(slow burn, endgame, as in youâll be seeing some short term pairings here and then as well)
MODERN DAY AU
Word count: 3,512
Warning: cursing, a little self-doubt, not much else really
Summary:  Life threw you a curve ball when you walked in on  your long term  boyfriend making out with someone who definitely wasnât  you. Since  living with him was no longer an option, youâve ventured out  at the  advice of a work friend and found the absolute perfect loft to  reside  in. The only issue?
You suddenly have four very odd roommates.
[04]: BE NICE
It was late when you got home from your fourth date with Pietro. So far, Scott Lang was two for two because you really liked the quick witted man he gave your number to. Pietro was funny, made you feel seen, lighthearted, charismatic, and, by God, was he handsome. Enough so that you thought you might be ready to invite him to the loft. That was a good fifth date, right? A home cooked meal? Now, you just had to learn how to make a home cooked meal.
As you tiptoed further into the loft, Bucky suddenly sat up from where he was lying on the couch. You tilted your head curiously. He was in his pajamas and had bed head, but he was not in his bed. You pointed at him, âAw, are you and Sam fighting again? Havenât you heard? Youâre not supposed to go to bed angry with each other.â
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Summary: Itâs said that when someone graduates from military officer training school, the cadetâs girlfriend, or "kaydet," traditionally wears their significant otherâs Pershing cap. However, wearing a cadetâs dress cap carries a different meaning, it signals the need to kiss the cadet who owns it. This wouldnât be an issue if you were dating Buckyâbut you weren't.
AN: thank you so much for the positive response to You're Losing Me! I haven't wrote in a bit and have been trying to change up how i write so hopefully i find time to write again.
This is is an old one reposted from my AO3 so my writing style here is a little different. I think reading back to this, i prefer to use 'you' rather than 'I' when writing, feels more natural to read idk, what about you? Anyways, i hope you enjoy :)
A Pershing cap, a sign of authority. It was one of the best ways to determine who was in the army, determine who were the men I shouldn't be attached to.
When Bucky and I first met, I didn't know he was in the military.
He was bright smiles and respectful when he came in the diner. Working at the diner has given me enough experience with military men to know I never wanted to be involved with them. But Bucky was different, he brought a scrawny blonde boy-Steve, with him who had a huge cut on his lip and probably an impending black eye forming, and ordered milkshakes while holding a first aid kit. He was gentle and lightly scolding the scrawny boy for getting into another fight as they settled on a booth by the back. If the diner wasn't so busy, I know the other girls would be fighting to serve his table but life has a funny way of working because it was me who ended up serving his table.
And he kept coming back. Sometimes he was alone but often times with Steve who as I learned had a heart of gold. Steve often got into fights despite his size because he stood his ground to help anyone. As the two kept coming back to the diner, I found myself forming a frienship with the two which was how I found myself here.
It was Bucky's military officer training graduation. Despite our friendship only forming for less than a year, Bucky made sure to invite me to watch him receive his honor with his mother, sisters, and Steve.
As the ceremony finished, Bucky approached us with a smile. Hugging his mother first, his sisters, Steve, and finally me.
"Glad you could make it doll" he murmurs to my head as his sisters talked to Steve
I give him a small smile, feeling uncomfortable at the big crowd, "Wouldn't miss it for the world"
He smiles and places the cap he has been wearing that matched his uniform on my head.
"Barnes" an older man calls out and puts his hand on Bucky's shoulder as Bucky greeted him
"General" Bucky says with a smile, fixing his hair-a nervous tick of his.
I stepped to the side to give the two men a privacy as the General congratulated him saying how he knows Bucky would bring great honor to his country. I frown a bit at his remark, the thought of Bucky being shipped out still a heavy thought that reigned not on my head but also on Steve's. Steve stood to my side, the shorter man told Bucky's mom and sisters to go ahead to the diner and was waiting for me and Bucky.
"What's got you frowning?" Steve inquired looking at the two talking
"Nothing" I say a little too quick
Steve laughed before looking at me "You know it's easy to tell when you're lying", he crossed his arms over his chest with a smile "Bucky told me some of your tells"
I grumble in response, adjusting the cap Bucky put on me lower as if to hide me from the blonde man making Steve laugh.
Bucky seeing me get embarrassed makes him put his arm over my shoulder "Hey Stevie" he says with a laugh "stop embarassing my girl".
I roll my eyes, feeling the butterflies in my stomach at he called me his girl.
The general laughs joining in on the conversation as Bucky pulled me closer to him. "You know Barnes, it's military tradition that a kaydet wearing your dress cap should give you a kiss. Something about a good way to keep you safe when you're out on the field" he smiled as I feel the heat creep up to my face. "Looking forward to seeing you on the field" the general says giving a salute that Bucky returned before leaving me, Steve and Bucky alone.
"I'll go ahead" Steve smiles before walking away "We'll wait for you two at the diner."
I exhale shakily as Bucky pulls his arm from my shoulder, a soft smile playing on his lips.
"We don't have to," he says his voice calm but warm. I tilt my head in confusion urging him to go on "I didn't even know about the tradition if you were wondering."
Heat flares across my cheeks as the general's words earlier echoed in my head. "It's okay" I say a little too quick which makes Bucky tilt his head as I come closer. My hand makes it's way to the back of his head as I pull him close to my face and kiss his lips, catching him in surprise.
It took a bit but Bucky's hand makes it's way to my hips as he pulls me closer, opening his mouth to kiss me back feverishly with a smile.
We pull back a bit and keep our foreheads close as we catch our breath. I keep my eyes closed as the embarassment of my action gets to me. When I open my eyes, I find the blue eyes that has been the closest I've had to a home staring back at me with a smile as his hand touches my face gently.
"I like you" Bucky breathes out "been planning to ask you out properly, take you to dinner and ask you to be my girl since I met you" he smiles as his hand traced invisible lines on my cheek, looking at me with love "sorry I kept chickening out"
I smile and pull him back for a soft kiss at his confession "I like you too" I whisper as I take his hand in mine.
I gotta agree with you there, I find you alot more natural to read than I in stories for myself. I think the first person is deceptively the harder POV to pull of in any story, as it leans to being an unreliable narrator (unless thats what you going for) and can easily take people out of a story. Itâs really really hard to write thoughts down in first person that down sound strange. THis is all my preference however.
after months of dealing with hate being targeted towards me and my friends, i can no longer bite my tongue and just hope that, through remaining silent on a specific topic, it will go away and fade to dust.
i and many others were hesitant post about this on tumblr, out of a genuine desire to not bring unnecessary issues onto the platform. but, at this point, it seems everyone has something to say about us, despite knowing quite literally 5% of the story and not seeing a single ounce of proof of the claims being made against us. so, since everyone else is allowed to speak, now it's our turn.
back in november, when my friends and i began to receive hate, two writers took it upon themselves to create a groupchat with a few other people, in which they discussed agreeing with the hateful asks we were receiving. this agreement quickly turned into them drafting possible hate to send to us. as though drafting hate to send was not enough, these writers even had the audacity to comfort some of us in our DMS about the hate we were receiving.
(context for the screenshots: 1 of the members of the hate groupchat confirming it's existence to me)
(context for the screenshots: 1) the creator of the groupchat sending me comfort for the hate i had received only hours before creating the hate groupchat. 2) a portion of me confronting them about the groupchat. 3) them admiting to the existence of that groupchat. there are many more messages to this conversation, these are only brief sections.)
(context for the screenshot: an exchange between me and the member of the hate groupchat who leaked and screenshared the groupchat to someone else in bwa)
so no, bwa did not create a groupchat to send hate to anyone, someone created a groupchat to send hate to us. and no, bwa did not send death threats to other writers, death threats were sent to us. we have shared countless screenshots in the past depicting the disgusting things that were being sent to our inboxes, and were then mocked by people for âplaying the victimâ. it is downright evil that the things people have done to us has somehow been spun into this lie where we are now the perpetrators.
i understand that to most of you this doesn't matter, that this is not important. and i agree, i really do. but this whole ordeal has reached a point well beyond us being slandered by people who simply don't like us. since november, i have watched my friends be put through incredibly distressing situations. death threats, rape threats, homophobia and racism are just a few of the things that have been sent into our inboxes and/or directed towards us through anonymous blogs. some people have deactivated, some people have received hate for simply daring to interact with us, some people have abandoned tumblr as a whole, and now we have been made aware that lies are being spread... and all of this is happening over fanfiction.
i'm aware that, in posting this, it's not going to change much. those who believe the vile, baseless, receiptless claims that have been made against myself and others will continue to do so. if anything, they will feel an even stronger sense of hatred. i don't expect people to care about this matter, because it's ultimately a lot more fun to be outraged at a group of strangers than it is to feel an ounce of sympathy for them.
i am not posting this for drama. if i wanted drama, i would have posted about this and tagged those involved the moment this all began back in november. i am posting this because 5 months of constant harassment is now bordering on stalker behaviour and, quite frankly, i no longer feel it's my job to "keep the peace" for the sake of not upsetting anyone.
being quiet has done nothing: we have continued to receive hate, and other writers are comfortably twisting the truth and accusing us of doing the vile things they did to us. this situation has extended beyond just "bwa", the entire community is now riddled with other tumblr users being spoken about horrifically.
everyone needs to lock in and remember that we are all here for the same reason: fanfiction. fanfiction is not a competition, it's not a race we all need to win. it's literally just a hobby. why are we treating it like it is a matter of life and death?
i donât really know how to end this post. i have so much more to say and share, yet i do not want to bring more harm to people, even if they themselves have carelessly hurt so many others. so, iâll end it by saying this: names have been kept hidden in the screenshots out of the scarcely remaining respect i have for the people who made that groupchat and out of hope everyone can just move on, once and for all.
tw!! death/suicide threats. if you've read this and are unaware of the extent of the hate myself and others have received (and are now wrongfully being accused of doing), this is a post i made addressing it back in november. this is nothing new.
This is no ok to do to anyone and is never ok. Cyberbullying is something we to stand against and support those who are victims.
thank you for coming out with this, I know how hard it is to come out with this and how scary it is.
It is easy to say what you want online as you are talking to a screen. Remember everyone there is another person behind the screen that you are talking to that has to receive them. No matter where the words come from and what form they still hurt and wound.
Man This is going to be a bit ranty and Im sorry but I have seen waaaay too many of these kind of posts lately and its got me peeved.
First Im not talking about post that wish for more of a kind of fanfiction/representation/themes or topics.
What I am annoyed at are people making posts about characters going:
âOh this character would never do this.. would never be like this⌠isntâŚ.â
Like ok whats your point? To shame others that feel the opposite, to mark your opinion as superior, tell everyone they are wrong if they disagree? Why? Cause there are going to others that are going to believe the opposite just as certain as you are, and you are just going to make them double down. You are either pissing them off or hurting their feelings but you aint changing minds.
You are kind of ruining the point of fan fiction
fan = Not canon
Fiction = not real
It doesnt have to follow any rules for gods sake. Just dont read it if you dont like it is that simple. Dont shame others or put them down cause they do. Man life can be a hateful place enough without pulling this gatekeeping/superiority into here. In the grand scheme of things alot people already shame us for reading fan fiction in the first place in if you want to get into that area of things.
I have things I don't like in fanfiction am I going to post about it and make everyone elseâs problem that I donât like it. Nooooo. I just donât read it.
Fanfiction is already free my guys, you now want every writer to cater your specific tastes?
There is not set rules or set answer, these stories ain't an essay and you aren't the teacher. Enjoy what you enjoy and let others do the same thing.
If a pal wanna read a character as a sub, a dom, a spouse with 27 kids, a rodeo clown and whatever floats their boat let them.
This should be a safe place for us to escape, unwind and explore things that we havenât and a safe for creators to share. You can have your opinions dont push them on to others.
Lets not make this a place to escape too.
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I have been seeing alot of my favourite writers go through burn out as well as breaks that I wanted to write this love letter in a sense to all fan fic writers out there.
I sincerely thank all of you for the entertainment and stories you have shared with us for free even if they are for your own enjoyment I truely appreciate being allowed to enjoy the stories you crafted with you as well as watching your talent grow.
I want you all to know that whether you are a continuing writer, a writer on break or one that has put down the pen that you are all amazing for just finishing a fanfic in the first place no matter the word count, no matter if it was an unfinished series. You did something and put it out there for others to see, which is hard and scary to do. When there are many ignorant people that treat fan fiction writers as lesser for no reason other than their hate and ignorance.
Your words and stories helped me in my darkest places to not feel alone, distracted me when I needed, made me laugh when I wanted to yeet myself out of a window, inspired me and helped discover things about myself.
So dont feel that you have failed if you dont get an update out on time, dont finish a series, change fandoms, take a break or walk away from writing completely. You are human, you deserve breaks too, you deserve to enjoy the writing process as much as we enjoy the reading process. You guys do this out of your own free time, donât make yourself bleed so we can read sooner.
So to all writers out there thank you for sharing pieces of you in your stories, for creativity, your time and your work
If you see this tag your favourite fan fic writers to give them some appreciation⌠if you don't find the grammar abhorrent nor the writing to cringy.
Edit: probs should added some of my own lul.
Sorry guys if you find this cringe or what have you. I just wanted to say it
@bigtreefest @blowingbarnes @heldbybarnes @deliciousangelfestival @thresher-art @artficlly @superbassbuck @mrs-barnes-rogers-writes @kinanabinks @thyme-in-a-bubble @crowsofdarkness
Summary: Bucky Barnes, your ex-husband, is assigned as your field partner. Forgiveness might be elusive after your messy divorce.
Warning(s): None, except for some cursing.
Pairing: James Buchanan Barnes x Female Reader
Notes: This will be a three-part drabble. I decided to split it because it's too long LOL to be a one-shot. Please enjoy, and I appreciate your feedbacks as always. It means a lot to me!! <3
Link to Masterlist
The sterile halls echoed the clicking of your heels. The folder weighed heavy on your arm with all the papers that held the data you gathered for months. Your job was demanding. It drained you of your time and attention and presence. There were many people to meet. Many places to see. Many experiences that leave a dent on your mind. And none of those were pretty.
The intercom buzzed almost three minutes ago. You were rarely in your office as most months on end, your field assignments saw you through. It was one of those times when your surveillance and investigation on a case yielded something fruitful. A resolution or enough attention.
You steadied your breathing if only to control your heart. A case so big you knew it would attract something. Or someone. Or even a group of someones. The big guys. Earthâs mightiest heroes. Even the thought of them made you want to retreat. It was not them, per se, but a certain individual in that group. Someone you knew so well. Someone you loathed. Someone you wished you would never have to meet again.
But fate always had a wicked sense of humor.
You stopped before a door. On your toes, you swayed a little and looked back at the hallway that seemed to narrow itself. Almost inviting. Luring you to step on your heels and go back the way you came and fake an illness. Diarrhea always worked best.
Your thoughts were cut short as the door swung open from the inside. You were face-to-face with your director. His brows were drawn tight as he cleared his throat. You offered him a smile that looked more like a grimace. With your head held high, he slipped past him and walked inside the room.
Natasha was the first one you saw. Your former confidante. She gave you a small wave and a cat-like blink. You saw Clint, her forever friend, who nodded your way. The last you wanted your eyes to land on was Samuel. You refused to smile at him. He cocked his brow at you instead. You kept your eyes on the whiteboard while you remained standing. You felt the cold creep into your feet and fingers as a gaze pierced through you. From the man across the room. The man you once shared a bed with. The very same man who vowed to cherish you forever yet ultimately broke that promise.
James Barnes. Or Bucky. Or whatever his friends called him now.Â
âI suppose since weâre complete, we can stop with the staring contest.â Edmund, the Director of Operationsâyour supervisorâcoughed and moved to the whiteboard with a pen in hand, âLetâs discuss more pressing matters at hand. Your research, please.â
You looked at the folder in your grasp. You handed it over to Edmund and apologized. You pretended to be busy with your blazer after and fished your phone out of your pocket. It was a lot easier to keep your mind off of his staring. You knew he was what Edmund meant.
Your director discussed what you already knew. The purpose of the brief was for the new team the UN brought to help resolve the case you had been working on. The meeting adjourned after half an hour and you approached Edmund to discuss the next steps. You were ready to fly to Syria the following week. You had all the intel you needed. Their local law enforcement was more than ready to assist you based on your latest correspondence.
âSir,â you said as soon as Edmund gathered all the papers back. Some remained inside the room, while others were out the door, âIâll be filing my paperwork for field clearance today. Iâve talked to some guys down in Syria and I was greenlit.â
âI know,â Edmund took the folders up his arm and sighed, âI was informed by a liaison. But thereâs a change of plans. You see these guys over here, right? Theyâll be with you on the ground. Donât worry about the other guys. Iâll handle it.â
You paused. The sudden news had you off-kilter. Since when were things arranged before your notice? You leaned your hand on a chair. A chuckle went past your lips. âHow⌠when⌠when did this happen?â You drew closer to him and lowered your voice, âI thought they had other assignments?â
âWell, most of them have. Only one of them will guide you.â Edmund shrugged. âAnd⌠itâs all in the past, isnât it? Weâre all professionals here. Surely you can work with your ex-husband.â
The world could swallow you whole. The last sentence from his mouth knocked the breath out of your lungs. You blinked. Your lips parted and your eyes finally shifted to the man unmoved from his post for almost an hour. There was a smirk on his face. You bit back your snarl and turned to Edmund. âOh, hell no, Ed.â
Edmund showed his palms and snorted. âHeâs got a metal arm. What more do you want?â
You were left aghast as he walked past you. The slamming of the door closed you in on the realization. You calmed your measured breaths and looked at him again. Your hands found your hips and you scoffed. Your nightmares were coming true.
âTwo years, huh?â His voice filled the empty space. You heard him move. âUN Investigator. The title sounds good.â
You pinched the bridge of your nose and huffed. âYou know we donât have to talk, right? We donât have to pretend. We could just close our mouths and be⌠civil.â
âOh, but I wanna talk,â his response had you staring at him. He had a tight smile on his face that emphasized his crowâs feet, âItâs really important to build rapport with your partner. Something Iâm not really surprised you still lack.â
He made you scoff again. The gall of this man. âMe? Lack⌠in rapport? Are you sure about that? The last time I remember, you lacked rapport. You lacked communication skills. You never wanted to talk. Hell, Iâm really surprised you could open your mouth now. Two years did a number on you, James.â You shook your head, âGood for you, man.â
Your eyes tracked him as he moved nearer. He tilted his head as he stood in front of you. His smirk was gone. There was a glint in his eyes you could not explain. You had not seen him in two years. You made sure of that. But he was right there, in the flesh, still the same and yet entirely different from the man you once knew.
Bucky sighed as his eyes bore into yours. There was a beat before he spoke again. âI missed you.â
Your face scrunched. A maniacal laugh went past your lips. You stopped when you saw him unfazed. You snapped, âShut up. How dare you say that.â
You stared him down before you turned on your heel and left him standing alone. I missed you? What stupidity was that? How could he be okay with the arrangement? Two years of no contact, and he blurted out he missed you as though it was the most normal thing to say. You stomped through the hallway and into your office. You locked your door and sat on your rolling chair. You caught your breath as anger warmed your chest.Â
đđŽđŚđŚđđŤđ˛: At Velmythria Academy, among creatures much larger and more powerful than yourself, you unexpectedly cross paths with the imposing werewolfâ Bucky Barnes. Leaving you questioning the rules of the realm.
đ/đ: I'm back, babies! - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - Bethiee x
The hallways were crowded, and students rushed to their next classes. You were lost in your thoughts as you rounded a corner, and before you knew it, your path collided with something large, and solidâ Bucky Barnes.Â
   Your shoulder barely grazed his large forearm, but the impact felt like you walked into a wall. The wolf never glanced down, no acknowledgment of the collision at all. Bucky kept walking, long strides carried him through the crowd. It was as if he was a boulder in a river, the sea of students parted without a second thought.Â
   Involuntarily, your wings fluttered, and heat rose to your cheeks. You stood frozen for a secondâ had he not noticed you? Before you could process the small event, two familiar voices broke through the rush of the hallways.Â
   âHey, you okay?â Your best friend's voice, Wanda, was warm yet a little breathless as she skidded to a stop beside you.Â
   A formidable witch, Wandaâs long, brunette hair was threaded with strands of shimmering red chaos magic. Fluttering around her ankles, her cloak's soft, deep red fabric was imbued with protective runes that had a slight glow with every move. There was always a sense of subtle humming of power around her. Her emerald-green eyes scanned your face with concern, they were sharp with a sight only a witch could possess.Â
   âY-yeah, Iâm fine. It was justââ Even though your heart pounded, a little too fast, you waved off their concern. Sneaking another glance over your shoulder, you noticed Bucky had now disappeared from the crowd. âItâs nothing.â
   Frowning slightly, Wandaâs gaze followed yours, narrowing her eyes with suspicion. âNothing, huh?â she said, her tone soft but probing as if she could sense the shift in the air. âYou donât look like it was nothing.âÂ
   Another voice joined the conversation before you could respond.
   âPfft, werewolves,â Steveâs voice, lilting with the cadence of the ocean, waved from your right. He weaved through the crowd, his blonde hair, and crystal blue eyes shimmering as he sidled up next to you and Wanda. âTheyâre all like thatâ zero spatial awareness. Just barrel through life without a care in the world.âÂ
   A faint sheen of water still carried against his skin, and you could smell the salt on him. Iridescent scales clung to his skin, sparkling under the hallway lights, peeking from under his enchanted tailored jacket. His fisk-like tail had already shifted into his legs.
   With a quick glance between you and Wanda, Steveâs smirk widened as he crossed his arms over his chest. âYou practically bounced off Barnes.â
   Huffing, you felt a bit embarrassed that your friends had witnessed the whole thing. âI barely grazed him,â you muttered, though the heat rushing to your cheeks betrayed the casual tone you tried to maintain.
   âItâs typical, really,â Wanda said, shaking her head. âWerewolves tend to have the sensitivity of a brick wall.âÂ
   âYeah,â Steve added with a scoff, âand Barnes is the biggest brick wall of them all.âÂ
   While Wanda and Steve went back and forth, your mind wandered back to the subtle touch. Had he not felt anything at all? Yeah, you might be small compared to him, but surely he felt some sort of impactâ or was he simply choosing to ignore it?
   Students began to rush with even more urgency around you as the bell rangâ signaling the end of the passing period and the start of the next class. The three of you exchange a knowing look before hurrying along to your separate destinations.Â
   Later that day, you entered your last classâ History of Velmythria Creatures. There was a low hum, buzzing with voices, and other languages. Glancing toward the back of the classroom, you noticed Bucky sitting as massive and unbothered as ever, scrubbing something on a sheet of parchment. You slipped into your usual seat, heart still racing, unsettled from your earlier encounter with the wolf. He was completely absorbed in whatever he was writing, seemingly not noticing your small form once again.
   The professor stood at the front of the room, and she wasted no time. Her voice was rich, commanding, and effortlessly cutting through the murmur of conversationsâ A dark gleam of wisdom within her eyes.Â
   âAll right, settle down. The discussion today is regarding your upcoming assignment, and trust me, this is not your typical assignment. For this project, you will be paired with a student of a different species from your own.âÂ
   The room fell eerily quiet, curious glances darting around the room.Â
   âThe purpose,â the professor continued, âis to gain a deeper understanding of the cultures, traditions, and perspectives of the other species here at the Academy. You and your partner will be required to fully immerse into the otherâs worldâ learning about their customs, history, strengths, and weaknesses. Then, you will be expected to present your findings to the class by the end of the term.âÂ
   The words hung in the air heavily, and you could sense the tension rippling through the room as the other students exchanged uncertain glances. Diving into another speciesâ world wasnât a custom of the realm, many families were shocked to find out that they still allowed multi-species education. The Storm family, mostly your blood-faerie fatherâ Lloyd, also had these beliefs.Â
   With a flick of her wrist, there was a summon of a large, enchanted chalk hoovering to the front of the room. It glowed with a faint ancient magic. Moving with purpose, the chalk began scratching across the surface of a board with an almost musical sound.Â
   âShortly, all the pairings will be revealed,â the professor announced, a grin subtly playing on her lips. âThe chalk will list your names and species. Pay attention.âÂ
   The chalk wrote the names of the students in a neat, flowing script, each pair listing alongside their species. There was a collective breath held as name after name appeared on the board.Â
   As the chalk continued, your heart rate quickened. It felt like an eternity waiting, but then, you saw it.Â
   James Barnes - Werewolf
   Your stomach dropped, and you blinked while staring at the board. There it wasâ clear as day. Your name, along with your âfaerieâ title, beside his. A storm brewed within you, yet the room didnât notice. Surely, you thought, this was just a bad joke. You were barely over five feet, how were you supposed to âimmerse yourselfâ in his world? His kind? He was a towering wall of pure muscle and raw power, just the thought of having the smallest interaction with him again was overwhelming.
   âEach pair will spend time together outside of class,â the professor continued in her instructions, âobserve each otherâs behaviors, ask questions, and learn. Delve into things that make your partnerâs species unique. Look past the facts and figures, truly understand the why behind the actions, the beliefs, and their place in the realm.âÂ
   Her words barely registered as you stole a glance toward Bucky. His body language was as relaxed as ever, blissfully unaware of the anxiety building in your chest.Â
   âBy the end of the term,â the professor proceeded, â you will present a joint presentation, with a full report. Complete it with your findings and experiences. Also, this will be a significant portion of your end-of-year grade. I suggest you take it seriously.âÂ
   With a clap of hands together, the professor stopped the enchanted chalk moving. âThatâs all for today. You may begin your research with your partner immediately. Good luck⌠youâll need it.âÂ
   The sound of conversation and shuffling paper erupted throughout the classroom, yet you stayed frozen in your seat, staring at the board. You willed the names to disappear. Your trance only broke upon hearing the scrape of Buckyâs chair against the floor.Â
   Swallowing hard, you felt the weight crashing down on you. Werewolvesâespecially alpha wolvesâwerenât exactly known for warmth or willingness to engage. How were you going to approach this project?
   Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Bucky stood and in a brief moment, his gaze met yours. There was no expression on his face as his eyes flickered between you and the board where your names pair together. No surprise, no frustration. He was calm, with that same collected demeanor.Â
   Before turning to leave the classroom, he gave you a slight nod, nothing more. His footsteps were heavy and unhurried as he walked out. It was as if a hex had been broken around you, and the rest of the students returned to life around you, your breath finally returning.Â
   âWell,â Steve said as he suddenly appeared at your side, the blue in his eyes gleaming, âlooks like youâre in for an interesting time.âÂ
   Smirking, Wanda joined him. âYeah, this is going to be⌠fascinating.âÂ
   Still staring at the door, you kept your gaze on where Bucky had disappeared, a tight knot forming in your chest. You exhaled, almost silently, feeling the weight of what was ahead of you. This was going to be more difficult than you ever could have anticipated, by far.
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Man I like enemies to lovers tropes but sometimes I wish for reader to not be the first one to cave. For the friends to be called out on the pressuring on the reader just not knowing her feelings and hearing the character say that they only loved the reader when sometimes in the stories during that time they are sleeping with alot of people and that doesnt get mentioned, what I mean by that is you say you are trying to woo a girl while sleeping with other people. In one I just which was bucky x reader, enemies to lovers soulmate au. Natasha was one of the friends that was pushing then talked about them hooking up with barnes then said good it was. Giving me whipash god damn if you say reader has feelings why the hell are you bragging about sleeping with him and how good it was > - >.
Anyway thats my rant, probs just need a break from the genre. But it would be nice to read a enemies to lovers that had a different angle i guess.
marvel viking / historical au
jarl!bucky x jarl's daughter!reader
Your twin is dead. Your home is full of strangers. Now your father wants peace, and you are the priceâmarried off to the Jarl Bucky, a man who is your sworn enemy.
Tags: 18+ content minors dni, arranged marriage, forced proximity, enemies to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut (in later parts), viking au, historical au, christian vs pagan, violence and death. grief, mourning, norse gods, mentions of witchcraft and magic, alcohol, arguing, bickering, no use of y/n, header does not represent reader's appearance, probably a lot of historical inaccuracy lol, lmk if i've missed anything
Word Count: 3.6k
A/N: hello! finally getting started on the winner of my 2k now 4k follower celebration poll! this was supposed to be a oneshot but i'm making it into a series. smaller word count than my usual stuff, just a bit easier for me to manage update wise. if you enjoy, please let me know! thank you to @azriona and @societyfolklore for the encouragement to post! thank you all so much. as always, sorry for any typos!
main masterlist | series masterlist
The last time you lit a candle at Freyjaâs altar, the wind from the open doors snuffed it out. A bad omen, the Gythia said. But what of it? A daughter of war could expect no gentler fate.
The Ambarhof stood high above the Skjoldholt Hills, a great hall of timber and stone where the scent of pine and tallow filled the air, and the smoke of a thousand candles darkened the rafters. At its heart towered Freyjaâs likeness, a goddess carved in stone, her sides worn smooth by the touch of countless hands, her base blackened by flame. You had knelt there often, in the hush of dawn, whispering prayers into the stillness. That morning, youâd watched your candle flicker once, then die, the smoke curling around the base of the stone like a serpent.Â
And yet, as the last coil of smoke rose to the roof beams, you felt it. As if some breath, carried on the wind from leagues away, had reached you. The final sigh of a soul untethering itself. Your fingers had gone stiff around the stub of wax, and a weight settled in your bones. A knowing. Something, no, someone had been lost.Â
It was only when the letter arrived, written hastily in your eldest brotherâs hand, that you knew the full significance of that loss. Your twin, your other halfâthough you had not seen him in ten yearsâwas gone. Slain not in battle, not with sword in hand or shield at his breast, but in his sleep. Murdered in his own hall beside the woman he had wed, a wife you had never met, in a village you had never set foot in. His people butchered, his home burned, his bones scattered to the crows. The armies of Saint Edran had seen to it that no glory would find him. No chance to fight, no chance for the Valkyries to come. Valhallaâs doors remained shut, and his spirit was left to wander, bound for the frozen halls of Hel.Â
There would be no burial mound to raise, no stone cairn to mark his rest. His body, like those of his folk, was lost behind enemy lines, deep in occupied land. Your brother, who once shared your cradle, your games, your secrets. Your brother, who had lived as a jarl in his own right, ruling his village, raising a family you never knew. A wife, childrenâall gone, as if they had never drawn a breath.Â
Your eldest brotherâs instructions were clear. No matter what news arrived, you were forbidden to leave Ambarhof, to remain under the protection and guidance of the Shield-sisters of Freyja. The Saintâs armies were combing the countryside, killing any followers of the gods they stumbled upon. And yet blood called to blood, griefâs voice louder than any vow sworn.
So you would go, as duty called, to your fatherâs hall of Hrafnvik. To a home that was no longer your own.Â
â
Many had called your father mad, as they had his father before him. Madness, they said, ran in your bloodâa curse whispered down the generations. Men who read prophecy in storms, who heard the gods in the cry of unseen ravens, who ruled by dreams instead of reason. A family touched by madness. A family that truly believed the Allfather himself had chosen them to rule.Â
But what was a ruler, if not a little mad? You had always been of the belief that any ruler needed a thread of madness in the tapestry of their life, the spirit of risk woven through every choice. A city wasnât kept by sense alone. What was rule, if not a gamble? What was power, if not the courage to wager everything for a prize no man could see? The line of Hrafnvik, chosen by the Allfather, or maybe damned by him.
Hrafnvik was just as youâd left it, and nothing like it at all. As your horse carried you along the frozen road, the city materialised before you from the mists at the fjordâs edge. It crouched like some ancient beast at the mouth of the seaâthe dark timber walls its teeth, the smoke and sting of the salt wind its breath, the glow of fires beyond its eyes.
As a child, you had believed Hrafnvikâs walls would always keep you safe, that your fatherâs ravens watched over every roof and every ship in the harbour. But now the city seemed smaller. The stake wall leaned with age, the docks, once so grand in your memory, were choked with too many ships. The city boiled with life, jarls and their men, horses stamping the muddy streets, banners whipping in the sea wind. Torches flared against the dark. Music clashed with argument. The stench of fish, roasting meats, wet fur and the sour tang of spilt ale thickened the night air. Smoke from a hundred fires hung low, as if the city itself struggled to breathe.
The gates stood open. That, more than anything, told you how dire things had become. Once, no man entered after nightfall without a challenge. Now the doors gaped wide, as if inviting the enemy directly into the belly of the beast. It was the type of confidence, the type of madness, only your father would have.Â
And then you saw it.
Banners lined the streets as thick as a forest, the raven of your father and brothers, Leif, Sven and Torvald. The bear of the west, the axe of the north. But they werenât what drew your eye. The chill of the night seemed sharper. The snow fell heavier, clinging to your furs, to your hair, cloaking you in a creeping dread.Â
A swirl of pale cloth among the dark and bright banners. A wolfâs head, black and coiled, jaws gaping, teeth bared.
Vargheim.
The White Wolfâs banner flew within your fatherâs walls. The men of Vargheim, the enemies your blood had fought for generations, stood now as guests in Hrafnvikâs streets. The old feud meant nothing now. War had driven your father to open the gates to those he once vowed to see burned to ash.Â
You tried to see it as you had as a girl, the walls that once seemed unbreachable, the longhouse that once felt like the heart of the world, the docks where youâd watched your brothers sail with promises of plunder and glory. Instead, you were left with a sickening feeling in your gut.
A hundred jarls. A hundred banners. The White Wolf himself among your kin, at your hearth. For the first time, you wondered if the world itself was breaking apart. If peace were being forged here tonight, it would not come cheap. And whatever price was askedâyou knew, deep in your bonesâyou would be a part of it.Â
You threaded your horse through Hrafnvikâs streets, the mud beneath half-frozen, slick with ice and filth. Around you, the city seethed like a storm hardly held back by the walls. A womanâs laughter, high and breathless, filled the night as she fled down the lane, skirts bunched in her fists. A drunken lover stumbled after her, boots slipping in the muck. The crowd roared with approval, like wolves howling at a kill.Â
Men leaned from doorways, watching you pass. Broad-shouldered, hard-eyed strangers with unfamiliar banners. Jomsvikings. Vikingr sworn to rival jarls. The occasional farmer or tradesman caught up in the storm. Even those whom you suspected to be hired hands lingered, wanderers and berserkers lured in by the promise of blood and silver. War attracted the worst of men, you had long known that. Their eyes followed you, heavy with hunger, with caution, as if unsure whether you were prize or threat.
And there, at the cityâs heart, the longhouse loomed.Â
As tall as a shipâs mastâno, taller. It rose into the snow-hazed sky, a dark mass against the gloom like a ship run aground. The turf roof sagged under snowâs weight, icicles thick as a manâs wrist bristling from the eaves. Icewater dripped steadily, hissing as it struck the torches below. The great pine doors stood shut, barring out the night, like the longhouse itself mourned. No firelight leaked from within. No voices reached the street. The carved pillars at the threshold, once proud with painted ravens, were crusted with frost, their colours dulled beneath grime. Inside, you knew your father hid in the shadows, either consumed by grief or communing with the gods to conjure a plan of attack.Â
He had left the disorder to spill into the streets like guts from a split boar.
Everywhere, men drank as if they might not see the next dawn. Brawls poured from doorways, a bard shouting half a song before his breath was stolen with a punch, a young boy chased after a drove of loose pigs with a stick and a man folded over, vomiting up the contents of his stomach while a group nearby snickered and jeered. It was closer to a battlefield than a city, one of bruised pride and broken teeth. It seemed in your fatherâs absence, the people governed themselves with drink and fists.Â
It was chaos. Absolute, unbridled chaos.Â
It wasnât hard to find your brothers. The tavern bled firelight and noise into the street, hunched low across from the longhouse. Its roof had been patched with hides, drooping under the packed snow, darkened by the belching smoke. Inside, men crowded so tightly that tables and chairs had been dragged out into the streets, dice clattering on tabletops as the drunken crowds shouted, sang and wept all at once. There they were, tucked away at one of the quieter tables on the street, hunched over greasy platters and spilt drink.Â
They looked smaller than you remembered, shoulders slumped under their furs. Worn by grief, or drink, or both. Older too, though of course they were older, you reminded yourselfâyou hadnât seen them since you were a girl. They were sulking and grumbling between themselves in the low light. You searched yourself but couldnât find a lick of sympathy. Pity, maybe. But never sympathy.Â
You swung down from your horse, boots splashing in the half-frozen muck, and crossed the street with the letter clutched tight in your hand. The tavern fell into a hush, even the drunkards holding their breath.
The parchment hit the table with a crack.
Sven and Torvald started like struck dogs, ale sloshing from their horns. Only Leif remained still, as if he had sensed your presence long before you entered the light. He refused to meet your eye.Â
âWell,â you hissed, your voice cutting the hush. âThis is a pitiful sight, isnât it?âÂ
Sven squinted up at you, swaying in his seat with a crooked and loose grin on his face. His beard was a scruffy mess, clinging to his jaw and glistening with ale. He had filled out since boyhoodâbroader through the shoulders, the softness of youth long gone. He was only two years older than you, having barely passed into manhood the last time you saw him, but the glint of mischief in his eye was unchanged. âEither Iâm very drunk,â he slurred, blinking as if to clear his vision, âor there is a ghost standing before usââ
He swayed, his elbow slipping in a puddle of ale, and for a moment, you thought heâd topple clean from the bench. Laughter bubbled in his throat, but it died as quickly as it came as Torvald shot him a look.
âThat is our sister, you foolââ Torvald muttered, though his voice lacked conviction. His eyes raked over you, as if he too was debating if you were made of flesh or spirit. He was nearly identical to how you remembered him, though he sported a new scar through his brow. The sides of his head had been shaved down to reveal the ink across his scalp and neck, the little hair he had left tightly braided into a coil that reached his back. His fingers drummed the table, restless, as if searching for words.Â
And then Leif, as stern and abrupt as he had been in his letter.Â
He looked up at last, and for a beat, the breath froze in your throat. The firelight carved his features into shadow and flame, and in that moment, you saw your fatherâs face staring back at you. The set of the jaw, the weight in the eyes. He was the most well-groomed of the three, his wife was obviously ensuring he maintained appearances in line with his status as heir to Hrafnvik. His hair, darker than you remembered, was bound back with a leather cord, the knot tight, the strands clean and orderly. His beard was full, neatly kept, with no patch of stubble out of place. Even his posture, shoulders square, arms folded across his chest, made your gut twist. He had grown into the man your father had raised him to be. And for the first time, you wondered if you were a stranger at this table.
âWhat are you doing here?â His voice was low, and it scraped like a whetstone on steel. It held no warmth, no welcome, only the heavy weariness of a man who had run out of patience for surprises.Â
Sven gave a soft, hiccuping laugh that soured into a groan, rubbing his face with one calloused hand. âGods, Leif, let her sit. She looks half-frozen. Or are we to stand on ceremony while the world burns?â
Torvald grunted, sliding a bench out with his boot.
You didnât sit.Â
âMy brother is dead,â you began, voice taut, âand you thought it best to inform me by note?â
You leaned in, knuckles whitening where they pressed against the table. Sven shifted with a loud gulp, edging away until his shoulder knocked into Torvald, who sat still but tense, his eyes flicking between you and Leif like a man awaiting the clash of swords. Leif, meanwhile, didnât so much as blink. He stared at you, unmoved, as if trying to measure how much of the girl he once knew remained in the woman standing before him.Â
âYou couldnât have come yourself?â you demanded. âOr sent someone with enough spine to speak the words aloud?â
Leifâs jaw clenched, the muscle jumping along his cheek. His voice came quiet and composed, controlled, but only just. âI went against our fatherâs wishes by sending you that letter. I did you a favour, you should be grateful. I had hoped you were old and wise enough to understand that by nowââ
âMy brother,â you cut over him, louder now. âMy twin brother is dead, and Iâm to be grateful for a scrap of parchment?â
You saw the exact moment his composure shattered. The flare of disbelief quickly made way for anger. Leif surged to his feet, his palms slamming flat against the table with a dull thud that rattled the empty plates.
âFather didnât want me to tell you at all!â Leif snapped, voice like thunder. âHe feared youâd do exactly this, return home and cause a sceneââ
âIâm not causing a sceneââ
âYou are causing a scene!â Leif roared, and you recoiled like you had been struck.Â
The tavern had gone deathly still. Tankards hung mid-air. Dice lay abandoned. Men turned in their seats, quiet now, their eyes gleaming from shadowed corners. The only sound was the low whistle of wind slipping through a crack in the eaves.Â
You straightened slowly, drawing your shoulders back, but the tremor lingered in your spine. Not far behind Leif sat a table of strangers, all crowded at the darkened edge of the alley. One of them, broad and silent in the half-light, watched you for a flicker of a moment. Then, just as quickly, he looked away.
You had a sudden creeping feeling that, despite you not knowing a single face in this tavern besides your brothers, all the men certainly now knew who you were.Â
It was Leif who caved first, voice softening, as if suddenly aware of the weight of unseen stares. âIt is not safe for you to be here. You were safe back at Ambarhof with the Shield-sistersââ
âOh, please,â you scoffed. âDonât tell me Fatherâs filled your ears with curses and tales of seiðr. Spare me.â
âIâm not speaking of witchcraft,â Leif ground out. âIâm speaking of the war.â
âThe war?â you repeated, incredulous, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. You glanced at Sven and Torvald, hoping for a glimmer of sanity, but both looked away, suddenly very interested in their drinks, in the cracks on the table, in anything but the argument at hand.
You turned back to Leif. âDo you hear yourself? The war is everywhere. I watched the Saintâs armies march over the Skjoldholt Hills not two days pastââ
âAnd you thought it wise to come here?â Leif asked, brows rising.Â
âThe temple is no safer than the farmsteads. Or the forests. Or here.â
âShe has a point, you know,â Sven muttered, slumping forward, but let out a small yelp as Torvald elbowed him hard in the ribs.Â
âYou shouldnât have come,â Leif exhaled through his nose and rubbed his brow. âBut what is done is done.â
Leif said nothing more, but the lines of his face softenedânot with warmth, but with fatigue. You could see the fight bleeding out of him. You stood there a moment longer, fists unclenching at your sides. For a brief heartbeat, you considered sitting, sinking down at the table with your brothers, just as you had when you were children crowded around the hearth.
Then Sven blinked at you, bleary-eyed through the haze of drink, and tilted his head. âGods,â he muttered, a slow, stupid smile curling at his lips. âYou do look exactly like motherââ
The table stilled, and within the blink of an eye, it was like Sven was suddenly sober enough to understand what heâd said, the horror blooming too late on his face.Â
Torvald muttered a curse under his breath before he hissed through his teeth. âSven, enoughââ
Leif didnât speak. His eyes simply shut, slow and deliberate, as though the sight of you wounded him. His jaw tightened with a click.
You stood there, suddenly exposed, like youâd been flayed alive. Shame prickled across your cheeks. If it had been intended as a compliment, it had struck like an accusation.Â
Did you truly look like her?
It had been so long. And you had been so small⌠your memories of her were smoky, burnt at the edges. You remembered her scent like crushed herbs, the gentle weight of her hands threading through your hair, the low hum of lullabies sung in the old tongue.
But, there was a sharpness to those memories, it slipped beneath your ribs like a knife between bone. For every pleasant and sweet memory, there was a sourness. A knowing of what happened, of what she did.Â
Madness, they whispered. Madness of the Hrafnvik line.Â
It was one of the reasons your father sent you away, among others. Madness that he was so terrified you would inherit. Curses that he was so terrified would pull you into its grip if you remained in these lands. How hypocritical, you thought bitterly, that the only truly mad person in Hrafnvik was your father himself.Â
And yet you were the one to carry the guilt, and a part of you hated her for it. You hated how her choices clung to your name like rot, how, despite it all, you still loved her, even if she left you here, forever in her shadow.
None of your brothers dared look at you.
The moment was lost.
You cleared your throat. âWhy are the White Wolfâs banners flying within our walls?â
The spell of silence was broken, and Torvald groaned low in his throat, dragging a hand down his face. Sven muttered something that mightâve been a drunken prayer to Odin, slumping forward until his forehead kissed the rim of his horn.Â
âSpare us,â he whispered, âjust this one nightâŚâ
Leif had gone still in that unsettling way of his, like a hound scenting danger. His jaw was tight, and his eyes had narrowed to flint-edged slits. âI am not doing this hereââ
You didnât let him finish, nor did you cower. âAnd how many of our men, our kin, have they slain?â
A flicker of irritation passed through his eyes, and his nostrils flared. He answered like a man reciting a fact heâd had to say too many times. âWe are all aware, trust me. But they have lost good men to the Christian armies, just like us. They wish to unite and destroy our common enemy.â
âAnd you chose to believe that?â You scoffed in disbelief. âYou saw the wolves at our door, and just let them in?â
âYes.â
Your breath caught at the simplicity of it. âAnd Father agreed to this?â
Leif gave a slow, bitter nod. âIt was Father who had to persuade me.â
That knocked the breath from your lungs.
You stared at him and saw the strain in the corners of his mouth, the tightness in his knuckles where they gripped the table.
You stepped back like youâd been pushed, lips parting.
âUnbelievable,â you breathed. âLast I heard, heâd have rather cut off his own arm than side with the White Wolfââ
His eyes flicked up to meet yours, unreadable flickering firelight. âMuch had changed since you were last here, Sister.â
You stared at him, trying to see it, the shape of the years between you, the weight of battles he never wrote about. You swept your gaze over the table, unable to hold his stare any longer. Torvald still wouldnât meet your gaze, and Sven was too busy drowning in his cup.
âAnd where is Father?â
Torvald snorted, leaning back in his seat with a grunt that was half irritation, half weariness.
âCommuning with the gods,â he muttered. âWished to be left in solitude.â
You let the words settle a beat too long, then gave a humourless smile.
âWell. The gods will have to wait, wonât they?â
---
hello! thank you for reading, let me know your thoughts! i no longer have a taglist. if you want to keep being notified of my updates please follow @artficlly-updates and turn on post notifications! <3
Series warnings: A/B/O dynamics. Slightly more than my previous A/B/O series. Sorta love triangle. Kinda but not really. Arranged marriage. Smut 18+. Be cool, kids. Iâll add more as I go but for now I think thatâs it.
Word Count:Â 4074
Squared Filled: Free Space
A/N: Another one for @star-spangled-bingoââ 2021! Finally posting the first chapter.  It is sort of modern AU but some typical royalty/medieval aspects are still there because it is loosely based on Tristian & Isolde. I am adding a few medieval accepts but itâs set in modern times.  I donât know, okay? Just go with it. It will also be a little more A/B/O traditional because of that. As always  my beautiful beta @moonbeambuckyââââââââââââ looked this over for me. If you like it write me a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me. I am no longer doing taglists.Â
***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though!***
The southern beaches were different from the northern shores Bucky grew up near. The sand was softer, silkier, if that made any sense at all. Less shells, too, and if you picked the right spot the water was so clear you could straight to the bottom like it was made outta glass somethinâ. There was a different feel to them altogether. It left you with a warm, excited feeling. Something deep in you buzzing with the possibilities of what the waves would bring in each time they crashed against your feet. When George told Bucky to take the summer to get his head on straight, Bucky knew the exact place he wanted to goâ Juno Beach. The last time he was here, he was just a little boy. That was back before everything went to shit; before his grandfather died, before his father took over the throne and before he became next in line to be king and clan alpha. A lot of things changed that winter and none of them have been in Buckyâs favor.
I do not give permission for my works to be re-uploaded or copied in any way or form including translations.
Photo Found Here // Banner Made By Me
Dividers Found Here & Here
Parings: Alpha Bucky Barnes X Omega Reader
Warnings: ABO dynamics, gross alpha male behavior (not by Bucky), insecurities, slight medical talk, angst maybe?
Word Count:Â
Summary: This is part five of the series Matched. Y/n and Bucky continue into the Swan Program and participate in new types of match testing.Â
A/N: Part V is here and Bucky and the reader are finally getting to talk! I am so excited and cannot wait for you all to get to see them interact! A super special thanks to @dadplease for beta reading this for me! If you donât know Eun please go check her out sheâs an amazing writer, and just an incredible human being! If anyone else is interested in beta reading for this series just let me know! Any likes and reblog or sharing of any kind would be greatly appreciated but as always this blog and all of its content is for people ages 18 and up and never do I ever give permission for my works to be re-uploaded or copied in any way or form including translations.
Author's Note: I'm honestly still in my cowboy era and have also been wanting to try my hand at making a series so I bring you this little piece! I have it more less planned and hope you all will stick around and enjoy this ride with me! Happy Readings!
The iron gate is warm under his touch, the rising sun low enough in the sky that the iron railing has now begun to cool. He watches his dark-haired boy run around the âarenaâ; lasso gripped tightly in his small hands as he gives the calf chase. Â
Bucky chuckles smile pulling at his lips as he calls out to his son, âchamp you got to get that rope off the ground if you want to catch âimâ. The boy all but stops in his track, feet throwin up dirt chocolate eyes locking on his, âthe ropes to long daddy, Iâm trying!â he pouts. Â
Clambering off the rails his feet hit the dirt as he makes his way into the gated âarenaâ closing the distance between him and his son. He gets down to eye level, pout still adorning his boyâs lips, âyou, Uncle Steve, and Sam make this look so easy, I donât get what Iâm doing wrong, I'm doing exactly how I see you do it.âÂ
âNot doing anything wrong champ, câmere,â he says pulling his son close. âPut your hand here, and wrap this,â he says adjusting his sons' hands, âright here, make sure itâs tight now, donât want to lose your grip on it and risk that calf getting away from you now.â Â
Grant follows his fatherâs directions, âalright, now that we got the rope secured let's get it above our heads.â He helps his son get the rope going, âsee, youâre getting it, now, I want you to throw it right at that spot over there imagine the calf's just sitting, focus now,â He advises finger pointed to a spot just feet ahead. Bucky watches his son, tongue peeked out of his lips as he concentrates, rope still swinging. It falls quiet for a moment, then the soft thud of rope hitting dirt meets their ears. Grants grin is wide as he snaps his head back to look at his dad, âI did it daddy! I did it!â He mirrors his sonâs smile pulling him in for a bone-crushing hug, lips finding the side of his chocolate locks, âknew you could bud, knew you could.âÂ
âI canât wait to tell Aunt Tasha about it!â the boyâs excitement grows, âwell how about we get a few more rounds of practice in, we still got some time before she gets here.âÂ
Theyâre outside in the arena practicing till the sun begins to dip into the west horizon making way for the moon and stars that have begun to decorate the still early night sky. Bucky leads him and his son from the arena, leaving the calf with his mom in the barn before they make their way to the house. Steveâs truck is parked out front, him and Natasha sitting on the porch waiting.Â
Grant spots his aunt and uncle first, excitement hardly contained as he drops his dadâs hand bolting to the front porch, his auntâs name on his lips. Bucky stops by the front of Steveâs truck watching his son, heâs in Natashaâs arms, raving about his day to them, Steve and Natasha hearing him with wonder in their eyes.Â
âYouâre going to be running circles around the arena in no time bud, put all of us to shame, especially your dadâ Steve teases meeting his eyes.Â
Bucky laughs, âThe day he puts me to shame in the arena will be the greatest day of my life, means I taught him well.âÂ
âWhile we canât wait for the day he puts ALL OF YOU to shame, Iâd like to enjoy my little man while I can, right champ?â Natasha grins hoisting the boy higher on her hip. Grant is taken with his aunt hands curling around her neck as he squeezes her there cheeks mushing together.Â
Thereâs an ache in Buckyâs chest as he watches the scene before him, like the many restless nights he has he canât help but to think in this moment what he could have done differently, what he could have said to make her stay. Heâs her carbon copy, he hates it. She doesnât deserve to have any piece of him, not after she just up and left without so much as a word. Bucky still recalls the urgent call from the daycare asking if anyone would be coming for Grant. He hadnât been able to get ahold of her since that day, not that heâs tried much since Grantâs 3rd birthday.Â
âBuck - hey pal everything good, you sure you still wanna meet Sam at thirsty barrel?âÂ
The brunette is pulled from his reverie, eyes falling on his best friend who has since approached him, he shakes his head, âyeah - yeah pal sorry just thinking.â He looks over Steveâs shoulder, Natasha and Grant waving at him, he waves back, âhave fun you guys, me and little man are gonna have some fun of our own, isnât that right!âÂ
âMake sure heâs in bed by 9, 10 the latest.âÂ
âYeah, yeah, whatever dad, get out of here!â Natasha replies waving them off.Â
Steve and Bucky chuckle making sure Natasha and Grant get inside the house before they clamber into Steveâs truck.Â
âYou sure you feeling up for tonight?â Steve questions him as he turns the key in the ignition. Bucky watches the house, getting a glimpse of Grant through the window, âIâm sure, my thoughts just got the best of me but I'll be fine.â Steve puts the truck into drive, âsheâs not worth it Buck, the day she decided to leave, cut all contact with you, with grant thatâs the day she stopped being of any importance.âÂ
âYeah,â he murmurs eyes drifting out the window as Steve backs out of the ranch, âitâs just I wonder if I had done things differently if she would still be here.âÂ
âYou gave her your all Buck; I donât think thereâs anything more you could have given her to make her stay.âÂ
And though Bucky knows Steve is right, his words donât sting any less.Â
The thirsty barrel was in full swing, the bar packed to the brim. Bucky, Steve and Sam had managed to snag the last remaining booth, drinks being run to their table as they talked business.Â
âSo you find anyone to watch little man when we hit the road at the end of the month?â Sam questioned over his drink.Â
Bucky sighed, he had forgotten, he had been so busy with Grant, with the ranch that he had forgot to look into a caretaker for his son. Another thing he would have to add to his to do list for tomorrow. He shakes his head taking a sip of his beer, ânot yet, been looking around but I haven't settled on anyone yet.âÂ
Sam tsks, âWe have two weeks before weâre needing to head out on the road Buck, and little man canât come with us because of school.â Bucky places his drink down running a hand over his bearded scruff, âyou donât think I know that Sam, I'm trying, just havenât had luck, canât just trust anyone with him either, I need to know heâs going to be safe, cared for.âÂ
âI can ask Natasha to skip this trip Buck, Iâm sure it wonât be a problem, she loves spending time with grant.â Â
Bucky shakes his head at Steve, âabsolutely not pal, I know how much Natasha is looking forward to seeing you ride, I canât ask that of you or her â I'll find someone â I will.âÂ
A damper has been placed on Buckyâs mood despite the change in subject, and heâs quiet for most of the night tuning in here and there when Steve or Sam directs something at him. Heâs there, but not really, his mind drifting to the thought of his son. If Sam or Steve notice his absence, they donât mention it, nor do they push him to converse, they know how hard it's been for him since she left, and they try to do all they can to help him.Â
Theyâre not at the bar long, Sam being the first one to throw in the towel, Steve seconding the notion, Bucky doesnât argue as they pay the tab, each leaving a tip for their waitress. The trio say their goodbyes outside of the bar, Sam promising to stop by the ranch tomorrow to see grant, get some riding time in with the boy, Steve jumps in to join as well. âCan use all the practice, only got two weeks left,â he chuckles.Â
Bucky and Steve see Sam off before they get inside the truck, it's quiet most of the ride home, Bucky appreciates Steve for giving him this. Itâs only until theyâre pulling into the ranch 30 minutes later that he does decide to speak up.Â
âIâll help you find someone for Grant,â he says putting the truck in park, eyes meeting his friends, âmake sure that itâs someone we can trust, the closest to family that we can get.âÂ
Bucky nods, the fear of that not being possible choking him, Steve reaches a hand out laying it on his shoulder, squeezing, âI promise pal, weâll find you someone, weâve got two weeks.âÂ
Two weeks.Â
Two weeks.Â
Buckyâs nodding again, âI appreciate you pal, listen I'll go get Natasha for you, know you two have quite the drive, donât want it getting late for you.âÂ
Steve gives him his thanks watching him get off the truck, make his way up the steps and to the front door. Bucky disappears inside, returning a few minutes later with Natasha. Steve watches the two exchange a few words before sheâs pulling Bucky into a tight embrace more words shared. The two pull away and Bucky watches her as she gets into the truck safely. Â
They all wave one final time at each other before Bucky heads back inside, the lights of his home flickering off one at a time. Steve waits till the last light has been turned off before heâs putting the truck back in drive, making his way out of the ranch.Â
âHow was he?â Natasha questions finding Steveâs hand.Â
âHeâs not doing good,â Steve answers, âheâs worried about leaving Grant at the end of the month.âÂ
âI can stay, you know I donât mind, I can watch you ride anytime.âÂ
Steve looks over to her, âhe already said no, you know he isn't going to go back on his word,â his eyes flick back to the road, âwe just need to find someone he can trust; we need family.âÂ
It goes quiet in the cab of the truck for a moment, Natasha speaks up a few minutes later, âI might have someone, sheâs a family friend, I could have her come meet us at the ranch tomorrow.â Steve gives her a questioning look, the redhead rolls her eyes, âBucky doesnât keep anything from me where Grant is involved, itâll be perfect everyone can meet her, see how she fits in.âÂ
Steve agrees, and he canât help but hope this works out, he didnât want to see his friend hurting anymore, and he hoped with help that he might be the Bucky he was before her.Â
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A.N: Hereâs the new chapter my loves! â¤ď¸ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! â¤ď¸I hope youâll like this chapter as well and please donât forget to tell me what you think! â¤ď¸
Summary: Happy news can make a dinner so much better.
Word Count: 3800
Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, drinking. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I donât condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.
Series Masterlist
âIâm sorry, did you just say marriage?â
You sipped your coffee before shooting Becca and Sarah a grin, then popped a piece of your croissant in your mouth.
âMm hm.â
âYouâre getting married to-to myââ Becca stammered. âTo my brother?â
âYeah,â you said and looked around. âDo you guys think we should get mimosas?â
âWhat the fuck?!â Becca exclaimed. âSince when?â
âItâd better be this morning, Y/N,â Sarah said and you shrugged your shoulders.
âTechnically around 48 hours ago.â
Becca gawked at you. âY/N, Iâm going to kill you.â
âListen, I didnâtââ you waved your hands in the air. âI figured youâd want to hear it in person! Itâs kind of a big deal, you know?â
âJesus ChristâŚâ
âWait, start from the beginning,â Sarah said. âHow did that happen?â
âI had a talk with my dad,â you said, biting inside your cheek. âHeâs going to choose Ian.â
Sarah frowned while Becca pulled back slightly.
âHe made up his mind?â
âMm hm.â
âYouâre sure you canât convince him?â
You shook your head.
âNo,â you said, your stomach doing a tense flip. âI thought I could butâŚhe was very clear. He will not name me his heir, itâs going to be Ian.â
âThat will mess everything up,â Becca said. âIncluding the truce, becauseââ
âBucky wonât do business with him, neither will Sam or Steve,â you finished her sentence for her. âI told my father that but it didnât even make him think twice.â
âGreat,â Sarah muttered, and you shook your head.
âIt doesnât matter what he thinks,â you said. âIâm done waiting around for him to give me a chance. If he doesnât want to give me power, Iâll take it for myself.â
âAnd thatâs where Bucky enters the picture?â
âExactly,â you said. âHe will give me a way in, and once everything is in place Iâll take over.â
âBefore Ian can?â
You nodded your head. âIâll force my dadâs hand if I have to.â
âHeâs not going to like it,â Becca sang in a teasing manner and you scoffed.
âItâs either that or we risk another war between the families,â you said. âTo be honest with you, I donât really care whether he likes it or not anymore. Iâm the firstborn and itâs my right, he promised it to me all those years ago.â
âWhat happens when you take over though?â Sarah asked. âYou and BuckyâŚ?â
âWeâll get a divorce.â
Becca arched a brow and suppressed a smile. âJust like that?â
âYeah, why not?â you said. âHe doesnât want to stay married to me a minute longer than itâs necessary, and I share the sentiment.â
Becca exchanged a knowing glance with Sarah, her smile widening before she turned to you.
âIf you say so,â she muttered, taking a sip of her coffee and as if on cue, your phone started vibrating on the table. You checked the name on the screen, then answered it.
âYeah?â
âHi there, fiancĂŠe.â
You could already tell he was smiling from the tone of his voice and you rolled your eyes, then motioned at Becca and Sarah to give you a moment before getting up from your seat to walk out of the restaurant.
âWhat do you want?â you asked and he tsk tsked.
âBabeâŚâ
âDonât call me that.â
âMy beautiful wife?â
âDonât call me that either.â
âMrs. Barnes?â
âThereâs going to be another last name there as well, donât forget about that one,â you said. âItâs hyphenated.â
âYeah, for some reasonâŚâ he grumbled and you heaved a sigh.
âIs there a point to this conversation? Because if there isnât, Iâm going to hang up now.â
âYeah,â he said. âThere is actually. Before tonightâs dinner, I just figured youâd want to know that your father knows.â
Your eyes widened. âYou told him about the engagement?â
âWhat? No!â he said quickly. âBut he knows weâre together.â
âExcept weâre not.â
âWell fine, he knows weâve been spending time in the honeymoon suit.â
You leaned back to the wall and pinched the bridge of your nose before clearing your throat.
âHe called you?â
âNot yet but my parents did.â
âThat sounds like a fun conversation,â you said, smiling slightly. âWhat did they say?â
Bucky chuckled.
âMy mom just asked how you were,â he said. âThatâs her being subtle. And my dad told me to not fuck it up so, went as expected. Arthur didnât call you?â
âHe did, I just didnât answer,â you said, pursing your lips together. âI donât want to talk to him yet, soâŚâ
âBut are you going to be okay tonight?â he asked and you pulled your brows together.
âWhy do you want to know?â
âCan I not ask about your wellbeing?â
âNo,â your reply came way too fast. âThatâs not on the prenup.â
âJesus ChristâŚâ he muttered and you checked your watch, then pushed yourself off the wall.
âSo youâre going to the restaurant before me then?â
âYeah, I think itâd be better if I got on your fatherâs good side before that conversation,â he said. âConsidering I didnât even give him a heads upâunless you want to go together?â
You scrunched up your nose. âAbsolutely not,â you said. âPlaying the dumbass in love will be even more difficult if I spend more than an hour with you.â
âI think you like spending time with me,â he said with a teasing tone and you scoffed.
âIâm hanging up now,â you said. âDonât be late tonight.â
âOf course, wife.â
âStop calling me that!â you snapped and hung up, then let out a breath.
âI canât believe Iâm marrying this assholeâŚâ you murmured to yourself, then made your way back into the restaurant.
                                                *
Tonightâs dinner was not going to be very easy to handle, you could already tell. Becca had always been too good at reading your mood, so as soon as you two stepped out of the car, she reached out to hold your hand, making you turn your head.
âItâll be fine,â she said before you could even say anything and you licked your lips.
âIt makes it official,â you muttered. âAll of it.â
Becca paused for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders.
âWhat does it matter?â she asked. âIf youâre going to get a divorce eventuallyâŚâ
âOf course we will,â you said. âBut itâs not just that, you know? Starting tonight, Iâm going against everything my dad wants.â
Becca nodded her head.
âYou are,â she said airily. âBut if he didnât want you to take over eventually, he shouldnât have raised you as his heir to begin with. That shit is not a game, he canât just change his mind.â
You pursed your lips together, keeping your eyes on the restaurant.
âPeople wonât be happy about it,â you muttered. âMe being an actual rival, or taking over.â
 âYouâre the firstborn,â she reminded you. âItâs your right. And thatâs what you want, so fuck what everyone else will think. Youâre going to do amazing.â
You stole a look at him, fear churning your insides.
âYou think so?â you rasped out, desperate to hear it out loud and Becca nodded fervently.
âI wouldnât be here if I thought you couldnât pull it off,â she said. âYouâre going to be much better than your father. Trust me.â
You squeezed her hand. âThanks Becca.â
âKeep in mind how helpful I am when youâre picking your bridesmaid gown colors,â she said, making you let out a laugh. âFriendly reminder, I donât like lilac.â
âI know, I knowâŚâ you told her, throwing an arm over her shoulder to press a kiss on her cheek, then you both walked into the restaurant.
As usual, either your father or Buckyâs father had it closed down for the night so that you all could enjoy your dinner without any strangers around. The hostess greeted you and led you to your usual table which was already occupied by Buckyâs family and yours. Your father stood up as soon as he saw you and made his way to you.
âGood luck,â Becca muttered and smiled at him. âHi Arthur!â
âBecca my dear, welcome!â your father said as she kissed his cheek.
âIâm starving already,â she said and went to sit down while your father turned to you.
âSo?â he said. âYou cannot pick up the phone, Y/N?â
You shrugged your shoulders. âI was busy.â
âReally?â he asked. âToo busy to send a text?â
You shrugged your shoulders again, pursing your lips together and he heaved a sigh.
âSweetheartâŚâ he said. âI donât like this, you know that. I understand that we can have our disagreements but moving out of the house?â
âI didnât move out of the house,â you said. âMy stuff is still there.â
âBut youâre not staying there?â
âI felt like a change of scenery.â
âIs that all?â he asked and you cleared your throat.
âSort of.â
âBecause what Iâve been hearingâŚâ he said. âNot to mention, both you and Bucky planning this dinner?â
âI think we should wait for him to have this conversationâwhere is he anyway?â you asked, looking around the restaurant and your father frowned slightly.
âWe thought you two were coming together.â
âHeâs late?â you asked, nervousness shooting through you and your father waved a hand in the air.
âThereâs a reason for that Iâm sure,â he said. âCome on, sit down. We started already.â
âGreat,â you muttered to yourself and followed him to the table and waved at Buckyâs parents Winnifred and George.
âY/N, hello!â Winnifred stood up to hug you and you hugged her back before pulling back to wave at George.
âWe were going to wait for you but you know how your father is,â Winnifred said and your father chuckled, gesturing surrender.
âI donât mind,â you said, sitting down next to Becca as you nodded in Ianâs direction. âIan.â
âY/N.â
âSo, what is this dinner about?â George asked and Winnifred shot him a look.
âGeorge.â
âWhat? Iâm curious. You would think this is a life-and-death situation the way Bucky talked about it.â
âI think we should uhâŚwe should wait for him for that one,â you said and turned to the waiter who filled your glass.
âThe chef is preparing your usual, ma'am."
âThank you,â you said and sat up straighter while George smiled at Becca.
âDo you know what this is about?â
âOf course,â Becca said with a smile. âBut Iâm special.â
âWill this dinner take long?â Ian asked you, checking his phone. âI have plans for 10.â
âYouâre welcome to leave,â you told him but before he could retort, Becca waved at someone by the entrance and you looked over your shoulder to see Bucky walk into the restaurant. You cleared your throat, then pushed your seat back.
âExcuse me for a moment,â you said and made your way to him.
âCharm, heyââ
âWith me,â you said without even stopping and he turned around to follow you out of the restaurant, and you whirled around on your heels the moment you stepped outside, raising your brows at him.
âAre you serious right now?â you asked. âYou were supposed to be here before me, that was the plan!â
âOkay, I know Iâm late but in my defenseââ
âNo no, you saidââ
âJob got in the way, I didnât even get the chance to change,â he cut you off and raised his wrist so that you could see the sleeve of his white shirt. âI still have blood on my sleeve, look!â
âDo I look like your drycleaner from where youâre standing?â you snapped back in a whisper. âYou said youâd come before me, and considering your relationships Iâd say youâre used to that!â
He rolled his eyes. âTo repeat, job got in the way.â
âYouâre late to dinner because you were too busy punching someone and thatâs a good excuse?â
âIt was necessary!â
âIt was necessary for it to be you punching that person, is that right?â
âExcuse me, lovebirds,â Beccaâs voice reached you and you both turned to look at her as she leaned sideways to the entrance. âHave your fight later on, theyâre getting restless.â
You ran a hand over your face.
âAlright,â you said. âSo okay, when are we telling them?â
âMy plate is already there and Iâd rather if you did it right away,â Becca said, pointing back with her thumb. âThey donât look like theyâll stop asking what this dinner is about anytime soon.â
âYou just donât want mom to ask you about Leila,â Bucky told her and Becca shrugged her shoulders.
âI mean would it kill you to do something nice for me?â she asked, making him shake his head slightly. You bit back a smile and threw your shoulders back, trying to get rid of the tension in your body.
âLetâs get this over with,â you muttered more to yourself and made your way back to the table with Becca and Bucky following you.
âGood evening,â Bucky greeted everyone at the table with a smile. âSorry I was late, itâs justâŚwork.â
Becca went to sit down on her seat as you eyed your food, but stood beside Bucky, clenching and unclenching your fist just so that you could focus on something else other than the nervousness pulsing in your veins.
âIs everything alright?â Winnifred asked Bucky and he nodded his head.
âOh yeah, two meetings clashed,â he lied, subtly rolling the sleeve of his shirt up. âThere was a moment of chaos but itâs fixed.â
âSo can we learn what this whole secrecy and emergency dinner is about now?â George said with a knowing smile and you stole a look at your father who looked almost impatient. Knowing them, every single person at the table except Becca thought Bucky and you were about to tell them you were dating, so you were sure that the news was going to be completely unexpected for all of them.
âYeah,â you said, reminding yourself to smile as you leaned sideways to Buckyâs arm. âYou can. Sorry about the secrecy, we just wanted it to be a surprise.â
Ian scoffed a small laugh.
âYou staying in a hotel in his territory might have ruined that surprise,â he said and Buckyâs eyes narrowed but you elbowed him while your father gave Ian a warning glare, making him sit up straighter.
âSo uh, it happened very recently,â you said, ignoring Ian. âAnd normally you would have heard beforehand.â
âFor which I take full responsibility,â Bucky added with a smirk. âThatâs on me.â
âI mean you know weâve had thisâŚstrange dynamic for a while.â
âTen years,â Becca muttered into her wine glass. âNot that anyone is counting.â
âBut once we actually talked to each other, something happened,â you lied through your teeth, Buckyâs arm snaking around your waist as he nuzzled to the top of your head, making your heart skip a beat but you forced yourself to remember that it was all an act. Winnifred pressed a hand on her chest as if she was lost in her emotions while your father and George exchanged glances, both smiling slightly.
âAnd I hope that youâll be happy for us,â you said and waited for a second, then cleared your throat. âBecause weâre getting married.â
The impact of your words was immediate and very visible. Ianâs head shot up as Winnifred gasped in shock and your fatherâs eyes widened while Georgeâs jaw dropped. Becca stifled a laugh, taking another sip of her wine as she leaned back in her seat.
âMarried?!â Winnifred exclaimed as she jumped on her feet. âOh thank God, this is the best news I could ever hope for!â
âTrust me mom, I was as surprised as you are,â Bucky said with a chuckle while Winnifred pulled you into a tight hug and your father tried to pull himself together.
âMarried?â he repeated and you nodded when Winnifred pulled back to hug Bucky.
âYeah.â
âThatâsâŚuhââ your father stammered. âThatâs wonderful news honey but you two have been dating for what? Two days?â
âThree days,â you said helpfully and Bucky hissed in a breath.
âI was going to get your permission, Arthur.â
âWhy didnât you?â your father asked him, looking him in the eye but Bucky didnât look intimidated in the slightest.
âOh come on Arthur, donât be so traditional!â George said with a laugh. âTheyâre in love, and itâs not like they met three days ago. Theyâve known each other their whole lives, I for one have been hoping for this to happen for almost ten years!â
âAnd we already know we want to spend the rest of our lives together.â
âSpeaking of, whereâs the ring?â Winnifred asked, making you and Bucky exchange glances before you turned to her.
Shit.
Of course he was supposed to have proposed with a ring.
âThe ring!â you said. âRight, uhâŚBucky?â
Bucky swallowed thickly and waved a hand in the air.
âThe ring, thatâsâthatâs a funny story actually,â he said. âYou see, we umââ
âMy overly confident brother didnât bother asking the best friend,â Becca cut him off airily, pointing at herself. âSurprise surprise; it was the wrong size. We went to the jewelers today to get it fixed, they said itâll be ready within the week.â
Dear God, you loved Becca.
You subtly mouthed âthank youâ to her while George stood up to come closer to you.
âCongratulations son,â he said as he pulled him into a hug to slap him on the back. âYou sure took your time. And Y/N, welcome to the family sweetheart.â
âCongratulations,â Ian said from where he was sitting and your father sighed, then stood up to hug you.
âWe still need to talk about this,â he said. âBut Iâm very happy for you two.â
âThanks dad,â you muttered as the waiters brought your food and you all sat down. You took your fork into your hand and George raised his glass.
âTo happy couple!â
You and Bucky raised your glasses as well and your father took a sip of his drink, then leaned back in his seat.
âSee, Y/N,â he said. âI know youâre still a bit angry at me but I told you. This right here will make you much happier than what we talked about earlier. Thatâs what matters.â
You arched a brow as Bucky turned to look at you better with a smirk and you stole a glance at him, a sly smile curling your lips as well.
Oh.
Of course your father naively believed that something as trivial as marriage could keep you from what you wanted. It was almost condescending at this point but you managed to hold back the retort, then clicked your tongue.
âOh yeah,â you said, making Bucky chuckle. âI have a very clear idea of whatâs actually important now, and Iâll make sure everyone else sees that as well.â
                                       *
When it was time to leave the restaurant, everyone was in a wonderful mood. Winnifred had so many ideas about the wedding, and as far as you could tell, your father had gotten over the annoyance of Bucky not having asked for his permission.
âSo, are you coming home?â he asked you as George and Winnifredâs car drove off and you looked at Bucky who was talking to Becca by her car.
âMaybe later,â you said with a shake of your head. âMe and Bucky have things to talk about, soâŚâ
Your father hummed.
âAlright,â he said. âWhat do you say we grab lunch tomorrow then?â
You thought for a moment, then shifted your weight.
âSure, why not?â
âGood,â he said and hugged you. âYou know I donât like it when we fight.â
You pursed your lips together. âI know, I know...â
âIâll see you tomorrow honey, please be careful,â he said and got in the car while Ian seemed to be in a deep discussion with Ryan. Ryanâs gaze found you over Ianâs shoulder and you offered him a small smile, then turned your head when you heard Becca say your name.
âY/N are we meeting tomorrow?â
âYeah after lunch,â you answered. âIâve just promised my dad Iâd have lunch with him, soâŚâ
She nodded. âOkay, Iâll text you then?â
âSounds great!â you said as she got into her car and the driver closed her door before getting into the driverâs seat. You looked into your purse, then let out a groan when you couldnât find your phone.
âGreat,â you muttered and made your way into the restaurant, the waiter stopping in his tracks the moment he saw you.
âMaâam?â
âHi again, I left my phone at the table,â you told him with a small laugh and he nodded.
âIâll get it for you right away,â he said and went inside, then in a minute he was back with your phone. âHere.â
âThank you so much,â you said. âHave a nice night!â
âYou too maâam,â he said and you left the restaurant again, then frowned as soon as you saw Ian talking to Bucky by his car while Ryan waited with Ianâs other bodyguards close by. You took a step towards them but neither of them seemed to notice you, and judging by the stern look in Buckyâs eyes, it wasnât because they were having a fun conversation.
ââŚAnd thatâs what she wants in case she didnât tell you,â Ian said and Bucky narrowed his eyes at him.
âI know that.â
Ian shook his head slightly. âDonât get me wrong, butââ
âLet me stop you right there Ian,â Bucky said, glaring daggers at him. âYouâre not going to say anything that I might get wrong about the woman I love.â
Your stomach did a happy flip but you quickly frowned at yourself. It was just Bucky selling this whole idea that you were in love; it wasnât as if you and he could ever fall in love or anything.
Even the thought of it was absolutely absurd.
You cleared your throat to announce you were there and they both turned to look at you.
âHey babe,â Bucky said. âAre you ready?â
âYeah,â you said without even sparing a glance at Ian as the driver opened the car door for you and you got in with Bucky following you suit. You massaged your temples, then leaned your head back when the driver started the car.
âYou okay?â Bucky asked and you gritted your teeth, crossing your arms over your chest.
âThe way my dad talks to meâŚâ you muttered and Bucky scoffed a dry laugh.
âI know,â he said. âTrust me, I get it.â
âI donât think you do,â you rasped out. âGeorge never underestimated you or replaced you with another heir.â
That made him pause for a moment, a dark shadow crossing his eyes before he took a deep breath.
âNo worries Charm,â he said. âHe wonât get to underestimate you again once you get that crown.â
You felt a small smile curl your lips as you turned your gaze to the city lights outside, then heaved a sigh.
âYeah,â you murmured. âI like the sound of that.â
Oh I didn't even think to consider Charm's dad might think she might forget about it know lmao. That will be interesting. Also waht did Ian say to him? I'd really like that from his POV!!
The last part about never underestemating her again yas KING lift! her! up! crush her enemies beneath your feet!
Omg YEEES! đ Like, Charm's father is totally convinced that from now on, Charm will be completely focused on her marriage and future kids meanwhile she's planning on overthrowing him and taking overđđĽ
Ian is already trying to get in between Charm and the possibility of powerđ
Bucky is soooo readyyyy, her enemies are his enemies nowđ
Oh man a perfect response to not worrying about his performance would be â of course I wont, you wont ever be performing for meâ
lululul In loving the energy, like there is the thing ten years ago but you where also sleeping with someone every night while trying to propose to a girlâŚ.and romance her
warnings: mob boss!stepdad!bucky barnes x innocent!reader, dark content (dubcon/noncon, grooming, stalking, violence, murder and other dark elements), mob au, mob called the avengers, tattooed!bucky, age gap, forbidden romance, just filthy nasty twisted porn of bucky moulding you to be his perfect little mob wife