Oleander - Bucky BarnesxOC

CHAPTER SEVEN: SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL

CONTENT AND TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: While this fic is going to be smutty and kinky as fuck, it's also much darker fic, so I'm dealing with darker issues. This chapter features a discussion of sexual assault. I don't go into detail of the event, but I do go into the aftermath of it and how shitty it is to deal with. I didn't really intend to go this way, but here we are, writing our own trauma into fics. (I'm okay, by the way, this is old trauma - writing is just how I process stuff).

There is also descriptions of torture, blood, and knives. If you've ever seen Reservoir Dogs, I have a scene somewhat modeled after one of the more famous scenes in it. I'm trying to showcase James's dark side. I also added some new songs to the playlist.

Romanian translations will be at the bottom.

Dahlia reapplies her lipstick in the bathroom. After what just happened at the table, she had to take some time to clean herself up. As she's fixing her lipstick, a woman steps out of the stall and tilts her head. She's got shoulder length auburn hair and she's wearing a long black dress. Her lips are perfectly painted in red lipstick. She's a little older than Dahlia. She might be James's age, but it's hard to tell with the lights. Dahlia isn't very good at being able to guess how old people are, and with everyone in Los Angeles getting botox, it's even harder to tell.

"Are you all right, dear?"

Dahlia stares at her in the mirror.

"Yeah, why."

"I just saw you from across the restaurant with that man and you looked like you were crying."

"Oh," Dahlia laughs, her cheeks flushing again. "No, I, uh, he just said something really sweet to me."

"Hmm." The woman steps up to the counter and washes her hands. Dahlia waits. She looks like she wants to say something else. Her light blonde brows pinch together in quiet contemplation and Dahlia's stomach flutters. Finally, the woman flicks the water off of her hands, grabs a paper towel, and dries them off. She smiles.

"Have a lovely evening."

"You too," Dahlia says softly.

She looks at herself in the mirror and bites her lip.

"What the fuck was that?"

Quickly, she washes her hands and puts her lipstick back into the small black clutch that James bought her, slinging it over her shoulder, and walking back outside. James is on his phone. His jaw is clenched and he looks angry. He doesn't see her yet, leaning over the table as he speaks. She can't hear him, but whatever's coming out of his mouth looks like it's vicious. Dahlia thinks about the woman in the bathroom and the way she seemed to be holding something back. Does she know James, or was she just being protective?

She pauses, watching him speak. Her mother had this kind of rage. Quiet, but when she used it the right way, it was explosive, leaving destruction in its wake.

At least this isn't directed at her.

James's eyes catch hers and his face softens, breaking out into a smile. He beckons her over to the table and Dahlia follows, sliding back down into the seat next to him. James keeps talking, changing his demeanor entirely. He reaches out, his hand sliding up her thigh. Dahlia takes a sip of wine, still not quite believing that this is happening.

"He didn't even show up for the meeting this morning. Nu te mai certa cu mine. Ne păstrăm pârghia. Nu tolerez o asemenea lipsă de respect."

Dahlia didn't know he spoke another language. She can't tell what it is, but it sounds beautiful, pouring from his lips like wine. His voice gets lower. Dahlia gets butterflies and he locks eyes with her. Dahlia bites her lip and James licks his lips.