I'm just a little crazy...

My name is Dany but you can call me anytime... ;)

[chrisevansredbelt]

Love and War

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

warnings: SMUT, 18+ only, fluff and angst. fighting. violence. swearing. mob stuff. miscarrying. it’s a lot, like i’ve forgotten half of the warnings probably.

please read at your own discretion.

like 10k words maybe?

summary: where to fucking begin omg. you get hitched to a man in vegas you’d only known for two months. despite this, you’re convinced it’ll be picture perfect, he’s rich and hot and fucks you good. except he’s not telling you something. something that’ll eventually ruin your ‘marriage’.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

“Let’s get eloped.”

“What?” You stare at the drunken man before you, unable to contain the small smile that plays at your lips.

Eloped? You’d only met this guy like 2 months ago. Albeit, it’s probably been the best 2 months of your life.

When you had thought about marriage and settling down with a nice man, you never thought that would mean a very scary yet strikingly handsome, powerful, business man.

Business man. What a big, fat lie for what he really was. A cruel and evil mob boss.

When you’d met him at some fancy party being held at an appropriately fancy hotel, you knew nothing of him. You assumed that every man at the party had some kind of powerful business ties to each other and that getting in bed with one of them could mean a hefty financial negotiation.

That was what usually happened. Every now and then, a party would be held, you’d attend due to your connections that your father had. Your father was no different to the man before you. Only- you had no idea. He kept that part of his life away from you the best he could. He wasn’t completely involved, not a boss at least, but a very good and very likeable lawyer that had just gotten involved with the wrong client.

He- along with your mother, eventually died. A car crash. And ever since then, you had been alone.

Left with a large will, with almost everything now in your name, you managed to get on with your life with the help of friends and few of your parents’ close friends.

But that had to be about 5 years ago now.

Now, with said personal connections, you were permitted entry to many gala events. You never knew what or who they were celebrating, nor did you really care. Your fair share of friends were all there for one thing and one thing only. Well- actually a couple of things.

Sex, money, drinks… and maybe the food. Your more riskier friends were out for men to call their husbands, but they were delusional. No man in these parties were worthy of being husbands. Their heads were to far up their asses and in their own businesses to even notice a woman for anything more than a hole to fuck.

So… What was the exception with him?

“Yeah! Come on. It’ll be fun.” He grips onto your hands, noticing the hint of hesitation plastered across your face, “We don’t have to do all that wedding bullshit.” He scrunches up his face before smiling again. God, you loved his stupid smile.

You’d met him at just another one of these stupidly, useless galas. It was a big gala, something for a Tony Stark? In a big tower named after himself…

Anyway, you had attended like it was no other, actually invited this time rather than just rocking up and being granted entry. However, instead of you actively seeking out the attention of a certain man, sitting at the bar with your friends and collectively observing all the men in the room before spotting one, sinking your teeth into them with your not-so-innocent gazes and not-so-subtle indications to follow you to the bathroom. This time, you were sought out.

You’d seen him when you first walked in. You didn’t recognise him and that would’ve peaked your curiosity had his aura not been too scary for you to even consider him a target. You just knew he was trouble and not the good kind of trouble that you liked. So you steered clear.

Until he came to you. He kind of startled you when he approached you, sneaking up behind you and buying your drink before you could.

Your eyes carefully examined him up close now while he asked some silly little question like ‘what’s a pretty thing like you doing at a place like this?’ something like that.

You would’ve rolled your eyes had you not been so entranced by:

a. his cologne

b. his looming presence over you

and c. his metal hand?

His presence was different to all of the other men that would approach you. No, he approached YOU. On his own will. Unprovoked. And he knew something was going to bloom from it.

Of course, you had let him take you to bed that night. Probably the best sex you had in a long while, plus the biggest house you’d ever been in. Maybe the biggest cock you’d seen as well.

Aftercare was a bonus, if you could even call it that, your hot and flustered body instantly cooled down by his metal arm- which you got to find out was more than just a hand and rather his whole entire fucking arm. You hadn’t dared asked what happened, figuring it was none of your business and for the meantime, it would just serve you well as your own personal ice pack.

He’d made you breakfast the next morning- though to this day, you’re still unsure if he made it or if his cooks made it. He was too rich to make his own food, but he did bring it to you in bed on a tray.

That, was when you truly knew something about him was different.

He had gotten your number before ordering his own personal driver to get you home safely.

Two months later, he was flying you out to Vegas and wanting to get hitched.

And of course, you being the stupid, love struck and slightly drunk being that you are. You were actually considering it.

From the second he called you back and asked to take you out, he had showered you with gifts, affections and bloody good sex.

He took you to all the clubs he owned, hosted useless parties in all his hotels, used his name and reputation to get you both into free shit. Stupid wine tastings, yacht parties, fine restaurants, fashion shows, exhibitions, business expos that you mostly served as a side piece for him while he made business.

But you had so much fun. You would both giggle to each other, mocking the prissy, rich people around you. You’d buy a mini sticker handbook and go around sticking them on peoples clothes and have to hold your bladder as you watched him stick one on top of some bald guys head without being caught.

So much so that, your silly little heart had… actually fallen in love. “Can we still go on a honeymoon?”

He smiles wider now, moving closer to speak against your lips in a half-kiss, “Of course we can, my beautiful wife.”

You bring your arms around his neck and press a long kiss against his lips, “Well, then let’s do it, my beautiful husband.”

You didn’t even wait until the next day. You both just went out, bought his suit and a dress, woke Steve- Bucky’s second in command, and the rest of his crew to watch.

You were a little bummed that none of your friends were here to see it, all back home in New York, but it was an elopement, it wasn’t exactly meant for a crowd.

So, there you stood at the altar, looking into Bucky’s eyes with so much love and mostly lust. The words of the officiant going in one ear and out the other as you both stare at each other like you’re the only two people in the room.

The fat rock of a diamond nearly weighing your hand down. He had used the jackpot money from his previous winnings to buy it early this morning.

It’s only when he asks you if you take Bucky to be your husband, to live together in matrimony, to love, honour and comfort him and to keep him in sickness and health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live, that you finally pay attention.

“I do.” You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to contain your smile.

The officiant nods and before he can even get out the words, “You may-“

Bucky is pulling you towards him at full force and sticking his tongue down your throat. It’s an extremely heated and horny kiss and the sounds of his men whooping and cheering only encourage him more.

-

For your honeymoon, you decided on Europe. Well, it was mostly Bucky’s decision, begging you to go and that it wasn’t a dark and cold vampire continent like you had initially thought.

And he was right. Many places you travelled were fairly sunny and had the most gorgeous beaches.

Your favourites were Positano in Italy and Santorini in Greece.

Even though it was a honeymoon, many of Bucky’s men had accompanied the two of you there. Of course, they stayed in different rooms and took different cars, but they were always around. You’re certain it was for safety, but still… it’s a honeymoon.

And Bucky sometimes left you alone… to go work. You wondered where on earth he would go and what the hell he would possibly be doing. You figured maybe he had connections here? You wondered if that was part of the reason he begged to come here instead of staying in Hawaii for the full duration of your honeymoon. If this honeymoon was just an excuse for his business.

But you pushed those thoughts away when the next morning after he’d left, he’d always treat you with the best sex.

Your time in France was definitely the most romantic part of the honeymoon. Bucky had no business there so it seemed and instead of a big beach house, you had opted for a big, farm house castle in the fields.

Call it a comedown of the honeymoon. No long days in the hot sun, no salty hair, no sandy bodies. Just peace and quiet.

Domesticity, if you will.

There was a granny flat seperate to the house and all of Bucky’s men stayed there. It was big enough for all of them, and by the sounds of it, pretty fun. You’re sure it was just one big man cave and you were surprised at how little time Bucky spent with them.

No, you spent a lot of time together. Dancing, cooking, fucking. The sex was so much better here. It had… meaning? You don’t know what it was, it just felt different.

It wasn’t until one night, as you cooked dinner for the both of you and Bucky had come behind you and placed his hand over your stomach that you realised. You’re unsure if he did it on purpose or if it was purely an accident. But whatever the case, it made you feel… things.

And remember things too. What often came after marriage… on a honeymoon? Kids.

So, that night, as you straddled his lap in bed, your tongues dancing together as you softly grind your hips against his hardening boner.

You pull alway softly, placing kisses all over his face now and speaking in between the breaths you take, “What do you say… we create… the future heirs… of your empire?”

“What?” He softly laughs and you almost roll your eyes at his dense self.

“Babies, Bucky.” You laugh softly, bringing a hand down to grasp his length, missing the tentative look that washed over his face at the mention of kids, “Isn’t that what honeymoons are for?”

He looked at you softer now, sighing a little, “For real weddings. We got eloped, so it’s different.”

Your heart panged with sadness at his words. From the words themselves, the insinuation and also the conclusion that… he didn’t want kids?

You move off of his lap now, not a single part of your body touching him anymore, “So our wedding wasn’t real?”

“Baby, I never said that.” He grabs onto your hands, not missing the way your hands slightly pull back at the contact and he slightly curses himself for the way he’s made you feel, “Our wedding was just different, that’s all.” He tries to explain but it does no justice as you continue to avert your gaze from anywhere but him, “We rushed it. We don’t wanna rush something like this, do we?”

You look at him, observing the wholesomeness in his features and also the validity of his statement, pursing your lips and looking down to fiddle with the ring on your finger, “I guess not.”

“But I promise you, when we’re both ready and when the time is right, I’ll have all the babies in the world with you.” He pulls you closer by your hands and you collapse in his lap as he pulls your chin up to connect his lips to yours, “In the meantime-“

You let him fuck away the sadness that was eating at you that night. You wondered if he really meant what he said. Or if he thought you were just another hole to fuck… only permanently now that you were married hitched.

You wondered if you would ever have children. If his life was ever made for children. If this marriage would even last. You knew about being ‘married to the mob’ and how sometimes it would be more of a business deal, a move-up in the ranks, a sign of maturity. So that led you to wonder again, if he even truly loved you.

Well, from the way he was fucking you, it sure seemed like it.

-

Coming back from the honeymoon, you had moved into Bucky’s massive house, quit your job and took on the role as a loving trophy wife with full force.

You liked it for about a week. After that, you quickly grew bored.

You attended many more galas, this time with him glued to your side. No man even dared to look at you now. Some of them even seemed scared of you. And rightfully so. When you weren’t looking, Bucky would give every single one of them a piece of mind about who you now belonged to.

Your friends hated you for not inviting them to the wedding, but marvelled at the way you managed to pull Bucky. Like you said, these men weren’t made for proper wives. And you were still yet to figure out how Bucky was the exception to this.

Bucky worked every single day, from early mornings to late nights. Whether he was in his office at home, in his office at the tower, it didn’t matter. He was not to be distracted.

Of course, the odd couple of times came around when you had fulfilled that fantasy of interrupting him during work and he had bent you over his mahogany desk and fucked you senseless.

But lately, he’d been having constant meetings with his men, or Steve was in the room with him, or Sam was standing out the front door. Or he was just not home at all.

You knew it was probably just business as usual, but you couldn’t help but be a little concerned.

One night he even came home with a completely blood stained shirt that he’d brushed off completely, chucking it into the laundry room to be washed by one of the cleaners, before joining you in bed.

You asked no questions, just let him fuck all the pent up anger and guilt out of his system.

To be completely honest though, this new life of yours, moving into this big lavish house with a pool, a garden, a cinema and anything else you could think of in a rich persons house, it kept you occupied for a good while. So much so that you often didn’t realise how much time you were spending alone, without Bucky despite being newly married.

And once you had finally explored every nook and cranny of the house, Bucky began showering you in gifts and clothes, shoes and bags, things to further distract you of his absence. Though you already had many shoes and bags, it was hardly enough to fill half of the walk in wardrobe connected to your bedroom.

Your friends had visited plenty and you gave them yours of them house. You planned on inviting them over all year round, especially since by the looks of things, you were probably going to need their company. However, Bucky had explained to you how things at work were getting rough and just for a while, you would need to lay low.

You’re unsure what exactly this meant, if someone was after you specifically or if it was just a threat that Bucky was being cautious of. Either way you had obliged. What you didn’t expect though was to basically be kept on full lockdown until it was safe.

You had picked up every hobby under the sun to fill the time. You rearranged the furniture of the house at least twice a week. You colour coordinated nearly everything- clothes, books, dinnerware, pots and pans. You had read nearly every book in the house, including some of the stupid business/finance books in Bucky’s office.

There were times when he would take you out to dinner, but he always seemed on edge and Steve and Sam were always sitting at the next table over. It felt more like a meeting than a dinner.

Then they had come to an abrupt end and now you can’t remember the last time he had taken you out.

You knew he was keeping you out of his business, but God, it was beginning to be painful. You were just constantly left in the dark, whenever you asked about it, he would just tell you not to worry and change the subject. When you asked any of his men, they would shift uncomfortably and just stutter and stammer over their words until you eventually left the poor men alone.

Men were often stationed at main entrances of your house too so you couldn’t even sneak anyone in or out.

The endless gifts he showered you with were no longer enough. They were meaningless to you now, which pained you to say because they were so expensive, but you knew it was his way of shutting you up.

You would’ve thought he was cheating on you if it wasn’t for the fact that he was always willing to fuck you when he got home. He would also always text you with updates, little ‘be home late tonight, sorry honey :(‘, or ‘leaving work now, do you want takeout?’ or your fav, ‘tony was being a bitch. be home soon <3’

One night, however, he hadn’t sent a text. You were worried, tempted to call his phone or flick a text to Steve or Sam asking if they knew what was up. But you left it. Figuring it was still early and if it had hit 10pm, then you would start making calls.

You still had security on patrol, who would probably know of your husbands whereabouts, but they were at the front gates and you were already nestled in bed and really did not feel like making the trek down there anyway.

To pass the time, you put on a show. Just a few episodes of Stranger Things.

Though it helped to pass the time, it sure didn’t stop you from thinking about him. Every few minutes you’d check the clock to make sure it hadn’t hit 10 yet.

It had to be about 5 minutes before hitting 10 when you heard the front door faintly shut.

You thought he’d make himself comfortable in the kitchen, fixing himself some food or some alcohol. What you didn’t expect was for him to come straight upstairs, eyes half closed and completely disheveled.

You had to hold back a laugh as he fell face forward into your stomach, taking a deep breath as you ran your fingers through his hair. “Long day?”

He lifts his head up tiredly and playfully glares at you, “You don’t even know.” And he dropped his head back down.

You pouted, feeling the weight of his head against your stomach indicated just how tired he was.

“Maybe you should take a day off tomorrow… and we can hang out,” You suggest, fingers now massaging his head and you swear you feel him pur like a cat at the feeling. He just scoffs at the suggestion and you frown, “Do you ever get a day off?”

“Maybe Christmas?” He mumbled and you furrow your brows.

“We’ve barely spent a full day together since our honeymoon.” You note softly, not trying to guilt trip him or anything, just… persuading him, “What’s one day?”

“A lot of fucking paperwork and a pain in my ass?” He lifts his head now and rests his chin in between the valley of your tits, using your right boob as a pillow as he tilts his head and rests against it.

“Yeah, but you get to spend it with you darling wife so it’s totally worth it.” You smile cheekily, and he rolls his eyes, “Just one day and I’ll leave you alone until Christmas… or until I get really needy.”

“You’re always needy.” He pinches your side and you squirm and squeal.

“So, is that a yes?” You ask and he purses his lips for a moment, “Please, please, please, please, please-“

“Alright!” He groans loudly, “Now shut up and let me sleep.”

You smile to yourself as he closes his eyes. Finally! You get to spend more than 24 hours with your husband!

You sigh to yourself in contempt, before realising, Bucky’s still in his work suit and already half asleep. You quickly get to work in undressing him so that he can at least have a comfortable sleep in.

But of course, you undressing him had brought out the horny monster inside him and he was fucking you into the mattress before you could even kiss him goodnight.

-

Finally getting to wake up, via your own body clock and not at 5am by Bucky’s alarm, and be spooned by Bucky, was something you wished you could do every morning.

After fucking each other to sleep last night, you had barely separated the whole night.

Your body clock woke you at around 8am and you were surprised Bucky hadn’t already woke yet. But you were glad to see him at rest for once, he looked like he needed it and he looked so much at peace when he slept.

You kind of spent a good 10 minutes just watching him sleep, admiring his pretty face, before deciding you wanted to surprise him with breakfast in bed like he did for you when you first met.

It was a challenge to untangle yourself from him without waking him but you managed. He was in too deep of a slumber to even notice but that still didn’t stop him from gripping onto you with all his might.

You tiptoed out of the room and down the stairs all the way to the empty kitchen.

Before you had both slept last night, Bucky texted all the house workers and told them to take the day off. Even security were cut short.

It felt somewhat weird coming downstairs to an empty house. There was usually, almost always, another presence lurking around the house, cleaning, cooking or guarding.

It felt nice. Like this was actually your home. Even though it literally is, it just never felt like it until right now.

You quickly got to work in the kitchen, familiarising yourself with all the ingredients. You didn’t know what to cook with all the options you had at hand, so you just made everything.

Bacon and scrambled eggs, pancakes and chopped fruit can never go wrong.

You were almost done, you cooked nearly everything all at the same time so that one thing wouldn’t go cold while you cooked the other.

This was his only day off and probably his only ever chance at a proper breakfast, it had to be perfect.

Which is why when you heard him enter the kitchen, you used every single fibre and might in your body to push him back upstairs.

He had come up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on your shoulder, making you gasp and spin around, “No! Go back to bed.” You reach up and cover his eyes, walking him backwards.

“Why?” He laughs and unclasps your hands from his eyes despite your efforts to keep them there.

You just pout as he takes a strawberry in his mouth, “I wanted to surprise you.”

“I am surprised.” He defends, motioning to the sight before him.

You roll your eyes, going back to the stove top to make sure nothings burning, “Yeah, but ever heard of a sleep in and breakfast in bed? It’s like, better than sex.”

You place the perfectly round pancakes onto the plate, followed by the eggs and the bacon.

When you turn back around, Bucky’s placing spurts of whipped cream onto the pancake before looking down at you suggestively, “What if you combine the two?”

You know what he’s hinting at, but part of you wants to punish him for ruining the surprise… even if it wasn’t entirely his fault, “Bacon and eggs and pancakes?” You ask dumbly, purposely misinterpreting the question. With your index finger, you scoop up a small amount of the cream and bring it to your lips, sucking it off and giving Bucky the best for eyes you can muster and it takes everything in you not to smile when you see his breath visibly hitch at the sight, “I don’t think that’ll taste as good as you think.”

Before you can even blink, he’s bending to pick you up by you thighs and throw you over his shoulder. You squeal and smack his ass as he turns around, grabbing the plate of food and the can of whipped cream before heading for the bedroom.

“Please don’t drop me!” You wrap your arms around his waist and feel his stomach contract and tighten as he lets out a small laugh.

It’s a wonder to you how he manages to walk up the stairs with you over his shoulder and the plate of food in his other free hand. Bucky wonders himself how he managed to restrain himself with your cute ass wiggling against his cheek.

Setting the plate of food onto the ottoman at the end of the bed, he lays you down against the soft mattress and you fall with a soft ‘oof’, smiling up at your husband when you both observe the dishevelled looks you both already wear.

Grabbing him by his neck, you pull him down to meet your lips in a very heated kiss. It’s so sweet, and you can taste the maple syrup in his mouth from when he’d licked some off the plate as he was carrying you to the bedroom.

You hum at the taste, finding yourself still licking your lips even as he pulls away, to get every last drop. As he brings the plate of food closer to the bed, he pulls out the can of whipped cream he’d stuffed into the band of sweats and you can’t help but laugh at his method of transportation.

Looking up, however, you see the once-cerulean eyes now a dark navy and take the hint as to where this is going.

Slipping your top off, you watch in delight as his eyes fly to your tits. Almost immediately, he brings the tip of the whipped cream van over your nipple, squirting a dollop of cream over each bud.

Poking a tongue out to lick at your lips, you bite your bottom lip as he brings his mouth down to lick the cream off your tits clean.

You squeal softly at the sensation of his mouth around your tit.

Figuring he was just unable to contain his urges, he squirted cream back over each of your nipples before bringing it down the nape of your stomach.

As he reaches the waistline of your pants, he takes it upon himself to shed you of your booty shorts, marvelling at how you went commando. Easier access for him, less fabric to ruin.

Placing a small kiss over your clit, he sprays one little spiral of cream over the little bud before finally marvelling at his work.

He groans as he takes you all in, fully bare before him and covered in sweet, fluffy cream.

Bringing your leg up to rest in his shoulder, he bites your calf, resisting the urge to just devour you whole.

“Don’t tease,” You beg, softly nudging his head with your foot. He glared at you playfully as your foot now massages his scalp and he quickly grabs your foot before biting a toe and making you scream. “Hey, unfair, why am I the only one naked?”

“Because,” He starts, grabbing his phone and snapping a quick photo before you can even cover up- but you don’t mind, you know it’ll be for his eyes only. After throwing his phone back onto the bed, he kneels down on the ground to come face to face with your cream covered pussy, “I’m a bit of a messy eater.” He smiles wickedly before diving into your cunt, your hands flying to his hair as he laps up the cream from your clit.

Let’s just say there were two types of creams that had entered your body that morning.

-

On top of Bucky’s load, the breakfast you had made had you absolutely stuffed. So much so that you had to untie the waistband of your pants to accomodate for your bloat.

“What do we do now?” You ask once Bucky finishes the rest of the food for you and places the empty plate on his bedside table.

“Mmm, I’m perfectly fine staying like this forever.” He pulls you closer to his side and reaches for the glass of orange juice you had fetched him after he absolutely destroyed your pussy.

“Me too.” You sigh, “But it’s your one day off and I’m not letting you spend it in bed.” Even though it lowkey pained you to move, you were only losing daylight by laying in bed, “Come on.” You pulled his hand to follow you into the shower.

And God, the sex drive on this man. You’d think that after cumming in your mouth and in your stomach only half an hour ago would’ve drained him out. But no, he lasted another two rounds in the shower.

You loved it.

-

It was kinda stupid to shower, seeing as you both jumped into the pool straight after.

It was the first time you ever used the pool. You just never had anyone to swim with before and you found no use in swimming alone. Plus, you weren’t sure you would’ve been comfortable swimming alone, with Bucky’s men watching over you… You also doubt that Bucky would’ve even let you do so if that was the case.

You had races to see who could swim the fastest, breath holding contests, marco polo, after that tired you out, you both sunbaked on the pool chairs for a bit.

You eventually ended up joining him on his chair so that you could both cuddle as you got to know each other more. It was very strange telling it how it was. Getting to know each other. To be fair, you’d only known each other for about two months before getting married. Really, you hardly knew anything about each other.

You only just found out his birthday, his parents names, his favourite colour and what he wanted to be when he grew up. And vice versa.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but by the sounds of Bucky’s stomach grumbling, you knew it had to have hit lunchtime by now.

Without a word, you got up off of his warm body and slipped your sandals on.

“Where are you going now?” He asks, completely dumbfounded as you run down to the garden.

“Hold on!” You yell back before disappearing out of sight. Bucky had counted the seconds that you were gone, panicking a little when it hit 2 minutes and 30 seconds. He sat up in his chair, keeping a close eye on the stairs that led down to the garden. If something happened to you this early, he’d be a dead man- “Lunch?” You ask, coming into view with a small basket full of…

“Cherry tomatoes?” Bucky asks with a laugh. There were other ingredients buried in there but the tomatoes were the most prominent item.

“I’ll make a pasta.” You shrug simply.

Bucky smiled to himself as he followed you back inside the house. He got lucky with you. Real lucky.

Maybe his job wasn’t so bad after all.

-

The pasta you’d made was demolished faster than you had made it. Bucky truly was a starved man. You guessed it was because he just wasn’t used to proper meals and was relishing in it while he could. You only had a few bites off his plate, still not enough room from breakfast.

But you would happily make Bucky food for the rest of his life if he asked you to. Something about it just made you happy, seeing him enjoy something you created gave you a lot of pleasure.

Maybe it was the housewife in you, you remember being told that your mother had always provided well for everyone. Maybe you inherited that trait.

After lunch, you’d both showered again. Completely innocent this time. Aside from Bucky’s lingering hands, you were both too tired to fuck again, let alone in the shower.

The time was only just hitting 2pm when you had both gotten out of the shower. So far you had no other plans in mind, but it didn’t matter anyway because Bucky had pulled you into bed to cuddle… and you both slowly fell asleep.

“We really shouldn’t nap.” You almost tried to fight it, despite the heavy weight of your eyelids.

It was his day off, remember! By the time you wake up it’ll probably be dark out and that’s like 5 hours of day light wasted!

But God, you were tired.

“Shhh, sleep.” Bucky yawns and pulls you closer.

You huff but finally give in, your eyelids winning the battle and plunging you into sleep.

-

You woke up to kisses pressed to your forehead, blinking your eyes up at the man before you as he had you engulfed in his arms.

He smiled down at you as you rubbed your eyes, “Good sleep?”

“Like a baby.” You moaned, stretching your limbs and almost orgasming from the feeling. “What time is it?” You ask and look over his shoulder at the analog clock sitting on his bedside. 6:06pm.

“What’s for dinner, lovely housewife?”

Shit. You forgot all about dinner, “I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it.”

As you both went silence in thought, it was strange. It was like you both unconsciously knew that you were both too tired to go out for dinner. Even though it would’ve been lovely and it was what you had hoped for when you planned this day off last night, you didn’t realise the extent of how tired you’d be after all your shenanigans.

“We could always get take out?” You smile as if Bucky had read your mind. Because, well, he did. You didn’t feel like cooking either and even if you did, you had no idea what.

“And watch a movie?” You add.

“Sounds good to me.”

-

Takeout choice for the night was a fuck ton of Chinese. Plus one pepperoni pizza because you had mentioned a slight craving for it as well as the Chinese and Bucky was jumping for the phone to order it. He said it was a ‘thank you for the good sex this morning’.

“What’s your favourite movie?” You ask, skimming through the movies, unsure of what to pick.

“I can’t remember the last time I watched a movie.” Bucky shrugs and you gape at him in shock. You couldn’t say you were surprised, given his lifestyle and the fact that he hardly saw you, how on earth would he be able to sit and watch a movie whenever he liked, “You pick, show me something I’ve missed out on.” He squeezes the ankle that wrests over his lap as you ponder the choices on the screen.

“Harry Potter?”

It was a classic. Nothing cheesy like a rom-com or, to put it realistically, something that Bucky would fall asleep through. It had lots of talking points and points of discussion plus, sequels as well in case you could have another one of these day offs and continue the movie series.

A girl can only dream.

-

After the movie had ended, you and Bucky had put away all the leftovers, figuring he could eat it for lunch tomorrow- adding it to the rest of the leftover food you had cooked for him today.

He gave you a piggy back all the way up to the bedroom after massaging your feet all throughout the movie. But then he threw you off his shoulder and into the bed and pretended to wrestle you so that was fun while it lasted.

Once more, you both showered together before finally, finally going to bed.

But of course, you were glued to his side the second you got underneath the covers.

It had to be your favourite position ever. Better than any sex position. It just felt nice to be in his arms. He was always so warm, and so big and strong and protective. It was nice.

“Thank you for today.” He presses many kisses into your hair and you smile, looking up at him before reaching up and placing a kiss on his lips.

“We should do it more often.”

“I’ll try.” He sighs and looks a little remorseful, knowing no matter how hard he’ll try, he probably will never, ever be able to do this again.

But you don’t know that.

You just offer a small smile in return, bringing a hand up to smooth out the frown lines on his precious face, “It’s okay, I get it.”

But you don’t, Bucky thinks. If only you did. It would make his life 10x easier.

-

Bucky would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous walking back into the office after his one day off.

As he passed by employees, they almost seemed surprised to see him… but mostly scared as per usual.

When he’d entered the main office space where the rest of his higher up coworkers were, he couldn’t deny the feeling of his heart dropping at the soft glare Tony had sent him.

“Heard you had a little day off.” He sighed, scribbling signatures on a few papers in front of him.

Bucky almost stuttered if it wasn’t for Steve giving him an encouraging nod. Don’t lie to Tony, stand your ground, was what it meant.

“She wanted me to.” He defended, and Tony quirked up a brow, almost challenging Bucky’s inference that you had control over him, “I felt bad, she’s just stuck in that house all by herself everyday. Plus it got her off my case.”

The last part of his statement seemed to have sufficed for Tony, as he just pursed his lips before opening up a rather thick file and laying its contents all over the conference table.

“Well, here’s the shit you missed.”

-

“How was yesterday?” Steve asks Bucky as they drive around the city, running errands.

“Good. Really good, actually.” Bucky smiles to himself, reminiscing on the day off he’d had 24 hours ago, “She made me breakfast in bed, then we fucked, then we showered… and fucked again.” Steve rolled his eyes but smiled, he couldn’t lie, that did sound pretty good, “Went swimming, then she made lunch, then we napped. Then we got takeout and watched a movie.” He finally concluded, “It was good.”

Steve glanced over at him for a second before averting his eyes back to the road. The smile on Bucky’s face and the way he had looked off longingly out the window told Steve everything he needed to know about you.

“You love her.” Steve states, matter of factly.

Bucky readjusts in his seat, sighing, “Love gets you killed. I like her.”

“Tony’s gonna figure it out eventually.” Steve shakes his head, almost beratingly, “You can’t let your feelings get in the way of this mission. Because they will… they already have.”

“I just said I like her.” Bucky lightly snaps, before remembering who he’s talking to. Steve’s just looking out for him and he’s right… “What do you think I should do?”

“Take a step back… act as if Tony’s around whenever you’re with her.” Bucky looks at him like he can’t be serious. But he knew it was valuable advice. “Look, it’ll not only help with the act, but if you really like her so much, it might even keep her safe. People will see that she doesn’t mean as much to you as they thought and they won’t use her against you.” Steve offers and Bucky sighs again, a trait he had become much accustomed to. “Just until it’s over.”

“Who’s to say she’ll still want me when it’s over?”

-

Bucky had basically resumed his schedule of work. From 6am to 6pm, gone and unreachable unless for extreme emergencies.

You guessed it was okay though. He had his one day off and you were grateful. You knew, in his world, it was kind of a lot to ask for, a whole day off from work, so you were very thankful. But you couldn’t help but slowly fall back into that slum of longing and loneliness.

So, whenever Bucky was home after work, you tried to steer into the direction of another movie or even sex. Anything other than just him coming straight to bed or going straight into his office.

“Hey,” You’d caught him in the kitchen after he’d come home one night. He must’ve thought you were asleep or something because the way he jumped when he saw you.

“You scared me.” He laughs a little before shutting the fridge and heating up the dinner you had cooked earlier.

“Sorry.” You kiss his cheek and try to ignore how tense he felt, “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

For a split second, you swear you believe he’s gonna say yes. Even he looks like he’s gonna say yes. But he quickly remembers what Steve had told him about a week ago and shakes his head softly, “Not tonight, Y/N. I got a lot of work to catch up on.”

“Oh.” You say softly, “Okay, that’s okay.”

He just smiled at you in thanks before taking his food out of the microwave and heading for his office.

In all truth, it wasn’t fucking okay. He just got home from work and now he’s… catching up on more work? What the fuck had he done at work then? Also, he runs a fucking mob how much work does he really need to do?

You know he co owns a bunch of hotels and restaurants and taxi companies but God, are there not other men? What about Steve? Does he do any work? Because by the looks of it, Bucky’s doing fucking everything.

Those were the thoughts that had raised amidst your little… tantrum. You had calmed down a little after an hour since Bucky got home and denied your offer to watch a movie together.

It was now nearing midnight and you were getting tired. Bucky still hadn’t come to bed yet and you were getting worried.

So you quickly threw on your gown, tried to make yourself look a little skimpy to at least… attract him into coming to bed. You were way too tired to do any work in that matter but if it got him to bed, then so be it.

You made your way to his office and knocked on the door softly before allowing yourself in.

He was looking quizzically at his computer screen for a quick moment, an almost panicked expression taking over his features when he saw you walk in. If only you’d known what he’d been doing on that computer. Totally wasn’t looking over years worth of your Dad’s digital banking history.

What you did see however, was the way he carelessly averted his eyes away from you. Hardly even acknowledging you. His wife. Just a reminder.

Sheepishly, you wait at the door now. Initially you planned on literally seducing him to come to bed. But now, now you felt a little insecure. Like he was annoyed at you. But you have no idea what you did and that was the most frustrating thing.

Maybe he just had a bad day.

“Are you coming to bed?” You ask, nails softly tapping against the wood of his door.

Without even taking his eyes off the screen, he just mumbles, “Not yet. Later.”

Your heart pangs with sadness and you just nod softly, “Okay… Goodnight.” When he just nods his head in reply, you feel like crying. He didn’t even have the decency to say it back?

You make no intention of pushing it though, leaving the office to trudge back to your cold and lonely bedroom.

It took you a while to fall asleep. Not particularly unusual as of late, but it felt a lot stronger tonight. Usually you’d be half asleep at around 11 and then when Bucky would eventually come home and join you in bed is when you’d finally fall asleep. So it doesn’t take a genius to figure the common denominator here.

Opening your eyes with a heavy sigh and confirming that Bucky was still yet to come to bed, you rolled over to your bedside table, the little digital clock flashed 1:24am.

Sitting up now, you squint your eyes at the hall outside of the bedroom, squinting to try and find any light from downstairs. You threw the blanket off your body when it was nothing but pitch black.

Tiptoeing along the cold floor of the upstairs, you tightened your robe… it was a comfort thing, felt more secure.

He was definitely shocked to see you awake and roaming the house at this hour, and he almost fled the kitchen when he saw you walk in if it weren’t for the half eaten breakfast in front of him.

Masking the fact that you were quite nervous for this confrontation, you made your way to the kettle and boiled yourself some water to make some tea.

As it boiled and as you got the contents ready for your mug, you spoke to him with your back turned, “Did you come to bed last night?” Of course, you knew the answer. But you wanted him to say it.

It’s a little silent for a moment and you wonder if he’d disappeared from the kitchen just to avoid the question.

“No.” He grunts, almost like he’s uncomfortable at the confession- because he knows it was wrong, “I fell asleep.”

Turning around now, your lower back resting against the edge of the counter, you just stare him down. You don’t know what you’re looking for, maybe the ring on his finger making sure it’s still there or a hickey in his neck from another woman.

It’s a rather uncomfortable stare, mostly for him than for you and it’s only when he starts to shift in his seat that you finally speak, “Is there something wrong?” Your arms cross over your chest and he finally looks up at you, “Did I do something?”

You think for a second that he’s going to apologise. To realise the effect his attitude is having on you and your perception of your marriage. You’re hesitant to confidently say it in the instance that you’re wrong, but it almost looks like he’s having some internal battle with himself.

But that idea is much short lived when he just averts his gaze back down to his plate and continues picking at his food, “No. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, when you act like you hate me, I’m gonna worry about it.” You scoff. You couldn’t help it, the words kinda just came out. Your anger kinda overtook you for a moment there and… it felt good.

Until, of course, Bucky stood from the stool he was seated at, the legs of the chair scraping harshly against the floor with a loud screech, “I don’t hate you.” He says simply, grabbing his keys out of his pockets, “I gotta go.”

That night, Bucky didn’t come home. You didn’t expect anything less to be honest, even though you should’ve… he totally didn’t hate you, remember?

-

Waking up alone was no surprise to you as of late. Stretching your limbs across the whole bed, you sighed blissfully as you remembered what day it was.

Maybe there was good reason why Bucky wasn’t in bed today.

Throwing the blanket off of your body, you made your way to the unusually shut door. You don’t remember shutting it last night, nor did you ever really shut the door- but you hoped this was all part of the surprise.

Except, if that was the case, why was it locked? “What the fuck?” You curse, twisting the knob more aggressively now before it’s being unlocked from the other side.

You didn’t even know the door had a lock- let alone from the outside, that just makes no sense.

The door opens and you step back a little as Sam peeks his head in, “Bucky’s in a meeting.”

“So?”

“You’re not allowed downstairs.”

Blinking at him with an ‘are you serious?’ look, you huff in disbelief, “I need to eat.”

“Just read a book for an hour and you can have all the food in the world.” He says simply before shutting the door in your face.

-

Sam had knocked on your door exactly an hour later, giving you the okay to come downstairs. You were hesitant, but when he told you Bucky was still wrapping up, you just pushed past him and headed straight for the kitchen, Sam hot on your trail telling you to slow down.

You didn’t listen. You were angry. And rightfully so.

You made yourself breakfast to finally settle your stomach and ate in silence as Sam patrolled the kitchen. Neither of you said anything, you just scrolled through your phone and ate passive aggressively.

Right on time, as you were just finishing up your meal, you heard Steve and Bucky’s footsteps approaching. Without missing a beat, without even acknowledging him in the slightest, you stood from your chair, emptied your plate and put it in the sink with a loud clank. You grabbed your phone off the counter and walked past Bucky without a word.

Bucky just rolls his eyes before chasing after you. You’re long gone by the time he looks for you, by the slam of the bedroom door, he figures where you are though, so he doesn’t have to look far.

He doesn’t bother knocking, just enters and immediately starts explaining himself to you, despite your turned back to him, “Look, you married into this life on your own accord and I vowed to protect you. So when I have to keep you upstairs, just know that it’s for your own safety-“

“I don’t care that you kept me upstairs!” It’s only when you speak that he realises your crying. You’re still turned away from him but the fault in your voice and the way you’ve wiped at your eyes is indicative of such. He’s left pretty speechless, unsure of what it is he’s done to upset you so, if it wasn’t the fact that he basically had you locked upstairs,“You forgot my fucking birthday.”

Bucky feels his heart drop to his stomach. Your birthday? He didn’t even know it was your birthday. Well, he… Okay, he forgot, but you only told him like once and it was like a while ago. He guessed that’s what happens when you marry someone you’ve only know for 2 months but still, he should’ve remembered to have write it down somewhere… you know, to make it seem real.

But part of him does feel bad. A big part of him actually. To have your birthday forgotten? On top of that being locked in your room the second you wake up… on your birthday.

“I’m sorry.” He speaks softer now, slowly approaching you, “I didn’t… know.”

You feel him get closer and you’re basically cornered now. You don’t exactly blame him for not knowing, but it still hurt. You would’ve thought the circled date on his calendar in his office would’ve at least helped him remember.

You almost jump at the feeling of his hands wrapping around your stomach and pulling you back to him. He hugs you from behind and you wipe the stray tears that have soaked your face.

It’s the first time you’ve cried in front of him.

Part of you believes that this is more than just him not knowing your birthday. It’s everything. It’s the being locked up in the house all day, never having any alone time because there’s always one of his men around, nothing to do, barely seeing him. The birthday part was just the cherry on top.

For about three years since your parents died, you had spent those birthdays alone. You weren’t ready to go out and celebrate without them just yet. They always made sure you’d had the best birthday, always topping the last. But when they had died, you lost all that and had nothing to replace it. Those three birthdays were spent locked up in your room all day, buried in your blankets with the lights off and the curtains drawn until the day passed.

The other part of you believes that’s why it’s hitting you so hard. Because in the last two years, you had gotten out of that behaviour. You would go all out for your birthday at fancy clubs, got spoilt rotten by people you didn’t even know.

So from the moment you woke up this morning, the coldness of the room as you sat in the middle of the big bed, all alone. It was hard.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He speaks into your hair, kissing the side of your ear, “We can go out tonight. Anywhere you like.” He promises and you smile softly.

Maybe you were just being silly. It wasn’t entirely his fault. He was a busy man, he’d probably forget his own birthday if it weren’t for you or Steve.

He’d called off the rest of his work things for the rest of the day and spent it with you instead. Because you weren’t going out until later tonight, you both decided to spend the remaining of the day inside.

Basically a repeat of that one time he got a day off, except today you didn’t have to do any cooking. But everything else was all the same, the fucking, the pool, the movie. Somehow, he ended up picking out gifts from you without even leaving your side, Pietro dropping them off as you continued to watch the movie.

The movie long forgotten by the time Bucky came around the couch with boxes and bags stacked on top of each other. Each gift seemingly more expensive than the next. You didn’t need any of it- nor did you really hold it over Bucky’s head that you needed to be spoiled. But you really didn’t expect anything less from him and it did feel nice… after the week you’d just had.

Your favourite thing that he’d gifted you had to be the Tiffany bracelet. Or the cooking apron, or the necklace with the letter ‘B’ on it, or the framed pictures of your ‘wedding’, or the Dior handbag, or the Hot Chick black and red Louboutins or the Hot Chick Plume Louboutins and the black Skims dress to go with it for tonight.

Or maybe the sex.

He made sure it was all about you, never not once focusing on pleasuring himself. Let you sit on his face and then tore you apart until it was almost too much.

Safe to say, that was definitely the best gift and you were able to get the best post-sex nap afterwards as well before going out for dinner… and then reliving what had happened only a few hours ago.

Falling onto his warm chest, you heave a blissful sigh as he runs his hands over your hair. You roll your hips one last time and clench around him as he twitches inside you, collecting every last bit of cum that’s leaking out of him.

He groans momentarily before placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Happy Birthday, baby.”

Yeah. Definitely the best gift.

-

“You have to try and keep your distance.”

“What?” Bucky asks, a little nervous at the stern look across Tony’s face.

“Rumlow wants to kill her.” Tony says matter of factly, as if it doesn’t mean as much as it does, “Or at least torture the information out of her or ransom the money out of us.”

‘Motherfucker’, is what Bucky thinks, but is too smart to say out loud for Tony to hear. Shifting nervously in the conference room chair, he thinks over his words, “Why should I keep my distance? If anything I should stay closer to her-“

“You’re already too close to her. Rumlow knows you ‘care’ about her now so he’s put a target on her. If you stay too close now, we can’t get him where we want him.”

“You’re not using her as bait.” Bucky speaks a little too fast for his mind to comprehend what he just said, and it takes Tony’s furrowed brows and menacing eyes for Bucky to realise his mistake, “It-it’ll be too dangerous… f-for her.” He quickly covers up, but it’s probably no use at the way he stammered over his words and kept averting his gaze.

“We have no choice.” Tony says, tilting his head a little now as he observes Bucky at the end of the table, “What does it matter? It’s not like she means anything to us.” He knows what he’s doing with his words, knows he’s trying to sus Bucky out of a confession or something, but he saves him the humiliation and just shakes his head, “Bucky-“

“I know.”

“Remember what you’re doing this for. If you can’t finish this mission-“

“I can.” Bucky’s heart drops to his stomach, not brave enough to hear the rest of Tony’s threat. Look, it didn’t matter how close Tony was to Bucky and the rest of his men- how much he presented himself as a father figure as their leader, Tony had expectations and if you didn’t meet them…

“Her father started this war. If it wasn’t for the money he left me, it would end with her.” He reminds Bucky, “And if we can’t find that money, then it will- and you along with her.”

That meeting had basically set Bucky straight again the day after your birthday. Of course, Tony had heard all about Bucky’s clearing of plans and the dinner he’d taken you out too.

He’d only heard of it because of the file that showed up in his desk the next morning of pictures of the two of you at said restaurant. Tony was no idiot, he knew who took the pictures- also the signed name on the back of the envelope in bright red pen also a clear indication. ‘Brock Rumlow’.

So, just as you thought you’d repaired the pothole in your relationship with Bucky, little did you know that would all come crashing back down on you.

He had, of course, returned back to work as per usual. That should’ve been your first indication that nothing had really changed. In a perfect world, you would’ve hoped he’d maybe stayed an extra hour or two in the morning to make up for what he’d missed the previous morning- but no.

No, it’ll probably be a while until you would happily wake up in the arms of your ‘loving’ and ‘devoted’ husband.

-

Your ears prick up at the sound of Bucky’s car pulling up to the driveway so early. It’s only about 5pm- usually he wouldn’t finish until 6, then get home at 10 if you were lucky.

Entering through the front door, he looked no different from what he usually did. Stressed and tired- maybe tonight… a little scared?

“Hey,” You speak softly, so as to not overstimulate him the second he walks into the house.

He turns his attention to you and his gaze lingers on you a little longer and a little stranger than you were used to. You couldn’t read his features- nor what he was thinking but it was very peculiar.

He then smiles softly, breaking out of his trance, before heading for the kitchen without a word.

Your furrow your brows, utterly confused. More so at his lack of affection than anything else, despite how used to it you had found yourself. God, isn’t that so fucking wrong? You’re used to your husband not being affectionate?

An idea popped into your head, though you weren’t sure how well it would fly, you figured it was best to give it a shot and at least let him know that you’re still trying.

Joining him in the kitchen, he drinks from a bottle of some alcohol in the fridge. Wincing from the taste, he catches you in his peripheral and you’re almost certain you startled him.

He just purses his lips as he screws the lid back on the bottle, barely paying you any more mind as he shuts the fridge.

Leaning tentatively against the counter, you subconsciously fiddle with your fingers out of nervousness, “Did you… wanna go somewhere tonight?”

Looking at you, it’s so hard for you to read his face tonight. Even harder for him as he suffers with an internal battle, on one hand wanting to indulge in your sweet offerings and be the loving husband he vowed to be- on the other, the words from Tony’s meeting burned into his skin.

Plus the envelope from Brock. He couldn’t take that risk again. Bucky felt a lot of emotions he didn’t know he had when he’d seen that shitty photo of you and him sitting at the restaurant from your birthday. The red dot from the pen of a marker drawn over your head like a fucking sniper target as you lovingly look at Bucky was what really set him off.

If anything, he was doing this to protect you now.

“I’m going to a dinner with Steve… business thing.” He quickly lies, praying to God that you don’t catch the lie despite his horrible attempt at keeping his ground. Ever since the meeting with Tony, he’d been on edge the whole day. The threat ringing through his ears almost every time he thought about you or looked at you.

“I can’t come?” You ask with a sarcastic laugh. You liked Steve and you wouldn’t mind joining them for dinner, even if they discussed business the whole night.

But Bucky’s silence and lack of amusement unsettles you.

“We went out the other day.” He shrugs and you blink bemusedly at him.

It takes you a second to gather your thoughts and you begin to feel your blood boil as he fails to redeem himself.

“So- I have limits on the amount of days I can leave the house?”

The way your eyes darken and the volume of your voice increases causes alarm bells to go off inside Bucky’s head, “Y/N-“

“I’m like your fucking hostage at this point.” You continue, only getting angry and louder, “What? I get treated to one night out a week? Do I need a fucking punch card to keep track of each one?”

“Everything I do is to keep you safe!” Bucky snaps, matching the same volume of your own voice, “All my meetings, every day at work, they’re the reason you’re still alive. By all means, take a walk outside by yourself, see what happens.”

It’s a screaming match now and you’re glad your house square footage is too big for any neighbour to hear you at the moment.

“Maybe I will. And hopefully get kidnapped by someone, probably’ll get better treatment than I do here!”

“Be fucking grateful.” He steps towards you and you surprise yourself when you don’t flinch, “You wouldn’t last a minute without me.”

“I do it every fucking day.” You spit back.

He roughly grabs your left hand, holding it up and showing your wedding band on full display, “What’s this then, huh?”

“A poor excuse of a fucking marriage.” You harshly pull your hand out of his grasp, “If anything, I’d be better off without you!”

For a second, the splittest of seconds, you swear you see his face falter and you worry that you went too far. But let’s be real, he took it too far the second he grabbed your hand which your sure has left a red imprint around your wrist.

“Oh! Is that what you think?” He laughs, chest heaving as you both breathe heavily from running out breath, “Okay.” He nods, backing away from you as he goes to leave the kitchen- in the process, knocking over a glass vase that housed some flowers he’d bought you on your birthday.

You flinch a little as the glass shatters on the floor, but it only makes you more heated as you follow after him, “Yeah, fuck off to your stupid dinner with your boyfriend!”

The slam of the front door almost prompts the tears that waited patiently at your waterline to spill over the edge. You aggressively wipe them away- not allowing yourself to cry over whatever the hell that was.

Maybe it was your fault for escalating it so quickly, but you couldn’t live like this.

Re-entering the kitchen, you tiptoe through the shards of broken glass that litters the floor and make quick work of cleaning up the mess he’d left in his wake of destruction.

Those were your favourite flowers.

-

“We had a bad fight.” Bucky sighs as he downs his second whiskey in the 5 minutes that he’s already been at Steve’s house, “Tony would’ve castrated me for letting her talk to me the way she did. Now she probably thinks I’m cheating on her or something… well, maybe thinks I’m cheating on her with you.”

Steve chuckles softly as he reloads his gun on the TV screen of whatever game they’re playing, “Really?”

Bucky nods, surprisingly not as embarrassed to confess the harsh words he’d let you say to him in the fight, “She called you my boyfriend. She was probably just angry.”

As Bucky pretty much allows his character to be shot dead, Steve looks over at his slumped form on the couch. He feels bad for him, he really does. Bucky’s obviously his best friend and he knows Bucky would never have wanted any of this to happen… you know, in real life.

“It’ll be over soon.” Steve assures Bucky with a promising look, knowing how much faith they both had in each other, “Once Tony finalises the plan, we’ll be able to get the money.”

“What about Rumlow?”

“He doesn’t stand a fucking chance, Buck, come on. He’s already lost, I don’t even know why he bothers.” Steve huffs

“It’s a lot of money.” Bucky answers for Steve, sighing heavily as he basically rethinks his entire life, “I just don’t want her hurt.”

Steve just nods, holding back from saying anything else because he knows it may not be the best of help for Bucky at this time. Instead, he just refills Bucky’s empty whiskey glass and restarts the game, “Come on, a few more games and I’ll take you home.”

That night, Bucky came home at around 1. He was ballsy enough to sleep in the same bed as you and you didn’t know if you were dreaming or half asleep, but you heard a soft ‘sorry’ and ‘I love you’ at around that time. But, from the way he’d left the bed empty and cold by the time you woke up, you assumed it was a dream.

-

Days went by and you continued to ignore each other- hardly by choice but just because he was either never here or you were sleeping.

You literally had nothing else to do. So you slept. And slept and slept and slept.

Each night it became more difficult to sleep and you often found yourself in bed, with your eyes closed, but never fully asleep.

You didn’t know what it was. It didn’t matter if Bucky was in bed with you or not, you just couldn’t sleep at night.

You waited tirelessly for Bucky to apologise… properly and not in the form of a dream. You didn’t want gifts or unlimited access to his bank account- you’d already given yourself that the night after the fight.

No, you knew any apology in the form of a gift would just be a way for you to shut up and forgive him. It wouldn’t work this time.

Though, the new flower vase and identical flowers that he’d replaced one random day, long after the fight did make you smile a little when you saw them.

The rest of the day, you’d wondered if today was the day. The day that he’d apologise or find some elaborate way to make up for it. You wouldn’t take gifts but maybe sex would do. Or dining out at a restaurant. Either or. You hadn’t done either in weeks and it was slowly driving you insane.

So, when Bucky had texted you, ‘Dinner tonight? x’, you couldn’t help the smile that broke out on your face. Okay, this could work.

He’d take you somewhere nice, knowing how much you loved dressing up and going out to taste all kinds of elaborate foods, apologise over wine, drunkenly buy you a garden of flowers from a street vendor, take you for some ice cream before fucking you both in the backseat of his car and in the comfort of your shared bed.

You didn’t know what the occasion was- maybe he’s finished a project at work and was celebrating no longer having to work such long hours away from you which ultimately caused the divide in your relationship. Whatever it was, you didn’t care.

You were just glad to have your husband back.

Oh, how wrong you were.

You thought nothing of the way Bucky had tended up under your hold as you rested your head against his shoulder in the car, on the way to the restaurant. Too enamoured by the way he’d looked at you as you came down the stairs in your new black dress. You were okay with the silence, stupidly thinking he was saving his words for the dinner.

Nor did you think anything of the way he’d stayed silent the whole ride. You also missed how Pietro had constantly peered up at the rear view mirror to look back at Bucky and they’d exchange wordless glances.

It was only as he guided you through the sea of tables in the restaurant, eyes landing upon the full table that you’d realised… this was any thing but what you thought it would be.

“I thought we were going to be alone.” You whispered in his ear, tightening your grip in his hand as you near the table.

Tony, Steve, Natasha, Sam, and heaps of others you didn’t know all stared as the two of you approached the table- seemingly the last ones of the party to arrive.

“Well, you thought wrong.” He replies quickly before pulling his hand out of your grasp and shaking hands with his boss, “Tony.”

As you tentatively sat in your seats, you picked up the menu and observed all the choices. Despite the current predicament you were in, you knew you had to put up a front now for Bucky’s coworkers- sure that they wouldn’t exactly be pleased to watch your mess of a marriage unfold.

Whenever out at restaurants, you never knew what to pick and almost always sought out Bucky’s advice. So, purely out of instinct- as well as to continue the loving-marriage facade, you interlocked your hand with his and leaned closer to him, “What’re you gonna get?”

Many moons ago, so it seemed, when you had gone out to eat, a part of you would always be touching Bucky. It was a possessive thing for Bucky and safety thing for you. It let men know that you were happily taken (as if the fat diamond on your finger wasn’t enough) and let you know whenever Bucky sensed danger. It was usually nothing more than just a simple hand hold or a hold on your ankle or thigh. Which is why you thought nothing of holding his hand as you were.

But apparently he did. You felt him tense up first, and then he unfurled his fingers from yours and kind of balled it up into a fist on the table now.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged coldly.

But you barely heard it. Too shocked at what he’d just done. You felt so much at once, anger and hurt the main ones. What had you done? Why was he acting like this? The rejection stung badly and it left a sour taste in your mouth as you leaned away from him now and just kept to yourself.

It was like that for the rest of the night. You kind of realised that perhaps this wasn’t exactly the kind of dinner that you were expecting. It was a meeting, disguised as a dinner or some stupid shit like that.

You kept your head down and your mouth shut, only talking to the waiter in a soft whisper when he’d approached you and taken your order.

However, when the food came, you barely ate anything on the plate. The more you thought to yourself, the more upset you were getting.

Why had he just dropped your hand like that? Was it because of Tony? Or Natasha? What if he and Natasha had something going on? That wouldn’t surprise you, in all honesty.

You hardly listened to the conversations all night. It didn’t interest you. You’d heard enough of this stupid mob shit at home, you’d somehow managed to tune it out during the entirety of the dinner.

But time was still going by painfully slowly, and you had resorted to playing around with the food on your plate, counting each individual pea, separating the colours from each other, making pictures out of it.

You didn’t think anyone paid you any mind, and no one did- no one except Bucky.

He would eye you every so often to see what you were doing before glancing back at Tony, who’d send him a stern glance.

He knew what he had to do, to prove to Tony, but he just need to find the right time and the right words. Something he could bounce back from once the two of you got home.

It finally got to a point where Tony had finished the last drop of alcohol in his glass that Bucky knew he had to say something. Tony was getting impatient and you’d be an idiot to make him wait any longer.

“What’s wrong with you? Why won’t you eat?” It takes you a second to realise Bucky’s speaking to you. It’s only when you look up and see a few wandering eyes that you realise.

You set down your fork now, figuring you’ve made him mad and that pushing it any further is just going to be a headache for you, “I’m not hungry.”

“So why’d you order it?” His tone is so harsh and his stare is so… annoyed. But it’s like there’s something lingering in his eyes like he still cares?

Either way, his tone overrides it all and makes you cower in your seat, “I lost my appetite.”

“Of course.” He scoffs, “But you don’t care, right? It’s my money, after all.”

You furrow your brows and look up at him now. Money had rarely been an issue for him. Especially in terms of spending it on you. Everything you currently wore on your body indicative of such, so you were utterly perplexed at why it was an issue now, “I’ll pay for it myself then.”

“Your money is my money.” He almost laughs and you swear you hear a snide little giggle from Tony.

You embarrassingly swallow a breath, what did that even mean? To be fair, despite your inheritance, you had been basically living off of Bucky’s money. You didn’t think he would so willingly share that information with all his coworkers however, “Then I’ll take it to go.” You mutter.

“This isn’t a fucking Applebees, you can’t get a to-go box at this restaurant.”

“Then what the fuck do you want me to do with it, James?” You finally snap.

The table falls silent now and you’re certain part of the restaurant does too. You’ve never addressed him by his official name before, on top of that, swearing at him as well.

You don’t falter in your stance, you stand your ground and raise a tentative brow. On the inside, however, you’re terrified. The look on his face and the way it takes him a second to reply makes you nervous. You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.

Without breaking eye contact, he leans in a little closer, “Go to the bathroom and freshen up, don’t come back until you’ve fixed yourself.”

It’s almost a threat, the way he says it.

You almost want to challenge him further, to ask him what he was gonna do if you don’t. But you’re on the verge of crying and you know better than to try your luck with a table full of criminals.

Everyone watches as you leave for the restroom. The air is tense and Bucky exhales a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

“Good.” Tony nods, and a wave of relief floods over a Bucky’s nerves. He was unsure if Tony would’ve approved since you had snapped back at him. The way he handled it must’ve been satisfactory enough, “Now, her cards.”

Remembering the task at hand, Bucky reaches into your purse and grabs your wallet, passing it over to Tony, who lays it all out on the table, pulling out each and every card and using some special device to take quick scans of it.

“How is this gonna work?” Bucky asks, mostly to clear the tense air rather than to actually know the process.

“We’ll tap into all her accounts, we’ll find the money that way- there’s no other place it could be.” It was initially thought that the money your parents had left you was kept somewhere insanely secret- a storage container in the middle of nowhere, buried in their ashes or in their grave. But after a year of searching, to no avail, they figured it was back to square one.

Scanning your cards didn’t take long and once Bucky had put every single one back in their respective spots in your wallet and shoved it back in your purse, it was like nothing had happened at all.

The rest of the table engaged in lighter conversation now that the job was done for the night and they could all relax. Bucky, however, was probably the only one not yet relaxed as he couldn’t help but notice how you hadn’t yet returned from the bathroom.

It’d had to have been well past 20 minutes now and he was growing concerned that you’d run off or something. Knowing Tony would have something to say about it if Bucky had sought her out, instead Bucky leans over to Steve, “Go check on her, will you? Shes been gone for ages.”

-

The classical music that played through the bathroom speaker did little to calm your nerves as you sat atop the toilet seat, sobbing.

In this moment, you were so glad they had fully private bathroom stalls. You’re sure the elderly ladies or the snobby, sugar babies wouldn’t worry themselves with you had they heard you crying in the bathroom- probably would’ve hardcore judged you if anything and that was the last thing you needed tonight.

You tried to catch every tear with the folded piece of toilet paper in your hand, so as to not completely destroy your makeup and look an even bigger mess than you already were.

You wanted to leave. You want to go home, with or without Bucky, you didn’t care, and just sleep. Maybe even leave the country. You were humiliated, and scared. You honestly considered just hiding out in the bathroom until Bucky fetched you to go home. Or until he got so drunk that he just left without you- you could probably live in this restaurant, you’re sure you remember seeing a comfy looking couch in the foyer.

After a solid 10 minutes, your tears slowly dried out and you held your head in your hands, staring down at the pristine floor of the bathroom. Black and white marble tiles, spotless. Not a single speck of dust. It almost made you miss going to the clubs with your friends and marvelling at the laughably gross bathroom floors.

A knock sounded on the other end of the bathroom door and your heart dropped, “It’s Steve.” Relief. Just Steve. You stood on shaky legs and slowly opened the door for Steve, “Hey-“

You don’t know what took over you. As soon as he stepped foot into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, you just hugged him. To be fair, he did hold out open arms and the remorse on his face basically invited you in. But you’re glad that you did it, you really needed that hug.

He shushed you softly as you cried into his chest, rubbing your back.

“He’s so fucking mean.” You sniffled, basking in the feeling of just being held- it’s been a while.

Steve hesitated to speak for a moment, figuring out the right words to say that wouldn’t get him in trouble with you, Bucky or Tony, “He’s just trying to keep you safe.” Pulling your head from his chest, you look up at him utterly perplexed. That was keeping you safe? “You’ve become more than just a trophy wife to him and he can’t have that out there because then they know his weakness.” He knows he shouldn’t have said it, but it’s not exactly the truth or a lie. “Look, Tony brings out the worst in everyone- but especially Bucky… he has expectations and he’s very hard to please.” He quickly changes the subject to something more relevant, but worries about the far-off look you have as his words seemingly go in one ear and out the other.

“Is he cheating on me?” You ask him simply. You want to add ‘With Natasha?’ but don’t. You don’t even know why you asked in the first place- as if he’d even tell you over his best friend. But you trust Steve… maybe more than you do your own husband, and you just needed to hear it yourself… even if it was a lie.

Steve furrows his brows, looking down at your small and cowering form in his arms before shaking his head, “No, of course not.”

Never mind, it does no justice.

Shaking your head, you swallow the thick lump in your throat that had been growing ever since you entered the bathroom, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” You look up at Steve hesitantly, and he looks back down at you, half knowing what you’re going to say but also half hoping it’s not what he thinks… for Bucky’s sake, “I think I want a divorce.”

-

The ride home was painfully silent. The tension of the air was so thick it was almost unbreathable. Or maybe you were just having a panic attack and your throat was just closing in on you.

You tried to position yourself as far away from Bucky as possible. Legs tilting to the right, your whole body leaning against the door and looking out the window. Never not once did you pay him any attention or even breathe in his direction, scared you might do something wrong and make him yell at you again.

He didn’t end up getting so drunk he forgot about you. No, unfortunately, after your confession to Steve, you were led out of the bathroom and back to the table where you’d sat quietly until the end of the night. You didn’t speak a word, no matter how much Bucky looked over at you.

It was only when your home came into view that you felt like you could breathe again.

You couldn’t wait to just hide out in your bedroom, praying that Bucky would probably sleep on the couch tonight.

You got out of the car yourself, not bothering to wait for Bucky to open the door for you to get out like he usually did. That stopped a while ago…

You swear you heard him softly call your name as you basically ran up the stairs and into the warm embrace of your home.

Despite it basically being his house, full of his things and where he resided, you had still found a lot of comfort in it. It was the only place you really knew for the past few months and it really was home. Too bad the person you shared it with decreased that value the second he walked in after you.

As you slipped off your heels in the foyer, cautious not to scratch any of the floors with them, Bucky was able to catch up to you. It was literally like he was chasing you and you felt your heart race.

“I’m sorry.” He finally said as he caught up to you, shutting the door behind him. You paid him no mind, just grabbed your heels and began ascending the stairs, “Y/N-“ He calls again, this time hot on your trail, gripping your arm and shoving you against the wall, “I said I was sorry!”

You flinch, both because- well, he basically threw you against the wall and you feared he was going to do much worse. Your head hurt from where it collided with the wall, it seemed all the oxygen was knocked out of your lungs and your arm stung from his touch.

But the way he looked at you, it was like he was the one that got hurt. Tears had welled in his eyes almost instantly as you softly gasped for air and stared down at his retracting hand in fear. Pure fear.

As if you could look any smaller. The wall was almost swallowing you whole with the way you were backing into it, anything to get away from Bucky.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Bucky fumbles out.

You barely move an inch, too scared that it’ll set him off.

In a hesitant manner, Bucky descends the few set of stairs left and heads for the door. Hand hovering over the doorknob for a split second before opening it and shutting softly.

You found that it was only when he shut the door behind him that were you able to move again. You slumped against the wall, body no longer tense, sliding down to bring your knees against your chest.

You didn’t know why you were so surprised. Why you had gone into this relationship so blindly. Of course he would put his hands on you. He’s killed people for far little reason.

As Bucky pulls out of the driveway, he stops at the gates to talk to Pietro, the guard on duty.

“Watch her.”

He went to the first place he could think of. Steve’s.

He knew Steve would give him the best advice, tell him how it make it right. Only, even Bucky wasn’t sure there was a way to come back from this.

He wouldn’t even blame you if you’d already packed your bags and tried to leave.

Pulling up to Steve’s driveway, a common occurrence of late, he takes two steps at a time as he ascends the small staircase to the front door. Once reaching it, he pounds his fist again the wood until it’s swinging open in surprise.

“What the fuck, Buck-” Steve asks, having been woken up by Bucky’s abrupt pounding- however, softens his features and voice as he looks over his distressed state, “Are you okay?”

“I-“ Bucky shakes his head, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?” Steve is genuinely worried, knowing Bucky wasn’t one to crack so easily, so whatever it was had to be bad, “What happened?” … What Steve didn’t know however, was that it wasn’t something done to Bucky, rather, what Bucky had done… to you.

Uncaring to the tears that well up in his eyes, too overpowered by the shame that rises in his throat, he averts his gaze away from Steve’s, “I… got angry.” Steve manages to connect the dots from that sentence alone and from the way he tenses up a little in disappointment, Bucky is quick to tell the rest of the story, “I didn’t hit her, I just grabbed her and… threw her up against the wall.” Not that it sounded any better.

Steve’s heaves a heavy sigh, unable to find the right words to console his best friend at the moment. He was his best friend, sure, but he hurt you… physically.

“I was trying to apologise, she wouldn’t listen.” Bucky continued to try and redeem himself but it’s really no use. There was no exception as to why he had to put his hands on you like that, “I didn’t mean for it to happen, I just wanted her to hear me out… She looked so scared, Steve.”

Steve didn’t say a word. He didn’t know what to say. But he knew what Bucky was here for, so he opened up the door to his house and let Bucky sleep in the guest bedroom.

-

You weren’t sure if Bucky came back that night. You didn’t know if you wanted him to.

Part of you knew he obviously regretted what he’d said and done that night, throwing you up against the wall inclusive in that. But he still did it.

However, in saying that, you still worried of his whereabouts. You didn’t know what he was capable of. He knew people and places, he had money and weapons. Those factors don’t exactly mix well, especially in his line of work.

After crying a bit longer and a steaming bath, you got ready for bed. Sleep was no longer your best friend, seeing as you could never get it anymore. There was just so much on your mind at all times, you were scared, you felt sick, you were alone. This big looming cloud above you always told you it was about the fear of the unknown.

You didn’t know what your future was gonna be like, where your husband was, when you’d be allowed to see your friends again, when you would get a good nights rest, when you’d start a family, how different life would be with your parents here, who was currently hacking into all of your credit cards and digital accounts to find the location of a particular sum of money your father owed Tony…

Natasha was who. She had tapped into all your cards, your phones, everything that was once private to you and your parents, now visible to her and Tony.

Of course, you would never know this. At least not now, perhaps later in a few years when you decide to finally check the whereabouts of this money and find it missing from your possession.

Natasha searched and searched through years worth of activity before finally finding it. The money. Tony’s money.

“It’s in the bank.” She gasps, staring at the screen in front of her.

Tony just stares at Natasha blankly, “Are you fucking kidding?” He rounds her to view the computer screen, the bank account detailing the money simply sitting in a safety deposit box. Tony laughs now, unbelieving in how easy this now is, how easy it supposedly always was.

The idea of the money being in safety deposit box was simply too stupid to even consider. No one in their right mind, who knew the value of that money, would just leave it in a place like a safety deposit box. Except, of course, you. Not exactly that you were an idiot… but you didn’t know the value.

And Tony quickly came to the conclusion that your fathers death came far too soon for him to have been able to plan the safety of that money in a place where it would do you no harm.

And so, the following morning of that discovery, Natasha and Bucky set out to retrieve the money. The plan was to transform Natasha into you the best they could- which meant 5 hours in a makeup chair and an hour rehearsing questions with each other to make it seem as real as possible that she was you and that she was married to Bucky.

(a/n: i’m very sorry to my non-yt readers, i didn’t even think of the issue with that^^^ and natasha turning into reader while writing bc i was just wanting to get this story out so fast. pls imagine it as any marvel woman u like. idk how i missed that i’m literally asian. but i’m sorry if i offended anyone.)

To be fair though, half the questions they rehearsed in the event of an emergency where they would need to know these random facts about each other, Bucky doubted you even knew the answers to them anyway and vice versa.

Clammy hand in clammy hand, Bucky and Natasha walk the steps to the bank. The two of them both have ear pieces for Tony to communicate with them if need be, but they’ve been doing this kind of undercover work for a while now. They know what they’re doing.

So it’s not exactly awkward anymore to have to be close to one another, to kiss or to even fake sex when they need to. It’s all part of the job.

They’re granted entry through to the vault simply by the ID’s Bucky had stolen from you early this morning. Natasha’s wig and literal prosthetics served their purpose well in convincing the bank teller.

A notary walks them down to the vaults, carrying the certificate of the box’s contents- something Natasha will take care of later.

It’s music to Tony’s ears hearing the locks of the vault click and it was only when he heard Natasha softly gasp that he wished he strapped them with body cams to be able to see the money.

“Lot of money.” The notary speaks, it’s almost comical the way her eyes light up, like there are actual dollar signs in her eyes, “Set for life.”

“Yeah.” Natasha smiles, squeezing Bucky’s hand out of pure excitement, “We wanna travel the world before we start having kids and figuring out what to do with the rest of the money. It helps to physically have it.”

Using the briefcase Bucky had brought with him, he begins stacking the money inside, communicating with the notary of everything he’s taking out and Natasha keeps a close eye on her body language, making sure she still believes this is just a happily married couple wanting to take out some money for a round the world vacation.

“30 million, huh? You travelling on a private jet?” She continued to marvel at the money, “You sure your Dad wasn’t in the mob?”

Natasha almost chokes at the question. Something in her malfunctions- probably stunned at the amount of money before her very eyes and for some reason she just nervously laughs in response. This only causes the notary, who was initially joking, to slowly furrow her brows.

“Oh! No, no, no. He invested a lot of money and was very good at his job.” Natasha quickly chokes out and the notary just nods in relief, “I can assure you he was definitely not in the mob. He put ‘em in jail!”

Bucky smiles along as the two of them laugh, but really he’s laughing at the way Natasha, after many, many years of undercover work, finally cracked. And for something so little. He would never let her live down the day she almost blew their cover and neither would any one else after he tells them.

After signing of the certificate, and shaking hands with each other, the notary bids them a farewell, “Keep it safe.”

It takes everything in Bucky and Natasha not to scream at the top of their lungs and frolic to the van where Tony and Steve are. But once they get inside that van and Steve speeds towards the office, “We fucking did it!”

-

“Ow.” You hiss, dropping the knife and pulling your hand towards you. You examine the finger that’s now covered in blood and wince at the big gash that’s exposing bone, “Oh, God. Shit.”

Not caring to drop blood all over the floor, you quickly make it to your phone and call for the home doctor that Bucky told you to call in case of an emergency. 911 was never an option for you, unless it was a fire or death. You were to call Bucky, Steve, Sam or Pietro if you needed police, Dr. Banner for the ambulance. If you or someone else was really dying and needed immediate help than the ambulance was permissible. You didn’t understand, but it had something to do with his job, of course, so you didn’t question it any further.

In the meantime, you covered the cut with a towel, told Pietro about the doctor so that he’d at least be let in without interrogation and then sat down at the kitchen island.

He came surprisingly fast actually and even had a siren on his car. It was the first time you would meet him so your expectations were very low.

But he patched you up nicely. He was extremely gentle and not how you imagined a… mob doctor to be at all. He made nice conversation too, seemed genuine.

Anyway, he had glued the cut shut with medical glue and cleaned you up, wrapping it in a thick bandage to fully secure it.

He gave you some medication for the pain and antibiotics. He seemed to have all these medications on hand… granted, you did tell him over the phone your situation so you’re sure he would’ve grabbed the necessities, but still… what else did he have?

“Can I ask you a question?” You asked stupidly, cringing at the way you worded it.

But he doesn’t care, he just nods, continuing to pack away his stuff, “Of course.”

“Is… there anything you could prescribe me with for sleep?” You ask and he stops what he’s doing, giving you a slight easier brow, “I-I can’t sleep much anymore and it’s driving me crazy I think. I feel so weak all the time… and I’m dizzy.”

“Sure it’s not the finger? The blood and bone might be making you woozy.”

You scoff, shaking your head, “I’m pretty sure it’s why I cut my finger.”

He gives you a once over, observing the dark circles around your eyes, the slight paleness of your skin. Part of him wondered if you really were sleepless, or just found yourself in addiction… but the way you asked him when you sure as hell could’ve just sought it out yourself told Bruce that you were telling the truth, “I’ll prescribe you something light.” He finishes packing away the last of his things and you nod gratefully. “I’ll send a prescription up to the pharmacy, it should be ready in a few hours and I’ll have it delivered ASAP.”

-

A celebratory dinner party was in order for Stark Industries that night. Expensive alcohol, even more expensive drugs. More so for Tony than anyone else.

But, Bucky quickly grew tiresome of it all. His mission was basically complete, and until Tony came down off his high, he still had about… maybe 3 days left with you. 3 full days of redoing exactly what you’d done together on his one day off, except this time even being allowed out. He fully planned to rekindle your relationship, makeup for every wrong he did you and persuade Tony into keeping you around… and you into staying.

Jogging up the stairs, he hoped you weren’t asleep just yet. It was late but not too late, and he wanted to talk, possibly persuade you into a shower before making it up to you with sex.

As he pushed open the door to your shared bedroom, your sleeping form nestled in the sheets of the bed made his heart swell.

Well… perhaps he’ll wait until morning then. Breakfast in bed! It’s like better than sex, right?

He couldn’t help himself though. He rounded your side of the bed and knelt to be level with you. He smoothed out your hair, lowkey hoping it would wake you… certain it would because of how light you slept.

He tucked the hair behind your ear and placed a kiss to your forehead. Again, he waited for you to at least shift, hitch your breath or for your closed eyelids to flutter… nothing.

“Y/N?” He shakes you a little. He’s aware he still knows little about you, but… something felt off. You still don’t wake and now hes starting to freak out. He grabs your wrist and checks your pulse, heart dropping when he realises how slow it is, “Honey? Are you- Can you hear me?” Frantically, he reaches for his phone but a bottle of pills on your bedside table catch his eye.

He immediately calls Dr Banner, almost threatening him to come to the house. Then he calls Steve. He’s gonna need help with the body.

Once he’s off the phone with Steve, he’s quickly back to you, ripping the blankets off of you and working his knuckles against your sternum. Tony taught him that.

He continues to call your name, softer now as he tries to keep calm. The sudden intake of air and the slow flutter of your eyes is probably the best moment of Bucky’s life.

“Hey, hey- Y/N, stay awake, baby.” He pinches the back of your arm as well before caressing your face in reassurance, “You’re okay.”

It takes a while for you to come to, but the moment you rasp out Bucky’s name and reach a hand out for him is when he finally relaxes.

The moment is short-lived however, as Steve enters the bedroom with Dr. Banner, Pietro following close by.

“What seems to be the proble-“

“You gave her fucking quaaludes?” Bucky’s on him in a split second, confident in Steve taking over keeping you awake, “You fucking work for Rumlow or something?”

Bruce furrows his brows, shaking his head frantically as Bucky latches onto the lapels of his coat, “N-no, I gave her valium.”

Steve asked you a few questions that you accidentally ignored, too concerned with Bucky and the nice doctor. You wanted to speak, to defend Banner but it tired you just thinking about speaking. You felt so weak, all your muscles felt deflated and your head felt heavy- even though you were literally laying down.

“This look like a fucking valium to you?” Bucky shoves the bottle into his face, “Why’d you give her valium anyway, you tryna drug her?”

“He came by earlier.” Pietro speaks, causing Bucky to raise his brow, expecting an explanation.

“She cut her finger with a knife and called me here. I fixed the cut, but she said she can’t sleep. I didn’t want to give her something that directly aids with sleep, so I just prescribed a light sedative.” Banner quickly explains, “I have the prescription somewhere in my bag-“

Bucky does believe him. He does. He’s trusted Banner with his life countless times before. So, it’s not making any fucking sense and it’s only making Bucky angrier, “Then how the fuck does she have quaaludes?”

“Buck-“ Steve intervenes for the first time, fearing for the poor doctors life.

Though Bucky doesn’t pay Steve any mind, he does loosen up his hold on Bruce’s coat a little and backs up a little from his face, “How’d you get the medication to her?”

“I didn’t. I prescribed it and it was delivered.”

“Where from?”

“The pharmacy warehouse… Maybe- see who packaged it.” Banner suggests, nodding to the bottle still in Bucky’s hand.

Bucky flips the bottle all around, looking for the label and any words indicating the name of his next victim. Looking over the fine print, his eyes skim over the jumble of words until he finds it.

‘Filled and packaged by Rollins, J.’

Before Bucky could even react, before he could even see red at the idea of Rumlow hitting so close to home, Steve calls out, “Buck,” Bucky turns and sees Steve gripping onto his phone in one hand and yours in the other, his phone lit up with the incoming call screen, the name of the caller… “It’s Fury.”

Bucky hitches a breath at the name. Fury. Calling Steve.

Fury only ever called if something had happened to Tony.

They know what to do, even if Bucky is torn between choosing work over you yet again. But this time it’s serious.

“Stay here with her. Make sure she hasn’t OD’d.” He orders Banner, “Pietro, watch him.”

Steve and Bucky exit the room and take the call from Banner, putting it on speaker as they linger further from the bedroom.

“The wars starting.” Fury speaks, “Rumlow messed with Tony’s coke. He almost died, Pepper had to stab him with adrenaline. Called an ambulance for safe measures.”

“Fuck.” Bucky mutters.

“He’ll be okay. He’s already up walking around and being a bitch.” There’s slight humour to his words and it at least makes Steve and Bucky feel a little better knowing that Tony wasn’t dead, “Rumlow knows we have the money and he’s not stopping until he gets it.”

“What do we do?” Steve asks.

The line is silent for a brief moment, “Start planning how to kill him.” The pair exchange unreadable looks to each other. It’s hard to tell whether they’re excited or scared… probably shocked is the best description as of right now, “Come to the tower as soon as you can, we’ll go on lockdown and devise a plan.”

The call quickly ends as Fury most likely has to get back to phoning every one else and gathering them at the tower for their safety.

But before Bucky can go back to the interrogation in his bedroom, he just shakes his head, bringing up two hands to run over his face and smooth out his hair.

“Even in my own house, I can’t protect her.” He rants, looking down at the floor, “I gotta send her away to the safe house or something-“

“They’ll always find her.” Steve interrupts, knowing damn well that now, more than ever, Rumlow would be targeting you in order to get to Bucky, to ultimately get the money.

Sending you to a safe house, all alone? He might as well just hand you over to Brock in that case.

“Not in Romania.” Bucky looks up at Steve now, who blinks at him a little stunned.

“Tony-“

“Fuck Tony. She’s my wife and I vowed to keep her safe.” Bucky snaps, “He’ll barely even notice and he’ll probably be glad she’s out of his hair, if anything.”

Steve figured he can’t argue with that, however at this current point in time, the pair have bigger fish to fry and need to get to the tower if they want to even consider their futures at all.

“Come on.”

-

As Bucky and Steve left the room, Bruce had approached you and you offered him a look of sympathy as an apology for the way Bucky had handled him.

He just smiled at you in return, silently telling you it was okay as took your heart rate and blood pressure. Giving you some cold water, you were able to sit up now and you felt a little better- still extremely groggy. That was the best way you could describe it.

“Do you have any particular concerns?” Bruce asks you and the striking pain in your lower half reminds you of such.

“My stomach,”

“Abdominal cramps?” Bruce asks, almost expectantly and you nod as he does too, “I might put you in for an X-Ray at the lab. It’s common to cramp up, but just wanna make sure he didn’t lace it with anything else.” He explains and you’re a little reassured that he knows what he’s doing.

Just as he packs away his things, Bucky and Steve renter the room. From their expressions and body language alone, you’re unable to tell what exactly happened on the phone call, but they do look… tense… er than usual.

As Bucky catches your eye, he’s reminded of the current predicament you’re in and looks to Bruce for updates on your status, “If it’s okay, I think it’s best to take her back to the lab at the tower to do some further testing, just to be safe.”

Bucky nods almost immediately, “Fury wants us all at the tower anyway. Going on lockdown.”

“Why?” Bruce asks, concern laced throughout his voice and from the way they’re interacting with each other now- it’s hard to believe that they were just at each other’s throats a few minutes ago.

“Tony got hit.” You, Pietro and especially Bruce all furrow your brows in concern. Hit? What does that mean? Like punched? Shot?

“Is he okay?”

“Adrenaline shot came in handy.” Steve nods and Bruce sighs softly in relief.

Adrenaline? Drugs? Like Pulp Fiction? What is going on?

“I might go ahead and check on him. I’ll meet you at the tower?” He asks, though it seems he already has answer by the way he’s zipping up his bag and heading for the door.

Bucky just pats him on the back and allows for him to leave.

Steve goes off into your wardrobe now and pulls out three black duffel bags you didn’t even know you owned and lays them out on Bucky’s side of the bed.

Bucky rounds the bed to you now, “Are you okay to walk?” He asks and you just nod, still very confused at what’s happening, even more so as Steve starts packing… guns into the duffel bags? “Alright, get changed and Pietro will take you downstairs. You just wait there, we’ll be down soon.” You just nodded again, still a little too in pain to talk as the cramp remained in your stomach.

Bucky helped you up from the bed and led you to the wardrobe where he helped you pick out a change of clothes to wear. Like Steve, he’d found another duffel while you changed and from what you saw, started packing all your essential clothing items. You were surprised he even knew which ones to grab having barely seen you wear them as often as you did to know that those were the ones you would take with you in a situation like this.

After you were changed, he continued to pack and handed you off to Pietro, who took you downstairs and made you wait on the couch while he went to go get the car ready.

You weren’t alone for long, because Bucky and Steve had descended the stairs almost seconds later with one bag slung over each shoulder, four in total.

Bucky had helped you off the couch once again and led you out to the front door while Steve locked up the whole of the house.

The car that Pietro had parked out the front of your house was different to the usual car you took. It wasn’t Bucky’s flash old Lincoln, it was the RAM truck he had buried in the corner of his 5 car garage.

You always figured it was for when it snowed or if you guys ever went camping somewhere.

Bucky helped you in the backseat, hand on your lower back as he gave you a push. You winced in pain as a particularly sharp cramp hit you, but you tried to hide it the best you could. Bucky went and helped Steve load stuff into the truck bed before rounding the car and sitting beside you, Steve sitting in the passenger side.

The wheels spun as Pietro gassed it out of the house.

You couldn’t help but notice the tenseness of the car. How Steve wasnt leaned back in his seat, how he stared out the window carefully. Plus the gun in his hand and the one resting against his leg on the floor.

You looked down, over at Bucky now. Same stance as Steve. Only one gun. His leg bounced anxiously as he looked around. After deeming the coast clear, he softly sighed and turned to you. You tried to avert your gaze as quick as you could, and hoped he didn’t see.

“You okay?” You look back at him now. His brows are slightly furrowed and he holds a small, almost apologetic, smile. You nod sheepishly and return a small, hesitant smile.

It’s late out and you haven’t seen a single car on the road so far. Pietro takes a few backstreets, but there were times where he’d run a fully red light and no one batted an eye. You found that your heart rate was quickening, so unsure of what was going on.

You quickly make it into the city- no thanks to Pietro’s driving and it’s not long before you’re driving down into the underground garage of the Stark Tower Complex.

Recognising the building from all the galas you’d attended in your younger years, you were even more confused as to why you were here. Didn’t they just say that Tony got ‘hit’? Why would they take you directly to the danger? Also where was Bruce? And where is his medical lab? It’s not in the tower is it?

Bucky offered his hand to you as you got out of the truck and you took it hesitantly. But you quickly figured it was for the better as your legs almost gave out underneath you once you found the ground.

He carried the duffel with all your things, whilst Steve carried the other two. Pietro went ahead and called for the elevator.

It was strange to be back here. It didn’t feel as fun anymore. Everytime you had come to this place, it was almost always for some kind of party or dinner or gala. Now it felt cold and tense- environments you’d definitely become accustomed to as of late but this just felt odd.

The elevator ride is pretty quiet except for Bucky and Steve talking in hushed voices. The dark lighting of the small metal box making your eyes feel heavy and you swore you almost fell asleep if it weren’t for the soft beep and the doors opening to a relatively busy floor.

You intake a quick, anxious breath at the sheer amount of people running around on the floor and you subconsciously tighten your grip in Bucky’s hand as the four of you walk out of the elevator.

Steve heads for the staircase and you all follow suit. On wobbly legs, you take the stairs one at a time, gripping both Bucky’s shoulder and the railing so hard your knuckles turn white. They couldn’t have made this a whole seperate floor that the elevator could’ve taken them too?

Reaching the top of the staircase, it was weird how it was suddenly a lot quieter. By the looks of it, this seemed like a residential floor? You didn’t know people lived here.

Steve takes you deeper into the hallway until you reach an unoccupied room. It’s a massive room, seemingly a mansion inside of an apartment. You thought it was unoccupied by the way no one was lingering about, but as you venture further into the room, you begin to hear hushed voices.

Entering the living space, you see a bunch of familiar faces. Sam, Natasha, other people who you forget the name of but distinctly remember one feature about them… for example, long hair guy, long hair guys brother with dark hair, young kid that looks prepubescent, blondie, old looking guy that flirts with Nat, Pietro’s sister, Pietro’s sisters husband.

“Why don’t you take Y/N to Bruce? Just make sure she gets there okay.” Bucky whispers to Pietro, who nods immediately and takes you from Bucky, leading you back out from where you’d just come from.

Great, more walking. But you’d much rather be out walking then in that room with everyone intensely staring at you.

“What is she doing here?” Tony asks Bucky in an aggressive, hushed whisper, sweat donning his forehead and he really does look like that scene from Pulp Fiction after Mia Wallace gets stabbed with adrenaline.

“Rumlow fucked with her medicine and almost killed her. Banners just making sure she’s okay.” Bucky quickly explains in the same hushed whisper, dismissing the pointed look Tony gives Bucky as he eyes the closed door that you’d just shut, “I couldn’t just leave her.”

Rolling his eyes, he motions for Steve and Bucky to join the rest of the team in the living area, “Come on, then, we got a war to win.”

-

Banner had sat you atop one of the medical tables in his lab. It was a flashy lab. You never expected for this tower to house anything like it at all, but from your journey to this place, it seemed this whole floor was just medical and science laboratories.

He monitored your blood pressure and your temperature. Took your urine and was now taking your blood. You winced as he inserted the needle into your arm, looking away from him so as to not pass out.

“I wanted to be a nurse, you know.” You try and make light conversation, both so that’s it not eerily silent and awkward and also to distract yourself from the needle in your arm.

“Really?”

“When I was really young.” You nod, “But I was never good with needles. And I wouldn’t have gotten into nursing school anyway.”

“Why not?” He asks, sounding thoroughly intrigued at your story now and now you’re starting to maybe regret bringing up this part of your life as a means to make conversation.

“I- Well, I could. If I bought my way in.” You said honestly, shrugging, “I just never had the right grades for that kind of thing.”

As he pulled the needle out of your arm and untied the belt, you watched as he put a small cotton ball and band-aid over where the needle had been inserted. You smiled a little at that, remembering times when your Mom would take you to get needles and injections and you’d always walk out with tears down your face, candy in hand and a cotton ball taped to your arm.

As he puts your tubes of blood into some special box, he helps you off the med table and walks you over to the X-Ray machine.

It intimidates you a little, the massive magnetic machine that you’ve heard extremely pleasant stories about. But you trust Bruce.

He gets you to take off any metal from your body, piercings, bobby pins, etc.

“Now,“ He sighs, “Any chance you could be pregnant?”

“Um…” You stuttered over your words, blinking at Bruce as you thought out your answer. You furrowed your brows in deep thought, trying to think back to the last time you and Bucky had sex- that in itself should be a good sign that you’re not pregnant, right? “No.” You answer.

He looks over you for a moment, before dropping his voice a little, “Are you sure?” He asks, “X Rays can be pretty dangerous for developing babies… Have you had intercourse this month?” You think a little bit harder now. Well, it’s pretty much been a silent war zone for the past few weeks- ever since your birthday. Oh, your birthday. You had sex that day, and that was like what? 4 weeks ago… maybe 3… oh only 2.

Plus, it’s not like you weren’t already having unprotected sex with Bucky long before that.

The look you give Banner when you realise just how possible it could be that you were pregnant, he rummages through his cupboards and hands you a pregnancy test, “Better safe than sorry.”

-

Pacing around the mini bathroom he lead you to had to be the worst 2 minutes of your life. Your heart was beating uncontrollably fast and your breathing was staggered.

You found yourself waiting longer than 2 minutes though, too scared to even think about the result of the test. After it was well past 5 minutes and you heard Bruce shuffling around outside the door, you knew it was best to just bite the bullet.

Opening the door, Bruce met you with a sincere expression, though a little concerned at your current state- unable to decipher the news, “Um-“ You can’t find the words that get caught in your throat as the positive test sits idly in your hand, “I’m-“

You’re not crying. Not yet at least. You’re just- at a loss for words. You’re pregnant. What’s Bucky going to think? Does he even want a child, let alone with you? Do you want this child? If Bucky doesn’t want it, but you do, then what?

As you look up Bruce now, it’s your turn to inhabit uncertainty in his expression. He offered you a small smile of congratulations at first, but it softly fled his face as he looked down at the test, “You said you had cramping?” He speaks finally and you nod tentatively, “Follow me.”

Clutching the test in your hand, you follow him as he leads you to another room. Similar to the last except instead of a big X-ray machine, it just has an exam table bed and a few other machines you don’t recognise.

He props you on top of the table and starts hooking you up to some machine.

“What’re you doing now?” You ask just to be sure, trying not to let it show how nervous you are.

“I’m just going to monitor the fetal heart rate.” He says reassuringly, pressing all different kinds of buttons on the machine, “And then I’ll do an ultrasound as well.”

You hesitate to ask your next question, too afraid of the answer… but he knows something you don’t and it’s eating away at you by the second, “Is something wrong?”

You almost missed the way he swallowed a small breath, looking up at you now with too much remorse and empathy that it only worried you even more, “Cramping can be a sign of a miscarriage.” Oh.

As the heart rate machine starts whirring and printing out the heartbeat, you don’t have the courage to look. Nor do you look at the screen of your ultrasound as he moves the wand across your stomach.

It didn’t matter that you weren’t looking anyway. You could hear it. Well, you couldn’t hear it… that was the problem. You had your answer already. There was no heartbeat.

As you swallow thickly, you finally turn to look at the piece of paper coming out of the monitor that clearly indicates a flat line. You still don’t look at the screen, afraid that if you’ll look- no matter what you already know, seeing it would just get your hopes up. Like there was still hope.

“I’m very sorry.” Bruce reaches out and rubs at your arm. It’s only a very small gesture, but God did you need it. It’s not like you could get it from anyone else. Not your parents, not Bucky.

Sniffling, and trying to blink away your tears you just shake your head, “Please don’t tell Bucky.” You whispers silently begging him with your eyes. You understand Bucky has every right to know, but you just can’t bring yourself to deal with all that right now.

“Of course.”

-

After that, Bruce had given you a moment to collect yourself. You were still yet to start violently sobbing, but you knew it would come later. You still needed to find out if anything in the medication you were drugged with had affected your body in any other way.

So you let Bruce do what he needed to do and finally got the all clear. Just your luck, however, Bucky had come to ‘pick you up’ as Bruce finished up.

He looked at you a little worriedly as you quickly dropped your head low and averted your gaze, but Bruce was quick to cover your tracks.

“She’s all okay.” He informs Bucky, “Just had to flush her system out.” He goes on to explain everything he’d done (excluding the other things of course) and Bucky just nods, every so often looking over you to make sure you were okay.

He didn’t press anything though, despite the fact that you looked visibly upset. He had just assumed you were upset with him for letting it all happen. He said it himself, he vowed to protect you when he married you and he couldn’t even do that.

It was silent between the both of you as he walked you through the tower. He said something about taking you back to the room you’d be staying in while you’re here, so that was reassuring. You could do with a good sleep right about now.

You no longer cared if everyone was still in the living area by the time you entered the room. You didn’t really care about anything. They could all go to hell for all you cared. They never cared about you so why should you worry about them.

They’re not even there anyway, so it didn’t matter. But you still kept your head down as Bucky took you into the room you’d be staying in.

It was big. Too big maybe. Just reminded you of how much space you didn’t need.

Bucky said something along the lines of ‘make yourself at home’ or something but you barely heard it. Ever since you’d left Bruce’s lab, it was like there was this persistent rigging in your ears.

You just nodded to whatever Bucky had said and let your feet take you into the bathroom.

You needed a shower. You felt dirty. You just wanted to wash away all the imprints left on your body from the last 24 hours. And you needed to cry. Long and hard.

It was mostly silent, knowing Bucky was right outside the door and would most likely hear it if you just let go.

Again, you easily lost track of time and the only way you knew that you had spent way too long in the shower was your pruney fingers. Also Bucky’s soft knocking on the bathroom door with a call of your name.

You stopped the shower, but dreaded coming out. You somehow still looked a mess. It was definitely obvious that you had been crying, but maybe you could lie and say you just got soap in your eyes.

You didn’t respond to Bucky, but he didn’t bother you again.

Standing in front of the mirror now, you frowned softly at the reflection of your stomach. Bruce had said something about letting it pass, but something inside you still held onto strands of hope that it was still alive. Your stomach showed no physical indication of it, but a girl could dream, right?

Getting re-dressed into your clothes for the night and brushing out your wet hair, you sighed to yourself and swallowed a nervous breath before opening the bathroom door.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks almost immediately and it takes a lot in you to not just fall to the ground and cry.

Instead, you keep your eyes to the ground and just walk past him to the other side of the bed, “M’fine.” You mumble, shoving your legs under the covers.

It’s silent then and you think that he’d given up- left it at that. But no.

He sighs first, rubbing his hands over his face before turning to observe your turned back to him under the blanket. He wishes he could just reach out and hold you and apologise and tell you everything was gonna be okay- that things were about to be a lot different. But he could really only do one of those things right now.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.” He says, but it’s sound more like a plead if anything, “I want nothing more than for you to be safe and healthy… It’s hard though with everything going on.” He waits for you to respond, in any way- a shrug, a nod, a twitch in your leg, but it never comes, so he just continues, “That’s why you’re gonna go to my safe house in Romania for a few weeks.”

Now he has your attention.

Coming to rest on your elbows now, you lift your upper half and turn your head to look at him- for some reason, you hoped to think that he was just joking, but his face told you he was dead serious, “What?” You ask, your voice a little hoarse as you raised the volume for the first time that day.

“Just until the war is over and Rumlow is dead.”

“Do I even get a choice?” You ask, cutting your eyes at him and trying to decipher what the fuck he’s getting at with this, “You wouldn’t even let me leave the house but you’ll gladly ship me off to some foreign country-“

“You’ll be allowed out over there.” He tries to add like it makes it any better.

“That’s not the fucking point, what about my say in this?” Your voice breaks countless times and you curse yourself for sounding so weak.

“You don’t know how dangerous it’s gonna get here. It’s not safe for you to be with me right now.” He argues back a little.

You just scoff in response, sitting up now and turning your back away from him, “Yeah.” You agree. Yeah, it not safe for you to be with him at all.

Catching your words, he gets a little angrier now, “It’s not like I wanted any of this to happen!” He instantly regrets his voice, seeing how you flinch a little and even from behind, he can see how you’re scared. But when he hears you cry, he didn’t realise you were that scared of him, “Y/N?” He stands from his side and rounds the bed to come to your side now, kneeling in front of you and taking your hands in his.

Tears continue to fall down your face and you try everything to hide away from Bucky, but it’s no use.

“I lost a baby.”

You don’t know what came over you to come clean, but the words came out faster than you realised. It was more of a whimper, and part of you hoped Bucky hadn’t heard it- but from the look on his face, you know he did.

“You- what?”

Wiping your eyes, it takes you a moment to speak, “Banner made me take a pregnancy test before I did my X-Ray and it came back positive.” Bucky’s eyes light up the tiniest bit hearing the more positive part of the story, despite fully knowing that you had still lost the baby, “But I lost it. He said that I was probably stressed, and also quaaludes aren’t supposed to be taken when pregnant.”

Shaking his head as you shamefully look down at him with tears streaming down your face, he gets up off his knees and wraps his arms around you.

You didn’t care whether or not he would want to have the baby with you or whether he even still loved you at that point. If he hated you for losing the baby, or if he thought your body was broken. You needed that fucking hug.

-

After watching you sleep for a good hour, making sure that you were properly down and finally at peace, Bucky stood on shaky legs and exited the bedroom, softly shutting the door behind him.

Without moving, he just rests his head against the door tiredly, shutting his eyes and allowed one lone tear to escape before wiping it at the sound of Steve behind him.

“You good?”

Turning around slowly, Bucky’s glad it was Steve to catch him instead of anyone else.

Shaking his head, Steve pulls his brows together concerned and steps closer to Bucky as he lets out a shaky breath, “Y/N was pregnant.” He finally reveals, heart dropping at the way Steve’s eyes lit up and then dimmed at the realisation of Bucky’s use of past tense… was, “She lost it.” Bucky painfully confirms.

Steve often knew what to do in a lot of situations that Bucky didn’t. But right now, Steve was stumped. He didn’t think there was any right thing to do in this situation actually, so instead he just pulls Bucky in for a much needed hug. It seems everyone needs one.

“I’m sorry, Buck.” He pats his back reassuringly.

Neither of them cared if someone were to walk in and see. Bucky didn’t care if he looked weak. He knew he was. He couldn’t even protect you, he couldn’t protect your unborn baby- he failed.

So he was going to do everything he could to redeem himself.

Pulling himself out of Steve’s embrace, he heads for Tony’s office, “I gotta see Tony-“

Steve is hot in Bucky’s trail, following after him closely knowing damn well this could go either one of two ways. Very good or very bad.

“Are you insane?” Tony asks, arms crossed as he stares Bucky down after hearing Bucky’s plea to hunt down Brock and kill him… now.

“No, I’m not. We can do it.”

“How? We only just found out what we’re dealing with.” Tony reminds him, pointing to his own chest. Brock was bold, smart and quick enough to kill Tony, what else was he capable of? Oh yeah, killing you and your baby, “We haven’t even discussed tactics, soldiers, a time, a damn place, Buck.”

“And? The best wars happened on a whim.” Bucky argues, continuing to stand his ground despite the many valid points Tony presents him.

“And too many people died. We’re not losing men for Rumlow. We devise a plan so that there’s no fatalities on our side- it’s simple as that and there’s no argument.” Tony says and it’s clear to everyone in the room that that’s the final decision.

But that doesn’t stop Bucky like it once would’ve, “Well, then I want to be the one to kill him.” He basically demands, a bold move that even has Steve’s heart racing in fear for his best friend, “I was the lead for the mission, I should get to do it.”

But Tony’s not as angry as everyone expected him to be, having just been ordered around. Instead, there’s a look of intrigue over his face as he leans against his desk, “Why? What’d he do to set you off?”

Looking over at Steve briefly, Bucky just now realises he has to come clean, “He almost killed you.” Bucky starts off with, too hesitant to say the next thing, but figured it’s best to just bite the bullet and come clean- as long as it lets him be the one to kill Brock, “He did the same to Y/N… And she was pregnant…”

Tony’s stare wavers as he blinks unceremoniously, “You idiot.” He stands from his desk now, pointing at Bucky, “You were strictly instructed not to get her pregnant-“

“She’s my wife.”

“Your fake wife! That you honestly should’ve divorced by now-“

“It’s not fake anymore. I love her.” Bucky confesses flat out, standing from his chair now too so that he’s face to face with Tony, “And it doesn’t even matter that I got her pregnant, okay? She lost the baby. Rumlow killed my fucking baby before I even knew it existed!”

There was a lot that made Tony Stark a ruthless business man. There was little that made him cry or even feel an ounce of sympathy. The same went for a lot of other men in the mob. But there was a big, thick red line that almost every man would draw, and that was at children. No child gets hurt.

For the first time in a long time, Tony’s features soften as he takes in Bucky’s words, “I’m sorry.”

“She didn’t deserve any of this.” Bucky shakes his head, not even berating himself for letting the tears start to fall in front of his very own boss- no matter how weak it made him seem, “We didn’t need to do all this to get the money-“

“Bucky, come on-“ Tony grabs at Bucky’s face to calm him down, using his thumbs to wipe away his tears, “Okay, I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. You’re right, she didn’t deserve any of this… and whether she did or not, he’s not getting away with killing any child.” Tony basically promises Bucky, “But we have to plan this carefully. I’ll let you call most of the shots, but you just have to trust me on this.”

“We start planning now.” Bucky demands and Tony just nods, staying true to his word, letting him call the shots,

“Okay.” He nods, patting his shoulder, “How about in the morning, I think everyone’s still sleeping-“ He smiles and also manages to get a small smile from Bucky.

-

Waking up in the soft, cushy, cold bed almost made you forget everything that had just happened in the last 24 hours. Almost. You don’t think it’s possible to ever forget losing a child.

Sitting up in bed now, you stare out the large window that oversees basically the whole of New York. You liked people watching whenever you were in high buildings- it gave you some kind of strange comfort knowing that you weren’t the only person in the world who was going through something. It reminded you that everyone had their own little lives, their own issues. Sometimes it would freak you out just how many people lived in New York also but that was a thought for another day.

The opening of the bedroom door made you turn your head, relief flooding through you that it was just Bucky and not one of his coworkers coming to kick you out.

He smiled at you warmly, muttering a small ‘hey’ and sitting next to you on the bed cautiously, “Are you feeling okay?”

All you can do is nod in response. It was a bit of a silly question, of course you weren’t okay, but you appreciated that he was… trying, “Are you still sending me to Romania?”

“Not if you don’t want to.” You’re a little caught by surprise at how he’s giving you the option to decide whether or not you want to go to Romania, as opposed to last night when it seemed as if he was just going to throw you onto the next flight and see you later. You shake your head, “Then no.” You sigh gladly and give him a small thankful smile, “I’m really sorry, for everything… I just wanted you safe.” He begins and today… you really feel like he’s being genuine. Moving a careful hand up, you interlock your hand with his and squeeze, sort of as a way of telling him that you forgive him, “I’m sorry.”

Looking up at him, closer than you’re used to, but not a complete stranger to, you finally see the dark circles under his eyes, his bloodshot eyes, the small stubble growing on his cheeks. Bringing up your other free hand, you caress the spiky stumble, “Are you okay?”

Smiling, he places a hand over yours and just holds it against his face for a moment, “Yeah, I’m okay.” He moves your hand and places a kiss to it before both of you move in sync to rest in each other’s embrace, a long awaited- and of course, very much need interaction, “I promise it’ll all be over soon.” He kisses into your hair.

You’d spent the rest of the day exploring the tower by yourself. You had nothing else to do and Bucky was- you guessed it- at work.

But he’d told you that tonight would be the last night he’d be at work for a long time and that after tonight, he wanted to plan a vacation with you. Anywhere of your choice.

The tower seemed like this never ending maze and you were surprised by just how much actually fit inside it.

By the time you’d seemingly explored every square inch of the building and returned back to the living area, it was empty. There were a few people lingering when you had began your journey, but they were seemingly long gone now.

You furrowed your brows, honestly a little unnerved at how eerily silent it now was. So, you sat yourself down on the plush couch and turned on the TV- which of course had every channel, movie and tv show that ever existed- which meant you were well-occupied until Bucky would come back from wherever the hell he was.

-

“Shit!” Steve mutters, clenching his eyes shut as he clutches his bleeding leg.

“Steve!” Bucky yells, looking over at his best friend on the ground, quite literally watched on helplessly as the bullet disappeared into Steve’s thigh.

Seeing Sam run toward Steve, Bucky’s blood boils as he searches frantically for Brock in the sea of flames and rubble. Spotting the little rat, Bucky quickly aims his gun and shoots blindly into the general direction.

He can’t see much, but from the way a loud yelp rings throughout the building, Bucky knows he hit someone.

Tony and Natasha run back to the car now, not a single scratch on them as they immediately aid Steve.

Seeing as everyone was making their way back to the cars now, it was clear that the warehouse had been cleared out and that many- if not all, of Brocks men had either been killed or scared off.

But that’s not what Bucky wanted. He wanted Brock dead and what Bucky wants, Bucky gets.

“Get him to the tower!” Bucky orders Sam before fully bottling towards the warehouse.

“Bucky!” He hears Tony yell, but ignores it as he pulls out his smaller pistol.

Entering the now desolate warehouse with multiple bodies covering the floor, Bucky can hear Rumlow scurrying about like the rodent he is and smiles to himself. Spotting the bundle of gas pipes with danger signs planted all along the walls above it, Bucky shoots each pipe until he hears the burst of each one.

Then, slowly back away from the pipes towards the door, he pulls out the lighter from his boot, flicks it on and chucks it straight to the gas-leaking pipes.

He runs as fast as his feet can take him, until he finds himself on the floor. The brunt of the explosion too big and loud for Bucky to keep running. But he’s not dead- well, he hopes not.

He sees a light- but usually there’s only one bright light, right? Why are there two?

Sam skids the car to a halt right in front of Bucky as Tony jumps out and pulls him into the car like he did with Steve not too long ago, before Sam is jumping back in the drivers seat and revving off back to the tower.

-

You were half asleep by the time you’d heard the rumble of commotion coming from the elevators.

Your eyes shot open and you frantically sat up, worried that it was all finally happening. ‘The war’ that Bucky had always talked about. They’d find you and torture you and keep you hostage- maybe even kill you.

As you come to your sense and look over at the elevator, you’re relieved to see Bucky- but that relief is short lived when you see him covered in dirt and blood, “Oh my God-“ You stand from the couch, gasping abruptly when you see the rest of them carrying Steve who looks close to passing out- possibly death if you didn’t know any better.

“Where’s Banner?” Bucky asks you, having tried reaching Bruce multiple times on the way here, to not avail.

“Wh- Supply run.” You answer, remembering him coming up to the floor you’re on now and informing you he’d be back soon.

“Fuck.” Bucky mutters, “Okay. Go upstairs-“

Ignoring Bucky’s order, too distracted in the way Steve is literally bleeding out all over the marble floor whilst the others cluelessly try and console him, you realise you have to step.

“Steve-“ You approach him as they set him on the couch, assessing the bullet wound in his thigh, you grab the think blanket draped over the end of the couch and rip a long strip off the end with ease, tying it harshly above Steve’s thigh to stop the bleeding. He winces in pain as you tie the knot and you feel so bad for hurting him, “I’m sorry.” Looking down at the bullet hole, you realise that it’s gonna be best if the fabric of his pants aren’t in the way, “Hey, stay awake.” You slap his face softly, seeing his eyes slowly drift close but jolt awake when you make contact with his skin.

“Banners coming up.” Bucky announces and you just nod.

“Someone get me scissors?” You ask frantically and Natasha quickly jogs to the kitchen and back with a pair of scissors. You continue to repeatedly apologise as you cut around the wound, removing the fabric from his sticky skin causing him to groan.

Once the fabric is removed and you feel you’ve done the best you could to make sure Bruce can properly remove the bullet, you slap Steve’s face a few more times to make sure he stays awake.

When Bruce arrives on the floor, he quickly takes over, not even bothering to move Steve to the med lab, instead just getting to work and removing the bullet.

You left the scene to go wash your hands. Somehow you’d managed to get Steve’s blood on your hands and shirt.

You hoped he was going to be okay. You’re almost certain he would be, but you hope he doesn’t have to amputate his leg or anything. Though, it would be cool you guess- especially because Bucky. Metal arm, metal leg. Besties.

After you changed your shirt and washed yourself clean, you exited the bathroom to find Bucky just now entering the bedroom.

“Is he okay?” You ask, assuming Banner had finished taking out the bullet from Steve’s leg now that Bucky was no longer out there.

“Yeah, he’ll be alright.” He nods, “Banner said you did good stopping the bleeding and keeping him awake.”

Whatever Bucky said, goes in one ear and out the other as you eye the blood spots that stain his shirt from the inside.

“You’re hurt.” You tell him, approaching him to get a proper look at his injuries which just so happen to be small cuts and forming bruises.

“I’m fine.” He waves you off, “I’m not shot.”

Shaking your head, you make him sit down on the bed and rifle through your duffel bag to fetch the first aid kit you saw in there once before.

Grabbing the rubbing alcohol and a few bandages you pour some of the liquid onto a cotton pad before softly pressing it against the fresh cuts, the sting causing Bucky to flinch and wince.

“Sorry.” You apologise, wiping the cuts clean so that they won’t infect into something much worse, and bandaging them up.

“Thanks.” He mumbles after you patch up the last small injury, smiling down at you as you pack away the things back into the kit.

“Did you kill that guy?” You ask curiously, connecting the dots earlier that ‘The War’ had in fact started and was the cause of the teams dishevelled state.

“Probably.” Bucky shrugs, “Blew up his warehouse with him inside it. Killed all his men. If I didn’t kill him, then it definitely won’t be long. He can’t survive without them.”

“That’s good.” You nod, and despite the fact that Bucky didn’t exactly know for sure if he had killed that Brock guy, you still felt an abundance of relief knowing he probably wouldn’t be causing you any trouble anytime soon, “Y-you should shower.”

“Do I stink that bad?”

“You’ll thank me later.”

-

Despite Bucky promising you that after yesterday, he’d take you on a long vacation to any location of your choosing, that wasn’t exactly the case.

There were a lot of legal matters to take care of to cover their tracks in killing all of Rumlows men and Tony and Bucky had basically worked with their authority friends all day to conjure up an alibi as to what happened that night that wouldn’t land them all in prison.

You didn’t entirely mind. Now wasn’t the exact appropriate time to go on vacation anyway and besides, if you were on vacation, then who would look out for Steve?

Everyone else was so busy dealing with the aftermath of the war that you were really the only person who had time for Steve. But that was okay. Steve meant a lot to you- he was always so nice to you and you knew he’d probably do the same for you if Bucky wasn’t able.

You spent most hours of the day by his side in his recovery room, mostly just watching TV, but every so often monitoring his heart rate and vitals.

He’d lost a lot of blood, especially since no one had stopped the bleeding from the location to the tower and thus, he entered a coma whilst Bruce took the bullet out.

“Anything?” Bucky enters the room, startling you a little as you watched the TV on low volume.

“Hasn’t moved a muscle.” You shake your head, rubbing your thumb over Steve’s hand, “Do you think he’ll wake tomorrow?”

“Probably.” Bucky nods, “Banner said 2-3 days and Steve’s a unit.” You smile a little. Yeah, Steve was a fucking unit. Rubbing your shoulder, Bucky turns off the TV in front of you,“Come on, he’ll be okay. Come to bed.”

You set Steve’s room back into place, cleaning up your mess and tucking him in for the fifth time that day before placing a kiss to his head and wishing him goodnight.

Turning back around, you smiled as you saw Bucky tick his jaw playfully, “Oh, stop. He’s like my brother-in-law.”

“You never kiss me on the head like that.”

“You’re never in a coma.”

-

As you watch an episode of SpongeBob, your head whips around to Steve as you hear him shift in his sleep. Pausing the episode, you place your hand over his and watch as his eyes slowly flutter open.

“Hey,” You speak a little too loud, excitement taking over you as Steve finally wakes up, “How’re you feeling?”

He swallows before speaking, “I’ve seen better days.”

You smile as he offers you the smallest grin, so glad that he’s okay. Reaching over to his mini fridge, you pull out a bottle of cold water and Gatorade, handing them to him as he sits up slowly, “Here.”

He takes the Gatorade first, indulging the first few sips since it’s been two whole days since he’s had any kind of refreshment.

“You took care of me.” He says matter of factly as he puts down the bottle.

You roll your eyes, abashed, “I stopped the bleeding. Banner saved your leg from amputation.”

He opens his mouth to speak again, but Bucky’s booming voice entering the room catches his attention instead, “He’s alive!”

Standing from your seat, you let Bucky and the rest of the team catch up with Steve, telling him all about what happened with Brock.

“Can I speak with you for a moment?” You turn at the sound of an unfamiliar voice at your ear, heart picking up when you see who it belongs to.

Tony stands before you, and you know better than to turn him down, “Sure.” You hate the way your voice quakes a little when you answer him, following him on nervous legs as he nods to the living room.

You don’t exactly know what you expected him to say to you- or do to you. Part of you was scared he’d kill you- for what reason you weren’t sure but the possibility was definitely out there.

“You helped save one of my men.” He starts off with, your heart rate going back to normal as his face doesn’t seem as stern and he sounds… grateful? “I’m sorry I never really opened up to you. You’ve got your dads eyes and your moms smile…”

Blinking up at him, your mouth opens and closes like a stupid fish as you take in his words, “You knew my parents?”

“Somewhat.” He shrugs, “Weren’t on good terms when they passed. I guess I took my guilt out on you, you look so much like the both of them it’s actually kinda scary.” You had absolutely no idea. If you’d known he knew your parents, maybe you would’ve felt a little safer with him- or not. Because he was lying… “I’m sorry… redo?” He holds his hand out for you and you shake it immediately.

No matter what had happened in the past few days, things were really starting to look up. Bucky was a lot happier and had a lot more time with you. Natasha and Wanda even talked to you a few times.

Though, you had a few moments where you’d remember… you know, but Bucky was always there to console you.

So, you were very open to redos. New beginnings.

-

It was about a week later that it was deemed safe to go back home. At that point, however, you barely wanted to go back because you were having so much fun at the tower with everyone.

But, you knew that the quicker you were gone, the quicker you and Bucky could go on that vacation.

Practically jumping out of the car- both in excitement and because it was literally too high from the ground.

“Nope.” Bucky shakes his head, rounding the car from the passenger side and stalking towards you, dipping down and picking you up bridal style.

You squeal in surprise, but let him carry you up the stairs of the house.

You giggle as he struggles to unlock the front doors many locks, as well as hold you up while you press kisses to his neck.

He kicks open the door once he finally unlocks every lock and you bite his neck when he squeezes your ass.

“Let’s get married again.” You almost don’t hear it, because he said it so abruptly and you were in the middle of laughing,“Properly.”

“Wha- why?” You ask, halting all playful actions.

“Because,” He shrugs, “You deserve a proper wedding.”

Bringing your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to contain your smile, you nod, “Okay.”

“Okay.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*･ﾟ☆

wtf shut up if this is bad i’m sorry

if you guys like this, i may do a part two bc there is still a lot that needs fo be unpacked but lol

[06-archive]

[only-tiktoks]

[that-catholic-shinobi]

I could write a short horror story based off this

[itsvictorfreeze]

What are you talking about? This is a short horror story.

[free-my-mindd]

Best thing to do honestly.

[bauliya]

why do only children's and fantasy books have illustrations. what crime did other readers commit that the industry decided we weren't worthy of lil drawings

[bauliya]

pros of illustrating adult/literary fiction:

- more employment for illustrators

- cool abstract art that conveys vibes

- i like picture

cons:

- ????

-

[goryhorroor]

2010s horror girls

[imtaashu]

𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑔𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦

✮ Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

✮ Summary: Bucky leaves his laptop open. You peek. What you find in his search history sends you into a full meltdown of the best kind.

✮ Genre: fluff, crack + softness, emotional!Bucky, oblivious boyfriend behavior, accidental confessions, best friends to lovers, you’re already in love but now you’re sure

✮ Word Count: ~1.2k

✮ Author Notes🖋️: He’s in love. Deeply. Dumbly. Entirely. And apparently, he’s trusting Google with his feelings before you 😭💗

You weren’t snooping. Really. You weren’t. You were just trying to pull up Spotify on Bucky’s laptop while he was in the shower. Totally innocent. Totally not looking for anything private.

And then… you accidentally brushed the trackpad. And his browser popped open.

And his search history was right there.

You squint at the top entry.

“how to flirt without sounding desperate”

Oh. Oh no. Your heart stutters.

You scroll down one line “does soft girl love metal arm”

Your jaw drops.

“how to propose with no ring but max love” “can you marry your best friend without them knowing” “what does it mean if she always looks at your mouth during arguments” “why is she so pretty it hurts”

You cover your mouth with your hand. Are you crying or laughing? Who knows.

You hear the shower shut off. Panic hits. You slam the laptop closed like you’ve just committed a federal crime.

⸻

He walks into the room in nothing but a towel and a blush, rubbing water from his face “Hey, did the music stop?”

You’re still frozen on the couch, laptop on your lap, hands clenched like it might explode “Y-Yeah. I—uh. It glitched.”

He doesn’t notice. Just walks over, presses a kiss to your head like he does every day.

Like you’re his. (Because you are.)

He plops down beside you. “Movie night?”

You stare at him.

The man who just googled how to propose with no ring but max love. The man who’s been “casually” in love with you for months and has apparently been consulting Google dot com about it like it’s a therapist.

And suddenly, it hits you. He’s terrified.

He loves you, but he doesn’t know how to tell you. So he’s been asking questions he doesn’t feel brave enough to say out loud.

God.

You’re gonna cry again.

He notices your expression shift. Brows furrow “Hey… are you okay?”

You nod, quick. Too quick “Just thinking.”

He shifts closer, presses his forehead to yours “’Bout what?”

You swallow. Then smile. “About how I’d say yes, even if you didn’t have a ring.”

His breath catches. You feel it.

Slowly, so slowly, he pulls back and stares at you “What?”

You smile wider, heart in your throat. “Max love, remember?”

He turns red. Full-body flush. Ears. Neck. Even his chest “Oh my god,” he whispers. “You saw.”

You nod. “I wasn’t snooping—”

“No, no,” he mumbles, hiding his face in his hands. “I’m an idiot.”

“You’re adorable.”

He groans. “That’s worse.”

You giggle and climb into his lap, cupping his face “Bucky Barnes,” you whisper. “I love you. Desperately. Fully. And yes, even the metal arm.”

He peeks at you from between his fingers “Even when I google dumb things like ‘can you marry your best friend without them knowing’?”

You press your forehead to his.

“Especially then.”

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─────────

💌 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 💌

@nerdreader @starstruckfirecat @baguwagu @sunday-bug @murnsondock @7batsinatrenchcoat @overwintering-soldier @surebutwhy @embervelour @bananaminn @butterflies-on-my-ashes @thiscornerofmyfanficbrain @okaytrashpanda @xamapolax @aceofheartsssss @the-real-kellymonster @mars-in-a-cup @doilooklikeagiveafrack @maifics @cjand10 @aesthetic0cherryblossom @rosemary-beach-babe @pattiemac1 @chriszgirl92 @heyrosh @morphoportis @sugamilkey @dreammiiee @riah1606 @suri-de-city @ordelixx @galaxygoddess30 @magnificentreviewdreamer @flowstatefic @prk-hoon @multifandomrandomgirl @sashaiz01 @kodzuminx @sarapolare @sinistersnakey @greatenthusiasttidalwave @najdjjfjjdid 🫶🏻🌻🤍

wanna be tagged in all upcoming theories + emotional damage + forehead kisses? ➝ reply or send me an ask and i’ll add you ♡

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─────────

[shachihata]

you may spank it… once still remains the funniest image ever created on this bitch of an earth

[shachihata]

like how do u top this in terms of pure comedic value. donkey kong’s ass. the suspense. the mere implication that donkey kong nasty. him looking out to sea like he’s making the hardest decision of his life. its so fucking good

[rneliflua]

IDGAF if the women in my fiction are empowering or aspirational, I'm an adult, I don't need role models, I want the women in my fiction to be interesting, and if that involves being pathetic, hypocritical, amoral, or trapped in a delightfully dysfunctional relationship so be it

[eccebitch]

#'this is so illegal/toxic/unhealthy'#yeah bestie thats why im reading about it instead of doing it

[ineedhjalp]

I love fanfiction because sometimes The Character needs to be held gently and sometimes they need to be beaten to death with a club. and you 🫵 can make both of those happen. for free

[angelbabymikaa]

“it’s totally platonic!” i say as my eyes widen and my heart softens just by thinking about them

[rifa]

Realized I have a naked rat and a small piano

Here's Harry banging out the tunes, April 13th 2023

[yallidarityforever]

one year of tunes. thank you harry

[yallidarityforever]

two years of tunes. thank you harry

[kenluvskittens]

STUDAYA HAS BREACHED CONTAINMENT

[animentality]

[quinnigallagherjones]

DOUGLAS 'CASH' PIGGOTT my favourite outfits | requested by @lokibus

[skittlespizza]

bitches hate me because of my.... bad personality.... paranoid nature... addictive tendencies......the torture basement.

[its-funnytwittertweets]