” 
He scoffed, “But you have everything you need here.” 
You nodded, “Some of the things are… priceless.” 
Bucky nodded. “Fine. I’ll have someone go get it. Now, about your role here. You’re gonna start training with the guys tomorrow.” 
You frowned, “I’m a thief, I don’t need exercise.” You argued. 
“No,” He said, calmly as he leaned back into his chair. “But you need to learn how to fight, how to use a gun, a knife, self defence, how to be part of a team and all that.” 
Okay. Things got very real. You stayed quiet and nodded. 
“Can you drive?” 
You shook your head. 
“I’ll have someone teach you.” 
You shrugged. “So, no stealing for now. Only training like I’m going to battle. Anything else?” You asked. 
“Yes, actually.” 
About an hour later, you stood in the middle of what Bucky called your new workstation. You looked around the spacious room, impressed. It looked a lot like a lab, with every equipment a thief could ever need, even some new tech that you yourself weren’t familiar with. Weapons, trinkets, everything. 
“So you want me to teach your guys how to steal using this stuff.” 
“I want you to teach them necessary skills.” Bucky corrected. “Strategies. How to be observant. How to pick locks, how to be discreet, how to be invisible and hide for days, how to use a narrow, fourteen-second window to infiltrate a secure place. Whatever else you can teach. Minus the stealing.” 
You smirked, leaning against your new desk. “So you like what I do, huh?” 
Bucky ignored that. “Don’t cause any trouble.” He said. “I’m paying you to do a good job here.” 
You looked around again, not able to fight the genuine smile that formed on your face. “It’s like paying a kid to be at the playground.” You smirked, looking at him with determination in your eyes, and some mischief. “I’m gonna have so much fun here with my new friends.” 
“Do not hurt my guys, I need them.” 
— 
The next couple of weeks went by rather quickly. You woke up each day, excited for a change. No more having to be constantly on the run, no more having to steal for food, clothes, or find shelter. You had more time to live now, not just survive. 
Plus you had the lab. It was your favourite place ever. Surrounded by gadgets and tech you didn’t know could exist, weapons that you were starting to get the hang of, and Bucky’s guys that you used as if they were your test subjects – you actually had fun each day. 
The dynamic between you and Bucky changed too. And it all started the day after he first showed you your new lab… 
“My guys have your stuff from the old apartment. It’s in my office, come get it.” He spoke through the phone – your new phone – ordering you to come collect your stuff. 
You almost ran out of your room and to his office. When you got there, the two boxes were placed nicely on one side of his desk. A cardboard one, and the other one was a medium sized metal code-lock box. He stood behind the desk, watching you. 
“As requested,” He pointed at the two boxes, “Your stuff.” He paused, then said, “Open them.” 
You froze. “Uh, what?” 
Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets. “If I’m gonna allow you to keep your stolen goods in my house, I should know what they are. Now come on, open the boxes. I need to check them.” 
You walked into the room, shutting the door behind you. As you approached the desk, you tried to find a way out of this. “You don’t need to. They’re nothing. Just things I’ve collected over the years.” 
Bucky gave you the usual, handsome poker face. “Would you like me to open them?” 
“No,” You said quickly. You rushed to the cardboard box, opening it to let him see the contents. “See? Just books I’ve stolen from everywhere.” You explained as he looked inside the large box filled with old and new books. 
“Now the other one.” He said, eyeing the metal box. 
“That one has… um, personal things.” You said. “You don’t need to see all that.” 
Bucky walked around the desk, stopping only when he was inches away from you. He leaned a little close to your ear and whispered, “I have received bills of all the things you made my guys buy recently. Some of the bills explicitly listed each and every piece of lingerie and underwear you ordered, including a certain little red thong you’re possibly wearing right now.” He said, making you shiver. “And now you wanna talk about boundaries?” 
You pulled away to look at him, seeing the proud triumph in his eyes. “Fine.” You refused to let him win this one. You reached for the box, unlocked it, opened the lid and waited. Bucky was quiet. Too quiet. “Say something.” You whispered, “This is very awkward.” 
Finally he did. 
“Get on the desk.” He said. You froze again and seeing that you weren’t moving he leaned in to whisper into your ear, “I said, get on the desk. If I’m gonna allow you to keep all of these toys, then I better test their… effectiveness as well.” 
You avoided his eyes, focusing on the top buttons of his shirt as you asked, “What kind of rule is that?” 
“My kind.” He replied. “Now get on the desk. Legs up and spread them so I can see exactly what I have to deal with.” 
Fuck. 
You sat up on the desk, feeling just a little coy as you lifted your legs up and placed them on the edge of the desk, spreading your knees as far as they would go so he could look at you down there. 
Bucky scoffed. “See? There’s that red thong.” He pulled his metal hand out of his pocket, placing it on your inner thigh, slowly inching upwards. His cold fingers lazily teased your clit, then slid down to inspect your wet folds. He pulled the thong to the side and mindlessly dragged a metal finger up and down your slit, making you shiver and moan as he touched you. 
You let out a quiet whimper which made him groan. 
You looked down in between your thighs, his hand teasing you like it was the most casual thing. You sheepishly looked up and into his piercing, icy blue eyes that were already staring at you. You couldn’t look away. 
“Which one’s your favourite?” He asked. And it took you a little while to realise that he was referring to the pile of sex toys in the metal box. 
“The, uh… the vibrator.” You answered. Your face got all hot but you refused to seem embarrassed. 
Bucky smirked, pulling his hand away to reach for the vibrator. Light pink wand with a bulbous head. Bucky looked at it, then at you. He looked down at your wet folds and spat before turning the wand on and pressing it right on your clit. His spit helped the toy to move around better as he circled your clit with it, before moving it up and down your slit. 
You couldn’t help but moan and gasp as you felt the familiar pressure forming in between your legs, and you involuntarily bucked your hips against the vibrator, trying desperately to chase your orgasm. Of course Bucky noticed, and he scoffed as he lifted the vibrator off you, denying you your release.
“No,” You whined, closing your eyes and tilting your head back, “Please…” You begged. 
“Look at me,” he said, softly. You looked back at him as his other hand wrapped around your throat. Bucky leaned in enough so that his lips brushed against yours when he spoke. “You will come when I allow it, you hear me? 
You nodded immediately. 
“Good girl.” He said as he placed the vibrator back against your core. You felt the vibrations all over your body, as you stared into his icy blue eyes. He moved the toy around a little more before lifting it off you again, turning it off this time. “You can take your books and go now, this box stays with me.” 
He put the vibrator back safely, shutting the box. 
You closed your legs, hopping off of his desk. “What do you mean it stays with you? You can’t just… just steal my toys!” You frowned at him, pissed. 
Bucky gave you an annoying smirk. “Yes I can. Now whenever you need a toy, you can come ask for it. If I feel like it, I’ll let you have it.” 
Bastard. 
You left his office angrily that afternoon. And vowed never to beg for any of the toys in that box. Let him have it. Screw him, right? 
Wrong. 
You couldn’t sleep that night. Your fingers didn’t relieve you as much as the vibrator would have. And that’s how you found yourself swallowing your pride and knocking on his office door. The lights were on so you figured he’d still be in there. 
“Come in.” He said and you could already hear the smirk in his voice. 
You opened the door, walked in and shut it behind you. “I need it.” You said, looking at him as he lounged on the couch near his desk. 
“Need what?” He asked, acting oblivious as he placed his drink down and pretended to be confused. 
You rolled your eyes at him. “The vibrator. Please.” 
He leaned back on the couch, with a playful smirk on his face. “Oh I put it in the trash. I put all of them in the trash.” 
You blinked. It took a moment for the anger to surface. You took a step towards the couch. “Do you know what I had to do in order to rob that sex store? I had to fight the guy who was closing up for the day. With a baseball bat! And you know the worst part? He was one of my ex flings!” 
Bucky let out a chuckle. 
“Don’t just sit there and laugh! What am I supposed to do now?” 
He gave you a mischievous look and said, “Come here.” 
You crossed your arms over your chest and stood there in the middle of his office. “No.” 
“Keep being a brat and I will drag you here by your hair if I have to.” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Try me.” And those words had you moving towards him at once. 
You reached the couch where he was sitting and stood in front of him. “Now what?” 
“Get on my lap.” 
You rolled your eyes, refusing to show how his words and tone made you want to drop to your knees and take him in your mouth instead. “You’re such a disgusting, old, pervert who just wants to-,” 
He cut you off by pulling you into his lap and grabbing you by the throat. His metal hand squeezed your throat just enough to make you whimper. “What did I say about you and your smart mouth? Hmm?” Then he scoffed and said, “Right, I forgot you’re into this shit.” He squeezed your throat a little more. “If I reached down there, would I find that you’re completely wet and ready for me?” 
You whimpered again, instinctively grinding on his lap. He chuckled, shaking his head. 
“Look at you,” He murmured. “You won’t need your toys now,” He said, “If you need to come, you ask for my cock. Understood?” 
You nodded immediately. 
He smirked. “Now, will you be a good girl and fuck yourself on daddy’s cock or what?” 
You whined, nodding, “Please…” 
Bucky couldn’t help but lean in for a kiss then. All your whimpering was too much for him to handle and he couldn’t take it anymore. 
You kissed him back, allowing him to almost tear your PJs off of your body. You only pulled away from the kiss to say, “We need a condom. I’m not on birth control.” 
Bucky nodded, reaching to pull a condom out of his pocket. “Remind me about the birth control thing tomorrow.” 
You watched as he undid his trousers and put the condom on. The moment it was on, Bucky pulled you in for a kiss again. He helped you as you lifted up and then slowly lowered yourself down on his hard cock. 
You couldn’t look away as he held your stare. You both gasped and moaned as you finally sank down on him. Your body resisted just a little to fit him inside at first. Bucky felt it too, and an arrogant smirk formed on his face as he grabbed your hips in place and gently thrust his hips up, filling you up.
You moaned out loud as he did. “Fuck, you feel good, little thief.” He whispered. 
Once he was buried deep inside you, you leaned in to kiss him again while lifting your lower body just the slightest, before sliding back down on his cock, you whimpered as he groaned, filling you up and being all snug inside of you. 
“Oh fuck,” He swore again, “You feel so tight around daddy’s cock.” 
The tip of his cock reached places you never knew existed. You whimpered, whining in pleasure as you took a good look at the man beneath you. He oozed power, manspreading on the couch with you on his cock. 
You moved faster then, impaling yourself down on his cock each time. You whimpered shamelessly as you felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. His hand slipped between the two of you and found your clit, he rubbed it lazily. Grunting and moaning under his breath as you sped up even more, riding his cock and making him lose his damned mind.
“You have such a perfect little cunt…” He said, “It’s all mine now.” 
You were whimpering and whining yourself as you took more and more of him. But you couldn’t help but tease him, “And here I thought mixing business with pleasure was a bad thing.” 
Bucky playfully slapped your thigh. “I make the rules here. From now on, mixing business with pleasure is a very good idea.” 
You leaned down to kiss him, biting down and tugging at his bottom lip while you sped up, and his cock stretched you out each time he filled you up. “Fuck,” You whined. 
His hand circled around your waist and he pulled your warm body closer to his. He was still very much clothed, except for his cock being out and buried inside you. Meanwhile your PJs were on the floor, leaving you completely naked on his lap. Something about that contrast made it even hotter. 
“Beg.” He said, “I want to hear you beg me to let you come.” 
You bounced on his cock moaning and whining, feeling him stretch you out as you stared into his blue eyes. 
“Please daddy,” You whimpered, “Please, can I come?” 
Bucky held you at your waist and rhythmically thrust his hips up each time to match your movements. “Hold on, just a little,” He panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand. “Just a little,” He whispered, “Wait for me.” 
“Please… I can’t,” You didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, and he kept thrusting his hips up into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came, hard, feeling your walls squeezing and clenching around him as you came undone. You panted and leaned forward, pushing your face into his neck to catch your breath. 
Bucky came right after you, his warm load spilling inside of you, filling you up as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed your trembling body closer to him.
“I’m sorry,” You said as you caught your breath. “I’ll wait next time.” 
Bucky laughed. “It’s alright. You were still such a good girl for daddy.” He murmured. 
That night changed everything. 
Ever since, each time you annoyed Bucky he would just fuck you against the nearest surface. Safe to say you began to annoy him even more. 
But he could also be kind sometimes. For instance this one time when he found you in the library: 
You were lounging on a sofa, reading when he walked in silently. 
“Winter’s tale?” He surprised you with both his literary knowledge and presence. 
You peaked at him from behind your book and said, “Leontes is such a cunt. Quite like you sometimes.” 
Bucky ended up fucking you right there on the sofa. And then promised to get you your own bookshelf in the library because he didn’t like the way you stuffed your books among his on the current shelves. It’s messy and immature, he said. Grown ups don’t keep their books like this, he said. 
Bucky could also be so confusing at times. Like how he would always treat you like the thing between the two of you was just a casual fling. But then he would get jealous whenever he saw you getting too close to any one of his guys while you trained with them. 
“I will be overseeing your training from now on. No need to join the guys in the morning.” He said out of nowhere when you joined him for dinner in the dining room one night. 
“Why?” You asked. 
“Because you distract them too much with your shenanigans. Constant flirting, walking around in your little workout outfits, all that needs to stop.” He spoke, avoiding your eyes. 
You smirked. “So we’re gonna be early morning workout buddies from now on?” 
He sighed, “Don’t make me regret this.” 
You chuckled, “Oh you will regret this.” 
He did. But in the best ways. So each morning workout either started or ended with a nice fuck sesh. 
You were at your workstation one morning when Bucky walked in with a serious look on his face. 
You’d just seen him a couple of hours ago for your ‘workout’ so you wondered why he was back. Usually he left you alone for most of the day, only finding his way back to your bed late at night. So this was unusual. 
“What’s going on? Why do you look like you want to murder someone?” You asked as he stood right in front of you with an earpiece in hand. 
“Put this on.” He said. 
You did as he asked. And waited. 
Bucky grabbed his phone, walking to one of the nearest screens and a few taps later, you were looking at the live feed of some kind of body cam. 
“What’s this?” You asked. Just then, you began hearing muffled voices coming from the earpiece. 
Bucky turned to you. “My guys are… retrieving something of mine from a secret location. I need you to guide them.” 
Your eyes widened. “Wait, is this it? Is this the thing you needed me for?” 
Bucky’s face gave away nothing. “Just do as you’re told.” 
You nodded, quickly looking back at the screen. “Who’s leading them?” You asked. 
Someone’s muffled voice replied from the earpiece. “Thor is.” 
You nodded, looking at the screen. “Right. How could I miss those biceps that are bigger than my head?” You said. 
Bucky smacked you on the butt and said, “Focus.” 
“I am, I am. I got this.” 
Anf for the next few minutes, you led the men through whatever maze of a building they were in. You found the location within seconds and managed to have a blueprint of the place. You warned them of the cameras, told them when to move and when not to. You instructed Thor how to pick an ancient looking lock that led them into an even bigger maze. But you did everything right, used the right strategies, the right tricks up your sleeves, and you managed to get the guys out of there safely, with the mystery package they stole. 
Once they were out in the clear and confirmed that they were on their way home, you turned to Bucky and asked, “How did I do?” You waited eagerly for his response. 
Bucky just smirked and said, “Good. You passed the test.” 
Your smile faded fast. “What? What test?” 
Bucky explained, “The guys weren’t actually out stealing shit. I just wanted to see how you would do in a situation like that. And you did great. Congratulations, little thief.” 
He turned to walk away but you called out. “You know, I deserve a nice gift for being so amazing.” 
“Do you now?” He asked, not turning around. 
“Yes, I want a dog!” 
Bucky paused at the door. “No.” He said and left. 
“Please, daddy…” You pouted. 
“No.”
Oh well, it was worth a try. 
— 
The next morning, you woke up and got ready for yet another day of annoying Bucky. However, when you stepped out of your bedroom door, you noticed something outside your door. 
It was a basket. And inside it slept two puppies, two of the fluffiest little balls of fur you’d ever seen. Once the shock passed, you began tearing up immediately. 
You picked up the basket as slowly as you could and made your way to Bucky’s bedroom. You walked in without knocking. And there he was, standing in the middle of the room, getting ready for the day, buttoning his black shirt, casually looking like a god. Once he saw you, his playful smirk showed itself. 
“So, how do you like-,” He stopped talking the moment the first tear fell down your cheek. His smirk disappeared. “What is it?” He asked. 
You carefully placed the basket down, the puppies inside it sleeping soundly. Then you rushed to Bucky, wrapping your arms around him tightly. 
Bucky hugged you back instantly, though confused concerning your reaction. Out of all things, he didn’t expect this. “Hey, what’s going on?” He asked, softly. 
You sniffled, hiding your face in his chest. “I was thirteen when I ran from my uncle and aunt’s house.” You said, voice muffled. “And they had dogs so I grew up with them. But when I took off to be on my own, I couldn’t have a dog because I could barely take care of myself.” You sniffled again. “And it’s hard being without animals when you grew up around them, you know?” You let more tears wet his shirt. “Thank you,” You said, finally. 
Bucky held you as your shoulders shook with your sobs. He placed a gentle kiss on your temple and whispered, “Oh baby, I’ve got you now.” 
You pulled away to look at him, both of you ignoring the patch of wetness your tears left on his grey shirt. “You got me two puppies.” 
Bucky smiled down at you. “You deserve it.” 
You sniffled, “You’re being nice, what do you want?”
“Nothing,” He rolled his eyes, “Now get out of here.” 
You stayed put. “I can’t. I have to make it even.” 
“Yeah?” Bucky raised an eyebrow at you. “How?” 
You shrugged. “I don’t know, let me suck your-,” 
He cut you off by pulling you closer, a hand wrapped around your throat already. “You are very tempting right now, in your little red dress. And if you don’t want want me to tear it off right this instant, I’d suggest you-,” 
You cut him off this time, “Who said I don’t want you to tear it off?” You asked with a smirk. 
Bucky sighed before pushing you down on his bed. “I’ve got a busy day ahead.” He said, looking down at you as he hovered above you, “But you don’t care about that, do you?” 
You giggled, shaking your head. “Not one bit.” You said, running your hands over his chest and his strong shoulders. 
He smirked, giving in. He leaned in for a brief kiss while he pulled your dress up and placed both his hands on either one of your knees and separated your legs, settling in between them. 
Your heart raced in anticipation. His hand slowly dragged your thin underwear down your legs and threw it around somewhere behind him as he inched his face closer to your already dripping core.
“Such a fucking brat.” He mumbled and brushed his soft lips along your inner thighs, making you giggle and moan quietly under your breath.
“Shut up, admit it. You’re obsessed with me.” You sassed, then moaned out loud when you felt his warm tongue lick from your entrance up to your clit. You felt a familiar rush in your veins. Fuck he was addicting. 
Your hands grabbed fistfuls of his hair, tugging on it as his mouth teased you. His tongue slowly circled around your clit, earning more moans out of you as your back arched off the bed. His bed, you realised. This was the first time you two were fooling around in his room. 
Only now did you realise how it smelt like him. Dark, male, addicting. But most of all, dangerous. Fuck, just his scent made your head all foggy in lust. 
Bucky had you squirming, moaning, a complete mess under him in no time. “I love seeing you like this,” He said, kissing your inner thighs, “Too busy moaning for me to run that smart mouth.” 
You couldn’t answer as your legs trembled around his head, he locked his arms around your thighs and pushed his tongue deeper into you, making you cry out of pleasure. 
“See what I mean?” He chuckled, “I bet you want to say something sassy so bad right now, but you can’t.” He playfully bit you before sucking on your clit. “Daddy’s tongue has you all tongue-tied, huh princess?” 
You cried out. “Please… please daddy,” You whined. 
With a proud smirk, a look of determination in his pretty blue eyes, and a couple more strokes of his tongue, he had you gushing out all over his tongue, lapping up all that you gave him. While you moaned and squirmed on his bed as he sucked on your sensitive clit until you calmed down. 
You kept your eyes shut as you caught your breath, feeling him leave small kisses all over your thighs. 
When you opened your eyes again, his face was right above yours. His devious blue eyes looking down into your wide open ones. You were certain all he saw in your eyes was hunger. For him. 
“I want you,” You whispered, sliding your hands into his hair. “Now.” You demanded. 
“Brat.” He hissed when you tugged on his hair. 
You smiled. “Pretty sure it’s princess.” You teased. 
“A bratty fucking princess then.” He didn’t give you a chance to sass back as he leaned in for a deep kiss, holding himself up with one hand as he quickly undid his trousers. You helped, pulling his cock out and stroking it. Bucky moaned into the kiss as you did, and the sound of it sent shivers down your back. 
You gasped, and whined into the kiss as he carefully slid into you, filling you up entirely, inch by inch. Stretching you out deliciously like he did all the time. Bucky wasted no time, he pulled out and pushed back into you, making you moan into the kiss each time until the makeout turned lazy and messy, filled with gasps and moans. 
You noticed he wasn’t being as ravenous as usual. He was… trying to be gentle with you. 
Indeed he was. Your heart skipped a beat when Bucky laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head as he sped up just a little into you. He was groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly, and you were unable to focus on anything other than him. 
His hips rolled against your body perfectly, and his body weight pressing down gently on you was comforting. His grip around your hand tightened each time you’d moan his name out loud. 
“That’s it, princess.” He whispered against your open mouth, “Tell me who’s making you feel this good. Who’s fucking you, huh?” 
You kept whimpering his name over and over again as he fucked you nice and slow, kissing his way down your face, from your collar bones to down your chest. And you cried out when he took a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue.
You opened your eyes as he pulled away to look down at you, his lips soft and pink and parted as he breathed rapidly, fucking into you a bit faster. 
Something shifted in that moment, you weren’t sure what. But something changed. 
His brows furrowed as he tried so hard to hold back and make you come before he did. “Fuck,” He swore. “Come for me.” He smirked and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Come for daddy, princess.” 
You felt the pressure building in between your hips as he sped up even more, his metal hand reached down and grabbed your hip gently, keeping you in place as he sped up into you. Your bodies moved perfectly against each other.
Bucky pushed his face into you and nuzzled your neck as he growled in pleasure. With a few more strokes of his cock, you came undone, moaning and whimpering under him, grinding against him hungrily while he came right after, filling you up again. 
He stayed there, limp on top of you for a brief moment, before he slid off of you and laid down beside you. He caught his breath while you blinked rapidly, trying to calm your racing heart and figure out what the hell just happened. 
Before the awkward silence settled in completely, you got up on shaky legs and fixed your dress. “Well, this has been fun. I gotta go feed my new kids now. See you later.” You grabbed the puppy basket and almost ran out of his bedroom. 
As you shut the door, you heard him laughing to himself. A boyish, carefree laugh that made you smile. 
— 
With your new dogs, training, your lab, more training, days flew by. 
Whatever Bucky had planned, whatever big heist you were supposed to carry out, you knew it was coming soon. 
You often wondered what would happen once you successfully stole whatever he intended for you to steal. You didn’t even know what it was yet. Must be something precious either way, if all this planning went into it. But what after that? Would you no longer work for Bucky then? 
Would this… whatever it was between the two of you that both of you absolutely refused to acknowledge – no matter how much Sam teased you both for it – would it all end? 
You were lost in thoughts of all this when you found yourself mindlessly making your way to Bucky’s office one evening. Your two dogs, loyally in tow. 
You found Bucky in an equally sour mood as you, sulking at his desk with a drink. 
You shut the door behind you, leaving the dogs outside as you made your way to Bucky. He looked up at you and silently patted his lap. You made yourself comfortable on his thighs, an arm around his neck as you leaned in and nuzzled his cheek. His stubble rough against your nose and cheek. 
“What’s wrong?” You asked, “What has you looking like an evil god plotting the end of mere mortals who are standing in the way of you dominating the world?” 
He chuckled at that. “You are so annoying you should be grateful at least you’re pretty to look at.” He mumbled, taking a sip of whatever was in his glass. You assumed it was whiskey. 
You couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips. But then you noticed that distant look in his eyes. Unfortunately, you were very good at reading people. You leaned in and kissed his cheek softly. 
“What is it?” 
He let out a sigh. “You never ask me what I’m keeping you around for.” 
You shrugged. “You said you’d tell me when it’d be the right time. I’m just waiting, I guess. You told me about Rogers and his men and how they stole something from you. The details aren’t necessary, whatever it is, I’ll get it back. I promise.” 
Bucky placed his glass down and turned to look at you. His metal arm held you securely on his lap. “It’s my mother’s ring.” He said. “The ring has been in our family for generations. All the men propose to their women with it.” He paused, then added, “I have nothing left of hers. Just the ring.” 
Damn. Well. You would have never guessed that. A family heirloom? Why would Rogers tell his men to steal that? How would he even know to steal that? 
You began to ask just that. “How did-,” 
Bucky answered before you could even finish your question. “Steve, Sam, and I used to be friends. I always thought we’d be friends till the very end. But then Steve went rogue, power got to his head.” 
Shit. No wonder Bucky and Sam were so close, they survived the downfall of a strong trio. 
“I’m sorry.” You murmured, gently stroking his cheek. “I’ve never had close friends like that, I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose them. But I can tell it makes you really upset.” You pointed out. Then you took a deep breath and said, “I’ll get your mom’s ring back. And I will even kick Steve for you if you ask me to.” 
Bucky gave you a faint smile. 
“Just get the ring back.” He said, staring deep into your eyes. “I need it.” 
Oh? The thought of him on one knee, asking someone to marry him was surprisingly uncomfortable. But you pushed all that aside. 
“So when do I go?” 
— 
Another week later, the plan was ready. Bucky’s men were ready. You were ready. 
You had the location, had studied the blueprint very well. You’d be in contact with Bucky the whole time through the earpiece. Steve was rumoured to be out of town. His guards would not be expecting the heist. This was perfect. 
Or so you thought. The moment you got near Steve’s house, a gut feeling told you something was off. And you must’ve mumbled something to yourself because Bucky’s voice came through the earpiece just then. 
“I’ll say it again. The moment you sense something wrong, fall back. Do you hear me?” He used the cold, bossy tone. 
You scoffed and replied, “Yes daddy.” 
A few of the guys chuckled around you. And you could hear Bucky sighing as you giggled to yourself. 
You noticed the guards getting ready to move, the typical security rotation. You looked behind you and whispered to the guys, “We have exactly twelve seconds to make it past the gates. Don’t be too loud, and follow me. If you can’t make it, stay back here and keep watch. Everyone understood?” 
They all nodded silently. 
“Okay… now!” 
Not all of the guys could make it. Some had to stay back because the twelve-second window was too short for everyone to beeline through the gates. 
But the group of you that made it past the gates and into Steve’s house were in for a big surprise. It was a trap, Steve wasn’t home but his people had been waiting for you. 
What was meant to be a clean heist ended up in a crossfire. 
You could hear Bucky barking orders through the earpiece. “Fall back! Now!” 
You almost did… but fuck you were so close. So close. That was when you took the earpiece off and tucked it into the pocket of your cargo pants. He may have been right, but the adrenaline was too much to resist. You’d missed this feeling, this rush of being so close to danger, to being caught… 
So you went for it. 
Walked deeper into the trap. 
You knew where the ring was kept, you had the little box in your hand. You didn’t have time to see what it looked like as you put it away in your pocket, along with the earpiece that Bucky surely was still screaming through. 
And then. The room exploded. 
Then there was nothing. Just ringing in your eyes, and blurry images in front of you. You coughed, gasping for air and all you got were dust in your lungs. 
You faintly remember hands reaching for you, dragging you, trying to get you to walk. But your body did not cooperate. It refused to. 
You don’t know how much time passed. Or where you were. 
You could hear the panic in his voice as you tried your hardest to reorient yourself. Bucky was here? You were lying on the floor somewhere. You couldn’t remember much. 
The heist. The ring. A lot of fighting. An explosion. 
Ah, an explosion that threw you across the room causing you to collide against a concrete wall. 
Your side hurt, badly. Your head throbbed. Your vision was blurry, but at least Bucky was here. He was here, you could hear his rapid footsteps approaching. 
“Baby….” His voice sounded distant. “Baby, open your eyes. Please.” He had never sounded so vulnerable. Due to the way your body moved, you assumed you were in a rapidly moving vehicle. “Look at me,” You felt his hands on your face, “Princess, please…” You couldn’t focus too well on what he was saying, “... sorry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have… baby, please…” 
Then there was just darkness.
And pain. 
And a headache that refused to go away. 
But you were with Bucky so you gave into the darkness. You knew you were safe now that he was here. 
— 
When you woke up, you realised you were in Bucky’s room. On his bed. The headache was still here, not as bad as before though. 
The room was dimly lit, so you figured it must be well into the evening. The house was quiet, but as you tried to sit up, you heard him. 
“Thought you were gonna sleep for two more days.” 
You couldn’t help the smirk. “I slept for two whole days?” Then you panicked, looking around, “Where are my dogs?” 
“Safe, fed. Sleeping.” Bucky stepped out of the dark corner of the room, but didn’t come any closer. He was quiet for a few moments. Then, “You almost got killed.” He stated, looking like he hadn’t slept in days but no less handsome. 
You scoffed. “As if that’s all it would take to kill me. You know, I once fell from two storeys and survived with just a twisted ankle. I’m amazing like that,” You winked at him. “Besides, I did a good job. I managed to get your precious ring,” You went to pat your pocket, only to realise that you were no longer wearing those cargo pants. 
Of course, he wouldn’t have left you in those same clothes for two days while you recovered. You looked down under the blanket and you were wearing clean clothes. His clothes. Sweatpants and a t-shirt. The t-shirt smelled like him. 
“Looking for this?” He held his hand up and there it was. Prettiest piece of jewellery you’d ever laid eyes on. You could see the big, heavy stone from here. Dark green, black, silver. It looked elegant, and like it was crafted in some fae realm. It was truly unique. 
“You changed me.” You pointed out, looking down at the clean clothes. 
He gave you the same poker face. “What does it matter? I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count.” He said. 
“And you made me wear your clothes.” You gave him a bratty, triumphant look. 
He glared at you. “I’m sure my clothes feel more comfortable than those tight little dresses you wear all the time.” 
You gasped dramatically, “You mean those tight little dresses you fuck me in all the time?” 
That had him walking towards his bed immediately. “Don’t fucking tease me. Not right now, you’re hurt.” 
“Aww,” You teased, “You care about me.” 
Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed, turning to face you. “I guess I do.” He said, reaching out to touch your face carefully. 
You couldn’t look away from him. He was so gorgeous. Even in poorly lit rooms with his face half hidden in shadows, he was the most handsome man you’d ever seen. 
He smirked when he noticed you checking him out, “I know I’m pretty, stop drooling.” 
You scoffed, shoving on the shoulder. The muscular bastard of course didn’t even move an inch. 
“I’m gonna go bring you some food.” He said, taking your hand in his metal one. “You’ve been unconscious for days, you need the energy.” He slid the ring on your ring finger so casually it took you a few moments to realise what he’d just done. 
Only when he got up to walk away did reality hit you. Hard. “Wait, what the fuck?” You held your hand up, “What does this mean?” 
Bucky gave you a shrug, “Get used to it.” 
“Bucky!” 
“What?” 
You blinked, mouth open, your body frozen in shock. “Did you just… are you for real? I thought the plan was to get the ring back so you could display it in your office and admire it like the deranged villain you try so hard to be.” 
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Change of plans.” 
You lowered your eyes, tracing a finger over the big stone on the gothic looking ring. “You can’t marry a thief.” 
Bucky sat back down again, taking your chin between his fingers. “Why not? You stole something very precious the day you broke into my home, and this is your punishment now. A life sentence, if you will.” 
“What did I steal?” 
“My heart.” 
You groaned at his cheesiness, leaning in and hiding your face into the crook of his neck. “You bastard.” 
Bucky chuckled. “I love you too.” 
You were quiet for a moment, breathing in his scent. It grounded you. But then you pulled away and asked, “What about Steve?” 
“I’ll deal with him.” Bucky answered, sounding grave and cold. “He hurt my princess,” He said, pulling you closer so much that you were almost on his lap, “I’m gonna kick his ass.” 
You giggled, “Well technically he hurt your princess because she broke into his house to steal. Honestly, he had every right to hurt your princess.” You argued. 
Bucky smirked, “So you agree? That you’re my princess?” 
You rolled your eyes at him, “Technically I’m your fiancé but I don’t really care about labels so yeah, I’ll be your princess or whatever.” 
He laughed, “Oh you don’t get to be nonchalant about this. I’ll throw a big party, invite the whole city if I want to. And you’re gonna be the centre of attention the whole night, parading around in a pretty dress of my choice, showing off your ring, and telling people how much you’re in love with me.” 
You groaned again. “You are insufferable.” 
“I love you too, princess.” He repeated, kissing your forehead.
3K notes · View notes
mrsbarnesblog · 5 months
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Bucky Barnes Masterlist
ko-fi ao3
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⭐️ - personal favorite
❤️‍🔥 - smut
🩷 - fluff
🖤 - angst
⭐️❤️‍🔥Jersey - College! Bucky Barnes x Reader
Natasha’s idea of getting a jersey with Bucky’s name turned out to be much better than you expected. (3.2k)
⭐️❤️‍🔥Push Him - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x PR Manager! Reader
When you became Avenger’s PR manager, you basically got your dream job, but one particular man, who had been staring at you every single time you were around, made you wonder whether it was because he hated or liked you. (6.8k.)
⭐️❤️‍🔥Stay quiet for me - Modern! Bucky Barnes x Reader
Bucky fucks you while your parents sleep in the next room. (1.6k)
❤️‍🔥Little games - Gamer! Bucky Barnes x Reader
You really need to calm down, so you get under Bucky's table while he's playing with his friends. (1.4k)
🩷Sandcastles - CEO! Husband! Bucky Barnes x Reader
Bucky is always working overtime, but when his best girls really need him, he leaves everything behind just to make you happy. (1.6k)
❤️‍🔥 New purchase - Mob! Bucky Barnes x Reader
You just got a new expensive lingerie set and decided to tease your mafia boss boyfriend with some sexy pictures. (2.3k)
⭐️❤️‍🔥 Firewood - Lumberjack! Bucky Barnes x Reader
When you decide to chop wood in your backyard, your hot neighbor, who happens to be a lumberjack, offers you some help. (4.8k)
🩷 I can't let you get hurt - Brother's best friend! Bucky Barnes x Reader
You have just moved to New York, where your adopted brother Steve has been living for 5 years. Desperate to make new friends, you give the dating app another go. You didn’t even think that you would have to ask for help from the person who has not left your thoughts for the past month - your brother’s best friend. (3.3k)
❤️‍🔥 Don't hide - Mechanic! Bucky Barnes x Reader
Somehow you ended up in a storage room with one of your dad's mechanics. (1.8k)
🩷 My everything - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader
The last thing that Bucky ever expected to see was the love of his life from the past trapped in one of the Hydra bunkers in the cryofreeze chamber. Yet here he was almost two days later, staring at your still unconscious body through the window at the medical wing, imagining the horror and disgust on your face when you found out that he was no longer the innocent and happy boy you knew before. (6.8k)
⭐️🩷Personal pillow - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader
You confront avengers when they start teasing Bucky about being too soft. (1.6k)
⭐️🩷 I trust you - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader
When Bucky comes back from a mission with a knife wound there is only one person who can convince him to get help. (3.5k)
⭐️🩷 You deserve the world - College! Bucky Barnes x Reader
You were in a relationship with a man who had never truly cared about you, but after catching him cheating on you at a friend's party, you eventually decided to end things with him. The good news was that there was always someone who wasn't going to let you go through it alone. (4.6k)
🩷 Barbie - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader
Bucky takes his best girl to watch a Barbie movie and then spoils her with gifts. (1.3k)
❤️‍🔥 Wakanda - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Reader
You visit Bucky in Wakanda, and the hidden feelings are finally coming out. (2.7k)
Requests
We could've done it earlier - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader
When one of the new recruits started following you around and being too persistent, Bucky decided to help you by kissing you right in front of that guy. Though he didn't realize that he wouldn't be able to stop. (2.3k)
Night - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader
You wandered around the Tower at night because you couldn't sleep. In the common room, you find Bucky sitting in the dark and decide to share an ice cream pint with him.
Snowman - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader
When the first snow of the year had just covered the whole of New York City, you tried to convince Bucky to play outside with you. He couldn't find the power in himself to say no to you, even if it's his least favorite time of the year.
1K notes · View notes
bucky-fricking-barnes · 2 months
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The Cards We're Dealt
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Title: The Cards We’re Dealt
Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 15k
Warnings: Arranged marriage, alcohol, cursing, objectification of women and mild sexism, bad parents, angst, fluff, mentions of drugs
Summary: Bucky and Y/N are the children of the two most prominent mob bosses in New York. When their parents use them as part of a deal, they’re left to figure out how their lives fit together.
A/N: Wow! Another long fic because I have no self-restraint. There’s a bit of Irish in this because I couldn’t resist it when I wrote Steve. Translations are at the end, and anything incorrect can be blamed on Google Translate. As always, thank you for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging, and supporting me in all the ways you do. 
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There is an unspoken rule amongst the mobs in New York that the more drug manufacturers a man controls, the nicer you treat his daughter. So, when Bucky’s father tells him that he’s once again been pimped out as part of a deal, Bucky knows to ask the question,
“How many does he control?”
If Bucky had his way, of course, he would treat all girls as well as he is able (which is very well). He likes girls, and he likes going out with girls. He just wishes he could choose which girls he got to take out.
“Seventy-five percent,” George Barnes says, and Bucky freezes with his glass against his lips. He has a club soda to his father’s whiskey—he’s in a good mood and was actually hoping to enjoy the day, though now he’s reconsidering it. His plan to lounge by the pool with Becca and soak up as much of the late spring sunshine as possible is quickly dissipating. 
“That’s not possible,” Bucky replies. He quickly does the math in his head. His dad owns over half the manufacturers in Brooklyn. “We own—“
“Not anymore.”
The library falls silent as Bucky tries to wrap his head around the news. Just yesterday he’d overheard his father on the phone with one of his men, explaining in great detail what he’d do if they didn’t get him a sample of their newest product by the top of the hour.
“How?” he asks. He sets his glass aside and sits straighter in his chair. “Did something happen? You didn’t tell me about a takeover.”
George takes a sip of his whiskey. “That’s because there wasn’t one.” He sets the crystal tumbler on the small bronze tray nearby. Marta will come clean it up later. “I sold them.”
“You sold them? If you’ve already struck a deal, then why am I taking out his daughter? Isn’t that normally something you have me do to butter their fathers up before you make the deal?”
Bucky watches as his own father stands and goes to watch the landscapers through the library window, his hands clasped behind his back. He’s long since been out of the army, but some habits die hard. Very rarely did the man ever relax.
“You are the deal,” George answers, his voice much too casual for Bucky’s liking.
“What the hell are you talking about?” snaps Bucky.
“Watch your tone, boy,” his father replies. He doesn’t turn around to witness the way Bucky grinds his teeth together in response. “In exchange for the majority of Theo’s territory, you and Y/N will be married within a year and a half, though the exact date is up to the two of you. I believe that Theo mentioned his daughter likes spring, so perhaps a spring wedding. June is popular, from what I’m told, though that’s cutting it a little close to the deadline.”
Bucky’s up out of his seat now. He can feel his pulse thrumming and he can’t quite catch his breath.
“So what? You threw me in to sweeten the pot? Am I just another bargaining chip to you now?”
He’s shouting. He doesn’t care.
George turns and regards him in silence, and, like always, his expression betrays nothing of what he’s thinking or feeling. He doesn’t seem fazed at all by Bucky’s outburst.
“You’re my heir. I make my decisions based on what’s best for our family. Nothing about this decision is impulsive or frivolous, James,” he finally answers, his voice cool and even. There’s nothing familial in his tone—George Barnes is all business. 
“You can’t just decide that I’m getting married. I won’t do it. I refuse,” Bucky tells him. He balls his fists at his sides and he sets his jaw, furious. How dare his father try to control his life like this? It’s one thing to occupy the majority of Bucky’s nights and weekends with dates, meetings, dinners, and weapons runs, but it’s another to throw him into a marriage he doesn’t want.
“I can and you will. If you don’t, there will be consequences. To start, you will be immediately cut off from our family. You will have no money, no home, no resources, and no contact or communication with anyone involved in the business, including your mother and your sister.”
Heart pounding, Bucky glares at him. He’s got a migraine coming on. He knows his father isn’t kidding, but he wants more than anything for Steve to pop out and say that this is all just a joke. He’s never even met Theo’s daughter. He’s barely even met Theo. According to the rumors, his only daughter is his most prized treasure. She isn’t someone who frequents any of the bars, clubs, and restaurants that he and the other “mob children” frequent. Maybe “mob children” isn’t exactly the right term, at least not anymore. After all, Bucky’s engaged now. He’s just part of the mob, another pawn to be moved around the chessboard.
“You have the rest of the day off. I’ll see you at eight tomorrow morning,” says George. He picks up his glass and downs the last of the liquor. “Theo and his family are coming for breakfast, and then Y/N will be moving in with us. I want you on your best behavior.”
He pauses and Bucky continues to glare at him, not validating his words with a response. George’s eyes grow dark with a thinly veiled threat. Bucky knows that look—if he pushes his father any harder, he’ll regret it. 
“Do you understand, boy?”
“Yes, sir,” Bucky grinds out.
Turning on his heel, Bucky stalks out of the library and slams the door behind him. He immediately heads down the hall, then down the stairs and across the ground floor of the Barnes Estate to the garage. His keys are still in his pocket; he’d only just gotten back from a night out with Steve when his father had summoned him.
It doesn’t matter that he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Bucky climbs onto his bike and revs the engine, speeding off down the long driveway that winds around the house. The guards barely get the gate open in time and then he’s flying down the road, heading straight to Steve’s bar in the city. He knows his friend will be there, most likely nursing his hangover and going over the books in his back office. He won’t be hard to convince to go out again, though Bucky knows he won’t approve of the plan to drink as much as he possibly can in the next twelve hours. It doesn’t matter, though—it’s Bucky’s last night as a free man, and he’s determined to make the most of it.
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You sit between your parents, staring at the empty seat across from you. They’d told you this morning that you were going to the Barnes Estate for breakfast, and while you’d expected the grandeur of the dining room and the meal, you didn’t expect the eldest Barnes child to be completely absent. You’ve never met him, but your mother has insisted that you speak to James—George Barnes’ only son and heir—as much as possible during the meal. Supposedly, he’s the same age as you.
Rebecca Barnes is a ray of sunshine and her cheery disposition is a stark contrast to the dark clouds that now hang over your fathers’ heads. Maybe it’s a deal gone wrong or maybe it’s something else, but you don’t like it. It leaves an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Silently, you sneak a hand under the table to find your mother’s. You squeeze and your mom squeezes back, glancing over to give a reassuring smile.
“Y/N,” Mrs. Barnes starts, and you jump a little in your seat. You haven’t been verbally addressed since you’d been seated a half hour ago. The food has yet to be served. “Your parents tell us that you’re very interested in horticulture. Did you know we have a rose garden out back?”
You force a polite smile. “I don’t know about very interested. I have a few house plants that I’ve managed to keep alive, though I would love to see your garden sometime. I’m sure it’s beautiful,” you add.
“Maybe Bucky can take you,” Rebecca says, earning herself a sharp look from her mother. She simply shrugs.
Oh, to be as unbothered as Rebecca Barnes!
“Where is James?” your father asks. His voice is a low, threatening growl and you sink down in your chair, staring at the cloth napkin still folded atop your plates.
“He knows to be here,” Mr. Barnes growls back. “You’ll have to excuse his tardiness, he’s not normally like this.”
Mrs. Barnes gives Rebecca an even harsher look when she opens her mouth to speak, and this time the girl actually looks ashamed. She takes a sip of her orange juice to hide the guilty look on her face. She’s the first person to have actually touched something on the table, and it’s like whatever spell the room has been under is broken.
All at once, the dining room springs to life. A short, slightly heavy-set woman in a gray dress and white apron enters through one door. She’s holding a delicate silver coffeepot and the smell of coffee instantly fills the room. Two younger women in identical uniforms follow behind her, each of them pushing golden carts laden with food. Through the door across the room, a tall man with short, dark brown hair stumbles in. He’s wearing all black, from his rumpled button-up and jeans to his boots and sunglasses. His hair is sticking up in every direction and just like the coffee, you can smell the stench of alcohol coming from him even from your seat.
You grimace at the smell and pull your napkin into your lap as one of the women comes to place food in front of you. It’s a formal dining service and the strange new man who’s entered feels entirely out of place. From his attire to the way he shuffles across the antique rug, everything about him screams that he’d rather be anywhere else. If you acted like that, your father would be pulling you back out into the hallway to reprimand you, and you look anxiously at Mr. Barnes, who’s seated at the head of the table. 
“James,” he greets, his voice unnervingly even. A chill runs down your spine. “It’s nice of you to join us. I trust that you slept well last night?”
James collapses into the only empty chair at the table, the one across from you, and pointedly ignores his father. You risk a glance up at him as he reaches for the cup of coffee that’s already been poured.
True to form, Rebecca leans over and claps a hand on her brother’s shoulder blade. “Good morning! Aren’t you excited to have breakfast with our guests?” she shouts, and her smirk makes it much too clear that she’s fully enjoying the way her brother’s scowl deepens. Rebecca also ignores her parents, including her mother, who leans forward to look past James and give her a look of warning.
James shrugs his sister off of him and starts buttering the toast on his plate. You watch for a moment, then start picking at your own food as your mother also begins to eat. Everyone’s acting so strangely that you’re already on edge, and you’ve only managed to get down a few grapes and two bites of dry toast by the time your father speaks up again.
“So when are we signing these papers?” he asks, sipping his coffee. 
“As soon as the marriage license is signed,” answers Mr. Barnes.
You frown. Marriage license? Who’s getting married?
“And the terms are the same as when we last spoke?”
Mr. Barnes sips his own drink, something that looks suspiciously like whiskey, and sets down the glass. “Yes. I have that contract in my office. We’ll review and sign after we’re done here. Are all of your daughter’s things ready to be moved?”
Your stomach drops and you turn to stare at your father with wide eyes. He nods, not even paying attention to you as he continues his conversation with the other man. Your mother pointedly ignores you, choosing instead to stare at her plate as she eats. When you look around the room, it seems like almost everyone else is doing the same. Rebecca is the only person who actually meets your panicked gaze. She gives you a pitying look as your anxiety rises.
It feels like your mouth is filled with sandpaper, and you grab your glass of juice. You have to drink half of it before the feeling even mildly abates. As soon as you set it down, one of the women in gray appears to refill it.
“What’s going on? Why are you moving my stuff?” you finally choke out. You twist the napkin in your lap with both hands, wringing it as you look from one person’s face to the next.
Mr. Barnes stops mid-sentence and the whole room freezes. Even James, who’s pouring something into his coffee cup from a small silver flask, stops what he’s doing.
“Y/N, sweetheart,” your mother begins, taking your hand under the table.
You want to pull away. You don’t.
“After breakfast, your father and I are going home, but you’ll be staying here with the Barneses.”
“What?” you whisper, your eyes filling with tears. “No, I don’t— I don’t want to stay here. You never said anything about me—“
“We’re getting married,” James interrupts. He’s chewing and you look over at him, gaping at the casual way he’s sprawled out in his chair. You can feel his gaze on you even from behind his sunglasses and it makes you feel dirty. 
“Excuse me?”
He chuckles and sits up, then leans forward in the chair. He drops the greasy strip of bacon he’d been eating onto his plate. “We’re getting married. They’re using us like bartering chips, sweetheart. You and me in exchange for all the drugs and all the territory in New York.” James gestures grandly with one hand, a too-wide grin on his face. There must be at least ten rings on each of his hands and you swallow thickly at the threatening display of black and silver metal.
You’re trembling now and you pull your hand away from your mom’s. She reaches for you again but you shake your head, shying away from her touch. Frantically, you look around the room to see if this is some kind of joke or a drunken rambling, but no one is laughing. Even Mrs. Barnes has the decency to look sympathetic on your behalf.
“No, no. You wouldn’t—“ You look back at your parents, imploring them to say that it isn’t true. You swallow thickly, trying to stave off tears, and your voice wavers as you prompt, “Mom? Dad?”
Their silence speaks volumes and a whimper escapes you as you wring your hands in your lap. The napkin slides onto the floor. It suddenly feels like you can’t breathe and when your mom reaches out for a second time and starts to tell you to calm down, you jerk away and stand. The chair falls backwards behind you, but you ignore it as you rush out of the dining room and into the hallway you’d entered from. Everything is unfamiliar. Frantically, you pick a door and yank on the handle. It doesn’t give way and you continue the process until one of them finally opens and you can rush inside. You lock it behind you and press your back against the door. The curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows are closed, shrouding the room in darkness. You can’t make out much of the furniture through the tears in your eyes.
Out in the hallway, you can hear your mother calling for you and your father arguing with Mr. Barnes. Mrs. Barnes is yelling at somebody too, but it’s hard enough to hear the others over your own gasps and sobs. You’re properly crying now and you sink to the floor, curling up on the carpet as you heave. It’s a good thing you weren’t able to stomach much breakfast.
A knock on the door makes you yelp and then cry harder, and you crawl into the darkness of the room to try and find a hiding spot. You’re lucky enough to find an old, heavy desk right away. It’s the perfect size for you to crawl under for shelter, and there’s no chair for you to move out of the way. The drawers on both sides create a cubby for you, so you crawl into it and curl up into a ball with your back towards the door, just in case someone manages to get in. If you’re quiet enough, it’s possible they’ll walk right past you.
The crowd in the hallway has definitely heard you by now. The doorknob is rattling as whoever’s on the other side tries to get in, but after a few minutes, they stop and the hallway goes quiet. You hold your breath after every couple of sobs, listening for any sign that they’ve found a key or that they’re picking the lock. Nothing happens, however, and after a while, you give up on listening.
You sit in the darkness and cry until you’re thoroughly exhausted. Once you’ve run out of tears, you sit and zone out with your head resting against the side of the desk drawers for a while longer, numb from the news. Your body feels light and a buzzing, tingling feeling makes moving your limbs seem impossible. You could’ve never imagined that your parents would be so capable of treating you so poorly. You’ve always felt so loved by them, and to hear that they’ve practically thrown you away at the first chance of a profit makes you want to puke. Upon that realization, you actually do throw up, and the stink of your vomit on the carpet of whatever room you’re in makes you want to cry all over again.
The door opens just as the stench is becoming too much to bear. Light floods in from the hallway and you squint, curling up in fear. After a moment, the shorter woman in the gray uniform that you’d seen at breakfast appears a few feet away from the desk, right in the path of light. You look up at her. 
“Oh dear,” she sighs, and you instantly feel ashamed at the disappointment in her voice.
“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. Your bottom lip is trembling again as fresh tears somehow appear in your eyes. Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your wrists. “I can clean it if you—“
“You’ll do no such thing,” the woman says. Her voice is gentle and kind, so much so that you don’t feel the need to argue with her. She waves her hand dismissively and approaches you, then holds out both hands. She’s careful not to step in the mess you’ve made. “Now come on, up you go.”
You let her help you to your feet and then you straighten out your clothes, sniffling and wiping at your nose again in a desperate attempt to look more put together than you feel. Still a bit unsteady, you whimper for a second time, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright, dear.” She gives you a warm smile. “My name’s Marta. I’m the head housekeeper here. It’s very nice to meet you.”
You don’t feel the same way about meeting her, given the circumstances, but you hold that comment to yourself and simply nod in agreement. Marta leads you back out into the too-bright hallway. It’s empty except for a bald man mopping the floor on the far end.
The high ceilings and glossy marble floors make it look like you’re in a castle. Even the silence feels regal. Everything seems so cold compared to your home, and you feel too small in the massive space.
“What time is it?” you quietly ask, looking back at Marta.
“It’s almost noon, Miss.”
Your stomach sinks and you press your lips together, inhaling deeply as you look around again. Three hours have passed.  “My parents…”
“They left about fifteen minutes after breakfast,” she tells you. Her words are matter-of-fact, even if she delivers the news in the softest possible way.
Somehow it hurts worse that they’ve left you than finding out they’d practically sold you to the Barneses in exchange for God knows what. Drugs or territory, whatever James had said. Not only did they treat you like nothing, but they’d deserted you after it was clear you didn’t agree with their plans. They hadn’t even tried to reassure you that they still loved you or that you’d still be able to see them. Maybe you wouldn’t be. Maybe they didn’t.
You nod numbly. There’s been nothing to prepare you for this, no precursor or warning, so you keep looking around the hall, though in reality you’re not really seeing anything. 
“Your room is ready upstairs, Miss Y/N. Would you like me to take you?” asks Marta.
You nod again. You feel like you’re underwater as you follow her up a grand staircase and then down a long, narrow hallway. It’s decorated similarly to the ground floor, though with a plush Persian rug running its length. Marta talks as she walks ahead of you, no doubt explaining what the many doors lead to, but her words simply go in one ear and out the other. It’s all so surreal that when you finally get to your own room, you don’t even open the door. Marta has to reach around you to open it, and then she gently ushers you inside when you still don't move.
Just as they had said at breakfast, your belongings have all been moved into the Barnes Estate. The furniture here is different, grander than what you’re used to, but your blankets and pillows are on the bed, and the two bookshelves are packed full of the books you’ve collected over the years. Even the strip from the photo booth at an old friend’s wedding is pinned to the bulletin board above the desk. Someone’s even thought to put your plants on their own table by the window. 
“There’s a bathroom on the left and your closet is on the right,” Marta explains, pointing to each. “If you’re hungry, dinner is at five.”
“Do I have to eat with them?” you ask.
If Marta is surprised by your question, she doesn’t show it. She simply shakes her head with a gentle smile. “No. We can bring food here if you’d like.”
You nod and stand in silence until she leaves and closes the door behind her. Then, after another minute passes, you drag yourself over to the bed, climb under the covers, and close your eyes.
If there’s any mercy left in this life, you think, I’ll fall asleep and never wake up again.
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Weeks pass and you still haven’t adjusted to life at the Barnes Estate. The staff is only slightly less friendly than those you grew up with, but they’re more attentive. It helps that there are more of them. For every member of the Barnes family, yourself included, there are at least four staff members to attend to their every need. It makes you feel like royalty, but it also makes you feel guilty. You don’t need this much. You certainly didn’t ask for it.
You haven’t seen James since the ill-fated breakfast, nor have you seen your parents. They’ve gone so far as to block your number. After that discovery, you’d locked yourself in the massive ensuite bathroom and cried for an hour. Marta had been the one to coax you out. The poor maid who’d found you when coming to get you for dinner hadn’t known how to help. You’d spent that entire evening curled up on your bed while reruns of The Nanny played on the TV embedded in the wall across from the massive mattress. Marta had spent every second with you that she could, but eventually Mrs. Barnes—Winnifred, as you referred to her in your mind—had scolded her for neglecting her nighttime duties across the estate. That made you feel even worse.
“Are you okay?” Rebecca asks, and you turn to look at her from where you’re staring out the hallway windows at the gardeners. The backyard is massive, complete with a rose garden in full bloom, an outdoor swimming pool, a forested walking trail, a large green expanse for games and parties, a gazebo, a fountain, and what seems to be stables far in the distance, though you haven’t ventured far enough to be sure. A visit to the rose garden hasn’t been brought up again either, and nothing seems interesting enough to explore on your own.
Nodding, you don’t say anything before turning back to watch the men work. They talk and laugh with each other as they prune, pick, and water. You wish that you could trade places with them. 
“You don’t look okay,” she says. Rebecca props herself up on the window ledge to your right, facing you with a suspicious look on her face. “We haven’t seen you at any meals, and Valerie told me that you were crying in the bathtub three nights ago.”
You should feel ashamed, but you’re too numb to care. It feels like you’re floating through each day, detached from most things. You’ve spent your entire life thinking that you would marry for love and live happily ever after. Now, your parents have sold you to the highest bidder and your husband-to-be is a cruel, disgusting man-child that wants nothing to do with you.
Rebecca’s fingers lacing with yours jerk you back to reality and you look down at your joined hands in confusion. Her nails are bitten short and she wears a single ring with the Barnes family crest. It’s dainty and gold, a stark contrast to the many rings on her brother’s fingers.
“You’re safe here, Y/N,” she tells you, her voice gentle. “You don’t have to be alone. I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened to you. If I had any say in it, you could be home right now with your parents, but I’m far from the top of the totem pole.”
“I hate them.” You spit the words out and jerk your hand away from hers. “I hate my parents.”
That’s the first time you’ve ever said that in your entire life and your heart skips a beat as the anger makes your lip curl. You’re baring your teeth at her but Rebecca doesn’t even flinch. She’s a mafia princess, through and through.
“They made me believe that I could have anything I wanted, that I could marry whoever I wanted whenever I was ready, and then they threw that all away and treated me like shit the first time it was convenient for them.”
She nods. “That’s true.”
“I was so foolish to have believed them,” you growl, but the fight in you is fading just as quickly as it came. You burn bright, but you burn quickly, too.
“No,” Rebecca says, shaking her head. “You’re just human.”
You look away, embarrassed by your display of emotion as your eyes begin to water with more tears. You were raised to be reserved. You knew very little about the inner workings of your parents’ business, but you’d learned as a young girl that you’d fare better if you always clung to the edges of the room, avoiding the dirt and grime and blood that surrounded your whole life. Over the years, you’ve grown very good at hiding yourself and your emotions from the people around you. From the spark in her eye, you have the feeling that Rebecca is the exact opposite. She could hold her own if it came down to it. You couldn’t.
“It’s okay to be upset,” she insists.
Shaking your head, you take a deep breath and look back out the window. You lift your chin slightly and when Rebecca tries to rope you into another conversation with her, you ignore her and focus on the men outside. They’re finished tending to the roses on the edges of the garden. Now they’re working their way inwards.
You’re finally left alone a few minutes later and as soon as she’s around the corner, you let out a heavy sigh and relax your posture. Slumping forward, you lean forward into the window ledge, curling up just a little as you continue to watch the gardeners. The silly song from Alice in Wonderland pops into your head and you hum along, eventually mumbling to yourself about painting the roses red.
You feel a little bit like Alice, you realize. You’re out of your element in a strange land where everything you’ve learned about life seems to be turned on its head. In this world, nobody marries for love and the girls are just as entrenched in the business as the men. Does Rebecca conduct business with her father and older brother? You could certainly picture it. Will the same be expected of you?
That afternoon, Marta knocks on your door with a written invitation from Winnifred. Your presence is being formally requested at their dinner table, though from the look the housekeeper is giving you, it’s more of a demand than a request. With her help, you pick out something to wear. By the time five o’clock rolls around, you’re crossing the enormous hallway in a dress and heels that you’ve never seen before. It’s far too showy for your taste, but it’s clearly something someone wanted you to wear. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have put it in your closet.
George Barnes and James stand when you enter the dining room, as do several other men you don’t recognize. Your father is standing near the head of the table with George, though your mother and Rebecca are nowhere in sight. Besides Winnifred, you don’t recognize any of the other women. The only empty seat is beside James and your immediate instinct is to flee, but then he’s stepping aside to pull out the chair and all eyes are on you.
Slowly, you close the distance between the two of you and sit. He helps you scoot in, then takes his own seat on your right. The other men sit as well and then dinner resumes. You sit in silence, staring at the top edge of your plate with your hands in your lap. You’re not really listening to the conversations around you, either, but you can feel someone’s eyes on you as you try to stay as quiet and motionless as possible.
“Are you sick or something?”
You startle and look up with wide eyes. James is watching you. He’s got one hand on the table with his fingers brushing the stem of his wineglass and the other resting on his thigh. Unlike your fateful breakfast weeks ago, James is dressed in a neat, all-black suit. He has no tie, and his rings are all gone except one. It’s identical to Rebecca’s family crest, except his is silver and has a thicker band.
His eyes are full of something you can’t place and you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. As quickly as you turned to him, you turn away and look back at your plate. The napkin is folded in some elaborate way on top of the plate. You’re not sure if it’s supposed to resemble anything at all, but maybe if you stare at it long enough, it will look like something.
“Y/N?” he prompts. You nod once, tightly, and then pull the heavy cloth napkin into your lap when a server appears to present the first course.
Between the second and third course, you can feel James’ eyes on you. After the third, he gets roped into conversation with a man sitting across the table, but you know that he’s glancing at you all the while. After the fourth, he bumps his arm against yours. You shirk away and feel him tense beside you.
“Excuse me,” you mumble, and you push your chair away from the table. Immediately, the conversations stop and all the men stand again. It’s too much attention on you and you hurry out of the dining room as fast as your heels and dress will allow. You’re stumbling over yourself by the time you get back to your suite on the third floor. The door slams behind you and you collapse onto the floor beside the bed, too overwhelmed to even climb atop the oversized mattress. You’re on the verge of tears when there’s a soft knock from the door, and that rips a sob from your chest that you hadn’t expected.
Immediately, the door opens and James is standing in the open space, a dark look on his face. You sob again and scramble backwards until the edge of the bed frame is digging painfully into your spine.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
You swallow hard and take several gasping breaths, trying to control yourself. Your mind is spinning with insults, calling you weak and pathetic, and you believe every one.
“It’s just too much,” you answer through your tears. “I don’t want this!”
James huffs. His angry expression has faded, now replaced with something more akin to irritation. “And you think I do?”
You shake your head. “Of course not.”
“These are the cards we’ve been dealt, doll. You’re gonna have to get over it. Let’s just get married and then we can live happily ever after in a big house where we never have to see each other. I’ll do what I want and you can do what you want. Sound like a plan?”
You look down at your hands. A big part of you wants to say that no, it doesn’t sound like a plan. You don’t want that life. You don’t want a house so big that you practically need a golf cart to get from one side to the other. You don’t want a husband who ignores you in favor of his blood money or his side chick or the next shiny toy off the black market. You don’t want James.
Though every part of you is screaming the opposite, you nod. He crosses the room and you inhale sharply to steady yourself as he approaches you with no care. His black dress shoes are tracking dirt across the rug. James holds out a hand to help you up and you take it. The heirloom ring on his right hand digs into yours until you’re standing, and then he drops your hand like it’s on fire.
“We need to go back,” he tells you, and you nod again. “Our parents are pissed.”
“Of course they are,” you mumble. 
James pauses, staring at you critically. You’ve been staring at the baseboards since he helped you up, but when he doesn’t move or speak, you glance upwards at him. He’s got one eyebrow raised. His expression is thoroughly unreadable otherwise and an unsettling feeling blooms in your stomach.
“What?” you ask. You step back a little, but there’s no place to go except up against the bed again.
He shakes his head at you. “Nothing. Come on, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.” You scrunch your nose. “Anything but that.”
“Sugar?” he offers, and when you shake your head, he sighs. “Well, what do you want me to call you, since you’re suddenly the one calling the shots?”
His words cut deep and you look back down, hating the way shame immediately pools in your belly. How could he seem angry and irritated with you, then borderline kind, and then completely disinterested in your feelings the next? It’s disorienting, and you don’t need that on top of everything else.
“That’s what I thought. Let’s go.”
Grabbing your arm in a grip just bordering on painful, James pulls you out of your bedroom and back down the hall. He holds on as you stumble behind him in your heels. When you reach the ground floor hallway again, he drops his hand and offers you his arm. You’re hesitant to take it, but he sighs a little and you decide that it’s easier to give in than to put up a fight.
The two of you walk back into the dining room and the conversations immediately hush. James leads you to your waiting seats, pulls out the chair for you, and then helps you scoot towards the table again once you’re seated. As he takes his spot beside you, your father speaks up.
“Have you and James discussed when you’ll be getting married?” he asks.
You pick up your fork and stare at the strange food on your plate, ignoring him. Though your stomach is churning, you force yourself to take a bite. He can’t expect you to answer while you’re chewing—it would be bad manners.
“Next spring,” James answers. “In the rose garden.”
You want to spit on the roses. You swallow your food instead.
“Good choice,” Mr. Barnes agrees. He turns his attention back to your father. “Your daughter is quite the well-behaved woman. She’ll do well with our James.”
Beside you, James tenses again, his grip tightening slightly on his fork. You glance at him, holding your breath, and wait until he relaxes again to take another bite of your food. 
The rest of the dinner passes with mundane, meaningless conversations. Nobody addresses you for the remainder of the meal, not even your parents, and finally the men begin to make their way out of the dining room to an adjoining room. You hadn’t even realized there was a room connected; the door is hidden amongst the paneling and crown molding on the walls.
“You can’t go in there.” James grabs your wrist as you stand to follow the group of men into the new room. His voice isn’t malicious and his grip isn’t tight, but you flinch away from him anyway. It’s only then that you realize the few women that had been in the room are leaving through the door to the hall with their wineglasses in hand.
“Because I’m a woman?” you counter.
“Because you don’t want to hear the things that they’re going to discuss,” he answers. He tosses his napkin on the table and stands, towering over you. After a long second of eye contact, he steps away from you and heads towards the men.
You watch him go and silently weigh your options. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have even thought about following the men into the second room. You would have simply taken the same path as the other woman, though your wine would have continued to remain untouched. Now, however, with your wine in hand, you stood at a crossroads. You could go into the room and potentially face the wrath of your father, James, and George Barnes, or you could live forever curious as to what was actually being discussed. 
With your mind made up, you down your wine, step around James, and head through the open door into the room. It’s a study with dark wood paneling on the walls, leather couches, and stale cigar smoke in the air. As soon as you enter, the laughter and conversation stop and all eyes land on you.
“Y/N, you should be with Winnie and your mother,” Mr. Barnes says, stepping towards you. James is behind you now and though you’re hedged in, you simply lift your chin at the older man.
“Why? Am I not allowed to know what family I’m marrying into?”
His face darkens. “Girl, I’m warning you—”
“Don’t speak to my wife like that.” James’ voice from over your shoulder startles you and you quickly turn your head, looking back at him with shock. 
Why is he suddenly standing up for me?
“Hold your tongue, James,” his father snaps. “You aren’t married yet, and Y/N needs to learn her place. One would think her father would have taught her better, considering the problems his wife caused.”
Though you hate your parents for what they’ve done to you, your blood boils at the insult. Your anger rears its ugly head even more when you realize that your father doesn’t look intent on standing up for you or your mom, either.
“That’s enough!”
You swear the room rattles around you when James shouts and you grit your teeth, furious at Mr. Barnes. How dare he insult your father? How dare he talk to you and his son that way?
James grabbing your hand shocks you back into reality. Once again, his grip is almost painfully tight, but you force your face to reveal nothing.
“Y/N and I are going out. If I so much as hear that you’ve said a single thing about her in my absence, you will regret ever giving me any kind of power in this business,” he growls. “The next time you see her, I expect that you’ll treat her with the respect she deserves.” 
The men stare at you and James in disbelief, and then you find yourself being practically dragged out of the room. You’re too stunned to fight back, so you let him pull you across the ground floor of the estate to a door only two down from the dark room where you’d hit the morning your parents had left you behind.
“We’ll have to take the car, unless you’re okay riding the bike in that dress,” James says, pushing open the door. He doesn’t look back at you as he speaks, and it takes you a second to realize he wants a response.
“Car,” you answer after a few seconds. “Please.”
The room James has led you to is a massive garage, stretching farther than you ever realized a similar room could. Three of the walls are made of light gray cement, as are the floor and ceiling, and the fourth wall is made up of windowed garage doors, each one big enough for several cars to drive through simultaneously. Running down the center of the rectangular garage, there is a row of seven parked cars, with enough space to fit at least another car between each one, and beyond that, you can see a row of several motorcycles parked in a similar manner. The cars are in varying shades of gray and black, with the exception of one red sports car at the far end of the group. You can’t see the bikes well enough from the door, but you catch glimpses of blue, silver, gray, and black.
Four enormous, black and silver tool chests are lined up against the wall facing the hoods of the cars, but there isn’t a spot of oil or dirt in sight. You don’t even see any loose tools or equipment. Looking around, you wonder if the tool chests are just there for decoration, or if someone on the estate actually works on the cars and motorcycles.
Maybe James works on them?
“Are all of these yours?” you ask, unable to help yourself. He seems like the kind of guy who would enjoy driving around for fun, and he’s just mentioned something about a bike. You stare at the side of James’ face as he plucks a set of keys off a black pegboard on the wall. There’s a button embedded in the wall beside the board. James pushes it with one thumb and the keys in his hand bump against the wall.
One of the garage doors near the last few cars starts to roll upwards onto the ceiling, revealing the outside of the estate. The sun has completely disappeared from the sky, and the moonlight is blocked by the clouds you’d seen rolling in earlier in the afternoon. The leaves of the large shade trees that surround the estate and form a protective shield from the outside world rustle in the wind. Crickets and cicadas chirp, reminding you of the cool spring nights you’d spent on your family estate as a little girl. You’d run around in the grass near the garden while your mom or your nanny watched you. Sometimes your father’s men would watch from the perimeter of the property, and when you’d wave, they’d wave back, asking what you’d done that day. You always answered them, even if you knew it would get you in trouble. They never stopped asking either, even if it got them in trouble, too.
You stop walking and close your eyes, then breathe in deeply as the night air rushes into the garage. It’s the first time you’ve been even close to the outdoors since arriving at the Barnes Estate. Your skin is still warm from the stifling dining room and the anger you’d felt in the men’s study. The breeze is a blessed relief, even if you do shiver after only a moment. Goosebumps form on your exposed skin—the dress Marta had picked out for you did little to keep you safe from the elements. 
James keeps walking down the aisle formed by the wall and the front of the cars, though you hear his footsteps pause a few moments after you stop following him. 
“Are you okay?” he asks.
You’re a little surprised that he’s not demanding that you catch up. When you open your eyes, you immediately meet his gaze, and a weird feeling bubbles up in your stomach. The expression on his face betrays little, but his stare reminds you of the way your father’s men looked at you all those years ago—interested and almost fond, but ready to push you away at a moment’s notice. You nod and hurry to catch up with him.
Once you get closer, James presses a button on the key fob in his hand. One of the cars in front of the open garage door rumbles to life. The sound it makes is a low purr, almost seductive, and you raise an eyebrow as James approaches, then runs his fingers over the hood. Even if the others aren’t, this car has to be his. It’s a sleek black, with dark tinted windows and a gleaming silver grill in the front. The BMW logo shines proudly in the center. It looks like a car your own father would own. Though you know he’s never owned a BMW, if this car is anything like the ones in your father’s fleet, you know that the inside will be as much a picture of luxury as the outside.
You slide into the passenger seat when James opens the door for you, and in the time it takes him to cross around the front of the car to the driver’s side, you take inventory of the interior. It’s a manual transmission—something your father once said was obsolete, except for car collectors and enthusiasts—which means that you wouldn’t be able to drive it, even if you tried. The car is pristine, so much so that you’re afraid to move. Two water bottles are in the cupholders, and it still smells brand new inside. There isn’t a speck of dirt or dust on the dashboard, nor on the floor mats. The leather seat is soft and there’s a control for seat warming and cooling on the control panel.
James climbs into the driver’s seat and shuts the door. He buckles up and you follow his lead, and then you sit back as he reverses the car out of the garage and onto a winding driveway that leads you around the front of the estate, then along the other side to a large gate with a guard house. You’d forgotten about the extensive security since the last time you’d been outside the Barnes Estate. Your father had handed over your driver’s license, along with his and your mother’s, before breakfast all those weeks ago, and there’d been a strange code word of some kind. It dawns on you as the guard opens the gate for you and James that you’d never gotten your license back.
“Where are we going?” you ask as James pulls onto the main road. It leads away from the estate and into the city. 
“To get some real food,” he replies. His tone is gruff, and it feels like he’s on the verge of an angry outburst, so you slump back in your seat as he shifts gears and the car accelerates. The tension in the car is thick. You don’t want to be the one to deal with it, especially since he’s the one creating it.
After several minutes of watching the enormous mansions and the forests surrounding them pass by, you look over at James again. His expression, just like in the garage, reveals nothing, but you can tell that he’s more put-together than the last time you’d interacted, and it’s not just the tailored suit. His hair has been trimmed and styled, and he has an even dusting of stubble that frames his jawline nicely.
In the time since you’d learned you were engaged, James hasn’t said anything to you. You’ve heard him talking in the hallways as you wandered, but you haven’t wanted to be near him. This is the closest you’ve ever been. Your brief conversations so far tonight make up the majority of the words you’ve spoken to each other. His words from the bedroom echo in your head, until finally, you can’t help but blurt out your thoughts.
“Do you really not want to marry me?” you ask. Your voice sounds small and pathetic, and you hate it, but it’s too late now. 
He glances over at you with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gear shift. “What do you mean?”
You sit up a little in the seat, though you keep your hands in your lap and you try not to move your feet, just in case there’s dirt on your shoes.
“I mean,” you say, watching him carefully for his reaction, “that when you came to get me upstairs, you said you didn’t want to marry me. Is that really true?”
“I never said that.” He shifts gears again as you near a stoplight, and the car slows. 
“Yes, you did.”
“No,” he shifts again, his teeth now clenched, “I didn’t. I asked if it looked like I wanted to marry you, and you said it didn’t. But I never said I didn’t want to.”
Now you’re confused, and you frown at him, ignoring the obvious irritation in his voice. The car rolls to a stop behind a Ferrari blasting music out the open windows. 
“So you do want to marry me?” you ask. 
He sighs and drops his hand from the gear shift, then looks over at you. “Y/N, I’m not going to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do, so if this is you testing to see how I’ll treat you, then you have nothing to worry about. I’m not a monster.”
“It’s not. I just…” You stop, unsure of how to phrase what you’re feeling. It’s strange to be upset over a marriage you don’t even want, but for some reason, you are. 
“What?”
“If you don’t want to marry me and I don’t want to marry you, then why are we going along with this?” you finally ask, settling for the bigger question than the one that’s truly nagging at you.
“Because we know that if we don’t, life will be hell,” he answers.
It’s the truth. You know it is, and you know it deep down. If the two of you refuse this marriage, your life will be worse than you could possibly imagine, and you’re fairly certain that your fathers will find a way to make it happen anyhow. They’re well-connected in every sphere of life, not just when it comes to drugs and weapons. Your father probably has a priest on his payroll.
The light turns green and James moves the car forward again, merging into the right lane almost immediately. He slows as you approach a valet stand outside an upscale bar you’ve never heard of. It’s not one of your father’s, which means it probably belongs to George Barnes.
Then again, you think as a uniformed man opens your door, maybe it belongs to James.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Barnes,” a valet on the other side of the car greets.
James hands him the keys. “You too, Tommy. Listen, don’t park it too far off. We’re not staying too long.”
The man nods and climbs into the driver’s seat as your own valet leads you away from the curb. James meets you next to the valet stand and offers you his arm, then heads towards the doors.
“What is this place?” you ask as he holds open the door for you.
“My friend’s bar,” James says.
Your stomach twists itself in knots as heavy club music starts to get louder. The bass rumbles in your chest and you dig your nails into his arm as you near a set of glossy black double doors. You haven’t been to a club in a long time. The last time you’d gone, you’d been dragged by a childhood acquaintance, but you’d spent most of the night alone after she’d ditched you for someone she met on the dance floor. You’re not particularly eager to relive that experience tonight, especially with the man you’re being forced to marry. Who’s to say he won’t ditch you for someone else right in front of you, just to rub it in your face? After all, he’d said it himself in the bedroom—you’ll do what you want and he’ll do what he wants. It’s the cards you’ve been dealt.
If these are the cards, then I’ve got a sucky hand.
“James—”
“Bucky.”
You stop and squint at him in the low light of the entrance hallway. The two bouncers in all-black suits stop with their hands on the door handles, ready to open them for you once you start walking again. The music pounds in your ears, so much so that you can feel your eardrums vibrating.
“What?” you ask, not sure you’d heard him correctly.
“Bucky,” repeats James, a little louder this time. “You should call me Bucky, if we’re going to be married.”
“Is that… a nickname?” 
Even in the darkness, you can see him laugh, and a bashful, boyish smile spreads across his face. “My middle name is Buchanan. Steve used to tease me about it when we were kids, and he started calling me Bucky as a joke. It caught on.” He shrugs it off, but there’s a fondness in his voice when he speaks of his childhood friend, and it makes you smile just a little.
You loosen your grip on his arm. “Okay then. Bucky,” you add.
When Bucky steps forward again, the doors are pulled open, revealing a much more casual bar than you could’ve anticipated. Though it’s clean, it looks a little run down, and the heavy music fades into jazz piano as you step through the open doorway and into the large, open space. With almost cathedral-height ceilings, walnut floors and support pillars, and well-worn wooden booths and tables, the bar feels more homier than you’d expected. It’s clearly been well-hidden from the busy crowds of New York. Only a few patrons are scattered around the room, sitting in the booths or at two-top tables, but Bucky leads you to the wood, u-shaped bar that juts out into the room from the back wall. A single man stands behind it, drying glasses with a white bar towel. He smiles when he looks up and sees you approaching.
“Bucky,” he greets, and he reaches over the bar to pull Bucky in for a hug. It’s the first time you see Bucky smile—a real, full, genuine smile—and you watch in silence as he hugs his friend.
“Steve,” Bucky replies. Instantly, your brain starts connecting the dots. This is his childhood friend, the one who gave him his nickname.
“Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil.” Steve turns his attention to you, and you quickly look away from Bucky and at him. Your brain whirs as you try to place the language he’s just spoken. It’s not one you’ve heard before, which means none of your father’s men speak it, and neither do any of the Barneses.
“You must be Y/N.”
You nod and offer Steve a small, polite smile. You’re not sure how to act around Bucky’s friends. If they’re also part of the mob, it’s possible they’ll treat you even worse than George Barnes had after dinner, but a new, surprising voice in your head argues that Bucky would never be friends with someone like that.
“It’s okay,” reassures Bucky. He reaches out and touches your arm, gentler than he has all evening. “Steve’s a nice guy, and he knows about our family businesses. You can trust him.”
Steve looks between the two of you before picking up a glass and setting it right-side-up in front of you. “What’ll it be, Y/N?”
You glance at him, then at the wall of liquor behind him. After a moment, you list off a drink that’s not your favorite, but that you know you’ll be able to stomach no matter the circumstances. Steve nods in response before starting to make it.
Silently, Bucky takes one of the chairs at the bar, and you do the same. He sits with his arms folded on the counter. He’s still wearing his suit from dinner. You feel a little out of place in your fancy clothes, and you wonder if he feels the same.
Your drink is placed in front of you a moment later, and after Steve’s silent prompting, you take a sip. It’s delicious, and you can’t help but smile at him.
“Aha, I’ve still got it!” Steve cheers, and you laugh. He grins at you, a charming type of smile that makes your heart flutter in your chest. You feel a little sheepish at the intensity of his joy, and you fidget in your seat, then with your hair.
Beside you, Bucky rolls his eyes and tosses a round paper coaster at his friend. “Knock it off, Rogers,” he huffs. “Stop flirting with my girl. You’ve already got one of your own.”
You glance over when he calls you that, but you don’t say anything. There’s another weird feeling in your gut now. This one, unlike the one you’d had in the car or the fluttering feeling Steve had given you, you recognize immediately—pride. It feels good to have Bucky call you “his girl”, even if you barely know him. It’s strange, and the thought makes you squirm in your seat again. You drop your hand down to the bartop and take another sip of your drink, trying to quell the strange feelings inside of you. 
What is going on with me? Why can’t I just feel normal about all of this? Is there even a normal way to feel about this?
“You hungry?” asks Bucky, and you nod when you realize he’s talking to you again.
“I make a mean twice-baked potato,” Steve says. He plants his hands on the bar to look between the two of you. “Whaddaya say, Y/N? You up for it?”
“Only if you put the jalapeños on the side this time, punk,” Bucky tells him before you can reply. He seems to remember himself a second later, however, because he looks over at you. “Unless, of course, you want them on top.”
You shrug, not wanting to upset anyone, and Steve groans.
“Come on, Y/N,” he says, and he smiles wide as he gestures around the almost-empty bar. “I’ve got all the time in the world to make your food exactly the way you want it. Don’t make me guess.”
“He’s bad at guessing,” Bucky chimes in.
“Terrible,” Steve adds, nodding earnestly.
Tentatively, you list off what you want, and Steve makes a note of everything on a notepad that seems to appear out of nowhere. Once he’s got your order down, he disappears through a door in the back wall. Before it closes, you catch a glimpse of a shining kitchen filled with stainless steel, and you wonder how many patrons come through the bar if Steve has what looks to be a full-sized kitchen in the back.
“You didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured I’d bring you someplace that actually has good food,” Bucky says. He reaches across the bar to grab a bottle of beer Steve has left out, and he uses one hand to pry the top off. 
You gape at him, too distracted by the blatant show of strength to properly process the very thoughtful thing he’s just said to you. “What?”
“I said that you didn’t eat much at dinner, so I figured—”
“You just pulled the top off like it was nothing. How did you do that?” You look around on Steve’s side of the bar for another bottle, hoping to try your luck. Maybe it’s some new kind of bottle that he’s trying out before it hits the market, or maybe Steve has bootleg beer with a different kind of cap.
Bucky is staring at you, seemingly just as confused as you. “With my arm.”
“With your arm?” you repeat. You’re certain that he’d used his hand to pry it off.
He stares at you for a second longer before the confusion disappears and is replaced with a glint of mischief in his eyes. It makes the shadows on his face melt away a little, and his blue irises seem bright and youthful again, entirely unlike a man who’s seen too much.
“My arm,” he reiterates, and then he pulls off the black glove you’d assumed to be part of his personal style. It’s not just for show, however, because he pulls it off to reveal a black metal hand with dull gold knuckles. Bucky continues, standing and shrugging off his jacket, then rolling up the sleeve of his button-down shirt. As he reveals more and more, you realize that the black metal continues, making up what would be his left arm.
No wonder it hurt when he grabbed me.
“It’s metal,” you dumbly say, and he snorts.
“Observant.”
You shake your head and look from his arm to meet his eyes. “You have a metal arm. How didn’t I know that?”
Bucky shrugs and drapes his jacket over the back of the chair. He leaves the glove on the bar where he’d first set it down. Once he’s seated again, he rolls up his other sleeve to match.
“Beats me. I figured everyone knew. My dad wasn’t subtle when he was bragging about the arm he had made for me when it first happened,” replies Bucky. He takes a sip of his beer, then sighs and sets it back down.
You don’t want to pity him, so you try your best to school your expression by taking a sip of your own drink.
“Was it an accident?” you ask after a minute has passed. He doesn’t reply right away, and you scramble to save the conversation. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
He shakes his head. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen,” he says, and his voice is quieter than before.
You look back down at the drink in front of you. Twisting the glass around and around, you ask, “And it was an accident?”
Bucky takes another swig of his beer. “I was with my dad, working a job. I didn’t even realize I’d been injured until I woke up in the hospital, two weeks later, missing an arm. Apparently, falling shipping containers are heavy.”
You can’t help but curse. What he’s describing sounds horrible, but Bucky only laughs.
“That sounds about right, yeah. I’m lucky I had Steve around to keep me sane,” he tells you. “My friend Sam was a big help too, but he moved down to Louisiana a few years ago.”
“Steve seems like a good friend,” you agree. “They both do.”
You can feel Bucky staring at you now, and you take a sip of your drink while you wait for him to look away again. When he doesn’t, you glance in his direction.
“What?” you ask.
“What?”
“Why are you staring at me?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes you are!” you laugh, and you look at him fully this time. Bucky’s grinning, and you ball up a cocktail napkin and toss it at him.
“Okay, I was staring,” he admits, still smiling. “But I can’t help it. You’re pretty, and you’re nice, and you seem smart.”
You feel your cheeks grow warm at the compliment, and you look away. “You don’t have to say that. We’re already engaged.”
“I’m not saying it because we’re engaged. I’m saying it because it’s true.”
You don’t have a chance to reply before Steve comes out with two hot plates. He places them in front of you, joking briefly about giving you the wrong order, and it’s distraction enough that you sit up tall and smile wide. You push Bucky’s compliment out of your head as you chow down, groaning and moaning about the potatoes. They’re exactly what you need after the stressful dinner. Bucky was right—you hadn’t eaten much, and Steve’s cooking is delicious.
Once you’re full, you push your plate away and lean back in your chair. Steve grins at you before he goes back to counting the cash drawer. The other patrons have left already, leaving you, Steve, and Bucky alone in the bar.
“That was amazing,” you tell him for the hundredth time, and Steve chuckles.
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to tell mo bhean chéile—my wife—you said that, considering she still believes potatoes aren’t a meal.”
You notice the wedding band on his left hand as soon as he says it. Above it, also in silver, is a familiar ring. If you weren’t able to see the family crest, you would’ve thought it was the same as Bucky’s, but this ring has an eagle and a star engraved on it, rather than the wolf you’ve seen on Rebecca and Bucky’s rings.
“Potatoes are a meal!” you argue. You can tell that Steve has clocked you looking at his rings because he shifts his hand, instinctively blocking your view as he looks for your own ring. You’d taken your parent’s ring off the day you’d cried in the bathtub and you haven’t worn it since, but no one in Bucky’s family has replaced it with their own. It’s the first time since middle school that you haven’t worn a family ring, and you’d be lying if you said it was a weight off your shoulders. You’d thought it might be, but instead it just makes you feel naked.
Steve laughs and his posture relaxes. He stops hiding his rings from you when he realizes your hands are bare. “Well, whenever you meet her, you can have that argument with her, because I’ve already had it at least a dozen times.” He closes the drawer and fixes his eyes on Bucky, who’s just finishing his food. “Speaking of, when are you two coming over? I promised Peg I’d wait until Y/N had settled in to ask, and you seem settled enough to me.” He glances at you for the last part, and you look down at your empty plate.
“It’s not up to me,” answers Bucky. “We’ll come over whenever Y/N is ready. This is the first time we’ve been together since my dad dropped the bomb on us.”
Steve pauses, his hands on the tablet he’d set down before starting to count the night’s profits. “Wait. Really?”
You nod when he looks at you, suddenly self-conscious again, and you pull your hands into your lap. “I haven’t been the best house guest…”
“You’re not a guest, Y/N. It’s your home now, too,” Bucky interjects.
Reaching over the counter, Steve smacks the side of Bucky’s head. His accent is thick when he huffs, “Íosa Críost, you thick! You didn’t think to go talk to her? To see if she wanted to watch a movie? To see if she needed anything?”
Bucky stammers over in his seat, and you keep your head ducked to hide your smile. Clearly, Steve knows more about being married than Bucky does—most likely from experience, since he’s already mentioned his wife—and he isn’t afraid to tell his friend off for not looking out for your well-being.
“I’m sorry!” exclaims Bucky, ducking another hit. “I wasn’t thinking!”
“Like ifreann you weren’t!” Steve retreats and picks up the tablet with a huff, then looks at you. “Y/N, I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with him. He’s actually a nice guy when he’s not being stupid.”
“Stupid?” Bucky protests beside you.
“I wouldn’t have talked to him even if he’d tried,” you admit, finally looking up, “but it wouldn’t have hurt if he had.”
Steve nods, satisfied with your response. He leaves you a minute later when his phone rings. The wide smile on his face is enough to tell you who’s on the other end, but then he says her name as he walks away, the phone already held to his ear.
“So what’s with this place?” you ask. The quick change in subject is purposeful, and you hope that Bucky will take the bait.
Thankfully, he does. Bucky glances around before finishing off the last of his drink and setting the empty bottle closer to Steve’s side of the bar.
“Well, Steve wanted a place that we—and other people like us—could spend time without feeling like there was always a fight about to happen. We didn’t have that growing up, you know? And now that he’s in charge, he can do what he wants with his money. Everything’s filed properly, he doesn’t advertise, and all employees are paid above the table. If other people show up, then sure, they’re welcomed in, but they’re also fully vetted once Steve gets their IDs. Weapons aren’t allowed, and there’s no shop talk of any kind.”
“So it’s your little hideaway,” you say, propping your head up with one hand. The heaviness of the potatoes combined with the alcohol is starting to make you sleepy, and the emotional exhaustion from the night has started to weigh heavy on you, too.
He smiles a little. “Something like that.”
Bucky stands and rolls his sleeves back down, then pulls on his glove. He pulls a wad of cash out of his pocket and sets it on the bar.
“Come on, doll. We should head home,” he says.
The warm feeling you’d felt when Bucky had called you his girl comes back, and you smile a little when he holds open his suit jacket for you. A little sheepish at the gesture, you slide off your seat and let him help you into the sleeves, then take Bucky’s hand when he offers it.
“Bye Steve!” you call, waving with your free hand.
Steve looks up from the other end of the bar, where he’s wiping down a counter with one hand and holding his phone with the other. He lets go of the rag to wave back.
Silently, Bucky leads you out to the front, where the valet already has his car pulled up. You’re not sure how they knew to have it ready, but you don’t dwell on it. Stranger things have happened in your world. Bucky tips the valets with another wad of cash before opening the passenger door and helping you in.
You fall asleep on the drive home. You don’t mean to, but Bucky turns on the radio a few minutes into the drive, and he lets the first station that comes on continue to play. The music is soft, and he drives so smoothly that it lulls you to sleep before you’re even fully out of the city.
When you wake, it’s because Bucky’s stubbed his toe on something, jostling you in his arms. He’s muttering curses under his breath and hobbling down the hallway, and though the jerking motion and his tightening grip isn’t the most comfortable for you at the moment, you keep your eyes closed and force yourself to keep your smile at bay. Bucky is a much sweeter guy than you’d first thought him to be, and it seems like he’s trying now to make up for lost time. You’d misjudged him at first; just like you, he has his own ways of dealing with the life forced on him by his parents, but he really is a gentleman underneath it all.
He carries you to your bedroom and carefully lays you on top of the covers. Then, as gently as possible, you feel him lift your foot and pry off the uncomfortable shoes Marta had picked out for you. Bucky stays totally silent as he takes the shoes off and sets them on the floor at the end of the bed. He pulls a thin blanket over you, one that you’re sure is just for decoration when the bed is made, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. You have to force yourself not to smile when he whispers,
“Goodnight, sleep tight.”
The door clicks shut as he closes it slowly, and you peek open an eye after a few seconds have passed. Your room is dark and empty. Silently, you smile to yourself and crawl under the covers, your eyes heavy. It’s been a long, exhausting evening, and you’re happy to be in bed. You fall asleep to the sound of spring rain on the estate windows and with Bucky’s jacket still wrapped around you.
Over the next few weeks, Bucky slowly enters your life in both big and small ways. He smiles at you over meals in the dining room and late night snacks in the kitchen. He drives you to the city to visit Steve, Peggy, and his other friends, and when he finds out that his father still has your license, Bucky argues with him for over an hour to get it back. Marta delivers your license to your room the very next day, along with a handwritten note that the dark blue Mercedes in the garage is there for your use. Sometimes, you wake up to a bouquet of flowers with another handwritten note. Sometimes it’s a text, and sometimes it’s a gift. Bucky develops a habit of purchasing anything you mention enjoying or even vaguely liking, and you eventually have to tell him to stop because he’s bought you so much that there’s nothing left to buy for yourself.
Bucky turns out to be a closer friend than anyone you’ve ever known. He’s kind, and funny, and intelligent, and he remembers all the little things about you that nobody else does. When you’re sick or feeling lonely, he’s attentive and his presence alone reminds you of all the good things in the world. He makes your days brighter, even the worst ones. You find yourself falling in love with him, much to your surprise. You admit this to him one day. He kisses you then, and he tells you that he’s been in love with you since the first trip you’d taken to Steve’s bar. 
Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas roll around. New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, and Easter come and go. The Barnes’ grand celebrations for every holiday blur together as the months fly by, until eventually, it’s June and you’re standing in your room, staring at your reflection in the full-length mirror.
The wedding dress you’d picked out a few days after Christmas is just as beautiful as you remember it being. It fits you perfectly, thanks to the impeccable work of several tailors employed by Winnifred, and your hair and makeup are flawless as well. There’s no possible way you could’ve imagined how beautiful you look and feel on your wedding day. 
Through the open window, you can hear a string quartet playing outside in the rose garden, where the ceremony is set up. Steve has already come by once to check on you at Bucky’s request, but both men are back downstairs. Bucky’s no doubt at the front of the garden with the priest—the one that you now know for certain is on your father’s payroll—and Steve is waiting with the rest of the wedding party. The only people remaining in your room are Marta, your mother, and Peggy. 
You’ve grown to love Peggy more than any of your childhood friends. She didn’t grow up in the same world as you. She didn’t even grow up in the same country, and you love her all the more for it. She’s rational, cool-headed, and kind, though she’s not afraid to stand up for what’s right. On top of all that, she’s drop-dead gorgeous. It’s easy to see why Steve fell for her during his time in the military.
The quartet finishes the song and moves onto a new one, one that you recognize after only two notes. Your stomach drops and you close your eyes, gripping your bouquet tightly. It’s the song you’d been listening to the morning you’d found out about your engagement. You’d discovered it the night before, and you’d had it on repeat before going to sleep that night, then again that morning as you’d gotten ready. You’d even listened to it in the car on the drive from your parents’ estate.
Who added this to the playlist? Is this some kind of sick joke to them?
The same feeling of dread you’d felt that morning comes back, making your mouth dry and your head spin. You try to take a slow, deep breath to calm your nerves and block out the song, but it doesn’t work.
“Y/N?” Peggy asks.
You inhale sharply at the sound of her voice so close to you. She’d been texting Steve from near the window only moments before. You hadn’t thought that anyone would realize your distress, and you’d hoped to be able to collect yourself before it was noticeable. You hadn’t even sensed her coming closer.
“Y/N, are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” you tell her, but your voice wavers and your lower lip quivers. You try to take another slow breath.
“What’s going on?” Marta asks. Her hand lands on your arm and you pull away, closing in yourself and pulling the bouquet tight against you.
Your mother’s scolding makes you feel like you’re a little kid again. “Careful, Y/N! You don’t want to ruin those flowers. We don’t have time to make another bouquet for you. George is already hounding your father about how soon after the ceremony you’ll be signing the certificate.”
Anger wells up in you at her thoughtless comment, and you open your eyes. She’s standing behind you in the main part of the bedroom, near the foot of your bed. Any guilt you might’ve felt over ruining the flowers is gone now, and you turn and chuck the bouquet at the carpet by her feet. It bounces once, then lays motionless in a heap of smashed petals and ribbons.
“Enough, Mother!” you shout.
Marta rushes to close the window so the guests in the garden won’t hear your outburst.
Your mother gapes at you, somewhat surprised, but she doesn’t budge. “Y/N, dear. What are you doing?”
“What am I doing?” you yell, stepping closer. Your dress swishes as you walk, and you normally enjoy the sound, but you’re too furious to care how pleasing it is. “What are you doing? I am your only daughter! You should be treating me like a princess and worrying about how I’m feeling and what I need, but instead you’re too busy thinking about the damn flowers! I’m sick of you thinking of me like I’m an object you can sell, steal, and trade away whenever it’s most convenient! You and Dad are so obsessed with the timeline you’ve created for yourselves that you don’t even notice how much this has affected me! You didn’t even ask if this is what I wanted!”
She scoffs at you, and any trace of motherly care and concern has disappeared from her expression. Your mother is showing her true face—the mafia wife that has almost as much blood on her own hands as her husband does, if not more.
“It’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” she asks. She picks up her clutch from the end of your bed and steps closer until you're standing eye to eye. Her voice is patronizing and infuriating, and she continues, “It’s your wedding day, dearest, and you can’t back out now. We’ve made sure of it. Even James has agreed to the contract.” 
Your anger wavers. “Contract?”
“Yes, the contract,” she repeats, smirking. Her cards are all on the table now, and she’s got a winning hand. You both know it.
There’s a malicious glint in her eye as she says, “It’s already in effect. It has been since we agreed on the marriage.”
“What contract? What are you talking about?” There’s a sinking feeling in your chest, like your heart has decided to drop into your stomach, then down to your feet and through the floor. Bucky hadn’t said anything to you about a contract, and you trusted him, but you certainly didn’t trust your parents anymore, nor did you trust George and Winnifred Barnes.
Your mother smiles, a sickeningly sweet smile that makes you want to puke. “That’s a conversation for another time. After all, it doesn’t even matter to you until James gets you pregnant.”
The alarm on your phone rings and you close your eyes, your hands trembling. You’d set that alarm to remind you when it was time to leave for the ceremony. Right on cue, the wedding planner knocks on the door to your bedroom.
“Y/N?” she calls, knocking again. “Are you ready?”
Slowly, you squat down and pick up the bouquet. It’s smashed on one side and the petals have fallen off of various flowers, but it’s mostly intact. It shakes as your hands tremble and tears well up in your eyes.
Marta appears in front of you, having pushed your mother out of the way, and over the ringing in your ears, you hear Peggy talking to the wedding planner. Somehow, you make it out to the ground floor of the estate, to the double doors that lead out to the rose garden. You’re dazed by your mother’s strange revelation. The sound of the alarm is still ringing in your ears. Peggy says something to you, but you can only stare straight ahead. 
Your father is next to you then, as Peggy disappears through the doors and joins the rest of the wedding party. You see her glancing back at you, and whispering to the rest of the groomsmen and bridesmaids. Most of them are Bucky’s friends who have now become your own, and all of them look worried. 
“Let’s go, princess,” your father says, and he pulls you forward by the arm.
Numbly, you follow his lead. Not even Bucky’s initially delighted expression shakes you out of your trance, but the way he rubs his thumb over your hands at the end of the aisle pulls you out of it just enough for you to lift your head and look around. You don’t remember walking to him, nor do you remember handing off your bouquet to Peggy, just like you’d practiced last night at the rehearsal.
“Y/N? Darling?” Bucky asks. He crouches and tilts his head slightly to try to catch your eyes. “You okay?”
“I—” Your mouth is still dry and you swallow, your eyes flitting from one place in the garden to another with no rhyme or reason. The world feels like it’s spinning and you clutch Bucky’s hands, unsure of what to do.
“Someone get her a chair,” Bucky orders, raising his voice enough that you flinch. He immediately starts murmuring reassurances to you, and he pulls you into his arms until he can lower you into a seat.
Someone fans you and a cool glass is pressed to your lips. You drink obediently, closing your eyes as the water helps the sandy feeling in your mouth abate just a little. When the water is gone, the glass is pulled away. 
“Y/N, can you hear me?” Bucky asks. 
Slowly, carefully, you nod your head. He sighs in relief and when you open your eyes, he’s kneeling down in front of you. His shoulders are tense and his forehead is creased with worry. You’ve never seen him this stressed over anything and it makes you want to cry.
“I’m sorry,” you croak, heat flaming in your cheeks. You feel horrible. Bucky has been looking forward to the ceremony—he’d told you last night at the rehearsal dinner.
“It’s okay,” he quickly replies. He reaches forward and takes your hands, and you glance away from him to peek at the guests, your parents included, who are still watching you from their seats.
“Are you ready for this, or do you need a break?” 
You look back at Bucky. “A break?”
“She’s fine,” your mother says, and you look over at her from your seat. She’s standing in the front row, her eyes fixated on the priest behind you. “They’re fine, Father. Y/N’s been a bit nervous all morning. Wedding day jitters, you know.”
“I—” You frown at her, still clutching Bucky’s hands. “That’s not what it is.” You look down at him and shake your head. “I’m not nervous to marry you.”
“I’m not nervous either,” he says with a small smile. 
“Then shall we continue?” the priest asks.
You turn to shake your head at him. “No. I’m sorry, Father. I need to talk to Bucky—James—in private for just a minute. Is that alright?”
He smiles gently and nods. “Of course.”
There are more agitated murmurs from the crowd, but you ignore them as Peggy, Steve, and Bucky help you up and back down the aisle. When your mother moves to follow you, she’s blocked by Sam and Clint, another one of Bucky’s friends. She calls after you once, but you ignore her as Peggy helps you onto a bench inside, then leaves, closing the double doors behind herself. She’s handed back your bouquet, and you clutch it with both hands like it’s an anchor in the storm.
“Is everything okay?” Bucky asks. He stands near the door, and you can tell from the way he rolls his shoulders that he’s stressed. His prosthetic always bothers him more when he’s agitated, and you suddenly feel even worse about stopping the ceremony.
“Yes,” you say, but then you shake your head. “No, I’m sorry. Obviously, it’s not, or I wouldn’t have stopped everything. I’m sorry, Bucky, but I have to ask you something.”
“Okay…” There’s a wariness in his eyes, one that you loathe yourself for. You put it there, and you wish with all your might that your mother hadn’t told you what she did. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to do this.
“Did you sign a contract? With our parents?”
He frowns and his whole body grows very still. “A contract?”
You nod. “Yes.” With your hands still fisted tightly around the bouquet, you inhale deeply and add, “A contract about getting me pregnant.”
“What?” Bucky’s furious response is immediate. He shakes his head, his eyes searching your face for any sign that you might be making this up. “Y/N, what are you talking about?”
“Did you sign a contract agreeing to marry me, and agreeing that my parents get something after you get me pregnant?” The words make you sick to your stomach. You haven’t eaten anything all day, which doesn’t help, but the thought of Bucky agreeing to something so vile… It’s enough to make anyone nauseous.
He’s shaking his head at you again. “Why the hell would I sign anything like that? Do you really think I would do that?”
You shrug a little and look down at the bouquet. “My mother…”
“Darling…” Bucky sighs and comes closer, and he kneels down in front of you again, just like he had outside. All the fight and anger has left his voice. “I would never do anything like that. Not in a million years, and especially not to you. I love you.”
“She said you signed it before they’d even told me we were engaged,” you said, quiet now that he’s so close. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, to see what his face might be telling you that his words aren’t.
“Can you look at me? Please?”
Reluctantly, you lift your eyes from the flowers in your lap to meet Bucky’s eyes. They’re just as blue as the ribbons wrapped around the flower stems, a choice you’d specifically made without the wedding planner’s guidance. You’d wanted him to be your “something blue”, even if it felt a little cheesy.
“Do you want to marry me?” Bucky asks.
You swallow the lump in your throat and nod. “Yes.”
“Do you believe me when I say I had nothing to do with that contract? That I didn’t know it existed?” he questions.
You nod again, tears forming in your eyes.
“And do you trust me to help you find a way to get rid of it, once all of this is over? Do you trust me to protect you?”
You nod for the third time, and Bucky takes both of your hands in his.
“Okay. Then let’s get married, and I swear to you that as soon as our honeymoon is over, the guys and I will start doing some digging.”
“What about me?” you ask, sniffling. You pull one of your hands away to dab at your eyes before the makeup can get too damaged by your tears.
“What about you?”
“Can I dig, too?”
Bucky chuckles and kisses your knuckles on the hand that he’s holding, and then he pulls himself up off the floor to sit beside you on the bench. He pulls you into a half-hug and you cling to him, sniffling and smiling as he rubs the your back and answers,
“You can do all the digging you want, doll. I’ll even hand you the shovel.”
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Tá sé go maith tú a fheiceáil. = It’s good to see you.
Mo bhean chéile = My wife
Íosa Críost = Jesus Christ
Thick = A stupid person
Ifreann = Hell
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Bucky Barnes: @lipstickandvibranium @valhalla-kristin @buckymcbuckbarnes
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waywardcrow · 3 months
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All eyes on us.
Summary: This wedding needs to happen, it's the only way you can protect the ones you love, the only problem is that you're in love with your husband-to-be and he would never love you back.
Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Stark!reader.
TW: Really not so many, talks of murder but very lightly, mentions of mysogyny, implications of mafia kind of stuff, death of parents, mention of future smut, curvy!reader, no mention of y/n and reader's nickname is Bells (context coming soon), kind of enemies to lovers but not really enemies, arranged marriage, this will be a +18 story so minors dni.
Disclaimer: English is not my first language, please tell me if I make grammar mistakes.
Part of the Yours to lose series.
Pictures from pinterest and graphic and dividers by the amazing @ firefly-graphics so all credits to the creators.
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Everyone was waiting for her but she kept looking at herself in the mirror.
The wedding dress was beautiful, Pepper told her it was what Maria Stark –her mother- wore in her own wedding day and she loved it, the silk was too soft, hugging her curves with an ethereal touch and it had a subtle scent that she assumed belonged to the mother she couldn't remember.
Tony swore their mother loved her, their father too, the young bride couldn’t help but doubt it, they would not love her if they could see her now about to get married to a man who didn’t love her back, a man who humiliated her once for his pride, someone who probably only wanted what this arrangement could give him back.
How would she survive this marriage when it was impossible to leave the room and get to the Cathedral?
A knock in the door pulled her out of her mind, finding Natasha smiling at her in the reflection of the mirror.
“Are you ready, dear?” her friend knew the real answer but still gave her the chance to speak.
“I was about to go” she lied and the redhead gave her a knowing look “everyone it’s waiting, isn’t it?”
“You’re the bride, honey, they can wait” Natasha walked to her, looking like a goddess in her silver dress and put her arms around the bride’s body “you can say no, we can fight Russo’s father, hell, Billy would love having one more excuse to kill him.”
She was sure Billy would do it, not only for her but for his sister, for Madani and for himself but it wasn’t time yet, the alliances needed to be settled, Stark and Barnes had to fight alongside to kill Pierce and Carlo Russo. She made all that mess before getting her family back and nobody would take them from her, never again.
“It has to be done, Nat” she put the veil in her head and took the beautiful bouquet Becca left for her earlier “let’s go.”
Her friend must have seen something in her eyes that made her nod.
“Alright, Bells. Let’s do this” her nickname, the one Yelena gave her when they met years ago, made her smile, who could ever thought that knocking someone out with Christmas bells will change her life?
Natasha guided her trough the corridors to the waiting room where Tony was talking in a hushed tone with Pepper, her sister-in-law radiant with her baby bump, reminding her why this alliance needed to happen.
“I’d be waiting outside, dear” Nat kissed her cheek and went to take her place with the other bridesmaids.
Tony was staring at her, pale like a ghost, whispering his sister's name. It wasn’t the first time in the last months Bells was told how much alike she was with his mother, their mother but this time Tony didn’t say anything, just looked at her eyes to find determination that matched his concern.
“Everything it’s beautiful, Peps, thank you” the bride said and the ginger smiled with a hint of sadness barely visible.
“It’s the least I could do for you, topolina. You deserve beautiful things” she never had a mother, not that she could remember, but with Pepper there she could feel like she did.
Pepper gave her husband a gentle squeeze in the arm and went to join the rest of the guest.
“I have Frank ready to go, say the word and we leave” his first words almost made her chuckle, he spent the last fifteen days planning ways to get her out of this but Bells always refused, a small and stupid part of her happy because she would marry the man she loved.
“I want to do this, Tony, for all of us” that part it was true, this marriage was the only way she could protect him and Pepper and the baby, Billy and Dinah, Frank and Maria and the kids, the family she dreamed about since she was a kid and that she finally had. It also would save her from Carlo Russo’s greedy hands.
Bells knew one or two things about the mob, mostly from movies and for that she was sure the respect from his brother to her choices were more part of his good soul, she heard some stories from Maria that made her want to kill Carlo Russo even more.
True to the man she met not too long ago Tony didn’t fight her, instead he straightened his bow tie and extended an arm out for her to take it.
“Then allow me to walk you down the aisle, signorina, it will be my honour” the charm went back to his eyes and Bells could breathe, if she could count on them, she could do anything.
The music started playing when the wedding planner gave the signal and every one of her friends smiled at her or blew kisses at her before marching down the aisle. From where she was she could see Maria walk with confidence, not sparing a glance to her father who unfortunately was sited next to her brother Billy and Dinah.
Natasha was the last one, looking at her with reassurance one last time before following the others, then it was their turn.
“I love you, topolina”
“Love you too, Tony”
The crowd of guest was an unfocused picture, she only had eyes for the man waiting for her at the altar, wearing a black tux with a new haircut, his long chestnut locks were gone, sending a silly wave of sorrow through her veins.
She loved his hair, in an embarrassing impulse she remembered pulling his long hair to get him to kiss her again when-
Bells stopped herself.
It was dangerous to think about those times, they were gone the minute he saw her as one of his properties and decided to punish her for something she never did.
Bucky’s eyes never left her the whole way to him, drinking her like he was dying of thirst. Steve must have noticed too because he gave him a subtle bump to get him to blink and stop looking like he would commit sacrilege in the middle of the church.
The beautiful glass windows projected a million colors around her when Tony lifted the veil and with a barely visible hesitance put her hand in Bucky’s.
“I’m confident you will protect her with your life, Barnes” was all he said, dead serious when Bucky gave him a solemn nod and her brother kissed her forehead.
With her eyes watching her step, Bells avoided looking at him until it was impossible to keep going.
A soft smile, one she thought she lost forever, resurfaced when their eyes locked and the bride could read what he was thinking.
She was his, always was and always would be and he would never let her go.
I'd do bad things with you >>>
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Hiya! I'm super happy to post this story even if I don't know what I'm doing, to be honest I'm not fluent in italian, so here's the translation of the pet names I used:
-topolina: Little mouse.
-signorina: Miss.
If I made a mistake with that, feel free to correct me and tell me what you think! What do you think it will happen?
Love, Lily.
441 notes · View notes
buckets-and-trees · 1 year
Text
SALT (Bucky x Reader)
Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: mostly-dark!mob!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: 2.8k  Summary: True achievement in the restaurant industry requires a relentless drive. No compromises. You've risen through the ranks, and when your mentor retires, you're rightly given the mantle of executive chef at Devour. On your night of ascension, the dining room is packed, and among the guests is someone equally as relentless to get what he wants.
Content Warnings: imbalanced power dynamics, bribery, workplace manipulation, NON/DUBIOUS CONSENT, explicit language, risk of being caught, food play, knife play, nipple/breast play, vaginal fingering, forced orgasm, edging, unprotected vaginal intercourse, non-graphic cream pie (not the food kind)
Additional Notes: Written for @the-slumberparty's April Mob AU challenge. Using dark prompt #23 (bolded in the dialogue).
tagging some peeps who showed interest in the preview for this little thing: @sidepartskinnyjeans @vonalyn @winterslove1917
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“You’re not serious, Stanley.”
“I am.”
You laughed and shook your head. “Sure. Whatever. I don’t have time for customer meet and greets during a normal service, let alone tonight of all nights.”
“You will do it,” Stanley insisted, “because it’s James Barnes and he’s got more money and influence than any god. He owns the mob scene in this town.”
When your maître d’ didn’t say anything more, you turned to truly look at him. 
You frowned but set down your pan with a huff. “Fine. Charlie, take over while I apparently go make an appearance.”
“Table twenty-seven,” Stanley said, handing you a clean dish towel, which you pressed against your forehead, cheeks, and neck as you headed for the door that led from kitchen to dining area, tossing the towel in the laundry bin under one of the counters. 
You pushed past the kitchen doors and walked through the dining room towards table twenty-seven, one of the handful booths and tables nestled in small alcoves that offered a little more privacy for VIP reservations, set off on a small dais with walls of green plants strategically placed to create ambience while sectioning off the area from curious eyes and a plethora of potential phone cameras. 
There were five individuals seated around the table, but he drew your attention first as you approached. He clocked your progress before any of his companions, and when he looked up, his stare fixed on you with such intensity that you took a brief pause before your next step, which he clearly noted, and the corner of his mouth ticked up in the slightest smirk. It made your blood heat with irritation, but you focused on remaining calm and professional as you stepped up to the table. 
“This was an exquisite meal, Chef,” he said, drawing the attention of his companions to you immediately.
“Thank you,” you replied. 
“Sam here hasn’t been able to shut up about it since the first course came out,” a blonde man sitting to his right said. 
“And you haven’t left even a crumb on your plate through any course, Steve,” he chided back good naturedly. 
Each of them had a girl tucked in next to them, but not the man with dark hair and steel blue eyes you still found it difficult to look away from who had to be the infamous James. His friends and their companions continued to rave for another minute or two about different parts of the meal’s courses. You expected them to be closer to the age of your parents, not much nearer yours. 
“Well, thank you again,” you finally said. “We’re pleased to have you dining at our restaurant tonight. Devour is a dream for all of us on the staff. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the kitchen to oversee final preparations for the dessert course.”
“I’m eager for what’s to come next, Chef,” he said, looking you up and down, his eyes darkening. You’d delivered the overture for your exit, but he somehow made it clear it was only with his approval that you would leave in that moment. 
Twenty minutes later, you sprinkled a touch of flaky salt over the ribbon of whiskey-laced caramel drizzled over the chocolate mousse, Charlie adorned it with a perfect rosette of the Chantilly cream, and you slid the final plate across to Stanley, who put it on the final tray and sent the waiter on his way. 
“That’s service, everyone!” you announced, and some of the staff clapped and whooped. 
You smiled, truly satisfied. Charlie bumped elbows with you, and when you turned your head to look at him, you couldn’t help the genuine smile bursting across your face. 
“Truly a triumph for you taking over,” Stanley said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“You’ve more than earned your new title as the executive chef of Devour and this kitch–“
He was cut off as there was a burst of activity at the doors coming in from the dining room. “Everyone, clear the kitchen! Out the back, please,” came a booming voice that you’d heard speak much more congenially earlier in the dining room. It was clear this man was used to giving orders and having them followed without question. 
“Excuse me,” Stanley turned to look, but on seeing who was sweeping in and ushering his staff out before him, but his tone shifted when he saw who was giving the orders – now guarded but polite, “Oh, Mr. Rogers.”
“And if I could have a word with you in particular,” Steve said, addressing Stanley and nodding towards the back. 
“Of course,” he responded.
You and Stanley exchanged a glance, and you began clearing out with the rest, but Steve put a hand on your shoulder. “Not you,” he said a little more quietly. “You stay here.”
You frowned and tilted your head as you looked up at him. He only smirked at you. 
“The rest of you, keep it moving, let’s go!”
You chewed on your bottom lip and let your hand drop to the silver surface of the counter where your fingers immediately began to drum impatiently. After a moment you turned to look over at the door to the dining room, and your breath hitched. 
He was there, leaning up against the door frame, blue eyes fixed on you. 
His face was unreadable, and so you tried to keep your face blank as well as he stalked toward you, coming around the plating area and to your side of the counter. 
“What is this, Mr. Barnes?”
“I’m buying this restaurant. Steve’s arranging everything with Stanley right now.”
Your brow furrowed.
“I own this kitchen, and I own you, Chef.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but he put two fingers to your lips. 
“I’m tripling your salary,” he said as he stepped right into your space, backing you up against the counter, only a breath of space between you. 
Your heart was racing for too many reasons – anger, incredulity, but also a thrill of arousal. You wanted to refuse him, but he also drew you in, and you could not deny that. You knew he was dangerous, you were infuriated by his audacity, and yet…
“You can’t turn down an offer like that,” he continued, “especially not after the years of hard work I know you put in for the executive chef apron in this kitchen. Our stories are not so different in that way. You earned this. You won’t walk away.” 
“I can–“
“But you won’t,” he cut over you. You glowered, but he ignored your slow burning anger and instead reached around behind your back to tug at the ties of your apron. Then his voice dropped down an octave as he spoke again, “Don’t fight me. You will give yourself to me.”
“I won’t.” You cocked your chin up.
“You will,” he insisted. He pulled the black apron away from your body and tossed it onto the counter behind you.
“You will give yourself to me now.” He pushed forward, pinning you to the counter with his pelvis. You tried to suppress a shaky exhale, feeling his erection pressing into you.  “Soon you will warm my bed,” he bent his head down to ghost a kiss at your temple, then another on your cheek, before he moved his mouth further down and murmured his next threat down the column of your throat, “and I promise it won’t be long until you will beg for me to take you apart without any coercion.”
When his tongue darted out over the sensitive spot just under your jaw, a whimper escaped from your chest before you could stop it, and you felt him smile against your skin. 
You squeezed your eyes shut. “Please, anyone could catch us.”
He chuckled. “Sam and Steve are preventing that,” he said, pulling away just enough to start unbuttoning your black chef’s jacket. “But,” he continued, “if you make too much noise, you���ll confirm that we’re doing anything more than talking.” 
Once he had finished with all the buttons, he pushed the coat open. Your eyes were still closed until you felt the cool edge of a knife on your sternum, and your eyes burst open again, fear and adrenaline rushing through your body, but luckily he wasn’t looking at your face, focused instead on your chest where his metal fingers skimmed lightly over the bared skin for just a moment before they gripped the fabric of your black camisole and bra while his other hand tore his knife down in a swift movement, splitting your undergarments down the middle, putting your chest on full display for his hungry eyes. He pushed the clothing out of the way fully only over your left shoulder. 
He lifted his gaze to meet your eyes again. “Dessert was exquisite, but it didn’t satisfy what I wanted.”
He reached for a nearby saucepan, which still had a ladle in it, and smiled as he gave it a stir. You watched as he took a scoop of the caramel sauce and poured a little over the round swell of your breast. It was warm, and started to slowly spread, but not enough to drip and make a mess. You imagined in his line of work, he knew how to be precise, not leave anything extra to clean up. He set the pan back down on the counter, and then reached for something else, returning with a pinch of the flaky salt that he then sprinkled over the caramel. 
For a moment he merely admired his handiwork. then his warm hand came up to cup the underside of your breast, and then his mouth descended to lap up the salted caramel from your tender flesh. Heat bloomed across your chest and straight to your head and your core, his ministrations eliciting a low moan from you. He hummed in approval, then took your nipple into his mouth. Your nipples were always very sensitive, and he was not careful with his attention there, sucking, nipping, and licking until you whimpered and tried to push him away. He kept mouthing painfully at your nipple another moment longer. 
He leaned back for a moment to look own at you, scrutinizing your face. You were not sure what he saw there, truthfully you didn’t know how to feel and what front to put up, but whatever he assessed didn’t deter him. 
He lifted one hand to your neck and then trailed the back of his fingers down your sternum, between your breasts, over your stomach, a light touch that wasn’t rushed, knowing he could draw a shiver of anticipation from you with the purposeful action. He unbuttoned your pants, and as he slipped his hand into your panties and cupped your mound, he leaned in close to your ear and softly said, “You earned this, too, Chef.”
His fingers sought your folds. “And you are wet for me.” You didn’t need to see his face to imagine the satisfaction that must be there – it was evident in his tone. His breath was hot on the shell of your ear. “Close like this,” he whispered, “I’ll still hear even the small pretty noises I’m going to draw from you with my fingers in your cunt.”
And even though you were expecting it – dreading it? – you gasped when he quickly thrust two fingers inside you, knuckles deep, and moved them expertly in and out of your tight heat, questing and quickly finding the sensitive spongy spot on the front of your pelvic wall. You bit your lip to keep keening as quiet as you could, and your arms gripped his biceps, looking for an anchor to reality. He played your pussy quickly, nimble and knowing fingers familiarizing themselves too easily with your body for your comfort. 
His thumb went to work expertly drawing tight circles over your clit, still thrusting his fingers inside you, and the additional stimulation forced you into an intense orgasm you didn’t want to give him, burrowing your face into his neck to smother your small cry of ecstasy. 
You didn’t want to see his face – undoubtedly haughty knowing he’s pleased you despite you wanting to refuse him the satisfaction – and in this you are spared at least for the moment as without pretense he abruptly spins you around and tugs your pants and underwear down your thighs. You heard the quick unbuckling of his belt and unzipping of his pants as he freed his hard length. You had only a second to brace yourself against the countertop as he gripped your hip with one hand and used his other to guide his tip to your thoroughly slick and ready opening. One full and quick thrust had him fully sheathed inside you, punching the air from your lungs. He leaned forward against your back, his mouth close to your ear again. “Feel me in there? Stretching you to the limit.” 
He rolled his hips ever so slightly, slowly, and your head fell back against his shoulder.
“Yes, Chef. Just like that.”
He pulled his hips back, then gave another slow and powerful drive into your cunt. “Feel as smooth and velvety around my cock as that caramel sauce was on my tongue.” While one hand remained on your hip, as he began to pick up the pace with his thrusts his other hand brushed up your spine, then moved around to grasp your breast, the one he’d overstimulated just a few minutes before. You whimpered and tried to jerk away, but you’re met with his strong chest up against your back. He chuckled and then began to tweak and roll the nipple between his fingers. 
You tried to pull his hand away, still whimpering. 
“I intend to leave you feeling me for days from this, Chef,” he growls in your ear. His thrusts become rougher, faster, slamming into you over and over again. Your hands pulled at his wrist torturing your nipple, but your strength was nothing to his, and soon tears were spilling down your cheeks. When an audible sob escaped your throat, he finally relented and released your breast, but then he gripped your hips with both hands, showing no mercy for your pussy as he chased his own pleasure. 
Without the pain, your body focused only on the pleasure mounting in your core now. This felt good. He felt good. His cock filled you exquisitely. You tried to rock your hips just slightly to where you know he’d hit that pleasurable spot in you again, but he controlled the movement and forced you to stay at the angle he wanted. 
“This one is for me, Chef, not you,” he grunted. 
Still, you pant together, lungs heaving, and you’re hurtling toward another orgasm. His hips stutter for a moment, and with a groan he releases his spend inside you, slowing his movements. 
You couldn’t hold back a needy whine as he pulled out of you. You looked over your shoulder at him incredulously, edged to the very moment before but then denied your second release. 
He paused after tucking his softening cock back into his boxer briefs and gripped your chin, demanding an abrasive kiss from your lips. “When you come apart on my cock, I want to watch your beautiful face and hear you beg for me.”
Years in the kitchen have taught you to hold back your words when there’s even a shade of uncertainty, and you are uncertain if you will give him what he wants or not, because you can’t deny that your body absolutely wants him, and part of your spirit does, too. Relentless power recognizing another like its own, and you hate that you’re more than a little intrigued. You don’t want to just give him what he wants, but a tiny sliver of you whispers that you shouldn’t cut off your nose just to spite him. 
You pulled up your pants while you heard him zip and buckle his own pants again. One he had tucked in his shirt, again with swift precision, he turned you back around to face him. He reached for your apron, wiped his hands, then set it back on the counter. He didn’t mess with your torn shirt and bra other than to adjust them well enough so he could close your chef coat and button that back up over your chest. 
He gazed right into your eyes again, brushing his thumb over your lips, parting them slightly, then pushing them closed again. 
“I’ll be back for more soon,” he finally said, then walked away without another word. 
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Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
LINK TO PART TWO: FAT
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straywords · 1 year
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In the peachy sweet universe, will chef ever call Bucky by his first name again?
It will definitely take her a while to get there, ngl.
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♡ Mob Boss! Bucky Barnes x Chef! Reader ♡
Peachy Sweet AU || Bucky
Warnings for insecurities, some tears. Fluff. Soft Bucky.
Words: ~700
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Sir.
Never has a word aggravated Bucky this much. The word that always pours from your lips whenever you refer to him.
He knows technically he is your boss...but he wants to be so much more to you. He thought the time at your parents’ house brought you closer. So many moments shared between you and him, moments he’ll cherish forever. Hopefully the first of many.
But as soon as you returned, you were back to putting distance between you and him. The mob boss keeps wondering where he went wrong. He used every opportunity to show you how he feels, that this isn’t just pretend to him. That you’re it for him.
It’s why he barges in the kitchen while you’re wrapped in your task, still wearing your whites.
Your eyes widen from behind the counter as you note his presence in the doorway, wiping your flour-covered hands with a rag.
"Sir? Did you need something? I was just putting the finishing touches on tonight’s dinner," you chime.
Your bright smile eases the scowl on his features. He takes a step forward then halts, hesitating at your innocent, cheerful expression.
He wants to preserve that, your happiness, your peace. It’s selfish, bringing you into his world.
"Nothing," the mob boss grumbles at first. But as you slant your head in question, he can’t resist, his feet carrying him towards you regardless. "Actually, there is something." You drop the rag and whirl to him, giving him your full attention.
Bucky’s brows knit as he bends over you. Your delicate scent washes over his senses, sparking the flames of his longing even more. "Did I do something...something that hurt you, doll?"
You snort, your features scrunching in confusion.
"Sir, how could you think that?"
Bucky’s frown deepens as a disgruntled groan escapes him.
"That again..."
You blink at him. "I’m sorry?"
Bucky holds your gaze. "Why can’t you just call me Bucky, doll?"
Your lip shudders as you play with the hem of your sleeves, an anxious gesture Bucky’s learnt to recognize.
"It’s just...I respect you so much, sir," you mumble, your voice even smaller than usual. "Thanks for doing what you did but a man like you..."
As your words trail off, Bucky urges you to go on with a hand under your chin. "A man like me what?" he insists, bending his head to follow your gaze when you try to avoid his.
Chin trembling, you blow out a long sigh.
"Men like you date models and actresses, sir." You pause and observe him, pursing your lips dejectedly. "I have to be realistic. I know you were just being nice."
Bucky sighs, a smile blooming on his lips. You never stop surprising him.
"Look at me," he says. As you try to peer down again, Bucky frames your jaw, his timbre growing more stern. "Doll."
His tone draws a soft gasp from you, your head lifting. Bucky’s eyes soften as he cups your cheek.
"You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on," he whispers.
He finds the way your eyes bulge infinitely endearing, but the uncertainty in your inflection saddens him.
"Why would you lie to me, sir?" you accuse.
Biting his lip, Bucky shakes his head.
"I’m not lying."
Your eyes fill with tears and he gently wipes them with his thumbs.
Once you’ve calmed down, he utters softly, "Doll, have dinner with me."
Your mouth parts in shock as your sniffle.
"What?"
Bucky’s smile expands.
"Since you don’t believe me when I tell you how beautiful you are..." His knuckles sweep the side of your face. "I’ll keep saying it until you do."
He revels in your expression, a lovely mix of befuddlement and bashfulness.
"Sir..." you mutter.
"Bucky," he corrects, pressing his finger on your mouth.
You exhale a quivering breath, going still beneath his intense scrutiny.
"Bucky," you repeat.
This simple utterance makes his heart sing.
He knows it’ll take a while for you to get comfortable enough to say his name every time...but he can wait.
Besides, he doesn’t hate you calling him 'sir' all that much.
In fact, he’s sure it’ll come in handy one day.
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No taglist. @straytales is my side blog if you want to know when I update.
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Saw these 2 posts on Twitter about Bruce Wayne dealing with a PTA mom rival who tried to sabotage his class party contribution and this absolutely seems like something Malyshka would do if one of the other mothers from Bee's school or extracurriculars tried to play in her face. Big rich energy 👑
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(also the Parent Teacher Association lowkey seems as scary as the mob but maybe that's just me 😂😂😂)
After a few run ins, she would start renting several food trucks when it's her turn and let the kids go wild. The PTA rival seethes every time.
Although she was not prepared for her experience with the PTA so things did not go as planned. Luckily for her, she has a mobster at her beck and call.
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Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Wife!Reader
AN: Part of the Bumblebee series
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Bucky stares at you, a bemused smile on his face. It's not often he's taken off guard, his composed nature is legendary. But he's never been in this situation and he's not sure what to say without setting you off.
"What happened?" He whispers to Bumblebee, her rapt eyes watching your every move. "Why is she upset?"
"Mrs. Keaton—" she starts, the sound of that woman's name has you spinning on your heel, waving a spatula at the duo.
"Mrs. Keaton is a bit—" you clamp your lips shut, forcing down the sentence before your baby adds that curse word to her vocabulary. Bee's already agreeing with everything you say and you don't need her calling Keaton a bitch to her face. "She's rude and she needs to be shown that she can't do whatever she wants and get away with it just because she's head of the PTA."
Bee leans forward on the chair, planting her elbows on the marble island and she nods. "She threw mommy's cupcakes down and laughed." Bee turns to Bucky, her brow furrowed. "I saw her Papa but she lied and say she didnt do it," she finishes with an affronted huff.
Bucky sits up, getting a better idea of why his sweet wife is eating a handful of froot loops while baking enough cupcakes to feed an army.
Or in this case, an entire school.
"She had the nerve to claim it was an accident but just happened to have her own dessert in her car. Who happens to have three dozen cookies in their truck? She did that on purpose because she can't stand it that the kids like my cupcakes more than her dry raisin cookies." You rant, adding more softened butter to the mixture, furiously whipping the spoon around it.
"She's one of our rivals?" Bucky might not understand the intricate inner workings of the PTA and he really doesn’t want to but he knows how to take down enemies.
"She is Papa. We dont wike her." Bee states, her little fist hits the counter. "She's mean, right mommy?"
"Yes," you proclaim, staring down at the third bowl, quickly going through your options.
The first batch has froot loops in the batter and you're going to place more in the icing, the second set will have a strawberry filling, you need something special for this last one.
You're torn been making a caramel stuffed cupcakes paired with ice cream and cookies or key lime ones with bright green frosting and graham cracker crumble.
You're reaching for the eggs when the sounds of furtive whispering catches your attention. Slowly peering over your shoulder, you see little Bumblebee now sitting on the counter in front of Bucky.
"We need to get a handle on this Keaton," he muses, eyes narrowing as he contemplates who he should call in for this job. "Who should we get?"
Bee mimicks his expression, cupping her chin. She loves this game. "I can ask Mr. Tato, he knows people."
Bumblebee goes to one of his meeting, just one and now her stuffed dino is an mob enforcer.
You blink twice, turning around to face the conspiring duo.
"Bucky no," you state firmly, giving him a pointed stare before gazing at Bee, your curiosity getting the better of you. "And what do you mean 'he knows people'?"
Bee shrugs, lifting her tiny hands up. "He does Mommy. He knows everything. He helps Papa with business."
Bucky laughs, a deep, rich sound that brings a smile to Bee's face. You fight to keep one from pulling at your lips, not wanting to encourage their antics. "I'll handle Keaton myself."
Bucky smiles, a familiar look in his blue eyes. "Alright Malyshka," he acquiesces with a sly drawl to his voice.
He could tell you that he's going to have one of the guys block her driveway so she'll be late tomorrow, giving you enough time to set up your desserts in peace but he likes it when your imagination runs wild. And he knows you'll get the information out of him tonight.
"Bucky I mean it."
"I know. If you come up with a better plan than ours, we'll let you handle it. But if not..." He gathers Bee into his arms, whispering something that has her giggling before returning his attention to you. "No one mess with a Barnes."
"James if anything—"
Bucky's eyes flit back to you. "I'm sorry Malyshka but I have a meeting with Mr. Tato in five minutes and he doesn't like to be kept waiting."
"We needs to go mommy," Bee agrees, waving at you as Bucky carries her out of the room. "Sees you laters."
"My husband is going to commit a crime," you groan, pinching the bride of your nose. "And my baby is going to be an accessory."
After taking a minute to debate if you should go after them, you decide to finish your cupcakes, and deal with your mobster tonight.
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sebastianstansqueen · 2 months
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Lost In The Shadows: Part Thirteen
A/N: This one is short, sorry, also have began writing my next series, my stuff about that will be up once i’m finished posting this story, hoe you like it, If you want to be Tagged, either send an ask or comment on this or click on Taglist open.
Wordcount: 1,268
Warnings: angst, Guns, Bucky being unaware, Wayne, Brock, Smut, and Kinda Dom Reader, also probably shitty smut if I forgot anything let me know please!
Masterlist // Series Masterlist // Taglist open// 
Tags:@cherryblossomsky- @babylooneytoonz - @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond- @leyannrae- @avengerlex - @pineprincess - @nik2write - @dorothea-hwldr - @rosie-posie08 - @scxrletrecsmarvel - @sebsgirl71479- @missvelvetsstuff- @hadesownhell - @casa-boiardi- @winterslove1917- @hallecarey1- @ash-craze - @barnesxstan - @unaxv - @bethexo07 - @itsmytimetoodream - @sebastians-love -@stoneyggirl2 - @ordelixx - @arunabrak
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Pairs was next, Y/n had a friend who could help them get off the radar there. So the day of arriving, both of them had to change, for a party of sorts. As Y/n and Bucky walked side by side, Bucky couldn’t help but take her in her dress that went to her thigh, it reminded him of when he bumped into her at inferno, along with her heels calling for attention as they hit the uneven cobble road. Right before walking in she stopped, sighing she looked at him.
“Bucky.”  He hummed and looked her in the eyes. “I want to warn you before we go in, there are dangerous people here, so don’t talk to anyone unless I say, so, I don’t want anything happening.” 
Bucky nodded with what she said, before walking in with her as they walked through he noticed people dancing on large platforms in the air that were designed to look like chandeliers, and lights flashed around. Y/n walked through unbothered, however Bucky couldn’t help but look around he’d never had been to an underground party. Y/n walked up a set of stairs making her way to a blond woman, whose lips pulled up when she saw her. “Y/n.” The woman greeted me.
“Yelena, I hope Natasha warned you I was coming.” Y/n said before sitting down, with Bucky not far behind. 
“Who's this?” Yelena’s eyes seemed to almost eat Bucky whole. 
Y/n wrapped a hand around his bicep protectively. “My husband.” Her overly kind smile seemed wolfish as jealousy consumed her almost wole. 
Yelena caught on to the difference, nodding. “Natasha says you wanna disappear.” Yelena begins to explain why they were actually there.
“I have a hit on my head, who wouldn’t want to disappear after that?” Y/n hisses in irritation the last few weeks had been a lot, and she just wanted a break. 
“What’s gotten you in this situation? I thought you changed how things ran in New York, and everyone feared ‘The Queen’ who did it.” Yelena almost taunted, the two’s relationship had always been a tense one. 
“Are you going to help me or not?” Y/n asked, getting ready to pull her gun out. 
Yelena held her hands up in fain defeat. “I’m not someone stupid enough to be an enemy of yours, I may not like you, but I'm no idiot.” 
“That’s why I’m glad you're in this business, now can we get this wrapped up? You never know who's around.”  Y/n looked over the edge of the balcony behind her, to make sure no one was paying too much attention to something they didn’t need to be seeing. 
“I’ll help you since you are a friend of my sisters.” Yelena nods, as she begins pulling out papers and new identifications for them. 
“Thanks Yelena.” Y/n said before both her and Bucky got out of the booth, Yelena nodded, then acted as if Y/n hadn’t been there. Y/n and Bucky back tracked their way out, she was looking over her shoulder. “We’ve gotta hurry.” 
When they were back at the hotel, Y/n sat on the edge of the bed, flipping through the passports, ID’s and other documents. Bucky spotted her as he walked out of the bathroom from showering. He could see the worry weighing her down at the moment he came up and sat next to her. “What's wrong?” He asked looking at her hands that neetend up the documents. 
“Nothing.” She sighed rolling her shoulders back, she placed the stack into the nightstand. Bucky looked down at her, asking for the truth. “I just hate this, being on the run, you should have had time to recover.”
“After tonight let’s go to my family’s island, know one knows about it but my family.” He placed his hand on her shoulder to comfort her, Y/n leaned into his touch, she leaned forward, slowly catching his lips.
Bucky followed what she did leaning himself into the kiss, her tongue begged to be let in, he allowed her access in, she slowly pushed him down onto the bed, she untucked the towel around his waist her y/e/c eyes looked at him, showing him her dominance over the situation, showing him that this was something she wanted. Her lips kissed his pelvis as her lips slowly moved up his well toned chest, as Bucky began to unzip the back of her dress, she still had on, as it was slowly removed, she was revealed to have only panties on that were quickly ripen off and thrown to the floor. Y/n slowly sheathed herself on him, she began to move slowly as pleasure took over both of them, the rough skin of his right hand moved over her body. 
Y/n began to slowly slide up and down at a torturous speed making Bucky groane out, which had Y/n’s lips pulling up in a mischievous smirk, her hand slowly slid up his chest gaining closet to his neck, begging to slowly cut off air making bucky groan again along with bucking his hips against her, making her moan out as her head lulled backwards. Bucky’s metal arm moved to slowly circle around her little bud of nerves, causing her to spassim in pleasure as she rocked faster back and forth, as her mouth kissed at anny skin it could get to. Bucky’s head soon fell against the pillow as he let out a deep grumbling groan as she felt him fill her up. She got up as if nothing had happened. “W-what the hell?” Bucky’s brows pulled together. 
“Hmm?” Y/n hummed as she began cleaning off her thighs that ached slightly. “Come here.” Bucky sounded slightly out of breath, Y/n’s brows furrowed as she padded into the room, Bucky looked as confused as she was. 
Her hands here on her bair hips as she stood wanting to know what was going on. “What?” Y/n’s head tilted, Bucky stood moving up standing right infront of her. 
Bucky kissed her, like she had before, but instead of lingering he led her to the bed, where he kneeled down in front of her and he did one small lap with his tongue across her pussy, causing Y/n’s head to lull back and letting a moan escape through her lips. “Bucky.” Y/n said his name as a praise as she pulled him closer to her begging for more now.
 Bucky began to take every ounce of Y/n he could get, as she held his head as close to her sex as she could by his hair, he lapped over and over again before he moved to sucking on her clit as air began to almost escape him. Just as he began to feel light headed, Y/n’s grip released on his head as she fell back, and her cum hit his lightly stubbled jaw, he looked up seeing her chest moved quickly up and down as the wave worked its way through her for a moment. 
Bucky couldn’t help but smile to himself in victory. So that’s how he woke Y/n up the next morning, and that’s what they did on the private jet ride to Romania. 
Y/n laid on the large bed in the master bedroom and a smile of pure bliss pulled her lips up. She was genuinely happy with Bucky, though the situation wasn’t ideal-at the moment-this had to have been the happiest she had been in soon to be six years.
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urdepressedslut · 9 months
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You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part five❞
♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader
♡ Summary: Getting to know each other better doesn’t go according to plan. Bucky has to comfort you and fix the mess he made. Will you forgive him?
♡ Warnings: self hate, mentions of parent death/family death, panic attack, heavy angst, fluff, literally sobbing i love them
Part 6
Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au
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It was almost becoming a mantra, reminding himself daily that he needed to keep things strictly professional. He just didn’t realize how hard it would be. You were so easy to be around, it was a different change of pace with you, he felt he could actually think— slow his mind down around you.
He had tried to digest the thought many times.
I could be her friend, nothing more.
Would it be unprofessional though? He tries to think how Pierce would react to that. He feels completely and utterly confused— the devil and angel on his shoulders battling constantly.
Even then, he was already a bad friend— if that. He was keeping something from you— something extreme. He had caught himself thinking of where you could be in the house— the part of him deep down wanting to tell you. He knew he should, but he knew that’s not what Pierce wanted. If anything, Bucky didn’t want to mess anything up— or he’d never see you again. The thought shouldn’t of scared him as much as it did, but he didn’t like it.
That’s where he found himself in the bathroom of his room, staring into his own eyes through the reflection. He had showered and caught himself trying to find a nice shirt amongst his clothes— immediately he stopped. He had to take a moment to take a deep breath and remind himself how ridiculous he was being.
It had been so long since he actually cared about his appearance. But as he was scanning every line and wrinkle on his face in the mirror— he knew he was doomed. Suddenly he felt insecure, and for once it wasn’t about his arm. His mind was consumed with the thought if he was good enough. While he felt overwhelmed, because he had never worried about such a thing. Well, in awhile at least.
You had kept yourself busy in the library for most of the day, and while you looked to be buried into the books— your thoughts were of him. You couldn’t ignore the giddy feeling that his words gave you— his want to get to know you better. Maybe, just maybe— he wanted to be your friend.
Just as you were about to get up and leave to seek out Bucky, you heard the sound of the library doors opening. A smile worked its way onto your face, excited to see him— though you had just seen him not that long ago.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the space, and soon revealed a handsome looking Bucky. Your mouth hung slightly open, his appearance looking sharper than usual. He was wearing his classic black shirt, and had the black leather jacket over— along with his jeans that hugged him just right in all the areas. He wasn’t dressed all that different, so why did he look so good.
You cleared your throat and broke your stare— yes he looked good. But you shouldn’t stare.
“You look great James, I wish I would’ve put something better on.” You laughed nervously, looking down at your t-shirt and shorts— along with your different colored socks.
Bucky on the other hand, thought you looked fine. He was pretty sure you could wear pretty much anything and look good in it. He also shook off your compliment, thinking you were just being sweet like you always were.
“You look fine, (Y/n).” He assured you.
Truthfully, standing here in front of you now— Bucky wants nothing more than to go back upstairs, choosing to avoid getting to know you better. He wasn’t sure why his walls were coming down so easily, but he hated it. Oh he hated it— he hated you.
“So…” You started, walking back to your seat. Bucky followed after and took his spot from the nights before. “I know this kinda takes the fun out of this but— I had a list of questions.”
Bucky shook his head but chuckled lowly, not surprised at all.
“Of course you do.” He acknowledged, and you scratched the back of your neck nervously.
“Uh— but there are rules! I made them up of course— but there aren’t many.” You rushed out, sitting crisscrossed in your seat.
Bucky exhaled annoyed, but couldn’t really argue otherwise. This was his idea. Was it to distract you from going out? Yes. But a part of him really did want to get to know you better.
“Alright, what’s the rules?” He asked, crossing his leg over the other— leaning back in his seat.
“Okay the first one— you have to answer the question that’s asked, no matter what.” You told him, watching him raise his eyebrows.
“Easy.”
You giggled, remembering how fast the conversation ended last time because he didn’t want to answer. This would be harder than he thought— but you wouldn’t call him out on it.
“Second rule— Can’t ask dumb questions.” You told him, and he chuckled again.
“That’s the second rule?” He chuckled, and you nodded your head.
“Yup.” You confirmed, “Okay— who should go first?”
You were ready to jump right into it, while Bucky was still thinking about your rules— rethinking his decision to do this.
“Why don’t you start doll, since you apparently have a list.” He spoke sarcastically, and you couldn’t stop the heat from rising to your cheeks at the nickname.
He never called you that before, and you didn’t know what to think of it.
“Um… okay yeah,” You thought about your first question, deciding to go easy on him at first, “What’s something you like to do on your free time?”
Bucky squinted his eyes, expecting a more personal question from you. He also had to think for a second— what did he like to do? He used to have hobbies at one time, but he couldn’t recall any in the moment. He felt he was a pretty boring person. There was one thing.
“I like to read sometimes.” He answered, and you smiled at that.
“Really? You don’t seem to spend a lot of time in the library for someone who likes to read.” You joked— knowing he was rather busy with his job as a bodyguard.
“Well, if I had free time— I’d probably be here.” He pointed out, slowly melting into his seat, his muscles relaxing against the couch.
“Okay your turn.” You told him.
Bucky didn’t want to admit it, but he as well had a list of questions for you. Things he was dying to know about you.
“What do you want to do in the future?” He asked, and you looked at him with furrowed brows.
“Huh?”
“What’s your dream job— like, what do you want to do for the rest of your life? Besides read.” He added at the end, making you giggle.
You thought about your answer for a moment, smiling to yourself when you came up with one.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever stay in one spot, there’s so much I want to do. But whatever happens, I wanna volunteer places. I want to help people— help them heal, cope. I just wanna do good.” You explained happily.
Bucky was not surprised by your answer by the slightest— of course you wanted to be helpful. It only made sense with your bubbly personality. He cleared his throat, fighting down a smile.
“Your turn again.”
You nodded and took a second to think of a question again, closing your eyes in thought. An idea popped into your head and you were hesitant about it. Last time you’d brought it up— he left.
“What’s your family like?” You asked anyway, keeping your voice soft in hopes he’d feel more comfortable.
Bucky tensed immediately and just glared at you for a second. His jaw clenched, and his eyes squinted at you. He was annoyed at you pestering him with this question— he’d answer every single one but this one. He’d play dirty if you were.
“My family… isn’t around anymore.” He answered quietly, his anger lacing his words.
His tone had you swallowing nervously, and deep down you regretted asking him. You didn’t mean any harm by the question, and you immediately felt bad. Your heart hurt for him, the way he didn’t have a family.
“I— James I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t o—”
You tried to apologize but got cut off.
“My turn.” He interrupted, sitting up in his seat now. His whole body tense again, his relaxed muscles no more. “Why does your Father hate you?”
He couldn’t stop himself from letting the words out, but as soon as they passed his lips— he was ashamed of himself. His face softened immediately at your face dropping, the way your fingers started to fiddle anxiously with the hem of your shirt.
You were shocked— at a loss for words. You probably deserved his anger, but you weren’t expecting such a harsh question. You felt your chest tighten, and suddenly you weren’t in denial anymore. Everything you’d ever thought— the nights you wondered if your Father really did hate you. You pushed away with a laugh, knowing he could never. But now as someone else witnessed it, and pointed it out. It ought to be true— and you felt sick.
“Um… He’s just having a h-hard time with the passing of my…” You tried to take a deep breath, feeling your throat tighter than usual. “Hard time with my mothers passing is all.”
You repeated from the first day meeting him. Your head pounded— your ears thumping loudly. Your fingers were numb and you felt like you couldn’t swallow.
Were you having an allergic reaction to something?
You tried to take another deep breath and felt your chest stop expanding. Your eyes widened in panic for a second.
Bucky felt so shitty— he couldn’t control himself for a simple question. The fact that you had answered it anyway broke his heart. He watched as your eyes darted around, in search of help. The way he could start to hear your breathing— the way you were beginning to wheeze.
“(Y/n), you ok—”
“Excuse m-me for a s-second.” You rushed out, stumbling out of your chair and towards the library doors.
Bucky was concerned for you, standing up immediately to go follow you. He was so ashamed of himself, angry that he let himself lose control like that. He had sensitive topics that just brought up a defensive side in him. The image of your face as soon as he had said the words was burned into his brain. You didn’t deserve that— you had been nothing be sweet since you two had met.
Making it up the stairs, he started down the hallway— body tensing in alert at the sight of you sitting up against the hallway wall. He rushed forward, kneeling down to your curled up form, scanning over you for injuries.
“(Y/n), what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He asked frantic, he noticed your hand clutching the area above your heart.
You shook your head, but seemed confused— and only panicked more when you couldn’t get the words out right away.
“I c-can’t breathe!” You wheezed out, your hand not clutching your chest— reaching out to grab onto Bucky.
You held onto him like he was your lifeline.
“I-I think I’m having a-an allergic reaction.” You panted, fisting Bucky’s sleeve in panic.
Bucky didn’t know it was possible for his heart to break anymore— but he swore he heard the cracking sound. He felt it drop to his stomach, his own throat tightening with emotions. You were having a panic attack— and it was because of him. You had no idea, and yet here you were still clinging onto him when he was the cause of it all. He was disgusted with himself.
“(Y/n)— you’re not having an allergic reaction. You’re having a panic attack.” He explained to you clearly, holding onto your shoulders, trying to bring you comfort.
You nodded in understanding, feeling lightheaded from lack of oxygen to the brain. Tears began to escape your eyes, you felt helpless— you felt like you were dying.
“James…” You whimpered, “I’m s-scared!”
Again, he felt his non existent heart break again— falling into his stomach. He felt sick watching this go down, wanting nothing more than for this all to be a nightmare.
He had experience with panic attacks and luckily knew what to do— he just couldn’t get over the fact that he caused it.
He grabbed your hand fisting his sleeve and put it above his heart. You lifted your flushed face, your bloodshot eyes watching your hand. You could feel the strong thump of his heartbeat, the feeling soothing against your palm.
“I want you to try and breathe with me, okay? I want you to match my heartbeat. You feel it?” He asked you softly, his voice gentle like honey.
You nodded your head, trying to focus on slowing your breathing— stop your chaotic mind from spiraling.
“In… and out— In… and out.” He started breathing, and you struggled to match him at first, but as your eyes met with his— you felt your heartbeat start to match his rhythm.
His eyes were comforting and warm. You felt safe in his hold— and you could already start to feel your everything relaxing.
“Good, just keep breathing with me. I’ve got you— you’re gonna be okay.” He assured you, rubbing your shoulders up and down soothingly.
You knew you’d be risking it, but you slowly moved forward— wrapping your arms around his bulky frame.
Bucky tensed up at first, a part of him knowing he should push you away— this wasn’t professional. But he knew he couldn’t— not after what he did. He relaxed, and wrapped his arms hesitantly around your back, hugging you tight against him. He could feel your quick heartbeat thumping competitively against his. He could feel your breath fanning his neck— as you rested your chin in the crook of his neck.
He hadn’t felt such affection in so long— he had missed how much he craved the protection— the security he felt being in someone’s arms.
Now, in Bucky’s hold— you felt at peace. You knew he’d never let anything happen to you. You still trusted him with your life.
“Doll,” You smiled weakly into his neck, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t of asked you that— I’m an asshole.”
You held onto him tighter— enjoying the embrace while you had it. You were sure it would never happen again.
“It’s okay James, I’m sorry too.” You weakly replied, your body drained of energy. “Thank you, I feel a lot better now.”
He wanted to scoff. You wanted to thank him for helping you out of a mess that he caused. You had the right to scream, punch, kick him. But he knew you’d never do that— and that’s what killed him.
He didn’t know how to respond to your thanks, and stayed silent instead. Holding onto you— never intending to let go until you did first.
“I’m tired James.” You mumbled sleepily.
“I’ve got you doll.” He whispered, easily standing with you in his arms.
He slowly and carefully carried you to your room, setting you down gently onto your bed. He was having déjà vu— memories of when he first carried you to bed that one night.
He lifted the covers, tucking you in. He watched you for a second, examining your face like you were a piece of art. His eyes danced all the way from your chin— passed your lips— to your eyes. Before he could stop himself, he was reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair out of your face. You sighed and leaned into his touch, and this time— he didn’t fight the smile down. He gazed down at you warmly, genuinely smiling for the first time in awhile.
“Stay with me.” You mumbled sleepily, just as you had wanted to that one night.
Bucky took a deep breath, staring down at you with sudden tenderness. He shook his head, ridding his mind of the thought.
“Okay.” He told you, watching you give a small smile in your sleep. Snuggling your face into the pillow.
Although both of you didn’t really get to scratch off every question of each others list— you both felt more connected after today. You just wanted someone, someone constant in your life. Bucky needed more light in his life— like you.
You both needed each other more than you realized.
🤍 taglist is officially closed for this series 🤍
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1K notes · View notes
buckrecs · 11 months
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2023 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 3
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masterlist | ✨- fav fics | status - completed
All of them are COMPLETE Series.
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1. Galavano by @ichorai
Bucky x Reader
a series that follows the hero galvano through the events of the mcu!
2. Time (D)rift by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor
Dark!Bucky x Reader Apocalypse AU
The end has come and gone as you keep waiting for your own.
3. Uncontrollable by @fictional-affairs
Bucky x Widow!Reader
The year is 1992. The Winter Soldier is under HYDRA’s control, and the Red Widow is under Dreykov’s control, but when they find out their organizations are working together to have them kill each other, they decide to make a deal.
4. The Lake House by @rustytricycle
Dark!Bucky x Dark!Reader
You decide to spend the summer before Freshman year of college with two of your girlfriends at one of their parents’ lake house. It turns out that Captain America and his two best friends are staying next door. Bucky thinks you might be his perfect girl. But are you too perfect?
5. turn a blind eye by @sergeantxrogers
Bucky x Reader
The Winter Soldier was cold. Brutal. Unflinching. A machine formulated to comply. Bucky Barnes was the sun warming your skin, your happy pill. Loving him was like bittersweet liquor, sickeningly sweet when you sip, harsh and burning when you swallow.
6. Rooftop Sessions by @forever-rogue
Bucky x Therapist!Reader
Y/N is a therapist that works with war veterans that ends up meeting a mysterious stranger who asks for her help.
7. it’s all fun and games, until you catch feelings by @prettyyoungtragedy
Bucky x Reader
You’re pining after Steve and Bucky is pining after Nat, what better way to distract yourself from those two perfect humans than to distract yourselves with each other?! Fuck buddies it is then.
8. oh my delightful heart by @prettyyoungtragedy
Sequel to it’s all fun and games
Bucky Barnes is the sweetest dumbest most adoring boyfriend any girl could ever ask for... 
9. Follow My Lead by @ciarawritesmarvel ✨
Bucky x Reader
You and your new friend Wanda are enjoying a day together at the Avengers Tower, her giving you a tour around the place when you both run into the infamous Bucky Barnes. Moments later, he’s introducing you to Sam as his girlfriend and placing a kiss on your temple and you’re not sure you’ve ever been so confused in your life.
10. The Maid of Mr. Barnes by @disasterofastory
Mob!Bucky x Reader
You get a job as Mr. Barnes's maid. You heard about the notorious gangster, but since you desperately need money and a place to live, you are not in a position to be picky.
11. Guiding Light by @wkemeup ✨
Bucky x Avenger!Reader
It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra. While you struggle to stay alive and hold your sanity, Bucky begins to lose himself to a darkness and gives into the soldier because he doesn’t know how to breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can.
12. Home | Better by @softlyspector ✨
Bucky x Reader Modern AU
Bucky comes home from his second tour overseas, after a long time away from the reader.
13. Mad For You by @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend
Bucky x Reader Modern AU
Nat hosts a costume masquerade. Bucky meets the Alice to his Hatter. Shenanigans ensue. 
14. Sanguis Sanguinis Mei by @captainscanadian
Vampire!Bucky x Vampire!Reader
It took Bucky Barnes two centuries with the blood of his blood to realize how much he loved her. This is their story. 
15. Another World by @sinner-as-saint
Alien!Bucky x Reader
In a futuristic world - a millennium from now, you and your team rescue and care for stranded and hurt otherworldly beings; who are held captive and kept on Earth against their wills. You save them from the bad guys who exploit them. You help them adjust to your planet’s life, and give them their freedom back. Then one day, while on a rescue mission, you come across a human-like extraterrestrial being; in a cryogenic chamber, with a missing arm. And nothing is ever the same again…
16. Picking Up The Pieces by @gogolucky13
Bucky x Reader Modern AU
Bucky chooses to stay in his tumultuous relationship knowing you’ll be there to pick up the pieces, until finally you’re not.
17. Knight In Rusty Armor by @revengingbarnes ✨
Knight!Alpha!Bucky x Queen!Omega!Reader
For the sake of politics and to get rid of you, their omega daughter, the King and Queen of England marry you off to the King of France. Settling into an unfamiliar monarchy is a tedious process all by itself, but a new problem arises soon after your arrival at your new home. One of the Knights turns out to be your true mate. Your Alpha. The one you are meant to be with. But you’re mated to someone else. And that someone else is the King of France.
18. The Escaped Bride by @marvelouslytrekking
Pirate!Bucky x Reader
Being forced to marry someone was not something you wanted, but when it turns out that it is to your best friend, who you secretly loved, things weren’t so bad. Unfortunately, good things don’t seem to last and when the worst happens, you refuse to sit around and be miserable. Will you find true love again, or will your life be turned upside down?
19. Plot Twist by @winterarmyy
Mafia!Bucky x Reader
An arranged marriage with mafia!bucky.
20. The Road Goes Ever On and On by @rocketrhap3000 ✨
Bucky x Single Mom!Reader
Life as a single mother of a three year old certainly has its struggles. But when a sweet stranger makes his way into you and your little boy’s life, a one of a kind connection sparks.
21. you’re my desire by @marvelouslizzie & @notafunkiller
40s!Bucky x Reader
Your best friend drags you out on a double date. You were supposed to be Steve Rogers’ date but plans change pretty quickly and you end up in Bucky Barnes’ arms.
22. Death Do Us Part by @sgtjbuccky ✨
God Of Death!Bucky x Mortal!Reader
For centuries, the God of Death had known two things about mortals. One, they were his job, his to collect when their days came to an end, and two, they were obnoxiously odd beings. Their purpose ceased to make sense to him. Never did he understand why they created a life for themselves, why they loved, why they loved other mortals when they knew that none of it would last forever. It was nothing but sheer stupidity, but that was until he met you. A mortal unlike any other. A mortal that would make him question everything. A mortal that would teach the God of Death how to live.
23. Lost In Each Other by @majestyeverlasting ✨
Dad!Bucky x Mom!Reader
For Bucky, one of the best things to come home to is family. Especially after a day at work. So he's pleasantly surprised when you want to show him a new dress after dinner one night. And it just so happens that little Eden and Jamie find a way to work themselves into the equation. But it all makes for good fun and memories you will never forget.
24. Fight For Me by @littleseasiren
Bucky x Reader
After years in an abusive relationship, you finally get out. When the Avengers decide to raise awareness for your Battered Women's Home, you bump into Bucky Barnes, the hottest, most complicated man you've ever met. He thinks you're too good for him, but when your abusive ex reappears, Bucky knows he has to keep you safe - by any means necessary.
25. call me baby by @cherryrogers ✨
Biker!Bucky x Reader
Returning to Brooklyn for the summer after a year of travelling from city to city, you hadn’t expected to find your best friend, Peggy Carter, hopelessly in love with a biker, and when she decided to introduce you to the rest of his club, you hadn’t expected to fall for one either — that was until you met one with pretty eyes and a habit of calling you baby.
26. Static Verse by @theconstantsidekick ✨
Bucky x Enhanced!Reader
Tony Stark's sister's a fucking badass, codename—Static. Here's her story through the MCU.
27. Bygone by @borntobewondering
Bucky x Reader
You and Peter get sent back in time, and you fall in love with someone unexpected.
28. Clockwork by @aries-writingblog ✨
Bucky x Reader
Bucky has moved on. He’s found a place in the new world of the 21st Century. Found peace. But the past is always half a step behind him, waiting to snatch him backwards- like clockwork.
29. Deny the truth, set the world on fire by @lizatill
Bucky x Reader, Dark!Winter Soldier x Reader
He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember.
30. Carnations by @viollettes
Bucky x Reader College AU
It’s a simple concept: Students can buy flowers for each other at the carnation sale. Red flowers are for love, pink flowers are for friendship, and white flowers are for expressing secret admiration. A carnation fundraiser, an iota of possibility, and a longtime secret crush on your hot best friend - what could go wrong?
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All The Lies || B. Barnes - Part 3
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Character: mob!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Y/N, haunted by guilt and betrayal, visits her ailing father, who reveals Bucky's apology and love despite their tragic past.
Warning: Angst, heartbreak.
Part 1: Echoes Of Revenge
Part 2: Shattered Echoes
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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Six months. 182 excruciating days since Bucky's eyes, dull and defeated, had mirrored the desolation gnawing at Y/N's soul. His words, "heartless woman," still echoed through the corridors of her mind, a spectral curse that clung to every breath she took.
She told herself it was righteous anger, the echo of justified revenge, but the bitter and jagged truth was that she saw a defeated man, broken at her feet every time she closed her eyes.
Then came the call, her mother's voice, tinged with worry, shattering the fragile normalcy she'd pieced together. "He's sick," she whispered, "your father." Y/N knew, even before the words left her mother's lips, that it was an act of defiance, a silent plea for reconciliation forged in the crucible of illness.
A deep and guttural sigh ripped through her, a mirror to the chasm between her and her father. His disapproval, a boulder thrown at her heart for her unconventional methods of vengeance, had created a distance so vast it felt like galaxies separated them.
Packing was a desperate attempt to outrun the ghosts that haunted her. Once a canvas of shared dreams, the city now felt like a labyrinth of memories.
Every corner whispered of Bucky, his laughter echoing in bustling cafes, his touch lingering in the rustling of leaves in the park where they'd first kissed. Did he still walk these streets? Was he haunted by her, too, by the love she'd poisoned with her vengeance?
The hospital, sterile and reeking of disinfectant, felt like a tomb. Her mother's embrace, warm but brittle, couldn't dispel the ice clinging to Y/N's heart. "Go see him," her mother's voice cracked.
As the door slid open, revealing the sterile white room, Y/N's breath caught in her throat. There, on the bed, lay her father, pale and frail, the years etched into his face like a cruel map of her absence.
The tears, long held at bay, finally broke free, flooding the sterile room with the bitter tide of regret. She knelt beside the bed, her hand reaching for his, a desperate plea for forgiveness, for a chance to mend what she'd broken. She has disappointed her parents and destroyed Bucky.
"Forgive me. You did all of this because of me." Her father's words hung heavy in the sterile air, each syllable a shard of guilt wedging itself into Y/N's already wounded heart.
"Dad," she choked out, the word a flimsy dam against the tide of emotions threatening to engulf her. "It doesn't matter. We won."
Her father's voice, raspy with illness and regret, shifted the conversation. "That boy came here."
"Who?" Y/N's breath caught, a flicker of hope battling the embers of fear.
"Bucky."
The name now felt like ash in her mouth. "Why?"
"He… he apologized," her father said, his voice cracking. "For his father."
Y/N's heart clenched. Bucky, carrying the weight of his father's cruelty, the man she'd betrayed and used his trust, had chosen to apologize instead of blaming her.
"When I saw his eyes," her father said, his grip tightening on her hand, "I knew he was different. And he told me… he loves you. But he knew you both couldn't be together. He didn't want to burden you with the past."
"He was different," her father continued, his voice a weary echo. "From the last time I saw him. Fifteen years, can you believe it?"
"You know him?" she asked, her voice a mere tremor in the silence.
Her father nodded, a bittersweet smile twisting his lips. "The reason I stayed friends with Nicholas is because of Bucky."
"Why?" she whispered, the question a desperate plea for understanding.
Her father sighed, the sound heavy with a lifetime of unspoken words. "Nicholas is a businessman," he rasped, "cold, ruthless. Not fit to be a father. I met Bucky when I visited their home. Skinny, malnourished, haunted by his father's cruelty. I went there a few times, just to check on him, to make sure he was okay."
He continued "He's a good man."
He pulled her close, his embrace a fragile offering of comfort. "You're my precious daughter," he murmured, his voice trembling. "I don't want you haunted by the ghosts of this. You deserve to find happiness, to build a life free from the shackles of the past."
Y/N clung to her father, the tears she'd held back for so long finally spilling over. Each drop felt like a release, a purging of the guilt and anger that had poisoned her for years.
But the weight of his words, "you deserve to find happiness," echoed through her like a mournful wail. Could happiness truly exist without Bucky? Could she ever truly escape the ghosts of their shared past?
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The city lights bled into the night sky, painting the air with a luminescent haze. Y/N walked, a solitary figure navigating the urban jungle, her thoughts tangled with the echo of her father's words.
The weight of his love and his pain, the burden of his betrayal and Bucky's apology, all pressed down on her, a storm brewing within.
Driven by a subconscious desire, or perhaps a cruel twist of fate, her feet led her to the pulsating heart of the city – Club Onyx, Bucky's domain.
The bass throbbed like a heartbeat, the air thick with sweat and expensive perfume. Inside, the dance floor was a kaleidoscope of bodies, lost in the rhythm, their worries and woes melting away in the strobe-lit frenzy.
But for Y/N, the music was a cacophony, the laughter a mocking echo. She perched at the bar, nursing a drink that tasted of ashes. Her unseeing gaze flickered across the crowd, searching for a ghost, a silhouette that wouldn't be there.
Even if she did find him, what would she say?
A tap on her shoulder startled her. Turning, she met the familiar eyes of Steve, Bucky's friend, a witness to their love story and its tragic demise. "Y/N?" his voice was hesitant, unsure.
She managed a weak smile. "Steve."
He slid onto the stool beside her, his gaze holding a quiet understanding. "Are you here to drown your sorrows or find him?"
Y/N shrugged, the gesture mirroring the storm raging within. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "Maybe both."
Steve sighed, a deep rumble that mirrored the bass thumping through the club. "I don't know what happened between you two," he confessed, his eyes filled with a flicker of pain. "For a year, Bucky searched for you like a man possessed. Then one day, he just… left. Came back a shell of his former self."
His words cut through her like a knife, twisting the wound she'd tried to bury. The guilt, a venomous serpent, coiled tighter in her stomach. Bucky had searched for her, even after she'd pushed him away and declared him the enemy.
And what had she done in return? Abandoned him, condemned him to a life of shadows. The guilt gnawed at Y/N's insides, a relentless worm feasting on her fragile peace.
"He just kept saying 'not meant to be,'" Steve revealed, his voice heavy with concern. "Since then, the laughter died in him. Sleep became a stranger, replaced by endless work."
"As his longtime friend," Steve's voice reached through the fog of her guilt, "can I ask you to see him, just talk?"
Y/N nodded, the weight of responsibility settling on her shoulders like a leaden cloak. "I'll talk to him," she rasped, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.
Steve's eyes, weary yet hopeful, held a silent plea. "Thank you, Y/N," he said, glancing at his watch. "Bucky should be back in half an hour. He had a quick inspection at another branch. Can you wait? The drinks are on me."
Y/N raised her glass, a wan smile twisting her lips. "One is enough," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need a clear head for this."
Steve ascended to the top floor, leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts and the pulsating rhythm of the club.
**********
Ten minutes stretched into an eternity, each tick of the clock echoing the drumbeat of her growing anxiety. What would she say? How could she mend the chasm she'd carved between them?
Seeking solace in the cool anonymity of the restroom, Y/N found herself caught in a line of impatient patrons. The air, thick with perfume and the cloying scent of cheap liquor, pressed down on her like a physical weight.
Suddenly, a sharp prick on her neck sent a jolt of pain through her. The world tilted, blurred around the edges, and then, darkness claimed her.
Steve, returning to check on Y/N and inform her of Bucky's imminent arrival, found a scene of unsettling confusion. A staff member, his face etched with concern, was helping Y/N stand upright.
"What happened to her?" Steve's voice cracked with alarm.
The staff member, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and uncertainty, stammered, "I think she's... drunk."
"Bring her upstairs," Steve barked, a tremor of unease lacing his voice despite the staff member's assurances about Y/N being just drunk. But one glass? His gut screamed otherwise.
Just as Steve turned to follow, the music surged, a deliberate shift in tempo that whipped the unsuspecting club patrons onto the dance floor, creating a human wall between him and the stairs.
Cursing under his breath, Steve fought through the crowd, his eyes scanning every face for a sign of Y/N, his heart thundering a frantic tattoo against his ribs.
******
Meanwhile, Bucky, adrenaline pumping through his veins, leaped out of the car, his heart a frantic drum solo against his ribs. Steve's message, "Y/N's at the club. Waiting for you," buzzed in his ears, a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness.
He strode into the club, his eyes scanning the throng, searching for any flicker of Y/N's familiar silhouette. Then, he spotted Steve, his friend's face etched with a panic that mirrored his own.
"Steve?" Bucky's voice, raw and desperate, cut through the cacophony.
Steve whirled around, his relief morphing into horror in an instant. "Bucky, Y/N is missing," he gasped, rushing towards him and spilling the disjointed story.
Y/N's single drink, the suspicious staff member, the sudden disappearance - it all painted a chilling picture of abduction, a reality too horrifying to contemplate.
The ground beneath Bucky's feet felt like it crumbled. He'd lost Y/N once, for a year that had felt like an eternity. The thought of losing her again, this time forever, was a blow that shattered his already fractured world.
Without a word, he bolted out of the club, the pulsing music a grim counterpoint to the frantic beat of his heart. The city lights, once a familiar comfort, now blurred past him, each neon sign a mocking reminder of the darkness that had snatched his light away.
His mind, a whirlwind of fear and desperate determination, raced through possibilities, each one a fragile thread in a web of uncertainty. He had to find her. He couldn't lose her again. Not this time.
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The world spun, a hazy kaleidoscope of blurred lights and distorted sounds. Y/N groaned, her head throbbing like a captured bird against its cage.
Darkness, cold and clammy, wrapped around her, broken only by the dim luminescence of a distant bulb. A taste of metallic fear clung to her tongue, the echo of an impact she couldn't quite recall.
Her breath hitched as movement pricked the edges of her awareness. Footsteps, heavy and deliberate, crept closer, their rhythm an ominous drumbeat against the silence. Then, a figure materialized from the shadows, settling into the creaking chair opposite her.
More than a year had passed, but the passage of time hadn't softened the venomous edge to Ivan's features. Gone was the polished veneer of the Goldenlix capital, replaced by a scraggly beard and hair that hung like curtains around his gaunt face. His clothes, once impeccably tailored, now hung loose and threadbare, a testament to his fall from grace.
"You made me bankrupt, Y/N," he hissed, his voice a twisted mockery of its former smoothness. A cruel smirk twisted his lips, but the fire in his eyes lacked its usual spark, replaced by a simmering hatred that sent chills down her spine.
"And now," he continued, his fingers brushing against her chin with the caress of a serpent, "I need your Midas touch to make me rich again."
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Author Note:
Hey friends,
If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!
Here's the link: Ko-fi
Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!
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thefallennightmare · 1 year
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Arranged-one
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Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death.
Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.
Authors Note: here we go! This is my first time at a mob boss au so let's hope you all like it! Tags for this will be open, just shoot me a message or comment if you're interested!
Arranged Masterlist
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I sighed while looking up at the large mansion in front of me, bags placed neatly behind me. The driver gave me a curt nod and with a smile of thanks, I saw him on his way before looking back at the mansion; my new home. 
Anger radiated throughout my insides when I thought of the reason why I was in this mess in the first place. 
My parents. I loved them to death, they would do anything for me and I for them. 
I was to be married off and not to any regular man. In a week's time, I was going to be married to New York’s highest feared mob boss. Confusion filled me at first when I couldn’t quite understand why they thought this was a great idea but deep down I knew why they did it. They wanted the best for me, to be set up for the rest of my life and not have to worry about anything. Which is exactly why they set up this arrangement. 
With a soft sigh, I ascended the staircase up to the front door and softly knocked, the nerves attacking me. I bounced on the soles of my heels as I waited. 
The door opened, revealing a small, older lady who had a confused expression. “Can I help you?” 
I nodded. “Uh, hi. My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I believe Mr.-.”
Her eyes lit up while furiously nodding. “Yes, come in.”
With a smile, I went to drag my bags inside but she waved me off. “Don’t you worry about that. I’ll have someone grab that and bring it to your room.” 
She motioned for me to follow her inside and that’s when I took in my new home. A large grand staircase twisted and turned upstairs, and one hallway to my right and another towards the left. 
“I’m Barb. I’m here for whatever you need,” the older lady smiled. 
My own matched hers. “Thank you, Barb.” 
“So,” she motioned to the hallway on my left. “If you go down that hallway you’ll find the rest of the house; kitchen, living area, gym, a couple bathrooms, and the laundry room.” 
She then pointed to the hallway on my right. “Down here is an empty room that’s been used for storage and his office. He doesn’t like to be bothered unless it’s an emergency. A good rule to live by: Door open means come in, door cracked means ask, door closed means turn your back and walk away.” 
I quirked a brow. “You know from experience?” 
“I’ve been taking care of this house and him for the last 10 years. A little piece of advice?” 
When I nodded, Barb continued. “He may come off as an asshole sometimes but he really is a sweet loving man.” 
Her words warmed my heart. I had heard rumors about him, everyone has. They weren’t positive ones either. There was a reason why he was the worst feared mob boss of New York. 
“Upstairs is where the bedrooms are,” She motioned for me to follow, which I did. 
Once we reached the top of the stairs she nodded towards two closed doors. “The door on the left is the master bedroom and that one across the hall is yours.” 
“Wait, we’re not sharing a room?” I questioned. 
Barb shook her head. “He doesn’t want to pressure you. He already knows that you weren’t too fond of this arrangement so he wanted you to have your own space  until you’re ready to stay with him.” 
I could only nod, not sure what to say exactly, so Barb opened my bedroom door allowing me to step inside. 
The room wasn’t anything special, I mean it was the size of my old apartment so the extra space was nice and the bathroom was breathtaking with the large tub facing the large open fields behind the home. But what caught my attention was the large bouquet of roses on the bedside table and a gorgeous floor length black dress lay on the edge of the bed with a note. 
Dinner tonight. I’ll meet you at the bottom of the stairs at seven. 
B.B.
“Where is he anyway?” I asked Barb while shedding off my coat, letting it drop onto my bed. 
“In a meeting but should be finishing up soon. Feel free to have a look around and make yourself at home. Just make sure to check his-.” 
“Check his door before entering,” I finished Barb’s sentence with a smile. 
Barb waved goodbye, letting me be by myself to settle in. However, just as I was about to call after her for my bags, a large blonde walked into my room and placed all of my things in the doorway. 
I knew in the way that the muscles in his back and arms flexed that carrying all of my things didn’t bother him. He stood tall before a smile peaked out from underneath his beard and he slicked back his long blonde hair out of his face. He was dressed in a light blue dress shirt and dark dress pants, the shirt bringing out the blueness of his eyes. 
He definitely had to work for him. 
“That should be everything.” 
I nodded at him. “Yeah, thank you, uh-.”
“Steve Rogers. But you can call me Steve,” he extended his hands. 
Hesitantly I placed my own in his and with his size, I was shocked at how soft his grip was; almost as if he was afraid. Our hands lingered together for a few more beats before he dropped his hand away and stuffed them into the pockets of his pants. 
“Do you need anything?” Steve asked. 
“I think I’m good, thank you.” I gave him a smile. 
“Of course but if you do, let me know. I’ve been assigned to you.” 
I squinted my eyes at him. “Assigned?” 
“Your bodyguard. You’re not allowed to go anywhere without me,” Steve informed.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I cursed, suddenly feeling the anger that was dormant since before I walked into this house. 
“I don’t need a babysitter.” 
Steve hesitantly nodded. “I understand but he insists.”
Not saying another word, I pushed past Steve and sprinted down the stairs towards the office, not caring to look to see what his door was like. I may have agreed to this marriage, reluctantly, but I did not agree to have a babysitter and be followed around everywhere I went. I needed to have some rules in this arrangement. 
Thankfully the door to his office was cracked but I didn’t bother to ask if I could come in. 
“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” I seethed as I entered. 
He was in the middle of sitting on his green velvet couch and crossed his leg over his other knee. Even underneath his smirk, I knew he was upset about my barging in. I was so angry about this that I didn’t even notice how breathtaking he looked under the faint light that emanated from the lamps next to his couch. But then once the anger dissipated slightly, my gaze fell onto his left arm as he ran a hand over the stubble on his chin and an audible gasp fell through my lips when I realized that the biggest rumor about him was true. The light brushed off the metal, his fingers poking out of the sweater he was wearing.
“Sit,” he pointed to the chair across from him. 
I stood my ground while crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t need a fucking baby sitter, Barnes.” 
“Call me Bucky.” 
I wanted to wipe the smug smirk off of his face. 
“I can take care of myself,” I stated flatly. 
“I’m sure you can but given my reputation, I think it’s best. Steve’s one of my best men, he’s worked for me since the beginning. I trust him.” 
My soon to be husband leaned back into his couch, resting the different arm across the back of it. If he noticed me staring, he made no comment about it, only nodded to the chair across from him once again. 
I ignored him, yet again. 
“Next time you make a decision about me or how I’m going to live around here, run it by me first alright?” I suggested. 
Bucky’s eyes turned dark. “You do know who you’re talking to, right?” 
I scoffed. “I don’t give a fuck who you are, James Buchanan Barnes. The only reason why I’m here is because of my parents and their wishes.” 
We were interrupted by a knock to the door, a group of men clutching briefcases close to them. 
“I thought our meeting was scheduled for four,” one of them said. 
These men screamed ‘sketchy’ and knew whatever kind of meeting they were about to have was going to be one that I shouldn’t be around for. 
Bucky nodded. “We were just finishing up here.” 
He then turned his attention towards me. “We can finish this discussion during dinner.” 
“Consider this conversation over,” I muttered while storming out of the room, letting the door slam behind me.
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