#mafia!Bucky Barnes x reader

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [18] - Boundaries

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: Family dinner can get tense.

Word Count: 2500

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, 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

“Charm, how long are you going to keep this silent treatment going?” Bucky’s voice reached you and you kept your focus on Alpine, holding the toy as she smacked it with her paw. “I mean you were the one who went and met up with your ex—”

“A friendly lunch!” you said, lifting your gaze from Alpine to see him leaning against the door of his changing room, his arms crossed. Your heart skipped a beat but you pursed your lips, painfully aware of the petulant expression on your face.

“Does he know it was friendly?”

“What do you want me to do Bucky, make him sign a paper to acknowledge it?” you asked back and he rolled his eyes.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said. “Why did you two break up?”

You frowned. “What?”

“I mean I know how good you are at holding grudges, so being friends with an ex doesn’t sound like you, to be honest.”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“Maybe he didn’t give me any reason to hold a grudge,” you said. “No wonder you wouldn’t get it.”

He gawked at you before running a hand over his face.

“I apologized like one thousand times—”

“You sent me a text couple of months later that said ‘you’re not still angry, are you’?” you corrected him. “Do you even know what an apology means?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh you do know,” you said. “I stand corrected.”

“No I mean, I’m sorry for that night.”

“Not accepted,” you deadpanned, scratching at Alpine’s head as she got bored of the feather and plopped down on the soft sheets. Bucky took a deep breath.

“Why did you break up?”

You lifted your head to roll your eyes at him. “Why is it important?”

“It’s important to me,” he said as he walked back into his dressing room, then came back with a pair of cufflinks. “Especially if he broke your heart.”

The idea of Bucky being angry at someone for breaking your heart was so absurd when he was the one who tore your heart out in the first place, but you chose not to comment on it.

“We just weren’t a good fit,” you said. “We were both idiots, to be honest.”

“You had him checked though?” Bucky asked, still busy with putting his cufflinks on and you shot him a glare.

“No Bucky, that was my first rodeo,” you deadpanned. “I just date civilians without making sure they can be trusted.”

 “And now?”

“I had him checked when he moved into the city and first made contact with me,” you said. “He still can be trusted.”

“That’s where we disagree, Charm.”

“Have you trusted anyone in your life, Bucky?” you asked, exasperated. “Except Steve and Sam, that is.”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders.

“I trust you,” he pointed out, making your heart skip a beat and you stared at him for a couple of seconds, then forced out a scoff.

“Yet here you are, questioning me about that lunch and him in general?”

“That has more to do with him than you, you know that,” he replied and you leaned back on the pillows, Alpine jumping to curl up in your lap.

“Either way,” you muttered and stole a look at him as he got into his jacket. “We have dinner at 8 tonight with your mom and dad, don’t forget.”

Bucky threw his head back with a groan. “I still think we should skip that.”

“It’s the second time Winnifred asked,” you reminded him. “We’re going.”

“Fun,” he grumbled as he came closer to scratch at Alpine’s head, then pressed a kiss on top of your hair, making you bite back a smile. “I’ll see you tonight then?”

“Mm hm, try not to kill anyone until then.”

“I’ll try,” he said and walked out of the bedroom, making you heave a sigh as you looked down at Alpine who was purring.

“Dinner with George and Winnifred,” you muttered. “Yeah. Should be fun.”

                                                  *

It wasn’t that having dinner with George and Winnifred was something new for you. You had spent your entire childhood with Becca, not to mention your families had been close since you two were little, so tonight was supposed to be just relaxing.

In theory, that was.

Yet, a mere minute after stepping a foot into the house you realized that would not be the case. Bucky had texted you saying he would be a couple minutes late, and while the food was about to be ready, George was still in his office.

“You know how they get with business,” Winnifred told you as you sat next to Becca on the couch. “I’ll just check the kitchen, excuse me.”

“No problem,” you said as she walked away and you turned to Becca. “Do you know what’s happening?”

“Apparently my father and your father had a very long phone call,” Becca said without lifting her gaze from her phone, texting who you could only assume was Leila. “I have no idea why Bucky is late, but I know for a fact that daddy won’t like that.”

You bit inside your cheek, crossing your arms.

“Great,” you muttered. “I’m guessing Ian keeps dripping poison in my dad’s ear and now George is getting affected as well.”

Becca let out a small laugh.

“It’s not like daddy can do anything,” she murmured. “Bucky took over already.”

“No but he can make things quite difficult.”

“Bucky is used to that,” Becca said and you turned sideways to look at her better.

“So you didn’t bring Leila?” you asked as if trying to tease her and she scoffed.

“Are you kidding?” she asked. “I don’t want them to scare her off.”

“Give her some credit, will you?” you asked. “That car chase didn’t exactly scare her off.”

“If it came down to choosing between a car chase and my parents, I’d say the car chase is much safer,” she told you, making you bite down a grin.

“I get what you mean,” you said as Winnifred walked back into the living room again.

“The food is ready,” she said. “Come on, to the dining room.”

Becca threw her arm over your shoulder as you both followed her to the dining room and you were just about to take your seats when George walked into the room as well.

“Aw my dearest girls,” he said, first kissing Becca’s cheek and then yours. “I missed you two!”

“Hi George.”

“Hi daddy!” Becca gave him a bright smile and Winnifred motioned at the table.

“Sit down, sit down!” she said. “The chef spent the whole day working on this, I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will, I’m starving,” you said as you sat down and George looked around the room.

“And where’s Bucky?”

“He’s going to be a couple of minutes late,” you said. “He texted me just now.”

George stole a look at Winnifred, then shook his head.

“That boy needs to work on his time management skills,” he said, making you pull your brows together and Winnifred waved a hand in the air.

“He’s just busy with work,” she said. “It’s understandable.”

You shot them a smile.

“He’s just giving me the time to talk about him without him present,” you joked, making George chuckle.

“And how is married life, Y/N?”

“It’s wonderful,” you said airily. “I have nothing to complain, really. Which, you know how unlike me that sounds.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Winnifred said. “You and Bucky…You two were explosive around each other until very recently.”

“Thin line between love and hate,” Becca said with a grin before sipping her drink and Winnifred shook her head.

“Bucky never hated you Y/N, you know that.”

You made yourself busy with your food and took your fork to your mouth, nodding.

“I know,” you said after swallowing your bite. “We just had um…history, in a way.”

“And isn’t it wonderful how it worked out?” George said. “As I’ve told Bucky before—”

“Hi everyone,” Bucky’s voice cut him off as he walked into the room and came straight to kiss you on top of your head before taking his seat beside you. “Sorry I’m late, something came up.”

George heaved a sigh of displeasure as if he was trying to contain himself, and Bucky raised his brows at him but Winnifred cleared her throat.

“Oh not a problem sweetheart, we’ve just started.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said as a maid filled his glass and turned to Becca. “You didn’t bring Leila?”

“I asked the same thing,” you said with a small grin and Becca made a face.

“No thank you,” she said. “I’d rather it if you guys didn’t scare her off.”

“Well—”

“Perhaps it’s better that Becca is taking her time,” Winnifred said. “To make sure she can be trusted. She is a civilian after all.”

Bucky tried to hide his smirk as he sipped his drink.

“You haven’t even met the girl yet mom,” he reminded her. “It’s a bit early for you to not approve.”

“It’s not that I don’t approve!” Winnifred said. “It’s just…perhaps it’d be better if Becca were dating someone in business, that’s all I’m saying.”

You tried not to roll your eyes but Becca shot her a look, then turned to Bucky.

“See? Exactly why my girlfriend is not here.”

“Nah, I agree that it was the best idea for this time,” George said. “Considering tonight’s topic at least. Bucky, we need to talk.”

Bucky frowned slightly and you sat up straighter, your stomach doing an unpleasant flip.

“About what?” Bucky asked and George licked his lips.

“What is this I hear about you letting Y/N get involved in the business?” he asked. “Arthur called me, he’s worried out of his mind.”

“Nobody is ‘letting’ me do anything,” you said, trying your hardest to control the defensive tone in your voice. “If my father talked to you, you can just tell me, George.”

Bucky vibranium hand covered yours on the table and you felt a fluttering in your stomach before you turned your attention to George who shook his head.

“Y/N honey, I get that you want to be a part of it,” he said with the same condescending tone your father tended to adapt whenever he talked about you becoming a part of the business and Bucky’s jaw clenched as you narrowed your eyes. “But it’s not the best idea. Bucky agrees, I’m sure.”

“I don’t,” Bucky pointed out without missing a beat. “And watch your tone while you’re talking to my wife.”

The warmth spread over your cheeks. “It’s fine, Buck.”

“No it’s not.”

 Winnifred cleared her throat. “Perhaps we could talk about it later on.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to work,” Becca muttered, leaning back to sip her drink and George put his fork down.

“Bucky,” he said like a warning. “It’s wonderful that you two are happy and in love, don’t get me wrong. But when it comes to my business—”

“I think you mean my business,” Bucky deadpanned and a silence fell upon the table, nervousness filling your system. You rolled your shoulders back, trying to decide whether you should step in or not, but George beat you to it.

“I didn’t put you to the top just so that you can ruin the business, Bucky.”

Your eyes widened as your jaw dropped and Bucky let out a furious breath.

“You didn’t put me anywhere,” he said, his voice almost a growl. “I proved myself over and over.”

“Why don’t we all—”

“And where would you be without me?” George asked him and a furious breath left your lips.

“Alright, this is enough,” you said with a click of your tongue and stood up. “We’re leaving. Come on Buck.”

“Y/N—” Winnifred started as Bucky stood up, still holding your hand.

“See you later,” he told Becca and his mom, and you both walked out of the dining room and made your way through the foyer to step out of the house. He followed you to the car and you told the driver to drive you back to your place, then got in with Bucky.

Bucky didn’t speak a word all the way until you two got home, clearly lost in his own mind and you didn’t want to push him before he was ready. You picked up Alpine who rushed to greet you, then kissed her and put her down again. Bucky ran a hand over his face and flung himself on the couch in silence, biting inside his cheek while you filled two glasses of whiskey. You handed one to him and he took it, trying to offer you a small smile.

“Sorry about that,” he rasped out and you made a face.

“Your dad is an asshole, it has nothing to do with you,” you said. “It’s my therapist’s favorite topic to be honest with you, I could write a book about it.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah well…”

“Speaking of, we’re going to the couple’s therapy,” you told him, making his head snap up.

“What?” he asked. “Why?”

“So that we can make sure this type of situation isn’t going to happen when you marry your second wife and have heirs,” you told him and he heaved a sigh.

“Y/N…” he muttered and rubbed at his eyes again. “Fuck, my head is killing me.”

You pursed your lips, then kicked at his shoe slightly before walking to the window.

“Can you come here?” you asked and he shot you a look, but did as you asked.

“What are we doing?” he asked and you turned to him.

“Tell me what you see.”

He fixed his gaze on the skyline and shrugged his shoulders.

“The city,” he said and you shook your head.

“No,” you said. “What you’re seeing is the part of the city under your rule. Not George’s, not anyone else’s. Yours.”

He huffed out a tense chuckle. “Mm hm, the part he gave to me.”

“The part you took rightfully,” you corrected him. “No one would let you have it if they thought you didn’t have what it takes, Bucky. We’re not letting Ian take over because he’s not the right choice, do you seriously believe you’d be where you are if it was just George handing you things?”

That made him think for a moment as he swallowed thickly, still keeping his gaze on the skyline and you bumped his shoulder with yours.

“You’re frustratingly good at what you do,” you told him. “Which is going to be a problem when I take over my dad’s business and eventually will have to do business with you, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, it’s fine.”

That managed to coax a chuckle out of him and he turned to look at you better, that fond light playing in his bright blue eyes.

“Thanks Charm.”

Your heart skipped a happy beat and you smiled back at him, then cleared your throat.

“No problem,” you said and walked away from him to grab your phone off the kitchen island.

 “I’m ordering pizza by the way,” you called out, your stomach still filled with butterflies for some reason. “We stormed out in style but I’m still hungry. Want some?”

[cosmos-coma]

Glass Desks

A/N: Just a silly little scene I've had in my head for bit now since I work as an occasional house cleaner to try and get by. I got surprised by someone coming in on my last clean and just had to turn it into something.

Pairing: Mafia! Bucky Barnes x House Cleaner! Reader

Words: 1,055

Bucky Masterlist

Buy me a Coffee?

___________________

A sigh escaped Bucky as he ran a hand down his face. He was supposed to have meetings all day today- ones important enough that he’d rearranged everything around them- yet within the first two hours something had already come up and his associates were forced to reschedule.

“Hey, boss? We’re here…” Sam said from the driver’s seat, pulling him out of his thoughts and making him look up at the large empty house before him.

His empty house.

He wouldn’t trade his line of work for the world, truly, but between both the secretive and potentially violent nature of his job, it didn’t exactly leave much room for pleasant company. 

He sighed again as he stepped out, “Thanks Sam…. That should be all for today, but I’ll call if I need you.” He said and patted the roof twice before it pulled away. 

Making his way up the stairs toward the entrance, all seemed normal at first glance- that is until he spotted an unfamiliar car parked around the side. 

It was an old car, parked out of the way in the shade- not quite a beater- but they definitely didn’t make its model anymore. It was non-descript and would blend in with a crowd if needed, but more importantly: it wasn’t one of his. 

He moved toward the door with far quieter steps now, listening intently for the intruders. Multiple voices came from inside as if trying to talk over each other in layered tones. Chairs and doors clunked and creaked as they were moved about, followed by the moving voices- were people searching for something? 

Instinctively his hand found the gun in his jacket. ‘Sam didn’t say anything as he left… Did he really not notice the car? No-Sam was one of his best men… Maybe he already knew they were here..?’ Bucky thought.

Either way, he wasn’t taking any chances; his fingers closed around the gun’s handle as he cracked open the door, the weapon a comfortable and familiar weight in his hand. His steps were silent as he entered, their practiced paces unknown to anyone but him. 

However, instead of finding an enemy gang searching for secrets he found…. You. 

You were hard at work in your own little world as you went about cleaning the second floor. You bobbed and sang along to the music emanating from your back pocket, your voice layering over the original as the rags half tucked in your belt swayed with you. The mobster couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

He had completely forgotten. Usually, on days when he was meant to be out of the house for hours on end, you would be scheduled to come clean. But apparently, no one had informed you about the change of plans.

You had been hired on as his house cleaner a few months ago, helping him keep things together while work kept him endlessly busy. But despite having been on the payroll for a while now, he still hadn’t found the time to officially meet you- that is, until now.

He couldn’t deny that you looked… rather silly if he was being honest, but your unparalleled passion only made it all the more endearing. His head shook with a faint smile as he watched as you moved into his office. Shutting the door behind him with a soft click, he was halfway up the second-floor stairs when he heard you suddenly break away from your song. 

“Ugh…,” you sighed loudly to yourself, still thinking you were the only one in the room, “what kind of an asshole has a glass desk? I mean, really- Do you have stock in Windex? Is that what it is???” You asked snarkily to no one in particular, but this was too good for Bucky to pass up.

“Not yet. Should I?” The mobster found himself biting back his laughter as he leaned against the office doorway behind you. 

“At this rate? You should really-“Your mouth clamped shut faster than it ever had before, your entire body freezing on the spot as his response finally processed. Your eyes were wide as saucers as your thoughts ran on a panicked loop ‘Oh no, oh god, oh shit, oh fuck. you really just had to insult the infamous White Wolf of New York… In his own home… In front of his own men… Are you STUPID??’ you yelled at yourself internally and quickly put on a brave face, turning off your music and turning to the unfamiliar voice behind you.

Your stomach nearly dropped as you realized it was not only “one of his men” it was, THE man. You instantly recognized him from the few photos scattered around the house; the sharp stubbly jaw and blazing blue eyes were unmistakable, not to mention the hint of the metallic arm you caught between his suit sleeve and glove. You couldn’t deny he was handsome- even more so in person than he was in his photos.

“Mr. Barnes…!” Your voice squeaked out, but he just held his same amused smile, looking anything but upset. “I, uh… I thought you had meetings all day today- I didn’t mix up the date, did I..?”

“Not at all…” he said with a quiet laugh. “My meetings got rescheduled part way though, so I thought I’d spend the evening working from home. Little did I know it’d be the perfect place to get financial advice too.” 

Your face burned with embarrassment as you relived the very recent moment yet again, “Right, uh, about the whole ‘asshole’ thing, I-” 

But he simply waved you off, “Don’t. It’s refreshing to get an authentic opinion, and honestly? I don’t even like that desk.” He admitted, his heart stirring in new ways as your whole body relaxed and he could finally see you as you usually were, “and, ah… if you wanted to stay for a while, I sure wouldn’t mind the company- I could use a little advice in the stock market.”

You bit your lip to hold back your grin, you wouldn’t get too ahead of yourself, “Oh, me? I don’t know if I’d really be suitable company while I’m cleaning.” 

A thought seemed to pass over him then as he nodded in agreement, “Hm, you’re right..” he smiled, “Perhaps we should just have dinner then… how’s tonight?”

______

General Bucky Taglist:

@writingmysanity @simpxinnie @goldylions

If I missed or accidentally tagged you lmk! Wanna be added General Bucky taglist? Please ask/DM me!

[holylulusworld]

Fool me twice

Summary: You meet the man of your dreams.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, betrayal?, lies, implied smut, plot twist (kinda), secrets, the reader doesn't know Bucky is with the mafia

A/N: Inspired by a post I saw on social media about a spicy legend.

Maybe there will be more. I don't know yet.

Five months earlier, …

Who would have thought that you’d meet the man of your dreams at McDonald’s after a drunken escapade with your best friend.

You yelled at one of the employees, demanding food. “I need a spicy legend!” 

“I’m right here, doll!” Someone yelled back, making you squeal. “Try me!”

“I want the same,” your friend slurred and jumped at the employee, peppering kisses all over the poor guy’s face. “Are you spicy too?” She purred and shamelessly wrapped her arms around his neck.

The poor employee tried to handle your friend while the guy strolled toward you. He flashed you an irresistible smile and captured your heart with his soft blue eyes.

“How about I invite you for coffee before you get a taste of my spiciness?” He offered and held out his hand. “You look like you need it.”

“I can’t leave my friend here,” you replied and pointed at your friend. “Oh, shit. Wait…” You gasped as your friend started to strip her shirt off. “Fuck, babe! You can’t do this here!”

Suddenly, sober you stopped your friend from stripping and apologized to the employee. 

“I wanna ride him! He looks ready to get eaten,” she whined and tried to get her hands on the guy, but you dragged her away. “Please.”

“No, [BFFs name], we gotta get you out of here!”

“Can I lend you a hand,” the stranger offered. His smile was charming, and you felt your cheeks heat up. But he was still a stranger. “I won’t bite, promised.”

“She likes it when a guy bites her!” Your best friend exclaimed loudly. “Bite her neck and she’ll come like a … uh… waterfall!” 

“That is enough [BFFs name]. We don’t know him.” You guided your friend out, ignoring that the cocky guy followed you outside.

“Hey, don’t just run off. Give me your number,” he softly said. “I know you just met me, but I’d like to invite you for coffee.”

You sighed deeply. He was a very handsome guy and seemed to be nice. The problem was you fell for nice guys in the past. In the end, they never were nice guys.

“No.”

“Give him your number, babe,” your friend slurred. “Here!” She threw her purse at him. “My code is 6666!” Your friend grinned. “Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. You can call her doll, though. Save her number and call her tomorrow.”

“I like your friend,” he chuckled as you slapped the back of your friend’s head. “Don’t hurt her. She means well.”

“I want her to get laid!” Your friend grinned at the stranger. “I hope you can dick a girl down like there is no tomorrow.”

“Oh, sweets. I will destroy her,” he replied, smirking darkly. “In a good way, of course…”

Five months later you and the stranger you met are going steady.

He’s charming, irresistible, and yes, he loves to destroy you. Only in the best way possible - of course.

“Bucky, why not,” you whine and tug at his wrist. “I promised my mom we would meet up with her for lunch. You can’t cancel now.”

“Babe, I got an important meeting. I’m sorry, but I can’t cancel the appointment. I wanted to go with you, I swear.”

You sniff, and let Bucky wrap you in his arms. “Next time.”

“Next time.”

He kisses your hair and sighs deeply. It’s one of these days. On these days he’s still a caring boyfriend, but a little more distant. 

“I love you,” you whisper, and he kisses your temple. But he doesn’t say it back. Not today. Maybe tomorrow he’ll return it.

“Doll, you gotta see this,” Bucky shows you a picture he took of you while you were sleeping. He smirks at you, making your heart flutter. “You looked so pretty, I had to take a picture.”

“I’m drooling.” You punch his arm. “It’s creepy taking pictures of me while sleeping.” 

“I love you and want to memorize every moment with you.”

Today is a better day. He smiles more and tells you he loves you. “I love you too. Maybe next time you can come with me and finally meet my mom. She’s nice, you know. I want her to see how happy you make me too.”

“Wait…you wanted me to meet your mom?” He furrows his brows. “Shit, did I forget a date? I’m sorry.”

“What? Bucky, did you forget that you told me last week you wouldn’t make it? You said something about an important meeting.”

“Oh, yeah!” He scratches the back of his head. “The meeting. Sorry, this week was hell. I forgot about it. Next time, I’ll be there. Promised, doll.”

“Okay,” you snuggle into his chest. “I hope you don’t take more pictures.”

“I can’t promise anything,” he chirps and pats your back. “I’m really sorry that I forgot about the date with your mom.”

Bucky searches for his phone, and curses under his breath. “Babe, did you see my phone.”

“On the nightstand. I recharged it for you, baby,” you poke your head out from inside the bathroom. “Why don’t you join me in here?” You crook your finger and try to lure him in.

“Sorry, I’m late,” he dips his head to look at you. “I wish I had more time.” Bucky bites his lower lip. “If only I could…”

“You can always take a day off, baby,” you purr, and drop the towel covering your modesty. “If you want me to, I’ll call your boss and tell him you need more time for your girlfriend.”

He runs his hands over his thighs, considering you. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he drops the keys in his hands and cups your face. Bucky kisses you fiercely. He moans into your mouth. “I can’t resist you…”

“Bucky? Baby? Oh my god,” you gasp watching your boyfriend limp inside the living room. He’s got a black eye, and his nose is bleeding. Blood soaked his white shirt, and his knuckles are split and bloody.

“It’s nothing,” he shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have seen me like this. I got into a fight and …” Bucky runs one hand down his face. “You should see the other guy.”

“How did you get into a fight at the office?” You carefully touch his face. “Bucky, tell me what happened. I don’t think you got into a fight over a stapler or paperwork. This looks like you tried to kill someone.”

You grab his hand and lift it. “I’m so sorry…” He sniffs. “I thought…back then it was…shit…you’ll hate me.” Bucky cups your face with both hands, wincing at the sting of his wounds.

“I don’t understand, Bucky. What is going on?” Your heart thunders in your chest. Something is off with Bucky tonight, and you fear it’s worse than split knuckles and a black eye. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

“He should’ve stayed with you. And protect you while I’m away,” he drops his gaze and sniffs again. “I didn’t want him to fall in love with you too.”

“BUCKY, I don’t understand a single thing. Did you lose your mind?” You look at Bucky with teary eyes. “This morning you were so happy, and we made love. Now you look like you got thrown under the bus. Please tell me what happened.”

“He wanted me to keep an eye on you for him.” You scream as Bucky’s spit image steps inside the room. He’s wearing the same suit he wore this morning. 

“No…no…” you chant and step away from Bucky. “This can’t be. No…I…no…” you shake your head. 

“He shouldn’t have fallen for you, or touched you,” Bucky reaches out for you but, you slap his hand away. “It was for your protection. Every time I couldn’t be here, with you, Nick kept you safe.”

“Kept me safe?” You angrily wipe a stray tear away. “Did keeping me safe include fucking me?”

“It was only this once,” Nick hastily says. “I found an excuse to not touch you…” He licks his lips. “This morning you broke my resolve, and we ended up…” Nick shakes his head. “I’m sorry…so sorry, babe. I never wanted you to find out this way.”

“I hate both of you,” you choke out. “And I never want to see any of you again…”

Double the trouble

Tags in reblog.

[biteofcherry]

"Seriously?" Bucky glares at you.

His sunglasses are still on, but you recognize by the tone of his voice and how a muscle in his jaw twitches that he definitely is sending you one of his displeased glares.

"Oops?" You make an innocent face and shrug. "Well, you always said I'm a messy girl. Guess, you're right."

You've been stretching and wiggling on the towel, which you put down on the sunny roof terrace, trying to get Bucky's attention.

Bucky, who's been using the terrace as his temporary office, since his actual one was being remodeled. You knew that. He informed you that he will be there to work, just like he would do in an actual office. Which implied that he wasn't to be disturbed.

So you promised to be very quiet as you laid down to sunbathe. And quiet you were.

You didn't make a single sound as you got rid of your bikini top. Nor when you took off your bikini bottoms.

There was no noise as you ate quarters of orange, biting into the pulp and getting shiny juice all over your mouth.

Really, it was Bucky who made the first noise, when you squeezed a piece of fruit and the juice spurted all over your belly.

"Messy girl," Bucky slowly slides his sunglasses to the tip of his nose, "you better crawl here, to the shade. You need to cool off, before your overheated head comes up with an idea that gets you into even bigger trouble."

"Bigger trouble?" You feign surprise; your pulse rising in excitement.

"Bigger by each second that you're not on your hands and knees, making your way between my legs."

"But-"

"Fucking. Now."

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

it’s practically like we’re down there with them

kinktober, day eight

a/n: i'm sorry your honour, but gangster!bucky just does something to me

warnings: mob boss!bucky barnes x reader, smut, slight dubcon, established relationship, exhibitionism, possessiveness, thigh riding, penetrative sex, dirty talk

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

Your legs were trembling at this point. Pressed up against the ornate wallpaper with determined kisses dancing across your jugular, a teasing thigh was lodged between yours, nudging up against your centre through your dazzling gown in a way that made you float away on a cloud. 

“Bucky,” you softly tapped his suit-clad shoulders, “you’re gonna miss the party, your party, if we stay up here much longer.”

Pulling back ever so slightly to squint back at you with nothing short of mischief in his gaze, he countered, “who says I’m missing it?” your brows lightly knitted together as he then retracted his sturdy knee, snatching you with him as he took a few paces to towards the tall window directly to your left, “see,” he stood behind you, selfishly grinding the tent in his dress pants against your bottom as he gave you a good view of the festivities still buzzing in the courtyard below, “it’s practically like we’re down there with them.” 

Just as you were about to open your mouth to argue, count that it was not at all the same, you felt the gangster suddenly hike up your dress. 

“What are you-,” you whipped your head around to question, though your attempt didn’t get very far as you watched him swiftly yank down his zipper and with a hasty lick of extra lubrication to his fingertips, began to sink his length into your weeping cunt, “Bucky!” all of his previous teasing haven made the abrupt motion effortless as he had practically made you stain the silk billowing around you with all of your want. 

“Yes?” he mockingly whispered in your ear, hugging you close as he rocked deeper, “what’s wrong, doll?”

Glancing out at how clear the guests were from up here, being able to make out even the smallest of details, you whimpered, “people can see…”

“I know…” you heard him groan darkly, snapping into you in a way that made you thankful that he was holding you upright, “this way they know for sure who you belong to.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[deliciousangelfestival]

Echoes Of Revenge || Part 1

Character: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Y/N, an analyst at Goldenlix Capital, discovers her promotion hopes crushed by favoritism. Seeking solace in a nightclub, she encounters her past tormentor, Bucky.

Warning: Betrayal, heartbreak, manipulation.

Part 2 : Shattered Echoes

Part 3: All The Lies

Part 4: Sweetest Dreams

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Y/N, an ambitious analyst at Goldenlix Capital, had consistently delivered profitable predictions for the hedge fund. 

Despite her hard work, the promotion she longed for slipped away when the CEO's nephew, Simon, secured the portfolio manager position.

Frustrated, Y/N sought solace at a nightclub with her colleagues. As Y/N immersed herself in the pulsating beats and vibrant atmosphere of the nightclub, she was unaware of the watchful eyes observing her every move. 

The rhythm of the music and the clinking of glasses provided a temporary escape from the frustrations at work.

Suddenly, a lavish display of expensive drinks arrived at her table, catching Y/N off guard. The waitress informed her that they were compliments of the house, leaving Y/N momentarily puzzled by the unexpected gesture.

Just as she wondered who might be behind this gesture, Bucky entered.

Bucky made his entrance with confidence, navigating through the crowd with a swagger that suggested a newfound maturity. 

Dressed in an impeccably tailored, expensive suit, he exuded a sense of self-assuredness. His arrival was accompanied by the subtle clink of cufflinks and the rich scent of a high-end cologne.

As he approached Y/N's table, Bucky flashed a charming smile, his eyes hinting at a mixture of mischief and sophistication. 

However, Y/N, ever focused and unswayed by external displays, remained unimpressed by his polished appearance. She eyed him skeptically, silently signaling that material possessions wouldn't alter her priorities or impressions.

With a smirk, he approached Y/N, confidently revealing, "I thought you could use a taste of the finer things tonight, Y/N. It's on me.”

There, she unexpectedly encountered Bucky, a college classmate with a history of teasing her. Now claiming to be the club's owner, Bucky attempted to flirt with her.

Unimpressed, Y/N looked down on his attempt to impress her. "Owning a nightclub doesn't change who you are, Bucky. I'm focused on my career," she retorted, dismissing his advances.

Undeterred, Bucky tried a different approach, acknowledging his past mistakes. "People change, Y/N. Maybe you should loosen up and enjoy the night," he suggested.

Maintaining her composure, Y/N replied, "I'll pass on the life lessons, Bucky. I have bigger goals than spending my time with someone who hasn't really grown up.”

Y/N's colleagues discreetly made their exit, leaving her alone with Bucky. He nodded appreciatively, acknowledging their departure, and sat beside her, pouring a drink into her glass.

"So, what's the problem? I never thought the nerd of my class would spend money on the expensive table," Bucky remarked teasingly.

Y/N scoffed, "This is expensive? I didn't realize."

Surprised by her nonchalant response, Bucky commented, "Where is the timid Y/N I know? She's gone.”

Y/N gulped her drink, contemplating his observation. "Money. Everything could change because of money," she admitted. 

Her past, rooted in a modest upbringing, had shaped her determination to succeed. Working hard to escape financial constraints, her dream was to become a fund manager.

She looked at Bucky with a hint of disdain. She doesn't appreciate people like him who lead careless lives just because they come from wealthy families.

Bucky noticed the scattered name cards of Y/N's colleagues on the table and picked one up. Reading it, he remarked, "Goldenlix Capital? You work there? That's impressive."

Y/N responded with a nonchalant "hmm."

Bucky, perceptive, ventured, "Let me guess, you didn't get the promotion?"

Surprised, Y/N asked, "How...?"

Bucky leaned back, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "I've seen many types of people come and go in this place," he said, revealing a hint of insight into the workings of the professional world they both navigated.

Bucky's casual revelation about his observations at Goldenlix Capital intrigued Y/N, prompting her to give him a scrutinizing look. As she contemplated his words, Bucky continued, "It's a tough world out there, especially when you're navigating corporate ladders."

Y/N, still guarded, responded, "You seem to have it all figured out."

Bucky chuckled, "Well, not everything, but I've learned a thing or two. Sometimes it's not just about hard work; it's about playing the game.”

Bucky leaned in, a glint of sincerity in his eyes, as he proposed, "Let me be your client."

Y/N, skeptical, questioned, "Why?"

Bucky shrugged a hint of nostalgia in his tone, "I don't know. Perhaps because of a nostalgic feeling. I want to help an old friend."

Y/N, maintaining her guard, retorted, "We were never friends. You always used me."

With a sly smile, Bucky countered, "Then, I'll use this as my apology letter."

The air between them carried tension, a mix of unresolved history and an unexpected proposal.

As Bucky got closer, the alluring scent of his elegant perfume enveloped Y/N. Their proximity seemed to amplify the tension, a subtle dance of conflicting emotions.

"I'm serious. Give me your name card," Bucky whispered, a soft murmur against the rhythmic beats of the music.

Y/N, somewhat reluctantly, handed over her name card. Bucky took it with a charming smile, his gaze lingering on hers. "Tomorrow your boss will go nuts," he predicted, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

With a final, lingering look, Bucky gracefully rose from his seat. "See you next time," he said, leaving Y/N in a state of contemplation, the lingering scent of his perfume and the enigmatic encounter resonating in the dimly lit ambiance of the nightclub.

Excitement mixed with intrigue surged through Y/N as she stepped into the bustling office the next day. Her boss, Ivan,  beckoned her into his office with an animated expression, "Y/N, we've just landed a significant new client. The funds have been wired, and you're in charge."

Perusing the financial statement, Y/N's eyes widened at the substantial amount. "This is impressive, sir. I'll ensure it's handled with utmost precision," she assured.

Ivan leaned back in his chair, a shrewd smile on his lips. "Not just impressive, Y/N. Make it triple. We need to show our new client the prowess of Goldenlix Capital.”

Y/N nodded, her mind already racing with investment strategies. "I'll diversify the portfolio, perhaps allocate more in growth stocks, considering the current market trends. And we can leverage options to enhance returns without taking excessive risk," she suggested.

Ivan impressed with her immediate analysis, nodded in agreement. "Exactly, Y/N. Show them why you're the rising star here."

As she left his office, Y/N couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected turn of events—Bucky's proposition at the nightclub, the mysterious new client, and now the challenge to triple the investment. 

Now witnessing his portfolio's profits tripling under Y/N's adept guidance, Bucky couldn't help but be impressed. As rumors circulated about Y/N potentially becoming the next portfolio manager, her boss and colleagues acknowledged her exceptional skills.

One day, Bucky approached Y/N with a mixture of admiration and amusement. "I knew I could count on you, Y/N. Looks like you're not just the 'nerd' from our college days anymore."

Y/N, maintaining her professionalism, Y/N replied with a slight smirk, "Money talks, Bucky. It's all about making the right moves in the market."

Bucky, however, seemed persistent in keeping the conversation personal. "Or maybe it's about making the right moves in life," he teased, a suggestive glint in his eyes.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, unyielding. "Let's keep it professional, Bucky. This is business.”

As Y/N attempted to make a swift exit, Bucky intercepted her, his hand gently restraining her. Irritated, she shot him a sharp look, demanding, "What?!"

Bucky, undeterred, asserted, "I'll double my money."

Y/N, skeptical, retorted, "What for? You already have enough. You need to learn about limits."

With a wry smile, Bucky countered, "If I have to pay a high price just to have a date with you, then I will pay everything."

Rolling her eyes, Y/N dismissed his proposition, "Yeah, right."

Bucky leaned in, a teasing glint in his eyes. "My silly Y/N. Don't you know why I always played with you back then?”

Y/N, unamused, shot back, "You bullied me to get my attention. Are you in kindergarten?”

Y/N, after a moment of contemplation, finally relented, "Fine. One date. But no, I don't want your money. The stock market is not good this time. What if you get mad because you lose money?"

Bucky chuckled, his tone playful, "There's no way I'm going to be mad at you, silly.”

As Y/N and Bucky shared that one date, their connection deepened, weaving a thread of unexpected intimacy into their lives. 

The complexities of their relationship unfolded like a carefully scripted narrative, intertwining the professional and personal in a way that left Y/N simultaneously exhilarated and hesitant.

Her life, seemingly perfect after successfully handling Bucky's portfolio, took an unforeseen turn when her Ivan dropped a bombshell – he wanted to hand over Bucky, her biggest client, to his nephew, Simon. 

The news sent shockwaves through Y/N, her world suddenly tilted on its axis.

Y/N, with a mix of frustration and anxiety, found herself standing at Bucky's doorstep, the weight of her predicament evident in her eyes. Sensing her distress, Bucky welcomed her inside, "What happened, Y/N? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Taking a deep breath, Y/N explained the situation, "My boss wants to hand over your portfolio to his nephew. It's a complete mess, and I don't know what to do."

Bucky, leaning against the wall, studied her with a thoughtful gaze. "You came to me for help. Looks like our roles are reversing."

Y/N, a hint of vulnerability in her voice, admitted, "I never thought I'd need help, especially from someone like you.”

Bucky, his expression softening, replied, "We all need help sometimes. It doesn't make you weak.”

As Y/N faced the uncertain aftermath of seeking Bucky's help, she soon discovered that her most significant competitor, Simon, had mysteriously vanished from the office scene. 

The absence of the rival candidate created a void that only she could fill, paving the way for Y/N to enter the role of project manager uncontested.

The news rippled through the office, and Y/N found herself at the center of surprise and admiration. 

Colleagues congratulated her on the unexpected turn of events, and her boss, puzzled by his nephew's disappearance, acknowledged her as the natural choice for the project manager position.

Gratitude and curiosity again led Y/N to Bucky's door, a soft knock signaling her presence. As Bucky opened the door, a knowing smile played on his lips, "Come to thank me, Y/N?"

Y/N responded with a hint of appreciation in her eyes, "I can't deny that your mysterious touch might have played a role in my unexpected promotion. So, thank you."

Bucky, stepping closer, his gaze lingering, remarked, "I'm always here to help, especially when it comes to you.”

Three months had passed, and Bucky, in the routine of his daily activities, eagerly anticipated seeing his girlfriend. The past week had kept Y/N busy as she jetted off to Dubai to meet with a new client.

However, on this particular day, as Bucky went about his usual tasks, his assistant interrupted, a hint of apprehension in their voice, "Sir, the police are here."

Bucky, initially thinking he had misheard, questioned, "Huh?"

The police, standing with an air of authority, informed Bucky that he was accused of money laundering. Unfazed, Bucky dismissed the accusation with a roll of his eyes, stating, "Money laundering? I'm a legit businessman.”

The police countered, accusing him of using Goldenlix Capital for money laundering. Bucky scoffed, insisting the company was legitimate. 

The turning point came when his assistant displayed a live news report on their phone, revealing that Goldenlix Capital was now branded as a scam company.

Bucky, disbelief written on his face, uttered, "What?!" Realizing the severity of the situation, he urgently reached for his phone, attempting to call Y/N, only to face the frustration of her unanswered calls. 

As the news of Goldenlix Capital being labeled a scam investment company flooded every media outlet, Bucky was engulfed in chaos. Desperate for information about Y/N's whereabouts, he pressed the police, hoping for reassurance.

Bucky questioned, anxiety seeping into his voice, "Have you seen any news about Y/N?"

The police, maintaining an air of detachment, replied, “She went missing."

Bucky's eyes widened in disbelief, and he uttered a baffled "Huh?!" The absence of Y/N from the news coverage added another layer of mystery to an already bewildering situation. 

As he grappled with the unfolding events, uncertainty and concern for Y/N's safety overshadow the chaos surrounding Goldenlix Capital.

The unfolding chaos threatened his professional empire and the stability of the connection he had built with Y/N in the past few months.

Fury burned within Bucky as the realization sunk in – he hadn't merely lost money; he had been played. The anger surged through him, a relentless fire fueled by the betrayal he felt. Determination set in, transforming his frustration into a resolute mission.

His mind raced with questions about Y/N's motives, but the lack of information only intensified his desire to uncover the truth. 

Bucky, driven by a newfound resolve, vowed to track down Y/N and unravel the mystery behind her involvement, or lack thereof, in the scandal that had befallen Goldenlix Capital.

As Y/N sat on the beach, watching the chaos unfold on her tablet, a sense of satisfaction washed over her. Finally, her carefully orchestrated plan to destroy Goldenlix Capital was playing out as intended.

The roots of her vendetta can be traced back 15 years when her family, once content in their middle-class life, had fallen victim to a deceitful investment scheme. 

Flashback Start

Introduced by a relative, Y/N's father had invested a small amount in Maxim Capital, enticed by the promise of a 7% monthly profit. The regular returns had built a false sense of trust.

However, driven by greed, Y/N's father had invested half of their savings into Maxim Capital. The deceptive scheme vanished six months later, leaving the company in ruins and wiping out a significant portion of Y/N's family's hard-earned money.

As Y/N's family crumbled into financial ruin after the Maxim Capital scam, her relative, who had introduced them to the fraudulent investment, callously shrugged off any responsibility. The repercussions were severe, forcing Y/N's father to take desperate measures.

Unable to secure a traditional loan due to his plummeted credit score, Y/N's father sought assistance from a loan shark. The borrowed sum might have been small, intended for crucial medicine for Y/N's ailing mother, but its interest was exorbitant.

The loan shark in question, Nicholas Barnes, was none other than Bucky's father.

Fueled by a burning anger and a thirst for revenge, Y/N channeled her emotions into her studies, delving deep into economics to comprehend the intricacies of investments. 

Her pursuit of knowledge became a double-edged sword, with academic excellence as a guise for a more sinister motive.

Even as she immersed herself in her studies, Y/N never lost sight of her plan for retribution. Every lesson about investments and financial strategies became a tool in her arsenal to orchestrate the downfall of those who had once exploited her family's vulnerabilities.

As Y/N navigated the complexities of her revenge plan, an unexpected twist unfolded in the form of Bucky. Fortune seemed to favor her, and she couldn't quite comprehend why the "Goddess of luck" appeared on her side. Bucky's growing interest in her became a peculiar element in her carefully crafted narrative.

While Y/N couldn't fathom the reasons behind Bucky's fascination, she saw it as a stroke of luck. 

Y/N, cleverly using her position at Goldenlix, exploited the opportunity to gather information about the victims of the investment scams discreetly. 

The guise of her role gave her access to crucial details, names, and backgrounds that would later become instrumental in executing her revenge.

In the case of Bucky, her intentions were more straightforward – to pilfer his wealth. The intricate dance of trust and vulnerability between them served as a cover for her ulterior motives. 

Y/N, driven by a desire for retribution, saw Bucky's financial downfall as a key component of her revenge plan.

Their shared history of friendship only fueled Y/N's determination to make Bucky understand the anguish of misplaced trust. 

Just as Nicholas had played with her father's trust, she intended to manipulate Bucky's emotions, leading him down a path of betrayal that mirrored her family's pain years ago.

Flashback End

As Y/N settled into her seat, her fingers danced across the keyboard with purpose. Each keystroke represented a meticulous calculation, determining the amount of money – with the accrued interest over 15 years – that Goldenlix Capital had pilfered from their unsuspecting victims.

With a determined click of the 'Send' button, Y/N initiated a digital cascade that would return the ill-gotten gains to those who had fallen prey to the investment scams.

Despite the years that had elapsed since their losses, she hoped this restitution would bring peace to the victims.

As Y/N gazed up at the sky, a quiet moment of reflection enveloped her. The weight of her actions, the meticulous plan for revenge, and the redemption she had sought for her family hung in the air. 

She hoped, somewhere beyond the vast expanse above, that her parents would be proud of her unconventional method of reclaiming their lost money.

One year later, in the quiet embrace of a small town, a remarkable female teacher had become a beacon of inspiration at the local elementary school. 

Known for her exceptional skills in teaching mathematics, she cultivated a passion for numbers among her students. She led them to triumph at the Olympic level, earning gold medals for their achievements.

The echoes of her dedication resonated through the halls of the school, leaving an indelible mark on the young minds she nurtured. 

The once-sleepy town now boasted a newfound pride in its educational achievements, thanks to the remarkable teacher whose commitment and expertise had transformed the academic landscape.

The routine exchange of greetings became a familiar melody in the small town's elementary school. Every morning, as students hurried through the hallways, they would greet their beloved teacher with a cheerful, "Morning, Miss Y/N."

Y/N, now a beacon of knowledge and guidance for these young minds, responded with a warm smile, echoing, "Morning, don't run in the hallway."

"Okay."

The simple yet affectionate interactions spoke volumes about the transformation Y/N had undergone – from a seeker of revenge to a nurturing educator shaping the future

As Y/N reflected on the passing year, a bittersweet smile played on her lips. Justice had been served as the boss of Goldenlix, and Ivan faced the consequences, forced to part with his ill-gotten wealth to cover legal expenses.

However, when it came to Bucky, a twinge of regret and sadness lingered in her heart. The connection they had forged amidst the intricate dance of revenge carried a weight of impossibility. The revelation that he was the son of the loan shark, Nicholas Barnes, cast a shadow over what could have been.

Y/N, despite the passage of time, Y/N found herself haunted by a lingering fear that Bucky might seek revenge. The uncertainty gnawed at her, and she wished she could overcome the apprehension that one day, the consequences of her calculated actions might come knocking at her door.

As Y/N returned to her small home, an unsettling feeling crept over her. The once familiar space now emanated an unusual coldness. A sense of foreboding settled in, causing her to hesitate before stepping further into the house.

When she decided to leave, her hand reaching for the doorknob, she discovered a chilling truth – the door was locked outside. Panic set in as the realization dawned that she was trapped within her own home.

Fear gripped Y/N's heart as she grappled with the possibility that her past actions might be catching up to her. 

A chill ran down her spine as Y/N stood trapped in her own house when the front door creaked open. The atmosphere shifted as an unwelcome presence entered, and the smile that once held warmth now appeared cold and calculated.

Bucky, who had stepped into her sanctuary, greeted her with an unsettling calmness, "Hello, sweetie. You have some explaining to do.”

Author Note:

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

Join the taglist? 🩷💙🩷

@bagoffeelings

@darkofimagination

@starsofcloud

@cherrybubblebullet

@winterslove1917

@thezombieprostitute

@namoreno

@sagebarness

@tenaciousathleteoperatorgarden

@unaxv

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@hopeful-daydreaming

@freshlemontea

@eat-limes-bitches

@kandis-mom

@scott-loki-barnes

@winters1917

@differenttyphoonwerewolf

@arunabraganza

@ordelixx

Hey everyone! 🌟 Your input means the world to me.

If you've got any cool ideas or prompts, whether for this fluff series or any other series, feel free to share them with me!

Just drop them in my ASK/SEND REQUEST box.

Can't wait to hear your awesome suggestions! 🚀💬

[wntrs0ldier]

An Offer · part 11

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 4k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.), smut?

series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

“Hey, Y/N.” A soft whisper brushed your ear and wrapped itself around your waking mind. “Hey, hey…” A gentle touch slid across your cheek, pulling out of sleep the remnants of consciousness fighting for further rest. Your lungs involuntarily filled with a bigger load of air; you opened your eyes, and they immediately found Bucky sitting beside you. He gave you a tender smile, his thumb relentlessly stroking your cheek.

“What?” you asked without much thought. Bucky seemed calm, so you saw no reason to panic either. His touch, this time instead of helping you stay awake, was pushing you towards falling asleep again. Your eyelids drooped, and you had little control over it – it was entirely his fault.

“Hey, stay with me,” Bucky ordered right away, his voice still soft, as if, contrary to the words spoken, he didn't want to disturb you at all. 

“But it's so warm and comfortable here…” 

His hand, which until then had been resting on your face, slipped under the covers. It touched your thigh, and though your eyes remained closed, the rest of your body was awakened by an explosion; a memory of the previous night. Bucky's hand moved higher and turned unexpectedly, his fingers unceremoniously pinching your cheek. You moaned, more in surprise than pain, then looked at Bucky with innocent reproach – he'd used something against you that you definitely liked, and you knew he wouldn't do anything about it. He had aroused not only your mind, but especially your body, and would leave you aching and craving again. But there was also something on his face that might indicate a different turn of events; the same rawness that you had observed the first time he appeared in your house that day had returned. It was as if your innocence and exposure were driving him into some kind of wild, nevertheless controlled madness.

Bucky pressed his lips together and took a deep breath. He swallowed hard at the lust you had also raised in him, and took his hands away. He got up from the bed and it was only then that you noticed he had already his clothes on. “Get dressed,” he grunted. “We have to get back to New York.”

You sat up on the mattress and glanced at the window – it was still dark outside. You grabbed your phone; it was almost three in the morning. You returned your gaze to Bucky, giving him a questioning, confused look, but he paid no more attention to you, too busy gathering up his stuff. “...Is something wrong?” 

“Timothy called,” he replied, and when he did, you already knew you had lost him. You'd lost smiley, relaxed Bucky; when you got to Vegas, he'd come back to life amongst the warmth, sunshine and all the softness you had for each other. And then all it took was one, probably cold and spiteful phone call from his uncle to destroy it; to kill that side of him. 

“Alright…” You nodded slowly. “And he wanted you to come back?”

“He said he needs me. Got a job for me.” He threw his sweats and t-shirt on the bed. “Put this on. Please,” he urged, thereby letting you know that he didn't have time for the rest of your questions. And you weren't quite sure what you should actually feel, but you weren't hurt. You were probably prepared for this; for life alongside a gangster. Bucky was now your husband, and although you had married on your own terms, your society had established a pattern that was imprinted in the two of you as well - however good you intended to be to each other; however much Bucky wanted to make you his equal, he was your husband – a specific, meaningful figure in your world – so you had to follow him, do everything he demanded and expected of you. And you weren't going to fight back, because you trusted him. Maybe not entirely – you still needed time – but you kept believing in his whole “Maybe my heart is in the right place. Maybe I want to do some good.”

It wasn't hard to guess that time played a key role, but you were only confirmed in this belief by the fact that you were returning to New York by plane, sent by Timothy. You still didn't know what he wanted from Bucky, but the matter seemed serious if he was taking such measures. And probably for the first time you realized what your mother really meant when she repeated to you like a mantra: Never marry a gangster. 

Because you were worried. You were worried about your husband, and you weren't sure how to deal with that feeling. It was so... unexpected. Or rather, the fact that it involved Bucky; tied to you in this untrue, loveless marriage. It turned out that you had a softer heart than you thought.

When you landed, a car was waiting for you. The driver, on Bucky's instructions, took you to an address you didn't know – one of New York's apartment complexes. You felt more and more lost, because you had the impression that instead of receiving information that would help your mind to function undisturbed by stress, you knew far too little. You could have asked – you could have asked anything, but you didn't want to throw Bucky off balance. You could see he was irritated enough and was doing his best not to unload on you. You weren't going to make it difficult for him.

Still, there were questions you couldn't keep quiet about. “Where exactly are we..?” You furrowed, watching Bucky turn the keys in the lock. 

He opened the door and let you through. “At my place,” he answered, closing the wooden lid behind him. He put your luggage on the floor, because although this time you managed to declare to him that you could handle your bag, he turned a deaf ear to it.

“Right…” You looked around hesitantly. For some reason, you didn't think he had his own place; mostly you'd find him at his family house, moreover, he had never mentioned having his own place before. Admittedly, he didn't mention owning a casino either. He didn't actually talk about anything until it came to the surface by itself. 

“Look…” Bucky murmured, checking something on his phone. Shortly afterwards, he turned it off and lifted his gaze to you. “I gotta see my uncle. Can you wait here for me?”

“Sure.” You smiled slightly. Apart from the fact that you didn't really have anywhere else to go, you wanted to stay here; to get to know better the space that belonged to Bucky. 

And he managed the same pained rise of the corners of his mouth. He only nodded, and after a moment he left the apartment. You didn't resent him for this at all – you knew there were priorities in your world, besides, in reality you and Bucky didn't function as a typical married couple, but more like co-workers. So, in theory, you didn't need to know; it should have been enough for you that your deal has been working; that it has been protecting you and your father's business. However, you couldn't help but feel that in all this you were also looking out for Bucky's wellbeing. Or maybe you cared mostly about that. And some part of you wanted to know everything; including how he felt.

Despite your suspicion that caffeine would fuel your anxiety, you decided to make yourself a coffee. You hadn't slept a wink on the plane, and now you didn't feel like sleeping either; the tension accompanying you, while draining you additionally, didn't allow you to rest. 

When the boiling coffee machine announced it was finished, you wrapped your hands around the cup, slurped a sip of the hot drink, the smell of which had already spread throughout the kitchen, and went for your rounds. You didn't particularly care if your behavior entered the territory of being nosy; the place belonged to your husband; the same one who had left you alone in it. So you gave yourself every right to search any corner if you wished.

Just as with the car, the apartment reflected the owner in some way; once you crossed its door, every choice seemed perfectly understandable. First of all, dark colors that were pleasantly soothing to the senses – deep shades of gray on the walls; anthracite or graphite, sometimes black, like the tiles in the kitchen; solid wooden panels in a cool shade of chocolate on the floors; mainly black furniture, silver, gray or dark blue accessories. The spaces were brightened only by large windows looking out largely onto other, equally tall buildings.

You finished your coffee, glancing around the interior of the living room, and thoughts were racing through your head – unanswered questions to yourself about whether this was where you would be living from now on, mixed with concerns about Bucky; was he safe? He was supposed to be with his uncle, but you didn't trust Timothy. What did he want from Bucky? Is he going to contact you or will he do what Timothy asks him to do without a word of warning? How long is it going to take? Is it really something serious? Dangerous?

Never marry a gangster.

You shake your head, as if that's going to help you clear up the chaos; as if that shake was going to sort out the whole mess. Back in the kitchen, you put the cup in the dishwasher, then headed to the bathroom. 

You felt a little better, washing off the hours spent on the plane; as streams of warm water ran down your sore, tired body. You reached up to a stone shelf, and came across more bottles than you thought you would; in addition to shower gel and shampoo, you found a hair conditioner.

You wrapped yourself in a fresh towel found in one of the cabinets, then left the bathroom with the intention of finding something to put on. However, you didn't manage to get to your bag; the door to the apartment opened and Bucky burst in. You didn't know if he had noticed you; he didn't even look in your direction, just grabbed his baggage from the floor, and without stopping, went to the bedroom. At first you stood there speechless – Bucky's abruptness caught you off guard; you also weren't sure if he had ignored you on purpose. But maybe it was better that way; you preferred not to get in his way. Nevertheless, after a moment, you followed him. 

Bucky walked from the bed to the wardrobe and back again, repacking his bag.

“What are you doing?” you spoke, but your voice sounded so weak and quiet that you weren't even sure if those words had actually left your mouth. Especially as he still wasn't paying attention to you. “Bucky?” you asked a little more firmly, and he glanced at you over his shoulder. “What’s going on? What are you-”

“I have to leave.”

Your lungs suddenly ran out of air, your eyes widened.

“Timothy wants me to monitor business in Italy,” he answered, nervously shoving some folded clothes into his bag. “Somehow, strangely enough, he suddenly stopped trusting our men there.” He almost snorted. 

Your lips parted involuntarily as you stared at his back. You barely consciously moved from your spot and approached Bucky. “For how long?”

“Few weeks, few months. I don't know. When he'll be satisfied enough with my work.”

You sat on the edge of the bed and stuck your eyes into the floor. “And you can’t say no.”

Bucky pressed his lips together. “I still owe him a debt. Besides, debt or not, my uncle is the head of the Family. And I crossed the line by marrying you behind his back.”

Your gaze tentatively returned to him. “He's punishing you for it..?”

He said nothing at first. He zipped up the bag, and for a brief moment you had the feeling that he was about to slam it against one of the walls.

“He'll make me break every promise I made to you,” Bucky claimed. He looked at you with what you could call fear if you knew the reason for it. One thing you were sure of – the tearing pain in his eyes. He regretted something; probably the fact that he had dragged you into this. “But I need you, Y/N.” Having stood between your legs, he dropped to his knees, his hands on your hips. “I fucking need you on my side.”

“Jamie-” You instinctively tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear in a soothing gesture. “I am on your side.”

“I don't know when I'll be back,” he repeated. “What if you'll have enough time to hate me?” His mouth twitched in a sad smile.

“I won't hate you,” you protested. “It's not your fault that you have to go. Our world is just built that way. And I get it.”

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head with clear disappointment; towards himself and the whole situation. He shifted slightly, then rested his head against your stomach, snuggling into your body. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You slid your fingers into his hair and brushed it tenderly. “It’s okay, Bucky. Really,” you whispered. He pulled back just enough to look at you. As your fingers rubbed his scalp with affection, his thumbs stroked your hips. “What if you’ll have enough time to find someone else?” you asked after a moment of silence.

“Y/N-” Bucky sighed with resignation.

“You know we are not with each other because of love,” you reminded, trying to talk some sense into him. “You want to be a good husband, and that's really great, but-” You gasped. “I don't want to get in your way. I don't want to stop you from finding what would really make you happy.”

Bucky's forehead furrowed, giving his face an offended expression. “So what? You're giving me permission to go there and cheat on you left and right?” His hands left your body and slipped on the mattress. 

“That's not what I said,” you objected right away. “And you told me practically the same thing. In your uncle’s garden.”

Bucky stared at you without even blinking. He chewed nervously on his bottom lip and shook his head, looking away for a moment. Shortly afterwards he gazed at you again. “Okay. Have it your way,” he replied. “You will be the first to know. But now I'm only yours. And you are mine as long as I am here.” He raised his hand to your cheek. Soon, however, he moved it to the back of your head to draw you closer; he pressed his lips to yours with a longing you already recognised; he kissed you for the first time since last night. And you weren't even taken aback; the gesture seemed so natural, so familiar and right.

Bucky rose from his knees, and as if by instinct you climbed onto the bed to make space for him. The mattress bent under his weight as he took the spot right in front of you. He laid another, this time a more tender kiss on your lips, then took off his sweatshirt; he didn't need to do that – the sudden desire was strong enough that you might as well satisfy it instantly, without unnecessary delay. But you were wearing only a towel, which was about to fall; Bucky craved to feel your naked skin against his own; to keep you company in total exposure.

You kissed him – slowly and sloppily – meanwhile reaching for his belt and managing to unbuckle it, wanting to assure him that you needed it too; that you were completely comfortable with the closeness he was initiating. 

Bucky pulled down his trousers and kicked them on the floor, and as his body pushed against yours, his lips traced a chaotic wet path on your neck. At one point, you even felt him grab a piece of your skin between his teeth; he sucked on it hard enough that you let out an involuntary whimper, and then irritated the sore spot with the tip of his tongue.

He sized you up with his eyes; your body stripped of its covering. You didn't feel as insecure as before – you weren't used to Bucky like that yet, but you were too absorbed in putting out your burning needs. “Fuck what I said earlier,” he rasped. “I'm not sharing you with anyone. And if that anyone happens, I'll fuck them out of your pretty little head.” He stretched his lips in a smirk, then leaned down and nuzzled your nose with his. “I can't get enough of you, baby,” he added, sinking into you without any warning. You both parted your lips; Bucky's breath stilled in his throat, and your back arched as you felt his whole cock inside you. 

His heated, heavy body brushed against yours; slowly at first, lazily even, so that he could watch your face, drinking in every little expression. And you looked at him – a little helplessly against the control he had over you, and with a hope, perhaps even a silent request, that he would be the one to fulfill this hunger he himself had aroused in you. And you knew; you could see it on his face, feel it in his every movement, that he had set himself just such a mission.

Soon his hips began pounding fast enough that your clashing, naked, sweaty bodies made that characteristic, heavenly sound – it filled the whole room, mixing with your moans and Bucky's panting. If at all possible, the combination was turning you on even more, intensifying the sensations his dick was giving you, sliding in and out in that rapid rhythm, his wet, hot lips wandering on your skin. You felt his hand suddenly clench on your hair, his teeth hooking lightly on the edge of your jaw; if he could, Bucky would absorb every bit of your body.

You didn't even know at what exact moment you wrapped your hand around Bucky's biceps; you realized this when you painfully dug your nails into it – painful for both of you, but also somehow releasing the sensations that had been building up inside you. They were piling up, and you weren't going to fight them this time either. As that seemingly familiar but actually new feeling exploded in the pit of your stomach, you tightly hugged Bucky and pulled him closer. You uncontrollably sank your teeth into his shoulder, and pure pleasure spread across his face.

With his head on your chest, Bucky was slowly climbing down from his high. You stroked his arm carefully with your knuckles, then brushed your fingertips over the mark of your teeth. 

“You’re a biter,” he murmured, feeling your touch in that spot. From the tone of his voice, you figured he was smiling while saying it. 

“Apparently,” you admitted with a little amusement. “How much time have you got?”

“Why? You want to get rid of me already?”

“I don't want to give Timothy any reason to punish us more than he already did.”

Bucky sighed heavily. He supported himself on his elbows, pulling his head away from your chest, and looked at you. You'd started the topic of Timothy again, and expected worry; that unsettling nervousness. Instead, Bucky stared at you with a gentle smile. “I wouldn't be myself if I didn't fuck with him at least a little,” he stated. “Besides…” He shrugged. “I'm saying goodbye to my wife, aren't I? And judging by his desire to have an heir, my uncle strongly respects family values.” He squinted, smiling insincerely.

You laughed, biting your bottom lip, then lifted your hands to his face. “And that's what you're going to tell him? That you were late because you were working on an heir?”

“Maybe,” Bucky said casually. Watching him with a tender grin, you stroked his cheeks with your thumbs, then carefully moved your finger down his nose; from bridge to tip. The expression on Bucky's face firmly softened – to some extent he even seemed surprised that someone had treated him with such gentleness. “Say it,” he whispered. 

“What?” This time, your thumb caressed his chin.

“That I'm yours. I need to hear it. I need to know that when I come back, I'll come back to you. To my girl.”

There was something painfully shattering about seeing him embraced by such helplessness, uncertainty about his own worth; about how you perceived him.

“I don't want to lose you,” he continued. “The thought of you, of you being there for me, is the only thing that will keep me sane, I-”

“It's okay. It's okay.” You smiled reassuringly, your hands returned to his cheeks. “You are mine, and I'm not going to look for anyone else, I promise. I'll wait for you as long as it takes, okay? I am not leaving you, Jamie.”

Bucky nodded. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your lips, immediately followed by another, much more filled with fear, insecurity, vulnerability. 

“I'll miss you,” you muttered into his mouth.

“And I will miss you. Very much.” He trailed his pecks down to your chin, your neck. One of his hands found its way between your thighs, parting them; without protest you spread your legs wider and he settled between them again. You felt his hardened cock rubbing against the inside of your thigh. You never imagined that you would affect someone so much, and knowing that you actually did put Bucky in a slightly different light; it created a new connection between you, based on intimacy and desire for each other. 

His length thrust into you again, and you whimpered as your eyes rolled back in your skull.

You got out of the car – a little sore and tired. Bucky grabbed his bag from the back seats, then reached for your hand, locking your fingers together. He didn't let it show, but you could sense that he was nervous.

A plane was already waiting on the large, empty lot; the property of the Barnes Family. Timothy was standing not far from the heavy machine, talking to the pilot; Steve was also there, but as soon as he spotted the two of you, he walked towards you.

“Y/N.” He nodded to you; you waved at him in response, plastering a slight smile on your face. 

To greet Steve, Bucky chose to drop his bag rather than let go of your hand. He put his free arm around Steve and patted him on the back. “Keep an eye on her, okay?”

“I will.”

Bucky released your hand, but only to move his arm down your back and pull you closer. You bumped against his body, resting your hands on his chest. “It'll be fine. Hmm?”

You wanted to believe it, but couldn't. That's why all you were able to do was smile sadly and press a tender kiss on his lips. Bucky rested his forehead against yours.

“I'll be waiting for you,” you said quietly, making him smile as well.

“I know.” He kissed your forehead, leaving his mouth there for a little longer than necessary. When he pulled away, he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket, then handed you the keys to the Mustang. “Here. Take care of it, alright?” 

“Alright,” you replied almost silently, lowering your gaze to the keys in your hand. As you lifted your eyes back to Bucky, you caught his stare. He looked at you with a soft smirk. You didn't say anything. Soon, however, he once again joined your lips.

“I gotta go.” He placed a kiss on the back of your hand, having brought it to his mouth, then pulled away and headed toward the plane. You pressed your trembling lips together, watching him. And again you felt that unpleasant coldness of being left alone.

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446 @learisa @sjsmith56 @aya-fay @hhiggs @wishingwell-2 @buckysgirl01 @emily-roberts @prettylittlepluviophile @leaaa008 @itvy5601 @melsunshine @pattiemac1 @marvel-fandom23 @rabbitrabbit12321 @xsecretsirenx @heyyitsreign @xhollycowx @samfreakingwinchester @thrnlvr @samjuarezzz @loustan90 @kandis-mom @abaker74 @gabshouse @casa-boiardi @globetrotter28 @fand0mskullfa1ry @iateall-yourcookies @swordofawriter

[aalyssah]

Don’t Touch What’s Mine!

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Angst/Fluff, Praise, Killing, Torture, Cursing, Yelling, Sexual Assault, Fluff, Aftercare, and more  Minors DNI 18+

Word Count: 1,413

Summary: A man tries to have his way with you not knowing you're married to a mafia man.

A/N: This is my first mob oneshot I hope you Enjoy!

Y/n was just a normal 28 year old women that many feared. That is because she is married to the one and only James "Bucky" Barnes. He's not the leader of the mafia he IS the mafia.

Everyone knows not to mess with him, but god forbid anyone that does anything to his wife that means makes her sad, mad, or uncomfortable you won't wake up the next morning. Y/n found that out a week ago.

A Week Ago:

Y/n works as an interior designer that decorates houses. Everyone likes your ideas and that what makes you love your job.

You have seen a lot of beautiful houses, but nothing compares to you and Bucky's house but, the house you were focusing on was for a family of 3. Mom, Dad, and Daughter. You walked in and was greeted by a beautiful looking women maybe mid 30s and ya'll began to talk about what she was wanting in her house.

In the corner of your eye you can see a man staring at your ass, but you didn't say anything and continue talking to the wife. After you were done talking you went to a mini table to start planning.

The man walked up and said "Hey you look real pretty are you from around here" You looked up said "Sorry I'm taken but thanks" smiling at the thought of Bucky. "What's your name?" You ask wanting to know who he was. "Josh Miller" He said confidently. “Your turn.” He sung. "Y/n Barnes.”

He looked down and saw your ring and said, "Your married to someone with the last name Barnes? How about Miller. Y/n Miller, that has a ring to it, doesn't it?"

You were trying to be professional but he was talking about your husband so you kindly said "Yes I am and if that's a problem you can talk to him yourself" He was kinda shocked because he didn't expect sass out of you. "Feisty I like it"

You were disgusted and then remembered that the women's last name was also Miller.?"Aren't you married?" He leaned closer to you, so he was near your ear. "She doesn't have to know about it." He had a smirk on his face.

You were getting uncomfortable so you got up and went to the bathroom. You needed a moment to collect yourself. You've never been in a situation were men were preying on you because Bucky is protective, but now that he's not here you're on your own.

All of a sudden the door opened to the bathroom and came through the door was Josh. "You thought you could run and hide? I can do so much better than your husband, just admit it, you want me." You were backed up against the wall. He started tracing your body with his hands, staring with groping your breast and kissing your neck. You pushed him back. "No I don't. I'm happily married and my husband can do everything that you can and can't do!"

This must have pissed him off because you saw anger in his eyes. You didn't waste a second to kick him where the sun don't shine and ran out the bathroom to the front door. You ran down the street not caring about the looks people gave you. When you thought you were a good enough distance you called Bucky.

Bucky's POV

As I was in a meeting I got a phone call from my lovely wife Y/n, I picked it up and answered. "Hey baby ho-" Before I could finish I got cut off. "B-Bucky there was a guy and he tried to do s-something please hurry, I'm s-scared!” I got up so fast and started walking to the car I noted how out of breath she sounded.

"Baby share your location now." I said in a stern yet soft voice. "Bucky" She whimpered. "He's coming"

Y/n POV

You was on the phone with Bucky when you got grabbed by Josh. "Stop running, you will be mine weather you like it or not!" All of a sudden you heard car tires screeching on the road and walked out was Bucky and his guards and he looked pissed.

"If you don't get your fucking hands off my wife I will make sure they're off your body!" Bucky said his voice laced with venom. Josh immediately let go scarred for his own safety. Bucky instantly pulled you in his arms as you started crying. He looked at his men. "Bring him home to the basement."

Bucky lead you to the car and held you all while whispering in your ear things like 'You did so good, darling without me.' and 'You're such a strong woman'. Bucky texted the maid’s telling them to get a warm bath ready and for them to cook your favorite food.

Once you got home you could see gaurds dragging Josh down to the basement. Bucky lead you upstairs to the bathroom slowly taking your clothes off. He saw the bruises on your neck and got even more angrier, but pushed it to the side when he heard "Bucky, please stay with me." Bucky looked back at you. He saw how desperate and scared you liked so he stripped and got in the bath, slowly washing you.

"B-Bucky I tried to stop him" You said shaking. He shushed you saying it's not you’re fault and that you don't have to worry about him anymore and got up grabbed a towel and took you to the bed

He grabbed one of his shirts and a pair of panties and dressed me.

After that he got dressed and put on my favorite show and went downstairs to get the food. He came back and feed me slowly waiting for you. He decided to wait till you went to sleep to go do his "business". He grabbed you pulled the covers up and cuddle you until you fell asleep knowing you’re safe and protected.

Bucky POV

Y/n fell asleep so I made my way down to the basement. There I saw a glorious site. (Not as good as a naked Y/n). The fucker that tried touching my wife tied to a chair with tables on the side filled with different weapons.

I slowly walked over and took off the cloth off his mouth and said "So you think you can touch my wife and get away with it!?" Josh then responded "I-I didn't touch her she's lying s-she's f-framing me!" I let out a chuckle "So your calling my wife a liar?!" | yelled.

All color drained from Josh face. "N-n-no sir she just mad that I'm m-married and have a d-daughter so she s-set me up." he said stuttering. Bucky took a moment to think "So your married....What will your wife and daughter think when your body is sitting on the porch of your house?"

“No p-please. She’s just mad that I'm m-married and have a d-daughter so she s-set me up." Josh said stuttering. Bucky took a moment to think "So your married....What will your wife and daughter think when your body is sitting on the porch of your house?"

"Please don't kill me promise it won't happen again." He plead. "Oh don't worry you're right it won't happen again." With that being said Bucky took the pliers and twisted his fingers one by one smiling satisfied as he heard the cracks and screams of the man.

His guards watched in terror thinking what if they were in that position. "SO YOU GONNA TELL ME WHY YOU THOUGHT TOUCHING MY WIFE, Y/N BARNES, WAS ACCEPTABLE!?" I yelled. I was beyond pissed. “I'm sorry I-..... thought she was-... s-single." He cried taking breaths. "Well it's a shame that your wife and daughter isn't going to have a husband and father in their life." Bucky said picking up brass knuckles.

Bucky punched him square in the nose hearing the crack and seeing blood coming on his face. He started punching Josh in the jaw, throat, legs everywhere he could to release the anger he felt for this man.

After he thought there was enough of that he asked his men to untie him and leave the room.

His men untied him and left. Bucky grabbed a bat and started swinging at him beating him to the the ground blood was spilling under his body and the bones cracking was just as deadly. He couldn't even scream anymore. "P-pl-" Before he could finish, Bucky pulled out his gun and shot him 5 times. "DON'T TOUCH WHAT'S MINE!" He yelled.

Satisfied Bucky went to the bathroom downstairs so he wouldn't wake up Y/n and showered, Change, and went to bed. He pulled you close with a smile on his face knowing your safe.

[dreamwritesimagines]

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?”

Chapter 18

[soft-and-bitter]

We Can Last Forever

Mafia!Bucky x Ex!Reader

You turn to an old flame in a moment of desperation. Bucky takes full advantage of the situation to bargain for something he's wanted as soon as he set eyes on you.

Word Count: 1853

Warning(s): swearing, descriptions drug use and sexual situations

If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or leaving some feedback, thanks! ❤

M A S T E R L I S T

"Look who we have here," he murmured, smirking. There wasn't a trace of worry in his tone, nor on his handsome face. And for reasons you couldn't quite grasp, these facts only served to elevate your own stress, the urgency of the situation now clearer than ever.

Bucky was your last resort.

"Hi," you greeted. Despite the sheer brevity involved, even you could hear how unsure you sounded, but it was just as well; you were winging this after all, what with all your options up in flames. On the other hand, you also couldn't fuck this up either, because what else would you come up with if this didn't work out?

With a deep breath, you tried again. "Hi, Bucky. I'm sorry this is so last minute."

He tilted his head, the black turtleneck he wore accentuating the steep line of his jaw. "It wouldn't have been if you'd called ahead of time. Oh, wait," he said, lip curling, "you got rid of my number from your phone. How could I have ever forgotten?"

You looked away, both hands gripping your phone behind your purse. Rather than place it next to you on the plush sofa, you'd opted to set it on your lap. Maybe you saw it as a barrier, however meagre, just something other than the distance that separated you from Bucky. For protection? But it was you who had sought him out, not the other way around.

There was no stilling your frantic thoughts, all those contradictions and uncertainties colliding against each other to form some ugly kaleidoscope of confusion in your head. Several stories below, the club was at the height of its frenzy, the bass throbbing faintly against the walls of Bucky's office, a cursed soundtrack to score the situation you were in, with no promise it was ending anytime soon.

"I . . . it felt like the right thing to do at the time," you tried explaining, still clutching your phone tightly. "I wasn`t ready to deal with the truth."

He chuckled softly. "Yet here you are," he said, each word sliding past his lips in a slow drawl. "I guess there's no keeping me out of your life after all, despite that text of yours."

You turned your head to look back up at him again. Bucky was leaning against his expansive chrome and glass desk, long fingers curled around the edges. His jet-black suit was tailored within an inch of its life; one of his cufflinks winking at you playfully, as if amused by your discomfort and panic.

"You're right, I guess I can't."

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Well, it is what it is. Now tell me why you're here."

Here was your moment, your golden opportunity. You didn't shy away from the details. Why would you when everything you described was all part of his sordid world, the drugs and the money owed, the nefarious parties involved? And so you laid it all out before him like a spread made up of your family's suffering: stressed and overworked, David had gone back to an old habit his dirt bag of an uncle had first introduced him to more than a decade ago. One hit after another, then another, and now your brother—the smarter of the two, in your opinion, and certainly the more successful—was now in so much debt he'd brought up the possibility of selling your mom's home for cash.

Bucky didn't react when you told him how much you needed to borrow. That soothed your nerves somewhat; if he wasn't fazed by the amount, then maybe he'd be more willing to part with his money.

You hoped.

"We'll have the money back in your hands before you even get a chance to miss it," you assured with a smile you hoped was blinding enough for Bucky. "David just has to get through this hump, but once he does, everything will be fine."

Just for a moment you wondered whose worries you were really trying to assuage—Bucky's or yours? Because paying off David's dealer was one thing, but your brother had also promised to check into rehab asap. Yet even with his high-paying FAANG job in Silicon Valley, he had already blown through his savings, together with any credit he'd been approved for. To top it all off, the massive bonus he kept harping on about wouldn't get paid out until the end of the year. You yourself had funnelled whatever money you could spare to help his cause. Where the hell would the money come from until then?

Bucky sighed audibly, pulling you out of your thoughts. "You haven't exactly explained why I should help you in the first place," he said.

He wasn't wrong, you realized. And really, it was what you`d hoped to avoid all along. "Listen, I know you probably won't believe me when I say this, but . . . I guess I thought we had something special going on between us. Special enough that I felt I could turn to you."

"You're right, I don't believe you," he confirmed, shaking his head. "Try harder, won't you?"

You stared up at him, a furrow between your brows. "It's the truth, Bucky. I was scared, okay? And let's face it: you knew I'd be, didn't you? Otherwise you would've told me from the start what the hell you really were."

He didn't respond to that right away. In the silence that ensued, with the club's bass pounding at the same speed as your heartbeat, you began to doubt yourself. Couldn't you have handled that with a little more finesse? What if Bucky was offended by your response that he decided he was going to turn you away?

When he finally spoke, it was with an edge of mockery and triumph in his voice. "Just so we're clear: you've come to ask a crime lord to help you when the very fact of me being one had you running off in the first place."

"I couldn't think of anyone else to go to."

Bucky scoffed. "I sure hope the irony's not lost on you."

The smile you offered him was sardonic at best. "Believe me, it's not."

Just when you were convinced that you'd screwed this up entirely, Bucky pushed himself off the edge of his desk and moved towards you, closing the distance. Neon blue strobe lights flashed through the floor-to-ceiling window that looked out over the club, casting otherworldly shadows across his face as he stalked nearer. You didn't turn your head to watch when he dropped into the sofa next to you, stretching his arms wide across the headrest. His fingers feathered against one of your shoulder blades.

From the corner of your eye you watched as he tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, sighing once again. "If you want my help, you'll comply with whatever I set out for you," he said.

"Like what?"

You could feel his gaze on you. "For starters, I'd like a kiss."

"Are you serious? Now?"

"Now," he echoed.

"And that's it?"

He gave a light shrug. "The night's still young. We'll just have to see how things go."

"But why?"

"Why not?" he countered, fingers drumming against the headrest. "Besides, you're the one who thought there was something special between us. Let's see what's left."

For a moment, you hesitated. Bucky's request was simple, but that was where the uncertainty lay. There was something between the two of you, even now, even after you left him in the lurch, that it was enough for you to reach out to him. You were doubtful a kiss would prove that to him, though.

There had been so much more you'd done with him, after all.

"Well?"

You studied his face. His expression was still passive, but curiosity shone bright in his eyes. What choice did you have? David was counting on you now, his own fear and panic elevating your own. With a tilt of your head you leaned forward, eyes falling closed, as you caught Bucky's lips with yours.

Bucky didn't react at first, and you nearly stopped, too shy and uncertain to entertain the possibility of being unwanted, that this was just a cheap way for him to get back at you. But then his lips moved against yours, bold and intentional; when he coaxed your mouth opened and his tongue slid past your teeth, you realized.

He still wanted you.

Both your phone and your purse dropped somewhere below you as one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders tightly. Bucky drew you in deeper, his hold fierce, lips desperate and bruising, pulling you into a well of memories: his naked body against yours, mouth lingering on intimate spots that made you cry out in ecstasy, the sweet words he'd whispered in your ear while you came down from your high. Let me give you more. Let me give you everything. You just have to stay. Can you do that? For me?

His lips latched onto the side of your neck as you lost yourself further in his touch, fingers tangled in his dark hair, while his large hand fanned across your breast—

Your phone was like a grenade going off. You jerked back in panic, gasping for breath while the familiar melody on your device blared throughout the room. It was Bucky who got to it first.

"How fitting," he said, turning your phone around so you could see the screen. "It's your brother."

Heart hammering in your chest, you didn't move at first.

"Go ahead, answer it," he ordered, holding out your phone to you. "Tell David the money will be wired to his account in less than thirty and he's got you to thank for this."

His words were like a bucket of cold water flung at your face. With sudden clarity you remembered why you'd come here in the first place, and it wasn't to re-ignite things with an old flame. You needed Bucky's help, and, to your immense relief, he was giving it to you.

When you accepted your brother's call you cut straight to the chase, telling him of the lifeline Bucky was throwing his way. The only one, you emphasized, hanging up before he could profess any gratitude. David had work to do, but you'd done your part. Your mom would get to keep her house, just like she deserved to.

You looked at Bucky. "Thank you. You don't know how much this means to my family."

He smirked at you, his hair now tousled thanks to your doing. "Don't thank me just yet, sweetheart. We're not quite done, are we?"

During the call one of his hands had crept along the inside of your thigh. It remained there, his hold entirely too tight and too hot, even through the fabric of your slacks. When Bucky spoke, you didn't miss the raw desire in his voice, the predatory anticipation that lingered on his smirk.

"We'll finally finish what we started, sweetheart. Just like we were always meant to."

Jimin's "Like Crazy" had me in such a chokehold when I first listened to it that it inspired this whole damn story; it's the song I imagined blasting down in the club while Reader haggles with Bucky. Hope you guys enjoyed it!

[periprose]

Therapy

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky Barnes is your newest patient at your clinic. As a therapist, you know all about having to maintain decency and professional respect with your patients, even when they seem unruly. But Bucky isn't just any ordinary man– he's the top earner of the Russian mafia down in Brighton Beach, and he's temperamental and not really down with therapy. He's only seeing you out of necessity, and the last thing you're expecting is other strange developments in your relationship.

Genre: Deeply inspired by Tony Soprano and Melfi's relationship on the Sopranos, Mafia!Bucky Barnes, not really pro mafia, doctor-patient to friends to lovers, lots of psychology and therapy talk throughout, fluff

Word Count: 8.5k

Bucky waits as the secretary informs him that his therapist will be ready for him soon, and he’s sweating bullets, feeling like a child who’s been told to wait for a punishment from the school principal.

He has absolutely no idea what you’ll be like– he was just recommended a therapist by his physician, because apparently his blood pressure is unfortunately incredibly high for someone his age, and it’s going to become an issue later on if he doesn’t fix it now.

Of course, Bucky knows that stress comes with the job, so no wonder his blood pressure is so high. He can’t exactly be his gang’s boss if he’s having heart palpitations and needing to sit down every few moments when he should be intimidating his enemies and rivals. The Russian mafia requires him to be almost perfect at every instance, so they can keep their riches and luxuries growing. He’s one of their top earners, but this goddamn stress is starting to ruin things for him.

He’s come here under the guise that he’s out repairing his car, even telling his mother and his sister that, and his underlings aren’t going to argue with him regardless of what he says. It’s a good thing this office is in New York, so he didn’t have to travel to anywhere particularly suspicious.

 But Bucky still feels so strange, so unlike himself, feeling both wary and somewhat angry by this situation that he’s in, where the grey carpet and the equally dull pink-grey of the walls makes him feel like he’s trapped. Trapped in this skyscraper, when really he should be down at Sam’s bar, clinking his drink next to Steve’s and watching the sun set on Brighton Beach. 

And he would be, if it wasn’t for the constant, clenched fear in his heart, the pit in his stomach that never seems to go away despite his attempts to fill it with drinks and the women and other vices, and he feels a chill– he wonders if he will ever successfully remove himself from this lifestyle, or if he even wants to. Bucky sometimes believes that it’s more likely he’ll die here.

Bucky thinks for a moment that he should leave. Now, while he still can, because he thinks this appointment is probably pointless.

“Mr. Barnes?” You open your office door, and Bucky sighs and stands up. “Right this way.”

He notices you don’t exactly look how he envisioned. You have a no-nonsense appearance– none of that frilly new age bullshit he was expecting, no crystal bracelets or spiritual tattoos or extra piercings– you have a khaki blazer on and tidy slacks. Your hair is coiffed in a way that says respectable, but you also don’t have the time to try too hard with your looks. Your glasses make you look intelligent, but also scary in how you peer at him.

He follows you into your office– everything is in a cushy shade of brown, from the carpets to the sofa chairs, way up to the wood paneling and shelves surrounding your desk, and the framed certificates displaying your knowledge, and it's immediately more comforting than the outside room. Bucky wonders if that's by design.

He sits down on an armchair, and his fingers, out of their own accord, grip the armrests as if he’s dying. Hell, maybe he is. 

"I've done a little bit of reading on why you're here." You start murmuring over your patient files on your desk as you look for his particular one. "Matt Murdock, Jessica Jones… ah, there it is. James Buchanan Barnes." 

"...Bucky is fine." He clenches his jaw– no one has called him James in literal decades, and he's not going to let some fancy doctor like you start. Bucky barely wants to be here as it is.

"In this office, we have a level of professional respect that needs to be maintained." You correct him gently, not because he did anything wrong, but just as a careful reminder. "I will address you as Mr. Barnes. Is that okay?"

"Sure." Bucky feels tense, waiting for the hour to go by any faster than it currently is. You look at him– not in a way that makes him feel as if he's being sized up, because he'd definitely make a backhanded comment about that– but in a way that articulates some form of curiosity.

It's to Bucky's displeasure that he can't tell whether or not it's just simply the look of a therapist, or if you’re really, truly interested in him. He nods at you– you understand he wants you to get on with it.

“Okay. So you’re here because you’ve been having high blood pressure, and heart palpitations.” You scan over the note written by his physician– scrawled in a hasty cursive– and look back up at him. “You’re in good shape, and you’re a bit too young to be having age-related heart problems.”

“Nice observation, doc.” Bucky retorts, and you half-smile at that– your best patients have always been the snarky ones, and you figure it’s because they have that sense of humour that is sometimes needed for therapy. “Obviously I’m stressed the fuck out.”

“Stressed, Mr. Barnes?” You cross your arms, and sit down in front of him in your own armchair, starting the session legitimately. “And why do you think that it is?”

“I said it was obvious. Aren’t you a doctor? Shouldn’t you be smarter than this?” Bucky shakes his head, wondering why he has to delve into something so clear. “My jobs, doc. They take too much out of me these days– it’s a wonder I don’t just end it.”

You ignore the perceived slight against your intelligence. “Why can’t you end it, Mr. Barnes?”

“...There’s too many people counting on me.” Bucky sighs in exasperation. “My mother, she’s not gonna be able to fend for herself if I’m not bringing in the income– I’ve considered putting her in a home, but she thinks I’m trying to get rid of her– and my baby sister, Rebecca, she’s used to a certain, uh, lifestyle now. It’s not very fair of me to take that away from her.”

Bucky closes his eyes. “That’s not even counting the rest of my family.”

“Your family, or your ‘family?’” You mimic quotation marks, meaning his crime family, and Bucky swallows. “Mr. Barnes, I’d like to remind you. Don’t say anything that would require me to break the patient-doctor confidentiality agreement.”

Bucky takes this to mean that you know what he does for a living, and he’s not stupid– he was never going to get really into that, say anything that would really, truly implicate him, he knows all about the laws around snitching– he just thought to the rest of the world, his reputation wouldn't precede him quite as much.

“Okay. Should I start with where it all began, or just what’s on my mind?” Bucky wrinkles his forehead as he thinks, and you leave the floor open for him to begin wherever he likes.

/

Bucky starts with how his latest “room cleaning” (you assume he’s putting up a front as a janitor) went south, because there are certain stains that you can never get rid of.

“Usually, I’m quick on my feet– I know the rules and laws around disposing of “stains,” and I only have a limited amount of time before the smell starts getting worse and neighbours start asking questions.” Bucky illuminates for you, and you get the feeling stains don’t exactly just mean blood, maybe body disposal or something like that. 

“This time, though?” Bucky continues, and his voice gets raspy, as patients’ often do, when they start elaborating and getting to the difficult parts of their experiences. “Steve asked me what was wrong, why was I frozen in place, and I leaned against the wall, couldn’t say anything.”

“I was feeling that… y’know, that loud sort of thumping–” Bucky suddenly motions to his head, unable to look quite at you, instead feeling the sensation he was describing. “Like a heartbeat, but in my head?”

“Yes. I know what you mean.” You write this down as well. “Those are signs of your heart palpitations– most likely the pressure in your head was induced from a panic attack.”

“Right.” Bucky swallows the lump in his throat. “It was too loud to even keep my eyes open, Jesus– it was scary, I started yelling at Steve and then I… I turned over to the side, and puked.”

“So you’re struggling with maintaining your composure. Letting loose with anger, panic, other aggressive emotions.” You note, and Bucky raises his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, but it’s worse than that. That stuff can be… useful, in my line of work.” Bucky cracks a few of his knuckles. “I can’t exactly do my fucking work if I’m puking up shit, right?”

“Sure. But we’re here to focus on why. On what’s going on with your mental health.” You gently prod him to keep going. 

“My sister, Rebecca, she’s saying she’s gonna go audition for movies.” Bucky explains, with a sideways, sarcastic smirk that has you thinking this guy doesn’t look half bad. “Not adult movies, mind you, doc– I immediately thought that and tried to talk her out of– but real Hollywood productions, something that a New Money socialite like her could potentially get into, for real.”

“Tell me what the conversation was like.”

“Well, Rebecca’s been going to acting classes, and she told me that it was just a hobby. Just something all the other girls in Brighton were doing.” Bucky nonchalantly scratches his cheek, but his jaw clenches as he continues. “But she sat me down, and said ‘Buck, my teacher says I have a real good shot at making it. I know how you feel about this, but I can’t just sit and spend the rest of my life doing nothing.’ Listen, doc, she has a point– I’ve always felt a little bad that Rebecca just sits there, looking pretty. But I didn’t want her to go and do this, and–”

Bucky inhales. “I couldn’t speak to her. I felt dizzy, and I sat down, and I felt like I had to… I had to either run or fight this thing before it got too far.”

“Fight-or-flight.” You affirm, and you point at him with a well-groomed fingernail. “Hm. That sounds like the real issue.” 

Bucky frowns at that.

“Huh?”

“You’re not just afraid of losing your sister– you clearly have a fear of what the future entails. You’re exhibiting symptoms of PTSD.” You clarify, and Bucky shifts around in his seat, wanting more of an explanation. “You’re in a constant state of panic because you don’t know what life will bring you.”

That explanation rings through him, and he’s drawn to a silence. 

“But why now?” Bucky eventually mutters, staring down at the carpet again, this time focusing on a piece of lint that hadn’t been vacuumed. “Isn’t life always uncertain?”

“Well, PTSD is built up because of past trauma. Anything can really induce it again– something that’s triggered you appropriately, whether it be through similar emotions or similar events.” You think that over, and then nod. “It sounds as if you are experiencing a relapse in trauma… perhaps due to the nature of your work, or because the lack of control with Rebecca– possibly leading to a blown cover or her newfound independence– and most likely of all, it could be because you have not let go of those feelings and use them in response to many different situations. It’s not uncommon, Mr. Barnes, to become used to traumatic responses as ‘how it’s supposed to be.’ If it’s all you know, you won’t expect any different until it’s too late.”

Bucky realizes that that’s exactly how he felt when he was sitting in the waiting room. Like all of this was useless, an attempt to fix something that he felt was totally ordinary. If it wasn’t for the extremity of his recent reactions, he would’ve just kept going on like this. 

Something about this revelation pisses him off. 

“I believe we should try to focus on this and work through it.” You check the clock, and then smile professionally at him. “That’s all the time we have for today. Any parting questions, thoughts, ideas?”

Bucky is still silent. He is mulling over the fact that you’ve already seemed to figure him out, at least partially– he wanted more of a challenge, more of something to use against you so he could successfully call therapy a bunch of bullshit. He feels a sense of relief that the hour is over, but also annoyance over the fact that he wants to keep going.

“...Thanks, doc.” Bucky bids you goodbye, and you nod and walk him to the door. 

You feel the animosity in the air, but you know that’s not rare, especially considering who your patient is.

/

Mr. Barnes is terrifying when he glares at you.

His third session had started off with a story about a “coworker” he had to have a talking to, and when you pried just a bit deeper, wanting to know what exactly the coworker had done, he inhaled sharply, and stared you down with those blue-grey eyes. 

You don’t know how to respond to his silence, to his mob boss intimidation tactics. Bucky might be the most difficult patient you’ve had so far, and you do not want to push too far and hurt yourself in the process.

You maintain your poker face, needing to do so to maintain the safe space you have made not just for Bucky, but for yourself. If he ever came forward too quickly, attacked you– it would be the end of your relationship with him.

“Why did you stop speaking, Mr. Barnes?” You break the silence, and Bucky continues to stare you down. “I thought we were getting towards a–”

"You think I'm stupid, huh?" Bucky scoffs at you. "You want me to reveal everything about myself, right? This isn't enough to make me make a fool of myself. Doesn't matter if you keep offering me little platitudes, or if your office is nice and warm, or if you happen to be a very pretty, smart doctor lady. It's not gonna fucking work on me."

You look taken aback for just a moment, and then smile neatly at him. "Wonderful, Mr. Barnes. I think you're making significant progress."

"Really?" Bucky furrows his brows. "You're not gonna tell me I'm rejecting change, or some shit like that?"

"Funny you should mention one of the main pillars of therapy." You bite your lip as you think. “No, this is actually a part of it, is it not? You are formulating a response to the change, which means you are getting results, somewhere inside you. You don’t have to tell me what exactly it is, Mr. Barnes, it’s evident in the way you reject it.”

“God, how do I get you off my back then?”  Bucky sighs and then laughs a little. “Okay, fine, doc. I’m only trying this shit so I can do my work, get it? Don’t try to rehabilitate me.”

“Noted.” You pretend to write that down, but actually write three times three equals nine. Just a random sentence that looks like something important.

You won’t be upfront about this, because you don’t want to scare him away– but therapy is not some sort of quick fix. Rehabilitation will have to be apart of Bucky Barnes’ regime someday, at least as the end result of his therapy, or he’ll never have the mental strength he needs to move on.

Several of your clients have had to build up the right state of mind in order to then remove themselves from the situation. Bucky can’t be any different. 

“Alright. Sorry.” Bucky doesn’t usually apologize, ever, but something about how your eyes– normally so reserved in their emotions– became wide-eyed, slightly fearful of him, made him want to take a step back and stop. “Should I keep going?”

You’re taking a moment, because you want to know why he snapped like that. What exactly did you say? Should you avoid the phrase next time? How do you help Bucky and protect yourself? Is it worth delving deeply into his past, when you risk getting hurt by his tendencies?

Every therapist has this moment, you know that. Some of your colleagues have passed on patients to you when they felt that it was too much for them. And you have an inkling that Bucky is going to be the one to watch for you. 

You think that Bucky doesn’t like when you ask for specifics. Or that he’s getting frustrated that you’re getting to him, so he pushes back– but really, just like you said, if Bucky was truly not being changed by any of this, he wouldn’t be responding at all. You decide to be patient.

“You can keep going if you would like to.” You respond quietly, carefully, and Bucky nods and continues on with his story.

“So the guy– the coworker– he’s been harassing one of my other coworkers, right. And that little guy is pretty wet behind the ears, too young to really stand up for himself.” Bucky is shaking his head in quiet disappointment. “So the second he came too close– did too much that he shouldn’t have done– I ended it.”

“I see.”

“And it’s not that I didn’t want to do it– I did wanna end that particular situation, doc. It was just that the kid wasn’t doing enough to fight back, but after I did it, everything felt…” Bucky trails off, staring at the floor, his eyes beginning to water. “Different. Bad. All this shit I do is for a reason, and I usually… I like it. But the kid started wailing, crying, and for a second, I felt really shit about the whole thing. Like I shouldn’t have gone that far.”

You take a moment to write that down, that Bucky is beginning to feel some semblance of regret.

“But you know what’s crazy, doc? Even though I feel bad about it, I still want to do it. Doesn’t that sound insane?” Bucky swallows, and he looks at you, maybe for comfort, maybe for an explanation. “I can’t stop– I won’t stop. I just need to keep going and stop being such a pussy about it.”

“You’re focusing on the wrong aspect, Mr. Barnes.” You chime in, and he shakes his head, tapping at his arm rest. “Why did you feel bad? What about this younger man had you feeling, well, out of sorts?”

“I told you already, doc, he was screaming and crying and it was just– it was too much.” Bucky repeats, but he feels himself growing smaller, suddenly feeling tiny, just like when he was a young man starting out in this world. “I guess… maybe, just maybe it brought up some bad stuff inside me.”

“Yes, this is the problem. Being in these situations will take a toll on you– even if you still need to do them, Mr. Barnes– and so you’re beginning to feel the memories roll back in. It’s all a part of how you’ve been unintentionally triggering yourself the last few years, I’m guessing, because you can’t simply forget the bad times forever.” You point out to him, and he shuts his eyes.

“Yeah, so I’m a fucking psycho? There’s a whole bunch of things about myself that I don’t even know?” Bucky scoffs at himself, feeling very unmasculine and more like a baby. 

“Don’t tear yourself down that much.” You remark, not unkindly. “I myself have had many bad, sad, unspeakable times– people are more broken than you realize.”

“Yeah, really?” Bucky looks mystified. “What kinda trouble could a lady like you get into? You’re very clever, and you’re probably well-off… I’d figure you’d keep your nose outta bad shit.”

“It’s not that simple, is it?” You lean back in your chair, pick a loose thread off your blazer. “Sometimes bad shit picks you, Mr. Barnes. That’s why we should not blame ourselves for things outside of our control.”

“Hey, don’t leave me hanging.” Bucky shoots back suddenly, sitting more present and aware of you than he had before. “What happened to you, doc?”

“That’s not why we’re here, Mr. Barnes.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Bucky is half smiling, looking more roguish and understandably a little intrigued. “You’ve been hearing all about me, the least I deserve is some reciprocation.”

You blink. “Mr. Barnes, you’re paying me to be here for you. My advice is–”

“Alright, alright. Letting it go now.” Bucky raises his hands in a gesture meant to stop you from continuing. “Keep your secrets, it makes you more mysterious. More hot.”

You raise your eyebrows and then laugh. Just a little snort– and Bucky smiles.

“Okay, Mr. Barnes. We’ve got about seven minutes left, so I’ll tell you a little about myself.” You start, and Bucky raises his eyebrows.

“You’re that desperate to keep me from finding you attractive? What is this, patients and doctors aren’t allowed to–”

“They’re definitely not.” You silence him, but you can tell from his expression he likes the challenge. “Anyways. I’m thirty-three years old, I have two degrees, a PhD in psychology and a bachelor’s in social work– I did both at the same time– I’ve lived in New York my whole life, and my mother still believes that I haven’t done enough. Always going on about how I’m wasting my potential.”

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky pinches his forehead. “It’s always the smart girls like you who get way too much hate thrown at them. Even with two degrees, she’s like that? Want me to talk to her? Have a little one-on-one?”

“No, no.” You start laughing for real and then have to compose yourself, but Bucky has a different expression now, a sort of soft look in his eyes, and you find yourself turning a little warm. “I appreciate that, Mr. Barnes, but there’s no way I could let you do that.”

“Well, at least you considered it.” Bucky smiles and you feel a strange fit of passion inside you, that this guy who hardly knows you is willing to go that far. 

That perhaps, even as a shadowy, veiled observer, meant to impart advice and be relatively untouchable… you could be touched, too. 

You swallow, ignoring the thought that he’s rather handsome.

/

You’re out shopping for a new dress. It’s your sister-in-law’s birthday, and you know she wanted a bit of a fancy dinner for whatever reason. She’s turning 31, so there’s nothing special about it, but your brother, Viz, insisted that you go along with it.

“Wanda, Wanda, Wanda…” You mumble under your breath. She loves red, so you know you have to stay away from that colour. You’re leaning towards a navy-blue, simple dress with no details, just to be hidden in the background with.

“Hey, doc. Didn’t think I’d see you here.” Bucky suddenly ambushes you from the aisle, and you blink before refusing to make eye contact with him.

It’s fine that you’re his therapist, but in public? You worry about the perception on your work. Bucky is kind of infamous– sometimes your secretary will ask for gory details on what he does. You’ve never shared anything, but you also know that Bucky himself is relatively confidential about the whole thing.

“Hello, Mr. Barnes.” You utter quietly, and he tuts and grins at your expression. 

“Why do you look so scared?” He snorts, and with an overly familiar touch, his hand is on your shoulder.

You know you should be pushing him aside, so not to ruin the careful, purposefully respectful relationship between you two, but it’s also in public– Bucky has no reason to follow your rules here– and he’s not one to be trifled with.

“Not scared, just, uh, taken off guard.” You admit, and he laughs a little. “I’m just dress shopping.”

“I can see that.” Bucky gently pulls the dress you’re holding so he can look at it carefully. “That’s not you, I don’t think. The style is too frumpy– you look better in what you wear in the office.”

“Oh, really? So what is ‘me’, Mr. Barnes?” You wonder how long Bucky has been checking you out, supposedly enough that he knows your style. 

“Mmm… something like this?” He holds up a dress that just barely can be called one, black rhinestone straps being held together with skinny strips of fabric that would barely cover your breasts or ass, and you roll your eyes and put it back on the rack. “I’m kidding, just kidding. That’s more the local strippers’ vibe, I know.”

“You’re revealing a bit about your habits, huh.” You look at him pointedly. 

“Hey, blame the job. That’s where most dudes want to meet up.” Bucky scans through the rack and then picks up a much more you dress, something maroon, little embroidered flowers and filigree in the threadwork, and fitted enough that it would show off your body. Shorter than you would’ve liked, but you figure that’s Bucky’s gaze coming in.

“Wow.” You reach out for it, and Bucky gives you a smile that you’re sure has dazzled many, many women. 

“I’ll, uh, let you try that on. I’m heading to work, but I’ll see ya around, doc.” Bucky flashes a quick wave at you and heads on out, and you’re left feeling like you wanted more out of him.

/

The next session with Bucky, probably the ninth or tenth, he’s a lot more agreeable. A lot more open about what’s going on.

“My ma, you know, she’s getting into a bit of a hostile nature. I don’t know what spurred it on.” Bucky shakes his head and looks towards the ceiling. “She never used to get so upset over some of these things– last week she got upset because the wallpaper of her new sitting room was too dark or something– and I think she’s losing it. She’s losing control and doesn’t know what to do.”

“You’re right, Mr. Barnes. How does that affect you?” You lean in as you write this down. “How will you respond to that?”

“I think I get it, you know, doc? I feel like I can’t control everything all the time either.” Bucky begins a rhythm, showing his understanding of the situation. “She’s not wrong that it’s annoying when the little things don’t work out… sometimes it’s like all the small things are building up and then everything feels shit and you have to start screaming.”

“Good. Yes, exactly.” You nod your agreement, and Bucky nods and keeps going.

“I don’t know what I can do. Sometimes it feels like she’s got something, some undiagnosed illness, because even if I support her, she’s not always listening.” Bucky sounds despondent. “I say that she’s not at fault for what happens to her. That she’s not crazy, just in a bad place. But she tells me to fuck off, too, and I don’t… I can’t say I don’t deserve that, because I know I haven’t been the best son. I am the one of the things she can’t control, and even if there’s been some good, some helpful stuff… I still know she loathes me.”

“It’s difficult to come to terms with some of the negative things you may have done to her.” You feel more invested in Bucky’s story than you thought you would– you can see tears building up in his eyes. “But I commend you for doing your best, Mr. Barnes. I hope you can recognize this is a big milestone in your own personal development– even if it is difficult to rebuild your relationship with your mother, you are still there for her, and you can see what she needs. You must understand that your mother’s reaction to you is outside of your control. You can simply try your best to continue on with this knowledge and her, or move on past it– I believe you will make the right decision, though.”

Bucky sniffs a little, and wipes his eyes. “Thanks, doc. I’m glad we have these talks– you make me feel smarter.”

You half-smile at that. “I’m only showing you what you are already capable of, Mr. Barnes.”

He snickers a little. “My ma would like you.”

You feel a swell of pride and fondness that Bucky would say such a thing, even if you have no idea how true that it is, and you do your best to just keep that repressed. You can’t go on as his therapist if you’re starting to get too involved.

Bucky asks if he can pay you double for your services and you insist that he doesn’t need to do that. You feel as if you’ve gained more than just a well-paying client– you enjoy your sessions with him now.

/

Wanda’s birthday dinner is swanky, at some upper-class Italian place down by Brighton. Wanda is half-amused, half-irritated that you’re wearing such a lovely red-toned dress, but she says nothing of it.

Viz, your brother, is kind of weird around you. He seems to notice something about you.

“Anything different at work? Maybe a pay raise, something like that?” He asks out of curiosity at the dinner table, and you shake your head. “Ah, well. You just seem so smiley, sis.”

“Yeah. Just glowing, and at my birthday, too.” Wanda jokes, and you don’t have any answers.

You feel as if you know the reason why– and he shows up just as you’re thinking it.

Bucky is dressed in a nice blazer, dress pants, looking much more slick than he often does at your office. He comes in with most likely another member of his gang, and together they go sit in a corner booth.

You feel your face flush a deep red– he looks gorgeous, almost as if he could ditch being a mob boss and become an actor or a model instead. You can’t help but glance at him, hoping he’ll catch your eyes.  

Eventually, you get up to use the restroom. You stumble a little on your heels– and it’s that motion that causes Bucky to look up again. 

He’s taken aback– it’s you, but you look stunning, far more beautiful than he had ever seen you look during your sessions together, and that’s saying a lot because you were already incredibly distracting before, and a part of him is jealous and wonders why you’ve held yourself away from him like that. But Bucky is more rational now, and he knows that you haven’t done anything to make him attracted to you. He’s just like that.

He notices, with a bit of a possessive, satisfied flair, that you’re wearing the dress he picked. Bucky was right, it does suit you a lot, and he enjoys being able to make out your figure while having a bit of it left to his imagination. He sees the dip of your collar, where your cleavage is just beginning to come out, and bites his lip, hoping that he’d get to see more soon if he was so lucky.

You pass by his table, pulling your shawl a little tighter around you, and Bucky waves at you. You seem to blush– and he likes it a lot, likes being able to make the smart, always-one-step-ahead doctor flustered– and it’s like your roles have been switched, that you are now looking for his approval.

He gives it you readily. “You look great, doc. Love the hair– and the dress.”

“Ah… thank you, Mr. Barnes.” You beam warmly at him, and continue on your way to the washroom.

“Who the hell was that?” Steve asks, scratching his beard.

“Uh, right. That was my therapist.”

“That was your therapist?” Steve splutters, and Bucky shoves him a little. “Jesus, man. I need to get me one of those. She was hot.”

Bucky agrees with him, but still tells him to fuck off. He doesn’t want to share you. 

He motions to one of the waitresses, and tells her he’d like to pay for your table anonymously. When the bill arrives, many hours later, Wanda is incredibly confused on who would pay for her birthday dinner– she’s convinced it must be a secret birthday gift, and you only take credit for it because you don’t want to be found out like this.

You had no idea Bucky would do that for you.

/

A few weeks later, at another session, Bucky seems easily drawn to you. More than before.

“Rebecca’s getting ready. She gets a little too dolled up nowadays– but she knows no guy is going to talk shit with her now.” Bucky admits, and you wonder where this story is going. “She can tell I’m different, she keeps asking me what’s going on.”

“You’re very free to tell her what’s going on, Mr. Barnes.”

“Yes… but…” Bucky omits the fact that Rebecca seems certain he’s into a girl. She’s always had this weird uncanny ability to tell when Bucky’s got his eyes set on someone, whether it be some random girl at the bar, or someone like you– you’re one in a million for Bucky. 

Someone he really, truly likes. 

He clears his throat– he knows it’s inappropriate, it’s wrong, but he can’t help himself. You are too sweet, too lovable and kind and intelligent in ways that he’s not entirely familiar with, so it’s entirely too easy for him to simply give in and fall for you.  

He knows the boundaries you set. Respect, professional respect for the space that you’re in. It would be especially bad because of the nature of his work– he knows that even if he could protect you, you probably don’t want to be involved in that lifestyle.

“I don’t want to break your cover, doc. It’s best if I just tell her nothing about it for now.” Bucky concludes, and you shrug at that. “Anyways– I found out that she was going to go out with Steve, that ugly ass motherfucker that I still keep around for some reason, and I just yelled at her. I thought I was over it, but I’m not.”

“Have you considered that your sister is an adult who knows what she’s getting into?” You suggest. “She might not be the one to get hurt. Perhaps she wants the same thing he does– as you’ve said before, Steve is rather good at hooking up with women and running away afterwards.”

“Yeah, yeah. He’s terrible– he loves girls and doesn’t know how to deal with it, so he’s full of commitment issues.” Bucky waves Steve’s issues aside while you are impressed at how quickly he was able to suss that out. “Rebecca is gonna be the death of me. She can live her own life, I’m not concerned about that– it’s that I know she’s doing this shit to rile me up.”

“Ah, I see.” You hum over that. “You could simply pretend not to care– many people stop those kind of actions when they see it’s not having an effect.”

“That’s true.” Bucky still shudders. “Still, if they fuck up– both of them– I will spend the rest of my life hearing their arguments.”

“Why not try to find an alternative person for Rebecca to date, then?” You think for a moment. “Or maybe she could find an actor of some sort. I don’t believe she means for this to last in a long term way.”

“Okay, that could also be true.” Bucky admits, and his eyes find yours. “Maybe I’m just looking for the worst outcome.”

Bucky seems better and better with every session– in this case it seems like his personal problems have been rectified just halfway into it– and he still spends the rest of the hour talking to you.

“You still worried about your brother’s new kid?” Bucky asks, remembering how last time he left the session he heard you yelling into your cellphone about it.

“That was a private conversation, but, uh, yes.” You decide to answer him honestly. “Yes, I am worried. My brother can sometimes be very– unemotional, detached, and it’s bad for his first child to grow up in that environment.”

“Hey, at least the kid has you. Therapist aunt– I bet you’ll help out in some ways.” Bucky points at you, and you agree with that. “Talk to your brother more. He’ll listen if he sees that you’re serious.”

You know Bucky’s right, but you have to wonder when you started taking advice from him– it’s almost as if he’s giving you little mafia tidbits, like intimidating your brother by persisting at the conversation– and you actually don’t mind it.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” You get up to bid him goodbye.

Bucky has an unreadable expression as he leaves, and he gently, but firmly, grasps your hand before going out the door, a grip that feels strangely intimate, and you’re left standing there with an urge for more, your mouth agape in a bit of shock. 

/

Bucky calls a week later sounding incredibly apologetic.

“I’m sorry, doc. I can’t make today’s session.” He sounds strangely heartbroken.

“Hey, that’s alright, Mr. Barnes. I’ll see what I can do in terms of refunding you.” You hope that’s all he called for. Recently there was something in the news about the Russian gangs of Brighton Beach having a kerfuffle with the cops– you can only assume that’s what Bucky’s gotten into, and you feel kind of guilty that you let yourself get so close to him.

“No, that’s alright. Keep the cash, I don’t mind that.” Bucky yells something incoherent, there are alarming gun-shot like sounds in the background, and then he comes back to the phone. “Listen, doc– I’m sorry, you can do without me as a patient. I don’t wanna risk anything with you, and if that means you gotta let me go, then do it.”

You are silent for a moment.

You’re hopeless, and you know it.

All it took was for Bucky to be the one who was genuinely concerned for you– for him to put you first when he’s surely in a dangerous situation right now– and you’re smiling like a damn fool, wishing that you could just let him go. You don’t want to.

You know you’re appealing to a dangerous man, but you don’t care.

“It’s okay, Mr. Barnes. Our sessions can continue.” You murmur, and Bucky laughs on the other side of the phone. 

“Alright, doc. I had a feeling you didn’t want to let go of our progress.” He states, and you wonder if he knows about your feelings for him.

He might just be thinking that you are entirely sophisticated about this whole thing. He doesn’t know that you’ve dreamed of him, silly domestic dreams where Bucky is the husband to your doting self, or ones where you tell him your fears and he listens, and vows to protect you, or extremely explicit dreams where he simply shuts you up with a kiss and spreads your legs. You do not know how to stop these– you feel that you have gained too much by liking him. It’s been a while since you’ve crushed on someone and felt that it could go somewhere.

At the very least, you do want to at least ensure his success as a patient of yours. You will get over this, it’s just that… you still have a sheepish smile even after Bucky has hung up the phone, and that’s not good.

You make a note not to go any further than this.

/ 

At your next session, Bucky is despondent, clearly not telling you something that bothers him. He spends most of the session rather upset and quiet.

“Doc, do you think I’m a good man?” He says it with not a hint of irony.

You fall quiet. You don’t know if a murderer will ever be considered a good man, and you don’t want to make that moral conclusion. You’re not a god.

“I don’t think that’s up to me, Mr. Barnes.” You start, and Bucky immediately pelts you with more questions.

“But you think I’m morally repugnant, right? That’s something I read on the news the other day.” Bucky scoffs at himself. “I can’t believe I thought I was better than that.”

“You can be, if you want to be. I’m not saying it forgives your past transgressions, but–” You fix your vision on him. “You have to make the choice to be a good man before you can ask others if you are.”

“And you think I have that potential?”

“...Yes. I’m not just saying this as your therapist, Mr. Barnes.” You swallow and then answer him honestly. “I believe if you want to be a better man, you have it in you to do so. You want the truth, right?”

Bucky nods, and leans closer in.

“Being a good man, a good person, can not be synonymous with being apart of the mafia. I’m somewhat apologetic about this, but–” You wince at your own fears at his reaction. “Eventually you would have to leave, not just to be a better man, but to be a healed person, both mentally and physically.”

“...” Bucky stares you down for a bit. 

“Okay, doc. I hear you.” He leans back in his seat, and you let go of a breath you had no idea you were holding. “I’ll try to take your advice.”

You’re not sure how much faith you can have in him. Something about the way Bucky stares at you and leaves this time, it screams control issues again– perhaps this is the last time you’d ever see him. You brace yourself for a no-show next week, and a phone call cancelling his appointments.

It saddens you– you’ll miss him.

/ 

Unfortunately for you, Bucky shows up at your next session with a bouquet of flowers. Chrysanthemums- you’re very sure Bucky has done this because of the framed photo in your office of them. He’s being a little too thoughtful, and you’re worried.

“Mr. Barnes. You’re a little early.” You start off, and sit at your chair.

“I’ve paid for the hour, don’t worry.” He grins and then approaches you, looking at the floor, your face, and then back at your desk again. He’s clearly nervous.

“Go out with me, doc.” Bucky offers, and you shake your head, just out of principle.

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I just feel that you’re desperately searching for a way to fulfill–”

“Enough of the shrink talk! Jesus Christ.” Bucky scowls, and then fixes himself, standing upright as you back up a little. “Do you have any idea how I feel? How I think about you at every second? You’re fucking up my work, too–”

“That’s not really my fault–” You try, but Bucky shushes you, walking towards you and grasping your hands so quickly that you cannot help but look up at him again. His blue eyes are squinting, peering so desperately into your own, turning grey with how serious he is.

You’re mildly frightened, but you would be lying if you said you never saw the signs of his attraction before. How his gaze lingered on you for far too long, how he would occasionally comment on your beauty, how he would constantly compliment your intelligence… you at first thought that perhaps Mr. Barnes was bad at recognizing the difference between a woman who was into him, and a woman who simply had emotional intelligence. You could blame the way that society expects women to mother their partners for that.

But lately you had been feeling something new, something you didn’t suspect would happen. And there wasn’t anything wrong with that– therapy is a personal practice after all, you can’t blame yourself for your own feelings– but you never thought he would reciprocate so clearly, holding your hand like this. He always seemed enigmatic until now, and you wish you could change things.

Even worse, you could tell he was making progress– he was really trying to be more than what he thought of himself. He could be kind, sweet even, and it’s with some embarrassment and fondness that you find yourself looking forward to his appointments. Lately you’ve caught yourself smiling about him for no reason, even though you feel this relationship– a budding one between the two of you– could change things for the worse, and you don’t want that for him.

Bucky traces your knuckles with his thumb, and he leans in towards you, whispering very, very carefully. 

“I like you. I think you’re very special in a way that cannot be found in other people. I don’t want you to be scared of me… I just want you to know that I’m interested in you.” Bucky kisses your hand, and you are drawn to a silence, unable to figure out what to say.

“Mr. Barnes–” You start, and then stop yourself. “Bucky… I don’t want to be the reason why you didn’t get better.”

“But I am better, don’t you get it? God, for a doctor, you can really be dense.” Bucky snickers and then holds your hands closer. “I like you. I think you’re wonderful. Smart, beautiful, a real challenge. I think you’re why I’m better, and not just because of therapy– Jesus, that’s fucking cheesy but it’s true– sometimes I know I can’t keep being the White Wolf, the boss of this gang, because you make me think it over, and I want to do right by you and what you’ve taught me.”

“So you’re going to remove yourself from your gang?” You ask honestly, peering up into Bucky’s eyes to see if he’s telling the truth. He looks so solemn– so sure of himself.

“I already knew that I needed to, doc. I knew it when you said that I was hurting myself by being there. Of course there are some things that I like about it–” He cuts himself off, and presses his forehead to yours, grasping your cheeks. “The gang isn’t going to survive very long, anyways. Everyone knows it can only last so long, and a lot of them are moving on into the show business.”

“I didn’t think Hollywood was so transparent on their mafia connections.” You whisper, and Bucky snickers at your response.  “But what about your heart palpitations?”

“They’ve been reduced by a lot. I used your trauma response workshopping thing and it helped me.” Bucky takes on a funny little smile. “And I think the only thing fucking up my heart now is you. I used to have it figured out, you know? But I can’t continue another day being that guy. Let me take you out, please.”

Bucky’s final plea rings through you, and you can’t find it in you to reject him this time. He’s got you wrapped around his finger– and being so candid, so honest about how he felt, really every therapist’s dream– you search his eyes and it’s no surprise when Bucky leans in to kiss you. 

Your eyes are wide open as he does, in shock, because you’re not expecting him to do this, and he moves– his hands wrap around your waist and he inhales as his tongue sweeps against your own, and you kiss back before you can tell yourself not to. 

Bucky pulls back, breathing hard, and you feel yourself turn warm at his reaction. You watch as his face comes towards yours again– you have to pull away, too.

“What is it?” Bucky sounds a little wary.

“If we continue like this– I can’t be your therapist anymore. I can’t do both things, it would unethical and hard to separate.” You swallow, and then nod. “Promise me you won’t use me for therapy anymore, Bucky.”

“I… of course, doc. I would never expect both from you.” He sounds sorry about it, at least. “I’m not trying to use you– I really, really like you.”

He hums as he leans in for another kiss and this time you let yourself have at him– why not let yourself have a little fun, right, even if it’s in your place of work– and Bucky lifts you up easily, his mouth connecting to your jaw, and then neck, before setting you down at your desk. 

“I think I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks.” He shares, and you look affronted.

“Are you telling me you weren’t focused?” You push his chest, but Bucky holds your hands back.

“Of course I was focused, I just had a different subject in mind.” Bucky brushes aside a piece of your hair. “You can’t tell me I’m the first man to have fallen for you like this– I have to think that in an enclosed space like this, most guys are checking out the pretty doctor.”

“Uh… well maybe there’s been others, but–” As you say this, Bucky’s eyes narrow a little and you remember that he is kind of the jealous type. “None of them have been as forward as you. None of them asked me out.”

“Good.” Bucky leans in and kisses you again, and you’re very glad your office door is shut and locked.

Bucky lifts you again, easily, his mouth connecting with yours and then to where your collarbone just peeks out of your top, and he sits you down on his lap on the armchair where he often states his opinions and thoughts on his life. Bucky seems to be admiring you– you can’t escape his gaze as he looks at you from side to side.

“If you’re not a mob boss anymore… all I ask is if you’re serious about this. About me?” You ask, so earnestly, that Bucky has to feel some crushing regret about how he never quite told you the truth.

“I never… I never did all that stuff with girls. It was a front, you know, it is a front for a lot of gang members. They gotta show that they’re desirable.” Bucky shakes his head. “But I was more focused on, uh… cleaning up ‘stains’, talking to ‘coworkers’, you feel me? I was addicted to that violent, electric feeling. Never again, though.”

“Okay. I trust you.” You’re not sure why you believe him so strongly, but you do, and even if every red flag in your therapist knowledge is currently being raised right now (trauma bonding, love bombing, manipulation, the list goes on and on)– you think he’s being honest. You do believe based on everything Bucky has told you previously, that he doesn’t mess around with girls, and he is trying to leave behind his lifestyle. You can even see it in his latest heart analysis results, as his physician showed you recently.

You’re so grateful that you helped him in this way. That you got him to reach his fullest potential. And a little evil, selfish part of you likes that he chose you, too, as he leans in and kisses you again.

[barnesboo1967]

We, as a socity, need more famous bucky barnes, cowboy bucky barnes, and mafia bucky barnes. Some with smut, some with angst, and some with fluff

Trust me guys I know what is best.