Born In Flames || Chapter One

oh so when wanda maximoff creates an alternate universe to deal with all of her trauma she's "super impressive" and "the most powerful person in the mcu" but when i do it i'm "using unhealthy coping mechanisms" and "should go to therapy" smh so tired of these double standards

Born In Flames || Chapter Four

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Being the daughter of a mafia boss was hard enough growing up. You got out and made a new life for yourself as a bartender only to be sucked in when your old man made a bad deal and he thinks you need protection. Enter Bucky Barnes, your new bodyguard and roommate.

Warnings: minor character death, mentions of guns, human trafficking, drugs, and blood.

Word Count: 2,653

Authors Notes: Kinda curious to see what you guys think of this one! If you want to be tagged, send a message or ask or else it will probably be ignored.

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A week had gone by since that fateful shooting. Every little sound had started to rattle you when you were at home. Work was the only place you were distracted enough, but it did take a couple of days. You had given Bucky a couple of long sleeved tees that had the bar’s logo on them and told him to change, considering he was the only one in the bar looking less like a drinker and more like a mobster. Your boss came to understand why he was there and allowed it, even throwing some food his way while Bucky waited for your shift to end.

The morning after the shooting, you found your car missing. You were just about to head back inside and cry into your pillow before Bucky grabbed your hand and led you to a sleek black car. He reassured you that your car was being taken care of and that this one would get the two of you around. You took his word for it, even letting him drive.

The relationship between you two was slowly leaving the side of hatred and more of just convenience. Bucky was pretty understanding about you wanting to keep up with talking to Miss Liz, but he kept a close eye. If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn Liz was trying to flirt with him. It was cute, actually. You often found yourself out in the living room earlier than usual, due to the nightmares. Bucky would check in and softly push you awake, but would leave once you were awake. He knew what it was like to have nightmares every night. It wasn’t just about being in combat or losing his arm. Being in the mafia had its disadvantages, one being that he saw the face of his victims every time he closed his eyes. His were less screaming and crying and more sweating and mumbling.

He had decided to wear tees around the apartment, trying to show that he was making a step to be more comfortable around you. You didn’t hide that you hated the suit and ties, but you also didn’t force him to show the arm. He did that on his own.

Currently the two of you were sitting in the living room. Bucky was looking over the cameras through his phone that were placed around the street by some of your fathers men while you worked on your laptop. It was another day off and you were a bit too scared to try going out and shopping again, so you had things delivered instead.

Bucky’s phone started to go off and he answered it. “Boss.”

Oh great, it’s dad.

He was quiet for a moment, though you couldn’t quite make out what was being said on the other side. He glanced over to you and said a soft “we’ll be there” before hanging up.

“We?” You leaned up in your seat, setting the laptop down.

“Looks like they may have caught those men who shot at us,” Bucky stood and slid the phone in his pocket. “He wants us to go to the warehouse so you can identify them. Guess the guy is saying it wasn’t him,” he muttered and rolled his eyes.

You brought your hand up to your ear, fingers brushing over the scabbed over wound. It wasn’t as painful anymore. But then it hit you, the warehouse.

“Are you serious? I’ve never been allowed in there. I don’t even think my mom was,” you frowned, looking over at him.

Bucky shrugged. “That’s what he said. I don’t think he’ll have you stay for the aftermath. We just need to make sure it was really him. You did get a good look, right?”

You nodded gently, unable to forget the faces of the men. “They only got one?”

“For now,” Bucky walked past you and headed into his room to change.

It seemed you probably should do the same.

You went simple, just a pair of black jeans and a tank. Much different than the outfit you last saw your father in. You pulled your hair up into a ponytail just in case another shootout happened. Hair flying in your face was not so fun last time.

Bucky could feel the anxiety radiating off you the whole drive. He let you pick the music and watched as you slid down lower in your seat. Had one near death experience really caused you to be this scared? You kept asking yourself that.

The anxiety didn’t go away as Bucky pulled up to the warehouse half an hour later. It was in an industrial area, one with quite a few abandoned buildings. This one you knew was used for…less than savory things. A lot of blood had been spilt inside. You remember seeing someone hobbling out with his face beaten in when you were about ten. That was the first time you knew something was up.

“You ready?” Bucky asked softly, worried about your state of mind as you stared at the building in front of you.

“Do I have a choice?” You retorted, though you sighed. “Sorry I just…yeah. I’m ready,” you muttered and got out of the car.

Bucky led you inside and immediately the smell of iron hit you. Years of blood without being properly sanitized. No wonder you were never allowed in it. You stayed close to Bucky, your hand brushing along his gloved one. He didn’t mind, as long as you were able to help now.

Pushing a door open, you froze when you saw the scene before you.

Your father sat in one chair, looking as much of a mafia boss as ever. About ten feet from him sat a man tied to a chair, head lulled to the side. One of the men standing had his jacket off and sleeved rolled up, blood trickling down his knuckles from punching the other guy.

“Ah, good. You’re here. Dear, can you tell me if this was the guy?” Your father asked.

Frowning, you slowly walked in and kept your distance from the man bleeding in the chair. He coughed before leaning his head up and that’s when you sighed.

“Yeah, it’s him. He was with another guy. Bald, bigger nose, sort of looked like a taller Danny Devito,” you spoke, crossing your arms.

Bucky left your side and walked beside the bleeding man in the chair. Squatting down for a moment, he moved the guys tied up hands before standing.

“It’s him. I got a good shot on his hand and that’s what made them retreat I think,” Bucky walked back over to stand by your side. “Pierce’s guy?”

Your father nodded, his own arms crossed as he stayed in the chair. “Believe so. Just need to figure out why they’re targeting you unless it’s just to get to me,” he looked over at you and you rolled your eyes slightly but said nothing.

“I won’t tell you shit,” the bloodied man finally spoke, groaning when another punch was landed. “You should kill me now, but there will be more. There will always be more. We’ll get that little whore just like we did her mother,” he yelped when a second punch was thrown.

Your eyes widened, though you knew it couldn’t have been true. It was cancer. You knew it was. You saw how sick she had gotten in the end. Looking back to your father, Michael nodded at the man and immediately a gun was pulled out and he shot the man point blank.

You yelped and turned away, covering your mouth.

Now you wished you had never stepped foot in the warehouse. Bucky groaned and wrapped an arm around you, leading you out. He wanted to yell at Michael, to tell him that he had just traumatized you once again, but he couldn’t exactly fight his boss. So he decided to move you away instead. You let him lead you out to the car, but once you were inside, the flood gates opened and Bucky was left with a terrified version of you that he only saw briefly before.

Getting in the driver's seat, he waited to turn the car on. “I wish he hadn’t done that,” he whispered, glancing over to you.

You wiped at your eyes, trying to catch your breath. “This is…why I wanted out. Couldn’t he have waited until I was gone!?” You gasped, but it wasn’t working.

Bucky frowned and leaned over the console of the car. He took your face in his hands, being gentle but also demanding. “Look at me. Hey, right here,” he pointed at his own eyes, waiting until you met them. He kept the hold on your face as he spoke. “It was better him than you. It’s going to be okay. It’s…not easy to see whether it’s the first one or the hundredth. I know this because I still see them all. Just…try to breathe,” he spoke. He took deep breaths as you followed, doing it until your tears had stopped and you were able to stop shaking.

“What did he mean…about my mom?” You muttered, watching as Bucky’s hands left your face.

“I don’t know. I swear I don’t,” he shook his head, equally as confused as you were. He didn’t know what it meant and he needed to find out.

“Promise me, you’ll tell me if you find something out?” You looked at him with pleading eyes.

Bucky took your hand and squeezed it softly. “I promise.”

Three hours later, Bucky found you sitting in the living room on the floor with a bunch of photo albums beside you.

Birthdays, vacations, school photos. Scrapbooks both you and your mother had made over the years. Scrapbooks that seemed to mainly include you and her, with rare appearances from your father.

Bucky took a seat beside you with a raised eyebrow. “What’s this?” He asked, leaning to the side a little.

“My second birthday. Complete with a Little Mermaid cake. Of course dad isn’t in these either,” you muttered, scooting closer for him to see.

Photos of you smashing a little cake with your face, white icing and chocolate cake smushed in every crevice. You looked happy, carefree, ready to take on the cake and the world.

“I take it your dad wasn’t around for big things?” Bucky asked, surprised a father wouldn’t even be there for his kid’s birthday.

“Not often. Sometimes. He came to my graduation and some early birthday parties but that’s about it. Hell, I couldn’t even get him to a choir show when I was in middle school. Mom was my biggest supporter,” you ran your fingers over a photo of your icing handprint on her cheek, smiling at the camera. “She made sure everything was okay.”

Bucky smiled but then furrowed his brow. “Can I?” He asked, holding his hand out.

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded and handed him the scrapbook.

“You said your second birthday? Do you have any from your first?” He asked, making you wonder.

“No, I’m not sure why but I don’t have any from then. I have a couple baby pictures but not many actually. Why?” You asked, tilting your head.

Ever so carefully, Bucky pulled one photo out of the slot and looked at it closer. “Do you know this man?” He asked, pointing to a guy in the background.

“No, not that I can remember,” you shrugged.

Bucky pulled out another, pointing to him again. This time his arms were around your mother.

You took the photo and tilted your head. How did you not see that before? You were in the forefront, face clean and opening a gift. In the back, you mom looked to be cuddling with another guy.

“Yeah, I have no clue who that is,” you handed it back.

“That would be the boss of the man that was just killed holding your mom like they were together.”

Your eyes stared at Bucky for a few moments before you were able to find words.

“I’m sorry, what?” You took the photo back and looked it over again.

“Alexander Pierce. He’s another mafia boss that had his hands dipped in a little of everything. Guns, drugs, even illegal animal trading. Pretty sure he’s been involved in human trafficking too but we haven’t been able to find enough evidence. What I want to know is why your mom was cozying up to this guy,” Bucky explained. Setting the photo to the side, he began to look through the rest of the photos.

You sat quiet beside him. Your parents didn’t have a pristine relationship by any means but you could never remember a time where they broke up. And your mom was never the type to cheat no matter how bad things got. She was loyal and kind.

You leaned against Bucky’s arm as he looked, trying to piece things together in your mind. You heard Alexander’s name over the years but it was more about business. Your father having a meeting with him or the two of them making a deal. You weren’t exactly invited into the meetings themselves, nor do you ever remember meeting the guy in person.

Bucky tried to find more photos of him but it seemed those were the only two. Closing the book, he looked down at you with a soft sigh. “Can I do some digging? This is bugging me and I feel like you should know why,” he offered.

You hesitated. Did you want to know? Not exactly, not if it involved a man who did all of those terrible things, but you did want to know why the man talked about killing you like they did your mom.

“You can use my computer in your room, if you want. These are all of the scrapbooks I have though,” you moved the other five in front of him.

Bucky nodded and got up, helping you to your feet. “Do you want to stick around and help?”

You knew it wasn’t a good idea but it was better than sitting in front of the television, failing to distract yourself.

“C’mon,” you muttered, picking up the scrapbooks and following him into the room.

Bucky hadn’t done much with it. He hung up his more important suits while the rest of his items sat neatly in his bag. The dirty clothes were in a hamper you gave him to use. He really didn’t make a dent in showing he was there. Bucky took a seat in the chair as you sat cross legged on his bed.

“Do you have any theories?” You asked as you opened up another book, though this time you paid more attention to the details in the back.

“Not quite. Unless they caused your mother to get sick, but I still need to figure out why. Even if Pierce and Michael had a fallout of some kind, there would be no reason to hurt her and then wait all this time for you. It’s not as if you’ve made yourself completely invisible with the bartending and social media profiles. They obviously knew you were here if they sent him those photos. Keep looking through those for anything, even if you think it’s nothing.”

And that’s how the two of you were for the majority of the night. Bucky had his ways of scouring the Internet, but things kept popping up empty. You had shown him multiple photos but nothing ever clicked for him.

It was about 10:45pm when Bucky leaned back and frowned. “What was your mother’s maiden name again?”

“Hartley,” you looked up at him, having taken his pillows and put them beside you while you leaned back against the wall.

Bucky pushed the chair away from the computer.

A photo of a young Charlotte and Alexander sat on the screen.

A marriage announcement from two years before you were born.

Tag list: @crownstealer @borikenlove @bitchassbucky @babyboibucky @buckybarneschokeme @buckys-blue-eyes @vanillanaps @bibbidibobbidibucky @spicynudlesoup @bemine-bucky @suchababie @kaaabiii @rebekahdawkins @sebsbrokentoe @marvel-3407 @acmbooksandfilm @stucky-my-ship @boofy1998 @valsworldofcreativity @yaszx

Born In Flames || Chapter Eight

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Being the daughter of a mafia boss was hard enough growing up. You got out and made a new life for yourself as a bartender only to be sucked in when your old man made a bad deal and he thinks you need protection. Enter Bucky Barnes, your new bodyguard and roommate.

Warnings: Nightmares, (mentions of kidnapping, non-con, death, abuse), reader is v lost and sad

Word Count: 2.6K

Authors Note: I know this is a bit shorter than the last few but it’s sort of a filler chapter. Next one will set place a month in the future!

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Bucky woke to the sound of screaming beside him. Quickly he shot up, looking around in his tired state before he realized it was your thrashing body beside him. Turning towards you, he gently shook your shoulder and called out your name. It took a minute before your eyes flew open and you jerked away from him.

Quick breaths left your lips as you stared up at the man before your brain started to wake a bit more. “Bucky…” you whispered, eyes full of tears from what you just saw behind your lids. Covering your face, you started to sob. In your dream, you were fighting against the men that held you down. And as you woke up, you pushed the only man away who was trying to help.

“I’m so sorry,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath.

It broke Bucky’s heart. Slowly he leaned back down to lay on his side, pulling you closer against him. “Shh, don’t apologize. It’ll take more than a push to hurt me. I’m here, you’re home, they’re gone,” he soothed, using one hand to pull your own hands from your face. To see you go from a woman who stood up for herself and fought against having a bodyguard whittled down to a scared soul fighting just for one good night of sleep made Bucky want to kill those men all over again if it brought you peace. He pressed soft kisses against your forehead and cheek, trying to calm you down. Eventually you did, clinging to him as if he was going to disappear.

Even though your tears stopped, that’s how you laid until late morning. You started to doze off in his arms as he ended up falling asleep, but your mind would jerk itself awake. Was this how you had to live from now on? Afraid to even shut your eyes for a single moment?

The sun started to show through the curtains and you buried your face against Bucky’s chest. You could hear his phone ringing from the other room where you left his jacket that night, but that only meant you had to get up. Bucky slowly opened his eyes and glanced down, feeling you move closer. He hadn’t been able to sleep too deeply, but just enough. Brushing your hair back from your face, Bucky sighed the moment he heard his phone.

“That’s probably Michael,” he muttered.

“Wait, did he know you were going last night?” you asked, leaning your head up and looking into his sleepy eyes. He could tell that you hadn’t fallen back asleep since the nightmare even though it had been hours ago.

Bucky shook his head and sighed, moving to lay on his back as he pulled you to his side. “After we got the video, I left. Came back here for a couple hours but then…” he trailed off since you already knew what went down.

“He’s gonna be mad,” you frowned, your hand resting on his chest.

“Let’s see,” he slowly sat up, looking down at you. “C’mon, I’m gonna make you some food.”

You nodded, slowly sliding out of bed as he got up. Your body felt like it was on fire. Everything ached but it was a feeling you had unfortunately gotten all too used to over the past few months. Bucky walked out first, his phone going to voicemail only for it to start ringing again. You were slower, pulling on a pair of sweatpants since the chill of your room finally hit now that you weren’t under your blanket and against a personal heater. You caught the slightest glimpse of yourself in the mirror over your dresser and shuddered. The skin around your eye was dark purple and you had dark bruises as well as lighter ones around your cheeks. Quickly you looked away and left the bedroom just as Bucky answered his phone.

“Boss-” Bucky started to speak but was interrupted by yelling which you could hear as you walked closer. Sighing, he started to make a pot of coffee while you took a seat at the table. You knew Michael was mad, you heard that tone all too often growing up. Bucky kept his back to you as he pulled out two mugs. He seemed to know your home like the back of his hand now, but you didn’t mind. He didn’t try to speak or cut off Michael, understanding the anger. It was warranted, though it sounded like Michael didn’t even know the outcome of last night. He ranted about Pierce having gone missing and that he knew Bucky had something to do with it.

Standing, you walked over and took the phone from Bucky. He furrowed his brow and shook his head, but you just leaned back against the counter. “Dad.”

Bucky widened his eyes as Michael quickly found his own silence for a moment. Neither was expecting you to say that, nor was Michael expecting to hear you at all.

“Sweetheart? How did you…” Michael sounded shocked, immediately softening his demeanor.

“Bucky saved me. So please...stop yelling at him. We’ll be at your office later, I promise,” you said, leaning to the side against Bucky’s arm. “I’m okay.”

Michael sighed and you could hear him relaxing a bit more knowing that you weren’t dead. “Alright, just be careful. Tell him…I’m sorry for yelling.”

That was a first. But you told him you would and ended the call, setting the phone on the counter. Bucky pressed a kiss to the top of your head before you walked back over to the table to take a seat. Your legs still felt wobbly and you didn’t exactly have much muscle anymore. You didn’t get to take walks or go do things while in the cabin. You tried to make yourself useful there by cleaning up around the place. It distracted you for a little bit.

Both of you were quiet as Bucky started cooking. You had gotten so used to the hunger pains that smelling food didn’t affect it much. It had become second nature, like cramps from your period. Which you were still thankful you were getting yours, meaning you weren’t pregnant. But you did want to go to the doctors at some point to get tested for any STD’s and make sure you weren’t totally messed up. Bucky had turned on something from Spotify, light music so it wasn’t deathly quiet. You watched him, noticing the clean counters and how he must have tossed all of the trash away while you were busy showering or in bed.

After about fifteen minutes, Bucky set a plate with two eggs and a couple pieces of toast down in front of you. “If you still want more after, just let me know okay? I just don’t want to upset your stomach too much,” he said as he sat his own plate down. He walked over to grab both coffees, setting one in front of you and one in front of him before sitting down.

You took slow bites, one arm wrapped around your torso as you glanced outside. Everything was covered in snow, showing that it must have come down a bit more within the last few hours. Bucky kept an eye on you. Never had he imagined he would fall for you, the independent woman who he was just supposed to watch over, but there he was. He wanted to make sure you never ached again.

Being home was a funny feeling. On one hand, you felt safe. You felt like you could sit inside and not worry about being taken again. But on the other hand, your body had become so used to being cramped in a small space, not having any decisions, not feeling free. It was hard to explain, but you just felt…off.

You must have been staring outside for too long because Bucky rested his hand on yours, causing you to jump slightly as your fork clattered to the plate.

“Shit, sorry,” you muttered with a sigh.

Bucky’s eyes softened and caressed your skin. “It’s okay,” he nodded.

You tried to eat a bit quicker after that, not wanting to lose yourself in your head and forget about the food altogether. Cold eggs didn’t sound that great.

Once the food was gone and you were sure you would be able to keep it down, you decided it was better to go now instead of putting off the inevitable. Bucky offered to clean up while you got ready. Heading back into your room, you changed into some leggings since your jeans seemed to practically slide off you. Had you really lost that much weight? It saddened you, since prior to everything you loved your body. You opted for a hoodie as well. Next…you had to do something with your face. Thankfully there was some sun outside so you could wear sunglasses but the rest of the bruises needed to be covered.

After two breakdowns and almost breaking your mirror, you managed to get through it. You brushed through your hair and pulled your hood up, leaving your room. Bucky had changed quicker and sat on the couch waiting for you to finish. Glancing over, he gave you a soft smile and stood. Reaching out for your hand, you took his and let him lead you out of the apartment.

You didn’t realize every sound would put you on edge until you got to the car and finally took a deep breath.

Life really wasn’t going to be easy now, was it?

Bucky headed towards the office as you stared ahead, just trying to remind yourself that Pierce was dead. He couldn't hurt you anymore. As far as you knew, he didn't have any other children and couldn’t remarry due to still being married to your mother despite her death. You felt sick but the only solace you found in the whole ordeal was the thought of Pierce’s lifeless body on the floor in front of you. His men had no one to answer to so they wouldn’t come for you, or at least you hoped. The drive to the office was a bit quicker than you expected, but you had gotten lost in your head again and Bucky parking pulled you from it.

Stepping out, you took Bucky’s hand and walked beside him as you entered the building. The moment you stepped inside, everyone quieted down and stared at you. You kept your hood up and looked forward, the sunglasses still on your face. Bucky knocked on the door and you heard Michael on the other side. Walking in, the door closed behind you both and you looked at the old man behind the desk. He looked tired, more than you’ve ever seen. He had stacks of papers on his desk from signing over his businesses and deals, now which he got to keep and possibly more. He stood when he saw you, frowning deeply. You pulled off the sunglasses and he couldn’t help the tears that started to form in his eyes. Stepping over, you wrapped your arms around him and began to cry. He was willing to sign over his whole life just to make sure you came home, the whole life he worked hard to get, the life that kept him from you and your mother for years. Despite his asshole ways, you knew he felt the guilt. You could feel it in the hug he gave you back. You didn’t even have to speak to tell him that you forgave him for everything in the past. That you were sorry for the way you acted.

The hug lasted a couple of minutes before you pulled back and gently wiped at your eyes with your sleeve. Then the inevitable question was asked. “What happened?”

So you told him everything, though you didn’t go into detail about the rape, he understood what you meant when you alluded to it. You told him everything you heard, everything you saw. It wasn’t too much, but it was just enough that he linked a few things together. Bucky held your hand as you spoke, a touch you were thankful for. You never wanted to be dependent on anyone, but you definitely felt yourself slipping into the habit of seeking out his touch. Michael didn’t even bat an eye at it, already knowing what Bucky felt for you.

“So what happens now? Pierce is dead and so are some of his men. I’m sure people are going to be looking for the person that did it and with everything of yours being signed over…” you asked, glancing at the stack of papers.

Michael shrugged softly. “I have to figure that out. These will be shred and burned so it doesn’t come back to us. Thankfully he wasn’t able to quite get everything yet. But…” Michael paused, looking at you as you gave him a confused expression. “Your mother told me that he made a will after you were born. Now I’m not sure if he changed it over the years, but I doubt it. Charlotte said that in the event of both of them dying, everything went to you. The money, cars, house, the business. And I can’t imagine him trying to change it if he was going to kill you like he planned on. If it is real, you could end up getting everything.”

You sat there dumbfounded for a few moments. Sure, you never had to worry about money growing up, but it was never really yours until you got away from the mafia business and into your own life. But Pierce had been loaded. You already saw that by the car Bucky rolled up in at the cabin and the house the two of you dropped it back off at before leaving.

“I don’t want it,” you shook your head.

Michael raised his eyebrows, leaning forward as his arms rested against his desk. “Y/N, that is a lot of money. You could do anything you wanted with it. You said you wanted to move out of state, right? With that money, you could probably even leave the country and travel.”

You pondered on it. He had a point. “Okay, say this is real and he didn’t change it. How would they know where to find me? And I hope you know I’ll be giving you the actual business. I don’t want anything to do with that. I’ll take the money as payment for the trauma and shit I have to deal with now,” you muttered.

“I have cops on my payroll. Most likely this will go through them and I can direct them to get a hold of you. I don’t mind taking over the other things. I’ll even make sure you get payments from it all as well. But until we know what will happen for sure, just lay low. I’ll handle it all for now and keep you two updated when I hear anything. This...is all new to me too so I wish I had more answers,” Michael explained. You had no intention of going out especially when you looked like this. The last thing you wanted was Bucky to be accused of beating you. Usually that’s where blame was held for these things.

You nodded in agreement, sighing. There may just be a light at the end of the tunnel after all. But right now it was just a speck, a little shiny glimmer.

After a bit more talking and catching up, both you and Bucky left and headed back to your place. Now you needed to just find yourself again.

Tag List: @crownstealer @borikenlove @bitchassbucky @babyboibucky @buckybarneschokeme @buckys-blue-eyes @vanillanaps @bibbidibobbidibucky @spicynudlesoup @bemine-bucky @suchababie @kaaabiii @rebekahdawkins @sebsbrokentoe @marvel-3407 @acmbooksandfilm @stucky-my-ship @boofy1998 @valsworldofcreativity @yaszx @21st-century-daydreamer @doll1917 @luxeavenger @hallecarey1 @booktease21 @supernatural-love14 @bookstan0618 @pastamomma @broadwaybabe18 @mybuck

Olly, Olly, Oxen Free {Hotch x daughter!reader}

Warnings: PLEASE, be advised of the SEVERE mentions of gun violence, murder, death, etc. This is a heavy piece, so please, please, please, do not put yourself at risk to read this, if you would like to know the plot without reading let me know and I will accommodate as best as I can!

This is set in “100″, so, daughter!reader is currently trapped with foyet in her childhood home. Alright, enjoy. 

“Y/N.”

You sprung from your place on the floor, watching your brother retreat past the living room, his feet happily climbing the old route he used to take in the childhood home he was raised in. You  doubted he forgot it so soon, even with his young age. This was the house they had made home. Over the last year, you would’ve done anything to be back in this house, surrounded by the memories of your past life. The life in which you weren’t forced into the witness protection program, abandoning all of your friends due to a serial killer hellbent on destroying your father’s life.

Your hand reached out, gently grabbing the cellphone extending from the hands of your mother’s.

“Dad.”

You forced herself to sound calm, composed. Sitting only ten feet from you was a man who had previously shoved a blade into your father’s abdomen just to prove a point. You figured seeming weak wasn’t particularly a good idea.

There was the hum of an engine, one that you knew well. When you was younger- much younger- you used to wait up for you father to come home from cases. Most nights you fell asleep before he came back, but on the rare occasion you actually made it past midnight, you could hear that very same hum of his government issued SUV pulling into the driveway, subsequently causing you to dart out of  bed to jump into his waiting arms. It never mattered to you that you would receive a scolding from your mother for not going to bed at a proper time, not when you would see the smile that grew on her father’s face when you accomplished your goal.

That smile, so rare and so blinding, hardly even captured in pictures. Your father was a tired man, a hardworking man, a dedicated father, but all of his good qualities had hardened into stone from the heat of his job and sometimes you feared that eventually, even you might not be able to crack that tough exterior. It seemed silly, sure, but your mother used to be able to find the chinks in his armor, used to make him laugh and smile and love and then one day she couldn’t and who was to say that it wouldn’t happen to you too?

“Y/N/N, I love you, you know that?” He used the nickname Jack had accidentally given you. When he was just learning to talk, the boy was unable to fully pronounce your name and you had been stuck with it ever since. You used to hate it- or, at least pretend to, but you could never yell at Jack. The boy was too good at absolutely melting you.

Your father’s voice, which was typically strong and gruff, came out a bit cracked. It filled you with a sinking feeling. If your father wasn’t composed then how the hell were you supposed to be?

The man who hoisted you on his shoulders every Fourth of July to see the fireworks better, or grabbed every spider that made you scream for your life. The man who taught you how to swing a baseball bat and then immediately yelled because you whacked him right in the knee. A fearless, strong, admittedly taciturn man that was making abundantly clear the ambiguity of your future.

You swallowed down that fear, you couldn’t afford to be afraid right now. Y/E/C  eyes looked up to your mother. She was still beside you, looking at her daughter as if trying to engrain every single facet of your face in her mind, burning the image of her daughter into her memory.

“I know, I love you too.” You didn’t know how you managed to keep your voice so even but to anyone listening it sounded like a normal conversation. She could almost imagine they were sitting at a dinner table (something they hadn’t done in a year because of the Witness Protection Program).

Pass the salt. She would’ve said.

“I need you to listen to me carefully, Bug.” If you hadn’t been so worried that you might die soon you might’ve found yourself scolding the man not to use that nickname anymore. After your friends had slept over in seventh grade and heard your father use it you were teased relentlessly, but now you didn’t mind it. You didn’t mind your father using a nickname you hated. You didn’t mind a lot of things now that you were facing death, serial killer breathing the same air as you and your mother, standing in your living room, staring at you with cold, calculating eyes.  

It’s funny how little things matter when death enters the picture.

“Remember when I taught you to drive?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you glanced to your mother, trying to keep your face void of emotion.

You hadn’t learned to drive. You had begged your father, of course, but he had said no. You remembered the fight that had ensued, his words loud just to overpower your teenaged protests. “There’s no use learning to drive when your mother’s here, sometimes me, and the metro, it’s useless. It would do you better to learn something more useful, like shooting a gun.”

Oh.

The sinking feeling returned in the pit of your stomach. Or maybe it just never left. Your eyes hardened with resolve over what you knew her father was asking you to do, and you nodded.

“Yeah.”

A tiny breath of air left your parted lips, and even with the confusion laced on her mother’s features and the amusement playing on Foyet’s, your mind cleared a bit.

Frontside. Trigger press. Follow through.

“I’m a terrible driver.” You murmured to her father. Your hand began to sweat at what he was asking of you. You recalled the shooting lessons. It had been a year or so ago, the man wanting you to be prepared for anything and then he had been shot and you hadn’t seen him since. Even with the little practice, you hadn’t been too bad, but this was nothing like the shooting range. This was pointing a gun at a killer and hoping to anything that was good and holy that you didn’t miss. Even so, who said you could get to the gun before Foyet got to you?

“You’re good enough.”

Good enough. You wanted to scream.

Foyet rose from his spot on the floor, and Haley stiffened in her place.

“I think that’s good enough, right, Y/N?” The way he moved, eyes trained onto you, alight with a kind of…mischief? Yes, mischief. Like an adolescent boy who just found his father’s stash of fireworks. His body moved like a predator. Refined, sophisticated, and calculated.

And, as he moved closer, you could smell him. He didn’t smell like you thought a killer would smell. Though, to be fair, you hadn’t ever given much thought to the scent of a killer. Maybe you thought that someone capable of such dirty, heinous crimes would smell as such. Like the rotten core would seep through their pores and become a putrid scent recognizable to those surrounding him. Instead, he smelt clean. Like laundry detergent and freshly washed hair. The hand that didn’t hold the gun reached up, taking a strand of your hair into his fingers and running it through them deftly.

“Don’t touch me.” You pushed him back on instinct and, not seeming to expect such force, the man was shoved back two steps. Rather than cocking the gun right then and there, Foyet looked at you with interest and then, he did something you didn’t expect. He smiled.

A laugh fell through his lips. It bubbled and boiled and hit your ears like nails on a chalkboard.

“Wow, you’ve got a feisty one, Aaron. I think she gets that from you, the old ball and chain over here is a bit of a whiner.” He chuckled to himself like he said the world’s funniest joke, and you glared.

“Leave them alone.” Your father may as well have been on mute because the killer paid no mind to his orders.

He breathed in a deep sigh, looking at you with those same bright, calculated eyes. Then, as if coming to a consensus, tilted his head. “How about this, how about you go hide, I’ll give you a head start, and then I’ll come find you.”

You could feel her mother bristle from beside you, quiet whimpers coming from her mouth. The hum of the engine played in the background, and the wind chimes on the front porch sang a tune with the breeze. “No.” You said firmly.

Foyet pouted, going to stand closer to the two. With each step he took closer to the two of you, it felt like a nail going into her coffin. You could see the twitch in his hands, as if itching to plunge a blade into your mother’s flesh, yet, you couldn’t just leave your mother. You couldn’t leave her to die.

“Ah, come on. You’re a teenager- a teenage girl, no less, aren’t you guys supposed to be fun?” His tone was teasing and coupled with his non-imposing figure, he shouldn’t have been able to chill you with his words but the way his eyes bored into yours they did.

You felt a hand on your elbow, a nudge and you glanced back to your mother. Haley was smaller than you, it had been that way for about a year or so now. You had hit a growth spurt once you entered high school, inheriting your father’s height, and it caused you to be a couple inches taller than your mother. Her eyes were filled with tears that were streaming down her face without care. You had seen her mother cry more than most daughters should.

Haley liked to cry at night, after putting her children to bed. She didn’t think about how often you stayed up, listening to the sobbing on the other side of the wall.

A hand cupped your face, and you leaned into the warmth. How many fights had you two gotten in over the past year? You had always been a daddy’s girl. He was never home, and it left your mother to be the ‘bad guy’ in most situations. And then, you all had been forced to pack up your lives and vanish. That year had been filled with nights of yelling at each other. Fights about small things. Like, your music playing too loud, or drinking too much coffee. And big stuff too. Like, you confronting your mother about having an affair.

Your relationship had been rocky. But, she was still your mother. She still reminded you to wear a coat when it was cold out, or washed your sheets when you felt sick. She made your favorite meals when you were sad, and bought  nail polish that she thought you would like. She was your mother, and you didn’t think you would ever be able to ignore that.

“Y/N, go.” Her words were stern, and it reminded you of a scolding. But your mother’s lips were tugging at the corners, and she was caressing your cheek so softly that you thought you would collapse right there. Your heart clenched at the sight of your mother.

Would this be the last time you saw her? The thought made you want to scream, cry, and punch something all at once.

For the first time that afternoon, you let your mask slip. Your eyes welled with tears, lip trembling. “Mom, no.” it came out shaky, and you didn’t have to turn around to see Foyet smiling at the way he could make an entire family fear for their lives in a mere couple of minutes. You could simply feel it.

Haley nodded, both her hands cupping your face now, scanning it over and over again. Your eyes, a fierceness to them that mimicked her own. A button nose that sat above rosy pink lips. On your chin, a small scar. You were an adventurous child. You hadn’t been afraid to climb the monkey bars despite being far too small for them and when you had fallen off, you had busted the skin open. Haley remembered being panicked, seeing you covered in blood, rushing you to the hospital, to find that you were calmer than she was. That’s how you always were. You were never scared. You were brave and fearless and kind and even if you played awful, punk alternative music that made Haley’s ears want to bleed, you were such a sweet girl with a big heart. The mother stood on her tiptoes, kissing your forehead.

You let your eyes flutter shut for a moment, trying to burn the memory of her mother’s lips on your forehead in your mind. And when you opened them again, you tried to burn the image of your mother as well. Even now, red eyed and sniffling, your mother was beautiful. Everyone always told you, you looked just like your mother. Haley used to have blonde hair. It had passed her shoulders and you used to beg her to play hair salon because of it. She had cut it after the divorce and you had a suspicion that it was because she craved change. Her cheekbones were high and sharp, just like yours. It made her skin pull taut when she smiled. Her nose was soft and dainty- something you had always been jealous of.

What if you never saw your mother smile again?

Haley was nodding, nodding and patting the girl’s cheek and it took you a moment to realize she was speaking once more. “Go, baby. I’ll be okay.”

No, you won’t. You wanted to say. You wanted to let your body fall into your mother’s arms and have the woman hold you like she did when you were a child. You wanted to feel your mother’s hands run through your hair and hear the woman sing you to sleep. You didn’t care how childish it seemed, you just wanted your mother.

Your shoulders shook and you fought to keep your emotions from consuming you.

“I- I love you.” It was a desperate attempt at closure but it did nothing to make you feel better. It only made your mother smile.

“I love you too.” Haley gave one final pat before a light shove and you felt numb. You couldn’t feel yourself hand the phone to your mother, nor could you feel your feet move in the desired direction. Everything in you felt like it was simultaneously being doused in cold water and burned in hot flames. Your mind kept screaming at you to go back. Turn around, grab your mother and hope for the best but you could hear Foyet talking with your mother now and she knew that your father had told you what to do next.

It was weird.

All the nights you had spent in that stupid witness protection program, closing your eyes imagining you were back in your childhood home. You would pretend you were back in your room, waiting for your father to come home. You would pretend your mother was putting Jack to sleep and you would pretend that everything was normal. Now you were back and everything was wrong.

Focus.

After teaching you how to properly use a gun, Aaron had told you where one could be found in cases of dire emergencies. Your feet stepped lightly, moving as swiftly as you could. The laces on your converse slapped against the sides of the shoes and you silently pulled open your father’s nightstand. It hadn’t been touched since you all had moved out.  It was normal upon first glance. A couple of papers, reading glasses, sleeping pills. You knew better.

You pulled at the string on the bottom, the false top giving in immediately and revealing the silver .38. You grabbed for it, cocking it as quietly as you could. The weapon was heavy, yet, familiar in your hand. You thought that in a time like this you would be more shaky, but all you could focus on was your mother’s quiet sobs from the living room a whole story down.

The sound gave you hope. If she could cry, then she was alive. You pushed on with that thought in mind, rounding the corner. Just before you could head back downstairs and possibly take down Foyet, you heard it.

Gunshots.

Your mother cried out the first time, but it was completely silent after the second two. Just the light thud of a body hitting the floor.

You bit down on your cheek to keep herself from screaming. The taste of blood followed soon after. Your hand rose to your mouth, attempting to muffle the cries that attempted to escape.

“Y/N!” A sing song-y voice called out. There was a thumping sound on the stairs and after a sickening moment, you realized it was the sound of your mother’s body hitting the wood. He was dragging her up the stairs, wanting to display her just how he liked. Your eyes burned and you let the tears fall down your cheeks without care. They dripped off your chin, falling onto your shirt. It was a band t-shirt. Your mother hated it, said that the swords were too violent, but she allowed you to wear it anyways.

You darted into the closest door- Jack’s old room- eye’s scanning your surroundings for a plan. Whatever Foyet was doing, you knew you didn’t have much time until he was coming after you.

“I just wanna play, Y/N. Come out, come out wherever you are.” He sang out. He must’ve taken your mother- your mother’s body, you corrected yourself bitterly- to your parents bedroom. With a chilling realization, you remembered you had been there only moments before. He was close to you.

Your eyes landed on the closet, overflowing with toys, even months after not being in use. Jack tended to get whatever he asked for- not that he was spoiled, he was just hard to say no to. It wasn’t difficult to squeeze into it, leaving the door open a crack. The gun sat in your hands ready and waiting.

You steadied the sound of your breathing.

How was you going to tell Jack about mom? Well that was a bit optimistic, now, wasn’t it? Presumptuous of you to think you would live through the next five minutes to be able to tell your little brother that our mother was dead, You thought bitterly.

“I think I’ll lay your body right next to your Mom. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? So you can be together?” He was in the hallway, and even with the barrier of Jack’s door and the closet door, the sound of his voice made you shiver. It was smooth, charming, even. If you hadn’t known he was a complete psychopath you wouldn’t have given the man much thought. You wouldn’t have thought him capable of doing the heinous acts he had done.

There was a creak, the door opening to the room and your arms rose slightly. Your eyes were peaking through the crack, your heart racing. You could see the man moving into the room, searching for his next prey- and that’s what he thought you were. Prey. He thought you were an easy target. Everyone did.

Everyone thought you were just some stupid kid. Some people said it outright and others just assumed. You could tell when you first met your father’s team, some of them had stereotyped you as well. They had asked her about school and about boys and gossip, because they assumed that was all you were capable of speaking about and then you had surprised them by mentioning books and Neo-noir films. You were accustomed to being underestimated. And you were betting your life that George Foyet was doing the same.

As soon as you saw the man move into the middle of the room, you sprung. The door flew open and before you could hesitate, you pulled the trigger. Pure shock could’ve been the reason, you were able to get out of the room. Or perhaps you had managed to shoot him in the head and end your family’s suffering once and for all. You weren’t sure because you were moving purely on instinct. Your feet carried you through the house, jumping over toys and broken chairs and bloodstains that weren’t there before.

“You bitch!”

Okay, so he was alive. He was chasing after you but you didn’t look back. You jumped into the linen closet, out of breath but not allowing yourself to pant as you wanted to. You could hear the slight groans of the man as he made his way through the house, though it was farther, as if he was walking in the wrong direction. You had slowed him down, that’s for sure. The gun in your hand felt warm, like a pat on the back, but the thought of your mother’s dead body lying somewhere in the house sat in the back of your mind.

Where was Jack? You thought briefly. You had to trust that he was safe. Trust and pray that whatever their dad had said to him had made sense. You hoped he couldn’t hear anything that was going on. That he didn’t hear the sound of your mother being murdered and you shooting the killer.

You  felt the towel shelf press into your back, but you didn’t dare move anymore. You were sure Foyet hadn’t died now. If anything, you might’ve made him more angry.

It smelled like fresh laundry in the small space and it reminded you of Sunday nights. Your father was usually home, cases typically being taken during the week and coming home Saturday nights. That’s why you liked Sundays so much. You liked waking up to the smell of pancakes while your father played a Beatles album. He would sing into a spatula and twirl your mother around the kitchen. And Haley would laugh and tell him to stop, but she never actually meant it. And, when he noticed you coming down the stairs, he would take you in his arms- no matter how big and tall you had gotten, he never stopped doing it. He would spin you around as well and when you was little you would dance on his feet, but when you were older, your bare feet would touch the cold hardwood floor.

Your mother would do crossword and pretend not to notice that your father was giving not-so-subtle hints every so often. Your father would have you catch him up on what you had been up to that week, and you would have to help Jack read through the comics because he didn’t really understand the jokes. Sundays were your favorite days because instead of being a separate family like they were every other day, they were all together and it felt normal.

You closed her eyes, trying to imagine it was Sunday.

A large clatter rang out, effectively snapping you from your thoughts. You could hear footsteps, fighting, yelling. It was hard to tell how long you waited in the closet, gun pressed to your chest. You could hear someone outside the door, light footsteps against hardwood.

The light on the bottom was obscured from a large shadow and you tried to prepare yourself. What would death feel like? Maybe you was selfish, or maybe you were a coward, but you didn’t want to know. You wanted to stomp your foot and say that it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that your mother was dead. It wasn’t fair that you were about to die. The door was ripped open and you extended your arms, about to shoot blindly, when you saw who was before you.

“Woah, hey, Y/N. Y/N, look at me.”

You had stopped crying long ago, but your entire body was shaking. There was so much tension in your shoulders, it felt like somebody had tied you up entirely, slowly but surely squeezing the life out of you. You hadn’t realized it before, much too focused in getting as far away from the serial killer in your house as possible, but when you had shot Foyet, some of his blood had splattered onto you. You could see it now that the light was on it. It sat on your hands, partially dried and partially wet. And you could feel some of it on your cheeks.

You wondered what you looked like.

Derek stared at you. Your eyes were wild, darting between the gun in your hands and the gun in Derek’s. Your cheeks, flushed as they were, were painted lightly with splattered blood. The only evidence of previous tears were puffy eyes, but you hardly seemed weak right now. You seemed…feral.

“Y'N, it’s me. You’re safe. it’s me, it’s Derek. Put that gun down.” It was strange. It was like you could see his lips moving, you could see that he was speaking but you couldn’t hear the words. All you could hear was the sound of your mother’s body hitting the stairs one at a time.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

“He’s dead. Y/N, he’s dead.” The sound came back all at once. Everything came back all at once.

You could see people behind Derek. There were cops and medical examiners, flooding in and out of your childhood home. They all seemed to be moving toward the same place, all in the direction where you had fled. They were heading toward the body, you realized. The body of your dead mother. There was the faint sound of sirens, and there was chatter. You wanted to yell at them, scream for them to be quiet. And then you saw someone else.

Your father was coming toward you. He was covered in blood. Who’s blood was that? Was that your mother’s? Was that Foyet’s? Movement caught your eye.

JJ was holding someone in her arms, he looked confused, pointing at his sister, eyes alarmed at the weapon in her hands and the Jaraeu woman seemed to be trying to turn him away. He was asking for you.

'Y/N/N?’ He said.

Your shoulders dropped, the weapon falling into the Morgan man’s waiting hands. You stepped forward. Despite your sudden awareness, everything felt like it was in slow motion. The world was moving with resistance, and you opened her arms, almost crumpling in relief when Jack squirmed away from the blonde agent and ran into your waiting arms. You scooped him into your arms, sitting him on your hip.

“Y/N!” Despite all the chaos around you two, you let yourself focus on your brother. He seemed fine. Confused, surely. He had looped his arms around your neck but his eyes squinted at the blood on your cheeks that hadn’t been there before. His little eyebrows furrowed, and he reached one hand to poke your cheek. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

Jack loved you. Before you two were put into witness protection program, he didn’t see you all too much. You were so busy with school and hanging out with your friends, that you hadn’t even been home very often. Then, you didn’t have much of a choice.

You  liked showing Jack your music- the clean versions, of course. He would scrunch his nose at certain metal heavy bands, but you assumed he liked most of them just because you did. He liked to play cards with you, and have your draw him funny sketches. And when he would have bad dreams, you never hesitated to let him sleep with you.

You felt multiple sets of eyes on you, your father pulling you into a hug. They all pretended not to notice you flinch. You kept your eyes on Jack.

“I’m fine.” You took a hand, running it through the boy’s ruffled hair from hiding god knows where. He giggled at the action, and you let your hand rest on his cheek for a moment. Your mother was dead somewhere in this house, her body laid across the floor, slaughtered. You swallowed down the rising bile in your throat.

“Let’s get you checked out, yeah?”

🥺

👉🏻👈🏻

Hands That Heal - Ch.5

Bucky Barnes x mechanic!fem!reader

Chapter Summary:  Things finally get heated with you and Bucky, once you help him overcome his insecurities. Chapter Warning: 18+ only, smut, oral (f), fluff Word count: 2138

Series Warnings: 18+ only, canon-typical violence, swearing, fluff, misogyny/degrading comments from some men, smut.

Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 coming soon

RECAP: “And where am I meant to fit?” You asked as you put your hand on your cocked hip.

He shuffled back and opened his arm out, giving you the space needed to lay in front of him. You didn’t waste any time filling the space and your head rested on his warm arm while his metal one curled over your waist. There was no way you were going to be able to focus on the movie as you felt the tips of his fingertips teasingly caressing the soft skin of your belly where your shirt had shifted and slowly inch their way down. 

“Bucky?” You asked with a breathy voice you barely recognised and his fingers froze where they were. “Please, don’t stop.”

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Two Minds, One Body || Mafia!Bucky [pt4]

Mafia!Bucky x fem!reader

Chapter Summary: It's Bucky/Winter's birthday 🥳 but there always has to be some drama... Warnings: 18+ only, kind of public sex (its a public place but no one is around), edging, more smut, possessive Winter, oral both, toys: vibrator, buttplug WC: 2.9k

Main Masterlist || Bucky Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

You were lucky Bucky was a patient man as he waited in the car for you. You still couldn’t decide what dress you wanted to wear and you held them both up against you in the mirrored dressing room. Trying one on again, you took a photo and sent it to Bucky since it would be his birthday you would be wearing it to. You saw the message turn to read and after a moment where no response came you sighed and reached for the zip.

Knock, knock. “Doll.”

You forgot the zip and unlocked the door, stepping back as Bucky quickly slipped in and locked it behind him. Your breathing hitched as you saw the lust in his eyes and he bit his lip as he looked over your body. “Do you like it?”

You gave him a spin and smirked when he caught you by the hips, pulling you against his body so you could feel just how much he liked it. “I’d like it even more on the floor.”

His hand trailed down your spine, taking the zip with it and he slipped the sleeves over your shoulder. The cool air of the boutique store would have left you shivering if it wasn’t for the fire Bucky was lighting across your skin. Your fingers had already opened the first buttons of his dress shirt before your brain clicked in and you froze.

“We can’t have sex here.” You whispered in his ear. “There’s people just outside.”

“You think I would let anyone else hear how beautiful you sound when you cum?” His dark chuckle washed over you and his smirk teased you as much as his fingers that were dipping into your panties. “I sent everyone away. You looked so sexy in that photo, just had to have you.”

You giggled at his neediness and he spun you around to lean your hands against the mirror. There was no wasting any time with Bucky today it seemed, he quickly pulled your panties down your legs and nudged them wider before he teased your slit with his blunt head. Your eyes connected through the mirror and your lips parted as he pushed past your entrance with a satisfied moan. He truly was insatiable, between him and Winter taking their turns with you it was a miracle you could still walk.

Your breath misted up the glass as Bucky gripped your hips and set a quick pace. If you had any thoughts you would have felt sorry for the person who would have to clean the fog of your breath and your fingerprints off the glass when you were done, but Bucky was erasing all your capacity to think as he fucked you senseless.

Bucky thumb and index finger teased your nipple and you cried out at the sudden pinch he gave you, your cunt tightening, before he soothed it once again as he chuckled in your ear. “Oh? You like that, babygirl.”

“God, yes…”

You could feel your orgasm building and so could Bucky, his hand running down your stomach to the juncture of your thighs. You looked down at the reflection and watched as he spread your lips and circled your clit, quickly bringing you to the edge of bliss before he pulled out. You whimpered at the loss of both the fullness and the orgasm you were within reach of.

“Bucky, please.” You begged as you watched him force his erection back into his pants and wink at you.

“Come on, doll, we have places to be.” He chuckled as he walked out of the dressing room. “Oh, and get both dresses, you’ll need a spare.”

You didn’t know what he meant by that but you did as he told. After getting dressed and resisting the urge to finish yourself off, you gathered up the dresses and found the staff returning to the shop floor. You didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic, not when you saw the way the cashier was eyeing Bucky up at the front window.

“I’ll have these.” You said as you pulled out your purse.

“No need.” She said as she pushed your card away. “Mr Barnes owns this store.”

You tucked the purse away and caught the sly smile one Bucky’s face as he walked back and carried the garment bags for you. “When you said you owned half of Brooklyn, I thought you were exaggerating, like men and the size of their penises.”

“I don’t have to exaggerate.” He laughed as he opened the door for you before going around to the other side. “On either account.”

You headed back to the townhouse instead of travelling back upstate, since Bucky’s birthday party was going to be at a local event space, and you watched with amusement as Bucky closed the door to the walk-in wardrobe behind you. “Come to tease me again?”

He had watched you squirm on your seat the whole drive home, every bump leaving you a little breathless. “Maybe. It’s my birthday so I can have my gift unwrapped as many times as I please.”

His fingers tipped your chin back so he could steal a kiss from your lips that were pouting at the idea of being edged again. Thankfully, you knew how to drive him as crazy as he did you. You dropped to your knees and pulled his cock free to see the thick beads of precum leaking from his angry red tip. You flicked your tongue over the little slit and hummed at his taste, each kitten lick jerked his body and you could see his patience wearing thin.

“It’s not nice when you don’t get to cum, isn’t it?” You asked innocently as you stroked him slowly, painfully so.

The glaze in his eyes was gone and his focus was on the teasing smile you held and he smirked as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “You want me to fuck you, is that it?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to make you cum all over my cock?”

“God, yes…please.”

His eyes seemed to sparkle as you turned to putty as his feet. “Ok, but then you have to wear the gift I got you tonight.”

You would sell your soul for him to just give you the release you needed. “Anything.”

He walked around you and pushed you onto all fours, his hands massaging your ass and teasing your dripping hole with his thumb. After tasting your nectar from his thumb he hummed and thrust his hips forward, filling you as you pushed yourself back to meet him. There was no way you were missing out on another orgasm and you reached between your legs and let your fingers glide over your bundle of nerves.

“Someone’s a bit greedy.” He teased with a spank as he felt your fingers against his shaft. “Go on, baby, wanna feel you cum.”

Your back arched as you chased your own release and your legs tried to close shut around Bucky until they began to tremble. Your moans filled the small room and the hands on your hips gripped you tighter so Bucky could ram himself as fast as possible, the loud slaps of your skin filling your ears.

“B-bucky, I’m, oh god…” Your words were lost as white hot flashes of light blinded you and your core clamped down around him, milking him as he released himself inside you.

“Holy fuck.” He panted as his hips continued to jerk and you felt the most full you ever had, his cum leaking out and down your legs as he watched it rolling down. “Look at that beautiful mess.”

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The party was in full swing and businessmen and women from all over the world had accepted the invitation to Bucky’s birthday. You knew the majority of the people around you were criminals of one kind or another but you couldn’t tell them apart from the straight-laced business owners who mingled among them. The politicians you could spot a mile away, their seedy nature sending you in the opposite direction, which is how you ended up near the pool table. Your glances kept returning to the table but there was no one else playing, just people using it as a drink holder.

“Such a longing stare, should I be jealous of someone?” Bucky asked quietly in your ear, just above the music, as his hands came to rest on your hips.

“You’ve set my standards too high now, there’s no one that could make you jealous.” You promised as you turned in his arms. “It’s been a long time since I played pool, do you play?”

“Not since I found a better way to spend my time.” He smirked before taking your hand and leading you over, the people grabbing their drinks as Bucky took two cues from the holder. “Ladies first.”

You took your pick of the cue and chalked it up before walking around to the head of the table and lining up the break. The cue warmed your fingers as you pushed and pulled, readying your shot before you dropped your head and bit your lip to stifle the moan. When the sensation passed you shot daggers at Bucky, his phone in hand and ready to set off another vibration in your core. When he said to wear the gift he bought you, you thought he meant the dress. You were sorely mistaken.

“Take the shot, doll.” He teased as he lowered the settings but left it running.

You took a deep breath and rushed the shot, balls exploding in all directions but a large sinking into the corner. He slipped his phone away to clap at the shot and more people turned to watch the game unfold and you watched with intrigue as his tongue peeked out in concentration and one eye slightly closed as he lined it up. He had played you once again, he was more than just an amateur and nearly sunk all his balls before missing one and returning back to the side.

You already anticipated what came next once he pulled his phone from his pocket and you felt as if the entire club was watching you teeter on the edge of an orgasm - and then it was gone. You sagged with relief and took your shot, sinking three before missing a shot. You retreated to a wall so you had something to lean on as your legs trembled and you felt your arousal running down your thighs.

A warm body pressed against you and for a split second you thought it strange that Bucky had missed his shot so soon but you found a stranger with a bitter cologne in your face. The man had obviously been drinking as it was strong on his breath that you tried to recoil from, your head turning away and locking eyes with Winter. The room seemed to hold their breath collectively as Winter stalked his way over, cue in hand.

Winter glared daggers as he splintered the cue on the man's back and tore him away from you. “No one touches my kukolka.”

His possessiveness was more electric than the vibrator and the start of a moan sneaked past your lips before you could stop it, the sound instantly catching Winter’s attention. His head snapped to you and he looked torn between wanting to destroy the man that touched you and wanting to touch you himself. Snapping his head to Nico, he shoved the man his way and Nico clearly understood the assignment as he began pulling the stranger towards the back exit where some of the guards' cars were waiting. You knew he would pay for his transgression later but for now, Winter had better things to do.

“You don’t want to finish the game?” You gasped as he pinned you to the wall and wiped the memory of the last two minutes with one heated gaze.

“I want to play with you.” He growled in your ear as his teeth grazed over your racing pulse. He nipped the skin and chuckled as you jumped, your body rubbing against his and feeling how hard he was for you.

You looked around and found the attention had returned to the band playing and whatever else the people were up to before the short disturbance. Grabbing Winter’s hand you made your way to the dark service alley and a restricted area before he pulled you to a stop and ran his hands over the soft material of your dress.

“I’m gonna leave my marks all over you, kukolka, so no one forgets who you belong to.” He promised as his lips kissed your collarbone before sucking on the delicate skin.

Your fingers buried themselves in his dark hair and you held him to your chest, the love bites leading their way down your plunging neckline until he reached the bust. His hands pulled up your dress as he dropped to his knees and you lost contact with his hair as he disappeared under your dress. You gasped and threw your hands back to the wall for balance as he pulled you leg over his shoulder and kissed your clit.

If anyone were to walk in they would see your dress puffed out, and a bit lumpy, and the peek of red bottomed mens dress shoes beneath the hem. They would also see your face painted with ecstasy, his marks against your neck, your jaw hung in suspense as his tongue lashed across your swollen pearl and his fingers gently tugged the tail of the purple silicone love egg Bucky had put in you. The vibrating increased and you gripped the material across your stomach as if you could stop your body jerking in response.

“Win, please, I need to cum.” You begged as the overstimulation left your body twitching and trembling.

You felt him chuckle against your clit and you shivered at the added vibration before he sucked it between his lips. You could feel the liquid running down your thighs, more escaping every time he moved the egg, and he hummed greedily as he pulled away and licked the rivulets clean. Suddenly the vibrations turned to what you could only hope was the maximum setting because you could not take anymore. You cried out and if it wasn’t for Winter holding you you would have collapsed as your orgasm crashed over you.

“Clench, kukolka.” Winter ordered and you couldn’t not clench if you tried, your pussy was holding tight to the egg that was still buzzing inside you.

Winter’s fingers grabbed the tail and he pulled it, fighting your body to keep it in your cunt but he won, the vibrator coming free, your juices flowing down your legs. You sagged with relief as the stimulation was gone but your head was still spinning as Winter emerged from your dress with a proud grin and a glistening chin.

“I can’t go back out in this.” You murmured as you felt the back of the dress damp where it clung to your legs.

Winter took your hand and wove deeper through the service alley to a private room and you found the second dress hanging in the garment bag. You took it from the coat hanger with a laugh, heading to the bathroom to clean up first. “You really did plan to ruin the dress.”

“I’ll ruin that one too, but it can wait till we get home.”

Your core was already throbbing at the thought and you had to shut the door before you took a seat on his lap and rode him into the couch he was waiting for you on. You had already kept him away from his party for too long, he should make a reappearance before people think he left. You stepped out of the bathroom with the dress held to your chest and he was already rising from the chair with his tongue licking his lips at the sight.

“Do me up?” You asked over your shoulder and shivered as his cool fingers zipped you up and kissed your neck softly. “Will you dance with me?”

Winter nodded but not before you caught his smirk. “First, bend over, you’re forgetting something.”

He opened his palm and your eyes widened at the metal plug that had a large diamond set in the base. “Wiiiiinnn...”

“It’s this or the egg, your choice.” His grin only widened when you bent over and held the back of the chair, the egg was just too much in your current state and you weren’t going to deny his request, you wanted it.

The cold metal pressed to your dripping folds first, making it slick before he gently pressed it to your ass. His free hand massaged your lower back as it met resistance and he pushed just a little bit more. “Relax.”

You exhaled deeply and tried not to tense as you felt yourself spreading for it, stretching enough to steal your breath before the pressure was gone and you felt full. “Good girl. Keep it there for me for the rest of the night.”

You straightened up and you wished you chose the egg as a new wave of pleasure filled you and your eyes widened at how good every step felt. His eyes darkened as he watched your chest rise and fall with your controlled breaths and he knew you were going to be dripping down your legs soon. “Time for that dance, kukolka.”

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Consider this my big hug for you !!!

Missed you really much !

Oh god it’s been so long !!! I’m scared to send you this because I anxious part of me is scared that you forgot me 🥲

But I genuinely missed you and your fics so much imma binge read everything that you wrote in a month !!

Eid al-Fitr Mubarak! I missed you too lovely, I could never, ever, ever forget you. I literally squealed when I saw your icon, I'm so happy that you are back ♥️

I’m a simp for mafia / ceo bucky !! This was perfect as always

Hiii! If you dont mind me requesting smth along the lines of either mafia!bucky or ceo!bucky…

Its no question that hes always busy, going on business trips or meetings that you havent been spending time with him as much. So once you once you got the news hes coming back home, you’re definitely overjoyed, ready to shower him with all your love and kisses but what if not long later he tells you he needs to go on another trip? You’ll def cry so much (maybe even a breakdown lol) and it soon hits him how little time hes been spending with you and doesnt realize how much its hurting you. i like to think he’ll cancel all his plans to reassure and love on you, comforting you, fucking ur brains out hehe😮‍💨 like a good emotional sex, hes wiping your tears away n all But ill leave it up to your imagination <3

i hope this isnt tooo long and i absolutely adore your writing and thank you for feeding us w ur fics everyday 🥰💕

Dinner is served, come and get your daily feeding of Bucky <3 hehe thank you for reading them! I went with CEO!Bucky just for a change but I think he would still have the same BDE that comes with being at the top of the food chain.

Homecoming || CEO!Bucky

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, oral (f rec), unprotected sex, crying, angst, fluff WC: 2.4K

Main Masterlist || Bucky Masterlist

It seemed as if you had spent more nights alone than with your husband this month and it was really beginning to take its toll. The phone calls, photos and FaceTiming couldn’t replace the feel of his chest under your head or his arms curled around your waist, and the puffy bags under your eyes were a testament to how little you could sleep without him next to you. The only thing keeping your sanity together was knowing that he was coming home tonight and that he was yours for the next week.

Right on time, you heard the buzz of the gates opening and his driver pulled up at the front door. You threw the door open and ran down the steps, barrelling into his arms as he stepped out of the car and you felt his contented sigh brush over your skins as he wrapped himself around you, tucking his face into your neck as he inhaled his favourite perfume on you. You didn’t even realise you were crying until he pulled back and brushed them away.

“I missed you too, doll.”

He started to make his way up the steps to the house with his arm fitting into the curve of your waist, leading you along with him. You looked back at the car briefly wondering where his bags were but the moment was fleeting as he pressed his lips to your temple and chased all thoughts away.

“Are you hungry? I saved some dinner for you.” You asked as he kicked the door closed so he didn’t have to let go of you.

“Starving.” He smirked, pressing your back to the foyer wall and pinning you between his body.

His lips crushed against yours, stealing your breath as he showed you just how hungry he was for you and you knew you wouldn’t make it upstairs before your clothes disappeared. His hands were already slipping the straps of your dress from your shoulders before his nimble fingers ran down your spine, opening the zip so the material floated to your feet. Your hands immediately began to cover your body as you looked to the door.

“We should wait until your bags are brought in.” You bit your lip, not wanting to be caught naked by Bucky’s driver because you knew he would probably fire him on the spot for seeing what only Bucky was allowed to see.

“They aren’t coming.” He murmured against your skin as he tried to capture your lips again but you froze and pushed him away.

“Why not?” Your chest was already beginning to ache as you saw the answer in his eyes, the guilt that he was leaving again. “You said we would have the week together.”

Your voice was quiet, broken, as you swallowed the lump in your throat and began to make your way up the stairs so he couldn’t see the tears forming in your eyes. His heavier footsteps followed you and you climbed even faster so he couldn’t pull you to a stop but it wasn’t enough. He caught you on the landing of the first floor and turned you to face him, your eyes looking anywhere but at him.

Your voice was quiet, broken, as you swallowed the lump in your throat and began to make your way up the stairs so he couldn’t see the tears forming in your eyes. His heavier footsteps followed you and you climbed even faster so he couldn’t pull you to a stop but it wasn’t enough. He caught you on the landing of the first floor and turned you to face him, your eyes looking anywhere but at him.

“Baby, I’m sorry.” He apologised as he cupped your face. “It was last minute.”

“Of course it was.” You muttered, the bitterness tainting your mouth. “And it’s important for the business. I get it.”

“Do you?” He frowned, his jaw tensing as he saw the slow growing resentment burning in your eyes.

“I do.” You sighed, remembering where Bucky started and how far he had come, fighting tooth and nail to build his business. “I just…you promised me we would have time together, Buck. You’ve worked so hard to get to where you are and we have this huge house, but what does it matter when I am here all alone.”

You couldn’t hold the intensity of his eyes and twisted your head out of his hold, wiping the tears that were free falling once again. You felt guilty that you were ruining the short time you had with him and it made you feel even worse when you saw his lips turn down. You reached out for him, needing to apologise for adding your baggage to his shoulders that were already weighed down with responsibilities.

“I’m sorry, it’s not that bad, I’m just tired and it's making me more emotional than normal.” You tried to explain as you dropped your head to his chest but he tipped your head back and spied the bags under your eyes.

“When was the last time you slept, love?”

“Last night.”

“Doll…”

“I did sleep last night,” you huffed but he knew you too well, “for three hours.”

His head dropped to yours, resting his forehead against yours as he shook his head in disappointment. “You should be getting your rest.”

Your words choked in your throat, hating that you couldn’t tell the man you loved the truth that you couldn’t sleep when he wasn’t there. He already had enough on his plate so you just nodded and let his lips distract you from the tick, tick, tick of the grandfather clock behind you, reminding you of every second that brought his departed closer. Wrapping his tie around your hand you stepped back, keeping his lips pressed to yours as you led him to the bedroom.

Bucky’s hands gripped your hips as you reached the bed and he pushed you back so you were sprawled across the bedspread, a meal waiting for him to devour. You hadn’t let go of his tie and he was pulled across you, his hands catching him either side of your head and his eyes trailing your skin that he covered like a blanket.

“Baby, I need you right now.” You moaned as his knees spread your thighs apart and he rolled his hips into yours, grinding his erection against your core.

“You’ll have to let go if you want me, doll.” He chuckled as he took your hand and unravelled his silk tie from your grasp.

You were writhing just by the way his fingers pulled his tie free and you couldn't look away, watching him work his buttons free and baring his toned chest so you could reach out and run your fingers across the smooth skin. His clothes were discarded to the floor and you licked your lips as his cock stood proud, the thin material of your panties catching the desire that escaped your folds. He could see how needy you were as he ran his fingers over the material, feeling the dampness through them and in an instant they were gone, being tossed over his shoulder.

“Fuck, I missed you babygirl.” He purred to your pussy as he knelt on the floor and pulled your ass to the edge. “Did you miss me?”

You hummed as he kissed the soft skin of your inner thighs before his hot breath blew across your lips, tongue teasing your folds as he took his time reconnecting with your body after weeks apart. Your moans were soft and you laced your hands in his hair needing to feel more so you pulled his face closer to your skin, wrapping your legs over his back so you could angle your hips just how you needed it.

“Oh god, that’s it baby.” You praised as his lips sealed around your clit and sucked it real good. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Your back was arching as the whitehot lights flashed across your vision and your body splintered into pieces around Bucky’s mouth. It wasn’t until your legs stopped trembling and fell limp at your side that Bucky rose from where he was knelt and wiped the glistening juices running down his chin. Concern flickered across his features and it was only then that you realised there were tears leaking from the corners of your eyes and you rushed to wipe them away.

“Oh god, what is wrong with me?” You whispered as you failed to stop them from falling and the weight in your chest returned, chasing away the pleasure you had just been given.

“Shhh…” Bucky soothed as he climbed on the bed and pulled you into his arms. “Talk to me, doll, I hate seeing you cry.”

Your chest was shuddering as the sobs you tried to contain in your body broke free and you clung to him desperately, as if he might just slip through your fingers if you didn’t hold him tight enough. “I hate seeing you leave. I fucking hate it, Bucky. I hate it.”

Your voice was rising and you didn’t even notice your fists were pounding on his chest until he took them and kissed your clenched fists and your confession slipped past your lips. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

His head reared back and his lips parted with surprise. “What are you saying, y/n?”

Your head was shaking wildly, wishing you could redact the words as you heard the pain in his but you couldn’t stop more from escaping as you reached the point of hysteria. “I don’t know, I can’t think about anything except you leaving, over and over. I married you because I thought we would be together, this just isn’t what I signed up for.”

“Fuck.” You barely heard Bucky’s soft curse as you failed to gather enough air in your lungs and you pressed your chin to your chest. You felt Bucky shift you so that you were chest to chest with him and you felt his cold, wet tears splatter on your shoulder. “Forgive me.”

You could barely hear him as your heart beat so loud in your ears but then he called your name and forced you to look into his steel blue eyes that were filled with tears of his own. “I never knew, if I had known I never would have left you. Please, I can’t lose you. I’ll change, I promise.”

“But your business-”

“Means nothing without you, everything I do is so I can provide you with what I thought you wanted, a big house, the cars…”

Your sobs turned to sniffles as you dried his eyes, the only other time you had seen him cry was on your wedding day. “I only wanted you.”

“I’ll cancel the trip.” He promised as he wrapped his arms tightly around your back and buried his face in your neck. “If I have to go, I’ll take you with me. I never want you to feel alone, fuck, I’m so sorry my love.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I didn’t want to be what held you back.” You admitted as you stroked his hair.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby, this is on me.” He shook his head and gently moved you off his lap. “But I’m gonna make this right.”

He grabbed his pants off the floor and found his phone, disappearing out of the room towards his home office. You were exhausted both physically and mentally so you climbed under the blankets and curled into a ball wondering how long it would take him to make this right, whatever ‘this’ meant. It was less than five minutes and he returned, dropping his phone onto the side table and slipping under the covers with you.

“Steve is going to represent the company for me on the next few trips.” He said softly as he shuffled closer and big spooned your body. “The board will take care of the rest and you have me all to yourself for the next four weeks.”

Surprise and elation flooded you and you turned on his arms. “Really?”

“Cross my heart.” He smiled and wiped the fresh tears from your cheeks. “These ones are happy right?”

You couldn’t answer as your lips were busy telling him with a kiss, your smile pressing against his as his body stirred against yours. His hand leisurely ran along your body until it reached your knee and he pulled your leg up over his hip, his hard cock digging into your belly. A quick adjustment of his hips had him lining up with your entrance and you both moaned as his head slipped through, gripping him tight as he stretched his way inside.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight for me.”

He filled you so good as he rolled his hips with long slow strokes, stoking the fire in your belly so that it roared back to life. Your chests rose and fell in unison as you held each other so tight it was impossible to get any closer. You had to feel him, all of him, your husband that had changed all of his plans for you, putting you first just like he promised when he married you. His soft lips kissed away the tears of relief and the tears of joy before they reconnected with yours and shared the salty taste.

“I love you.” He said with a shuddering breath, his cock swelling even more before he had to bury himself deeper and he rolled over.

Your eyes fluttered closed at the new angle and the depth that pressed towards your stomach, but he begged you to open your eyes so her could see them as you fell apart. You looked up at his handsome face, the bright colour of his eyes almost completely consumed by his pupils, his cheeks blushed and his pink lips were swollen from your kisses. He was so beautiful and he was yours.

“I love you too.” You panted as his hips slammed quickly into yours and the heat spread across your skin until you were sure you would combust. “Oh, baby, oh, god…”

Your body trembled beneath him and he felt your pushy clench around him, igniting his own fuse to explode. You felt his cock pulsing within your quivering walls and the heat of his cum filling you as you locked your arms around his neck and cradled his head to your chest.

The moment of peace was everything you ever wanted, it was just you and him without the cloud of doubt hanging over you, the cloud that would bring the torrential rain at his departure. You no longer had to worry about how you would fall asleep alone in the large bed, wherever he went, you would be right beside him. Until then, you had four weeks at home and you were going to make the most of it.

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Enamored [36] - Preparations

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback my loves, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please let me know what you think, thank you! ❤ And as always, thank you @theskytraveler for helping me with the chapter and the story❤

Summary: Planning a wedding takes time.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, mentions of sex, kissing.

Word Count: 4800

Series Masterlist

You were so excited for your wedding that the moment your father gave you his approval, you had transformed a spare room into a planning room. It was impossible for everything to fit into your bedroom after all, and you had insisted personally approving everything that was going to be present at the engagement party and the wedding.

It was almost crazy that in only two weeks, you would be married to the love of your life. Every time the thought crossed your mind, it filled you with so much happiness that you felt like even the sun was shining brighter than before.

But it also meant that you now only had two weeks to plan the wedding.

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The fact that I am reading this and smiling like a moron while being in my victimologie class. 😭

Enamored 39 - Sneak Peek 2

“I will embroider something else on it,” you insisted and he raised his brows.

“Do you promise to give it back?”

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