Two Minds, One Body || Mafia!Bucky [pt3]

Oh ! This is exactly what I needed right now 🙃

Enamored [43] - Dancing with the Devil

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: Lovers’ quarrels are the renewal of love.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, mentions of sex, some gender specific language and terms, arguments.

Word Count: 7500

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 You couldn’t sleep that night.

It felt nearly impossible. Your thoughts were like a hurricane in your mind, and more than once you had got up from the bed to pace in the room, desperate for some sort of movement as if that could help with just how restless you were.

It didn’t help that you were alone in your bed for the first time after almost a month.

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It’s Jeff: Infinity Comic #2 (2021)

written by Kelly Thompson art by Gurihiru

This is the golden stuff that I missed during my one month break !!!

(I’m so fucking tired I wanna continue reading but my eyes are burning 😭)

Take You Away || Bucky

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: You and Bucky are friends from work. You are a chef at the Avengers Compound and you see him every day but after a while he becomes suspicious of your home life and sets out to save from the abuse you receive. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, domestic violence (abusive boyfriend, mentions of an abusive father), injuries, fluff, WC: 4451

main masterlist || bucky masterlist

The end of your pen was a sharp mess of twisted plastic by the time you had finished chewing on it. The added responsibility of stock taking the kitchen was adding more pressure to your already busy day and you still needed to get the food order sent for the menu next week. The head chef was on leave and thought you had been there long enough that you could handle it on your own, you had thought so too.

Banana blueberry muffins. You still had to make them and breakfast would open in less than an hour. Rushing out of the storeroom you crashed into a wall of muscle that you hadn’t expected to find in the galley. Your face hit his shoulder and you groaned as the metal hit your already sore cheekbone. His face blanched as he heard your whimper and his arms gently caught your shoulders as he apologised profusely for hurting you.

“It’s fine, Bucky.” You said with a small smile, trying not to rub away the makeup on your face. “I’m more surprised than anything. Were you looking for something I could help with?”

He blinked as if he forgot what he was there for before nodding. “Coffee, please, I’ve run out.”

You turned around and ducked back into the storeroom to grab a packet of instant coffee that was used on each individual floor's kitchenette. Bucky always seemed to go through more than anyone else and it was probably to do with how early he rose each day. You grabbed two just to save him the trip down to the cafeteria later in the week and handed them over with a smile.

“Oh shit.” He gasped as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes widened with panic as he saw the bruise under your foundation and you brushed his touch aside. You turned away so you had space to breathe and waved his apology off the best you could. “It’s fine, nothing to worry about.”

“It’s not fine, I hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me, I just bruise easily.” Your eyes misted at the guilt lacing his voice and you wanted to admit the truth so he didn’t feel bad but you couldn’t. “I’m really busy this morning, was there anything else I could get you, Bucky?”

He shook his head sadly and retreated from the kitchen, a dark cloud hanging over him as he left. You felt terrible that you had caused it and you wiped your eyes before composing yourself, you had got yourself through a lot worse by pretending you were fine and you could do it once again. By the time the muffins were ready you had almost forgotten the event completely and the cafeteria opened for everyone at the compound.

Laughter and smiles filled the tables but there was one noticeable absence that you knew you were responsible for. Handing control over to the chef de partie, you tossed your apron over your hook and filled a plate of food before leaving the kitchen. The gym was almost empty since everyone was at breakfast but there was one man at the back, taking his anger out on a punching bag. You knew he heard the door close from the way he froze before continuing the assault.

“I, um, thought you might be hungry.” You murmured as you held out the plate to him.

“I already ate.” He grumbled between punches.

“No, you didn’t.” You said as you took a seat on a bench and placed the plate beside you. “I just got the order forms from your floor, you haven’t used anything from the kitchen. Just coffee.”

He sighed and dropped his hands to his sides, sweat glistening across his forehead. “You’re not going to leave until I eat are you.”

“It’s literally my job to make sure you are well fed.” You shrugged and pushed the plate closer to him. “It’s your favourite. You don’t want me to get fired do you?”

It was a low blow since he was already feeling guilty but he knew you wouldn’t get fired over something trivial like that, at least you hoped he did. His strides were slow as he grabbed a towel and wiped away his sweat before sitting down, looking at the plate piled high with food.

“How do you know it’s my favourite?” He asked as he picked up the muffin.

“It’s the only flavour you grab two of.” You smiled before your phoned rang in your pocket and your face fell, the personalised tone letting you know exactly who it was calling. “I should get going.”

“Everything alright?” He frowned at the change in your mood and you mentally slapped yourself for letting anything show.

“Just the usual stress and chaos in the kitchen.” You joked and rose to make your way to the door.

“If you want to talk about it, I’m pretty good at listening.” Bucky offered with a shrug.

“Thanks, Buck, I’ll keep that in mind.” You said before the phone rang again and you rushed to make it back to the kitchen.

Your shift had ended five minutes ago and your boyfriend was impatient at the best of times so keeping him waiting was not a smart move. You hurried your way through the kitchen that was being cleaned down and ready for the lunch team to begin preparing their meal. You waved to a few of the chefs on the way to grab your bag and reminded them you would be back for the dinner shift later. The split shifts weren’t ideal but until the head chef returned you would just make do.

“I’ve been waiting fucking 20 minutes.” Justin growled as you got in the passenger side.

It hadn’t been 20 minutes but you were not going to correct him as he started the engine and pulled out of the compound way too fast. “Sorry.”

“I’ve got the boys coming over for the game tonight. You can make it up to me by cooking us something good.”

“I’m working tonight.” You reminded him weakly.

“Does it look like I give a fuck?” He said, looking away from the road to stare at you. “Figure it out.”

“Alright.” You dropped your head to the cold window beside your head, trying to get a few minutes of rest before you got home.

You were completely exhausted as you reached the kitchen. You had planned on resting between shifts but instead you had made a feast for Justin and his friends and prayed he followed the reheating instructions you left. Stifling another yawn at being awake for 13 hours already, you hung up your bag and grabbed your apron, four more and you could go home to bed.

There was nothing you wanted more than to rest your sore feet but as you left the compound you found the car park dark and empty. You should have known he would have forgotten to pick you up, in fact he was probably drunk so it was best he didn’t drive. Gripping your bag closer to your side, you started making your way to the security gate only to see a pair of headlights illuminate the night.

“Y/n, hope in.” Bucky ordered as he pulled up beside you with his window down. “And don’t even try to argue, I’m not letting you walk home in the middle of the night.”

You looked at the gate that was still so far away and you knew there was no way you could decline his offer. With a small smile you walked around the car and he pushed the door open for you to climb in. The ride was quiet but it was the nice type of quiet, something you rarely got to have and you almost fell asleep it was so peaceful.

“It’s just up here on the left.” You said quietly, embarrassed about him seeing the rundown trailer that you called home.

He came to a stop outside one of the nicer homes on the street and you grabbed your bag from the floor. “Thank you for the ride, Bucky, I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, any time.” He smiled sincerely before seeing a group of men stumble down the footpath, angry shouts about the losing team they had supported. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary.” You assured him but he wasn’t having it and the car was already turned off. Placing your hand on his arm, you turned your eyes to his and hoped he saw your silent pleas. “It’s not necessary, Bucky.”

His lip was pinched between his teeth and he waited until the men had gone past the car before he nodded begrudgingly. “Ok, but give me your phone.”

You handed it over, knowing how stubborn the man was, and he messaged himself before giving it back. “Text me when you’re safe inside.”

You thanked him once again as you got out and walked quietly up the porch steps with a wave. Your sigh of relief was heavy as you watched his car disappear around the corner and you sent a message to him as you walked down the street to your home, his reply coming back almost instantly.

Bucky: Anytime you need a ride just let me know.

You left his message on read as you unlocked the door and heard the loud snores of Justin asleep on the couch with empty beer cans scattered over the coffee table. Even though you could barely keep your eyes open you knew he would be angry if he woke up to the mess so you quietly collected the rubbish and cleaned the sink full of dirty plates. You didn’t even take the time to wash the smell of cooking from your skin before you went to bed and instantly fell asleep.

A sharp slap to your cheek woke you with a cry of pain and you found Justin towering over you with your phone in his hand, Bucky’s message on the screen. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

Your cheek was burning and tears were stinging your eyes as you shook your head rapidly. “Just someone from work, they dropped me off because you didn’t pick me up.”

“Don’t put this on me.” He spat. “Are you fucking him? You are, aren’t you?”

The back of his hand struck out but you managed to protect your face from the hit, the big cheap ring on his finger cutting across your forearm instead. Your scream was muffled by the squeeze of his hand over your mouth and you whimpered until he let you go.

“I’m not, baby, I would never cheat on you. I just couldn’t walk all the way home.” You pleaded for him to listen as his hands trembled and carefully reached out to take his hands in yours. You could see his eyes were bloodshot and the stench of stale beer turned your stomach but you had to calm him down, any way possible. Pulling him into the bed with you, you turned your face away from the sloppy kisses and apologies he whispered against your skin, letting him have his way until he collapsed back to sleep on his side. You slipped from the bed as his snores filled the room and showered away his touch.

The bruise on your cheek was almost gone but now you had the angry cut on your forearm that you needed to clean and cover before it got infected. The rubbing alcohol stung and you bit your lip to avoid crying out and possibly waking Justin, the whimpers bouncing off the tiny stall that could barely fit the shower and toilet. It was still dark outside and you thought about taking the car but if Justin woke before you got back from the breakfast shift you knew you would pay dearly for it, and you didn't have a licence, so you put on a pair of sneakers and began the long walk to the compound.

You covered your elbow over your mouth as you hid another yawn and found Bucky’s eyes narrowing in on the bandage covering your forearm. “What happened?”

Your exhaustion was making you more susceptible to tears and you worked hard to be nonchalant as you laughed it off. “I burnt it when I was getting the muffins out of the oven.”

“I didn’t see you getting dropped off this morning.”

You shrugged off his concern and busied yourself topping up the bacon that was always a favourite. “I didn’t realise you were keeping such a close eye on me.”

“You’re my friend, and I don’t really sleep so I keep watch of who comes and goes.” He said defensively, as if you had shouted to the entire cafeteria that he was a stalker.

“I appreciate the concern, but I chose to walk this morning.” You lied smoothly, or at least thought you did. These were trained professionals who regularly interrogated people for their job but you had been lying to yourself for years. He still looked concerned but added the fresh bacon to his plate and chewed on a strip of the crispy protein as he watched you walk away.

Fear consumed you as you stepped over the threshold and saw Justin waiting, leaning against the sink with his arms crossed over his chest. You had tried to dissuade Bucky from giving you a ride home when Justin failed to show but it was raining and he would not leave it be. Your shadow was cast against the wall as Bucky reversed out of your drive, and you were already feeling ill that he had seen where you really lived.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not much to look at.” You had whispered quietly when you had shown where you lived and not the house he had previously dropped you off.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, doll. I grew up in a shoebox and had to share a room with my little sister until I was 20.” He reassured you, your heart hammering at the casual endearment that shouldn't have affected you as much as it did.

Your shadow disappeared and all you were left with was the looming mass of Justin stepping closer, your body seeming to shrink as he leant past you and closed the door. The smell of cigarettes and weed clung to his clothes while whiskey tainted his breath and you wished you could run back out into the rain and beg Bucky to stop. You didn’t even feel the first hit or the second, there was a place you had created deep in your mind and that was where you went on nights like this.

The cold water of the shower ran over your face and hid the tears that stung your cuts as you sat on the floor beneath the spray. There was nothing more you wanted to do than walk out of this shower, walk out of this trailer and out of Justin’s life but he controlled everything. You couldn’t even go to the shops without his permission, you didn’t even have your own bank cards, he controlled your life.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when he banged loudly against the door and you shut the water off quickly. There was no way you could go to work looking like you did and you turned away from the foggy mirror to slink into the bedroom and find some loose clothing. You only had one objective and that was to avoid any confrontation and let your wounds heal. You searched for your phone to call in sick but you couldn’t find it anywhere.

“Jus, have you seen my phone?” You asked as you limped to the living room and found him scrolling through your device.

“Why? So you can message Bucky?” He growled.

“I need to tell work I won’t be in.”

You kept your eyes trained on the floor and for a second he held the phone out but before you could wrap your fingers around it he dropped it to the floor, the screen shattering on impact. “Oops.”

You swiped it off the ground and hurried back to the bedroom, hoping it still worked but the screen was completely dead. You knew Justin would never let you touch his phone so you just hoped you still had a job when the swelling went down and you could hide everything under a thick layer of foundation.

“Hey, have you seen y/n?” Bucky asked the chef’s rushing around the galley.

A round of no’s circulated the kitchen and his frown deepened as he called your number and heard it go to voicemail once again. Leaving the cafeteria he went into the administration wing and found Pepper leaving her office.

“Good morning, Mrs Stark.”

“Hi Bucky,” she smiled, “you look a little lost. Who are you looking for?”

Bucky scratched his neck as he looked around the mostly empty office space, but it was still too early for most people to start work. “I was wondering where y/n was.”

“The kitchens I should assume.” She chuckled.

“She didn’t show up today.”

Pepper’s eyebrows knitted together as she knew no one had called through the office in the time she had been in, which was earlier than everyone else. “That’s strange for her. Let me try to call her, just give me a minute.”

She started to turn back to her office but Bucky stopped her. “I tried, it keeps going to voicemail.”

“Well I’m not sure how else I can help, sorry, we don’t have an address for her or I’d send Happy to check on her.”

“What?”

“Yeah, HR has been chasing her up for months about it but…I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

The pit in Bucky’s stomach was getting heavier with each word out of Pepper’s mouth and he was already heading back to the elevator before she had finished, looking confused by his sudden departure. His fingers were nearly bending the car key he fiddled with as he made his way down to the garage and sped out of the compound. He told himself you were fine, you might be sick and resting, your phone left unplugged from the charger and had died while you were sleeping. But a stronger instinct in him told him something was wrong.

He skidded to a halt in your driveway, his boots stomping loudly up the warped wooden steps before his fist knocked on the trailer door. He could hear whispers inside but couldn’t quite make out what was being said before the door opened and Justin filled the doorway. You had seen the sleek black car pulling in and been sent to the bedroom where you wouldn’t be seen before Justin had opened the door.

“Where is she?” Bucky growled.

“What’s it matter to you? Get your own whore.”

Justin’s insult hurt but it was Bucky’s laugh that you found crushing as you buried your face in your pillow to catch the tears escaping your body. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this little punk.”

A crash sent your heart racing and you heard groaning before more of your little house sounded like it was being destroyed. You slipped from the bed and hid beneath your blanket  in the furthest corner of the room, covering your ears as the violence escalated just like your mom taught you. You screwed your eyes shut and tried to remember the songs she used to hum to calm you down but the panic kept rising, she wasn’t here to distract you and she wasn’t here to be the distraction like she was with your fathers anger.

“Y/n?” Bucky’s voice called out. “Where are you, doll?”

You lowered the blanket slowly, just enough so you could see him standing in the doorway to your bedroom, his chest puffing from the short fight. You couldn’t see Justin anywhere. He caught sight of your movement and rounded the bed, his hand held out as you pressed yourself further back into the wall.

“Hey, hey, it's okay, beautiful.” He said softly. “Can I see your smile? I missed it this morning.”

You swallowed deeply, refusing to show him the bruises and the split lip Justin had inflicted. “You should just go.”

“Not without you.” He said with a shake of his head and crouched down to your height. “I’m going to take the blanket now, okay.”

His movements were slow as he reached out and you gripped the frayed edges tighter for a moment before you saw your timid reflection in his eyes. This was the man who had been shy and quiet when you met but you had watched him grow into this man in front of you. If he could overcome the violence he had endured, then maybe there was hope for you. Letting go of the blanket, you saw his eyes harden and you flinched away.

“I’m not going to hurt you, y/n. I’m not angry at you.” He promised before looking back at the door and pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

You could hear him talking but it was too quiet to hear and in less than 60 seconds he had returned with his hand out to you. “Can I help you up?”

You placed your hand in his and he helped you to stand, noticing the wince as you put weight on your leg and his arm curled around your waist to pull you into his side. “I’ve got you. I’m going to take you away from here, doll.”

“I have nowhere to go.” You muttered.

“Now you do.” He gently turned your head into the curve of his neck as you left the room and he hid the destruction from your sight. “You shouldn’t have to see this.”

By the time he had got you sat safely in his car you saw the Falcon land on your small patch of lawn and Bucky pointed inside your home. They didn’t need to communicate anything else, even with the tinted windows it was clear to see what had happened and Sam looked almost as angry as Bucky did. He looked like he was going to slam his car door shut as he hopped in the driver's seat but at the last moment he caught it and quietly closed it.

“Is there anything important you need Sam to find?” Bucky asked as he started the car but you shook your head.

“I don’t have anything.” You admitted as you clung to your seatbelt. “Just my clothes.”

“No family photos?”

You shook your head, you weren’t allowed to keep anything and you had stopped trying after he destroyed what little you had. You sank low into your seat as Bucky pulled into the compound and the gates opened automatically for him. You didn’t want anyone else to see you like this, you didn’t want the questions that came with it so when he came to a stop in the basement you weren’t ready to move.

“You can have my room. The bed might as well get used by someone.” He offered as he sat along with you after turning the car off.

“Why are you being so nice?”

It sounded ruder when you asked it out loud but it was pure curiosity and he turned in his seat so his body was facing you.

“You used to leave meatloaf in the fridge on my floor. It took me a while to realise it wasn’t on anyone else's.” He answered with a small smile. “I wasn’t ready to handle being around so many people in the mess hall but you were the only one who noticed. You went out of your way to be nice to me when no one else did. You deserve someone who treats you like royalty, doll.”

Tears spilled down your face as every thought in your head told you it was just another mind fuck and he sighed as he saw you weren’t ready to hear the truth yet. The thing with Bucky was he had time and he had patience, he was willing to spend both on you until you saw what he did. Getting out, he walked around the car and opened your door.

“No one will bother you here.” He said as he held his hand out to you. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You looked around and found the basement empty before taking his hand, taking a small amount of comfort as he laced his fingers loosely in yours. “Friday, 4th floor, and no stops.”

Bucky stuck his head out into the 4th floor, finding it empty, before he led you to his room and opened his door. You stepped inside before feeling his fingers slip from yours and he stayed in the doorway. Your eyebrows pinched as you wondered why he stopped.

“Is there anything I can get you?” He asked as he checked he had left his room tidy that morning.

“I…” You looked around the unfamiliar space that was uniquely his until you were back facing him. “I…don't want to be…left alone.”

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, hanging his jacket up on the hook behind the door. His boots were kicked off next and he lined them up beside his other pairs at the bottom of his closet before turning the blankets down and taking a seat against his headboard. “Do you want to watch some tv?”

You nodded and took your own shoes off, placing them next to his and climbed onto the other side of the bed. The mattress was so much softer than yours and he pulled the blankets up over your legs, the fluffy sheets quickly reminding you how numb you had been and you shivered as your body came out of the shock you were in. You apologised as you jumped at his touch but you quickly relaxed under his arm that he placed protectively over your shoulder.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt safe in someone's arms, perhaps it was something you hadn’t experienced until you felt him pull you closer. You could finally relax, you were safe and your body and soul knew it as years of exhaustion caught up with you. Your eyes were closing before he had even found a film to watch and your head lolled into the crook of his neck. The last thing you felt before you were pulled into a peaceful sleep was a whisper in a language you didn’t recognise and the soft touch of his lips on your forehead.

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I want a BUCKY BARNES TOO !!!

Lost and then Found pt. II

Imagine being taken by HYDRA. After years with them, they set you loose on someone you haven’t seen in a while. Unfortunately for HYDRA, you weren’t as susceptible to their mind experiments like they thought. Now away from their influence, your only worry is making sure you’re prepared for your baby to enter the world.

Words: 11.3K Author’s Note: I won’t say I don’t like this because there are some parts in here that I absolutely adore. However, it is rushed and it feels forced to me, but I needed to get this out so here it is. Also, I’ve never experienced childbirth so please ignore my mediocre take on it. Haha.

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Well hello people who can think in their heads! I can’t !

So basically I can fonction without making sentences in my head and sometimes I force myself to actually think. And also when I read or write something there are no voices in my head.

This is earth shattering, I can’t believe there are people, who don’t think in sentences??? What the fuck is an abstract non-verbal thot? Y’all hoes think in Pictionary???? What the fuck

Safe Place

Summary: You are Bucky’s safe place. Well your boobs are. 

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, mention of boobs

Word count: 317 short but sweet

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

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It all started on a sunny Tuesday. You and Bucky were currently laying on the sofa in the common room of the tower, Bucky was laying between your legs, his hips were on yours pining you down so you couldn’t move, not that you want too anyway. 

It was a bad day today. You knew it was because he was like a lost puppy dog following you around all day begging for his safe place.

And that’s how you ended up pinned under a super soldier, with his face gently nestled in between your boobs while you were reading your book. A comforting silence washed over you both, making Bucky sigh with calmness. His hands trying to go around you so he could be closer, so you arched your back slightly to help him and relaxed when he connected his arms.

You heard a muffled “thank you” causing you to giggle slightly at the vibrations in your chest.

“You’re most welcome bubba.” You whispered, kissing the top of his head as to not disturb the peaceful silence between you both.

It was a little over an hour when your silence was interrupted by the ding of the elevator, causing you to look up from your book to see Sam walking out with his head in his phone.

“Hey.” He greeted, doing a double take. “What is he doing?”

“Hi, Sam.” You greeted back, smiling at him, and then going back to your book. “It’s not a good day today.”

Sam nodded understandingly, hearing a muffled “piss off pigeon” causing him to shake his head as you giggled again from the vibrations.

“Feel better soon, Tin Man.” Sam called before walking away, making Bucky growl into your chest.

“Hey. Less of that.” You scolded playful as he whined, snuggling into your boobs more and sighing happily.

He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

You are Bucky’s safe place.

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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?”

PSA! you don't have to have smut in your fic to make it good.

My heart is genuinely beating so hard right now!!! I think I might die from happiness!!!

Enamored [34] - The Masquerade

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: Anything can happen at a masquerade.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules.

Word Count: 5500

Series Masterlist

You had always loved masquerades.

Picking a costume and a mask was almost as fun as the ball itself and now that your costume was here, you could hardly wait until the ball tonight.

When you woke up the next morning, the whole house was buzzing. The preparations were almost over, but of course there were always last minute changes and Aunt Lavinia had insisted on supervising everything with Cecily. Instead of sitting down to have breakfast, you just grabbed your plate and made your way to the ballroom, humming a tune to yourself. If your mother were here, she would have surely scolded you for carrying your plate around and not eating while sitting down, and yet, you were curious to see how the ballroom looked.

And as soon as you got there, you held your breath, stopping dead on your tracks.

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Oh I am such a slut for Bucky Barnes fuck

                     𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

summary ─ in this underground bar, you didn’t imagine you’d find a lover. you never imagined you’d find yourself a demon lover. 

pairing ─ demon!mobboss!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ smut, +18, kissing, biting, rough sex, pet names, dirty talk, oral sex, drinking, sort of fwb relationship, everything that happens in this fic is consented, supernatural creatures

a/n ─ this fic happened bc of a mf called sebastian stan. that flaunt magazine photos are so *drooling emoji*. i’m so sorry. i’m shit at endings lmao. i hope you like it! please leave a comment if you do! thank youu <3333 

moodboard for this fic courtesy of @bonky-n-steeb​

You were dragged into the Underworld with the excuse of Wanda’s birthday. Your friends had said that they found a way to get in Underworld without a big name pitching in for you and that they wanted to throw a little party for Wanda there. Everyone had agreed because it was the perfect timing. She had been wanting to Underworld, but you couldn’t find a way to do so until now.

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