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[kurogxrix]

this is so cute stop😭

Clingy Mornings

Bruce Wayne x Wife!reader, Batboys x Batmom

IN WHICH your clinginess towards your husband never fails to disgust your sons.

WC: 1.5k

“And where'd you think you're going?” The sudden sound of your voice, albeit muffled partly by your pillow and sleepiness, startled your husband from his sitting place at the edge of your shared bed. You could barely even see with the morning grogginess clouding your iris, yet Bruce’s defined back muscles somewhat managed to break through your view. 

Bringing a hand up to wipe at your eyes, you couldn’t help but relish in the sight of your husband’s fine muscles flexing as he turned to meet your eyes. The way his bicep laid there all deliciously as he tipped all of his body weight onto one arm, the other moving up to caress at your cheek lovingly. There was no denying the pure adoration that swam through his beautiful blue iris, they spoke for themselves. 

“Well one of us has to be downstairs before Alfred decides that we’ve had enough sleeping time and barges into our room.” he chuckled slightly, a rare instance for The Batman, yet he’d only show this side when he was Bruce Wayne alongside you. His beautiful wife and mother of his children, adopted or not, they were yours. He had to force himself and resist the urge to chuckle as he watched your expression morph into a pout, your delicate hand pulling at his arm as you tried to get him back under the sheets with you. 

“Cmon Bruce, just a few more minutes.” you pleaded, tiredness still evident in your voice but it progressively faded the more you stayed up begging your husband to fall asleep with you again. Your hopes spike as Bruce laid behind you for a second, but the fact that he was laying on his forearm and elbow immediately crushed all of your hopes. His warm palm never left your cheek once, making you snuggle deeper into the palm that was just as big as your face. 

“I’d love to, trust me. But are you sure that you don’t want to see those demons of yours before they leave?” Of course he’d do that, of course Bruce would use your beloved children as bait for you to accompany him downstairs and finally leave the bed. You grunted something along the lines of ‘well then you better carry me’ in the crook of his neck as you threw your arms around his shoulders. This time Bruce couldn’t resist chuckling as he grabbed you delicately by the hips, hosting you onto his lap as he stood up from the plush mattress. 

Bruce hadn’t complained once about your clinginess. Truth to be told you’d been like this since the night before because you had rarely seen your beloved Bruce for nearly a whole ass week. It wasn’t unusual that you both wouldn’t see each other, on days that you’d be busy with work and on nights that the city’s menaces just wouldn’t rest. But recently everything had just been too much, too many meetings, too many villains and yet not enough time.

You winced as his hands came to lay across the bruises that now decorated your hips, two huge hand marks engraved into your skin as a remnant of the previous night. Needless to say that the reunion sex had you reaching for the stars, and the faint ache between your legs was a constant reminder of just what Bruce’s perfect girth could do to you. 

Your husband moved his hands with expertise as he descended the stairs, having only one hand under your ass to support your weight as the other laid along your back. You weren’t even concerned about a potential fall, because your husband did happen to be Batman, and his strength was unmeasured to your body weight. No matter what it was. 

Dick had been the first to notice his father walk into the living room, not that it was hard to notice him considering the absolute unit of a man that your 6’4 husband was. Your eldest son was perched up on the sofa, a bowl full of cereal and milk as the TV played in the background. He froze at first, unable to see you from your buried position in Bruce’s chest. Dick was afraid that you’d walk in shortly after you dear husband and start ripping one off on your son for eating on your couch, because even as the grown ass man that he now was, Dick was the messiest eater that you’d ever seen.

Though luckily for him that never came because it seemed like you had better plans, which included being stuck all day to your husband. No exaggeration. He watched in amusement as Bruce sat down amongst his children on the sofa, Damian not even displaying an ounce of attention towards his father as his eyes strained on the TV. could tell that it was a lazy morning for the both of you, even if Bruce claimed that it wasn’t for him. He had been clearly too bothered to dress before going down, instead clad in nothing but a pair of black boxers that he’d quickly thrown on in the morning. His warm, bare skin brought warmth against your clothed one, making you cling to him even harder than you previously were. 

Dick couldn’t help the smile growing upon his lips as he noticed the way your hands were clamped tightly around Bruce’s neck alongside the way your legs caged his waist. Like a clingy koala, he thought. 

You’d not moved from your position upon arrival, and at first your children could’ve thought that you were sleeping, and that Bruce was the clingy one after having snatched you from the comfort of your bed to snuggle with you downstairs on the couch.

Although they quickly found their assumptions to be wrong as they watched Bruce hand move up to your lower back, rubbing it adoringly before he gently tapped you to move and cuddle his side so he could eat. The bowl of cereal that he’d quickly grabbed from Alfred sat on the table staring at him, and his stomach was yelling for it. 

You squeezed in between Bruce and Damian as you climbed off your husband's lap, offering him the limited space that he’d get for the rest of the week. By all means you were still cuddled up to his side, an arm wrapped around his bicep as you rested your head on his bulging muscles. 

In the back of your mind, you heard a little voice telling you that this morning was all too weird. Why? Because the living room was far too silent for it to harbour all four of your children at once in. Maybe If you’d both been a little more aware you would’ve caught the sight of Jason trying and desperately failing in his attempts of ‘secretly’ snapping a picture of you both since the moment you’d walked in. 

Bruce could be sure that in a few hours he’d get a ping from his phone and a bunch of notifications about some sort of instagram post that your son has posted about the seemingly intimidating Bruce Wayne cuddling up to his wife. The caption would read ‘Bruce Wayne has gone soft, nobody is safe from the softpocalypse anymore’, but you didn’t know that as of now. 

Maybe you’d catch sight of that devilish grin adorning your youngest’s face, yet again that was nothing new. Or maybe you would have been able to notice the way Tim would often part from his beloved cup of coffee to check if Jason got the right angle. Although Bruce would admit later on that there’s no shame in showing some well deserved love to your spouse, he’d most definitely ground them all for playing this little ‘prank’ on him. 

You slowly returned in Bruce’s embrace after watching whatever idiotic movie that Dick had put on for god knows how long. Bruce’s bowl now empty and sitting on the coffee table before you. You took it as a sign that you could retake your spot within his arms, and your brooding husband didn’t even complain once as you got comfortable. With your face now buried in the warmth of his neck once again, you couldn’t help yourself but to give him a chaste kiss here and there.

“In front of my coffee.” you paused your movements at the disgusted tone in Tim’s words, effectively getting your other son’s to turn towards you both. You relished in their disgusted disagreeing, carefree laughter escaping you while blocking whatever sound came from the TV. You watched as your boys all left the room one by one to go on with their days, claiming that they can’t stand you two being ‘too in love’ because it was far too disgusting.

A solid minute after the room regained its original silence, save for the soft sounds of the movie still playing, Bruce allowed himself to relax in your arms. He slid down the sofa in a lazy position, keeping you tightly trapped in his embrace as he rested his head above yours. Hands regaining their comforting motions above your back, a rare and cocky smile graced Bruce’s face. Now that the whole mansion knew that you both were up and going, all in your ‘disgusting’ clinginess, he could only guess when the next person who dared to walk upon you both would come and disturb you. 

-

Hope my bruce girlies eat this shit up. also this is UNEDITED😔

[kurogxrix]

Hey y’all, especially those who have inboxed me in the recent months. I just wanted to come along here and let y’all know that IM NOT ignoring you inboxes, please don’t think that, i feel very honoured that you all have thought of my writing to be good enough to request to me something that you’ve wanted.

Though for the past 6 months, i’ve struggled a lot to write. It includes a lot of ideas and loads of drabbles that i’m unable to develop past 300 words. I’m trying my hardest to get back on track and serve yall a good fic at least this once, but i refrain from responding to my inboxes because i know i’ll forget about your requests once they’re posted. Thanks again for understanding🫶🏽🫶🏽 luv y’all

[kurogxrix]

are u ever gonna finish "feels like we're oceans apart" pt 2???

y’all i feel like till the day i’m rolling in my grave yall are gonna continue asking me this😭

[kurogxrix]

Can you do Dick Grayson/Nightwing x Fem s/o who is Raven's younger twin sister; she is kind-heart, gentle, serene and soft spoken she always helps out Dick and the other batboys on patrols and missions especially magical related missions and Raven is protective of her please?

hey love, sorry i don’t write for nightwing :( I’ve read so many of his comics but yet i still feel like i don’t understand his character deeply enough to write about him. Sorry again💕

[kurogxrix]

i will only accept bruce and batmom as the most in love couple to have ever existed. gomez and morticia addams core.

i need them to be the type of rich couple that has two sets of doors leading up to their bedroom, one of which has a bolted lock because that’s how hot and loud they are for each other in private.

an interviewer asks a young jason todd to describe his new parents in one word and without a skipping a beat his young voice goes ‘amorous’. 

some random person retweets their pictures saying “i want what they have” only for tim drake’s official account to quote tweet going “not if you want your children to like you. they’re disgusting <3”

there is not a single interview of bruce wayne next to his wife where he is not staring like an angel has just appeared next to him.

there’s youtube compilations called “bruce wayne being whipped for 2 minutes and 46 seconds” filled with clips of him licking his lips when she walks by him.

in public bruce’s hand stays on the small of her back or bringing her hands to his lips.

someone asks bruce what the smartest career decision he’s ever made is and he says marrying her without the slightest hint of irony.

podcast host: can we talk about your husband for a few minutes?

batmom: we can talk about him for hours…

every core member of the justice league (except clark who’s known bruce longest) learns that batman is bruce wayne and find it impossible to fathom that their stoic, grumpy, ever-composed second-in-command is also that one billionaire on tv who did an entire interview with his wife sat on his lap that one time.

they sing cheek to cheek by ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong around the piano together at parties, they’re so in love.

there’s moodboards on the internet of bruce wayne covered in her lipstick marks.

stephanie rounds some of the others up to watch their wedding video as a joke and then almost ends up fucking crying at how pleased and happy bruce looks as he mouths “you’re so beautiful. i’m so lucky.” when alfred walks her down the aisle.

it is not an uncommon occurrence for some newbie reporter at the wayne gala to get lost going through the myriad of hallways and stumble upon mr. and mrs. wayne making out in a dark corner.

@reveluving @cruelmissdior @diorsbrando sorry i’ve prob tagged you in way too many things today but just hear me out!!!

[kurogxrix]

HELP ITS NOT LETTING ME COMMENT SO ILL SAY IT HERE. i find this so fucking funny😭, would it be ok if i wrote a ff abt this with due credits??

Bucky: Can I play an important role in your wedding?

Y/N: I mean, I guess you can—

Bucky: Be the groom?

[kurogxrix]

Girll will you ever continue Feels like we’re oceans apart? It was soo good 😩😩

No pressure babes I just love your writing style 🫶

hey babes😋😋 simple answer but no i will not be continuing the series FOR NOW. Honest i feel like there really isn’t anybody left in the fandom anymore and it’s just gotten so weird…

just last time i was checking the neteyam x readers again and the whole section was filled with ONLY smut fics and smut fanarts. Honestly my avatar era(me and my momma been there since the first movie😋) was my favorite and defo my best, but just know that I WILL definitely come back when the new movie drops:)) by the im sure the old gems of the fandom along new ones will join

[kurogxrix]

sorry for my recent inactivity, recently i haven’t felt like writing and i haven’t felt really good in general.

i promise to start doing requests again soon

[kurogxrix]

spider squad 🕷️

[kurogxrix]

Hiii¡Could I request batman bale wife being kidnapped by joker?

I decided to write about the aftermath but i still hope you enjoy🫶🏽 Here’s your request.

[kurogxrix]

Under Wraps

Bruce Wayne x Wife!reader

IN WHICH Bruce and you deal with the aftermath of your kidnapping.

WC: 1.8k

warnings: ANGST, mentions of kidnapping, injuries, PTSD, soft!Bruce.

A/N: Ive l’ost all motivation in writing as of recently and had to FORCE myself to write this for a whole ass month😭 so it’s really nothing great.

The tense silence that lingered between you two was suffocating, albeit all windows in the room being wide open. You just couldn’t get yourself to speak, and Bruce just didn’t know what to say. He never does, but you love him either way. it’s funny to see the cocky billionaire flaunt all of his riches out to the world while he softens for you.

You sat upon the edge of your shared bed with your head in your hands, unable to make out whatever you husband was fumbling with behind you. The feeling of being in the opposite man’s grasp was so fresh to you, like a new scar that your brain harboured. Not only mentally, but the haunting mark across your wrists and neck were yet another temporary reminder of what had happened to you that night.

Oftentimes throughout the night you found yourself being ashamed for a reason or the other. Your husband’s been through worse, so have your sons, and yet your brain couldn’t help but replay the disturbing images of the moment you’d lost Bruce at the gala. You sighed in the comfort of your hands, forcing your eyelids shut impossibly further than they already were to try and shoo the nightmares away. 

Your clothes laid messily somewhere across the floor, a bloody and muddy mess that Bruce had quickly drawn off of you before ushering you into a warm shower. He’d then dressed you in a silky robe, and that was the end of it before you’d end up on the edge of the bed, alone with your thoughts despite your husband being in the same room as you.

Your ears fell deaf to the sound of constant rustling of cloth, so much that you failed to hear him crouch before you as he settled comfortably on his knees. 

Rough hands gently pried at your own, pulling them away from their protective stance around your face. The sudden lack of covering made you scrunch your nose in dismay, but a quick look from those hazel eyes before you had you relaxing. Bruce made a quick work out of the situation, silent as ever as his hands came to undo the knot around your robe that he himself had previously tied. 

You didn’t complain as his hands pushed at your robe, revealing the naked torso that Bruce had seen so many times before. The soft sigh that escaped your husband didn’t go deaf to your ears, and you closed your eyes once more as you awaited for the tingly feeling of his fingers. Seconds passed in sterile silence before you finally felt the scarred skin upon your own, except instead of balm covered fingers, you were met with his warm, bare ones. 

You opened your eyes to the sight of your dishevelled husband staring down at your bruised torso, the balms and bandages that were once in his left hand now abandoned beside you on the bed. His right hand held onto your side like an anchor, wide thumb pressing against your stomach. Bruce kneeling between your open legs was a sight that you’d never get tired of, but this time you could only pray for it to end. 

Hazel iris traced the dark spots littering your torso with a shame that was beyond their ability. Tiny hairs across his hairline stuck to his forehead due to cold sweat, and you brought a hand down to smooth them behind, little to no care for the tacky fluid rubbing onto your hand. Slowly by slowly, you began caressing your way down his face, smoothing out the wrinkles accumulating on his face before stopping on the edge of his jaw. 

The feeling of your fingers, alive and warm upon his freshly shaven jaw caused his fingers to involuntary clench on your side. The painful hiss that escaped your mouth was enough to snap your husband out of his stance, fingers almost immediately unclenching from their grip. 

Masochistic as it was, you were somewhat glad for the pain. It reminded you that you were alive and well, there in the mansion with your husband. It also managed to get those brown eyes that you loved so much to snap upwards towards you. They held so many feelings in there that you believed you could not be able to tend to them all in one night.

“I’m sorry,” it left his lips faster than your brain could comprehend, and you were left dumbfounded yourself at those two little words. Meaningless in most relationships, those words were nothing that you’d ever hear coming on of the one and only Bruce Wayne’s lips. He was cocky, always flaunting his riches to those who seeked. 

“It’s okay, it only hurt for a second.” you lied, because the throbbing pain still coursing through your right side threatened to sell you out. You could tell that Bruce wasn’t buying it, so much for being Gotham’s greatest detective. Nevertheless, your hand resumed its delicate caressing upon his cheek, a ruse to take his mind away from the little slip up. 

You could practically see the gears turning inside his head, trying to decipher why in hell you would be lying to him about this out of everything. Yet again he’d worried far too much over you in one night, you wouldn’t let his mind collapse over something so minor. 

Bruce didn’t wait for your approval before shifting on his knees, hands grabbing at the balms that looked humorously tiny compared to his large palm. The cold paste spreads smoothly upon the tip of his fingers, and soon they’re on your skin. The sensation made you flinch, but the reassuring hand that laid on your knee made you calm down. You thought it was crazy how such a simple thing could make you relax so easily, yet again marriage and love were another crazy thing of their own.

Your fingers clenched on their own as you felt

your throat tightening. No. Hell no, you wouldn’t let Bruce see you cry after the hectic course of fucking hell of days that you’d put him through. That selfless side of you that was present most of the time was yelling at you to stay strong, and yet the sight of your burly, rough and yet caring husband doting after you following your accident, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. 

You fingers clenched into a fist, nails digging little crescent moon into the skin of your palm as

you gritted your teeth together to hold in a loud sob threatening to escape past your lips involuntarily. From his spot on the floor, Bruce froze at the sight of the soft, rhythmic movements that swayed at your chest. From the corner of his eyes nevertheless, and in the dimness of the enclosed room, his senses never failed him.

Tilting his face up to meet your own, his fingers unwillingly clenched around the poor tin can of balm upon his hands. The tears that you were trying so hard to keep in pooled at your waterline, entangling in your bottom lashes before escaping on their own accord. He watched as your chest shook, exasperation taking over your body before you could even cry to him. Yet you weren’t doing it, and for some reason Bruce knew that he had some part to play in it. 

He remained silent as his hand came to clutch onto your own. Then, the sobs shook you and you just couldn’t hold it in anymore. You jumped from your seat on the edge of the bed and straight into his awaiting embrace, arms thrown tightly around the broad neck. Bruce felt his heart squeezing at the sound of your distraught cries, like the Joker himself had his heart placed and chained on some sort of death carousel. 

Nothing was more painful to Bruce than family. The bad and the good hurt. Like when happiness would grasp at his heart so hard that it’d physically hurt. Only family could achieve that for him, yet life wasn’t always favourable, and the bat knew that better than anyone else. He could make a list of things, one shittier and more tragic than the other, that’s happened to Bruce ever since he was but a little boy, and yet, his heart never got more of in a twist than at the sight of a member of his family hurting. 

Your breath staggered, and your husband felt the warm exhale of you trying to stabilise yourself upon his neck. A large, ringless, and warm palm found its way to the small of your back like a collarless dog chasing home. Suddenly, another bare hand fell upon your back as Bruce embraced you against his chest fully. 

The room was void of any noise save for the agonising sounds of your pained sobs. Bruce didn’t need to ask anything, he didn’t need to inquire to know that you were hurt. All the more scared and traumatised after your encounter with the Joker. His large palm rubbed comforting circles along your back as you laid motionless in his warm embrace. 

“You’re home now,” he muttered, as though it would help appease all of the new scars and fears that you'd acquired in the span of a few days. 

“I’m glad.” you breathed out from your position in the crook of his neck, feeling like you’d break down again if you spoke too much. The both of you occupied your positions on the floor for far longer than normal, only splitting apart to rejoin the comfort of the soft mattress after you’d whined in pain following a slight movement to adjust yourself on his lap. 

Bruce made a quick and effortless job of carrying you back to bed, pausing in his movements when you’d told him you’d feel better to sleep with the side lamp on tonight. The frown on his face deepened at your comment, yet he didn’t allow you to see it as he kept his back to you despite complying. Settling in bed was even harder for you than you expected, unable to wrap your arms around the muscular torso of your husband and rest your head upon his chest as your injury unabled you to. 

Sleep didn’t come easy either, plagued with nightmares that previously didn’t exist in the far back of your mind. Bruce was here with you through it all, his sleeping habits aiding him to wake by the moment you’d stir awake. That night, Batman slept but Bruce didn’t, but the feeling of your pulse regaining its normal beat as you laid with your back against his chest erased Bruce’s ability to care. Safe and sound under the wraps.

-

anyways that was that….

[kurogxrix]

my latest post was a month ago and even when i force myself to write i just cant do it

[kurogxrix]

john “loves to tell people you’re trying for a baby even though it’s embarrassing to you that people know you’re actively letting your husband hit it raw” price

its the way he doesn’t understand why you’re embarrassed either. the way you’ll gently kick him under the table, subtly pinch his side or eyes widening from the shock he’s telling anyone and everyone.

when you’re alone in the car ride home, one hand on the wheel while the other reaches for the back of your neck to squeeze it loving before he turns you to face him; but his eyes are locked on the road in front of him.

he only looks over when he’s stopped at the red light, looking over to meet your gaze.

“embarrassed to have my kid?” he teases, realizing you’ve been quiet since he’s made the comments earlier that day. he knows you aren’t embarrassed, he’s seen how you’ve reacted every time he tells you he’s going to give you a baby.

embarrassed is the last word that comes to mind. insistent is the first word that comes to mind.

“no,” you murmur, a pout forming on your face due to the fact he thinks that, even if it’s just teasing.

“i’d rather keep it quiet until there’s actually something to show.” cheeks warm at the admission, the possibility of having something to show sooner rather than later making your chest tighten. the thought of having a kid with price instantly forming a small smile on your lips.

and before the light turns green again, he’s pulling you closer to him while he moves to close the gap as well. lips grazing yours briefly before you’re the one to press your own firmly against his. now, he’s the one who can’t help forming a smile.

the sound of a car horn causes the two of you to separate as his hand slips away from the back of your neck. two hands firmly grasp the steering wheel and eyes focused back on the road in front of him.

“i’d rather everyone know you’re the one who is gonna make me a father,” he trails off, glancing at you for a brief moment as he finishes, “sooner rather than later.”

the words you thought quietly to yourself moments ago were now spoken out loud by him; sometimes you were convinced he could read your mind.

“sooner rather than later.” you quietly repeated as you turned your head to look out the window, fingers mindlessly toying with the engagement ring that decorated your hand.

[kurogxrix]

MO🌙N KNIGHT | SUMMON THE SUIT

[kurogxrix]

RAHHHHH

Chapter Twenty-Two - That was a long time ago

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again.

Warnings: PTSD/nightmares, references to story's earlier violence/threat of sexual assault, sexual content

18+ - see Masterlist for full list of warnings Series Masterlist

You couldn’t see, everything was black and you felt the pressure of something wrapped around your head – you must be blindfolded. You couldn’t move your arms, your wrists are tied. There are hands gripping your shoulders pushing you to step forward. You can hear laughter and jeering near your face but they somehow seem far away at the same time.

“Let’s just hope she’s not been too used up by Barnes for us to have some fun with her” someone snarls into your ear.

You realise you’re stepping on something. Something soft, but not entirely – there are hard bits too. It’s unsettlingly warm under your bare feet. It suddenly hits you that you’re walking on people. Bodies. Flesh. You try to get away but everywhere you step you touch another with your foot. You’re screaming now. There is the sound of guns in the background behind you, far away for now but getting closer. There must be so many of them.

The shots are much louder. You try to run but the unseen hands holding you tight around your shoulders won’t let you go. You continue to stumble across the soft flesh under your feet, pleading with your assailant to let you run.

The guns are close now. Very close…

You can’t hear anything else but the gunshots. And the screaming. So much screaming.

You’re shouting, panicking. You try to flee but you’re caught in some sort of material, tangled up in a knot. You kick your legs and swing your arms to get loose. Then a strong pair of hands are on you and you’re pinned down, you can’t move. Someone is speaking to you.

“Doll…Doll…It’s okay…It was only a dream. You’re safe with me”.

You know that voice. You look up, it’s Bucky. You gaze into his azure eyes and they invoke a sudden calmness within you. You know those eyes well. You’re safe.

He’s looking at you with worry, his arms are wrapped around you, holding you down as he tries to soothe you. He’s dressed in a grey t-shirt and sweatpants. You’re laying in a bed with him.

With Bucky?

Oh yes. Now you remember.

You’re wrapped up in the bedsheets. Your chest rising and falling as you calm down and look around at your surroundings. Bucky’s guest room. You’re alright, you’re with Bucky.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry” you mutter.

He shakes his head, cooing softly. “It’s alright, you don’t have to apologise for anything”.

He kisses the side of your head and tenderly lays you back on the pillow.

A firm knock is coming from the bedroom door and Steve pokes his head round a second later, looking into the room with concern.

“Thanks Steve, we’re okay. Just bad dreams” Bucky explains, waving him away.

Steve nods, looking at you sympathetically before ducking out again.

“Fuck…” you whisper.

“I know” Bucky replies, holding your back against his chest.

“What time is it?” you ask groggily.

“A little after ten”.

You nod, relieved you’re off work today.

“Do you need to be up doing stuff?” you ask quietly.

“No. You’re my priority” he responds.

“Bucky, you don’t have to-”

“No. This is where I need to be” he sternly cuts you off, and you know there’s no room for argument.

You both lay there for a bit longer in silence.

“I know this is a stupid question, but how are you feeling today?” he asks warily into your ear.

You sigh, wriggling into the sheets as you ponder his question and stare out across the luxurious room. You’re not even sure, really. You’re still dazed and dissociated. Your mind almost isn’t letting you tackle everything yet, too afraid to open a door you can’t close. You know it’ll hit you eventually, but for now everything just feels a bit fuzzy. You feel the cut on your cheek from the nail, it’s bumpy and jagged but doesn’t seem deep. You can’t feel the dried blood on your face anymore so wonder if Bucky cleaned you up.

“Uh…weird. I feel weird” you admit.

“I’m so sorry, this is all my fault” he tells you softly, his voice is strained in a way you’ve never heard before.

“We had no idea they were watching us. They teamed up with another syndicate so we didn’t recognise any of their guys on the street. We think there may have been a mole amongst my men too, feeding them our locations, Sam and Steve are looking into it now”.

You nod weakly, feeling tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You want to hate him, scream at him for getting you mixed up in all this. But in spite of your anger…part of you feels it just doesn’t matter. You nearly died just a few hours ago and rage, even though justified, seems trivial in the big picture now. Your entire world has been spun on its head. You’re alive, you were saved. You’re okay.

“If I had any idea that you…that they…” he mutters as he trails off, his voice quiet. He inhales and composes himself, you can tell he’s thinking carefully about what to say. It’s clear to you that Bucky is very rarely caught off guard, or that things like this happen without him knowing. He’s very obviously rattled by this lapse.

“I…I thought I’d lost you” he admits. “When we got there we surrounded them pretty easily. They were distracted, messy – didn’t see us coming. They told us you’d escaped and they couldn’t find you. Their whole plan had fallen apart as they tried to hunt you down - making them weak and forgetting their strategy so we took them with no trouble. All I could think about was how scared I was…and how impressed I was that you derailed all of their careful planning” he chuckles darkly.

You manage a small smile at that, but then Pierce’s words to you echo in your head.

I have never seen anything like it. He just kept coming.

You feel a chill up your spine as you try to imagine Bucky taking them ‘with no trouble’, assault rifle in hand. You remember all the blood spilled, the carnage. The screaming. So much screaming, You’re relieved you didn’t witness any of it. It’s a strange feeling, you feel utterly protected in his arms – but knowing what he’s capable of also freezes your bones.

“Then I found your shoe but nothing else and…I didn’t know what to think. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t found you…” he whispers. “Or if I had, but it was too late…”

You turn in the bed to face him. He looks close to tears, vulnerable and broken – you’ve never seen him like this before.

Your hand moves to his cheek, tenderly stroking a finger across it and down to his jawline.

“But you did find me”.

He smiles back at you with such warmth and sentiment that your breath hitches.

“Actually Doll, you found me”.

You pull his face towards you and kiss him softly. It’s sweet, delicate – none of the hunger or desperation from your first night together. He kisses back, gently cupping the back of your head.

You push yourself against him, your leg wrapping around his waist so that your hips are aligned with his. You hold him tightly, not letting a slither of light escape between you as you nuzzle into his neck, mewling gently into him as you pull his shirt up and move your lips down to his sternum.

“Doll…” he protests weakly as you go to kiss his collarbone. “Please…”

He carefully moves your head away from his chest and you snap back up to look at him, your eyes wide.

“Oh, Bucky I’m sorry. Do you not want…I’m sorry if I misread…?” you trail off, embarrassed by your presumption.

“Of course I do” he soothes. “But it’s not right. You’re vulnerable right now, you’ve been through a lot…this big traumatic thing…I would be taking advantage”.

You groan, shaking your head as your hold his face between your hands.

“Please Buck…I need you. I want this” you tell him softly, your eyes searching his desperately.

He sighs, unable to resist the gentle pleading in your voice and how you intimately left the ‘y’ off of his name. After last night he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to tell you no again. He wants this as much as you do, he just doesn’t want you to regret it when things are clearer for you.

But his faint resistance fades away as you kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck and grinding your hips into him. It’s an immediate relief for you, the euphoria of being in his embrace once again cutting through your fog. He moves you effortlessly onto your back and pulls your t-shirt over your head, dotting butterfly kisses across your chest and stomach before unclasping your bra. He takes your breasts in his hands and runs his thumbs across your nipples and as you hum and wriggle against him, your fingers combing through his hair as you tug at his shirt and slip it off.

He shimmies your underwear down your leg and begins a fresh trail of kisses from your ankle to your thigh. He knows he can’t verbalise everything he wants to say, every apology or regret, so he speaks silently to your body instead. He moves his head between your thighs and moves to kiss you there but you protest and paw at his shoulders to bring him back up to you again.

“I just want to feel you. Now…please”. The desperation rises in your voice.

He smiles fondly and moves up to you. You kiss him again and he swiftly removes his sweats and underwear before lining himself with you. You purr with anticipation, practically quivering beneath him as he slips his tip inside of you. You both groan at the sensation and he looks up at you, checking this is okay. You smile up at him in agreement, bleary eyed.

Bucky slowly pushes himself fully inside, filling you to the hilt. There’s that familiar sting. Your eyes flutter shut and you push your head back into the pillow – but his metal fingers find your cheek and he whispers that he wants you to look at him. You oblige, your eyes locking onto his as he begins to thrust. His movements are careful and considered, powerful but without aggression – a world away from your first time. Your moans bubble up in your throat as he lightly brushes his nose against yours, his mouth hanging open as he savours the feeling. Your eyes are locked onto one other as if both in a trance.

Your last time together was littered with declarations of arousal and lewd whispers but neither of you speak this time. You become lost in the moment, there is nothing else but the feeling of Bucky inside you and the intensity of his gaze.

He holds you close, so close that his weight feels heavy on top of you but you don’t mind because all you want to do is feel him in every possible way. Your hands run along his back, up to his shoulders and down each of his arms. It’s as if you are committing each part of him to memory, a map of his body to file away somewhere within yourself. Bucky is groaning lightly and each sound he makes is music to your ears. You can smell his cologne transferring onto your skin, the two of you melting into one.

It’s tender, loving. You feel safe and you feel seen by him. This is the comfort you need. The world seems a tiny bit better now. You kiss him deeply to reassure him this is what you want, this is all you want. You are equal players on this stage. You regret many things in your life but you already know this will not be one of them.

Your climax sneaks up on you, catching you off guard. It’s not a slow burn but a sudden ignition, sending shockwaves through your limbs as your body stutters beneath his, your face betraying your surprise as you emit tiny gasps. Bucky only smiles at you – the morning light a halo framing his face, his hair fluffy from sleep. You suddenly think that image of him will be burned into your memory forever.

The pulsing of your walls triggers his own orgasm in turn, and he cries out as he buries his head on your chest. His hips lurch as he fills you with his warmth, his breath hot against your skin.

You both lay entwined for a while, enjoying the intimacy with only the sounds of your collective heavy breathing in your ears. You begin to rake your fingers through his hair, basking in the post-coital afterglow as you look around the room. Your attention is caught by your lingerie set in a heap on the floor by the bed and you can’t suppress a sudden giggle that falls out of your mouth.

“What?” asks Bucky, languidly pulling his head up to look at you.

“Oh it’s nothing” you titter dismissively.

“Try me” he presses.

“Well…” you nod to the floor. “When I put on that underwear yesterday I was hoping to get lucky. And I did…just not entirely the way I expected”.

Bucky groans. “Is it too much to ask that you don’t talk about wantin’ to fuck other men while I’m still inside you, please?” he scolds, an edge of anger within his restrained tone.

“You asked!” you tease him. “Also you’re not allowed to get mad about Peter anyway. What about Allegra?” you jab his ribs.

“Ow” he jerks up, pulling himself out of you and rolling onto his back. You grimace as you feel the collective spend seep out of you and onto his expensive sheets.

“Nothing happened with Allegra. I just wanted to make you jealous” he says casually as he sits up against the headboard.

You scowl. “Yeah, that was fun…”

“I said I was sorry” he grins, kissing you on the cheek. “Besides…it worked didn’t it?”

“Pig” you sneer, shoving him slightly.

He wraps you in his arms and locks you beneath him as you squeal and try to wrestle him off you. It feels so good to be here with him, you could almost be just two people enjoying each other’s company on a normal Saturday morning – you could almost trick yourself into forgetting the events of the last twenty four hours.

The roughhousing settles and you lay still for a bit. He spoons you from behind and you relish how the skin of your back feels against his bare chest. He’s so warm, so sturdy – you feel your eyelids getting heavy again as your body relaxes.

But then those thoughts creep back again, seeping into your brain and poisoning the glow.

“Buck…”

“Mmm” he says sleepily.

“What did you do to Pierce?” Your voice is slightly shaky.

There’s a pause. You can’t see him from this angle, but can feel him tense up behind you.

“Does it matter?” he counters.

“I suppose it doesn’t” you respond hazily. “Is he dead?”

“Yes” Bucky shoots back immediately, his tone unemotional. “None of them will ever come near you again. I promise”.

You nod. He draws you closer to him, his metal arm snaking around your torso. You run your fingers over it. Again you’re drawn to its beauty, the intricacy, the contrast of strength and flexibility. You think back to when he made you climax with this arm in his car, quivering against him as he played your body perfectly.

But he’s also used it to kill, to maim. For violence and misery. It strikes you that his arm is a metaphor for his own duality – to you he’s the charming man you see in quiet moments, who makes you laugh and steals your breath with his kisses – but to the outside world he’s a ruthless killer, a force to be reckoned with, striking fear into hearts of many.

“He told me about the Winter Soldier” you say, so quietly you’re not even sure he hears.

He goes rigid again. The air in the room seems thicker.

“That was a long time ago” he mumbles quietly.

You roll over to face him. He almost looks ashamed, his eyes staring off into the distance. You stroke his face and he leans into your hand.

“I’ve done a lot of terrible things” he mumbles.

His eyes are back on you again now.

“It’s not like that now. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not squeaky clean, but it’s nothing like it used to be. I try to keep my nose clean and we make most of our cash legitimately. What happened last night wasn’t a typical Friday night for me. But I do what I have to. It’s my job. I’ll never lie to you again Doll, I promise. But I need you to know – it means if you ask me something that doesn’t have a nice answer, I won’t sugar coat it”.

You nod, a brief chill running through you as you consider his words. You pull his face towards you as you lean in to kiss him.

“I know who you were, and I know who you are”.

[kurogxrix]

you don’t realize how many times i stalk your page waiting for an update🙏🏽 AHABSKSNDKS IM SO GLAD SHE SLAPPED HIM BECAUSE HE REALLY NEEDED THAT.

Chapter Twenty - Of course I did

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again.

Warnings: Dark content, mention of guns/shooting, descriptions of dead bodies and blood, threats/suggestions of sexual assault, minor character fatally wounded/dying, reader is frightened/in danger

18+ - see Masterlist for full list of warnings

Series Masterlist

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you’re awoken by shouting. You must’ve fallen asleep, which makes sense as it’s so late, although you aren’t sure what time it is exactly. You instinctively go to check for your phone but then remember they have it. Your body is exhausted from the stress of all that has happened. You have a headache, the wine from your date has already transitioned into the beginnings of a hangover and you haven’t had any water in hours. The Thai dinner you so enjoyed earlier now feels heavy in your stomach. The gash on your cheek stings sharply, the bleeding has mostly stopped but not entirely. You feel dizzy, losing blood from your wound most likely not helping that.

The sound of yelling again jerks you to attention, the adrenaline coursing through you as your fear unfurls once more. You can’t make out what they’re saying until the door crashes open and bodies rush into the room. You try to count the number of feet you can hear on the floorboards but can’t figure it out. Two of them, you think? Three? They’re shouting out your name, their voices thick with anger. You can’t see them but you know they must have guns raised, searching every square inch for you.

One of them tries the light switch but grunts in frustration when nothing happens. You can hear the snap of plastic as he forces it up and down. Seconds later the room is partially illuminated by flashlights, the circles of light flitting around the room.

You swallow, clasping your hand over your mouth to mask any sounds you might make involuntarily. You stood a good chance in the dark where they couldn’t see you, but once that light hits you…then you’re done for.

“Come on sugar, come out come out wherever you are…” one of them sneers mockingly into the darkness.

You can’t see him but you just know it’s Rumlow.

“I’m gonna ring Jones’ neck for this” snarls another voice.

“Don’t worry, Pierce will take care of him” replies Rumlow darkly.

They chuckle for a moment as they scour the room.

“I’m gonna make this bitch pay when we find her” says the other voice again.

“Let’s just hope she’s not been too used up by Barnes for us to have some fun with her” laughs Rumlow. “I wanna rearrange her guts”.

Your stomach drops and you choke back a wave of nausea as they edge closer to your hiding spot. You’re seconds away from discovery now. Should you leap out? Use the element of surprise against them?

Don’t be stupid. They have guns. They’re infinitely stronger and faster than you. They most likely have combat training based on how they’re dressed. Maybe it would be better to go quickly, though. To be shot in the head and be snuffed out in an instant after you jump out - rather than be slowly tortured and sexually assaulted and God only knows what else.

You think of your family. Your friends. Wanda. Everything you didn’t get a chance to say to them all. All of the love you have for them. You think of the bakery. You think of your contentment as you bake, happily frosting cupcakes and humming to yourself as you sing along to the radio. You’d give anything to be there now. Hell, even baking in your tiny apartment kitchen would be a luxury. You’d never take it for granted again if you made it out alive.

You hold onto that image in your head to help calm you and give you hope, grounding yourself with the memory and keeping yourself sane. One of the flashlights reaches your corner of the room and moves closer to you. Everything goes into slow motion. You hold your breath as the light reaches the edge of your dress...

But then.

A scream cuts through the air. A clear scream. From somewhere beneath you. Rumlow and the other man or maybe men spin round, their flashlights ripping away from where you are and instead turn to face the door.

“What the…” Rumlow starts.

And then there’s another scream which cuts him off, and then the crystal clear roar of gunfire. You tense up. It seems to be coming from the corridors beneath you.

“Jesus Christ” spits out the other man.

In seconds you hear their heavy feet as they stomp out of the door and rush back down the stairs.

You freeze, panting. You can hear more now. There are more bullets, it must be a machine gun the way the sounds are rattling through the air like that. There’s muffled shouting and crying out from below.

It goes on like this for some time, your eyes are wide like saucers as you press your ear to the floorboards. You try to make out something they’re saying. Anything. Any hint as to what’s going on or who is shooting. But it’s all lost in a sea of bullets and yelling.

And then…silence.

Your stomach drops again. You know what that means. There’s nobody left.

Could it be…?

No. Surely not. He said he wasn’t coming. Why would he come? The last thing you said to him was that you were going to give him to the feds.

And if it’s not him, it’s only a matter of time before they find you too. You’re a sitting duck up here. You were lucky enough to get out of it once, but it wouldn’t happen twice.

Against all of your instincts you emerge from your corner and tiptoe across the attic. You’re barely thinking, just on autopilot. You open the door gently, careful not to make any noise. You squint as you leave the darkness and take each stair warily as you descend, listening out for any tell-tale sounds of what’s going on. But there’s only silence.

Your face stings and now you’re back in the light you can see your chest and dress is covered in old blood. You can feel the hardened stain on your cheek too, mixed with the remains of your tears. You’re shrouded in a thick layer dust from your hiding place in the attic, your ripped dress hanging pitifully off you. You can only imagine how you must look.

As you step out into the hallway you gasp. The wall in front of you is decorated with bloodstains. A few feet away a man is slumped onto his front, laying facedown in a pool of his own blood. From the way the blood has hit the wall his insides must be swiss cheese. You deduce that it’s one of the men from the attic. He didn’t get very far.

You’ve never seen a dead body before. It’s frightening. Not like in the movies. He looks almost inhuman with his impossible stillness. Stiller than a person should ever be. You can smell copper in the air from his blood, the stench of sweat and gunpowder lingers in your nose and makes your stomach churn.

You creep around him and swallow back your nausea. Around the next corner you see Rumlow flat on his back. He made it a bit further. His eyes are closed and circles of deep red splatter his torso. You inhale sharply, stepping around him carefully. You notice that his weapon is gone, whoever finished him off must’ve taken it with them.

You nearly scream when you feel a pressure on your ankle as you stalk by. You look down and to your horror Rumlow has his cold fingers gripped around you. He is still alive, but barely. His hand feels like ice. Staring up at you through squinted eyelids, you can see the fear on his face as his lifeforce is gently ebbing away from him. He tries to speak but can only groan, making a nauseating gurgling sound and you realise his internal injuries are taking hold as the light fades from his eyes.

It’s too much. You begin to break into a sprint. All of your fear from the evening comes tumbling out and you can’t stop. You know you should be quiet, carefully inspect what’s around each corner before you come barrelling around them, but all of that dies as the adrenaline courses through you.

As you fling yourself through the hallways you find them littered with more bodies and bloodstains. Puddles of blood are everywhere, stains of grisly footsteps of the retreating victors brazenly weaved around the fallen. There must’ve been even more of them than you saw in the warehouse. You don’t see Pierce amongst them, but then you aren’t really looking too carefully.

There are angry red blemishes splattered across the walls and your bare feet hurt when you step on bullet casings but you can’t stop now. You shimmy around each fallen figure as you aimlessly continue to run, unsure of where you’re going or if you’re turning back on yourself but just knowing that you need to keep going. Keep going. Keep going. Don’t stop.

You don’t know when you started crying but your tears don’t slow you down. You whip around another corner only to find yourself bouncing off something, the force of your speed means the impact is hard and it knocks you onto your back.

You begin to scream as you sit up and realise you’ve hit a person. An alive person, not a body. A man. A man with a gun. And your fear takes over. You can’t even look at him properly as you know this is it now, this is where your luck runs out. End of the line.

There are arms on your shoulders and someone is talking at you but you can’t hear any words, can’t see their face through the haze of your tears. It’s only when they begin to shake you gently when you realise…

Sea blue eyes.

Sea blue eyes looking into yours. You know those eyes.

Bucky.

You gasp as his features finally become clear in your vision. You can see his lips moving but can’t hear what he’s saying as you stare up at him. You reach out and clutch at his chest as if checking it’s really him and he’s really there. His face is contorted in concern and there’s a worrying amount of blood on his shirt. Not his, though. You can guess that. Suddenly it’s like your ears are switched back on and you can hear him again.

“Doll? Doll? Are you alright? Say something, baby?” His voice is panicked, strained with fear as he places his assault rifle onto the ground. You eye it anxiously.

“Bucky?” you ask weakly. 

Maybe you’re hallucinating, maybe you were shot seconds ago and this is your brain’s confused final flourish as you succumb to the darkness.

“Is it really you?”

His concern morphs into a relieved smile and you melt inside.

“Yeah it’s me, Doll. I’ve got you, don’t worry” he soothes.

You hurl yourself at him, clutching at his torso and throwing your arms around his back as you move your head into the crook of his neck. Squeezing him tightly with relief, pawing at him to check he’s really there. He picks up your legs and you wrap them around his waist, clinging onto him for dear life.

“You came” you whisper into his ear.

“Of course I did” he says matter of factly. “Where have you been Doll? We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Have to say I laughed when they told me you’d got loose and they’d lost you somewhere. Those assholes didn’t know who they were dealing with, huh?”

You ignore his question, gazing back at him with confusion.

“But…you said you weren’t coming? In the text?”

Bucky chuckles, his tone soft as he searches your face.

“I knew immediately those messages weren’t you. You know how mushy those fucks made you sound? I knew it was HYDRA and sent a bunch of my guys here with me to get you out. I just wanted to throw Pierce off the scent to buy us time.”

You gawped at him stupidly.

“You really think I’d leave you here, Doll?” He furrowed his brow, studying you.

“Well…yeah. We had that fight. You said…” you muttered.

Bucky narrows his eyes. “I would never leave you to die, Doll. No matter what happened between us”.

He looks at you with a flash of anger and hurt amongst the relief, clearly wounded that you’d think so little of him.

He lowers you off of him and carefully places you on the ground. “Can you stand?”

You nod, steadying yourself on the wall as your feet hit the floor. Bucky keeps a hand firmly on your waist as he inspects your face. You flinch as his finger brushes against your cheek wound. He huffs with rage.

“Those fuckers. Those stupid assholes” he mumbles furiously.

“It was…” you go to tell him about the nail in the attic but he cuts you off.

“They’re never going to hurt you again, alright? I’m so sorry Doll. I’m so sorry this happened, it’s all my fault” his voice sounds small, broken. He cups your chin tenderly. “I’m sorry that I didn’t protect you…”

Your eyes widen as you realise the gravity of his words when they hit you and a rush of emotion surges within.

He was right.

Before you know what’s happening, you reach out and slap his face. He glares back at you in confusion, touching his cheek where you struck him. You can’t stop yourself, pummelling his chests with your fists as you unravel, all of the stress, fear and anger pouring out of you like an unstoppable tidal wave.

He catches your wrists and holds them tightly in place, you howl with frustration at how powerless you feel.

“This IS your fault James” you bark at him. “How the fuck am I caught up in your turf wars?? We aren’t even DATING. I get wrestled into the back of a van and hauled off to some warehouse in the middle of nowhere with some psychopathic gang…tied up and hunted down…and then there’s a fuckin’ massacre…”

You trail off when you notice he’s smiling wistfully at you.

“What?” you scoff in disbelief. “How can you possibly be smiling right now?”

“I’m just happy you’re okay” he says softly. “You can yell at me all you want, hit me all you like, because for a while there I wasn’t sure you’d ever be able to yell at me again”.

You’re caught off guard by that. You hadn’t even thought about how he might’ve felt through this. You feel a twinge in your heart. He was scared. He thought you were dead. You stare into his big blue eyes and your mouth falls open slightly at the intensity of his scrutiny.

Before you know it you’re on him, kissing him for the second time that evening (maybe morning now?) The kiss is desperate and passionate, eager and hungry. He presses you up against the wall and you can feel him panting, his hands are all over you as if doing an audit of your body. It’s as if he’s affirming that all of you is still here. He kisses your neck, your shoulders, your arms. You momentarily forget that you’re covered in your own blood, or that he’s covered in the blood of men he gunned down.

He pulls away and begins to whisper in your ear. He tells you he’s sorry, for this, for all of it. He tells you he’ll never let anything like this happen to you again. He tells you how brave you are, how smart you were to get away. You allow yourself to get swept away by his words, soothing you and comforting you, your eyes closed as your arms are draped around his neck.

“Buck, you here?” comes a voice from around the corner.

Your body tenses as your survival instincts are still heightened but Bucky kisses your cheek after feeling your posture shift. “Don’t worry, it’s just Steve” he whispers soothingly.

“We’re here” he calls back.

Steve emerges from around the corner. He’s sweaty and blood spattered like Bucky, clutching a rifle. His face lightens when he sees you.

“Hey - there you are” he says sunnily.

You smile back at him. A genuine smile, possibly the first one you’d ever given him.

“Here I am”.

He looks you up and down, struck by the contrast to how you looked when he saw you earlier. Then…pretty in your date outfit and heels, hair and make-up slightly askew after a few glasses of wine but still intact. Your eyes fiery and passionate as you gave Bucky a dressing down. And now…your face was bloodied, some sort of injury across your cheek. Your dress ripped and blood soaked, a layer of dust dirtying your arms. You were barefoot. Your mascara had run down your face in thick black streaks and your hair was knotted and tangled. Mainly he was struck by your eyes, now dulled and frightened. No sign of the heat he had seen earlier. You just clung on to Bucky’s side meekly.

But you were alright, that was the main thing, and he was relieved. You may be Bucky’s girl but he had grown fond of you too. He thought you were good for his best friend, challenging him and keeping him on his toes. Buck needed that in his life. A partner to be his equal, not merely a sex toy.

He was also relieved for Bucky’s sake. He had gone wild when he got the messages, throwing his whiskey glass across the room and yelling. They were just leaving for the night, he’d run to him and didn’t understand what had happened. Bucky was apoplectic, shouting and throwing furniture. He knew you’d been taken, he knew it was Pierce. He ordered them to round up as many men as they could, emptying out the weapons storage as they followed the location pin. They’d even called in a favour with Stark who was more than happy to lend a hand after learning that Pepper’s star baker was in danger - sending over reinforcements and a few extra top of the line rifles.

The car ride was quick as they sped, but Bucky was silent throughout, his eyes focused out on the road. The only sign he was tense were his hands, clenched into tight fists at his sides.

“She’ll be alright. We’ll get her out, Buck” Steve had told him.

Bucky just smiled thinly and nodded, the worry etched over his face. He had turned back to look out at the road again…

“Perimeter is clear, Buck” Steve explained.

Bucky nodded “Thanks Steve”. He stepped forward to leave and you gripped him harder. He turned back and took your hand.

“C’mon Doll, let’s go home” he beckoned, guiding you through the halls.

[kurogxrix]

STOP IT WHAT DOES TJAT MEAN😟😟WHAT ARE U PLOTTING

Chapter Eighteen - Weakness

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again

Warning: Dark - Kidnapping and false imprisonment, threats with a gun, threats of violence/sexual assault, references to murder, rough handling of reader

18+ - see Masterlist for full list of warnings

Series Masterlist

You briefly allow yourself to hope that this is Bucky and his men. That he's doing this as some sort of twisted punishment for what you said. Yes, that would be a super fucked up thing to hope for, but at least you'd stand a chance of getting out of this alive.

As time goes on it becomes clear that this isn't Bucky, though. You don't recognise any of their voices. You have no idea who these men are.

This is bad. Really bad.

You do your best to stay calm, knowing panicking will mean you won't have your wits about you. You need to stay focused, do everything you can to stay alive.

Finally, after a very bumpy car ride as you laid on the floor of the vehicle, you get to wherever you're going. The journey was about forty minutes you think, maybe an hour, you try and work out how far that might be out of the city, but to no avail. They park up and you hear people step out to talk. You strain to hear what they're saying through whatever fabric is over your head - there are at least two of them, maybe three. They don't use names and don't give anything away about who they might be or what they're doing with you. They just mutter about the boss, and everything being in place for something. You can't make out the rest.

Suddenly the door is wrenched open, you are tugged up to your feet and snatched roughly out of the vehicle. It hurts and you know you'll likely have bruises up your arms from where they've manhandled you. You're standing outside again when the gun impatiently taps on the back of your head and you take that as indication to walk. You can't see so you have no idea where you're going, a firm hand on your shoulder is guiding you to walk in the direction they want you in. You clomp awkwardly in your date night heels.

"Please..." you murmur quietly from under the hood. "If you want money I can get you my savings and everything from my job's safe...I don't have much but-".

The gun digs hard into your skull again and you shut up suddenly, not stupid enough to continue.

You're lead into some sort of building, trying to count the number of turns and doors you take, doing your best to form a mental picture of the layout. You can feel voices on either side of you and know multiple sets of eyes are on you as you pass by even though you can't see them. Eventually you are pushed down into a rigid chair and the hood is torn from your head.

Your eyes strain under the bright lights after being in the darkness for so long and you do your best to adjust to where you are. The lights are lurid and unflattering, adding a disorientating edge to the already stark space.

You peer across the room as you blink and get your bearings. You're in a warehouse or factory it seems, rusting machinery surrounds you and everything looks decayed and far beyond its best days. The air smells of rusty water and damp mould.

Soon your eyes find your captors, standing ten or so feet away. There's a group of them dressed in combat gear. They all have various weapons strapped to them – sat in holsters, slung over their shoulders, tucked carefully into their palms. Ammo clips are affixed to belts draped around their waists, bandoliers rest threateningly across their torsos. You shudder at the sight. There are more of them than you realised.

A muscular dark haired man stares back at you hungrily and you flinch instinctively at his gaze.

An older man in a dark suit and tie smiles kindly as he heads towards you, his professional attire a jarring contrast to the others in their almost-military like get up. He seems warmer than his 'colleagues' and you can tell he was a handsome man in his younger days.

You begin to panic, the reality of seeing your kidnappers in front of you with all of their weaponry suddenly triggering your flight or fight response. You squirm in your restraints, head jerking side to side as you hunt for anything or anyone that might help you. You feel exposed too, still wearing your tight evening dress from your date. Your body is on show more than you'd like – not that there's an optimum outfit for this type of scenario. You've also managed to lose a shoe somewhere on the walk from the car to here. You're vulnerable, weak. They all know that too.

"Please..." you plead weakly. "I don't know why I'm here".

"I know it must be scary, honey. But try not to panic. We aren't going to hurt you" says the suited man, his voice low and soothing.

"Speak for yourself" laughs the dark haired man, and the rest of the group laugh coldly with him.

The suited man shoots them a look and they all shut up instantly. He must be their leader, you understand. The 'boss' they mentioned.

"Like I said. Nobody is going to hurt you sweetie, as long as you behave yourself. Alright? Can you do that for me?" He coos at you as he comes closer.

You nod rapidly, your eyes widening. You have no interest in finding out what happens if you don't behave.

"Smart girl. But I should've guessed. Barnes isn't gonna pick himself a dummy is he?" He laughs.

Your eyes narrow at the mention of Bucky's name. "Barnes...?" you mumble as things finally start to fall into place.

"Uh huh" the man continues. "The man himself. We know you're well acquainted".

Your throat suddenly feels very dry. "I think y-you have the wrong girl" you stammer. "We aren't together, me and him."

The man smiles, his sweet tone never faltering.

"Well, are you sure about that sweetie? Maybe think about it again. We know he was outside of your apartment when we picked you up. We know he sent a huge order of balloons to your workplace. We know you spent the night with him at his house after some canoodling in a nightclub. We know he sends his men to follow you around town. And he's always in that cute little bakery of yours, isn't he? Seems like pretty damning evidence to me, sweetheart".

You internally admit that you see their logic.

You nearly vomit as you begin to understand just how long they have been following you. Bucky too. Did he know they were following him? How could his surveillance team miss them??

You choke out a sound which is a mix between a laugh and a sob.

"No no...you gotta believe me. We did spend the night together yes, but that's it. He follows me because he likes to torture me. He doesn't really want me. I'm just a... a plaything to him. He's been making my life a misery. He doesn't care, not really. Please...you've gotta believe me..." you're practically begging now.

The men all laugh like you've told a great joke and the suited one speaks again.

"Lovers' quarrel huh sweetie? We've all been there. But listen, you don't know him like we do - he's always been a hump and dump kinda guy. Been that way since he discovered his pecker. Trust me, he used to work for me back in the day and he was the same way then, too. He doesn't keep them around, but he keeps you around. That's no accident."

You almost laugh at the ridiculousness of this terrifying thug validating your relationship with Bucky. This was the last way you ever thought you'd receive reassurance about how Bucky feels about you.

"He used to work for you?" you ask quietly.

The man nods, a hint of a smile lurking on his solemn face.

"A long time ago. We taught him everything he knows. He'd be nothing if I didn't take him under my wing. Oh - where are my manners? My name is Alexander Pierce. This fine gentleman is Brock Rumlow" he gestures to the dark haired man who sneers back at you.

You instinctively know Rumlow was the one from the car with the gun pressed into your spine. You feel like a strong hatred for him like you've never felt for a stranger before. You just know in your gut that he's a bad man. A dangerous man.

That they all are.

Pierce introduces some of the other men who all share the same identical snarl on their faces. In your peripheral vision you see more figures at the side of the warehouse, weaving in and out of the doors. There are more of them here than you initially thought. The place is swarming with them.

You scan the room again and take in more of the layout. There are the big double doors you came through on one side, that's where the hub of activity seems to be with people coming and going. A lot of old machinery is dotted across the wide room, each in varying states of disrepair. There's a raised mezzanine level running across one side which seems to be accessed by ladders but it doesn't seem to go anywhere. And then finally in the far corner you spot a solitary door. Fire exit, maybe?

Pierce stands in front of you as your attention snaps back to him. He begins to talk, seemingly relishing your fear.

"You may know us as HYDRA. We knew Barnes as the Winter Soldier. He was the deadliest assassin on the east coast, maybe the country" continues Pierce. "He could put a bullet between anyone's eyes before they'd even noticed him. We recruited him when he was very young, he took to training like a duck to water. It was all very innate, you know the type. Very valuable to our little organisation, as you can imagine".

Pierce mimes a gun action with his hand, his mouth imitating blowing a gun barrel with his finger.

You swallow nervously as you listen. HYDRA rings a bell, you've heard of them – maybe seen a headline or two - knew they were bad men involved with organised crime and terrorist activity, but you couldn't recall much else. You knew Bucky was capable of awful things, and you knew deep down he would've killed somewhere along the way, but hearing it like this from Pierce chilled you to the bone. Bucky was scary. You cringed thinking about all the times you'd berated or challenged him. How lucky you'd been to not push him too far...

"But being just a hitman wasn't enough for him" Pierce continued. "So he broke away from us and started his own organisation, using everything he learned from his time here. Teamed up with some old military buddies of his and built themselves from the ground up, using all the connections and knowledge he learned from us".

Steve and Sam.

"They took out nearly 80% of our numbers after they surprised us one evening, an evening not unlike this one actually. A total massacre. Barnes was like a terminator that night, sweetie, I have never seen anything like it. He just kept coming. Kept mowing people down. The few who managed to survive still have nightmares about him. And now he's on top, and he's been hunting the rest of us ever since..." smiled Pierce forlornly.

"And now he's mostly legit, filing his taxes and all that boring civilian stuff. He's still terrorising the city, but in a different way. We've been trying to find a weakness of his for years but nothing ever came up. Until now that is..." he explained, grinning at you devilishly.

You shrink slightly in your chair. "Weakness...?" you ask in a small voice.

"That's where you come in, sweetheart. You're our bait. You're going to help lure Barnes out here and we are finally going to take care of him, once and for all - and then we can get back on top where we belong".

You begin to panic, eyes widening as you shake your head. You feel sick thinking about Bucky coming out here, as desperate as you also are for him to save you. There are just so many of them. He and his men would be wiped out.

"You don't understand...." you whimper. "It's like I said. We aren't an item. This evening I called him a sociopath and threatened to rat him out to the feds. He...he isn't coming to help me if I ask".

The group laugh, amused by your story. Pierce grins from ear to ear as he leans towards you, pulling up another chair and sitting opposite you.

"If that's true and he doesn't come - no big deal, we'll just shoot you any way sweetheart. No skin off our noses. Annoying to waste a night, but we'll just regroup and come up with something else. Get him some other time. Besides, the boys here will enjoy taking their time with you".

The room echoes with the gang's skin-crawling laughter and you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as fear grips you and sits on your chest like a boulder.

"And...and if he does come?" you manage to croak out. "What happens to me after...well...after you've dealt with him?"

Pierce grins and the other men titter behind him.

"Well, we haven't decided yet, honey. But if you're good, maybe we'll keep you around. We could use a feminine presence around the place. And we can help you get over your boyfriend".

You don't want to think about what that might entail. It seems whatever happens tonight, this doesn't end well for you. 

You're not naïve. You know Bucky isn't going to risk his life, or the lives of his friends and men, to come save the person who screamed at him just a couple of hours before. A woman he'd fucked once when you'd drunkenly stumbled around his nightclub. There'd be no sentimentality solely because she used to package up his doughnuts.

You were on your own.

You had to save yourself.

Pierce smiles as he holds up your phone, wriggling it in his hand.

"Let's drop lover boy a line, shall we?" he tells you ominously.