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HARD TO HATE YOU (PART 4)

TITLE: Hard to Hate You CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: Chapter 4/? AUTHOR: Winterwolf57 CHARACTERS: Mobster!Bucky x Reader, Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, Scott Lang GENRE: AU WARNINGS: Angst, unprotected sex, hair pulling SUMMARY: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes was the king of the Brooklyn mob and you were his best assassin and right hand woman. The only problem? You hated each other’s guts…at least that’s what everyone thinks. A/N: I know it took forever, sorry about that! If I find any errors, I’ll correct them tomorrow.

So fair warning, this chapter has a good portion of smut. You can skip though it if you’re not comfortable, but I just needed to do it because this chapter serves as a turning point for the story. I want to explain more, but I don’t want to spoil you for the next chapters. Speaking of which, I can’t promise the 5th chapter will be out anytime soon, but what I can promise you is that the story is completely outlined till the 10th chapter. It’s just a matter of getting my shit together and actually writing down my ideas.

Anyway, as usual I hope you guys enjoy!

Tags at the bottom.

MASTERLIST

“We’re here, boss,” Clint said clearing his throat to get your attention. “I’m still mad at you, Barnes. I’m gonna hurt you for that,” you said breathlessly when you pulled away from each other. “That was one of the most half-hearted threats I’ve ever heard you make, doll,” said a smug looking Bucky as he climbed out of the car and straightened his clothes. “I’ll have you know that I don’t make idle, half-hearted threats,” you said loud enough for those nearest you both to hear, once again putting on your ‘I hate him, he hates me’ act.

Your banter continued until you found a grim looking Scott in his office. “What is it, Lang, talk to me,” Bucky demanded as you both took a seat in front of him. “Not gonna lie boss, it’s bad. Like I accidentally kissed my cousin when I was drunk in a family reunion bad. Like Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction bad, but I’m talking about the badness of his character, not his acting--”

“LANG, FOCUS!” Bucky said sharply. Scott took three deep breaths before continuing.

“Your friend Steve was right, my sources found that the evidence is pretty damning. Not enough to incriminate you fully, at least not yet. In the meantime, while we work on undoing this mess I suggest that you lie low. Both of you.” Scott said turning his attention to you. “Because while the boss is the one being accused of murder, you being his right hand woman are sure to get some backlash too. I’ve alerted Mr. Barton to your situation, and he may or may not have come up with a plan to keep you hidden for the time being. I wouldn’t know though,” he said winking at you. Bucky nods his head in thanks, while you pulled Scott in for a hug. “Thank you, Lang. When this is all over, remind me to treat you and Cassie to pizza,” you say smiling sadly at your friend. “I’ll hold you to that, Y/N, and so will Cassie,” Scott replied humoring you.

You both knew the truth though. You weren’t sure if you were going to be able to worm your way out of this one, let alone make it out of this whole ordeal alive. He pulls you in for another hug before sending you off to Clint, who was waiting for you at the basement of the building with two helmets, and a big bike.

“Are you ready?” Clint asks as he hands each of you a helmet, “as we’ll ever be,” you reply taking it from him without question. “Hold up, I don’t KNOW how to operate a bike,” Bucky tries to say as calmly as possible, but the tone of his voice gives him away. “Oh sweetheart, you’re not operating anything. I am,” you say. “Wha--since when did you learn how to ride?” he asks with his mouth agape. You simply wink at him before turning to Clint as he gives you directions on where to meet him next.

“I’ll drive out first with Wanda and Pietro in the back seat,” Clint motions towards the twins who were dressed exactly like you and Bucky, down to the hair on their heads. “After exactly ten minutes, you ride to the location I told you about, and stop only at the places I’ve flagged. Oh, and take these mobile phones,” he said switching your current models with a simple flip phone. “The only number stored in there is mine. I’ll usually be the one to initiate contact; say ‘hello darling’ to let me know it’s really you and that you’re both okay, or ‘hey sugar’ if you’re in trouble or being held against your will. Ride safe,” he said.

Before driving off, Clint pulled Bucky to one side while you prepped the bike. You tried to listen in but they were too far from you for you to hear anything. You shrugged it off, it was probably just some last minute protocols since Clint was going to run the mob in the meantime.

Bucky returned to your side with a scowl on his face; he was never really good with expressing his feelings and he looked like he was struggling with something heavy. Whatever it was he and Clint spoke about, it couldn’t have been good. You were so tempted to coax the information out of him, wanted to share the burden of whatever it was he seemed to be carrying but decided against it. In the meantime, you distracted yourself by mentally mapping out your route. Exactly ten minutes later, you and Bucky rode off into the night. Clint had given you specific instructions which you have committed to memory; you tried to focus on that, instead of the uneasy silence between you and Bucky.

The first few days were spent moving from one place to another, getting as far away from the city as possible without raising any suspicion. To the rest of the world, you were on a top secret holiday. What you’d give for that to be the truth. Instead, you were riding from one place to another, traveling while the world was asleep and hiding when it awoke. It was physically exhausting, the type where you’d collapse into a dreamless sleep before having to go through the whole thing again the next day. But if you were to be honest, you much preferred it over having to deal with an edgy, agitated Bucky.

You traversed through forests and dirt roads to get to your next safe point. After a few hours of riding, you arrived at a bar called The Mad Scientist and parked your bike at the back entrance, just like Clint had instructed, and entered through the back door. “Bruce Banner?” you called out to the empty bar. A man with bed-tossed hair and round glasses emerged from behind the counter holding several alcohol-filled test tubes. “Ah. You must be friends of Barton! Please, follow me,” he said leading you to an attic-turned-room. “My apologies. I tried to fix it up as much as I could but it’s probably not what you’re--ah, usually accustomed to,” he said pushing his glasses up with his index finger. “Don’t worry darling, this isn’t our first rodeo,” you joked.

A pained expression quickly flashed across Bucky’s features - anger, frustration, embarrassment. It was too fast for you to decipher, but you were pretty sure it was one, if not all three of those emotions.

You studied the room in silence while Bucky took a phone call from Clint. You found some spare clothing and supplies for the both of you in the cabinets. Bucky looked absolutely savage after he’d hung up; he was agitated again but avoided eye contact with you, hinting that he didn’t want to talk about it. He set his shoes to one side and slipped his leather jacket off his shoulders in silence.

You couldn’t take it anymore, you had to know what was bothering him. “Bucky,” you started gently. “Sweetheart what’s wrong? Talk to me.” He looked up at you from where he was absentmindedly folding his jacket, frustrated at the fact that he couldn’t fold it just right. “I’d really rather not,” was his clipped response. “Please, let me share in whatever you think it is you have to carry alone,” you plead. “I said I didn’t want to talk about it,” he said through gritted teeth. “Do you need to use the bathroom before I take a shower?” he asked coldly as he made his way to the bathroom. “James Buchanan Barnes I have HAD IT. I gave you your space, put up with your moods but goddamnit Bucky, enough with the moping and the sulking. You’re my husband for crying out loud, and I’m your WIFE. We made a vow to each other, remember? In sickness and in health, for better or for worse, till…” you couldn’t bear to say the last line as tears spilled down your face. Bucky was frozen where he stood, he looked as if he were debating whether to slip into the bathroom to avoid this whole conversation or go over and comfort you. You made the choice for him as you turned to leave, but he strode over so fast and spun you around so you were pulled tightly against his hard chest. “I’m sorry,” he muttered into your hair. You looked up at him to see that he was holding back tears.

You kissed him softly on the lips and that undid him, his body shaking violently as he sobbed. You both fell to the floor, holding each other tightly as you wept. You cradled Bucky in your arms like a child, his head resting on your shoulder as you rocked him back and forth, waiting for his sobs to die down.

“Y/N,” he said, voice cracked from all the crying. “Yes, Bucky?” you asked, your own voice hoarse. “What do you need?” you asked as you stroked his hair. He looked up at you with stormy blue eyes. “I just need to feel you. I need to know you’re right here,” he said pulling back to tower over you. “Anything you need, Bucky,” you said before he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was unlike any he’d ever given you before. You’d been with passionate Bucky, angry Bucky, possessive Bucky, but this… you couldn’t quite explain what this was. His kiss was filled with a desperation you couldn’t fully fathom, and despite not knowing what exactly it was that burdened him, the anguish in it broke your heart.

Bucky’s lips barely left yours as his hands began to roam your body; one hand slid underneath your shirt and traced intricate patterns on your skin, while the other cradled one side of your face. “Bucky,” you said between shaky breaths. “You’re scaring me,” you said as you cupped his face with both hands. “Talk to me, Bucky, please,” you begged. “Later, I promise,” he said pressing his forehead to yours then kissing the tip of your nose. “But for now, let me make love to my wife.” You could only nod in response, not sure that you wouldn’t burst into tears again if you spoke.

He peeled off your shirt and pulled you towards him so that he was seated on the floor and your legs encircled his waist. He skimmed his fingers along your neck, tracing your collarbone before moving them down the length of your arm. He lingered on the scar you got from a flesh wound a few years back, then continued to touch you as if he were trying to memorize every inch of you. You felt his touch get greedier as he kneaded your breasts possessively before squeezing your hips like he was afraid that you would somehow disappear.

Your fingers carded his soft brown hair, and you sighed loudly as his lips pressed open mouthed kisses along your chest. You felt his hot breath over one of your nipples, your nails digging into his arm in anticipation of what was to come. However, instead of giving you what you most desperately wanted, he licked your nipple with the tip of his tongue, flicking it with quick short strokes. “No more teasing,” you chided as you grabbed a handful of his hair. “Yes ma’am,” he replied with a cocky grin shortly before closing his mouth over your breast and sucking at it greedily. You arched your back, offering more of yourself to him, begging him not to stop.

After he released your breasts, you buried your face in the crook of his neck and took a minute to catch your breath while he worked on unbuttoning your jeans. You then began nibbling lightly at his pulse point; you could feel the thud of his heart beneath your tongue, and felt it steadily rise as his fingers found its way between the vee of your thighs and inside your panties. “Fuck!” he exclaimed when he felt just how wet you were. He used his middle and ring fingers to rub between your folds before slipping them both deep inside you with ease. You moaned against his neck and shamelessly rode his fingers as the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, clinging to him for support as you rode out your first orgasm of the night.

He somehow managed to get you both off the floor and the next thing you knew, you lay in a boneless heap beneath him on the rickety bed your host had provided. He took this opportunity to fully rid you of your clothes, and stepped away momentarily to get rid of his. Before you could fully recover, his head was between your legs, mouth and tongue devouring the evidence of your pleasure. His stubble scratched against your inner thigh as he licked and nibbled at your folds. You squirmed as his tongue flicked and pressed at your clit, still sensitive from your last orgasm, but Bucky wouldn’t stop until you came again. Any attempt at modesty, or at least trying to be quiet for Bruce’s sake flew out the window when Bucky began to suck at your clit. He reached up to squeeze your breasts as you came violently, screaming his name again and again.

You were surprised that you didn’t pass out from the pleasure, although you weren’t entirely sure how you still managed to crawl over to Bucky to give him the same pleasure he gave you. He watched intently as your tongue licked the pre-cum from the slit of his achingly hard erection. He let out a long litany of Romanian curses when your lips wrapped around him and you bobbed up and down ever so slowly, using your tongue to tease him the way he teased you. It wasn’t long before he pulled your lips off him and pushed you so that your back was flat on the bed. He positioned himself between your legs and quickly pushed himself into you. The bed beneath you creaked louder and louder as his thrusts became more erratic. “Bucky, I’m gonna--” before you could finish your sentence, he slowed his pace. “Not yet, sweetheart. Want to get there together. Please, I’m so close,” he managed to say. He picked up the pace once more and snapped his hips as he thrust hard against you before spilling himself inside of you, with you following shortly after.

He pulled out after he’d caught his breath and collapsed beside you, holding you impossibly close as if he were unwilling for any inch of you both to be apart. You fell asleep wrapped up in each other, only to wake up with Bucky gone. Panic gripped at you and you hastily put on his shirt and your underwear before rushing downstairs to the bar, not caring if Bruce or anyone else saw you in such a state of undress.

Instead you saw Bucky lighting some candles while the smell of roast beef wafted in the air. “Oh, you’re awake!” Bucky beamed at you from where he stood, lighting the last candle. “This was all supposed to be a surprise, but I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” he said scratching the back of his head. His smile faltered when he noticed the tears that poured down your face and he strode over to you immediately, wrapping you in his arms. “I thought you were gone,” you said between sobs. “Shh… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said kissing the top of your head. “Promise me you won’t ever do that again. Promise me you’ll never leave without saying goodbye.” The demand took Bucky by surprise and he wondered if you had an inkling about what he was going to do. Impossible. So he pushed the feeling aside and pressed his mouth to your hair to avoid having to look you in the eye, “I promise,” he said, lying through his teeth.

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