#mob boss!bucky
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The Eye of the Hurricane [17] - Disagreements
A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️
Summary: Petty fights can start out of nowhere.
Word Count: 2800
Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Violence, stabbing, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.
Series Masterlist
Waking up and not finding Bucky in bed next to you wasn’t unfamiliar to you.
He always woke up before you, but this was the first time you were hearing a second, very familiar voice booming through the house and you sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes.
What on earth was your father doing in your apartment this early on in the morning?
You pushed the covers off of you and looked around the room for Alpine but she wasn’t there either. Grabbing the first thing you found -which turned out to be one of Bucky’s crisp white button up shirts- you pulled it over your tank top and shorts, then went downstairs, following the voices.
“If this has been your plan all along,” your father’s stern voice reached your ear from Bucky’s office, “I swear to God—”
“I don’t have any plans,” Bucky’s much calmer voice replied and you pulled your brows together, approaching the doorframe but still shielding yourself from their gaze. Alpine meowed when she saw you, running to you but neither of them seemed to notice it.
“No?” your father asked. “So this is not some sort of elaborate plot to take over my territory?”
“Not at all.”
“Then why was she having a briefing with Rogers?”
“Because I don’t think my wife should be kept out of the business entirely,” Bucky said as you bent down to scratch at Alpine’s head before straightening your back again. “It’s the new generation, we do things differently now.”
Your father let out a furious breath.
“Listen,” he said. “I don’t care what you do with your own business, but if you’re putting ideas into my daughter’s head—”
“Arthur, she’s smart as fuck, you do realize that?” Bucky snapped, making you smirk. “There’s no idea I can put into her head that she hasn’t thought about to begin with.”
“Not to mention,” you said and stepped into the office, making both of them turn to look at you. “She has a phone. So if you wanted to see me, you could just let me know.”
Your father gritted his teeth and stole a look at Bucky. “Give us a minute.”
If it were anyone else, you were sure they would be hurrying off to the door because you had seen your father intimidate countless men throughout your life, but Bucky didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest as he leaned back to his desk.
“This is my house,” he replied, making your father blink a couple of times.
“And I’d like a moment alone with my daughter.”
Bucky turned to look at you as if silently asking if you wanted him to leave and you shook your head, then crossed your arms.
“Anything you want to say, you can say it in front of my husband,” you told him, making Bucky grin proudly. “So?”
Your father’s glare at you was enough to make the sudden chill of nervousness shoot through you, but you didn’t let it show on your face as he shook his head.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Nothing,” you said. “I literally woke up to you guys’ yelling to be honest—”
“Having a meeting with Rogers,” he cut you off impatiently as if he didn’t have the time for your jokes. “What is that about?”
You let a smirk pull your lips.
“Did Ian come and cry to you about it?” you asked. “Honestly.”
“He did let me know, yes,” he said. “As he was supposed to. Seeing that you weren’t planning on telling me about it, I’m glad he did.”
“You have your messenger boy there already,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “It’s clear you don’t need me to tell you anything.”
He took a deep breath like he was trying his hardest to stay calm and you stole a look at Bucky who gave you an assuring smile, watching you two.
“Sweetheart,” he said, the slight condescending tone in his voice making you clench your jaw. “I know that you want to be a part of the business, and Bucky is for some reason fueling this nonsense, but—”
“He’s not fueling anything,” you growled. “I happen to have my own mind, unlike what you seem to think.”
“Y/N—”
“I mean who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”
“Okay!” Bucky cut you two off before your father could answer. “Can I suggest we all calm down before anyone says anything they might regret?”
Both you and your father looked at him before turning to glare at each other again and your father pursed his lips, heaving a sigh.
“I’m not trying to patronize you,” he said and you raised your brows.
“Might be too late for that.”
“But I need you to be safe,” he said, making Bucky frown for the first time. “And becoming a part of the business…”
“To repeat, I can make my own decisions.”
“I’m not putting her in danger, Arthur,” Bucky said, his voice calm despite the stern expression on his face. “You know I would never.”
“Right,” your father scoffed and gave you a warning look. “Y/N, I mean it. What you’re trying to do—”
“What makes you think I’m trying to do anything?”
“Because I wrote the playbook you’re following,” your father replied. “I taught you every single trick, and now you’re going to turn around and treat me like I’m clueless?”
You clicked your tongue, tilting your head.
“I’m not doing anything that you haven’t been doing with me for years now,” you said. “You pushed me out of the picture, you’ve been treating me with kid gloves and you have the audacity to give me that speech right now?”
He ran a hand over his face.
“I’m only doing what your mother would like, for you.”
You let out a breath, crossing your arms over your chest.
“No,” you said. “You’re doing what you would like, for me. And I’m done letting you.”
You could see a muscle in his jaw ticking as he glared at you for a couple of seconds, then took a deep breath.
“We will talk later when you’re calmer,” he said and stormed out of the office before you heard the front door slam. You rolled your eyes and turned to Bucky who gave you a tight-lipped smile.
“Good morning,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“Are you?” you asked back and Bucky waved a hand in the air.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Hungry though. Breakfast?”
You huffed out a laugh and nodded your head.
“Yes please,” you said. “Jesus, what a morning.”
*
It wasn’t that you kept the fact that you were meeting Ethan this afternoon a secret, it was just that you didn’t think Bucky needed to know about it. This marriage was fake yes, and it wasn’t like you were having a secret affair meeting, you two were just friends and it was a normal gather up with your friend.
Or at least, that’s what you had been trying to convince yourself of the whole morning.
You drummed your fingernails on the table and reached out to grab your cup to take a sip of your latte, but lowered it when the wind bells by the door chimed and your gaze fell on Ethan. He looked around the café, then gave you a small smile and approached you as you stood up.
“Hey,” he said, giving you a curt hug and you smiled as he pulled back, then sat down again.
“Hi,” you said. “It’s good to see you.”
“Good to see you two,” he said as he sat down and ordered a coffee. “How have you been?”
“Good,” you said. “You?”
“Busy a bit. You look—” he paused for a moment when his eyes fell upon your wedding ring. “Married.”
You let out a nervous laugh and heaved a sigh.
“Mm hm.”
He pursed his lips together and took a deep breath.
“I owe you an apology,” he said, making you shake your head.
“Ethan…”
“I do,” he said. “I’m—It was stupid to say all that shit. Trust me, I wanted to text and apologize so many times, I just didn’t think you wanted to hear my voice.”
You rolled your eyes at him in a lighthearted manner.
“Ethan, you happen to be the only person in my life who’s not…” you trailed off and he gave you a small smile.
“Who’s not following the same career path?”
You clicked your tongue. “That’s one way to put it,” you said, making him chuckle. “So yeah, I reacted badly as well. I was very tense when we had that conversation.”
He offered his hand. “Truce then?”
You scoffed a laugh, then reached out to shake his hand.
“Everyone knows I’m a big fan of truce,” you said and he grinned, then thanked the waitress when she brought his coffee.
“So,” he said after taking a sip of his coffee. “How is it then? Do guns go off when you and Barnes enter the building or…?”
You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “Ethan.”
“Do you guys do that Mr. and Mrs. Smith shit?”
“Wrong movie reference.”
He held up his hands, gesturing surrender.
“Does he still dislike me?”
The correct and honest answer would be that Bucky didn’t even think about Ethan, at least in your opinion. Not only did he have bigger problems what with HYDRA and their attacks in the city, his dynamic with the other bosses were bound to get tense with you officially becoming a part of the business.
So, he was probably too busy to sit around and think about Ethan.
“Nah I don’t think so,” you managed to say, leaning back. “That night at the club, I know he was an asshole but we were…things were weird between us then.”
“I’d say so,” he said, and licked his lips. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” you said. “As long as I can answer it hypothetically, that is.”
“Is it real?”
That managed to make you pull back slightly and you blinked a couple of times before heaving a sigh.
“I don’t understand what you—”
“Because I’d like to think that we had something, back at college,” he said, making your brows furrow. “And that night at the club, you weren’t looking at him like…I could’ve sworn you hated him, Y/N.”
“Like I said, things were weird between us then,” you muttered, turning the coffee cup in this saucer and he shook his head.
“And it changed that fast?” he asked. “Listen, I’m going to shut up if you don’t want me to talk about this, but if it’s not real—”
“If it’s not real, you’ll save me?” you asked with a scoff. “I’m not some princess in a castle Ethan.”
“Trust me, I’m well aware.”
“Hypothetically, even if it weren’t—”
“Hypothetically,” he cut you off. “I’d happily wait for your divorce.”
That made you stop talking as your eyes snapped up to his and you gawked at him in a dumbfounded silence.
Ah.
Alright, this was…
The idea was quite lovely, to be honest. As you had told Becca, being with Ethan would be so simple, he was a civilian so there would be no ulterior motives or plotting or any of the tension you knew each and every couple in business had. Not only that, but Bucky had broken your heart so terribly all those years ago and you were sure that if you decided to see or treat this marriage like a real marriage, he would do it again.
Unlike Ethan.
Dear God, it would be so peaceful.
But you knew you couldn’t deal with whatever this was when you were going for your father’s crown. This right here was a distraction, and you couldn’t entertain the idea of a distraction.
You clicked your tongue and sat up straighter, checking the time.
“Sorry, I just remembered I had this thing,” you muttered, desperate to get away and he stood up as you did.
“Y/N,” he said apologetically. “I’m sorry if that sounded—”
“No no,” you said with a shake of your head. “I don’t…I get what you mean, I really do. And as much as I know you mean well, saying this now is very disrespectful to Bucky so I’d rather if we didn’t speak about this again.”
He pursed his lips and nodded his head.
“Understood,” he said. “I won’t, I promise.”
“I’ll see you later, okay?” you asked and gave him a short hug, then walked out of the café, your heart beating fast.
“What the fuck was that?” you muttered to yourself as you got into your car and let out a breath, then started driving.
*
As you walked into the Barnes skyscraper, you were still trying to comprehend just why the hell, out of all things to say to Ethan, you had chosen ‘disrespect to Bucky’ as your answer. What Ethan had said wasn’t even so bad, you had been reminding Bucky that you two would eventually get a divorce and even talk about all the things you’d do on your second wedding and marriage to someone else, but when Ethan so much as mentioned waiting for your divorce, you had decided to draw the line?
This was rather absurd.
You rolled your shoulders back as someone escorted you to the elevator and pressed the button for you and you checked your reflection in the mirror until you got to the top floor and the doors opened.
“I can find my way, thank you,” you said told the bodyguard and walked out of the elevator to make your way to Bucky’s office.
“Is he in?” you asked the receptionist who stood up when she saw you.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Great, thank you,” you said and knocked on the door, then opened it to step inside. Bucky was sitting behind his desk, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on the computer screen, but he turned his head when he saw you and raised his brows.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” you said and approached the couch to fling yourself on it, crossing your legs. “So my father didn’t call me after this morning, has George called you?”
“No.”
The curt answer made you tilt your head and you frowned at him.
“Have you heard from anyone else?” you asked. “Because I feel like—”
“How was lunch with Ethan?”
That made you stop talking and you raised your brows, your stomach doing a flip.
“Are you having me followed?” you asked sharply through your teeth and he let out a bitter chuckle.
“I don’t need to have you followed,” he said. “You met the guy in my territory in case you forgot.”
You licked your lips, crossing your arms defiantly.
“So what, am I supposed to report back to you every single thing I do now?”
“I think I’d like to know if you’re meeting your ex -who by the way, still wants to fuck you- like a week after our wedding, yeah,” he shot back, making your jaw drop.
“Easy there, cowboy.”
“Y/N we had an agreement—”
“Does it look like I’m sleeping with him from where you’re sitting?” you asked. “I know the agreement. You don’t sleep with anyone else and neither do I, until our divorce.”
“Then?”
“Then I can have lunch with whoever I want.”
“To repeat, he wants to—”
“It was a friendly lunch and he just apologized for reacted badly when I told him we would be getting married,” you defended yourself hurriedly, knowingly leaving out the part Ethan said about your potential divorce and Bucky rolled his eyes.
“Oh I wonder why he reacted badly to us getting married,” he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “What could it be? Any ideas?”
God damn it.
“This is not even a real marriage,” you hissed as you leaned in, careful not to speak too loud in case anyone outside could hear. “Or did you forget about that part?”
“Did you forget about the part we’re supposed to act madly in love?” he asked back, his voice calm unlike yours and even though he did have a point, the petulant part of you refused to acknowledge it, so you did the first thing you thought of and got up from the couch.
“I’m done talking about this.”
“Y/N.”
“I’m done I said!” you snapped over your shoulder and walked out of the office without looking back, making your way to the elevator. Your heart was beating in your ears and you grabbed your phone, and touched Becca’s name as the doors closed, the elevator moving.
“Hey,” Becca’s voice reached you. “What’s up?”
“I snapped at Ethan for disrespecting Bucky and then snapped at Bucky within the same hour,” you said and she paused for a moment, then hummed.
“I’m getting the wine ready,” she said. “Grab some sushi on your way here?”
“You got it,” you said and hung up the phone, then leaned your head back to the elevator wall. “What the actual fuck am I doing?”
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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
“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.
Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
LINK TO PART TWO: FAT
#mob!bucky barnes x reader#dark!bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes smut#navy and roo's sleepover#navy and roo sleepover#bucky smut#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes#mob bucky barnes x reader#mob boss!bucky#mob boss au#mob boss! avengers#f!reader#aspen wrote something#female reader
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Hybrids Mafia Princess Pt4
Warning: SMUT! Oral (F receiving), loss of virginity, anal sex, brief mentions of SA
Tag List: @a-beaverhausen @ranisingsnew @ronswhoree @susannahmikaelson @skulliecadaver-blog @yeaiamme2 @nataliewalker93 @luz09
Getting passed the guards on the property was easier than he expected, climbing up and tapping on her window. Y/n looked over, confused by the sound before seeing him and letting Klaus see the adorable “stunned” expression she wore.
‘What are you doing here?! Have you lost your mind? You could have been shot at the party we were at, now imagine what my father will do to you here, in my bedroom no less…how did you get passed the guards?’ She wondered and he smirked, sending a jolt of excitement down her spine.
‘I’m very sneaky. I told you this wasn’t over, remember?’ He teased her and while she giggled, she moved passed him to the window, opening it again and looking around.
‘It was sweet of you to come here but you need to go. I don’t want to be the reason you-‘ he cut off her ramblings as she turned, pressing his lips to hers gently. ‘Well maybe you could stay for a moment.’
‘Just a moment.’ He assured her, kissing her again, their lips meeting roughly.
‘Then you have to…have to go-‘
‘Have to go.’ He agreed and stepped forward, leading Y/n backwards until her back hit the mattress. ‘God, you’re gorgeous, fucking beautiful!’ Klaus pressed his lips to her jaw once she stopped for air, pinning her down and continuing to kiss her neck, sucking a dark mark onto her perfect skin before sinking his fangs into her.
Klaus had always heard how a mates blood tasted better than any other person in the world and he could now attest to that. As her blood flooded his mouth he couldn’t repress the moan that escaped him, her hips humping up against his cock which was practically ready to explode in his pants like he was a 14 year old boy. Y/n’s fingers were buried in his short blond locks, holding tightly as he continued grinding his hips down and Klaus knew how desperate he was making her.
‘Such a good girl, letting Daddy take care of you like this.’ She made a soft mewling sound, unable to get any words to form on her lips as she panted, Klaus’ hands holding tight to her thighs and not letting up as he kept pushing his hard cock against her. ‘You’re gonna cum for me Princess, Daddy’s gonna get you nice and wet before you take my cock.’
‘Nngh…Daddy!’ She moaned, hands holding onto his back so tightly that if he were human he would definitely bruise.
‘That’s right baby, Daddy’s here, making your pussy feel so good…You’re gonna let Daddy fuck your pretty pussy, aren’t you? Gonna let Daddy love you just like you need.’ She nodded quickly, him rutting against her just right before her head hit the mattress and Klaus quickly clamped his hand over her mouth as she came with a loud cry, unable to stop herself and it was the cutest thing the Hybrid had ever seen. ‘Such a good girl, Princess, just relax, Daddy will take care of everything.’ Klaus promised, moving to pull his shirt over his head, feeling her warm fingers on his skin almost instantly. Her shirt came off next along with her sleep pants and panties, leaving her completely exposed to his mercy and she didn’t seem to think anything was wrong with that.
Klaus knew he needed to protect this girl, her father had really fucked her up if she’s this trusting with him already and he is just thankful that it’s him that found her this vulnerable. He’s going to take advantage of it of course, but he won’t hurt her, not at all. He’s going to make her feel so good she’ll never even think about leaving him.
‘Klaus…I’ve never-‘
‘I know. It’s alright, I’m gonna take such good care of you. You’re Daddy’s baby now, and Daddy takes care of what belongs to him.’ He unhooked his belt and pulled down both his pants and boxer briefs just enough to free his cock and her eyes went wide. Klaus didn’t have the longest cock but his was always the thickest women had ever had (a result of his werewolf genes even when dormant), and he knew he had to be gentle. He also knew that being gentle and making her first time perfect would ensure she trusted him even more as he knew every man who had ever flirted with her had been aggressive about it, probably scaring the poor innocent girl even more he realized as he saw the fear in her eyes that he decided he did not like from his mate. ‘Don’t be scared…we don’t have to do this, we can stop right now if you don’t-‘
‘No, please don’t? I want you to enjoy it, I can do that. I can make you feel good, Daddy.’
His wolf practically purred in his chest at the idea that his mate wants to please him and would clearly let him fuck her any which way he wanted…maybe even in my wolf form- He quickly cut off that line of thought from his beast before getting back on track.
‘Princess, I love that you want to make me happy but I need to take care of you. That’s a Daddy’s job. You are going to love every second of this and if I hurt you the tiniest bit you are to tell me right away…you’re mine now. I won’t hurt you, I won’t be like everyone else in your life…I promise.’ The tears welling up in her eyes were almost cute and she pulled him down to press her lips to his passionately, desperately, needy for him as she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him close so his cock now rested against her slit. He couldn’t control the groan that came from him when he felt her wet heat against his sensitive, hard length and he quickly took hold of himself and pressed into her slowly, pausing about halfway in when she squeaked suddenly. ‘Take a second and relax your muscles, that will help, relax for Daddy.’ Klaus pressed his lips to her neck, sucking hard and leaving a dark love bite on her perfect pale skin.
‘I’m okay. More.’ She urged and he smiled, pressing in further, not stopping this time until he bottomed out. ‘So full…didn’t know I could feel like this…please move?!’ Y/n begged and he obliged right away, pulling his hips back and easing back in again. He did that several more times before thrusting up into her and enjoying her squeal before clamping his hand over her mouth again.
‘There’s Daddy’s good girl, so fucking good for me!’ He growled, the beast in the back of his mind purring in contentment as his mate allowed him to take her as he wanted, thrusting into her like a man possessed. ‘Perfect fucking pussy, squeezing me so good! You have the most perfect cunt I’ve ever felt, like velvet wrapped around me. She’s treating Daddy so good, never gonna stop fucking you! You’re all mine now. My! Fucking! Pussy!’ He growled, a thrust punctuating his last 3 words before I squealed under his hand, squeezing his cock hard as I came before feeling something hot filling me up inside. It was a feeling that I immediately loved and wanted more of as he pulled himself out of my pussy and kissed my face several times. He rolled off of me and pulled me to his side instantly, kissing my head and snuggling me as we both relaxed.
‘Did you mean it?’ He looked down at where she rested on his chest, raising his brows in question. ‘When you said I’m all yours now…did you mean it or…or was this just a one time thing? I-I have to know cause…so many men want to fuck me. Some cause they want on my Dads good side…some cause they want to say they stuck their cock in James Barnes daughter, and a lot want to…doesn’t matter-‘
‘No, what were you going to say?’
‘It doesn’t matter, I-‘
‘It does matter, tell me…a lot of them want to what?’ He demanded, suddenly quite serious and she cringed.
‘A lot of men want revenge on my father and…I wasn’t supposed to know but a lot of men have threatened to…hurt me…to get back at him. He killed them of course but the point is I don’t just want to be used…I want someone to love me no matter how pathetic that sounds-‘
‘That doesn’t sound pathetic…my father was an abusive piece of shit and that’s all I wanted all my life too…I understand.’ He explained, feeling close enough to tell her something only his siblings are aware of.
‘The point is I just-I need to know if I’m gonna wake up tomorrow and never see you again. It’s okay if-if you just wanted to fuck me, I would understand but please tell me the truth?’
His mate doubted him. He couldn’t say he didn’t understand, she’s been through hell in her life and she knows how many men just want to use and abuse her, she’s smart to be cautious…If not a bit late about it. ‘There’s a lot I need to tell you about myself, but right now you need to know that I knew the moment I first saw you that you were it for me. I’m in love with you Y/n, and I could not physically care any fucking less about your father. In fact I want to take you right now out that window and never come back, keep you by my side for eternity and get away from this horrible environment-‘
‘You would run away with me?’ She asked, hope in her voice and he instantly knew she would go anywhere he wanted with him.
‘In a heartbeat. We’ll do it, we’ll run away together. Whenever you’re ready Princess, but you need to understand, I meant everything I said to you. You are mine, every inch of you and I will never need another women again. I will never be with anyone but you, this perfect little cunt-‘ he spoke, hand cupping her sex and feeling her wetness against his fingers instantly. ‘-is the only one I will ever need again. This body is Daddy’s now, all mine to play with however I want…isn’t it? You’ll let Daddy play with you, won’t you?’ She nodded quickly, panting like a dog in heat as the heel of his hand rubbed over her clit roughly. ‘Let Daddy fuck this pussy however I want…will you let Daddy play with all your holes?’ His wet fingers trailed back down her slit and pressed between her cheeks to find her tight little asshole waiting for him to play with. She gasped as he pressed against the tight muscle, rubbing over it firmly and watching her eyes flutter as she nodded her head quickly.
‘P-please? Please Daddy?’
‘Does Daddy have a desperate little anal slut on his hands? I bet you are, you’re gonna beg your Daddy to fuck your tight little bum. I will always make you feel good Babygirl.’ He told her, pushing 2 of his wet fingers into her tight hole. ‘I won’t fuck you like this until I can hear you scream as loud as you need to for me, Daddy can’t wait until he can hear every sound he can drag out of your slutty little mouth. Until then though-‘ he placed his other hand over her mouth before sliding down her body and pressing a kiss to her clit, licking up her slit and tasting their combined pleasure, his wolf purring once again from deep in his chest. He thrust his fingers into her asshole as he ate her out, desperate to make her cum all over again only to freeze when there was suddenly a loud knock at her door.
‘Y/n? What are those noises? Are you hurt?’ She didn’t respond, looking down at Klaus terrified but he just gestured for her to respond to Steve. ‘Answer me or I’m coming in, and I don’t care how dressed you are!’
‘Steve, I’m…I’m masterbating! And I don’t know how my dad would feel about you talking to me while my fingers are inside my cunt!’
‘Oh Jesus! Christ Y/n, just-just keep it down! Goodnight!’ He hissed, stomping off down the hall just before she moaned again, Klaus sucking her clit hard and curling his fingers just right before his mate suddenly squirt all over his mouth causing the moan that the Hybrid let out as he came on the blanket underneath him.
‘You are so fucking perfect!’ He panted, wiping his mouth before sliding up her body and pressing his lips to hers desperately.
Y/n took his face in her hands and caressed his stubbly jaw. ‘I want to leave this house. This state, I want to go have a life with you away from all of this horrible pain. My father is…he’s a monster and if we don’t go I’m going to have to watch him kill you next. Tell me we can go, I’ll grab my stuff, go right now and-‘
‘Shh, Shh, Shh. Wait a second Princess. Yes, we can go but not tonight. I need to make sure everything is done in the house first-‘
‘House?’ She wondered and Klaus looked down, feigning embarrassment.
‘I uh…I already found us a place…I hoped I could convince you to go with me. It’s a great place in the woods in Washington state, far away from here and from your fathers reach. I will make you happy Babygirl, I promise. Just give me 2 days. 2 days and we’re gone I promise.’
‘You promise?’
‘Promise. Now let Daddy hold you before I have to go.’ He kissed her head gently, holding her firmly against his body and wishing he didn’t have to let her go. ‘First night in the house I’m holding you all night long, I will wake up with my Princess in my arms and never let you go again.’
‘I…I love you Nik.’ Y/n whispered, nuzzling into his neck to drift off with her Daddy’s arms around her tired body.
‘I love you too, Princess. You’re all mine now. Don’t you forget it.’
And she was. Klaus would never let her go now, no matter what he had to do to ensure it.
Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist
Hybrids Mafia Princess Series
#vampire#tvd klaus#hybrid#the vampire diaries#the originals#the vampire diares imagine#the originals imagine#klaus imagine#klaus x reader#klaus x y/n#klaus smut#niklaus mikaelson#niklaus imagine#klaus mikaelson#klaus mikaelson fluff#klaus mikaelson x reader#klaus mikaelson smut#klaus mikaelson imagine#yandere klaus mikaelson#yandere!klaus mikaelson#Bucky Barnes#james barnes daughter#james bucky barnes#mafia!bucky barnes#mob boss!bucky#mob boss bucky barnes#mafia bucky barnes#bucky barnes x daughter!reader#joseph morgan#Sebastian Stan
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AN OFFER II · 03
pairing: mob!bucky x reader
words: 3k
warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of cheating, mature themes, dark themes, language, fluff, boyd holbrook as clint barton.
“You like that girl, huh?”
“I've already told you as much as you should know,” he stated with no hesitation, his eyes still locked on you.
But Sam knew more, much more. He wasn't blind. Or clueless.
series masterlist
The heat of the evening clung to your body even before you slammed the car door behind you, making you immediately miss the air conditioned interior you hadn't had time to fully enjoy. You blamed the insufficiently long distance between your gallery and the suburbs where Steve's house was located, and the fact that you had to make a solid effort in the back seats, changing your office clothes for the light summer dress that Bucky had supposedly prepared for you – Parker had delivered such a message to you along with the dress when he came to pick you up for work.
You headed to the garden at the back of the house, where numerous conversations were coming from, merging into one incomprehensible gibberish of dozens of voices, and the smell of smoke hung in the air.
Having spotted Steve walking towards you, you put on a wide grin.
“Happy birthday.” You tied your arms around his neck, and Steve rubbed your back.
“Thanks,” he laughed quietly.
You pulled away and handed him a bottle of wine. “And this is for you.”
“Bucky’s already given me the gift from both of you," he assured with a slightly dim smile. Steve was doing his best to show his gratitude, but you could well see how uncomfortable he was. If it was up to him, the party would have had nothing to do with his birthday – fireworks and a few loved ones would have been enough.
“Yeah, I know…” You scratched your neck. “But I didn't want to come with empty hands.”
“Alright.” Steve's smile took on a bit lighter expression. “Come on,” he said, nodding encouragingly. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Oh, I'd love to,” you huffed with relief.
It was even hotter by the grill. Steve flipped a couple of sizzling steaks over, then reached into the coolbox, filled with melted ice and beers bathed in it, and handed you a wet bottle – pleasantly cold in your hand. It hissed as he opened it for you, and specks of drink fell barely perceptible on your skin. With the drink brought to your lips, you looked around; you didn't expect to find anything in particular, but your eyes instinctively landed on a familiar figure.
Holding his own beer in a loose grip, Bucky was talking to some woman. At least that's what it seemed to you at first; it soon became apparent that he was actively listening to her, and fighting with himself not to look bored.
His hair, tied back in a bun, exposed his face – slightly weary eyes, flushed cheeks and wet, shiny lips. Your own stretched in a warm smile as you watched the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on, remembering that he had once asked you to call him yours. And so he was yours.
Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Clint approaching. “Howdy, Y/N,” he spoke in a voice so not concise that you were able to judge how much alcohol, more or less, he had managed to take in. Enough to embrace you casually, draw you closer and place a juicy kiss on your cheek, his lips wet and sticky. On the other hand, as a matter of fact, Barton did not need alcohol to behave like this. “It's not nice to be late, don’t you think?”
“Hi, Clint,” you replied when you finally had the chance to do so. You carefully moved him away from you – you didn't mind that he was stuck to you, but you had to get rid of the additional source of heat as soon as possible. Nevertheless, Clint's arm remained glued to your shoulders. “I wasn't late,” you stated lightly. “I was here all the time. You just didn't see me.” You raised your eyebrows with conviction.
Clint furrowed his forehead. “No…” he said doubtfully. “That's not true…”
“No?” you dug deeper, driving Clint further into confusion.
“Clint,” you heard. The exact moment of Bucky's appearance escaped you, but given the length of the conversation you had with Barton, he had just approached the two of you. “Stop fucking harassing my wife.”
“I'm not harassing your wife,” he protested, taking his arm away. “And I don't know what she's doing, but she's terrorizing me.”
Bucky, unfazed, watched Clint in silence.
“Okay, okay…” Clint muttered, leaving.
You watched him for a moment, until you brought your gaze back to Bucky – you caught his eyes bore into you uninterrupted, and the corners of your mouth lifted involuntarily, mirroring his gentle, somewhat enigmatic smirk.
“Could you heat up something for her?” Bucky turned to Steve, who nodded in response. “Thanks.” He patted his shoulder, then reached out a hand to you, which you accepted without hesitation. He pulled you carefully toward a long, set table that, with a few stains and general disorder, gave away what stage the party was at. “I saved you a seat,” Bucky said, stroking your knuckles with his thumb. A gentle smile sneaked onto your lips again. The fact that he had done something seemingly insignificant with you in mind was all it took. “You look nice,” he added, pulling the chair out for you.
“You think?” You raised an eyebrow, and Bucky laughed softly. He put down the bottle he had been holding, took a seat next to you and threw his arm over the back of your chair. “Did you pick the first dress you got your hands on, or did you actually go through my entire closet?”
“I liked the flowers.” He shrugged subtly, his eyes briefly tracing the tiny pattern adorning the dress. “I thought you'd want to change into something more comfortable. And something more airy, because it's fucking hot,” he continued. “And, well…” he murmured, lifting his eyebrows. “It shouldn't be worn with a bra, because of-” He pointed at his own shoulders, but was hinting at yours, bare and uncovered. “So, it's actually a gift. From me. To me.”
You snorted, then shook your head disapprovingly. “You really know about these things, huh?”
“Your knees gone weak yet?”
“Almost.” You demonstratively waved your hand before your face. “You're on the right track, that's for sure.”
The party was going on at its own lazy pace.
With the excuse of needing to use the toilet, you left the table – where Steve, Sam and Clint had joined you in the meantime – and went inside the house to the empty, peaceful kitchen. You provided yourself with a glass and filled it with cool water – a pleasant change to the beer you had previously consumed.
To your surprise, Bucky also showed up in the kitchen. He peeked into the room, and having noticed you standing by one of the counters, he stepped inside. His arms crossed on his chest, he watched you without saying a word.
“Hmm?” you murmured, your lips hugging the rim of the glass. You moved it away from your mouth, and, thinking nothing of it, pressed it to your neck. For a brief moment, Bucky's eyes jumped to the cold, foggy glass resting against your warm skin. He quickly regained the concentration with which he had come.
“You alright?” He grunted, his mouth set in a hard line.
“Yeah.” You nodded. “Why..?”
Bucky shrugged. “I don’t know. But what I do know,” his eyebrows rose, “is that you’re hiding here. What are you hiding from, Y/N?” He took a step closer. “From me..?”
You tilted your head to the side. “What are you talking about?”
His intense stare was burning a hole in you when he looked at you like that – interested in your reactions, your behavior, your feelings, it was studying every inch, every muscle, every twitch; his eyes were wandering all over your face and body, searching for honest answers, the reasons behind your decision. “Am I wrong?”
After taking another sip, you put your glass down. “Don’t do that, Jamie. Because I see what you’re doing, you’re trying to crush me.” You folded your arms. “Don’t treat me like the people you do business with.”
Bucky’s eyes narrowed, a corner of his mouth lifted, forming a proud smirk. “Smart girl,” he hummed. “But I will do that, since you won’t talk to me.”
A heavy sigh escaped your mouth. “I just-” you hesitated. “I needed a little break.”
He got even closer, his hips pinning yours down to the counter. You gasped quietly, feeling a hot blush spreading all over your cheeks.
“Listen, baby,” Bucky started, his voice low. He licked his bottom lip, then drew it between his teeth, leering at you. “If I have to talk to you, you have to talk to me. Gotta know everything that's going on in that pretty head of yours.”
Your mouth went dry, so you swallowed hard. “And w-what if you hear something you won't like?”
Bucky sized you up. “Don't get too curious.”
After sunset, the garden was illuminated by lights positioned low on the lawn, and there was no trace of the heavy stickiness in the air from a few hours before.
For a short moment, you disappeared from Bucky's radar, but it only took him a few glances – a couple of casual looks around – to bring you back into his field of vision. He found you among clearly excited women, grinning from ear to ear – mistresses, girlfriends, fiancés and wives of other gangsters. They swarmed around you, forming a delighted ring, chirping solely about those topics that concerned your new role.
"Show us the ring. Oh, it's beautiful."
"How was the wedding? No one was invited."
"We were losing hope that Bucky would ever settle down."
"Where did you spend your honeymoon?"
"How did you spend your honeymoon?"
The division between these several groups – mistresses, girlfriends, fiancés and wives – was clear but not striking. Wives always stood at the top of the hierarchy, being a little calmer and more toned down. Fiancés, on the other hand, radiated the strongest enthusiasm – unlike girlfriends, they felt much more secure in their position, and, like wives used to be, were still hopeful and optimistic about the future.
"You know, don't worry if he gets a mistress. It's a bit shocking at first, but mistresses are only there to please them. Nothing more than that."
"Exactly, they just need fresh meat.”
"Especially after children come along. Then it's even better for you. You won't have the energy or appetite anyway."
"It doesn't have to be that way. Stop scaring her."
"It doesn't have to be that way, but it's always better to be prepared for it."
"Someone like Bucky Barnes definitely needs a lot of attention. He has a lot on his plate. And you'll have to take care of the house, the kids and your husband? Oh, and I hear that you have a job?"
"But you will have your children. Children are great."
"Unless they grow up. Teenagers are-"
"Last time, I couldn't leave Mason in the daycare. There was an outbreak of stomach flu."
"Oh, poor thing."
Bucky, watching you standing in the center of that crossfire, saw you shrinking more and more. For a short while, it seemed to him that there were some advantages to this whole situation; that you were socializing with the people from his environment. But he finally realized that you were actually uncomfortable – he concluded this especially after you emptied an entire glass of unspecified liquid in one gulp. From the grimace on your face, he figured it surely contained percentages.
But perhaps it had to be that way – perhaps you had to learn the hard way that it was in Bucky's company that you felt safest.
With a hand shoved in his pocket, and the other embracing his beer, Sam stood next to Bucky. “What are you doing?” he asked; after all, Bucky was standing by himself, staring at a group of women.
“Looking.”
“Yeah, I can see that. But why?”
Bucky shrugged. “I like looking at her.”
Sam’s forehead creased as he once again glanced at the women. Only then did he understand who was the target of their attention. He smiled to himself and shook his head. “You like that girl, huh?”
“I've already told you as much as you should know,” he stated with no hesitation, his eyes still locked on you.
But Sam knew more, much more. He wasn't blind. Or clueless. “Okay, okay…”
“Alright. I'm going to rescue her,” Bucky said, lifting his cup to his mouth. “Before they eat her alive.” He left the empty cup on the table he had been leaning against and walked in the direction of the group. They went quiet as he approached, then burst out again with excitement, welcoming him.
Bucky caught the look of relief and gratitude on your face. He put his arm around your waist and rubbed your lower back affectionately. You rested your hand on his torso and continued listening to the questions and delights flying around in the air. Bucky didn't want to be rude, so he didn't pull you away from there right away. However, when he was right next to you, you felt a surge of new strength that allowed you to bear it all for a little longer than you thought.
A few big grins and forced laughs later, Bucky finally escorted you out of the group. The two of you stayed attached to each other as he led you slowly in some unspecified direction – as far away as possible from the force that sucked you in, chewed you up and spat you out.
“Are you okay?” Bucky chuckled softly, caressing your shoulder.
“Yeah,” you replied immediately, but somewhat barely conscious.
“Wanna go home?”
“Oh yes, please.”
As you stopped at the entrance to the bedroom, Bucky lifted his eyes from his book and bore them into you – your hair was still slightly damp from the shower, and only the thin fabric of a short nightgown separated him from a direct view of one of his favorite things on Earth – your naked body. Thinking very little, or rather, thinking about nothing but one thing, he closed the book and put it down on the bedside table.
“What's with the face? What’s wrong?” he asked.
You climbed onto the mattress and sat on your bent knees, resting your hands on your thighs. Bucky reached for one of them; he grabbed it loosely and stroked your knuckles. He looked at you, waiting, but with the same patience he had always had for you.
“I'm just wondering," you began hesitantly, clenching your fingers on his in a nervous impulse, “if you're planning on having a mistress. Or... mistresses,” you added barely audibly; your voice failed you as soon as your mind realized what was actually coming out of your mouth.
Bucky’s brows drew together. He slowly sat up, bringing himself closer to you. The thought of him downplaying the problem, dodging the subject or laughing in your face made your muscles tense.
“Well-” he began, his forehead slightly furrowed. He didn't speak for just a second, but that much was fully enough for you to process the hundreds of ways he would give you an affirmative answer. Of course I am, but it’s for the best, or Baby, you didn’t really think I would be faithful, right? Or One girl is just not enough. “It happens,” Bucky said carefully. “And it is considered completely normal with the life we lead-”
You nodded hurriedly. “Yes, I realize that.” You knew it; after all, you came from the same environment. Did your father happen to cheat on your mother? You remembered that your uncles, who were not really your uncles, happened to show up with newer and newer aunts. “But I'm not asking how it works. I'm asking about you.”
“I'm not planning on having a side chick,” despite the fact that this time he didn't even think for a second, he sounded calm. “Not, since I already have the most gorgeous girl I could come across,” his tone and blank expression proved that he was not trying to sugarcoat or pull the wool over your eyes; he was just honest.
You lowered your gaze to your hands, to the inside of one, where a now faded scar was drawn – the same as in Bucky's hand.
“You are saying that because we are in the honeymoon phase and the sex is still good,” you stated. “But what about later? I'll have to take care of the house, the kids, my job. I won't have the energy to give you the attention, and you will eventually need some fresh meat-” you babbled, forgetting to breathe. You closed your eyes and hid your face in your hands, coming to the conclusion that you had let them mess with your mind. You even used the same words as them.
Bucky gently wrapped his fingers around your wrists and pulled them away from your face, then cupped it and made you look at him. Stroking your cheeks tenderly with his thumbs, he watched you with a hardly visible but soft smile – a smile full of understanding. “If,” he emphasized, “you'd like to take care of the house and... everything else, but couldn't handle something, we can hire a housekeeper, a nanny or a fucking assistant, alright? As for the sex…” A crooked smile crept onto his lips. “I would rather not involve any outsiders, hmm?”
A peace of mind you didn't expect to experience with this particular issue washed over you. You were blown away by Bucky’s ability to bring you that much calmness. And perhaps you were naive, but you believed him – you trusted that he would never hurt you in this way.
You nodded, the corners of your mouth turned up shyly.
“Attagirl,” he murmured, placing a kiss on your forehead. “If there’s something that scares or upsets you, tell me about it. And we'll figure it out,” he added, his lips still on your skin. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your hair.
You tilted your head back a little so that you could look at his face. Again, he stroked your cheeks with his hands, as if correcting their placement, and gave you another gentle smile. Then, without a second thought, you climbed onto his thighs, and, hugging his neck, clung tightly to his body. Having closed his arms around you, Bucky pressed you to his chest and started caressing your back. Feeling his touch, his warmth, the beating of his heart, you melted.
a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰
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The Family -- [Mafia AU, Oneshot]
40's Mob Boss!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Bucky returns home from the war and finds himself with a lifetime's worth of mistakes to make up for. You aren't going to make it easy for him, but he wouldn't have it any other way.
Warnings: smut! gun violence, ptsd, dad bucky (prepare ur ovaries) language, bucky having been a dick in the past, mentions of crime and such. The reader has a name, but it only comes up every so often so.... i think thats it?
Notes: This is one of my fave oneshots that I wrote for my patreon, so unless ya'll used to follow me there, this is an entirely new piece <3 This was basically an excuse to write Mob Power Couple Bucky x Reader, and also Dad!Bucky <3
Words: 17k!!!!!!!!!!!
1944
Bucky stares up at the familiar building, old and faded, but homely. Well, not on the outside, but on the inside certainly, he knows that much. Knows the war wouldn’t have stopped his Ma from keeping her home in any way she could.
Tentatively, he hikes his duffle bag higher on his shoulder and crosses the street.
Climbing up four flights of stairs, where he can hear the familiar sounds of the neighbours through their doors on each landing, when he finally arrives on his floor he pauses, smiling for a moment as he breathes in the sweet smell of home cooked food wafting in from under the door. Of all the amenities and freedoms he’d missed during his time overseas, the food had been the worst.
Lifting a hand, he knocks lightly and steps back, waits quietly even as he hears muffled speaking and shuffling on the other side. For a moment when the door swings open, his heart jumps, worried maybe he’d over expected his welcome.
“Bucky?! James?! Oh, my baby! My baby, my baby!”
His doubt is washed away by his mother’s tight embrace, her arms wrapped around his neck in a vice grip that almost throws him off balance. He chuckles and wraps his own arm around her middle, breathes in the familiar scent of home, and closes his eyes a moment.
“It’s so good to see you…” He says, Winnifred Barnes pulling back for a moment, her hands cupping his face tenderly.
“Is it really you? You’re home?!” Bucky smiles softly, and takes her hand in his own, squeezing them.
“Yeah, Mama, I’m home, I’m here. I promise.”
Once Becca had arrived home from her shift, and her own subsequent bout of crying and hugging, the Barnes’ had sat down for dinner as a family for the first time in five years. Becca had talked his ear off about what she’d been up to, and unlike when they’d been kids and he’d get annoyed, he simply listened and enjoyed the sound of a voice he hadn’t heard in too long. During long nights dug down in trenches, the only sound a blaring machine gun some ways away, Bucky had wished for his sister’s long rants.
Winnie kept heaping more servings onto his plate, asking if he were hungry, pouring him more water until Bucky finally just asked her to sit with him, and held her hand for a long while. Every so often she would squeeze it, as if checking to make sure that he were really there.
“So… how’d you lose it?” Becca asks after dinner, when they stand side by side clearing up the dishes while Winnie made sure his room was fit for sleeping once more. Bucky smirks and sideyes her.
“You know you lasted longer than I had you pegged for. Now I’m just glad I didn’t make bets.” He says, earning an elbow in the side. Becca scoffs and rolls her eyes.
“I’m not a kid anymore you know, I’ve got… tact and shit.” She tells him, and Bucky chortles.
“Oh yeah? Tact and shit, huh? Mama teach you that?” He earns another elbow, but it's soft, not as sharp, and the two laugh for a moment as Bucky continues to dry off each dish as Becca hands them to him.
“Landmine, in Italy. Heard the click before the guy who’d stepped on it, shoved him out of the way… thought I was a goner, but woke up a coupla days later in a hospital. Said they were sending me home.” He eventually breaks the silence, but doesn’t look up from the plate he’s drying, even when he feels his sister’s gaze on him.
“Did it hurt?”
“After, hell yeah, but they gave me some pretty good meds. Don’t even remember the trip home.” He jokes, and Becca chuckles.
“From what I’ve heard, that's a good thing.”
Bucky hums.
“You been to see Vivi yet?” She asks, a little bit of stiffness in her voice, and Bucky sighs.
“No.”
“She know you’re home?”
“No.”
“You gonna tell her?”
“I don’t know, Becca!” Bucky says, exasperated now, and rubs his hand over his face. He sighs again, giving her an apologetic look.
“Yes, probably. You know it’s complicated.”
Becca purses her lips and drains the sink.
“You’re my brother, and I love you endlessly… but she was right. And you are stupid.” She says, stepping forward to catch him on the cheek with a kiss.
“The sooner you tell her, the better it will be.”
Bucky watches Becca leave the room and leans against the counter, chewing on his lip.
‘Better’ is all he can hope for, and yet he still thinks that's far from what he’ll get.
The walk isn’t far, he knows the way by heart even after all these years, and in the cold Brooklyn air, he keeps his head down and his hand in his pocket as he moves. Street lamps light his way, and when he finally turns down a small alley, he takes a deep breath before he climbs up the rickety metal staircase and enters the building.
Inside is when he feels his chest start thumping, and with each flight climbed and each door number passed, he feels like it may just jump from his chest completely.
He knocks, and steps back, waits as he hears someone approach the door. He doesn’t hear the chain slide, instead it simply cracks open enough for a pair of eyes to peek around the edges. They’re the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen, just as much now as when he’d first seen you all those years ago.
From your chocolate coloured eyes framed with long, thick eyelashes, your dark curly hair that refused to be tamed, and your tawny olive complexion that just seemed to glow in any lighting… Bucky Barnes knows an angel when he sees one. You’d gotten older, obviously, as had he, but it suited you.
You don’t look surprised or shocked to see him at all, if anything you look annoyed, and honestly, he thanks his lucky stars it’s just annoyance.
“The fuck are you doing here?”
God, he’d missed you so much.
“Just got home. Came to see you.”
“Well, I don’t wanna see you.” You counter, and Bucky rolls his eyes, huffing, but suppressing the smile he knows will only set you off more.
“You don’t mean that, Vivi.”
“The fuck I don’t?”
“Lemme see Ale, then.” He tries, and you narrow your eyes. He knew you too well, knew your bluster was your armour. That didn’t mean you weren’t tough as nails though.
“He’s already in bed.” You lift your chin slightly, defensively
Bucky sighs this time and looks away.
“Come on, Viv, let me see the kid. It’s been five years.”
Your expression doesn’t change, but it doesn’t harden either, and when the door shuts in his face a second later, he waits patiently, listening as the chain-lock jingles against the wood.
The door opens again, revealing you in a gown, and despite his excitement at seeing you so undressed he ignores it, and moves inside. He really did miss you, if the thought of you covered wrist to ankle in a thick robe turned him on.
“I’ll kill you if you wake him.” The threat is half-hearted, and Bucky waves a hand, stepping past you and further into the familiar apartment he’d once called home. He didn’t need you to direct him through it, and you don’t seem to want to either, instead perching yourself by the kitchen window, lighting up a cigarette.
Bucky pulls his hat off his head as he reaches the hallway, swallowing thickly before he pushes open the last door. A soft glow emanates from a lamp on a tall cupboard, giving him enough light to make out the bundled shape on the small bed in the corner. Bucky finds himself carried closer, and soon he’s staring down at the sleeping boy, his heart in his throat.
He’d grown so much… Last time Bucky had seen him, Alessandro had been one, still a baby really. Gone was the cot, in its place now, a small single bed. He sniffs, seeing he was right all those years ago when he’d said the boy would take after you, but he’s more than a little surprised to see how much of a resemblance he carries to himself.
Entirely ignoring your warning about waking him up, Bucky sits himself down on the edge of the bed, and lets his hand reach out to trace the edge of his son’s face, the soft skin warm from the many blankets you had him piled under. He recognises the duvet from your own old shared bed and sighs.
Ale’s curly hair is coarse, but soft at the same time, and Bucky smiles to himself as he smooths it down. He can’t believe he’d missed so much of his boy’s life. Not just during the war, but before it too.
He’d been an immature, stupid kid, never home, always out, always looking for some kind of trouble to get himself into.
And he’d found it too.
Bucky had met you as a teenager, both of you coming from immigrant families from Italy, and you’d fallen in love hard and fast. You’d always been tough, a little prickly, but he’d side-stepped your defences and you’d been wrapped around each other’s fingers. When he’d gotten you pregnant, he’d done the decent thing, and the thing he’d wanted to do anyway, and married you.
But that’s when things started going downhill.
Work was hard to come by, every able-bodied boy in Brooklyn was already hanging around by the docks hoping to get something, anything to help support their families. Bucky had managed a job here and there, but it was never permanent, never stable. He’d turned to less ordinary means of making money, pickpocketing, small-time theft, gambling.
You’d started to fight. You had expectations of him, to provide for his son at the very least, and yet he was too fat-headed, too stupid to listen to you. You’d always told him he was going to get in trouble, and when he did, it would leave you and Ale on your own. You’d been right, like you always were.
Bucky sighs, and moves to stand, but soft stirring makes him pause, and soon he’s looking into blinking hazel eyes, the boy rubbing them tiredly for a moment as he sits up.
“Daddy?” He asks quietly, and the excitement doesn’t seem to be there, making Bucky worry for a moment, until Ale seems to wake up more and he scoots closer.
“Daddy!?”
“Yeah, pal, it’s me, I’m home…” He relishes in the feel of his son scrambling into his lap, his little arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and Bucky feels his eyes sting, vision blurring just slightly.
“Daddy! I missed you so much!”
“I missed you too, Ale, more than anything.”
“Are you stayin’?!”
Bucky hesitates, but shakes his head, stroking the side of Ale’s face as he sits himself more comfortably on his lap.
“No baby, not here, but I’ll be at Grandma’s… but you can come see me whenever you want, okay?” Ale seems to dull a little, but his fingers catch around the dogtags under Bucky’s shirt and he pulls them free, playing with them for a moment, his big eyes travelling over the etched words.
“Okay!” He says then, and Bucky chuckles, ruffling his hair a little.
“Alright buddy, you gotta go back to bed okay? Or your Mama will kill me.” He pauses, thinking for moment before talking again.
“You in school now?”
“Uh-huh!”
“How ‘bout I pick you up tomorrow afternoon?”
“Okay!” He helps the boy climb back into bed, under all the covers and tucks him in, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead.
“Goodnight, Al, I love you.”
“Love you too, daddy… See you tomorrow!”
When Bucky steps out from the bedroom, closing the door behind him, he doesn’t expect to find you in the hallway, leaning against the wall.
For a moment you only stare at one another, until Bucky sighs.
“I missed you as well, Vivi.”
You don’t reply at first, adjusting your arms to cross in front of you, but he does notice the quick once over you give him.
“You back for good or they sending you off again?”
“Unless I magically grow another arm, I’m home for good.” Bucky mimics you, leaning against the opposite wall.
You nod and shift, eyes lingering on his missing limb for just a moment.
“Are you staying with your mother?”
“Yep.”
“Good.”
He isn’t quite expecting that, or the harshness behind it and he blinks, swallowing.
“We’re fine. We’ve been fine for five years. You don’t get to come back and just appear in our lives all of a sudden. I won’t let you toy him around with the same broken promises and bullshit you did me, got it?”
Bucky feels a pang of hurt, but he knows you have every right to say this to him, knows that before he went to war he hadn’t been the best father or husband. He knows doesn’t deserve your forgiveness. He knows it’s very likely he’ll never get it.
“Alright.” He says, taking a deep breath and nodding. Your eyes narrow.
“‘Alright’? That’s it?”
Bucky nods again.
“Alright, no more bullshit.” He confirms, and means it.
“You’ll find a job— a real one?”
“I will.” He knows earning your trust will be hard. Not just because of who you are naturally, but because he’d already had it once, and shattered it into pieces. But it's something he has to do.
You may never love him again, but he’ll prove to you he’s changed, even if it's the last thing he does.
Bucky pushes away from the wall and places his hat back on his head.
“I told Ale I’d pick him up from school tomorrow.”
You scoff in disbelief but he ignores it.
“Which one is it, what time?” He asks instead. You seem to suck on your teeth for a few seconds before you give up the information.
“Queen Street. Three PM.” Bucky nods, and not wishing to out stay his welcome, he steps past you and makes his way back to the front door.
As he pulls it open, you move to hold it as he steps through, leaning against the wood for a moment as he turns back. He’d opened his mouth to bid you goodnight but he finds himself unable to speak at the momentary softness drawn across your features, your eyes turned-down.
“Thank you for coming to see him.” The depth in your voice makes his throat run dry for a few seconds.
“And… I am glad you came home. Safe.” You add a moment later, eyes darting around the hall.
“O-of course. ‘Course.” He isn’t sure what else there is to say, or what else he should say, so he steps back and tips his hat at you.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You don’t reply, just watching him for a few seconds before you quietly close your door.
Bucky Barnes had come home from the war, but nothing in the past five years compares to the task ahead of him.
—-
“Buck! How ya been?!”
Bucky grins widely as he’s pulled into the arms of one Steve Rogers. Once upon a time, Bucky would’ve needed to bend down, but in the five years since he’d seen the blond last, the previously scrawny kid had somehow transformed into a tall, muscular man.
Not quite unrecognisable, Bucky had had to hide his slight shock upon entering Valentino’s and seeing his old friend. On the phone that morning Bucky had known the voice before Steve even had a chance to tell him. Steve had apparently heard through the grapevine that Bucky had returned, and invited him down to the local Italian bar. Bucky had needed to check twice that he’d heard the name of the place correctly when Steve told him.
Valentino’s was a mob place, everyone knew that.
“Come on, sit down…” Steve ushers Bucky into a booth, but turns toward the barman. He doesn’t speak, he simply raises his finger as if to get his attention before turning back around and taking a seat across from Bucky.
“S’good to see you, Buck.” Steve starts and Bucky smiles.
“Yeah, you too, pal. Been busy I see…” He trails off as the barman approaches, bottle of whiskey and two glasses in his hands. He sets them down between the two men and Bucky eyes the way Steve hardly acknowledges the other man, simply reaches forward and pours a healthy amount of amber liquid into each cup.
“Bit early for drinking, don’t ya think?” Bucky lifts a brow, even as he takes the glass Steve knocks toward him, clinking the rim against the blond’s before taking a sip. He scrunches up his nose.
“Like hell it is! My best pal returns from the war and that’s not celebration enough to drink?” Steve shakes his head, and then points at him.
“You’re lucky I didn’t come to your Mama’s door last night and drag you out.”
“I think you mean you’re lucky. She would’ve throttled you first.” Bucky scoffs, and the two men share a laugh.
But Bucky can’t stop his eyes from wandering around the bar, curiosity and skepticism filling him. Steve notices and follows his gaze for a moment.
“After you left, I got busy ingratiating myself.” Steve grins wickedly, his face still seemingly filled with boyish innocence as he does. Steve’s family had come from Ireland, but he’d grown up thoroughly in an Italian neighbourhood.
“I can see that.” Bucky says with a nod. Steve doesn’t make to say more on the matter, but he does place his drink back on the table and lean forward slightly, face turning more serious.
“Listen, now you’re back, I’m gonna set you up. I know you’re staying with your Ma, but I’m gonna sort you a place of your own.”
Bucky blinks and immediately begins shaking his head, frowning.
“Steve, you don’t—”
“—I do. You took the fall for me, you got arrested and sent off to europe… I owe you, pal, plain and simple.” Steve nods matter-of-factly and leans back again in his seat.
“Especially since you went and got your arm blown off.”
Bucky knows there’s no arguing with Steve, not when he’d made up his mind already. He can only roll his eyes and shake his head.
“We’ll even get you some work, I know there’s some spots coming up on a—”
“—Legitimate work only, Steve.” Bucky says sharply, sternly, and Steve eyes him for a moment.
“I can’t go getting arrested again. There’s no war to save me from prison this time. I got a family I need to provide for.” Bucky sighs. Steve throws back half his drink.
“I thought Vivi left you.” He asks bluntly and Bucky rolls his eyes once more.
“That doesn’t mean I just stop being Ale’s father. I gotta do what I can now that I can. That means staying out of trouble.”
Steve watches him for a moment longer, considering his words before he nods.
“Alright. Well, I can still help you out with that. You busy this afternoon? We’ll take your stuff to your new place, and I’ll bring you to meet one of my bosses.”
Bucky feels a slight thrill of excitement, not at the prospect of meeting one of Steve’s bosses but at having seemingly gotten himself some form of work already. But he frowns, processing all of Steve’s words fully.
“I— I can’t this afternoon, I’m picking Ale up from school at three…”
Steve waves his hand.
“Fine, after that. Just meet me back here when you’re finished.”
-
At three o’clock on the dot Bucky picks Ale up from his school and walks with him home. He’d seen your figure at the kitchen window as they’d approached the apartment building, your face showing a flash of relief when you’d registered their forms on the sidewalk.
“I’m about to meet with a, uh, friend, about a job and a place to live…” He tells you when you meet them at the front door, a smile and kiss for Ale, a guarded gaze for himself.
“A job?” You ask, taking a drag of your cigarette before blowing it off to the side.
“Where?”
Bucky isn’t even sure himself, and for a moment he considers making something up, but he knows lying to you is not the best way to start his return.
“Dunno just yet. I’ll find out when I meet with him.”
Your eyebrow lifts subtly, but you nod anyway, getting ready to move back inside when Bucky places a hand on the door, to stop it from closing fully. You turn to look back at him, somewhat annoyed.
“I’ll… I’ll let you know where I move… so that Ale can come see me whenever he likes…” Bucky informs you, and for a moment he sees the steel in your gaze soften, before you’re rolling your eyes.
“Mm-hmn.”
Bucky places his hat back on his head and takes off walking.
At least you hadn’t told him to go fuck himself.
—-
Steve makes good on his word, and gets Bucky a mostly legitimate job.
‘Legitimate’ because he was working as a driver and chauffeur, and ‘mostly’ because his boss was one Don Carlo Marinelli.
At first, Bucky had balked. He had thought perhaps he’d be given a job on the docks, or in a storehouse, not driving around one of the most dangerous and powerful men in Brooklyn… Still, it paid well, he wasn’t technically involved with anything unsavory, and it meant he got to drive one of the nicest vehicles he’d ever seen.
Over the next months, Bucky settles back into civilian life. He rented his own apartment, on weekends he wasn’t working he’d take Ale out, and even your coldness seemed to be slowly thawing. It was the first time in a long time Bucky hadn’t found himself drowning under expectation, trying to get atop of it only to pour more water in… it felt good. A small part of him missed the adrenaline and unpredictability of his time at war, but a bigger part of him knew those days were gone.
Or so he had thought.
Everything changes that night.
Bucky is sat back in the driver's seat of the car, a cup of coffee in his hand. He mindlessly whistles softly, his foot tapping out of time. Don Marinelli had entered the small church an hour or so ago, some meeting with some folk Bucky hadn’t dared to eavesdrop about on the drive over. The less he knew, the better.
The night was still and cold and aside from Bucky’s own clouded breath, there was not a single movement up or down the road.
That made it all the more unusual when there was movement.
Bucky frowns to himself when he sees the man walking toward him on the opposite side of the street, his head down, hat low, a dark coat wrapped around him and his hands stuffed in his pockets. There was just something not right about it, which is why as the man draws nearer, Bucky slumps down in his seat, sliding so his form wouldn’t be so easily spotted under the street lamps.
He needn’t have worried about being caught however, as the man simply turns, and walks right into the building Bucky had seen Marinelli enter an hour ago. He pulls a hand from his pocket as he moves, but before he disappears completely, Bucky sees a glint of light bounce off something in his hand.
Bucky certainly was no expert in mob dealings, but he knows that’s not a good sign.
With his heart pounding in his ears, Bucky scrambles, seatbelt flung off his waist, he leans over to the passengers side glovebox and all but yanks the compartment open. He knew there were guns in the car, he’d seen them before, though had never dared touch them. Now though, he grabs the hefty pistol and kicks the door open, not bothering to lock or secure the vehicle behind him as he races across the street.
His mind and body work completely on instinct as he edges inside the doorway, gun raised expectantly and eyes flicking about for signs of the man in the dark coat, but he’s only met with an empty church foyer.
Keeping his pace even and his steps quiet, Bucky moves toward where he can hear muffled voices, and finds himself in the center aisle of the main hall. At the far end, a group of men stand nearby the altar, smoking cigars, with glasses of something Bucky assumes is not holy communion in their hands.
For a moment, he falters, whips his head around searching for the other man, wondering if perhaps he’d been too worked up, too ready to jump into some action.
At the same time he notices Steve amongst the men, the blond calls out to him in confusion, but another sound catches in Bucky’s ears and it's as if time moves slowly for several seconds.
Steve’s calling of his name makes several of the men, including Don Marinelli turn toward Bucky, but a metallic clinking sound over his head makes him spin on his heels. Above Bucky, on the balcony of the upper pews, he spies the man he’d followed inside, knelt down and with a gun poised in his hands, ready to open fire.
Adrenaline and training dictate Bucky’s next moves, and with two shots, he doesn’t even hear, the man on the balcony stumbles back. Commotion erupts behind him, but it isn’t until the would-be-attacker tumbles over the edge, his body falling at Bucky’s feet with a sickening ‘thud’, that time returns to normal for him.
“What the fuck!?”
“Who the hell is this guy?!” Various shouts and words force Bucky back to reality, and he lowers the gun, tearing his eyes away from the bloodied body on the floor.
“Buck? What the hell—” Steve has jogged over to him, his eyes wide as he looks between Bucky and the man on the ground for a moment, before he places his hands on Bucky's shoulders, shaking him slightly.
“You okay, pal? What the hell was that?”
Bucky shakes his head, frowning as he tries to answer that question for himself.
“I— I was waitin’ for Don Marinelli, like I was supposed to, and I just saw this guy come out of nowhere up the street… it didn’t look right, he didn’t… look right…” Bucky trails off, his eyes fixating on his boss as the older Italian man nears.
“Boss, it's an Irish…” Another guy yells, and Bucky casts his eyes back to where a few of the younger men seem to be inspecting the body on the ground.
“You saw him coming in here with a gun and decided to follow?” Marinelli asks, seemingly baffled, but there's a hint of awe in his voice too. Bucky ducks his head a little, nodding.
“Yes, sir.”
Without warning, another hand comes down on Bucky’s shoulder, clasping firmly and pulling him forward slightly.
“You hear that boys? Where the fuck was your drivers, huh?!” Marinelli jokes, and a round of awkward chuckles echo through the church. When Bucky looks back up, Marinelli is tipping his chin up at Steve.
“You two know each other, Rogers?” He asks, and Steve nods.
“Grew up together, Buck just got back from the war.”
“So that’s where you learned to shoot like that, huh?”
Bucky nods awkwardly and swallows as the Don pats him on the back once more, before giving him a steady once over.
“Tell you what, figlio, you come see me tomorrow, we’ll see what we can do about some sort of promotion.” He gives Bucky another firm pat.
“Uh, yes sir. Thank you, sir…” He watches blinking as the Don moves back to the others, all of which look more than ready to wrap this meeting up, or atleast find a new location.
Behind him, some of the lackeys appear to be talking quietly over the body.
Bucky looks at Steve.
“What… what just happened…?”
Steve sideeyes him, a shit eating grin pulling across his lips.
“You, pal, just saved the lives of the most powerful men in Brooklyn.”
Bucky swallows and sucks in a sharp breath.
He doesn’t seem to let it out until the next morning.
—-
You sigh exasperatedly as you peek out your kitchen window, and put your cigarette out on the sill.
“Ale, are you ready il mio amore?” You hear an excited shout back from the hallway and slip on your shoes and coat. Your son bounds from his bedroom and makes straight for the front door.
“Aye! Get your coat and hat or you’ll get cold!” You scold lightly, and watch as Ale quickly pulls his jacket from the hook by the door and tugs it over his arms, he takes his hat in his hands but as you near him, you bend down to place it neatly on his head, pushing back some of his curls.
“You look very handsome tesoro.”
“Thank you Mama!” He leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, making you chortle in surprise. You take his hand and walk with him out of the apartment, and down to the sidewalk.
Waiting for you, as you’d seen from your window, is Bucky.
Dressed impeccably in a brown suit and hat, his hand in his pocket as he leans against the side of a black car, he waits patiently for the two of you. You eye the vehicle with some disdain, but focus on the man before you as Ale releases your hand to run and jump into his arm. Bucky catches him skillfully, his smile turning brighter as he holds your son near, pressing his lips to his cheek before he puts him back on the ground.
You can’t help but take in the quality of his clothes now that you’re closer, the shine of his shoes, new and unscuffed, his face recently shaved (though you see he was keeping a light stubble that suited him), and his hair cut. You see as much when he removes his hat to tip at you.
“Daddy, can I sit in the front seat?!”
“You can sit on the passenger's side, make sure you buckle yourself in!” Bucky turns from you to tell Ale, and you both watch for a moment as he hops inside the car, situating himself inside. When the door closes, Bucky turns back to you and you cross your arms over your chest.
“Must be some job.” You say, and Bucky shrugs noncommittally.
“Has its perks.”
“I bet.” You stare at each other for several seconds, you glaring, and Bucky with his relaxed and easy smile. It was infuriating.
“You know, something funny happened the other day when I went to see my landlord.” You begin and Bucky shifts his weight, frowning almost convincingly.
“Oh?”
“Hmn. I went to pay my rent and he told me ‘it’s already been taken care of’, which I think you may understand is very confusing for me…” You attempt to keep your voice even, after all, you were out on the street.
“It’s been taken care of for the next year, so if he tries to weasel anything more outta you, just let me—”
“—I don’t need you to pay my rent!” Your previous attempts at calm go right out the window, and you step forward, hissing at him with your finger pointed toward his chest. Bucky’s dumb act falls away and he purses his lips.
“I have managed just fine, I can pay my own bills.” The argument is futile. You’d already decided if he were going to be dumb enough to waste his money on your rent, you’d let him. Rubbing your temples, you take a few deep breaths.
“I don’t doubt you’ve managed just fine,” Bucky begins, and you straighten as he steps away from you and draws the car door open.
“But a man’s gotta provide.” And with that, he’s sliding into the driver's seat and closing the door behind him.
You watch, somewhere between infuriated and bewildered as the car rumbles to life. Absently you wave goodbye to Ale who peeks at you through the window, and when the vehicle has disappeared down the end of your street, you seeth. Your mind whirls and you draw blood from your lip with how hard you chew on it.
What the hell kind of game was he playing? Where had he suddenly gotten all this money from?
You turn on your heel and march the opposite way, your destination clear in your mind.
Even when the man at the bar puts his hands up and tells you they’re closed, you roll your eyes and keep moving through Valentino’s.
“Hey! Lady, I said you couldn’t be in here!” The barmen suddenly steps in your way, a tall, burly man with a moustache and a mean glare.
“Get the fuck out of my way, I’m looking for Steve Rogers.” You move to push past him, but he steps in your way again, hands lifting to grab you when a sound from behind stops the both of you.
“Vivi?”
“Steve.” You let out in some relief, and gesture to the man blocking your way. Steve stands behind the barman, clearly having just stepped out of the back office, and he eyes the two of you evenly.
“Go on, Frank, leave her alone… I don’t wanna be the one to patch you up if you don’t.” You smirk as the burly man reluctantly steps aside, and you straighten yourself as you begin moving toward the blond.
“To what do I owe the pleasure…?” He shoves both hands in his pockets and smiles down at you as you approach, but you can only let your face fall back into a glare as you remember why you came.
“I want to talk with you.”
Less than five minutes later, you’re sat across from Steve at his desk, two glasses of whiskey between you, and you throw yours back quickly. Steve follows the movement and with a slight smirk, he leans forward and refills your glass.
“What’s he up to?” You demand, and Steve’s eyebrows lift.
“What are yo—”
“—You know exactly what I’m talking about Rogers, don’t you dare bullshit me.” You warn, and the blond closes his mouth and sits back in his chair. For a moment he just looks you over, and you wonder what exactly he’s thinking.
“Where has the money come from? What the fuck kind of job has he taken on? Because I will not let him build up Ale’s hope that he’s gonna stick around, if in a year or so he’s got his ass thrown in prison!”
Steve lifts his hands in a calming motion then, and he sits forward again, relenting.
“Look, Viv, Buck has changed. Even I’ve noticed. Other people have noticed too…”
You frown at that and squint.
“This isn’t some petty thievery ring, alright?”
“What has he done?” You bite out each word and Steve lets out a sigh.
“Carlo Marinelli hired him. Bucky was his driver, nothing more. Then, six months ago, he busts into a meeting between some of the Dons, shoots dead an assassin and suddenly he’s Marinelli’s golden boy. Aside from me, that is…”
You feel your blood boil, a vein in your forehead ticking with each passing word.
“He’s… he’s involved with the Mafia?!”
Steve nods, and tips back his whiskey, quickly pours another, and tips that back too.
“Marinelli made him a caporegime. He’s uh… kind of important now…” Steve leans over and even though you hadn’t finished the last drink he poured for you, he fills up your glass more.
“That’s where the money has come from? The clothes, the car?” Steve nods. You’d known Steve through Bucky for years, the pair had been together when you’d first met Bucky, and after your estranged husband had gone off to fight, you’d heard rumours about Steve and the Mafia. You knew they had to be true, because why else would he be running a known mob joint? The guy who’d ran Valentino’s before Steve had disappeared years ago.
“Is he in trouble?” You ask suddenly, and Steve blinks, looks as though that wasn’t the question he’d been expecting.
“Trouble?”
“Is he going to get arrested? Or is he… will somebody take the fall…?” You don’t know how any of it works, not really. The truth was, you’d grown up around mafiosos and the like. Your father had moved your family from Sicily when you were eight, to help his boss get established in New York, but your mother had left him shortly after.
You knew enough, but the intricacies and relationships of the members still eluded you. Steve cracks a knowing smile then, and shakes his head.
“Not unless he’s really, really stupid. Marinelli likes him. Trust me, he’s basically untouchable.”
Steve insists on calling you a cab home, and you sit in the backseat staring out the window. The rain had just started when you’d left Valentino’s and you find yourself tracing each droplet’s path down your window until you’ve pulled up along your curb and you’re forced to get out.
Climbing the stairs slowly, your mind feels blank and distant and when you’ve finally shut your apartment door behind you, the clicking of the locks seem to snap you free of your daze.
Fine. If Bucky wanted to be a part of the mob, he could be.
You didn’t care.
—-
“You’re kidding?!” Sam pouts, looking up at Steve who stands in the doorway with a hand on his hip and another running through his hair.
“She’s barely able to get out of bed…” Steve confirms, and Bucky eyes him at the worry behind his voice.
“Steve, if you wanna bail, I’ll call—”
“—No. Sharon will be fine. Besides, she would kick my ass if I went to look after her instead of doing this.”
Bucky stares at him for a moment longer but nods.
“Alright, well, we need to figure something else out then. Sharon was an important part of this job… ideas?”
“We could put Steve in a dress.” Sam shrugs and Bucky snorts.
“Yeah, I’m sure that’ll work… any other ideas?” The three men fall silent for a moment, and they look around the room at each other. On the table between Sam and Bucky were pages of blueprints, time sheets and schedules, bullets, guns.
Tonight’s job was supposed to be a breeze, once Sharon got the manager into his office, they’d pounce and squeeze the safe combination out of him… the only hitch was that without her, they had little opportunity to get in the door.
“I do have an idea… but you probably won’t like it…” Steve says quietly a few minutes later. Bucky looks over at him, frowning.
He’s still frowning ten minutes later, with the phone to his ear and his two companions waiting eagerly. The ringing tone falters for a moment, and then your voice greets him.
“Hello, Vissenta Salvati.”
“Since when did you stop using my last name?!” Bucky demands, unable to stop himself, and he hears a pause on the other end before you scoff.
“When you pawned our wedding rings and never bought them back, stronzo. What the fuck do you want?”
Bucky flounders for a moment, and glares.
He’d forgotten about that particular mark on his pre-war personality. He’d needed the money for gambling, he’d been so sure he was gonna win big…
“I have a favour to ask…”
“The answer is no.”
“Hear me out! I… I’m running a job tonight, the safe in the manager's office at the Bluebell Club… but our gal’s sick. She was supposed to get the manager into the backroom for us…” You stay silent for a long time. Bucky knew you knew what he did now, Steve had confessed that he’d told you everything, but he’d never spoken to you directly about it, nor had you ever brought it up.
“No. I have a baby to look after and far better things to be doing.” You reply shortly. Bucky opens his mouth to plead back when Steve signals for him to hand the phone over.
“Vi? It’s Steve.”
“The answer is still no.”
“I know you’re working tonight, Winnie’s already watching Ale. Trust me, do this for us and I’ll make sure to cut you in decent.”
Bucky frowns in confusion at Steve and purses his lips. How did Steve know what your schedule was, when you were working? And why had he not known his Ma was watching Ale?
He listens as Steve seems to hum and answer a few yes or no questions, before he throws Sam and Bucky a thumbs up.
“Alright. Bucky’ll be by around seven to pick you up.” He hangs up and Bucky cocks his head.
“How do you know what she’s up to?” The flare of jealousy doesn’t go missed, but Steve only rolls his eyes and waves him off.
“I’ve been helping Marinelli run half the businesses this side of town for years, I know who works where and when, that’s my job.”
Bucky calms some.
That made sense…
“I’m going to drop off Sharon’s things with Vi. You make sure you’re on time.” Steve points at him and it’s Bucky who rolls his eyes. When Steve has left the room, he settles back over his planning, double checking everything one last time and trying to distract himself from the fact that you had accepted a cut in on a job.
—-
You check your reflection once more, a little unsure of yourself. It had been stressed to you by Steve when he’d dropped off a box for you, that it was important you wore this dress and these jewels. You’re almost certain you don’t want to know why, but you’re sure it has something to do with whatever man you were going to have to pretend to flirt with tonight.
The deep blue silk fits you like a glove and falls all the way to the floor. Your waist was cinched and your back mostly on display, the scoop neck of the top mirrored even lower at the back.
You don’t let yourself wonder if the diamond necklace and matching earrings were real, it made you worry too much, so you’d continued doing your hair and makeup without another passing thought.
You twist in the mirror of your vanity, and purse your lips at the amount of skin on display from the back. It wasn’t as if it weren’t fashionable, you just weren’t sure you could get away with wearing it…
Your thoughts are muted however, by a swift knocking at the door, and you quickly grab your purse from the bed before making toward it. When it’s opened you have to pause for a moment, your breath hitching in your throat involuntarily at the sight before you.
Bucky looks rather magnificent in his tuxedo, pressed to perfection and pitch black. The lapels of his coat looked like silk, matching the sheen of his bowtie. He’d been looking away from the door when you’d opened it, and so when he does turn, lips pulled in a smile, you have to snap yourself out of your reverie.
“Well, look at you…” He preens, and you try not to let yourself feel like a teenage girl again. You knew better.
“I did my best.” You brush him off, but he doesn’t give in, stepping in toward you slightly.
“I’d say your best is pretty damn good, sweetheart…” You swallow, and tear your eyes from his to where he’s lifted a hand for you.
Gingerly, you place your own atop his and let your door lock behind you as you’re led from the apartment building.
Bucky opens the door of the car for you, and helps you inside, and you have to force yourself to focus. This wasn’t anything but a job. That was all. Anything else was just for show.
On the drive over, a man you’re introduced to as Sam shows you pictures and goes over your brief role in the escapade. You would lure the manager, one Sheldon Mays, into bringing you into his office, at which point Bucky and Steve would take over, they’d get the safe code from Mays and you would meet them back at the car, with Sam playing driver. It was simple enough, straightforward enough, you didn’t see how anything could go wrong.
You were mistaken, clearly.
Everything had gone perfect to start with, you’d caught the attention of Mays, and had easily endeared yourself to him. After that, it had only taken a few suggestive touches and words and you were clinging to his arm, giggling girlishly as he led you up some stairs and into a large, lavish office.
“This is where the magic happens, darling…” He says, spreading his arms and you turn to look at him, coy smile on your face as you flutter your eyelashes.
“It is.” You confirm. It wasn’t that hard for you to fake this level of flirtatiousness. Once upon a time, this had been the exact woman you were… Alluring and quick-witted. Now you were just annoyed.
Your eyes skip towards the door briefly as you situate yourself on the edge of the desk in the room, and Mays begins sauntering toward you.
Where were the boys? You had thought they were supposed to be waiting for you, hidden…?
“You’re just the prettiest dame I’ve ever seen… wrapped up all in silk, hmm?” You focus back on Mays as he nears, his hands gravitating toward your hips and you have to calm yourself. You place your hands on his chest, running them up and down for a moment.
“The prettiest?” You contend, and he hums, leaning his face closer to yours. You barely suppress the urge to dart back.
Where the hell were they?!
“The prettiest. I swear… Now, why don’t you let me unwrap my present, hmn?” His hands climb higher, skimming over your back and to the thin straps on your shoulders, hooking his fingers around them. You feel your heartbeat stutter, and suddenly, you realise something about the job has gone very, very wrong.
But you were still in the office. The only thing between you and the safe under the desk was this man and his code. You could salvage this, right?
It was that, or actually have sex with this man.
Steeling yourself, you take one last look at the door over his shoulder before you let your hands curl up around his neck. His fingers have drawn the straps of your dress over the curve of your shoulders now, and without warning, you quickly bring your knee up between your bodies, yanking his head down into it with a ‘crunch’ sound.
Mays gasps and splutters, stumbling back from you as you quickly hop down off the desk.
“What the fuck?!” His voice is stifled by the hand he holds over his nose and mouth, a thick smattering of blood clearly dripping from his nose. You watch him for a moment, to see how delayed he is, and when he seems to stay put, groaning and whining, you quickly circle the desk, pulling open whatever draws you can see, until you find it.
You lift the gun easily, despite the foreign feeling of it in your hand, and step back around.
“The combination to your safe?!” You demand, and finally, Mays straightens some, confusion still clouding his bloodied features as he blinks at you.
“What the fuck?!” He repeats again, looking around as if there were others in the room, but as you were already painfully aware of, there wasn’t.
“The combination to your fucking safe, or I’ll shoot you in the cock!” You growl, moving near again, and Mays flinches.
“Lady, if it’s money you want, I’ll give you money, but that safe only has—” You flick the safety off and aim at his crotch. He yelps a little and attempts to shield it.
“Okay! Fine! Fine! It’s eight-four-one-nine!”
Adrenaline fuels you and you get an idea.
“You do it.”
“What?”
“Open the fucking safe idiota!”You wave the gun at him and he relents, keeping his hands out where you can see them as you follow him behind the desk, watch as he rolls up an area of carpet.
“Hurry up.” You snap, nervous energy filling you now. What would happen if you were caught? What were you going to do with Mays? You couldn’t just let him go…
You jump a mile, almost yelping when the office door barges open, and you raise the gun to whoever it is, your eyes wide and panicked. You’re met with the sight of Steve and Bucky, both a little worse for wear, and you wonder if the bruises and cut lips are why they’re late. You’re willing to bet it is.
“What the— Vivi…?” Bucky lowers his weapon when he spies you behind the desk, Mays on his knees before you. Despite your anxiety and your worry, you give him an annoyed look and shrug.
“You took too long… Did you really think I was gonna fuck this sap?” You tap Mays with the barrell of the gun, and he jumps, but continues hurriedly inputting the safe code.
Steve and Bucky quickly step inside, shutting the door behind them and moving over to you.
“There was an incident in the—”
“—Later, Buck.” Steve cuts him off, and grabs Mays by the collar as the door to the safe finally pops open. You watch him shove the man roughly toward a lounge in the corner, but let your eyes turn back to the contents of the safe, narrowing them when you see.
“What the fuck is this?” You demand, not a single dollar note in sight, but Bucky doesn’t seem fazed, he simply leans in and grabs the stack of papers, flicking through them.
“They’re bills of sale, for horses, houses, establishments.”
You splutter.
“Horses?! Horses?!”
Bucky looks up at you then, understanding on his face as he grabs another stack, handing them to you.
“We get these to our guys, this turns into gold. Trust me.”
You frown, but say no more as you watch Bucky grab the last pile of pages.
“Steve?” He says, and the blond gives him a curt nod.
“I’ll follow you out.”
Slight confusion colours you, but Bucky has gently taken you by the arm, and led you from the office before you can ask. He doesn’t take you down the way you’d come in, instead you end up exiting into an alleyway, making quickly for the car.
Steve joins you shortly after, climbing into the backseat, squishing you into the middle, between Bucky and him. You watch as Steve casually hands his gun to Bucky, who in turn, tosses it out the window once you’ve made it several blocks away.
Nobody really says much until you’re back at what you assumed to be Bucky’s new apartment, and you stand by the kitchen window, cigarette burning away in your fingers as you peek into the next room. There had been a group of men waiting when you’d returned, older looking men, and Sam had ushered you off to the kitchen to wait.
But through the open doorway, you can see the men counting through the slips of paper, clips of money being placed and moved over different piles, and you wonder what it all means.
You see Bucky pointing at people and papers, his voice low and commanding and despite yourself, it sends a shiver down your spine. You’d never really seen him so assertive or serious, and even if he was involved with organised crime, the clear ambition and talent he has for it makes your belly flop.
You see him lean forward to point at something on the table, explaining something you can’t hear, but in that moment he happens to look up and catch your eye.
Swallowing harshly, you move from your place to the other end of the kitchen, and wait, skin feeling too warm.
Bucky drives you back, the whole car ride tense and hot. When he turns onto your street, you direct him to a side alley by your building, where no one would see you arriving home so late with a man. He doesn't argue that he’s still technically your husband, and you’re glad for it.
“You were incredible, Vi, you saved this job…” Bucky begins once the car is off, darkness engulfing the interior of the vehicle. You look over at him.
“Somebody had to.” You snark, but it's half hearted. You know it. He knows it.
“Never thought I’d see you holding a gun.” He continues, and you have to laugh.
“If you’re lucky, it’ll be the last time.”
Bucky stares at you in the dark of the car, his eyes big and soft and you feel your chest thump. He leans over to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and you let him, eyes lingering for a moment on his hand.
How you end up on the backseat, you have no idea.
Your dress has been pulled up around your waist, probably like Mays had wanted to do to you earlier, your thighs spread wide over Bucky’s lap. You have your hands set on the seat behind his shoulders, helping you move, his hand grasping roughly at your hip as you bounce desperately on his cock.
“Holy fuck, jesus christ, you feel so good darlin’.” Bucky mutters, strained, lips pressed to your breast, but he adjusts himself and takes your nipple into his mouth, once more making you moan, one of your hands flying to clutch at the back of his head.
You hadn’t had sex in so long, and despite all his shortcomings, Bucky always knew exactly how to love you, always knew your body better than anyone else ever could. You cuss sharply when he slides down in his seat more, feet now flat to the ground, and rolls his hips up to meet yours. Your hand in his hair tightens, pulling on the short strands and you feel his chuckle dance across your skin.
“Like that, baby? Right there?” He punctuates himself with a deep thrust that sends you scrambling for a hold, and you end up with a hand pressed to the ceiling, the other held to the car seat behind you, for better leverage to ride him.
“Uh-huh! Per favore non fermarti, continua, non smettere di scoparmi! (Please don't stop, keep going, don't stop fucking me)” You ramble, eyes squeezing shut, tongue reverting back to what you know best. You feel your orgasm coming, right under the surface of your skin you can feel the prickling sensation.
Bucky makes a sound halfway between a groan and a growl, and without warning, your chin is grabbed roughly, yanked down to his face and he kisses you open mouthed, wet and warm, his tongue sliding all over yours, making your stomach turn to mush.
“Fuck, I love hearing you speak like that,” He tells you, cussing under his breath.
“Dimmi quanto lo vuoi tesoro, hmn? Tell me how good it feels honey…”
You gasp sharply at the sound of Bucky’s voice rolling over your shared language, the words sending you tumbling over the edge into bliss.
You shake in his hold, clutching onto his shoulders as you ride it out. Bucky groans beneath you, panting and huffing to himself as he thrusts deep once, twice, three times more before you feel the warmth bloom inside you.
Maybe you should have been angry or annoyed he’d not pulled out, but absently you roll your hips against his, and you’re quickly too distracted by the pleasant sensation of dripping with his cum to care.
When you’ve tidied yourself up, Bucky wraps his jacket around your shoulders and draws you near with his fingers under your chin once more. He presses his lips to yours firmly, and you can’t stop yourself from giving in.
Right when you think he may push you back and fuck you again, he pulls away and presses a kiss to your forehead.
“I love you, Vivi.” A lump rises in your throat, wanting to force its way out of you, but you swallow it back.
You watch from your kitchen window as his car pulls out of the alley, and disappears down the street.
—-
The Bluebell Club job is the first, but not the last time you get involved with Bucky’s business. As he works his way up within The Family, he brings you with him.
You put your foot down about the dangerous things, but every so often Steve or Sam call you up, needing information on a location. It usually just required you making an outing to whatever store or business they were planning on hustling, taking note of if they had any security, or what the layout was, where certain offices might be. It was good money, better than the waitressing or maid work you’d been doing for five years.
As for Bucky…
You don’t welcome him back, not entirely. He still comes every weekend to see your boy, occasionally invites you along too. Despite the fact he seems to be physically around less, busy with work, he was reliable in ways you’d never known him to be. If you called, he was there, and if he was busy, he’d send somebody around.
The first time a scrappy young kid showed up at your door, an apology ready on his lips about how ‘Mr Barnes was in a meeting taking longer than usual but he sent me to throw the ball with Ale’, you’d not be pleased. But Peter, as you’d found out his name was, was a good kid. Bucky had shown up halfway through the evening anyway, still in his fancy suit, but you’d watched from the window as he’d played ball anyway.
Today though, the visit is entirely unplanned and you purse your lips at the man who leans against his car, smiling pleasantly at you as you cautiously approach. You’d been readying yourself and Ale for a grocery trip, seeing Bucky outside your apartment was not expected in the slightest. Ale tugs on your hand when he notices his father, and you only resist for a minute before you let him fly toward him, arms out.
“Daddy!” He exclaims. You watch Bucky catch him one armed, a greeting you don’t exactly hear passing between the two before your estranged husband’s eyes are back on you.
“What are you doing here?” You barely refrain from crossing your arms over your chest, and Bucky adjusts Ale on his hip, cocks his head at you charmingly.
“I wanted your opinion on something.” He says, and you wave a hand.
“What?”
“You have to come with me to see it.” He’s being cryptic, and it strikes a cord of annoyance in you. You scoff.
“As if I have fuck all to do today that I can just drop everything to come with you somewhere?!” You usually tried to behave more civil when Ale was around, you didn’t want your attitude with Bucky to sour his opinion of his father.
Bucky rolls his eyes at your bluster, and steps around to open the back door of the car for Ale, letting him climb in.
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important…” You purse your lips again and shake your head at the fact you move forwards anyway, ignoring the helping hand Bucky offers as you too slide into the backseat. You’re forced to keep moving along the plush leather seating however, as you realise a second later that Bucky also follows you inside, and it's then you realise his car was being driven by someone else.
You help Ale with his belt, before doing your own, and stay quiet on the short drive, listening absently as Ale and Bucky discuss sports and his schooling. When the car slows to a stop eventually, you can’t help but peer up in concealed awe at the magnificent townhouses and homes that surround you.
You certainly weren’t in your neighbourhood of Brooklyn anymore, the streets here clean and tidy, with trees lining the road. You keep your awe to yourself even as Bucky helps you out of the car, and you pull your son closer, holding tight to him in the unfamiliar environment.
Bucky leads you up to the open front door of an ornate brownstone house, it's windows shiny and clean, the stoop free of debris of any kind. It looked like the set of a film, you think.
When you’re standing in the foyer, Ale’s big eyes looking around curiously, Bucky makes a wide gesture and grins at you.
“What do you think?”
“What do I think?” You repeat, completely unsure of what you think. Bucky nods.
“You want my opinion on a house you want to buy?” You lift a brow.
Bucky nods again, and extends his hand to lead you into the living space, already furnished rather simply and you take initiative in moving from room to room, inspecting the home.
Secretly, you are rather impressed. The size of the dining room must fit your entire apartment inside, and when you chase Ale up to the second floor you discover more rooms and bedrooms and offices than you can think of things to fill them with. The third floor holds it's own master bedroom and bathroom, and for a very small second, you get rather jealous at Bucky’s good fortune to be able to afford a whole house such as this.
“What do you think?” He asks again, a little quieter, and you watch Ale run from the main room one more, lost in his own game as he dives under the table. You swallow and eye him evenly.
“It’s alright. A little too big, though I suppose if you’re going to have all your goons stay with you that’s alright.” You tip your nose up just a little, and Bucky chuckles, rubbing his neck.
“Well, I’m glad you like it. I already bought it.” The words hang in the air for a moment, before you catch on them properly and you lower your chin, narrowing your eyes at him.
“Then what the hell am I even here for?!” Annoyance bubbles in you once more and doubles when you see Bucky clearly unphased by it.
“I bought it for you.” He says simply and your face falls blank.
You blink at him, opening your mouth and closing it again.
“Fuck off.” You scoff at last, turning away from him and folding your arms over your chest, but quickly unfold them when he doesn’t laugh or give up on the joke.
“Like hell you bought me a house!”
Bucky stays silent still and you feel your body begin to thrum with nervous energy.
He wouldn’t do that, would he? Why would he buy you a house?
When you look back at him he’s standing quietly in the center of the room, watching you patiently.
“You didn't!” You insist, taking a step toward him, and he only nods his head once.
“I did.”
“Why?!”
He laughs then, a soft pleasant sound that makes your tummy flop around like a fish in a bucket.
“Because I love you? Because I want you and Ale to live somewhere nicer than a piss stained apartment? Because I can? Do I need to list more reasons?”
You shut your mouth, and attempt to ignore his casual proclamation of love, looking around once more, seeing the place in a whole new light.
It was lovely, truly, and seeing as it hadn’t cost you a penny, you could hardly complain. Your mind starts to rush with all the ways you could make this a home; a new rug, a different colour scheme of course… perhaps you’d invite Winnie and Becca to live here, to fill out some of the space, if Bucky hadn’t already bought them a bloody house too.
But you harden a little, narrowing your eyes once more as you focus in on your estranged husband.
“Where will you live, because you can’t just buy me a house and expect to—”
“— I have a house.” He cuts you off and you stop, staring.
“So this is… what? All for me?” You half-scoff again, expecting him to spring the joke on you once more, but he doesn’t. He only nods.
“Do you like it? I-if not, we can find something else. I—”
Your heart quickens at his anxiety and you realise you really haven’t been very grateful. Swallowing your pride, you cross the room and stiffly place a kiss to his cheek.
“I do like it. Very much. Thank you.” You step away again as Ale enters the room, and before you scoop him up, you spy Bucky standing still on the spot, looking rather bashful.
“Guess what, bambino? Qui è dove vivremo!”
“Qui!? It’s so nice Mama!”
“It is. Now go thank daddy.”
—-
The move in is rather easy, seeing as most of your furniture was crappy enough to be replaced anyway, and with Bucky’s small army of suited-mobsters, the task is over and dealt with quickly.
To your chagrin, Bucky insists on at least one (but usually two or three) of his men staying at the house at all times, and the argument you have about it, it's the only time you haven’t seen him back down.
Usually Bucky gave in to you, whether that be because he was going to anyway, or because of your anger, but this time, he puts his foot down. He doesn’t quite yell, but he raises his voice enough over yours to make you fall silent, and while you know you should have been pissed off, all you can think about is how wet it makes you.
You let him fuck you on the desk in the office you’d set up, and you find you don’t mind submitting to him when he’s so assertive like this.
You sleep together more often, usually at his own home, occasionally at yours, but he never stays the night, nor would you be comfortable for him to. He’d made a lot of amends but there’s still something in your chest that aches whenever you look at him, a hurt not yet undone.
The trust he shows in you however, makes your chest ache in different ways. The higher he and Steve move in the mob, he brings you with him, asking you to scout places, bringing you onboard for planning. He listens to you, trusts you. That's more than he ever had before the war.
You bring your mind back to the present when a glass clinks in front of you, and you give Steve a thankful nod, before turning back into the situation at hand.
“We go in by the end of the week, the six of us, hit the safe and the lockbox and—”
“—The end of this week? That’s suicide, They have extra family in town, the place is packed out full of guards!” You cut off the mobster sitting across from you at Bucky’s kitchen table, a tall but stock man named Rollins, his hair slicked back in an almost greasy manner.
For the most part, Bucky’s men were alright, but some of them you had to wonder about…
You were currently gathered to go over the information for a hit on Irish turf. You’d finished giving your assessment of the building some time ago, and it was time for the others to propose their takes. Rollins looks at you, annoyance barely contained on his face, he doesn’t reply to you directly however, turning back toward Bucky who sits at the head of the table.
“If we miss this week, the lockbox changes hands and it’s a whole new mess of scouting out.”
“And if we go this week half of us are going to die!” You repeat once again. Bucky’s eyes swivel to you, and you can see he’s a little bored, mostly tired. Rollins scoffs this time and does address you, waving a hand toward you.
“‘Us’? Lady, you just write down security placements, you ain’t involved in this.”
Your anger flares up and you open your mouth.
“She contributes more than you do, shit-for-brains.” Sam speaks before you get a word out, and you shoot him a grateful look. Rollins waves him off like he did you and looks back to Bucky.
“Boss, you ain’t actually gonna listen to a fuckin’ housewife over me are you?”
You freeze for a moment, realising aside from Steve and Sam, all these guys thought very little little of you, and Bucky could well risk his reputation in backing you up. If he didn’t however, the embarrassment and humiliation would burn.
You aren’t sure you’d ever want to see him again.
Bucky shifts in his seat, and looks between you and Rollins for a moment, before he sighs.
“Vivi, are you sure?”
You feel yourself perk up, your whole body lighting with anticipation and glee and you nod.
“I am. Better to wait it out and have things go smoothly.” There’s another pause, Bucky strokes his chin thoughtfully before he nods.
“We’ll wait.” He says, only a tiny wave of stifled grumbles echoing around the table as the plans and maps are folded and packed up once again. Bucky leans forward though, slapping his hand down over a page Rollins is attempting to take, forcing the other man to look up at him.
“And that’s my fuckin’ housewife, so watch your fuckin’ mouth, huh?” He smacks the other man upside the head and you lean back in your chair, taking the glass of whiskey Steve had pushed toward you earlier, watching as the room slowly clears of people.
Bucky stays in his seat, looking over a few pages in front of him. He all but ignores you, which is fine, as you down the whiskey in one, and listen out for the door to shut with some finality.
You know much like your own home, there were people guarding Bucky’s at all times, so gently pushing back your chair, your move to the kitchen door, shutting it with a click. Bucky looks up then, as if he really hadn’t realised you were still in the room, and you feel the warmth from the whiskey and his words fill your bones as you slink toward him.
“Want me to call Peter to drive you back?” He asks, looking back to his pages. You shake your head, even though he isn’t looking at you, and when you near him, you sink down to your knees. He looks up again, surprise clear on his face as he blinks down at you, your hands travelling over the tops of his thighs and he clears his throat.
“Vivi, I—”
“Pull your chair out.” Whatever he was going to say is forgotten, and he scoots his chair out fully from the table, giving you proper access as you settle between his thighs. Arousal is clear on his face, in the way he watches you keenly, and in his pants, in the way they bulge slightly in the front. He places down the pages in his hands on the table, shifting to lean back ever so slightly in his seat.
“Viv…?” He starts to ask again, but it ends in a sharp, strangled breath as you lean over him, pressing your mouth to the hardness bulging in the front of his trousers. Saliva wets a patch into the material, and he twitches beneath your lips.
“J-jesus, fuck,” Bucky scrambles for his belt, and you help him, smiling to yourself, keeping his eye contact even as he blinks and looks away, a blush high on his cheeks.
You pull his pants down just enough, and quickly sink your mouth over his cock. Bucky releases a deep groan, and you watch as his head tips back, his mouth hanging open. You keep watching him as you begin to bob quickly, letting your hand wrap around the base of him. You care little for aesthetics or how loud either of you are, you let the spittle and pre-cum mix together in sloppy wet sounds as you hungrily all but devour him.
“Shit sweetheart, shit,” He finally gets a hold of himself enough to watch you, groaning as he focuses on the sight of your lips wrapped around his cock, moving quickly, your eyes keeping sight of him, and it's obvious to him you’re working to please. Your hands press against his thighs, spread wide and open and Bucky doesn’t think he knows a better sight than you in front of him, his cock stretching your lips wide, your eyes stuck on him as you swallow him deep.
His hand falls into your hair, caressing and gentle at first, but he pushes it back, holds it away from your face and gets a grip closer to your scalp. He guides your face, grunting softly as you let him move you how he wants, and he meets your lips with little thrusts.
“La tua bocca è così bella, tesoro, così fottutamente buona…” He feels you moan around him and he hisses, releasing your face.
“Keep going baby, s’all yours, keep going.” He leans over your slightly, enough to get his hand to the front of your dress, careful to pull each button apart and not break any, thankful when you helpfully pull your arms from the fabric, and undo your own bra.
His hand finds a breast easily, squeezing the flesh as he relaxes again, letting you work him over how you please as he fondles your chest. God, he loved your tits, wishes he had two arms still for the sole purpose of squeezing both at once. He lets his thumb and forefinger find your nipple, pinches harshly, enough to make you jolt, enough to make you elicit another moan around his cock, and Bucky gasps, loves that sensation.
Your eyes find each other again and Bucky licks his lips slightly, lets his head fall back comfortably as you start sucking harder on him. He’s close, knows you can tell. He keeps your nipple in his fingers, plays with the pebbled flesh, pinches and pulls at it, softly, punishingly, he knows you like it all…
His orgasm rises quickly, and falls over him suddenly, and he gives your chest a last final tug as he rides his pleasure out, spills against your tongue. He feels you swallow around him repeatedly, dragging out the sensitivity until he’s shaking.
His hands clutch at the chair arms, and as you pull away, you swipe around your mouth with your thumb, cleaning any obvious signs of what you’d just done. Bucky blinks lazily down at you, his chest still heaving with effort, though he still wears an expression of stunned surprise. You lean over him, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear.
“Lavaggio. Ale ti aspetta a cena.” You tell him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.
You leave him there, in his kitchen, pants around his ankles, cock softening in his lap, his eyes following you out.
—-
You look over the top of your sunglasses, up at the buttercream coloured walls and terracotta tiled roof of the villa before you and try to hold back your awe. Nestled in the Sicilian countryside, against the rolling hills of the vineyards surrounding you, you don’t think you’d ever seen anything quite as beautiful, not since you were a child.
The car boot slamming shut reminds you of your company, and you turn just as Bucky sets Ale on the pebbled driveway, and he skitters his way across the stones to grab your hand, hanging off of you, but you don’t mind.
“Mama, Daddy said you grew up here!” He gushes excitedly, his gaze switching between you and the large villa in front of you. Sparing a glance back to Bucky who has now moved to help one of the guards with the bags, you hitch your purse a little higher on your shoulder before leaning down to pick your boy up, shifting him to one hip as you take the first few tentative steps toward the open front door.
“Not here exactly, mi amore. But near here.” You step through into the main foyer of the home and are immediately greeted with the gathered housekeepers who greet you kindly. You’d been informed that only the maid and the chef were permanent residents. You introduce yourself and your son to them in turn, encouraging Ale to speak his best Italian, though his shyness gets the better of him, even though you can see he is intrigued by the new people.
The maid directs you upstairs to the bedrooms, upon asking if Ale would like to see the toybox, and you follow gratefully, peeking behind you when Bucky begins following with your son's bags.
“Can we go to your house?!” Ale asks a small amount of time later, when you’re sitting on the bed watching him play with some wooden toys, and the maid places his clothes from his bags into the cupboards.
“My house?” You question, before remembering his query from when you’d arrived, and you clear your throat, Bucky appearing at the doorway. He leans against it casually with his one arm, the prosthetic he’d been gifted by Don Marinelli looking like he simply had his hand tucked into his pocket. You shift your eyes back to your boy as he crawls closer to you, rolling the wooden car over the tops of your knees on it’s journey.
“My home isn’t there anymore, Ale. It was destroyed.” You say, trying to remain objective about it. It wasn’t as though you spent very long in Italy. Brooklyn was more home for you than Sicily, and yet you still feel some sadness creep into your voice at the thought of your childhood town, bombed out and raided by soldiers of both sides. The damage had been so bad they’d decided to rebuild the town a few miles over instead, the local Don helping to fund most of that, of course.
Don Regio was the brother-in-law to Marinelli, and ran operations out here in Sicily. When Marinelli had decided to vacation to his homeland for the Christmas period, he’d invited Bucky along with him, and in turn, Bucky had insisted you all go. You think perhaps he’d wanted to let you come home, and introduce your son to his roots, but aside from that, you don’t know why he’d insisted so hard you come along.
Still, it was more or less a free trip, and you hadn’t had a holiday in your life, so you’d given in with little thought.
“Ale, why don’t you play with Miss Gianna for a while and let Mama unpack her things?” Bucky speaks up then, nodding toward the maid, who happily kneels down to pluck one of the other toys from the pile on the floor, and soon you’re quickly forgotten. You watch for a moment longer before leaving the room.
It takes you a moment to orient yourself on the top floor of the manor. While the halls were open and let you see down to the lower level, you inspect the various rooms before finding one with your bag. Bucky pauses from where he had been trailing quietly behind you, sensing your discomfort, and immediately steps forward, eyes scanning. Your chest flutters slightly at how attuned he was to you, and how he’d moved to take care of the issue right away, only he too freezes when he sees it.
Your eyes swing to him and from side on you can see the bob in his Adam's apple when he swallows, quickly turning to face you.
“I didn’t— I didn’t put our bags together… one of Regio’s men must have…” He trails off, gesturing back to the stairs, where no doubt your own guard and Don Regio’s loned man must have been taking a check of the house.
You look away from him and back to the bags on the bed, yours on one side, and Bucky’s on the other. Even if you worked together and still remained in close contact, all your guys in New York knew the vague animosity between you and Bucky. They wouldn’t have ever assumed you’d share a room.
Lifting your chin slightly, you shrug as casually as you can muster and move forward.
“It’s a mistake. That’s all.” You take your bags, trying not to let the weight visibly trouble you, and quickly abscond from the room as quick as you can. Bucky is moving behind you, quickly following you as you return to one of the guest rooms you’d spied earlier, a little too late to help you with your bags, even though he holds out his hand as if to do so. You deposit them on your new bed.
“You can have the master room, if you’d like, I will—”
“It’s fine, Bucky. This way I am closer to Ale if he needs anything.” You stare at each other for a moment, and even though a warm breeze blows through the open windows and arches of the villa, you feel a slight shiver down your spine.
In his smart summer suit, skin lightly tanned and his beard a little thicker than usual thanks to the days of travel you’d endured, Bucky looks fine, broad and tall and handsome and you have to push the idea of sharing a bed with him aside. You hadn’t done that since before the war.
His eyes seem to flick over your sundress-clad figure the same way you’d been inspecting him, and after another beatm he simply lowers his head in confirmation, though his eyes don’t leave your face.
“If you prefer.” He says, shuffling and turning to step back out of the room, once again certain if the borders he was and was not allowed to cross. He turns though, and glances back inside at you, and then with an unreadable expression, cocks his head. But he doesn’t say anything, simply gives you a nod before he walks away. You purse your lips, but quickly go about unpacking your things, pushing all thoughts of him aside.
The next few days are filled with many visits to Don Regio and Marinelli’s house, for dinner and lunches and whatever else. There was little talk or discussion of business, which you were glad for, and you were even introduced to the various women of the family and their own children. It was so oddly normal that you begin to forget about the new work you’d endeared yourself to, and begin feeling like you really were just a normal family on holiday together.
Your good mood extends to Bucky too, even though you were far calmer around him now anyways, you don’t bristle or make corrections when one of the women refers to him as your husband in passing.
Christmas itself is an odd affair, with all three families gathering at Don Regio’s for lunch and dinner, presents and gifts and alcohol are passed around freely. Bucky had spoiled Ale all morning with his gifts. A new baseball glove and bat, a fishing rod so the two could fish together, various toys and baubles. You’d already agreed that you wouldn’t buy gifts for one another, but seeing your child so happy and blessed was a gift enough.
It isn’t until well into the night that you finally return home. Bucky carries Ale’s sleeping form back into the villa, and you take the moment to kick your shoes off in your bedroom, before going to tuck him in too.
Your footsteps are quiet on the stone floors, and as you near Ale’s open door you hear soft talking. Creeping closer, you pause by the doorway, just out of sight, but peek your head in enough to see Bucky sitting on the edge of the bed, Ale all snuggled up but his hands holding onto his father’s.
“Did you want to go away?” Ale asks, and you realise you’ve walked in on a conversation in progress. Bucky shakes his head.
“No, sweetheart. But I had to. I got into trouble and to make it right, I had to go be a soldier for a while.”
“That’s why Mama is always mad at you? Cause you had to go be a soldier?”
Your heart skips a beat at the question and you duck back out of sight, listening carefully to Bucky’s reply.
“No, tesoro. Your Mama is mad at me because I wasn’t very nice for a long time.”
“But I think you’re nice, Daddy!” Ale protests, and you hear Bucky chuckle.
“Maybe now. But before you were born, I was mean. I didn’t take care of her very well. Your Mama was always trying to help me stay out of trouble and I didn’t listen to her.”
You swallow and hear some shuffling of sheets before he continues.
“And when you were born, I should have been around more, but I wasn’t. And then I was gone for a very long time.” The pure sorrow you hear in Bucky’s voice makes your chest and head hurt, and you almost walk away, but your body seems frozen in place.
“I haven’t been a very good father to you, Ale, but I want you to know that there wasn’t a day when I was away that I didn’t think about you or your mama. I love you so much, sei tutto il mio mondo.”
“Ti voglio bene anche io, papà. Non voglio che te ne vada di nuovo…!” Ale’s reply makes Bucky chuckle, but you can see the sad smile on his face in your mind’s eye. You hear the sound of a kiss.
“I won’t. But I have to ask buddy, will you forgive me? For everything?”
“Of course, daddy!”
You have to quietly suck back a breath, and you start away from the door, needing to compose yourself before you see Ale or Bucky.
By the time you make it back to your son’s room, Bucky is gone, and Ale has drifted off, so you simply kiss his head, and adjust his blankets.
You’ve just finished changing into your nightgown when a soft knocking at your door disturbs you, and you look toward the open doorway, half expecting your boy, but instead you find Bucky.
He wears only his trousers and dress shirt, suspenders hanging around his waist and a few of the buttons undone, as if he’d come to see you halfway through getting undressed.
“Yes?”
“I…. I know we said we weren’t going to buy each other gifts…” He begins, and you straighten, feeling your brow fall into a light frown. You’d feel bad if he’d gone and got you something anyway, when you really hadn’t bought him a thing. Bucky holds out his hand toward you, and in it, a small box. It isn’t wrapped, but you don’t blame him seeing as you know he struggled with tasks like that.
Eyeing him cautiously, you step toward him, plucking the box from his fingers gingerly.
“I didn’t get you anything.”
“That’s alright. Go on, open it.” He nods to the box and you feel a strange rush of excitement. It was clearly a jewellery box, and as you pull the lid up, your heart stops beating entirely in your chest.
You stare down at the two golden rings, unable to process or think for several moments as you stare at them.
“I… They’re not the rings… I couldn’t find them but… I should never have pawned them in the first place… and I just wanted you to have them back in some way.” Bucky speaks softly, and you finally tear your eyes away from the bands to stare at him instead, your mouth still unable to form coherent words.
“I—” You swallow thickly, blinking back tears that you refuse to let him see.
“Thank you.” You manage, clearing your throat, and shutting the lid of the box again. Bucky watches you carefully, and then with a few short steps, leans close to press a gentle kiss to your cheek.
“I’m sorry, Vivi.” He says, but all you can bring yourself to do is nod.
He doesn’t linger, bidding you goodnight quickly, and you’re left alone, standing with the ring box clutched tightly in your hands.
You decide then, that you never want to hear him apologise again.
—-
You return to New York in the new year, and things once again settle back into their normal place. You take on a new project for Marinelli, helping set up a new casino to funnel money through and by the time opening night rolls around, you’re rather excited about the whole thing.
Downstairs, patrons are only just beginning to enter, but up in the office, you watch Don Marinelli pop open a bottle of champagne, pouring four glasses. He offers the first to you, and you take it gratefully, watching Steve and Bucky take their own as you all toast.
“Well, I’d say you’ve done a fine job, Miss Salvati. The floor looks classy, and the furnishings are only that what a woman could pick. Well done.” You duck your head gracefully and sip your drink.
“Thank you, Don. It has been a pleasure.” And it had. Dealing in work that was mostly legitimate had been nice for once.
“I hope so. Otherwise you’ll hate me.”
You frown at that and shoot Bucky a questioning glance.
“I’m putting you in charge.” Marinelli says, and you freeze.
You? In charge of the casino?! You’d been under the impression you were simply organising it’s decor and opening party, not that you would be managing the establishment!
“I—”
“—Of course Steve will help you settle in for the next little while, until you learn the ropes. But I don’t doubt you’ll make me lots of money.”
You look between all the men in the room, and you see the momentary surprise on Bucky’s face for a second before he schools it.
“Thank you sir! I won’t let you down!” You let the older man pull you in, kissing both of each other’s cheeks, before he downs the rest of his glass.
“Come Steve, let’s join the rabble, shall we?” Marinelli beckons Steve out of the office, and after a quick congratulatory kiss on the cheek from the blond, he follows his boss out the door, closing it behind him.
You look around the manager's office, realising now that all this was yours, and you too down the rest of your glass.
“I… I can’t believe it…” You mutter, turning to face where Bucky stands, a small smile pulled across his cheeks. He shrugs.
“Marinelli has always liked you.”
“You didn’t know?”
“No clue.” You turn back around to inspect the furnishings you’d put there, and in a moment of girlish excitement, you round the desk and take a seat.
Bucky watches you, amusement clear on his features, and he places his champagne down, stepping around the large, ornate desk.
“Congratulations, sweetheart.” He says softly, and you can’t even help yourself from shooting him a grin as you stand once more, now rearranging a few things to how you’d like them. Bucky steps beside you, and you pause when he covers your hand on a paperweight with his own, stopping you to turn you around.
Nervousness overcomes you then, as he steps even closer, backing you against the desk.
“We should… join the party…” You begin, but his hand is already trailing down to the front of your dress, and you follow the movement with your eyes as he begins to gather the fabric up, your breath hitching when he drops to his knees.
You don’t need encouragement to wiggle back onto the desk slightly, widening your thighs as he slips between them, one finger pulling your panties to the side as he leans in.
“Party’s right here as far as I’m concerned…”
You bury your hand in his hair as the first flicks of his tongue over your folds make you gasp, tightening your grip when he nestles in closer, lips working you over quickly.
You shake in his hold as he licks over you like a man starved, covering your mouth with your free hand as you begin to twitch under him.
“Buck! Don’t stop!” You warn pointlessly, feeling how he focuses his mouth around your clit sucking and running his tongue over it in motions until you’re crying out, gripping his hair harshly as your hips tremble against his face.
When he pulls back, he looks proud, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe over his mouth and chin with. You attempt to get your breathing under control, but only a second later, he’s leaning in, kissing you open mouthed, your taste still on his tongue. You’re prepared to climb further back on your desk, and let him fuck you when a knock at your offcie door startles you apart.
“What is it?” Bucky calls out, annoyed, and there’s a pause before the answer comes.
“There’s a situation at the door!” The reply comes through and you and Bucky both share a look.
You fix yourselves quickly, and seeing as this was your club now, you follow Bucky out through the throngs of happy customers, to the main entrance. You can see Steve already out front, his shoulders squared, and you’re only stepping around him, about to ask what the issue is when a deafening bang echoes out. The first is followed by several more, but you don’t have a mind to keep count, somebody’s arm around your middle dragging you to the pavement, a heavy body almost crushing you as people gasp and scream.
The gunshots stop and as you orient yourself, you see a man run down the street, before he ducks inside a dark car, Steve and some others chasing after him. You shift under the weight of the body on top of you and find Sam pulling himself up. You blink up at him in slight shock, even as Bucky makes his presence known.
“Baby? Baby are you alright?!” He’s got his hand on your face, his eyes running over your body and you nod, dazed.
“I’m— I’m fine— What—” He looks away, up at Sam, and you stop speaking.
“He was shooting at her!” He stresses, and the dark-skinned man nods, his eyes scanning the crowds as several other men begin to placate the people outside, promising free drinks as an apology. Bucky’s eyes swing back to you.
“I’ll find them, I swear to god.” He promises, and all you can do is nod as you’re gently helped to your feet.
After a short meeting with Marinelli and some others up in your office, Bucky holding his arm around you the whole time, you have Sam drive you home. All you wanted to do now was see your baby and forget all about your soured night.
Before you leave, Bucky kisses your forehead and once more promises to find the person responsible.
You go home and cry, and then when you’ve calmed down enough, you crawl into Ale’s bed, and hold him until you fall asleep.
You don’t see or hear from Bucky for several days, in which time you begin to worry. It isn’t until almost a week later you receive news that the gunman was found, and the boys were ‘seeing to him’ now. Relief fills your body at that, and even though you somewhat pity the man for what you know he’s likely to endure, you push all thoughts from your mind and go about your day as normally as you can.
You send word to Bucky’s home that he should come for dinner, but you get no reply, and tea time comes and goes without his appearance.
He doesn’t show up for another day, and when he does it’s almost three in the morning.
The loud knocking on your door is annoying enough, let alone when you pull it open to find a bleary-eyed, drunk Bucky, whiskey bottle still in hand. Your whole body tenses up and for a moment you think you’ve travelled back seven years, when he’d come home at all hours of the morning, drunk, sometimes beat up.
But something strikes you as different this time and you realise, when he chokes back a breath, that he’s crying.
“Bucky?”
“M’sorry.” He says, falling forwards, his arm thrown around your neck, and you barely have time to catch him, steadying him against you awkwardly.
“Bucky?!” Your voice is more panicked this time, but he only sobs into your shoulder.
“You could have died.” He rasps, and you feel some understanding settle over you.
You manage to pull back enough to look at his face, and take it in both your hands.
“I didn’t, I’m alright, see?” He half nods, but scrunches his eyes shut again as his breathing gets shallower and shallower, and you aren’t entirely sure if he’s actually taking in air anymore.
“Bucky? James, breathe! You need to breathe!” His knees seem to give out under him as the panic attack takes over, and you aren’t strong enough to hold him up, so you simply move with him to your foyer floor, taking a moment to shut your door behind him.
“Buck, come here, look at me, okay? I need you to breathe baby, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.” You hold his face again, and coo clamingly as he holds onto the front of your nightgown with one hand. When his eyes do open, he looks around wildly, and he seems distant.
“Viv?” He gasps, and you nod.
“Viv, I can’t— I can’t feel my arm!” He chokes out, panic and confusion in his voice and you realise that he’s not with you right now. He’s in Europe somewhere, bleeding and scared. He continues to ramble about his arm, calling for a medic, for any kind of help, and all you can do is hold him until he calms some, breathing heavily against your chest. You don’t realise you’ve been crying until you get him to follow you into your bathroom, and see yourself in the mirror briefly before you start the water.
Bucky doesn’t let you go, but you don’t plan on going far as he sits in the bath, his eyes empty and red, like he wasn’t there at all anymore. You wash him with hot water, dress him again, and put him to bed, lying close, stroking his hair gently as his breathing softens out.
You don’t sleep.
You let Bucky sleep in the next morning while you ready Ale for school, trying not to let visions of the night before haunt you, but you find yourself thinking back to Bucky’s harrowed calls for a medic, how his eyes seemed vacant except for when they seemed scared.
You’re relieved to find them back to normal by the time you return home, discovering Bucky in your kitchen. He straightens and lowers the coffee from his lips as you pause in the kitchen doorway, and for a moment you just blink at each other.
He’d redressed himself in last night’s clothes, and you can see now in the light of day, a few specks of blood on the sleeves.
“I— sorry, I… I just woke up.” You stare at him carefully, but he must mistake your expression for disdain because he sets down his coffee cup and clears his throat, avoiding your gaze.
“I’ll just go. I’m sorry—”
“—Bucky.” You cut him off sharply, and he snaps his eyes toward you.
You’d been thinking long and hard, all night, and you’d really only come to one conclusion after last night’s events.
“I don’t think you should be living alone.” You say, and you watch his face filter through confusion, into a frown.
“What?”
“I don’t think you should be living alone. If last night is anything to go by.” You turn your nose up a little at the end, but only because recognition and understanding flash over his face, and his frown disappears.
“Is that so?” It’s not challenging, in fact you can’t really read his tone at all and you cross your arms over your chest.
“You aren’t well, clearly.”
“Clearly.” He nods, carefully picking up his coffee cup again and you nod, lifting your nose again.
“Good. Now that’s decided, you should organise to move your things.” And with your heart beating quicker than you’d like to admit, you turn on your heel and leave him in the kitchen.
Within the week, Bucky’s moving his things into your house.
Ale had been ecstatic when you’d told him, and hadn’t stopped bouncing for days.
Bucky hasn’t stopped bouncing either, though a little more subtly. He helps his guys carry any furniture he’d wanted, inside your place, and after a long day of back and forth, he’s ready for a long shower and a meal with his family.
“Bucky?” Your voice startled him from stretching his back, and he turns to find you poking your head through the doorway.
“Dinner soon. Clean up.” You tell him, only half rolling your eyes when he straightens and salutes you.
He finds himself climbing slowly up the stairs to the second floor, gratefully taking in the details of your home. He’d had nice furniture and such in his house too, but there was something about a space that had been filled with love, not just things.
On the second floor landing he passes Ale’s room, and smiles to himself at how close he’ll be now. Right there, just two or three doors down…
Bucky keeps moving, exhaustion setting into his bones now as he pushes open the door of the guest room and steps inside, ready to find his towel and get to washing up. Only, the second he lifts his eyes to scab the space, he pauses.
Where were his things?
He knows his clothing and such had arrived earlier, because you’d told him yourself that you’d put it away in the room upstairs. One check inside the cupboard tells him this room is empty. Confusion colouring his gaze, Bucky steps back out and looks toward the stairs.
“Vivi?” He calls out when he’s close enough.
“Where did you put my things?” There's a slight pause before your answer comes.
“Upstairs!” Bucky frowns and looks back toward the guest room, and then, almost hesitantly, to the steps that lead to the third floor.
“Upstairs?” He confirms, and you hum a confirmation back.
Stepping quietly toward the second flight, Bucky knows he’s probably reaching, but as it is, he really wants that shower, and it wouldn’t hurt to check off the only other upstairs bedroom, your room.
Climbing the stairs with soft footsteps, a nervousness sets upon him when he stands outside the only door on the floor.
Swallowing thickly, he turns the handle and lets the wood fall open of its own accord, as he waits in the doorway, watching.
Your room is warm and cozy looking, a vanity to one side, an en-suite bathroom to the left. Your bed is a four poster, with rich coloured fabrics that look soft to the touch, and—
Bucky sucks in air, and his feet carry him forward of his own accord. There’s things laid on the bed, obscure from the doorway, but as he nears he takes it all in. Clothes, his clothes, laying ready for him to change, a folded towel and washcloth sitting atop them. In minor disbelief, he looks around the room, waiting for someone to jump out and tell him he’s been duped, but all he can hear is the faint sounds of movement from the lower floors.
He can’t help it, Bucky’s lips twitch and pull up in the corners, and with a brand new kind of relief settling in his chest, he reaches out and takes the towels.
He’s already kicking his shoes off when something else catches his eyes. Frowning down at the small box that had been under the towel, but atop his clothes, Bucky shifts his things under his arm, and then reaches out to gingerly collect up the box. Blinking at it, and with no real clue what it was, he snaps the lid open, and stares.
—-
You’ve just finished setting the table when Bucky enters the dining room, fresh and clean and dressed in the clothes you’d set out for him.
“Ale, come sit down!” You call, transferring a dish from the oven to the table, just as your son skitters out from underneath the table.
“Daddy! Can you sit next to me!?” Ale begs, tugging on Bucky’s hand.
“Of course! Where else would I sit, pal?”
You pitter about with some other things as Ale takes his seat, waiting for everyone to be settled before you turn back around, along to find that when you do, Bucky is still stood waiting, your chair pulled out.
“Thank you.” You say softly, placing the butter down, before letting him guide your seat under your. Bucky takes the place you’d set for him at the top of the table, between yourself and Ale, and smiles.
“Smells amazing.” He nods, and you open your mouth to reply, but are cut off.
“Let’s say grace!” Ale announces, holding his hands out for you and Bucky to take.
“Good idea, pal.” Carefully, you reach across the space between you to take your son's hand in your own, and lift your other to find Bucky already holding out his other, waiting for you once again.
The light glints of the gold on his finger, and when you place your hand in his, your rings clink against one another in the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard.
Bucky smiles.
“Bless this meal, this house, and this family.”
#mob boss!bucky#bucky barnes/reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes/you#bucky barnes/yn#bucky barnes x yn#mafia!bucky
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https://www.tumblr.com/gutsby/739815679521406976/license-to-kill
Hey I’m the anon that found the fic for you. Just stopping by to let you know that the sequel to wedded bless is out.
OH MY GOD!!! THANK YOU!
But N🫶nnie, I am so not ready... 😬😭
Fuck. Shit.
Here's the link☝️ for those who want to read it too 😁
#An🫶n asks#booky reacts#booky answers#booky's reads#chris evans fandom#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan fandom#sebastian stan fanfiction#mob boss!bucky#I AM SO NOT READY 😬
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Is it a crime?
Chapter 8
Pairing: mob boss!bucky Barnes x mob boss!reader
Word count:5.2k
Warnings: angst, some physical violence, physical violence against a pregnant woman, death threats, gun use, teenage pregnancy scare, arguing I think that’s all
A/N: some of you are upset on how the last chapter ended and I’m sorry! I hope some parts of this chapter makes up for it. A LOT is revealed here too. Please let me know what you think. A very special shout out to the very lovely Em ( @writing-for-marvel ) for being such an amazing person an creating dividers for this series I absolutely love them. Em is also a very talented writer so you should check out her writing!!!
Series masterlist
Ch. 7
17 years old
You paced back and forth in your bathroom. Bucky sat at the edge of the bathtub, his leg bouncing as he watched you. The wait was pure agonizing torture. After a few minutes the timer you had set went off. The answer you were waiting for would be the best news or the worst. You pick up the little white stick with a pink lid and read the result, sighing in relief.
“What does it say?” Bucky asked, still unmoving from his spot.
“It’s negative.”
You showed him the pregnancy test and he frowns slightly. His reaction causes you to frown on return. He pulls you closer so that you’re standing in between his legs. His arms wrap around your hips.
“Did you want to have a baby now?” You ask in a whisper. “We’re still in school.”
“Now or in five or ten years or fifteen years, it doesn’t matter. As long as you’re the mother of my children.”
He smiles up at you, that sweet boyish smile you love and you can’t help but run your hand through his unruly hair.
“What if we’re not together by that time? Or we stop loving each other?”
He pulls back and looks you dead in the eye, his expression serious. “The day I stop loving you is the day I die. Even then I’d come back as a ghost to haunt you with my love.”
“You weirdo.” You laugh at the last part.
“I can live with that as long as you promise to love me back, and marry me when the time is right and have my children.”
“Only you Barnes, only you.” You smile brightly down at him before you connect your lips with his.
“You got her pregnant?!” Bucky hears behind him. He turns in his chair to see Becca walking into his living room and right towards him with a scowl on her face.
It was too early for this. To have this talk or fight. His head was still pounding from the horrible hangover he acquired, which takes a lot of alcohol considering he isn’t a lightweight.
“Answer me, James.”
“No.” He says quietly at first. “I don’t think so— maybe.”
When Becca stands in front of her older brother she can see the red rimmed and puffy eyes. There were dark bags under said eyes, his hair was disheveled as if he ran his hand through it multiple times. It’s obvious Bucky hasn’t slept or eaten anything since Dot announced the pregnancy and that had only been a few hours ago. But it was your face that kept showing up anytime he closed his eyes.
“Why would you even sleep with her? I thought you hated her guts.”
“Becca please, I can’t do this now. How did you even find out?”
“She’s been at home for the last hour talk-“
“It’s like 8:00 am.”
“Anyways, I came here because she was talking to dad. Dot is trying to convince him to make you move up the wedding since she doesn’t want to look pregnant in her wedding dress.”
Bucky’s eyes snap up to look at his sister.
“Fuck,” he throws the glass he had in his hand against the window. “Let’s go now. I’m not moving that wedding up.”
“You should shower and change first, you smell like a cheap bar.”
“Fine.” Bucky growls before stomping away toward his room.
****
Once he’s freshly showered and dressed Bucky heads back downstairs. There’s a whispered conversation going on between Steve and Becca. They both turn to look at him once he makes his presence known. Steve’s expression is more grim than Becca’s.
“What did she say?”
Steve opens his mouth but closes it again. He smooths his beard as he tries to think of the easiest way to say what you had told him.
“Will you just spit it out?”
“She told me to tell you to leave her the fuck alone and that you should be focusing on your future wife and child.”
Bucky curses under his breath.
“I’ll deal with dad first, let's go.”
Not much had changed in the old restaurant Pierce had brought you to. It was his usual spot even when you were a kid. The waitstaff still feared him, his men were still posted at every entryway. He still sat at the same table, with his back to the wall leaving you to sit with your back to a huge window. Sometimes you thought of just sending Cougar to take him out from a few rooftops away but that would take the fun out of everything. And if one thing was certain it was that you wanted to watch Pierce realize he’d lost. For now you indulge this little power trip of his.
“You know I gave up on looking for you about three years ago. You were in the clear, you could have kept living your life. So I don’t understand why you would do something so stupid like come back?” He looked at you over his coffee.
“You’re too old to be acting this stupid Pierce. You know why I’m back.”
“Watch your fucking attitude with me, princess.” He slammed his hand on the table, causing all the cutlery and plates to clang against each other.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. My, my someone is testy this morning. What’s wrong Pierce, did your prune juice not work for you?”
“I’m going to give you one day,” he held up one finger as he glared at you. “To pack your shit along with those good for nothing goons you brought with you, and get out of town. After that I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
“Is that supposed to scare me? Come on, you know better than that.” You shifted in your seat and sat up straighter. “I’m only going to tell you this once, I’m here to take back everything you stole from me. There is no negotiating, I will leave you with nothing and when we get to the end and you’re begging me to just end you, I will take pleasure in keeping you on the brink of death until I see fit.”
Pierce laughed and when he stopped he had a smug smile on his lips.
“Was that supposed to scare me?” He mocks. “I’ve taught you everything you know, I’ll always be ahead of you. There’s not a move you can make that I won’t know about and I will make your existence so miserable you’ll be the one begging for your life to end.” He takes another sip of his coffee. “I could have had you killed the minute you stepped into my city but as a courtesy I wanted to have this sit down. I’ll only warn you once. The minute you step out of that door you have 24 hours to leave. If not, get ready for war.”
You smile at him before lifting your hand and signaling for someone or something. The window cracks and splinters, a bullet flies by your and Pierce’s head imbedding itself in the wall behind him. Before he or his bodyguards have time to react you’ve already gotten up from your seat. You grab Pierce by the back of his neck and slam his head against the table. The gun Rosie had given you just that morning is in your hand and pressed against his temple. “Tell them to back off.” You instruct Pierce as his men point their guns at you. “Now!”
“Do it, put your guns down and back off.”
You lean in “I’ve been ready for war for ten years. You should have killed me when you had the chance. If you think you can intimidate me with your old school bullshit, you’ve got another thing coming. That was the only warning shot you get, next time my guy won’t miss.” You push his head against the table once again before standing up straight. The gun you brandished was now pointed at the other men.
“Where did you get that gun?” He asked, sounding a bit panicked and surprised.
“Why do you care?”
“That was your mother’s gun.” He said through heavy breaths. “She was supposed to have it the night she died but it wasn’t in the car.”
The comment confuses you, how would he know if it was or wasn’t in the car.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure this is the gun I use when I kill you.” You snap before walking out of the restaurant.
Jake was waiting in a car just outside for you. You get in and he barely waits for the door to close before pulling away. He’s fuming, you can tell by the way the veins in his neck are about to pop out.
“Can you tell me what the fuck that was about?” Jake says through gritted teeth. He’s gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. “What were you fucking thinking? He could have killed you.”
“He wasn’t going to. Pierce likes his little cat and mouse game. He has a strict set of rules he likes to follow, he never deviates from it. You know this.”
“That’s not the damn point.” he practically yells at you.
“Watch your tone with me Jensen. I’m your fucking boss, I make the calls not you.”
“And I’m not some low level pusher. I’m your right hand and I’ll call you out when I have to. Listen I get you’re upset about the Barnes thing, but that’s not an excuse to be so damn reckless.” His voice softens a little.
“Stop the car.”
“What?”
“I said stop the fucking car.” You snap and he does as you ask. “You have more important things to do, get to ‘em.” You say as you get out of the car and slam the door shut.
He drives away while you stand there. You take a deep breath and you wish you could smash someone’s head in.
“Fuck.” You mutter as you walk down the sidewalk.
“Oh my gosh, what happened to the window baby?”
“What the fuck are you doing here Dot?” Pierce glared at the bubbly blonde from his seat at the table.
“Well I wanted to see you and you weren’t at your office. The plan worked, James and Y/N think the baby is his.”
Dot gets closer to the older man and inspects his face. She gasps as she sees the red splotches on his face from where you slammed his head against the table.
“Who did this?” She tried to caress his cheek.
Pierce grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from him.
“Ow, Alex you’re hurting me.”
“Are you fucking stupid? Did the bleach finally seep into your brain and ate away at your common sense? Y/N could have seen you. It could have ruined everything.”
“But I just wanted to see you. I’ve missed you and I know the baby misses his daddy.”
“You missed me?” Pierce’s hand connected with Dot’s face. The sound like thunder in the otherwise quiet room. “If you ever do anything stupid like showing up here I will kill you myself, understood?”
Dot tries to wipe the tears away and nods.
“Oh baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do that but sometimes you just make me so angry. Come here.” Pierce pulls Dot into a hug. “Now do me a favor. Get on your phone and call Rumlow and tell him to meet me here. Can you do that?”
“Brock is already outside. I’ll just tell him to come in.”
“Why don’t you do that and go home. We can’t risk our plan falling apart now can we?”
“No sir.” Dot walks out of the dining area and gets Brock before leaving.
“You wanted to see me?”
“If you ever let your sister near this area again, I will end you.” Pierce glared at the younger man.
“Understood. Anything else?”
“I gave Y/N 24 hours to leave. Burn down one of her warehouses tomorrow.”
“You think she won’t leave?”
“Of course not. I taught her better than that. The offer was just a formality. Now go keep an eye on her place. I want to know what happens.”
“You got it.”
Bucky walked into his family home ready to tear his father apart if he tried to have the wedding moved up. Dot was already gone by the time he arrived which was good because he would have strangled her. He said a quick hello to his mother and walked right into his father’s study. The older man glared at him, George Barnes hated being interrupted in the middle of what seemed like a meeting. This would have earned Bucky a beating but not anymore. Honestly Bucky would like to see his father try and swing at him.
“You know the rules, boy. I’m working and don’t just walk in here when I’m in a meeting.” George growls.
“This meeting is on hold,” Bucky looked down at the man in his father’s office. “Donny take a break.”
Donny looked between the two men and got up to quickly exit the room. He was more afraid of Bucky than he was of George. Bucky had earned a certain reputation over the last ten years that his father could never have.
“If you ever disrespect me-“
Bucky held his hand up to stop his father from going on and on about all the things he would do.
“I don’t have time for this, I know you know about Dot being pregnant. I’m pretty sure that kid isn’t mine so I’m not moving up the wedding. If I find out who the real father is, the wedding and the engagement are off. I’m not going to negotiate any other contract with you. If it turns out that I’m right you’re keeping up the end of our deal.”
“You think you can make demands? This is my business. I say what will and won’t happen. I give the orders and who does what. You’re nothing more than an ungrateful brat. And don’t think that your sister won’t get what’s coming to her for running to you this morning.”
Metal hits wood, a huge indent forms on the dark wooden desk. Cracks shoot out in different directions, effectively breaking the desk.
“You haven’t done shit for this business in years. I’ve been doing all the work, so what I say goes because I’m tired of your fucking bullshit. You don’t even know what’s going on outside these walls, the threats I’ve ended so that we can continue to operate in this city. From now on you will report to me. And if I find out that you put a finger on Becca I will make sure your death is slow and painful. Because trust me I’ve thought of it many, many times already.” Bucky sneered.
“Yeah, if you’re so tough then why haven’t you done anything about it?”
“Because of ma. Maybe you oughta be more grateful I haven’t gotten rid of you yet.” With that Bucky walks out.
He doesn’t care what his father has to say or think anymore. There were more important things in his life and if he really wanted to keep the business going there were more than enough men that were loyal to him. Bucky finds Donny, one of his father’s trusted men. One that had slowly started to gain more respect and fear of Bucky. Bucky instructed him to let the others know he was now in full command of the Barnes family and their businesses. Everyone reported to him and if someone didn’t like it they’d be eliminated.
Now all Bucky had to do was find a way to talk to you.
You got out of the cab you had flagged down after your disagreement with Jake. The familiar brownstone stood in front of you in all its glory. It reminded you of many childhood memories, both good and bad. You only have to wait a minute after knocking. The door flies open to reveal Joseph Rogers.
“Little otter I didn’t know you were coming over today.” He greets you happily. “Come in, Sarah will be so happy to see you.”
You give him a half smile as you walk in and head toward the kitchen where Joseph told you Sarah was. The older woman turned and her face lit up when she saw you walk in. She quickly wrapped you up in a hug. It took everything in you to not break down and cry. You were all raw emotions and doubt. So many questions swimming in your head.
“Well what brings you by today? I heard the club had its grand opening last night. How did that go?”
“It was successful in all the ways that mattered.”
Sarah looked over at her husband with worry as she placed a cup of coffee in front of you.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Just that it did what it was supposed to. I have business deals starting up and I’m meeting with some local business owners in the next few days that are on Pierce territory. They want out from under him and I’m willing to provide the protection. Pierce even had the nerve to show up at my parents' graves this morning. He gave me a day to leave or he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.”
“That piece of shit. Your father should have gotten rid of him when he had the chance.” Joseph says.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything otter.”
You pull out your mother’s gun and place it on the table.
“Hey, no guns on the table.”
“Sorry Sarah.” You smile at her before turning to Joseph. “Rosie gave it to me this morning. She said mom gave it to you to fix and you returned it but my parents had already left that night. I pulled this gun on Pierce and he was surprised to see it. He said that it was supposed to be in the car that night but it wasn’t. Do you know why he would care about it?”
Again Sarah and Joseph look at each other. The latter gave his wife a single nod.
“There’s something you need to know, Y/N.” Sarah said as she gently placed a hand over yours. “Before your mother was the head of her family and before your parents even met, your mom and Pierce dated. He was very much in love with her. Maybe he wanted to keep the gun to remember her?”
You stare at Sarah with nothing but pure shock and disbelief on your face. The nervous habit of playing with the locket that belonged to your mother brought you a little bit of comfort.
“Did my father know?”
“He was aware of Pierce’s feelings for her but I don't know if he was aware of their relationship.” Sarah tells you as she eyes the necklace. “You know your mother had a locket just like that.”
“This was her locket.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you had it. She never took it off.”
Something about this didn’t feel right. The new information about your mother’s past relationship with Pierce made you question some things from your past.
“I should go. Thank you for everything.” You say as you stand and place the gun back in its holster.
“You don’t have to thank us. Just make sure you come around when you can little otter.”
You hugged them both and walked out. Cougar was leaning against the car you had used to drive to the cemetery. He tipped his hat in the direction of the Rogers and opened the door for you.
“Where to, boss?” He asks after getting into the driver's side.
“Wherever Jake is.”
Jake was typing furiously. It’s like he was punishing the keyboard for the argument between the two of you. He heard the door to his office open but ignored it, there were more important things to deal with. Until a little plastic T-Rex was placed on his desk. The corner of his lip ticks upward. Little plastic dinosaurs had always been how you apologized. There was no rhyme or reason to it. The tradition started when you were little and it stuck. You both had a small collection and you would trade them back and forth.
“I’m sorry about how I reacted this morning. You had every right to call me out. It’s one of the reasons I trust you so much.” You say quietly.
Cerulean eyes framed in circular glasses meet yours. They hold no real anger in them. It always made you wonder how Jake could be so kind but so cruel when needed.
“I was out of line too. I just freaked out when Cougar called me and told me what was happening. I’ve seen you go through too much for it to be over so quickly. So what did he want?”
“He’s giving us 24 hours to leave New York or he won’t be responsible for his actions.”
“Like he’ll be able to do any real damage.” Jake rolls his eyes and turns back to his computer. “Good job on placing that mic though. It took a few minutes but I have it up and running now. It seems like that’s where he likes to do business. Or at least some of it. They have cameras but no audio. I hacked in so that we have visuals and with our mic we have the audio we need for our back up plan. I also thought that if we could offer better deals people would agree to do deals with us instead.”
“This is why you’re my right hand JJ.” You clear your throat. “I need to ask you something. Do you remember when I asked you to look into my mom?”
He stops his typing and turns to look at you again. “Yeah.”
“What did you find?”
Jake pushes off the ground sending his computer chair gliding through his office at the club. He stops himself in front of a cabinet and rifles through until he finds what he’s looking for. Jake pulls out a thick folder. He then moves back to his desk and sets it down.
“This is all I have. It includes those offshore accounts she had made in your name that I found a few years back.”
“Is there anything in here about her death? Any crime scene photos or anything?”
“No, it seems like the police department is behind on digitizing their cold cases. Why?”
“I just found out some very interesting information and I wanted to see what the police found.”
“I’ll find a way to get my hands on it as soon as possible.” Jake stands and opens his arms offering a hug, which you accept.
“Thanks JJ, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Let’s never find out.”
You massage your temples after rereading the information Jake had given you. The music tonight annoys you and you consider going home for the night. There’s no real need to be here and Clay can look over the club. You sigh as you grab the drink you had poured for yourself and finish it off. Sinking into your office chair you close your eyes and think about what’s happened in the last 24 hours.
How bucky had his way with you on your desk and left you floating on cloud nine only to be pulled back down to reality just minutes later. You still couldn’t understand the whole issue he had with this supposed contract. Now it really didn’t matter, Bucky was going to get married and be a father. Two things you’d thought you’d experience together.
The door opens and you’re surprised to hear the soft click of the handle as it closes again. But you’re not in the mood to deal with anyone so you don’t bother to open your eyes.
“Whatever the issue is, Clay can deal with it. Go bother him and leave me alone. I’m going home anyways.”
“Good, let me take you that way we can talk.”
You sighed as you slowly opened your eyes to find Bucky walking towards your desk. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. There were dark circles under his eyes and he just looked hung over. You tilt your head slightly, taking in his form from head to toe.
“No.”
“Just let me explain, bug.” He said as he stopped in front of your desk. Seeing Bucky standing there brought back the memories from the night before. You suppress the shiver that wants to run down your back.
“You had your chance to tell me the truth and you didn’t. That’s your problem not mine.”
“What? When was I supposed to tell you she was pregnant? I didn’t even know.”
You stand up and put some space between the two of you. This is the last thing you wanted to do right now. It hurt so much, just the thought of Dot having the one person you loved the most.
“I asked you if you loved her and you said you couldn’t even stand to be in the same room with her. You could have told me then. Did you sleep with her?” You look up at him.
He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue and drags it down. Bucky did that when he was trying to find a way to say something he didn’t want to.
“It’s not what you think.”
“Get out.”
“No,” Bucky moves and walks towards you. He’s determined to get you to listen to him. Bucky puts an arm around your waist as you try to walk away from him and pulls you back until you're against a wall. He cages you in, his body pressed into yours and you can smell the alcohol he must’ve drowned himself in. “I’m not going to lose you again. So you’re going to listen to me until I’m done.” He says through gritted teeth, he’s so close his breath hits your cheek.
“If you actually fucking cared you’d give me my space. But obviously you don't, so I want you out of my club before I have you removed.”
“Call them in, have all of your people come in here and try to take me away from you. It ain’t gonna happen. Dot was a fucking mistake, I only slept with her once. I was drunk and I don’t even remember finishing. I wouldn’t be surprised if that kid wasn’t even mine. So please, don’t push me away.”
“You don’t fucking get it do you? It’s not just about the baby. I asked you and you didn’t tell me the truth.” You manage to get away from him and put some distance between the two of you. There was that familiar sting in your eyes of tears threatening to spill. You couldn’t allow them to reveal how much the situation hurt you. “I’m not naive, I couldn’t expect you to not move on or not sleep around, I did.”
Bucky’s jaw clenched at the admission. The thought of someone else holding you like he did angered him beyond belief. Even if he had slept around, none of them were you. He would kick them out of his apartment as soon as he was done, he didn’t care if they were satisfied. They were just a means to an end.
“Y/N, It’s not like that. I promise-“
“Instead of making promises to me you should be making them to your fiancée and your unborn baby. And I’d be very grateful if you’d stay on your territory, taking care of your business and not here. I have more important things to worry about.” You say as you turn and stare him down.
He scoffs before crossing the room and once again invading your space. His hand comes up and he places a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him.
“This isn’t over. I don’t care if it takes another fucking decade for you to believe me.”
“Bucky…”
The door opens revealing Roque and Cougar, effectively stopping the conversation from continuing. They both look at Bucky and then at you, waiting for your command.
“Make sure he leaves and figure out how he got past security. If someone let him in I want to know who it was.” You say without taking your eyes off of Bucky.
Bucky steps away, a slightly defeated look crosses his features before he walks away. Cougar follows him out but Roque stays behind.
“You ok, princess?”
You look up at him. “No but I will be. Do you know if Nebula and Gamora are set up at the warehouses?”
“Yeah, it’s what I came to tell you. They are ready to go and will keep us informed of anything that happens.”
“Good, now come sit I have to go over a few things.”
*******
Cougar silently walks Bucky out through the back of the club. Neither of them say anything until they’re at the door.
“Listen, I’m not going to stop until she believes me. That kid isn’t mine.” Bucky was just desperate.
“I believe you, Barnes.”
Bucky turns to look at him. It felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders just by having one of your people know the truth.
“But, maybe you should worry about your fiancée more than you do my boss.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Do you know where your fiancée is when she isn’t with you?” Cougar shrugs. “Maybe you should figure out who she hangs out with before you try to get Boss’ attention again. And you’ll have to do better than just sneak in here because next time I’ll just shoot you, and I never miss.” Cougar just nods towards the door, a clear indication for Bucky to leave.
He pushes the door to find Steve leaning against his car. Arms crossed over his chest, he glared at his best friend once he’s close enough.
“I told you she wanted you to fuck off and you show up here anyways?”
“What did you expect me to do, let her think I have any feelings for Dot?” Bucky snaps as he gets into the car.
“You should have given her the space she wanted, she’s dealt with enough today.”
“What happened?”
Steve sighs. “My parents told me she showed up at their place. She had a sit down with Pierce and he gave her twenty four hours to leave or else.”
“That fucker. We should just take him out.”
“If it were that easy we would have done it a long time ago.” Steve replies. “So what should we do?”
Bucky looks over at his friend for a moment and thinks about everything that has happened.
“Take me to the pub.”
“The pub?”
“Yeah, I’ve taken full control of my family’s business and I need people I can trust.”
“To the pub it is. The guys will be excited.”
“I hope so.” Bucky muttered.
If you really had a sit down with Pierce already, the war that was coming was going to get ugly fast. He should know he had been on the receiving end. It’s how he lost his arm. But even with everything going on between the two of you he needed to be ready to protect you. Because if there is one thing you two have in common is the fact that you would kill or die for each other, no matter what.
Ch 9
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pov: you are cooking something in the kitchen, when mobboss!husband!bucky comes behind you, slips his arms around your waist and tries to get you in the mood for sex
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What Day Is It?
Title: What Day Is It?
Fandom: MCU
Pairing: Mob!Bucky X Reader
Rating: NC-17 (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!)
Warnings: Mob!Bucky (yes, he’s a warning in and of himself), explicit sexual content, BDSM, spanking, riding crops, Dark content, impact play, orgasm denial, i think that's it?
Words: 2,400
Summary: Bucky appears to have forgotten your birthday. So you go to confront him, but he misunderstands your anger.
🍦 Waffle Cone: Bucky Barnes
🔪 Chocolate: Mafia
🍓 Forgotten birthday
🍫 Fighting to fucking
🍮 “If you’ve got something to tell me, now’s the time to do it.”
🍪 “Fight me, you big bitch!”
🌰 “Be a good girl and bend over the desk.”
All mistakes are mine, but shout out to my beautiful BETA reader @welcome-to-the-sin-zone
Happy Birthday, Birdie!!! @buckysbirdie, as promised, I got this up today! So this story came out MUCH DIFFERENT than what I had intended it to be! I was writing along and suddenly it took a sharp left turn and here's where it landed LMAO So I hope you like it!!! <3 <3 <3 <3
Materlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist
You were pissed.
Absolutely, inexplicably, unconditionally, pissed. And the bastard responsible? James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, AKA The Winter Soldier, Mob Boss of Brooklyn.
It was one thing to forget small things, like a last minute dinner plan. But your birthday!?
Bucky had been in meetings all month, which was nothing new. There were times when he would be gone from New York for weeks at a time doing deals and keeping tabs on his empire, but in the 5 years you had known him, he had never let work get between him and your birthday month, much less your birthday. But now…
You stormed into his office, ignoring Sam and Steve who were trying to grab you and pull you out, telling you to leave Bucky alone, he would make it up to you. You weren’t listening. You were furious and you didn’t care how dangerous James Barnes was, you were going to give him a piece of your mind.
Bucky, for his part, was sitting behind his large oak desk, his tie undone, his hair mused, and his cell phone up to his ear, looking downright ragged. You didn’t care.
“Barnes!” You hollered, storming up to his desk and slamming your hands down like you could intimidate a man like Bucky. “Get off the phone!”
Bucky eyed you up and down, his eye twitched. “Doll.” He drawled, sitting up in his chair a little straighter. “I suggest you go back to your room. I will be there shortly.”
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow and advised the person he was speaking to that he would be right back, placing his phone on mute. “No?” He asked as Sam and Steve both reached for your arms to pull you away, but you jerked out of their hold.
“You have five minutes. If you’ve got something to tell me, now’s the time to do it, Princess.”
Bucky didn’t usually use your nickname when he was angry. But then again, when he did, you knew he was angry. Except, he didn’t get to be angry right then. It was your turn to be pissed.
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say!?” You cried, throwing your hands up. “What day is it, James?”
The use of his first name caught his attention and he narrowed his eyes. “Wednesday. And like every Wednesday, I have meetings. Meetings, by the way, that help protect you. So if you have anything else -”
“Fuck your meetings!”
“Are you looking for a fight?” Bucky stood up, his blue eyes never leaving you, threatening your very existence. “I don’t appreciate being -”
“Yeah! I fucking am! Fight me, you big bitch!” You cried, as you reached over and grabbed his phone, throwing it at him. “Come on, fight me!”
Sam and Steve exchanged looks, worried for your safety, but afraid to intervene at this point and risk retribution from Bucky. “Y/N…” Steve said slowly, quietly. “Come on, let’s go back -”
“You stay the fuck out of this, Rogers!” You turn to Steve, shoving him hard. “And you, too, Wilson! I’ll get to you when I’m done with this bastard!”
“That’s enough!” Bucky hollered, stepping around his desk and grabbing you by the arm. “Rogers, Wilson. Out!”
The two scurried from the room as fast as they could as you turned back to Bucky, throwing a punch at him the way Natasha had shown you during your self defense practices Bucky had insisted you take with her every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. It hit Bucky in the chest, hard enough that he felt it, but not hard enough to make him drop your arm.
“What is wrong with you!?” Bucky yelled, pulling you closer by the arm. “You want to fight!? Or do you want me to punish you!?” He tugged on your arm again, pulling you closer to his desk. “Be a good girl, then, and bend over the desk!” His mental hand pushed between your shoulder blades, forcing you face down onto his desk as he moved to stand behind you, ripping your leggings down the seams to reveal the soft pink panties you threw on just to piss him off more.
“I’ve told you once, I’ll tell you a thousand times, you don’t wear underwear - or pants - in the house!” He pulled the band to your panties back and allowed them to snap your lower back. “Now, you’ve interrupted my meeting, you broke my phone, you yelled at me and called me names in front of my men, you wore panties and pants, and you’re being an absolute brat right now. Usually that would be ten spankings for each rule broken, but that would be 70 swats. Can you take that?” He growled, pulling back just enough to pull the shredded remains of your leggings and your cotton panties off of you and threw them into the fireplace. His mental hand went right back to your shoulder blades, keeping you in place on the desk.
“Fuck you and your stupid rules!” You grunted as you tried to move under him, trying to get any leverage. “I’m still pissed at you!”
“And you won’t tell me why!” He yelled, pulling his hand back and slapping your ass hard. “That’s one, the next 79 you’re counting!”
“79!? You said 70 total!” You turned your head to glare at him.
“You know the rules, 10 for each rule broken. Are you *trying* to get to 100!? Because you’re now at 90.” He smirked, knowing exactly what this did to you.
You growled, turning your head away from him. “Fuck you and fuck your rules. You don’t own me.”
“100.” He landed another hard slap on your other cheek. “Count or I’ll add 10 more for each one you forget to count.”
You cursed, gripping the edge of the desk as hard as you could. “Two,” you hissed out, hating that you’re already turned on by this. You were supposed to be mad at him!
“That’s my good girl. I know you’re in there somewhere, Princess.”
Before you can respond, he lands three sharp slaps to your rear that has you pushing up onto the desk with each hit.
“Three-four-five!” You counted before you could forget. The most Bucky has ever handed you was 70 at one time. You weren’t sure you would survive 100.
“Jesus, look at you,” Bucky laughed. “Just five in and you’re dripping. My god, you’re a slut.” he dipped his hand between your legs, running one of his fingers through your folds and scooping up some of your excitement.
You whimper, your walls clenching around nothing. This was going to be torture, but fuck if it didn’t turn you on.
“This what you wanted, Princess?” He asked, spreading your lips and pushing a finger into you, causing you to gasp and rock your hips back to get some friction. “You just wanted Daddy’s attention? Well, you got it now. You have my full. Attention.” He pulls the finger out and immediately lands the next five smacks on your ass and thighs.
You count, tears already falling down your face. “Daddy -”
“Nuh-uh. Bad girls don’t get to talk. They just count.” The next ten came quickly, one after the other, quick succession in a rhythm only Bucky follows.
You’ve started shifting on your feet, trying hard to press your thighs together to get some relief of the tingling sensation between your legs as he pauses then, staring at your ass. You lick your lips and take the brief pause to close your eyes and stretch your fingers, knowing that it’s only going to get worse. 20 in, and you’re ready to beg forgiveness - not that it would help. Bucky always forgives you. But he never backs off or decreases your punishments.
You’ve just managed to get your legs together and get some relief, a short moan escaping your lips before Bucky is kicking your legs apart and thrusting three of his metal fingers deep into you.
You cry out, clawing at the desk to pull away, despite how good it feels to finally be filled with something. “FUCK! BUCKY!” you cried, pushing back onto his fingers as he brutally thrusts them in and out of you for a few moments before they’re gone again and Bucky’s shirt is shoved into your mouth, tied up with the discarded tie you aren’t sure when he removed.
“I told you! Only good girls get to talk!” He hissed, giving your ass yet another smack. “Now I have to count. And you know what that means?”
You did. Fuck you knew exactly what that meant, and you started crying. Now not only are you going to get your 100 spankings, you weren’t allowed to cum. And goddamnit, it was your birthday. It wasn’t fair!
“Keep it up, Princess, and you’ll be my personal cumbucket for a month with no release in sight. Go ahead, try me.” He taunted before he grabbed the riding crop from his desk. When did that get there? Had it been there the whole time?
“Don’t think this means you’re getting off easy.”
You wanted to roll your eyes. The riding crop was never ‘getting off easy’. It just meant Bucky wanted to save his palm from stinging too much during longer sessions. It also meant he had even more planned for you.
Fuck me.
The next thirty came swift, and you were positive you weren’t going to be able to sit down for the next week. Bucky would stop every 10-20 strokes to tease you more. He would circle your clit with his metal hand, bringing you so close to pleasure then pulling back and giving you another 10 spanks. Or he would finger you until you were sobbing then pull out and give you another 15.
At 60 he stopped longer, pulling his pants down and shoving his thick cock into you as fast and hard as he could, moaning filth and obscenities in your ear as he fucked you hard and fast, cumming in you before you could get there yourself. He stayed there, deep in you, pulsing, for a good five minutes then.
“That’s it, Princess,” he growled. “Take daddy’s cum. Gonna fucking breed you. Stuff you full of children and keep you pregnant. Fuck - God you’d look amazing with my baby inside you. You want that, Princess? You want Daddy’s baby? I’ll give it to you, you filthy slut.” he bit your shoulder, hard, before pulling out and giving you another 10 hard spanks with the riding crop that had you sobbing harder, your tears leaving a pool beneath your face on the desk that not even Bucky’s shirt and tie could soak up.
“That’s 70, baby. You’ve never done more than this.” He says, like you didn’t already fucking know that. “Just 30 more. You can do it.”
You wanted to scream at him. Hurl insults and yell at him to fuck off, but all you got out was another wimper as the next 5 came suddenly, hitting down your thighs almost to your knees.
If it wasn’t for the desk, you were sure you would have collapsed by now. 25 more seemed impossible. You were aching everywhere, and you thought you were bleeding. You couldn’t be sure. Bucky hadn’t said anything, but you wouldn’t put it past him.
You almost didn’t feel the next 15, the ache in your ass almost overriding the sensation of more spacks, but the final 10 you definitely felt.
Bucky had shifted, apparently sensing that you were no longer feeling the hits on your ass, and was now swinging underhanded, bringing the crop up to your pussy and clit. Each new smack had you screaming harder, tears streaming down your face like a waterfall. It was torture. Pleasureful torture.
You sobbed in relief when Bucky said the magic number - “100.”
But it was cut short when he grabbed you by the waist, flipped you over and laid you out on the desk, his head diving between your legs to eat you out like a starving man.
You tried to shove him away, but his metal arm grabbed both of your wrists and held them to your stomach, preventing you from moving or pushing him away.
Your overly sensitive core was attacked by Bucky’s wicked tongue, bringing you to another almost orgasm before he pulled away again. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he reached around and pulled the gag off of you, eyebrows raised.
“Now. Are you going to tell me why you were being such a brat?” He asks nonchalantly.
You sniffled, wiping your own face - tears, snot, and slobber - off with your shirt before shoving him lightly, most of your fight gone.
“You forgot my birthday.” You muttered.
Bucky took a step back, frowning. “What?” he asks, looking over to his date book. “No I didn’t - oh fuck…”
You wiped at your eyes again, nodding and you attempted to sit up. “Yeah. You did. You promised you’d never forget! You swore you’d make me feel special every birthday…”
“Fuck, Princess,” He hurried to his bar and grabbed you a cold bottle of water and hurried back to you, opening it before handing it over. “I’m - Fuck, I can’t believe I forgot.”
Taking the water bottle, you took a small sip before Bucky was moving again, grabbing the baby wipes he kept in his drawer and cleaning you up gently before pulling you into his lap as he sat down in his chair again.
“I’m so sorry,” Bucky murmured, kissing your forehead. “I’ll make it up to you. Where do you wanna go? Anywhere. Anywhere at all. We’ll go for a whole month.”
“The bedroom?” You glance at him. “I would have understood if you had just told me that you were busy and we wouldn’t get to celebrate this year. But you swore to never forget.”
“I know I did. And I’m so sorry, Princess. I’ve just had so much on my plate. It’s no excuse and I’ll still make it up to you. Starting with - your punishment is over. How about we go take a nice hot bath and calm down… and then have some fun all night?”
“I don’t think I can feel my legs.”
Bucky shifted you on his lap and held you close. “I’ll carry you, Princess. I’ll carry you anywhere you want to go.”
Ope.
~*~ Fin ~*~
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The Eye of the Hurricane [15] - Morning After
A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, it's a calm one❤️ and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️
Summary: The first day of marriage can be relaxing.
Word Count: 2800
Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Violence, stabbing, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.
Series Masterlist
When you woke up next morning, it took you a while to understand where you were because this was not your bedroom or the honeymoon suite you had been staying at for a month but—
Oh.
Barnes weekend residence.
You rubbed at your eyes and turned around in the huge bed to see Bucky sleeping soundly right beside you, still in his clothes from last night. Your heart skipped a beat and you looked down at yourself to see your white afterparty dress, then yawned and pushed yourself off the bed.
Your afterparty dress was pretty, but it was way too uncomfortable to sleep in.
You grabbed your clothes from the bag Becca had prepared for you, then made your way to the bathroom to change into them and walked back into the bedroom again. When you pulled open the curtains to let the sunlight in, the sight of the huge green yard caught your attention and you smiled slightly, leaning sideways to the windowpane.
It was a good thing you were going to get this house in divorce.
“Morning,” the raspy voice reached your ears and you turned around, your heart skipping a beat as your gaze fell on Bucky. He ran a hand over his messy hair as he sat up in the bed and you stared at him for a moment, noticing for the millionth time just how handsome he looked before you frowned, throwing your shoulders back.
“Why are we in the same bed?”
“We’re not,” he said, motioning at you. “You’re standing right there.”
“No I mean last night—”
“I hardly remember anything about last night,” he murmured, rubbing his eyes before his head snapped up. “Wait.”
“What?”
“Did we…?”
You scoffed a laugh. “You wish.”
He managed to shoot you a mischievous grin despite being sleepy, then leaned his back on the bedframe to look at you better.
“Anyway isn’t it a good start?” he asked. “I mean considering we have one bedroom in the penthouse.”
“There are two guest rooms.”
He tilted his head.
“Y/N, I need an office in the apartment and so will you,” he said. “You do realize that?”
Your frown deepened as you tried to wrap your head around the idea. You hadn’t thought about the fact that he would need an office but it made sense, most of the deals were done at bosses’ homes and now that you were going to become an active player in the business, you would need one as well.
Oh, God damn it.
“Are you serious?”
“You chose the apartment,” he reminded you. “Besides I think it’s safer for us to sleep in the same place in case of an attack, especially with everything that’s been going on in town lately.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose and heaved an irritated sigh.
“Great,” you muttered. “I want one of those huge beds then.”
“Done.”
“And if you dare assume—”
“I’m not assuming anything,” he said and he got off the bed, then started unbuttoning his shirt, making your eyes widen.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
“I’m gonna take a shower,” he said. “You didn’t eat yet, did you?”
“Um…” you trailed off, trying to focus. “No?”
“Great, I’m starving,” he said, checking his wristwatch before tossing his shirt aside. “Our chef is a genius, you’ll see.”
…Jesus, this was just simply annoying.
You tried not to stare at his muscular torso but the tattoos on his strong chest made it impossible to look elsewhere. Your eyes darted over the small numbers around the gun before slipping down to his abs, but then snapped up to his face when he cleared his throat, his cocky smile playing on his lips.
“Don’t fucking say it,” you said and he held up his hands.
“You know, if you wanted to consummate our marriage—”
“It’s not the Regency times and that will never happen.”
“Just saying, the offer is on the table whenever you want.”
“I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last man on earth,” you pointed out, trying to ignore the fire burning your cheeks. “I’ll—I’ll go and check if the breakfast is ready, don’t be late.”
You walked away from him before he could say anything else, but you could still hear his laughter as you left the room. You shook your head as you made your way to the top of the stairs, then gritted your teeth.
“Keep your head in the game,” you muttered to yourself and went downstairs, your heart still beating fast.
*
This right here was the reason why you liked the Barnes weekend home this much even when you were growing up. It was pretty far away from the city and it was such a huge estate that it made you feel as if you had escaped from all the chaos and tension that came with the city. You and Bucky had decided to go back to the city around the evening so that no one would have any doubts about you not “enjoying” each other’s presence the morning after your wedding since you weren’t going on a honeymoon.
Bucky had given everyone the business excuse, and considering the state the city was in right now with HYDRA you were sure everyone agreed, but it was still a good idea to play it safe.
You thanked the maid who brought you your mimosa before she walked back to the house, then took a sip and leaned back on the sunbed, heaving a sigh. It was such a beautiful day so you decided to enjoy the sunlight with a book you had found in the library while Bucky was swimming in the pool. You stole a look at the pool before dragging your gaze to the green yard, then put your glass back on the small table beside you but before you could go back to your book, your phone vibrated on the table, making you frown.
“Who the…” you trailed off, then raised your brows when you saw the text.
From: Ethan
Hey, just wanted to say congratulations for the wedding.
You pursed your lips, taking a deep breath and your finger hovered over the button before you typed in your reply.
Thank you.
You sent it and saw that he was typing for a couple of seconds before you received another text.
Can we meet when you’re available? I’d like to apologize in person.
You blinked a couple of times, then sat up straighter and sent your text.
Nothing to apologize for, but I’d love to meet sometime this week?
You jolted with a gasp when Bucky’s phone started vibrating and shook your head, then put your phone down to grab his.
“Bucky!” you called out, holding up his phone and he turned in the pool to look at you, then swam towards the edge of the pool to pull himself out. A warmth spread through your stomach as he came closer to you, sunlight falling on his skin as he ran a hand through his wet hair, then grabbed a towel so that he could wipe his face. You swallowed thickly, averting your gaze from his body and put the phone on the table again, pretending to be engrossed in your book.
“Hey man,” Bucky answered the phone and listened to the other line, then let out a chuckle. “Hold on I’m putting you on speaker.”
You looked up from the book at him as he flung himself on the sunbed to your left.
“Hey Y/N!” Sam’s voice reached you and you smiled.
“Hi Sam.”
“Not interrupting anything I hope?”
“Nope,” you said. “What’s up?”
“How badly did you scare Ian?”
You pulled your brows together while Bucky grinned. “What?”
“He wanted a meeting with me and Steve as soon as possible,” he said. “Today, actually. Before you got back to the city.”
“Unbelievable…” Bucky muttered, curling an arm behind his head and you bit back a smile.
“Did you say yes?”
“Are you kidding? I’m still hungover,” he said with a small laugh. “No, meetings can wait until Monday.”
“Even better,” Bucky commented. “Let him panic.”
“Did he sound panicked?”
“Oh he did,” Sam said. “And very obvious too because if it were about business, your father would be the one to call me. Arthur is the one I make deals and have meetings with, not Ian.”
You nibbled on your lip, that familiar jealousy sinking your stomach.
“Well, he’s usually in the room though,” you muttered. “Does my dad know?”
“About the meeting? I doubt it,” Sam said. “Anyways, I just wanted to let you two know. Your cousin is freaking out, Y/N.”
“Serves him right,” you said with a grin. “Thanks Sam.”
“Anytime. Buck, I’ll see you when you get back?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “Thanks again. Tell Steve I said hi?"
“Will do,” he said and hung up, and you took your glass into your hand while the maid brought Bucky a drink. Bucky thanked her, then turned to you.
“Him being scared is going to be hilarious to watch.”
You huffed out a small laugh, then sipped your drink.
“He will try to stand in my way though,” you said and Bucky shrugged his shoulders.
“He will,” he said, nodding his head. “And we will run him over.”
That managed to put a smile on your face and you nibbled on your lip, looking down at your drink.
“Having second thoughts?” Bucky asked and you frowned, then shook your head.
“No,” you said. “No, never. I want this, I just—I also know it will make my dad furious when he finds out what I’m trying to do.”
“He can be furious all he wants,” Bucky said. “You’re the right choice here. He’ll see.”
You bit inside your cheek, trying to get rid of the familiar nervousness pulsing through you. You weren’t so used to going directly against your father ever since you were a child, especially on important things, and the family business was as important as it got.
You wished he could just name you the heir. That he could just let you prove yourself instead of pretending he couldn’t see that Ian was not fit to be the next boss, but since he refused to do it, you refused to feel bad about what he forced you to do.
He had promised you the position after all, so many years ago.
You snapped out of your thoughts and turned your head when Bucky’s vibranium hand touched yours.
“Hm?”
“Swim with me,” he said, shooting you an irresistible smirk that made your heart skip a beat, but you pulled yourself together and scoffed.
“Absolutely not.”
“Come on, it’d be fun.”
“I’m sure you’re very familiar with the idea of having fun by yourself,” you snarked, grabbing your book again to turn the page. “Don’t let me stop you.”
Bucky shot you a grin.
“Fine, stay here and pretend you’re not staring then.”
“I don’t even notice your presence,” you shot back as he got up from the sunbed, then walked to jump into the pool again. You stole a look at him, then clicked your tongue.
“Much,” you added quietly to yourself. “I don’t notice your presence much.”
*
By the time you and Bucky got to the city, it was already evening. The road hadn’t taken you long, but spending the whole day by the pool and knowing that tomorrow you had to plan just how exactly you would first get involved in the business at least officially made you feel quite tired.
And it was going to be the first night you would stay in your and Bucky’s new apartment.
In the same bed.
Lovely.
Having already ordered the biggest bed you could find, you were sure that this time tomorrow, you would be able to go to sleep and not even notice you were not alone in the bed but tonight was going to be rather challenging. You knew you had slept in the same bed last night, but both of you had been drunk so—
Getting drunk tonight as well sounded like a good idea actually.
When you reached the top floor and saw Bucky’s men patrolling the hallway, you repressed a yawn and followed Bucky to the door of the apartment. He unlocked it, then turned to you with a grin.
��What—” you started but was cut off when he hoisted you up bridal style, making you let out a surprised squeal. “Bucky!”
“It’s tradition,” Bucky said, still grinning. “We’re a traditional couple.”
“No we’re not, put me down!” you said, trying your hardest to stop the giggle threatening to spill from your lips as you held onto his shirt, painfully aware of Bucky’s men stealing glances at you two. Bucky opened the door and stepped inside with you in his arms, then kicked the door close with his foot.
“You’re unbelievable!” you said, unable to stop yourself from smiling as he put you down, and he had the audacity to give you an innocent look.
“What?” he said. “Sweetheart, we’re married now. I’m supposed to carry you over the threshold.”
You lowered your head just so that you could hide your smile and smoothed over your dress, then turned your head to see the multiple gift boxes and flowers in the living room.
“Ah,” you said. “I almost forgot about the wedding gifts.”
“Did we put weapons on the gift list?”
“No,” you said, making your way to the living room. “But we got them, probably. I call dibs on any knives we get by the way.”
“I told Steve I wanted brass knuckles,” Bucky said. “I think he got us a matching pair.”
“Oh I love brass knuckles.”
“I saw this really cool—” Bucky started but stopped talking when a small meow reached your ears. You pulled your brows together and opened your mouth to ask whether he heard it too, but a white ball of fur wheezed through the living room.
“What the…” you trailed off when a beautiful white cat with a pink ribbon on her leash reached you, and sat down to look up at you with wide blue eyes.
“Mrow?”
“Are you seeing this as well?” you asked Bucky and he nodded.
“Why do we have a cat?”
“She’s so cute—did she come with the apartment?” you asked. “No, right? She wasn’t here when we first saw here.”
“No I don’t think…” Bucky said and walked to the door to open it. “Aaron?”
“Mr. Barnes.”
“Who brought the cat?”
“Miss Becca, sir,” the man replied and you bent down to scratch at the cat’s head, making her close her eyes for a moment, purring.
“Hi there,” you whispered, smiling wide. “Aren’t you the cutest thing in the world?”
“Jesus…” Bucky muttered as he closed the door, then took out his phone and touched the screen before putting it on speaker. “I mean it's Becca, of course she-"
“Hey there!” Becca’s cheerful voice filled the room and you looked up, still scratching the cat’s head.
“Becca, why is there a cat in our apartment?” Bucky asked, making her gasp.
“That’s your baby!”
You bit back a smile, fixing the ribbon on the cat’s leash while Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Right," he said. "And why do we have a baby on the first day of our marriage?”
“Because as you said, you’re married now which means you guys can be all responsible and stuff,” she answered. “Her name is Alpine by the way. She’s my wedding gift to you, isn’t she sweet?”
You picked Alpine up, holding her in your arms. “You know, a lot of people just sent flowers as a gift.”
“A lot of people are boring,” Becca replied. “Leila’s friend found her on the street, the poor thing! I’d keep her but Leila is allergic, so there you go. Now you two have a daughter.”
“I’ve always wanted a daughter,” you nodded solemnly and Bucky blinked a couple of times as if he couldn’t believe you were playing along.
“Y/N…”
“I gotta go now, enjoy the first night of parenthood!” Becca said and hung up, making Bucky gawk at the phone before putting it back into his pocket.
“Of course she got us a cat,” he muttered. “Of course.”
Alpine purred in your arms, making you smile down at her before looking up at Bucky.
“We should probably buy stuff for her,” you said, looking around the apartment. “A bed, some food, toys…”
Bucky’s brows rose. “Hold on, we’re keeping her?”
“Of course we are, you heard Becca. She’s our daughter, apparently,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders as you walked to the door. “Her surname will be dashed as well, by the way. Mine and yours together.”
“Y/N—”
“Come on!” you called out as you stepped out of the apartment with Alpine still purring happily and Bucky heaved a sigh, then followed you to the elevator.
Chapter 16
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#mob!bucky barnes#mob!bucky#mob!bucky x reader#mob! bucky#mafia!bucky barnes x reader#mafia!bucky barnes#mafia!bucky#mafia bucky barnes#mafia bucky x reader#mob bucky barnes x reader#mob bucky barnes#mob bucky x reader#mob bucky#mob boss!bucky#mob boss bucky barnes#mob au#mob!au
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Since it’s still Monday… Happy Horny Monday!🥵
Imagine Bucky telling you to get on your knees🥵
Oh… and when I tell you there are so. few. men. I have ever wanted to have in my mouth…
But he would be one.
Especially Devour Bucky…
And it’s not Monday anymore, but who can complain about a little smutty something on hump day Wednesday?
Fandom: MCU
Collection: Devour
Title: MINT
Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!Bucky x f!Chef!Reader
Word Count: 1.5k
Content Warnings: explicit smut, oral: male receiving, vaginal penetration/fucking, sex in a semi-public space, mob boss Bucky
Logistical Notes: Takes place after Heat but before Yeast. Written on my phone while waiting for my departing flight…
↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
You had dated before the incident (and you’ll always call it that because it was the height of his audacious pursuit) but that was different to how things were with James now.
Now you were his, and he was so assuredly assertive about it. He touched you easily - a hand on your back, on your arm, reaching for your hand. When you weren’t next to each other, his eyes sought you out - not constantly, but frequently. It was devoted with a hint of possessive that was healthy, not insecure. It bespoke a confidence and contentment that you had never experienced in any previous relationship, situationship, or entanglement.
It felt good.
At tonight’s benefit for the museum his warm hand had found its way to affectionately rest on your thigh under the table, but it wasn’t long before his hand had shifted, sidled under the high slit of your long silk dress, and his fingers drifted over to the tender and traitorous skin of your inner thigh above your stockings, dangerously close to your core.
But no further.
Only the quirk of his mouth told you he knew how he was teasing you, but he was essentially well behaved the rest of the night.
Somewhat maddeningly so.
He continued to be physically affectionate, but only in the most appropriate way.
And his eyes danced with the mischief of it.
So you concentrated on the rest of the evening - the other VIPs you were grouped and mingling with, the performances by some of the city’s symphony and opera stars, and the culinary delights.
You had been nervous for your first public appearance like this with James Buchanan Barnes, but it had been surprisingly nice. One of Bucky’s associates and his fiancé were at your table, as were the governor’s nephew and niece and each of their plus ones, and one of the members of the museum’s board of directors and her partner. James had whispered in your ear that the charming elderly woman from the museum board terrified all the old men on the board because she was so charming they were constantly surprised by her devious control of the board without ever having been the chair.
After dinner, there was dancing, but your table was one of a handful of tables swept away first for private tours of the new collections.
That’s where he struck.
Holding your hand, fingers interlocked, James had been falling further and further back in the group, engrossed in many of the works.
And it might have been genuine, but when he pulled you into one of the enclosed galleries and you saw one of his security step in front of the entrance, you knew you were in for discreet but delicious ruin.
“James…” your voice drawled in a cautious question.
He mimicked your tone, murmuring your name right back.
“Won’t they be trying to secure a sizable donation from you tonight at the end of this tour?”
“I’m already a generous patron of the city arts council. If they leave us alone long enough, I’ll increase my patronage before we leave,” he said with a cocky smirk.
One you had come to love.
“Been wanting to have you all night,” he said, voice going lower, right to your core, and taking a step closer to you.
“Oh?” You pretended to be unaffected, the way he had pretended to be only innocently touching you at dinner.
“And I would bet you’re ready for me,” he spoke directly into your ear.
Your eyes fluttered closed, but you tried to keep the rest of your cool. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
He chuckled then pressed you flush against his front, and you felt his hard cock press into you. “I’m ready for you.”
And within half a second, he’d rucked up the long skirt of your dress, exposing your ass in your lacey underwear and large fishnet stockings. You gasped his name into his chest, but he only proceeded, cupping your mound, undeterred.
And you couldn’t hide the heat of your wetness or your soft whimper as his fingers worked over your already ruined panties.
“Get on your knees for me,” he said, gently pushing down on your shoulder, and a little dazed, you complied. He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip then cradled your cheek - affectionate but with control in those fingers. “I want your pretty mouth.”
You unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, and pushed his boxer briefs down, exposing his thick, glorious, hard cock.
Then your gaze flickered to the side, toward the entrance to the dark gallery.
James brought his other hand up to frame your face, now holding your head in both his hands.
“Keep your eyes on me.”
You bit your lip but nodded. He smiled. Every moment had your body more abuzz - desire, the rush of being so exposed in public, this new relationship, how intoxicating he was.
“Now open up.”
You parted your lips, placed your hands on his thighs, and he eased his cock into your mouth. The tang of his precum hit your tastebuds, and the warm weight of him had you hum as you closed your lips around him.
“Mmmm, like that,” he cooed, slowly pushing his length to the back of your throat. He drew back a little, still holding your head in his hands, and pushed in again. Back and in again. Then he pressed his tip a little more insistently against your esophagus. “Relax and let me in, let me use your throat.”
You whimpered, but blinked once, still looking up into his deep blue eyes, and squeezed his thighs a little to let him know you were ready.
He didn’t rush, but he set an insistent pace, rocking in and out of your throat, groaning when he finally pushed all the way in, your nose nudging against the pubic hair at his base. You concentrated on breathing evenly through your nose, blinking through the tears that sprung from your eyes. His fingers were there to brush away those tears immediately, and the tenderness while he forcefully took your throat made you keen.
He rutted into you a few more times, and you could feel him absolutely throbbing, ready to let him spill into your mouth and down your throat, something you almost never let anyone else do before him, but then suddenly he pulled out, and hauled you up.
“Wha-“
He stopped your words with a consuming kiss, licking into your mouth, growling when he tasted himself there. He hauled your leg up around his hip, and you clung to his shoulders.
“My good girl deserves my cock in her dripping cunt, doesn’t she?”
“God, yes!”
He pushed the delicate lace of your panties aside, quickly lined up his thick, throbbing head inside of your slick heat, and drove up into you, claiming your lips immediately again once he was sheathed in you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling closer, desperate to anchor in this moment of desperate passion.
As your leg gripped around him, his hand slid down to control your hip and leverage his thrusts.
You expected him to draw away from your lips, say more filthy things, but he didn’t for once, seemingly as needy as you to race to this finish. His other hand moved between your bodies and quickly sought your clit, already knowing each inch of your body better than his own. Quick circles over the bud at his fingertips escalated the tightening in your stomach, rough, punching thrusts, and then you were clenching and cried out against his lips, turning your head to pant into his neck as your orgasm washed over you in a rush. You trembled in his arms as he pumped furiously into you, and then he groaned as he shot his own release into you.
Quick, rough, claimed.
Satiated.
He laughed softly then kissed you again, more softly, still inside you for another moment.
Then he sunk down on one knee before you and brought your left leg up to perch on his knee. He drew a handkerchief out of the inner breast pocket of his dinner jacket, and then gently cleaned up your mixed spend from your core. He pressed a hot kiss to the exposed flesh of your thigh just above your fishnet stockings and righted your panties.
“You’ve so quickly become everything to me.”
Your heart stuttered, and you pulled him up for another kiss. He smoothed the long skirt of your dress back down, smoothed his hands up and down your waist, pulled you flush against his chest to run his hands up and down the expanse of your exposed back.
“All mine,” he murmured against your lips.
Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a few after dinner mints he had apparently snatched from the table. You giggled and shook your head, but took all three eagerly, popping the first into your mouth.
He took your other hand in his, threading your fingers together, and drew it up to his mouth. “And I’m yours,” he added before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.
↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes smut#mob au#mob boss!bucky#bucky barnes au#Aspen asks#Aspen wrote something#devour au#devour: salt fat acid heat
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Hybrids Mafia Princess Series
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
#vampire#tvd klaus#hybrid#the vampire diaries#the originals#the vampire diares imagine#the originals imagine#Marvel#Avengers#niklaus mikaelson#niklaus imagine#klaus imagine#klaus x reader#klaus x y/n#Klaus x oc#klaus mikaelson#klaus mikaelson fluff#klaus mikaelson imagine#klaus mikaelson moodboard#klaus mikaelson smut#klaus mikaelson x reader#mafia!bucky barnes#mafia bucky barnes#mob boss!bucky#mob boss bucky barnes#mafia!james barnes#bucky barnes x daughter!reader
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An Offer · part 04
pairing: mob!bucky x reader
words: 4,2k
warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.)
<previous part | next part> | series masterlist
series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.
chapter sneak peek: “Bucky…” You hesitated, taking a little more time to sort out what you should really say. “Helps me with some business.” You reached for the glass of wine standing in front of you and took a sip.
“Always helpful,” Rebecca sneered. You noticed that she has been passionately ignoring her brother, but until now you were convinced that this was just a mistaken impression. “And, of course, he wants the best for you, doesn't he?” She faked a smile.
The encounter with Bucky, which took place a few days ago, turned out to be a new source of worry, leaving you even more confused. Guided by common sense, you tried not to dwell on it, but every time you lost your guard and let your thoughts wander, you found yourself reliving that moment. And each time you asked yourself the same question, Why did an accidental contact lead to such a strong reaction? It wasn't that the two of you had started pawing each other; Bucky accidentally leaned against you. And then he looked at your lips to see if your body was thinking the same thing as his…
You drifted off again, and were made aware of it by the boiling kettle. The flashback of the touch immediately popped into your head like the words of a stupid song you couldn't stop humming. And although you lost your appetite for tea, you filled the cup with hot water.
Michael walked into the kitchen with a newspaper in his hands – the kind he used to bring your father every morning. With a heavy sigh, he put it down on the kitchen counter. When you peeked at him to figure out if that sigh meant he was in a bad mood, you met his gaze. Suddenly you felt uncomfortable.
“What..?”
“Stark is becoming impatient,” Michael began. “Since your father's death, no one really controls the distribution of Stark Industries products. If this outage continues, Stark will quit doing business with us,” he said. Having taken off his glasses, he massaged his closed eyelids. Working with Tony Stark was bringing in a huge amount of money for your Family. As such, you understood Michael's nervousness – you couldn't afford to dissolve your partnership. “In view of this, we have less and less time.”
Biting your lower lip, you ran your eyes nervously over the surface of the countertop. “What about Brock?” You didn't want to consider the possibility that Brock might have turned out to be your last resort, but you knew you should be prepared for it. “Any word from Rumlows?”
Michael shook his head. “I was approached by someone else,” he added. Your first instinct was to feel uneasy, but in the end you decided to give it a chance. It dawned on you that you had to stop being picky, even though it had seemed perfectly reasonable to you up to that point. You had the right to demand to be treated right by any person you were to marry. “John Walker would like to speak to you. Without me or any third parties present.”
This was exactly what you had feared – John Walker joining in. And while he didn't seem as harmful as Brock, you didn't see him as the ideal candidate. But for all intents and purposes, you didn't see an ideal candidate in any man around.
You swallowed hard. “Did he say anything else?”
“That he will reach you to discuss the details of the meeting.”
The conversation with Michael was still looming in your head, effectively hindering your preparations for dinner at the Barnes house. All you could do was turn up there and look good, and even that was difficult to achieve.
A long, warm bath has improved the state of your skin somewhat – until now it was a little too dry and ashen as a result of the stresses of recent weeks. However, it regained some of its softness. You dried and brushed your hair, moisturised your face and did your makeup a little more carefully than usual, trying to cover up every little imperfection – these, too, have intensified since the burden of serious decisions fell on you. You generally tried not to complain about your appearance, but lately you haven't felt particularly comfortable in your own skin. Still, you saw the positive side in worrying about your looks – it took your mind off the rest of your problems.
The day was inexorably turning into evening, but the weather had not changed much – the temperature outside remained pleasantly warm, perfectly reflecting the deep spring. So you decided to put on a white dress with tiny flowers; it had short, buff sleeves and reached past your knees. The hard part came when you had to deal with the tie at the back; it went in a zigzag from mid-shoulders to lower back.
You breathed a sigh of relief when you heard a quiet knock on the door – Suzie appeared just in time.
“I was just about to-” You looked back over the shoulder and felt a sudden wave of heat when you spotted Bucky instead of your sister. Although he'd announced to you that he was coming – this time he'd done it by text, not by standing outside your window – you hadn't expected him this early. And as much as you tried to push the memories of your last contact into some dark, forgotten corner of your mind, these blossomed with vivid colours. “I thought it was my sister.”
“I wanted to wait in the car, but she sent me here,” Bucky said, scratching the back of his head. “Need help with the dress?”
Staring at him blankly, you nodded after a while.
“May I..?”
“Sure.”
Bucky came closer to you, so you turned again to let him work.
“Try to straighten the string, okay?” you added quietly. You wanted it to be as perfect as possible.
Bucky let out a heavy breath and you felt a cool blow on your half-naked back; this in turn made you shiver, much more gently than last time. His fingers slid under the string, and so involuntarily brushed your skin. You felt him hesitate for a moment, but then his fingers moved along the underside of the string, complying with your request and straightening it out. Soon he grabbed both ends and pulled them so that the front of the dress clung to your chest.
“Too tight?” he asked, presumably having heard your sharp sigh. You couldn't tell what it was the result of – the squeezing fabric or Bucky's closeness.
“It’s okay,” you croaked and you almost immediately scolded yourself for how weak and pathetic you sounded.
Bucky tied the ends of the string in a double bow, probably as a precaution; in case it would come undone at the least appropriate moment. He did it in silence, and although this seemed perfectly natural for such an activity, you got the impression that an awkwardness had crept in between you, which you had managed to avoid at the very beginning of your relationship.
“Done,” Bucky said, and you turned around carefully. Just as carefully, you lifted your gaze to his face. He was surveying you, possibly even more intensely than usual. For a brief moment you wondered if he too was tormented by the same thoughts as you, and judging by the slightly pained look on his face, expressing some kind of longing, you could guess that he was indeed.
“Have you heard?” You spoke after a bit longer silence.
“About what?” Bucky didn't even for a split second seem interested in the answer that might lie beneath your question.
“John Walker asked me on a date,” you said calmly, moreover, you were almost tempted to smile – you didn't want to give the situation unnecessary tragedy.
A corner of his mouth lifted, but that gesture had not even a hint of enthusiasm in it. He didn't look surprised or angry. You figured the news had traveled fast, but even if Bucky hadn't been aware of John's offer until now, he predicted it – he told you about it at the very beginning.
“You look really nice,” Bucky’s voice sounded so soft that your face flushed. You wanted to check if he was telling the truth, but you were unable to take your eyes off his.
“Thank you.” You smiled slightly. “I’ll grab a few things and we can go,” you added. You had the irresistible feeling that if you didn't say it – didn’t say something – the mutual gazing at each other would get out of hand again.
“I’ll be in the car.”
You left the house with Suzie. Because of your hands being occupied with a cardboard box, she closed the door behind you, then you both headed to the gate.
Bucky stood with his back up against his car. Your knowledge of vehicles ended with the identification of brands, but even if that skill was even more limited, you would have easily recognised this one – mainly because of the distinctive wild horse logo. A thought unknowingly popped into your head that the black, vintage Mustang suited its owner.
Pulling away from the car, Bucky pushed his sunglasses on top of his head. He opened the passenger door and put the seat down, allowing Suzie to get into the back. As your sister slipped inside and the front seat returned to its place, you also got in. Bucky walked around the front of the car and sat behind the wheel, his gaze immediately falling on the box you were holding.
“I made a carrot cake,” you explained.
He raised his eyebrows with astonishment.
“Barnes don’t eat cakes?”
“We do,” Bucky differed. You glanced at the way his hand landed on the stick and put it in the right gear. He threw his arm over your headrest to look at the back window, and you felt butterflies in your stomach again. “It’s just… Baking is so…”
“Yeah..?”
“I don’t know, wifely?”
You watched the profile of Bucky's face as he focused on the road. “Is there anything else wifely in me?”
Bucky smirked under his nose. When the car stopped at the first traffic light, he leered at you. “In you? I'd have to check.” He shrugged. “But those nightgowns you wear…” He pressed his lips together, shaking his head slowly. “Fuck,” he said almost soundlessly, as if he didn't want Suzie to hear it.
You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm, and he snorted a quiet laugh.
For the rest of the way, you didn’t really talk. You were worried that Suzie might feel uncomfortable, or worse, pick up something she wasn't supposed to hear. She was nearly an adult, besides, she had grown up in the same environment as you, nevertheless, you preferred to spare her the awkwardness.
Not long after you had left the city behind, the car turned into a road along which big old trees were growing; their interlocking tops formed a kind of tunnel. At its exit was a large, green plot of land, and you couldn't really tell where it ended. The house on it – tall, with a surrounding porch and walls covered with ivy in places – was probably as old as the trees.
Absorbed in the views behind the window, you didn't even notice that the car had stopped. You only became aware of it when Bucky opened the door for you. You got out, still scanning the surroundings with your eyes, and Bucky freed your sister.
“This place…” You began, and only after a moment glanced at Bucky. He stood next to you and tilted his head slightly to the side. “It’s beautiful here.”
Bucky gave you a half-smile, and this time you could see an undeniable softness and happiness on his face. You were able to tell that he had positive feelings about his family home.
The front door – solid, heavy, with a colourful, floral stained glass window – swung almost wide open. And although you had never really met her, you recognised Winnifred Barnes in the woman who stepped out onto the porch. At first glance, you saw a striking resemblance between her and Bucky – he had her whole face; her big blue eyes, straight nose and strong jaw.
“Y/N, Suzanne,” Mrs. Barnes beamed warmly at you and your sister. “I’m glad you could make it. Come inside.”
“Thank you for inviting us.” You handed Winnifred the package. “It’s just a cake,” you rushed to clarify, seeing the premature delight on the woman's face.
“That is so sweet of you, Y/N. Jamie,” she turned to Bucky. “Take our guests to the dining room, please.”
Having climbed the few steps leading up to the porch, Bucky joined you.
“Jamie?” you repeated, your mouth curved into a smile.
Bucky chuckled. “Yeah.” He scratched his neck.
You got to the dining room, and although the number of people there exceeded your expectations, you didn't feel overwhelmed by the company. You recognised Timothy first, since you had seen him relatively recently, then Steve Rogers, as he also figured quite vividly in your consciousness. As for the rest, you weren't as sure.
You guessed that one of the young women sitting at the table, who was an almost perfect, and certainly the most faithful copy of Winnifred, was Rebecca Barnes. There was an infant on her lap, banging a spoon on the table top and bursting into laughter after every sound. Rebecca, most likely used to this kind of noise, didn't pay much attention to it; she was busy talking to the person sitting right next to her. This time you assumed it was Josephine Barnes. In fact, you were even sure of it, mainly because of the similarity she shared with Winnifred, Bucky and Rebecca. She only had slightly softer facial features and a not-so-piercing gaze; you also noticed the visible tan.
You almost missed the last one – with her nose in a book she was the least conspicuous. Mary, you guessed. You recalled that she was not much younger than your own sister.
“You okay?” Bucky asked quietly, and it wasn't his voice that revived you, but his fingers hooked on your elbow. You felt electricity radiating from that spot.
Before you had time to reply, something crashed into your legs and embraced them tightly. You looked down, where you spotted a little girl with a grin that missed a few teeth.
“Hi!” She exclaimed.
“Hi.” You couldn’t help but smile, too.
“Oh, Daisy,” Rebecca groaned, clearly embarrassed by the child's behaviour. You therefore concluded that Daisy was her daughter. “Stop that.”
“It’s all right,” you declared immediately.
Still, Bucky crouched down and pulled the child away from your legs, and this little fuss threw you into the spotlight. Everyone at the table stopped whatever they were just doing and focused on you.
“Jamie brought home a girl?” Josephine asked with surprise and a kind of hope. “How long have you been together?”
“Is that your girlfriend?” Mary joined the conversation. “Oh, she’s pretty.”
You pressed your lips together in a slight smile; you hoped to avoid becoming the main attraction, on the other hand, you could breathe a sigh of relief – your efforts to make your appearance tolerable had paid off.
“Alright, that's enough.” Bucky gave his sisters a threatening glare.
“They are not a couple,” Timothy, sitting at the head of the table, spoke, drawing everyone's attention. “As far as I know,” he added, raising his eyebrows. “Y/N,” he said to you, his friendly smile didn't match the mysterious expression on the rest of his face. “Sit next to Steve. I insist.”
You led your eyes in that direction. Indeed, there were two empty chairs between Mary and Steve – probably for you and Suzie. “Of course.” You nodded politely and made your way to that seat, peeking at your sister to check on her. Steve rose and pulled back a chair for you, and once you had taken your seat, you glanced at Bucky confused; Timothy's request seemed more than a little odd to you.
Bucky clenched his jaw. Previous experience allowed you to recognise when he wasn’t pleased, and that was exactly what he looked like at the moment.
Winnifred also appeared in the dining room. As the lady of the house, she sat at the other end of the table. Soon after, the first dishes were served and the room filled with sounds of conversation. The men were talking about baseball, then boxing, and although Bucky was actively involved in the discussion, he seemed a little distracted. Whenever you glimpsed in his direction, you caught him staring at you – you could see that he was a bit disappointed, perhaps even resentful, and there was something dark in his eyes; as if the sea in his irises was hit by a storm. Especially when Steve included you in a conversation, smiled or laughed at something you said.
Winnifred asked about your gallery, the upcoming exhibition, and about Suzie's school. She praised your cake. In exchange you learned that Mary was studying for her biology exam even at dinner, Rebecca had expanded little George's diet – the baby previously sitting on her lap – with more fruit, and Josephine had returned to New York on a short break from her college.
You were worried that you would feel uncomfortable here, especially as Timothy separated you from the only person you knew, but the atmosphere in the Barnes home was like a warm, safe hug. Even Suzie found common ground with Mary, so you didn't have to be concerned about her comfort.
“How did you two meet?” Josephine asked, and when you looked at her without understanding, she nodded discreetly at Bucky.
“Oh, but we-”
“Yeah, I know.” Josephine waved her hand dismissively. “But I'm interested in every detail. I can't remember the last time Jamie brought someone home.”
You plastered a slight smile on your face, knowing that it wasn't Bucky who invited you here, but his mum. “Actually, we met through your uncle,” you answered. You didn't want to spoil the mood with the subject of a funeral or an arranged marriage. “Bucky…” You hesitated, taking a little more time to sort out what you should really say. “Helps me with some business.” You reached for the glass of wine standing in front of you and took a sip.
“Always helpful,” Rebecca sneered. You noticed that she has been passionately ignoring her brother, but until now you were convinced that this was just a mistaken impression. “And, of course, he wants the best for you, doesn't he?” She faked a smile.
“Rebecca, honey-” Winnifred interjected softly, and when she did, the table fell silent.
“No, mom.” She shook her head, as if that would prevent Mrs. Barnes from getting a word in edgewise. “It's not fair that some random girl can sit here with us and the father of my children can't.” Tears of anger shone in Rebecca's eyes. “Excuse me,” she said, then got up and left the room.
You felt guilty. Not because you may have actually taken an undeserved seat at the table, but instead of shame or anxiety, you were intrigued by this unexpected burst. You took another sip of wine.
“What happened to mommy?” Daisy asked.
“Nothing, baby,” Winnifred told her gently. “She’ll get better.”
With suspicion, Daisy turned her head at Bucky. “Is that true?”
He pressed his lips together in a pale smile. “Of course, Junebug. Cross my heart.” Bucky put his hand on his chest. “How about we watch ‘Finn and Jake’?” He suggested with theatrical excitement, which Daisy shared immediately – she nodded eagerly. “Yeah?” Bucky grinned again, more relaxed this time.
Daisy ran up to him, grabbed the hand he had held out and dragged him out of the dining room. Bucky glimpsed at you, giving you an apologetic look.
Josephine leaned out and laid her eyes on you. “I’m going for a smoke, wanna join?”
Josephine led you to a gazebo in the garden. As she said, she offered you a cigarette, and you both leaned against the railing. The evening gloom was dispelled by the lamps on the lawn and the lighting inside the gazebo; it was getting unpleasantly cold outside, but you preferred the low temperature outside to the tense atmosphere at the table.
“I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I don't want you to think that my sister is some spoiled bitch,” Josephine began, and you looked at her rather blankly. You didn't want to show too much that she made you curious. “His name was Robbie. The father of her children, as she called him,” she said with distaste. “He was part of the Family. Jamie recruited him, so the whole thing still bothers him. And Robbie was a fucking asshole from the beginning. He spent late nights in bars, gambled all their money away, hung out with other girls. When Daisy was born, it only got worse. He complained that Becca was neglecting him. Didn't help with the baby, disappeared from the house more often and for much longer…” She continued. “Rebecca's only problem is that she has a soft heart. She never said a bad word about Robbie, but everyone knew what was going on. She thought another baby would change him, that it would fix their relationship, but…” Josephine shrugged. She took a puff, and for a brief moment said nothing, staring into nowhere. “So Jamie got rid of him.”
Your brows drew together involuntarily. “What do you mean..?”
“No one knows what really happened to Robbie. He vanished into thin air and never contacted Becca again.”
You felt like a child who had just heard a blood-curdling ghost story. Actually, you only felt that way partly – on the other hand, you were even more fascinated by Bucky. “Well…” You sighed, shaking the excess ash off the end of your cigarette. “He did what he thought was right,” you commented. This time, too, you preferred to be careful, thus not claiming out loud that Bucky had done the right thing.
“Not according to Becca. She's better than she was at the beginning, but it's still a touchy subject for her.”
You finished your cigarettes in silence, and that silence helped you to sink into your own thoughts; to see Bucky in a slightly different light.
“Are you sure there's nothing between you and Jamie?” Josephine spoke, a teasing smirk on her face. “I saw the way he looked at you the whole dinner. I know my brother, and if I were Steve I would keep my distance from you,” she giggled.
Your lips twitched in a slight smile. You noticed it too, and although you weren't the only people at the table, you secretly hoped you were the only ones aware of what was going on.
You could have talked to Josephine about it; told her that Bucky had no right to be jealous. You were strictly focused on marrying someone and Bucky excluded himself at his own request. You could have shared all this with Josephine, thereby taking some of the weight off your shoulders. But you didn't want to involve her.
“I’m sure,” you said. “It's strictly business between him and me.”
“Speak of the devil.”
Following Josephine's gaze, you peeked over your shoulder. Bucky was heading to the gazebo. Having caught your eyes, he smirked softly. You struggled to take your eyes off his face and lowered them to his hands – he was holding a piece of cloth that you couldn't identify in the darkness. Only when Bucky got under the roof of the gazebo did you notice that he had brought a sweatshirt. Moreover, he put it gently over your shoulders.
“Thanks,” you murmured, surprised at the gesture, and glanced at Josephine. From the expression on her face, you were convinced that she wanted to say, So there's nothing between you two, right?
“You sneak out to smoke?” Bucky addressed his sister, his forehead creased. “What are you? Sixteen?”
“Oh, fuck off.” Josephine rolled her eyes.
Bucky reached out his hand, so she handed him the packet and the lighter. With a cigarette between his lips, he looked stunningly – more rough and intimidating.
“I'll leave you two alone,” Josephine suggested, grinning. She pushed herself away from the railing, and you two watched her leave.
You slipped your arms into the sleeves of the sweatshirt and wrapped yourself in it, discreetly inhaling the familiar scent. You looked at Bucky, and he again gave you a gentle smile; it reached his eyes as well. However, it faded soon after.
“I’m sorry about before. Becca-”
“I had this conversation with Josephine,” you stopped him. “I know what happened and I get it. I don't blame her for reacting the way she did. Anyway, she was right. I’m some random girl who-”
“You are not,” he protested immediately. His mouth set in a hard line as he was staring at you. “I-... I like you, Y/N.”
Taking a sharp breath, you looked away. You shook your head in disbelief, tried to ignore the fact that your heart was beating harder than you would have wished. “I like you too, Bucky, but I can’t fall for you. I don’t want to.”
Bucky took his eyes off you only to put out his cigarette. Then he moved a step closer to you and hesitantly reached for your hand. You closed your eyes, then fixed them on his fingers – he stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, and you didn't protest.
“I know,” he rasped. “But I just need to protect you. So please, let me protect you. Okay? Because I feel like everything is getting out of my control. And I’m fucking tired of it.”
You raised your gaze to his eyes. He glared into them pleadingly and with some kind of fear, as if your rejection would shatter him into a million pieces. You nodded slightly, unsure if you really did; if you really agreed to fall under his protection.
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The Teacher and the Mob Boss -Chapter 8-
Word count: ~3.000
Warnings: none that I can think of, mostly fluff
A comfortable silence surrounds us, our hands still tightly intertwined and I feel closer to James than ever before. For the first time since I met him, compassion arises in me. He never wanted this life, never wanted to belong to a mob, let alone lead one, he took this all on himself to protect his family, his loved ones. James broke down his walls for me, opened the way to his innermost being and I couldn't be more grateful for that. The last days I tried to swallow the attraction I feel for him, but at this moment I can't anymore. All feelings break out in me and I can hardly keep them in check. Still, I don't want to interrupt our intimate conversation, but everything inside me wants to find out as much about him as possible.
"If you could have made your own free choices, what would your life have been like?"
Astonished, Bucky looks me in the face; he seems completely overwhelmed by the question, and it takes him a moment to finally answer
"No one has ever asked me that before."
"Then I'll ask you now."
I pull our clasped hands up slightly just to rest my chin on them, patiently waiting for his answer.
"It would be definitely calmer and not as bloody. I honestly can't tell you exactly how I imagined my life would be when I was younger. And since I've been involved with the mafia, I can't really afford to daydream either. But I can tell you how I imagine my future since I met you."
A mischievous smile spreads across his face and I raise an eyebrow in anticipation before asking him to continue talking with a slight smile.
"Our life together would be quiet and away from all this violence and intrigue. Just you, me and Charlie, a small farm somewhere in the middle of nowhere from which we can get everything we need. Or maybe a cozy cottage somewhere in the woods. Just a small family and a carefree childhood for my daughter, one like I never had. Far away from all the hate, lies and scheming that goes on every day. Just the three of us, some animals and peace. And maybe, if that's what you want too of course, a sibling for Charlie."
A dreamy glint enters his eyes and an expression full of longing creeps onto his features.
"That sounds perfect."
"Only unfortunately, we don't live in a perfect world, so I guess it will always be just a dream."
Tenderly, he strokes over my cheek, still a slight, melancholic smile pulling his full lips.
"But we can make the world perfect for ourselves."
"We?"
All at once he sits bolt upright beside me, the pressure around my hand intensifies, and he looks at me from hopeful eyes. A wide, honest smile settles on my lips and I nod.
"Yes, Jamie, we."
"So you really want to try? You don't have to feel pressured into anything, I just-"
To stop him from talking himself into a rage any further, I disengage our hands from each other and clasp mine in his neck. Surprised by my action, he stops his babbling and looks at me in amazement. Calm, ice-blue eyes bore into mine, a shiver chases down my spine, and I unconsciously lean toward him. My fingertips bury themselves in his hair and begin to play with the individual strands.
"I want to, James. I didn't want to admit to myself that I was falling in love with a man I thought was dangerous. And the father of one of my students at that. But I realized I'd already blown that after our meeting in Stark's office. Otherwise, the possibility that you were engaged wouldn't have thrown me off like that either. But that's exactly what it did."
Briefly averting my gaze from his face and trying to collect myself, I noticed his large hands settle on my thighs and begin tracing patterns on them.
"But I hope you know that if we're going to start seeing each other more often, there have to be some rules."
"You make the rules."
His eager tone, triggers a slight tingle inside me.
"We keep our relationship private as much as possible. I'm still Charlotte's teacher, and even though it's a gray area legally, I don't think the school would be too pleased about me dating the father of one of my students."
"I could, however, talk to Tony an..."
A serious look from me immediately silences him and he raises his hands up defensively, yet I can still see his mischievous smile.
"Ok, agreed, we'll keep a low profile. Any other rule?"
"No secrets."
Again I see him open his mouth to most likely contradict me, but I interrupt him before even a word can leave his lips.
"I'm serious James. No secrets. I know I don't understand much about your world, your fake fiancée made that clear to me. But that fact, makes it even more important for me, that we are honest with each other.
I want to know when you're feeling down or when something's bothering you or also when we're in danger and I'll give that back to you the same way. Communication is the most important thing if we want this to work.
Briefly, James seems to quibble with my condition, but gives in with a simple, "All right," before long.
"Any other rules?"
After a moment's consideration, I shake my head.
"No, not at the moment..."
"Good."
No sooner has that word left his lips than he buries one of his paw-like hands in my neck and pulls me close to him, a quick glance into my eyes telling him all he needs to know. And just a second later, his soft, full lips are on mine. The kiss is loving and tender, almost reverently his lips move against mine. Millions of electric jolts run through my body and a satisfied moan escapes my throat. Clearly I can feel his grin against my lips, tenderly he strokes his hand through my hair, while he asks with his tongue for entry into my mouth, which I grant him without thinking about it. I have my palms pressed strongly against his chest, his body heat penetrates through his shirt and chases a shiver over my body. Our tongues fight for dominance. And I feel my core tighten. Only when my lungs beg me to let them breathe again, I detach myself from him with a last short, heartfelt kiss.
Just like mine, his chest rises and falls in rapid movements, our lips are red and swollen and there is a happy, satisfied expression on our faces. Desire rises in me and I let my index finger slide lightly over his chest before looking at him with what I hope are seductive eyes.
"Shall we go to my bedroom, then?"
I surprise myself by making my voice sound firm and confident, but I can't say the same for my emotions. Nervousness rises in me, and I feel like I've been transported back to seventh grade, when I snuck behind the gym with David Moore to make out. James' loud, throaty laugh brings me back to reality and I look at him, puzzled and also a little offended. Sulking, I cross my arms in front of my chest and look at him with raised eyebrows.
"What's so funny?"
My words are accompanied by an indignant snort.
"Just a few hours ago you wanted nothing to do with me anymore and now you want me in your bedroom. And honestly..."
"If I were you Barnes, I'd think very carefully about what I say next, otherwise that'll be your first and last invitation to my bedroom."
"Then you'd really be missing out."
At his words, I roll my eyes, but can't prevent a slight smile from creeping onto my lips.
"You know, with any other woman I would have accepted this offer immediately and if I am completely honest, I would not have had such a long and above all honest conversation with any other woman, as I do now with you. We would have disappeared into her bedroom, fucked and I would have left. No feelings, no guilty conscience, no meaning. And that's also why I'm not going to go to your bedroom with you now."
The words I've been plotting get stuck in my throat and a surprised expression settles on my face. Pure sincerity is in his eyes and the mischievous grin is gone from his lips.
"I don't want that shallowness with you that I had with all those other women..."
"Yeah there were quite a few of those apparently".
Startled, I slap my hands over my mouth, shocked at having spoken my thoughts aloud.
"Oh fuck, sorry, so...I...it's just that....after you introduced yourself to me...and Wanda told me who you were, I googled your name and..."
"And you saw the pictures of me with all the women."
His conclusion hits right on the mark, which is why I can only nod my head in shame.
"That's my past and I can't and won't deny it. I've slept with a lot of women, but I never fooled them, they always knew where they stood with me. And if one of them was hoping for something more, I made it clear to them that there would never be anything between us. I never had the interest in a real relationship at that time..until now. What I want to say is that I want to take my time with you to build a relationship. Nothing superficial, but something with meaning, if that's what you want, of course."
Almost shyly, he looks at his hands. Carefully I reach for this very one and intertwine our fingers together, lovingly I begin to paint small patterns on the back of his hand.
"Yes I do, very much so."
The pleasant silence that surrounds us is interrupted a short time later by the shrill ringing of his cell phone, with a frustrated sigh he pulls it out of his pocket. The name that appears on the display elicits a roll of the eyes. With raised eyebrows, I watch as he answers the call and presses the phone to his ear.
"What's wrong?"
He doesn't really seem to like his counterpart's answer, because after just a few words, a dark expression settles on his features.
"Are they okay?"
Tense, I try to hear what Bucky's interlocutor is saying, but to no avail.
"Sure the video footage, I'll be right there."
Even as he speaks, he rises from the sofa and begins putting on his jacket.
"I want increased security protection for them."
With a final, brash "Right away!", he ends the call and puts his phone back in his pocket.
"I'm really sorry princess, but I have to go."
With quick steps, you follow him to the front door.
"James, what's wrong? Did something happen?"
"Princess, please..."
"James, we agreed there would be no secrets between us."
He turns his gaze to me, his whole body tense and I think for a brief moment I can see fear in his eyes. Concerned, I place a hand on his forearm.
"I know princess and I promise you that I will explain everything to you, to the last detail if you want me to. But now I have to leave. Urgently."
The seriousness in his makes me pull my hand back.
"Okay."
And with a quick kiss on my forehead, he's gone from the apartment.
An uneasy feeling spreads through the pit of my stomach as I get through my evening routine. Again and again, my thoughts drift to James. A thousand questions buzz through my head as I drop into the white pillows of my bed, the apartment suddenly too quiet and my thoughts too loud.
I don't know exactly when I fell asleep, but what I do know is that the night was far too short, languidly swinging myself out of bed and rubbing my hands over my eyes on the way to the bathroom. After getting ready for work, a quick glance at my phone shows me that I have no new messages. With a deep sigh and still far too sleepy, I head off to school, thankful that today is finally Friday.
About 20 minutes later, I'm already standing in front of the all too familiar brick building, which I now approach with slow steps. From far away I can already see the brown hair of Wanda. She seems to be nervously pacing back and forth in front of the entrance door, her teeth are gnawing at her fingernails and she seems to be waiting for someone. The question of who she's waiting for, however, is solved a short time later, because no sooner have I entered her field of vision than she releases her hand from her mouth and takes a few steps towards me.
"Hey, (y/n).
"Morning."
As Wanda stands in front of me, I suddenly remember why James came to see me in the first place. Nevertheless, I don't know how I should best address this topic, which is why I decide to avoid Wanda for the time being. However, I have made the calculation without Wanda, because I have hardly run a step past her, she already grabs my arm and holds me gently at it.
"(y/n), I know you suspect something...all I want to do is clear all this up so there are no misunderstandings."
"I think the misunderstandings have already occurred, but we can meet tonight and talk. If thats what you really want"
A grateful expression settles on her face and she nods at me with a smile.
"Thanks. I'll be at your place at seven."
After a brief nod from my side, she lets go of my arm and I take my leave in the direction of my classroom . A quick glance at my wristwatch tells me that my first class already starts in 15 minutes, so I just quickly put my bag down on the desk, and head for the door, to greet my students. After just a few minutes, the first of them arrive and I greet each of them with a bright smile and a cheerful "Good morning."
The sound of heavy leather boots coming in my direction makes me turn my gaze from my students to this source of noise. The familiar face of the man makes my heart beat a little faster and I'm sure a slight blush has settled on my cheeks.
"Good morning Mrs. (y/l/n)"
Charlotte's cheerful tone makes a big smile appear on my face.
"Good morning Charlotte, glad to see you."
With a quick kiss on the cheek, she says goodbye to her father, only to immediately run to her friends. Meanwhile, James comes close to me, his intrusive yet pleasant smell rising to my nose, and I have to make an effort not to close my eyes with pleasure.
"Good morning princess"
Tenderly he brushes a strand of hair from my face.
"Morning. Have you got everything sorted?"
An apologetic expression comes over his face and he smiles apologetically at me.
"Yes, everything is back to the way it should be. And believe me, I'll keep my promise and tell you all about it..."
He casts a quick glance over my shoulder before returning his eyes to my face.
"...But not here."
"Yeah right, I understand that."
"There's something else I wanted to ask you..."
Questioningly I raise my eyebrow and look at him waiting, one of his hands now buried in his neck and he looks at me almost shyly.
"...Fuck, normally I'm better at this, but I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go on a date with me? I mean now that everything is good between us again...It's all good right?"
A light laugh escapes me.
"Yes James, it's all good and I would love to go on a date with you."
A million dollar smile appears on his face.
"Perfect. I can't tonight, Charlie and I try to do a father daughter night every Friday, but how about tomorrow...I'll tell you all about it then too."
"Yeah tomorrow is fine."
"Perfect, I'll pick you up at seven."
With that he takes one look around the now completely empty corridor, the rest of the classroom doors are already closed and a restful quiet has settled over the school hallways. After James is sure that no one is to be seen, he leans forward slightly and captures my lips with his. His soft lips nestle tenderly against mine and I close my eyes with a light sigh, Bucky's tangy scent almost driving me crazy. Much too quickly he detaches himself from me again, before he says goodbye with a "See you tomorrow princess". My gaze is directed the whole time at his departing figure and only the slamming of the main door brings me back to the here and now.
With a soft sigh, I turn my gaze away from the door and enter the classroom, where my students are already waiting for me. With a smile, I stand in front of them and begin the lesson.
#Bucky Barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky imagine#bucky barnes imagine#mob au#MOB BOSS BUCKY#mob bucky barnes#mob bucky x reader#mob bucky au#mob bucky fluff#mob bucky x you#mob boss!bucky#james buchanan barnes#bucky x reader#bucky fanfic
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https://www.tumblr.com/gutsby/738369931747442688/wedded-bliss
Is this it?
YES!!! IT IS!!!
THANK YOU SO MUCH, N🫶NNIE!!! AND EVERYONE ELSE ON TUMBLR!!!
Y'all are absolutely the best fellow Fans, a girl can ask for 🥹
Wedded Bliss
☝️Here's the link for those who want to read it too 😁
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Photos found on: pexels, unsplash and GQ
Pairing: Mob boss!Bucky Barnes x Mob boss fem!reader
Warnings: Character deaths, violence, gun use, talk of drug and alcohol use, threat of sexual assault, more as the series progresses make sure to read each individual chapter warning.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10
Drabbles: Playground bully • after you left • PDA • who is Y/N?• Dot finds out • jealousy • bad news • avoiding an argument • all marked up • no matter what
What ifs: grieving • abuse
Summary: You met Bucky Barnes when you were both 6 years old. More importantly he became your best friend. Being part of the two most feared mob families wasn’t easy but you were there for each other.
Your relationship with Bucky grew and so did your role in the family business. With the help of his right hand man you learned everything you needed to from your father. He was kind and merciful when he needed to be and ruthless when he had to. By the age of 15 you knew your way around a knife and a gun. By 18 you knew where to hit to cause the most pain. As your father got sick you started taking on more responsibilities and making your own alliances. By the time you realized there was a traitor in the business it was too late and you were blindsided.
Your only option was to go to Bucky and he tried to help he really did. But there was so much he could do since his father was still head of the family. Mr. Barnes had never liked you and when the chance to get you out of his son’s life presented itself he took it.
With no where else to turn to your only option was to leave New York. To get to live another day, survive away from the only person left that loved you. A week turned into a month, a year into a decade. You were done running. The time you spent away you used to make new connections, new deals and new Allies. You were stronger, wiser and more determined to get revenge on the man that took everything from you.
After years of planning your return, done by sticking to the shadows it was time to make your presence known. But the moment your eyes connected with those steel blue eyes you had missed so much you have to ask is it a crime to still want him?
#mob boss!bucky#mob boss!reader#mob boss!bucky x mob boss!reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#mob boss!bucky barnes#angst with a happy ending#mob boss!Bucky series#bucky barnes series#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#is it a crime?
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