#mafia boss!bucky x reader
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Promises | Part 1/3
Pairing: Mafia Boss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader
Summary: When your parents are murdered in cold blood, you turn to the most feared man on the east coast for answers.
Word count: 2.4k
Tags: Violence, discussion of murder, graphic scene, hurt/comfort (it was a murder yall, its not pretty but I dont think I described it too graphically), Google translate used for the Russian, mafia themes.
You found yourself in a dark and quiet bar tonight, the smell of top shelf liquor and cigar smoke prominent the second you walked through the door. You were anxious of course, but anyone with a shred of common sense would be nervous about meeting the one known as the Winter Soldier. At least, you hoped to talk to him tonight. You slowly approached the bar, remembering the code your father had once told you, in case you ever found yourself in this position.
“Я ищу зимнего солдата” you softly say to the bartender, earning a subtly surprised expression. I’m looking for the winter solder, you had said.
The bartender sets down the glass he was drying, and walks away and through a back door, which you’re certain leads to the the office of the man you seek. After a few moments, the bartender returns, followed by a tall, blonde man. He was strong, all muscle, his face serious but had an undertone of friendliness. You were unsure if it was genuine or not. You never can be sure about mobsters, despite how kindly your father had always spoken of the Winter Mob. Especially now, that your family had been wronged so brutally.
“What is your business here, miss? We don’t see many women around these places,” He says, voice smooth like velvet, carrying the whispers of a Brooklyn accent.
“Mr. Barnes knows my parents. They’re the owners of the bakery on the corner of Southeast Avenue. Something happened, and I need to speak with Mr. Barnes. I need answers.” You say, voice surprisingly stern even though your insides felt like they were shaking like a leaf.
Once you mention the establishment your parents ran, the tall blondes eyes light with understanding.
“Ah yes, your parents are very good people. We know them well. You must be their daughter. If it is truly something serious, please, follow me,” He says, stepping aside as he holds the door for you. You walk down a long and dimly lit corridor in silence, being led by the man. This is when you notice the weapons strapped to his hips. He is dressed in the mobs characteristic all black clothing they were known for, with two guns, one on each him, strapped to him. He also wore a shoulder holster, holding a smaller pistol and two knives. He looked lethal, but had surprised you with his professional but friendly manner.
As you get closer to the door at the end of the hall, you hear the soft tones of jazz coming from inside the office, a deep and quiet hum accompanying it. The unnamed blonde knocks softly, before opening the door.
The office is also dimly lit only by a small desk lap. There were stacks metal file cabinets around the room, holding what you were sure to be decades of files on everything mob related you could imagine. The Winter Mob was known for their organization and wide depth of knowledge. The floor was a deep, rich wood, the wallpaper elaborate and stunning. Everything about the office screamed luxury.
At the desk in the center of the room sat the most dangerous man on the East Coast. Bucky Barnes, head of the Winter Mob. He wore a fitted black suit, with a black dress shirt as well. His hair was short, and he had a slight stubble on his jaw. He was a handsome man, but for every bit he was handsome, you knew he was also deadly. You involuntarily shivered at the thought of all he is involved with, and now here you were, on a mission for information.
He looked up, eyes taking you in, trailing over your face, then down your body, and back up before he spoke.
“What can I do for you, doll? Bad boyfriend you want taken care of?” He asks in a deep voice, with a slight chuckle, already making assumptions about you. It wouldn’t have been the first time a young woman had come to him for help getting out of a relationship. Little did you know, he always helped in those situations, for no cost. He was raised to respect women, to cherish them. Whenever he could, he would help women get away from men who didn’t understand that.
“No, Mr. Barnes. You know my parents. You helped them with a loan, to keep their bakery afloat. The little one on the corner of Southeast Avenue,” You explain, hoping that he will know who you’re talking about. You know he works and helps a lot of different people, so it’s hard to say if he will specifically know your parents. All you can do is hope.
At the mention of the bakery, Bucky gives a small but honest smile.
“Yeah, I do. They make the best cream puffs on this side of the U.S, I swear. How are they?” He asks you, as he leans back a bit in his chair.
“They’re dead.” You say, voice breaking on the word ‘dead’. It was still a raw wound on your heart, and still difficult to say out loud. It still felt like you were in a bad dream.
His visibly shocks Bucky. His eyebrows furrow together and his jaw drops open slightly.
“What?” He asks, softly. Unknown to you, since you were mostly away in the big city working, Bucky really loved your parents. He thought they were good, honest people. He himself stopped in twice a week to visit, always ordering a small black coffee and two cream puffs. Your mother and father reminded him of his own, who he dearly missed. It was a shellshock to him to hear the two were gone so suddenly.
His blatant shock surprised you. You really thought he knew. How did he not?
“You mean, you didn’t know? I thought it was one of your goons who took them out?” You ask, confused.
Bucky and the blonde man who had led you in snorted in slight laughter at you calling his workers and family “goons”.
“Steve, will you grab the ledger book for her families loan for me?” Bucky asked, thanking the blonde who you now knew was Steve as he handed a thin bound book over to the boss.
“Doll, come here, I want to show you something,” The boss called to you, beckoning you over with a motion of his hand, as the other flipped through the pages of the small book, before coming to the end of the writing in the book.
“See here? Their debt was paid back in full to me, two years before the deadline I had set. They’ve had me paid off for a while now. They swore to me I’d see my money back, with interest, and they kept their promise to me in full. I’d have no reason to put a hit out on them, and I never would,” The mobster told you, a surprisingly soft and gentle tone contrasting his strong and tough exterior.
“I- I don’t understand. I thought surely, they must have been behind on the loan, or made you angry somehow or something. I just wanted some answers. Who- who killed my parents?” You ask, tears springing to your eyes. You thought you had originally had at least part of the answer, being who was responsible, and now you didn’t even have that.
“I don’t know, doll. But we’re going to figure it out,” He promises you, confusing you once again. This man was full of surprises to you.
“Why? Why do you want to help me?” You ask him. When you ask, he looks to you with a fire in his eyes.
“They were family. No one gets by with hurting family, doll,” His voice tells you, a dangerous edge to it.
The mafia boss quickly tells Steve to pull his car around for you both after learning you had gotten to their bar by bus. As he waited, he asked a bit about you. He wanted to know where you were staying, to which you told him the hotel. He was satisfied in knowing it was one he secretly owned. You told him about your job in New York, which you had taken a leave of absence from to come home to Brooklyn to figure this out. He nodded as you spoke, listening as you watched him grab his gun from his desk drawer, loading it before putting it in the holster strapped to his hip. He then grabbed his wallet, thick with cash you could clearly see making it bulge, shoving it in his pocket. You both turned to Steve when he returned, telling his boss the car was ready, before leading you both outside.
You both climbed into the Escalade, Steve opening and closing your door for you. After you’re both buckled in, he begins to drive.
“Where did it happen?” He asks you, eyes focused on the road.
“Their home, off of 56th street, if you turn here, you’ll want to-“ You’re suddenly cut off.
“I know where it is, doll, your mother was sweet enough to invite me and the boys to dinner a couple times. A sweet woman, she was,” He told you, voice sounding like silk as he fondly remembered the meals and memories he shared with your parents. They had been good to him, and his closest family members; the boys who were part of his administration, the top level of the mob, the ones he worked with the most.
“I didn’t realize you all were that close?” You question, still surprised.
Bucky sends you a kind smile, not bothered by your confused and uncertain tone.
“Your parents were good people. Kind people. Nothing like the company we usually keep. They just needed help, and we were happy to help them. For our assistance, they made sure we knew how grateful they were, which isn’t something that happens for us often. Most are afraid of us, but for some reason they never were. We respected that.” He tells you, his own respect for your parents clear in his tone.
“They really meant something to you,” You conclude, still seeing a hint of sadness in his voice where he had to use past tense when talking about your parents now.
“They did. They treated me like their own, which I’m sure you know how good that is,” He tells you, voice soft again.
You smile sadly, nodding. Your parents had been so good to you, always your number one fan. To know they had been good to a mobster too, having hearts full enough to see past the tough exterior and treat Bucky’s family like their own, made your own heart swell. They really were good people. You were blessed to have come from them, but that made you want justice for them even more. They didn’t deserve the fate they had been given.
You both pulled up outside of their small home. It was modest, but charming all the same. A small brick two-story house with white shutters. There were small window boxes hanging off of each window, holding flower beds your mother had planted little wildflowers in, a beautiful bright contrast to the brick building. There was police tape surrounding the property, with an officer stationed outside on the porch.
Bucky puts the car in park, parking behind the police car out front. As he unbuckles, he turns to face you, surprised to see you also unbuckling.
“Doll, stay here, I don’t think you’ll want to see this,” He commands, voice not leaving room for argument. You’ve always been stubborn, so you argue anyway.
“I want to come with you, Mr. Barnes. I deserve to know. I want to see it too,” You plead with him.
He sighs, taking in your stern tone and resiliency clear on your face. He nods begrudgingly.
“First, call me Bucky. Second, okay. But, don’t say anything to the officer, and do not touch anything, okay?” He orders you, earning him a small smile and a nod from you.
You both get out of the car, walking up the sidewalk, only to be stopped by the officer.
Bucky quickly pulls out a wad of cash, silencing the officers demands for you both to leave. Pocketing the cash, he holds the police tape up for you and Bucky to crouch under to enter the property. You pull out your key to your family home, unlocking the door and moving to walk in the door until Bucky stops you.
“Let me go first doll,” He tells you, making you step back to let him enter first.
The first thing you notice is a pungent smell of iron hitting you both. You grimace. You hadn’t been told much by police, only that it had been quite a gruesome scene. The medical examiner had already informed you that you would have to have a closed casket service, and had advised you as gently as possible that it would be best if you didn’t see their bodies in the state they were now in. It hurt your heart. But all of that still didn’t prepare you for the scene you both saw in the living room.
Blood was everywhere. The floors, the walls, the couches, the curtains. It was obvious there had been a struggle from the trail of blood around the room. The room looked like a scene out of a horror film. In the center of the room laid a large and sharp knife, also covered in blood. In the light, gleamed an inscription you couldn’t make out. Bucky crouched down next to it for a closer look, and you couldn’t stop it anymore. Sobs wracked your body, vision blurring from your tears. You hug your midsection, wishing for comfort. It shockingly comes.
Bucky stands from his couched position in the middle of the room and strides back over to you, carefully wrapping you in his arms.
“I’m so sorry, дорогая” He whispers in your ear, holding you close to him as your head comes to rest on his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist. Sweetheart is what he called you. His voice was also heavy with emotion, hating the scene in front of you both. It was a scene of two people who had fought hard, but nevertheless had a horrifying and painful death.
“I think I know who is responsible,” He informs you, after your tears slowly come to a stop, now just enjoying the comfort his strong arms brought you.
“You do? Who?” You timidly ask, fearful of hearing who could have done something so violent, so horrid and animalistic, to people as sweet and kind as your parents who wouldn’t hurt anyone for anything in the world.
“His name is Zemo,” His voice darkly tells you, taking your hand and leading you out of the house and back to the Escalade.
Part 2: Coming Soon
#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes#winter soldier fanfiction#winter soldier#the winter soldier#mafia!au#mafia boss!bucky x reader#mafia!bucky#bucky barnes mafia au#mafia!bucky x reader#mafia!bucky barnes#mafia!avengers#james buchanan barnes#james bucky buchanan barnes#preciousbarnes fics
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request: single mom reader decides to loan shark from natasha’s mob. when reader can’t pay back the loan, natasha’s men capture and beat her. natasha sees reader among the criminals and drug dealers who also haven’t payed back their loans, and excuses her, forgiving her debt.
Title: The Oversight
Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff
Wordcount: 2799
Warnings: Drug use, kidnapping, guns, choking, threats, blood, horrible grammar.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven
[a/n: Yeah, I kind of feel like this needs a part two. Let me know what you guys think and if you're interested]
Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests
Each breath you drew in spurred a sharp stitch in your side. They came in rapid succession, even as you struggled to recall the fuzzy details that usually calmed you down. Your first street name. What you called your first pet. The name of your second-grade teacher. They all swirled foggily, unable to recall.
Your mouth tasted metallic cotton and your heartbeat was pulsing through your entire body. Counting the thrums hadn’t helped either, you gave up as you rolled your neck in a snow circle. The dried blood that hardened against the side of your face, your cheek, and down the expanse of your collarbone crackled at the soft movement.
The room that housed you was pitch black. It was hard to tell when you opened your eyes, tears welling up and dripping down your face onto your uniform. Your arms were bound behind your back, shoulders screaming in protest and fingers going numb from the cold. Your small noises echoed. Wherever you were was impossibly vast.
The next breath that escaped you was deeper than the rest. Not necessarily calm, but enough for you to take stock of the situation; there were flashes of you leaving the diner where you worked nothing short of twelves. It had just rained, and the air was humid. You dropped your keys and bent down to pick them up.
Before you could insert them into the lock, something hard had come down on your temple. There was a rush of heat sloshing down your face and a moment later, as you looked up at the sky, the steel tip of a boot took the rest of your consciousness.
That didn’t bother you. You were fine, a little banged up, but fine. Your daughter was left with the sitter. It could have been hours, maybe even a day. Your stomach clenched in hunger, and you drifted in and out of lucidity. They’d left you un-gagged but you didn’t have it in you to scream. You had a sinking feeling that no one would hear you anyway.
You’d flinched when the first 500-volt lamp let out a sharp hiss before flipping on. You shrunk into yourself, blinking away the sudden burst of white light that filled the room. It was directed towards you, and the rest of the space was still a frustratingly thick darkness. You couldn’t see who had turned them on, but they could see you.
The boots that walked across the floor were loud. They echoed like your earlier sobs. A metal chair was being dragged, and the sound was piercing. It did nothing to aide your aching head. You were thankful to see something other than pitch black, however big the danger.
You recognized the man who was in front of you. His outline flickered solidly. He looked rougher than you did; dirty-blonde hair, and stubble. There was a bandage across the center of his nose, on his fingertips, as if he’d fisted the razor while shaving. His purple T-shirt was covered by a dusty-brown leather jacket. His stare was hard, emotionless.
“You’re awfully quiet for a hostage.” He said, straddling the chair he had dragged over. His chest rested against the metal backing. “You can scream if you want. Wear yourself down. It’ll make this a lot easier.”
“What is this?” You asked instead of taking him up on his offer.
He was familiar to you. Clint. He came into the diner every Wednesday and Friday night like clockwork. He’d order a roast beef on rye with Swiss cheese and extra dressing on the side. He’d suck down two beers with his meal and tipped generously.
Sometimes he was with the man they called ‘The Winter Soldier’. You’d always found the name laughable, but the rumors about him were enough for you to hold your tongue. He never ate but would sometimes order a diet coke and sip it while Clint spoke through large bites of food.
Law enforcement wouldn’t’ touch Bucky Barnes, and your boss would typically comp whatever he ordered. A few months ago, you had shared your first words with him behind the diner. The air stunk of rotted food and hardly counted as fresh air. However, it was a few degrees cooler than the kitchen.
He had offered you a cigarette, one already perched between his lips, a zippo lighter at the ready in his other hand. You declined with the shake of your head, and a quiet ‘no thank you’. There was an uncomfortable silence, but it was better than the damp warmth of the kitchen. A sweet, burning scent filled your nose when he lit his cigarette and let the smoke curl around the two of you like a slack rope.
“You work hard in there.” Bucky said, taking a long inhale. He held it within his lungs, voice pinched. “Harder than anyone else I’ve seen in a while.”
You weren’t about to tell him about your daughter, not with his reputation, or the small smattering of pink scars across his chiseled features. So, you nodded instead. The number of tips you got in the broken down, greasy diner was the difference between two meals and one. So, you smiled sweetly and laid on the southern accent even though you’d only spent a short stint in Georgia when you were eighteen. It was easy to perfect.
“I bet you could name my order right now.”
“You don’t order.”
“I don’t trust the food.” He shrugged listlessly, a lazy smile against his lips. You couldn’t help but smile back.
“That’s a good call.”
He laughed at your honesty, and it was a nice sound. He disarmed you and that was worrying. Bucky let the cigarette sizzle out in a puddle at his feet. He used the tip of his steel-toed boot to grind the paper into damp ash.
“You wouldn’t’ have to work so hard if you had some extra cash, would you?”
The question caught you off guard and you couldn’t stifle the vicious glare that you gave him. Your break was almost over, and you could have, should have, walked back into the restaurant to finish the rest of your shift. Bucky lifted his hands up as a peace offering.
“Look, lady, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. All I’m saying is, you’re not blind to what happens in there, the type of people that frequent this place. You’ve always turned a blind eye and that’s something my boss appreciates. Something she trusts.”
“And who exactly is your boss?”
He tsked “I can’t tell you that, sweetheart. But she wants to make you an offer, she wants to offer you a loan. You’re what? Three months behind on rent? She’ll front that for you and the following two.”
You took a deep breath of stale air. It was a tempting offer, even if it came in the form of a seedy enforcer in an even seedier alleyway. You were three days from getting evicted. Three days from ending up on the streets in a neighborhood that didn’t’ have a single safe one.
“What’s the catch?” You asked.
“Catch? There’s no catch. This is a friendly loan. All you’ve gotta do is pay it back when you’re on your feet again.”
It was an oversight, not asking for a concrete timeline. You hadn’t paid Bucky’s boss back yet, and over the next few months, there were stifled threats, and both Bucky and Clint watched you carefully at the job that you still worked like nothing had changed. The feeling of being indebted lingered, but this time, it was to an unknown entity instead of a landlord that was ultimately harmless.
Everything needed to be paid back in full. These were thousands you didn’t have. And now, two weeks after the initial threat, you were strapped to a metal chair with blood dripping down the sound of your face, in despite need of a drink of water.
Clint was harmless compared to The Winter Soldier, but his muscles still flexed under his shirt as he pulled his jacket off and let it fall to the dusty floor illuminated in blue light. “I would prefer not to get that dirty. It’s genuine leather, you know?”
You glowered at him as he stood and took a few more steps towards you. He looked relatively harmless each time you’d seen him in the diner. Sometimes he had a girl with him, a slight thing that was just as littered in scars as he was. She would order a plate of bacon that was cooked to a crisp and split it with a golden retriever that laid at their feet.
When his wrapped knuckles made contact with your cheek, your head clocked in the opposite direction. There was a sharp pain in your jaw, a ringing in your ear. He had slammed into the same side of your face as earlier, and you lost vision for a second.
Blood filled your mouth, and you spit the mix of saliva, bile, and blood onto the floor. There was a drain in the center and that worried you more than anything else. Your breathing came fast and hard and you glared at him, teeth stained pink.
“Is that all?” You asked him.
It was stupid, you knew it was stupid. But it bothered you more than anything that you had gotten yourself wrapped up in this. Your father was no stranger to the mob, and you should have seen it from a mile away. The fear he lived with. Until the day he died, he would look over his shoulder and you refused to do the same.
Clint grabbed your face, squeezing hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. “You’re a tough chick, huh? I think we both know why you’re here. All you have to do is get the money and all of this vanishes.”
“I don’t have the money.” Your words were garbled between his fingers. “You’re sure as fuck not going to get it if you kill me.”
“Kill you?” Clint unhanded you and let out a laugh. “Kill you, she says. No, we’re not going to kill you, she would never get her money that way… your daughter on the other hand.”
You pulled against the ropes, and they dug painfully into you. The chair was liable to break, but it had been bolted to the floor. It was much stronger than the one he’d dragged over. The mix of anger and fear that had rushed over you pulled away any thought of lingering aches and pains. Be damned to the head trauma.
Your teeth were gritted, voice a low hiss “Leave her the fuck out of this.”
“Did I strike a nerve?”
“I swear to you, I will get your money, I just need time. I’m not… You can keep me under surveillance as collateral, take my car, my apartment- just leave her out of this.”
Clint gripped your throat with his calloused hand, your ability to breathe became more difficult, half-moon nails digging into your flesh. It stung fiercely, and you let out a gurgle in response. “Or she could be our collateral. I think she’d make a great enforcer, with the proper education, that is.”
Is that what happened to the girl that ate lunch with Clint at the diner? She didn’t looked like she was there against her will, but there was an immense sadness to her eyes. Clint hadn’t released you yet and your vison was growing fuzzy at the edges.
“Let her go,”
Your chest was burning at this point and when he pulled his hand back you tried desperately to regain your sense of lucidity. You coughed, nearly vomiting as he took a long stride backwards, seemingly put into his place with a simple sentence.
Over the ringing of your ears, you heard the sharp click of heels. They were confident, and your chin dropped to your chest as you panted in succession, spit dripping in strings from your lips. You didn’t have the strength to look up, your head was pounding.
“I think that’s enough,” Her voice was smooth, just the smallest bit of an accent in her words. You couldn’t place it, but you couldn’t tell which way was up at this point. “You’re dismissed.”
“Oh, come on Natasha, I was just having a little fun.”
“Dismissed, Clint.”
There was a labored sigh and the sound of his footsteps retreating. It brought little relief to you, however. You felt as if you had traded one evil for another. Eventually, you lifted your head to stare at the ceiling. The stranger hadn’t said anything, and the pitch dark above was more desirable to the unknown.
You heard her sit down and felt her eyes watching you. The swimming in your head started to dissipate so you clocked her with a stare. The woman in front of you was angelic, in such a way that you figured Clint’s choking stunt had actually done you in.
Her stare was an unripe green rimmed in gold, her cheekbones carved from marble. There was a beautiful softness to her expression, and her deep red hair flowed over her shoulders in a waterfall of color. She was studying you, not phased by the cold of the room.
The woman wore a black t-shirt, deep slashes of ink peaking from the dip of the V-neck. You didn’t’ let your eyes linger long. It was a marking that you’d seen on Clints bicep and on Buckey’s hand. You hadn’t gotten a chance to clock it on the girl that was kept in their company.
“Is this the part where you come in with your good cop schtick?” You mumbled.
“Darling, Clint is the good cop.”
“Nice, I like it.” You rolled your shoulders back, fighting the stiffness “Bad cop and worse cop is much more effective.”
“You’ve got quite the mouth on you for someone in your position. Thousands of dollars in debt and seemingly no way to pay back my money. It’s not a good spot to be in, Y/n.”
Natasha stood from the chair, her muscles straining at the action. In a fluid motion, she pulled a black standard issue handgun from the space between her skin and her jeans. She pumped the shaft, the sound echoed more than your quickened breathing.
She used the tip to push your chin up, forcing you to look into her unblinking eyes. You were a dead man, you knew that from her cold stare. You couldn’t look away, even if the option was given.
“Baby, I’ve been in this business for a long time.” Her breath was hot on your collarbone, a mix of mint and tobacco. “I know exactly the type that you are. I cater to your kind. More often than not, my clientele need a little bit of encouragement.”
The tip of her gun traced your jaw, her finger loosely on the trigger. It was cold against your collarbone, down the center of your breasts. She held it there, jaw set in stone.
“We’ll keep you here for a few days. Once you dry out a little, I’m sure you’ll suddenly come into the cash.”
“Dry out? You think I’m on drugs?”
The tip pushed hard enough into your sternum to make you let out a grunt of pain. “You hide it quite well, pet. I’m sure it won’t be as simple when you start to feel those withdraw symptoms. Money flows simple in this town when those cravings kick in.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at her, despite the weapon that she was packing. A frown creased between her eyebrows, but she held it in place. “The hardest thing I’ve ever hit is a blunt in a high school rotation. That was your brilliant plan? Dry me out and then what? Search my backyard for jars filled with money. I don’t have it. I make 2.50 an hour at a diner.”
Natasha scrutinized you, eyes hard. She righted herself and pulled the gun away from your center before flipping on the safety and shoving it back into her jeans. She started to pace the length of the light.
“Bucky, he offered me a loan and I took it so I could pay the rent on an apartment for me and my daughter.” You said, voice quiet “I work thirteen hour shifts six days a week, and it’s still not enough. I’m not… I don’t know who you cater to, but I have a feeling it’s not someone like me.”
“No.” she crossed her arms over her chest, “It seems as if you’re an oversight.”
“Great,” you flexed your numbing fingers, “An oversight you’ll let go?”
Natasha shook her head, clenching and unclenching her jaw. “No, I’m afraid not.”
#Natasha Romanoff#Natasha Romanoff x y/n#Natasha Romanoff x you#Natasha Romanoff x reader#Mafia Boss Natasha Romanoff#Marvel#Marvel Fanfiction#Clint Barton#Kate Bishop#Bucky Barnes#Mafia au#request
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The Eye of the Hurricane [4] - Spark
A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ I hope you’ll like it, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤️
Summary: A quiet night on the rooftop holds new promises.
Word Count: 3500
Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.
Series Masterlist
“I’m not saying my best friend in the entire world betrayed me, but I’m kind of tempted to change her name into Brutus in my contacts.”
“Just because she cancelled on this dinner you mentioned?”
“It’s a tradition at this point,” you said, leaning back on the couch. “Us and the Barnes family get together every two months, we’ve started it way before my mom passed away. I get that it’s the bachelorette party of her friend’s sister, but still!”
Dr. Cooper smiled calmly.
“Are you nervous because Bucky is going to be there?”
Your head shot up and you forced a nonchalant laugh.
“Bucky doesn’t make me nervous,” you said, the words coming out of your mouth in a rush and she raised her brows.
“Doesn’t he?”
“He annoys me,” you pointed out. “There’s a difference.”
“I can see that,” she said. “And why does he annoy you?”
Your eyes snapped up at hers and you shifted your weight on the couch.
“We have history.”
She hummed. “What kind of history?”
You nibbled on your lip, your stomach doing a flip at the memory but you pushed it to the back of your mind, rolling your shoulders back.
“Let’s change the subject.”
She thought for a moment, then put aside her notebook to with a sigh.
“Y/N,” she said. “We’ve been having these therapy sessions for three months now, am I correct?”
“Yes,” you said. “Sarah Wilson recommended you, she’s a good friend of mine.”
“And you were seeing Dr. Phillips before?”
“No offense to Dr. Phillips but I don’t think we were a good match.”
She nodded.
“That can happen,” she said. “But I just need to make sure you understand that if these therapy sessions are going to work, you will have to step out of your comfort zone sometimes.”
“Oh, therapy isn’t in my comfort zone,” you said with a wave of your hand. “You’d think it would be, after years and years of experience but…”
“I’m aware this is not what you want to hear but for us to make progress, you will have to be open with me,” she said. “Instead of changing the subject all the time.”
You smiled. “I don’t think me being completely open with you is in your best interest.”
“Why not?”
“Just a hunch,” you stated, your voice completely flat and she hummed.
“How about this?” she said. “Perhaps you could just try sharing something small with me. I’m not saying you have to share every single thing if you’re not comfortable with it, but…maybe something that happened recently and how you reacted to it?”
For some reason, “Someone tried to shoot me a week ago” didn’t feel like it was a great conversation starter so you leaned back, looking up at the ceiling to come up with something.
“I’ve recently found myself in sort of an… unideal situation,” you ended up saying and she nodded her head.
“That’s a wonderful start,” she said. “Can you elaborate?”
“Someone acted very rude towards me the other night when I was having dinner with a friend from college,” you said. “And I was annoyed at how inconsiderate it was to pull that shit when I was in the middle of something. Like what, you couldn’t wait an hour or so to do this on my way back home?”
“How did you react when it happened?”
“I didn’t get to react much because Bucky placed himself in that situation as well.”
“He was there?”
“Passing by,” you spat, “Anyway, he got involved and the situation was resolved pretty fast.”
“In disagreements like these,” she said. “It’s incredibly important that we make our stance and boundaries clear.”
You pursed your lips. “I don’t disagree.”
“So this inconsiderate person you speak of, would you say they know how you feel about the issue?”
You repressed a smile, then leaned back, crossing your legs.
“I think so,” you said. “I expressed very clearly how I felt about the issue and now, well…I’m very certain that they won’t do it again.”
*
Normally you didn’t mind these dinners mainly because you and Becca would have a lot of fun once the dinner was over. George and Winnifred had always been nice to you and Winnifred had more than once said you were family, seeing that you and Becca were inseparable even when you were little.
And you were hoping Bucky would be busy the whole night so you wouldn’t have to spend the night delivering snarks back and forth.
Ian sipped his wine while you texted Becca under the table, complaining about how she should have been there for the hundredth time since the morning before you lifted your glances from the phone.
“Becca gives her regards, everyone.”
“Oh thank you sweetheart,” your father said. “Will she not be joining us then?”
“There’s apparently her friend’s bachelorette party?” Winnifred asked, turning to you as if she wanted to be sure and you nodded.
“Her friend’s sister’s bachelorette,” you said helpfully and George smiled slightly.
“And when will we see your bachelorette, sweetheart?”
“George!”
“Not soon I hope,” your father said with a chuckle and you waved a hand in the air.
“Definitely not soon,” you said and Ian played with his fork.
“I don’t know,” he said with a scoff. “You keep dating civilians, one of them will ask you to marry them sooner or later.”
Your head snapped up and a silence fell upon the table. George and Winnifred exchanged glances and your father raised his brows.
“Y/N?”
You narrowed your eyes. “Ian doesn’t know what he’s talking about as always.”
“Oh is that right?”
“Our Y/N is a very beautiful girl,” Winnifred said as if trying to de-escalate the situation. “Civilian or not, I’m not surprised many people are interested.”
You offered her a thankful smile and turned to your father.
“I’m not dating civilians,” you assured him. “Or anyone right now.”
“But you know the rules,” your father said. “Any civilian you decide to date has to go through the background check.”
“With good reason,” George pointed out before taking his fork to his mouth and you hummed.
“Yeah yeah, I remember the whole speech.”
“Bucky and Becca got that speech as well.”
“They apparently needed it,” Winnifred said. “I mean do you remember Bucky’s ex girlfriend? Dot?”
That familiar bitterness of jealousy churned your stomach and you pursed your lips, then reached out for your wine glass.
“Were you here around that time sweetheart?” George asked you. “Or were you still away for college?”
The music was booming through the club as you walked back to the bar from the bathroom with Becca, and you looked around for your date as Becca motioned at the bartender, then turned her head when Steve touched her shoulder.
“Hi there.”
“Hey!” Becca kissed him on the cheek and you smiled at him.
“Hi Steve,” you said, taking your cocktail from the bartender. “Um, did you see my date anywhere?”
Steve shot you an apologetic smile. “I told him not to do it.”
Becca sucked on the straw of the cocktail, raising her brows and you frowned.
“What?”
“Bucky.”
Your jaw clenched and you gritted your teeth, putting your drink down.
“Where is he?”
“I just want to remind you that Sam has just bought this club, so he’d be pretty angry if you shot my brother tonight.” Becca pointed out, leaning sideways to Steve’s arm and Steve nodded his head.
“Wouldn’t look good for the club.”
“Where is he, Steve?”
Steve pointed upstairs. “VIP.”
You whirled around on your heels and stomped your way up the cantilever stairs, anger rushing through you. You made your way past his and Sam’s bodyguards by the door, then slammed the door open to step inside. Bucky was talking to Sam as you walked in while a gorgeous girl resting her head on his shoulder and Sam hissed in a breath.
“Uh oh,” he said. “Told you not to do it.”
“Hi Sam.”
“Hi Y/N.”
The girl lifted her head from Bucky’s shoulder as Bucky sat up straighter, and had the nerve to smile at you.
“Hi Charm.”
“Where is my date, Bucky?”
“I think he said he had something to do,” Bucky said, stealing a look at Sam. “Something urgent, right Sam? That’s what we heard.”
“Oh you’re not dragging me into this.”
“I’m sorry, who is this?” the girl asked and Bucky cleared his throat, then motioned between you and her.
“Y/N, this is Dot; my girlfriend.”
Your eyes snapped up to his, that familiar bitterness climbing up your throat but you managed to keep your expression flat.
“Dot, this is Y/N. She’s uh…she’s Becca’s best friend.”
Sam tilted his head to shoot Bucky a look of disbelief.
“You’ve just intimidated Becca’s best friend’s date into leaving the club?” Dot asked, confusion laced in her tone and Sam cleared his throat.
“They grew up together,” he explained to her. “Bucky tends to get overprotective of Y/N, kind of an old habit there.”
Dot pressed a hand on her chest.
“Aw that’s sweet!” she said. “So she’s like a sister to you, Bucky?”
Sam raised his brows as if trying to keep a straight face, then he shook his head slightly while you glared at Bucky.
“Well—” Bucky started but you cut him off.
“What did you say to him?”
“Nothing,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Just a warning. Don’t blame me if you keep dating people who are easily intimidated.”
“Who I date is none of your business.”
“You are Becca’s best friend so it makes it my business—also, you call that dancing?” he asked you. “He was feeling you up, he should be glad he walked out of here with his junk still attached to his body.”
You ran a hand over your face, then turned to Dot.
“Listen, I don’t even know you but you seem nice enough,” you said. “You probably deserve better than an asshole who thinks his dick is made of gold. You could do much better.”
With that, you walked out of the room and slammed the door behind you.
“No, they got together after I returned to the city,” you said. “Like a month after my graduation. I was here, she was pretty nice.”
“I didn’t like her,” Winnifred said and you let out a small laugh.
“And when was the last time you liked anyone he or Becca brought home?”
“When was the last time either of them brought someone I could like?” Winnifred asked back and you held up your hands with a grin, gesturing surrender.
“Daddy is the same,” you said. “But don’t worry, just in case things get serious with a partner, me and Becca came up with a great plan years ago.”
“What is it?”
“We’ll get everyone drunk,” you pointed out, coaxing chuckles out of them. “Should make things easier, at least for the first dinner.”
*
After dinner, you had excused yourself to go up to the swimming pool on the rooftop, so that you could enjoy the night. After their weekend house, this one was the one you liked the most among Barnes residences; it had such a lovely view of the night sky. You sipped your wine and leaned back on the lounge chair, heaving a sigh and keeping your eyes on the stars.
Becca was still partying with her friends so you were just going to enjoy some peace and quiet until it was time to go home. You loved spending time with George and Winnifred, that wasn’t the problem, but this evening you really weren’t in the mood for Ian’s bullshit. You knew very well that he knew about your date with Ethan, and though he hadn’t told your father yet, you were sure it wasn’t from the goodness in his heart.
Not that he or your father had anything to worry about. You had made sure that Ethan got a background check as your father wanted with all the civilians you dated, back at college and right before you decided to meet again two weeks back, you had done the same. It was safe, whether they approved him or not.
The sound of the door opening made you turn your head and as soon as your eyes fell upon Bucky stepping to the roof, you let out a groan.
“I thought you were busy.”
“I was,” he said, approaching you with a glass of whiskey in his hand before he sat down on the lounge chair beside yours and you stole a look at him.
“You missed dinner.”
“Mm hm. Sorry about that.”
“You never miss dinner.”
“Yeah well, wasn’t exactly my choice,” he said, making you turn a little so that you can look at him better.
“Why?”
“Overtime at the office,” he joked and you tilted your head.
“Trouble?”
“Nothing we can’t handle.”
“Does my father know?”
“He does,” he said as your phone vibrated on the small table beside you, making you check the screen.
From: Ethan
My coworkers dragged me to this café and I think you’d like it.
You smiled slightly and typed back your reply.
Well, the only way to be sure is if you invite me there the next time.
It didn’t even take him five seconds to reply back;
Lunch tomorrow?
You typed in a “Yes” and sent it, then turned the phone in your hand while Bucky lit a cigarette.
“Is that the civilian?”
“Ugh, not you too!” you whined with a grimace. “Everyone already gave me the third degree at dinner, you’d think I’m going to elope at any time.”
He shot you a light hearted glare. “They’re just worried about you sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that—and also, you’ve dated one hundred civilians, I don’t see anyone giving you speeches,” you grumbled. “It’s so hypocritical, not to mention medieval.”
Bucky chuckled, then sipped his drink.
“Well…”
“I don’t know why everyone keeps acting like the possibility of me ending up with a civilian would be a disaster.”
“Because it would be.”
“No, you know what the disaster would be?” you asked him. “Me ending up with someone from the business.”
“Oh come on—”
“Pop out a few babies, pretend I don’t know about his mistresses and go to pilates for the rest of my life,” you mused. “Dream life right there.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that and you know that,” Bucky said. “Only an idiot would cheat on you, and in case it has escaped your notice, idiots don’t live long in this line of work.”
You suppressed a smile threatening to warm your face, and instead rolled your eyes at him.
“Not worth the effort,” you said as you downed your wine, then held out your glass in his direction. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards but he still grabbed the wine bottle on the floor to fill your glass.
“Thank you.”
“As the princess wishes,” he said and you heaved a sigh, then leaned back again to look up at the sky.
“What’s going on with the business?” you asked. “Are you and Stark still on bad terms?”
“We’re playing nice,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Common interests for once.”
“I’ll pop the champagne,” you deadpanned. “He looks pretty busy; he and my father have a meeting next week as well.”
“Will Ian be there?”
You heaved a sigh. “I’d assume so.”
Bucky ran a hand over his face, then turned to you.
“Your father is not serious, is he?” he asked you. “He’s not actually going to name Ian as his successor?”
That familiar bitter taste burned your mouth but you pursed your lips together, then slipped a little on the lounge chair.
“Why are you asking me?” you asked. “Go ask him that.”
“I’m not going to do business with Ian, Charm.” Bucky told you. “If your father retires and names him the successor, that’s it.”
Your jaw dropped as you gawked at him.
“You cannot be serious,” you said. “Just because you don’t like him—”
“It’s not just that,” Bucky said. “Stark and I hate each other’s guts, but I still know he’s not going to break the truce or stab me in the back. Ian, on the other hand…”
“Ian is insufferable,” you said. “Trust me I’d know, I live with the guy. But breaking the truce is a death sentence, and he’s not an idiot.”
“I don’t trust him,” Bucky said. “Neither does Steve, or Sam.”
You massaged your temples with your fingertips. “Don’t put me in a position where I have to speak well of Ian.”
“You couldn't speak well of him if you tried,” he insisted before he took a sip of his whiskey. “Listen, I get why your father made the decision he made after your mother, but that was then. You can’t tell me you’re okay with this.”
You bit inside your cheek, swirling the wine in your glass.
“He promised it to me, Bucky,” you said through your teeth, your gaze fixed on your wine. “All those years ago. I was playing with dolls in the car and and my father pointed outside and told me that part of the city would belong to me when I grew up. So no, of course I’m not okay with the possibility of Ian being the successor.”
“Then take over.”
A small laugh climbed up your throat and you nodded at his whiskey glass. “How many of those have you had?”
“You know me better than that, I’m completely sober,” he said. “Why wouldn’t you take over?”
“Don’t you remember what went down in Massachusetts years ago?” you asked. “That family fight for the crown? They almost brought the whole city down with them, alliances got fucked, so many people died...”
“That was very different, there was no truce there.”
You clicked your tongue. “Still. It would devastate my father if I started a war in the family.”
“Ian is going to burn your father’s empire down,” Bucky told you, his piercing blue eyes locked in yours, making your heart skip a beat. “You think it won’t devastate him to watch that? If you want to be the next leader—”
“Of course I want it,” you cut him off, your whole body tense. “What I want changes nothing here.”
“Charm…”
“My father made sure I stayed out of the business since my mom,” you said. “Which was good strategy on his part, I admit. Ian on the other hand has many friends in the business and they’re completely loyal to him. He would not just hand that position to me, not when he thinks my father will name him as the successor instead of me.”
“He has his men, so what?” he asked you. “Compared to the support you would have if you wanted the crown? You have more allies than Ian.”
You blinked a couple of times, a small glimmer of hope warming your chest before you cleared your throat.
“There’s the code,” you muttered. “It’s family business. No one outside the family can get involved in the decision of who the next leader should be.”
A small smile pulled at his lips and for the thousandth time you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was, but then you frowned down at your wine glass and put it on the small table, rolling your shoulders back.
Yeah. Enough wine for the night.
“But a powerful ally in the family would make everything much easier, wouldn’t it?” he asked and you scoffed a laugh.
“My hypothetical rise to power?” you asked. “Obviously. But either way, it’d be an uphill battle. What with the city and family and everything…”
“It doesn’t have to be,” he said without pulling his gaze off you and you felt your cheeks burn under his intense stare, but managed to keep your expression completely nonchalant.
“No?”
“Not at all.”
“And how’s that?”
Bucky swallowed thickly and downed his whiskey in one go before straightening his back. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was nervous but of course that was nonsense; Bucky was too arrogant to be nervous.
“Come on,” you taunted him. “Humor me, golden heir.”
“Well,” he said after a pause, turning his empty glass in his hand. “You have a point. You would have to get most of Ian’s supporters within the family, you would have to persuade your father, and considering Ian will not want to hand you the crown, that whole process would not go very peacefully. Me, Steve and Sam already support you, but the rest of the families could take some time and effort to convince. I guess some bloodshed in the city would be inevitable as well, it’d be a huge change, considering your father’s influence and power…”
You hummed. “Or?”
A smile curled his lips upwards and he took a deep breath.
“Or,” he said. “You could marry me.”
Chapter 5
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#mob!bucky barnes#mob!bucky#mob!bucky barnes x reader#mob!bucky x reader#mob boss!bucky#mob bucky x reader#mob boss bucky barnes#bucky x reader#mafia bucky x reader#mafia!bucky barnes#mafia!bucky#mob au#mob! bucky#mob bucky#mob bucky barnes x reader#mob!au
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Hell Hath No Fury Like A Farmer Socrned
PAIRING: Female Rancher! Reader x Mafia Boss!Bucky Barnes
SUMMARY: When his lover is snatched from her ranch, everyone better watch out, and not for the reason they all thought.
WARNINGS: Cannon-level violence, mentions of blood, fighting etc.
Word Count: 1284
A/N: Wow here we are! My first AU! I had this idea while I was a work the other day and thought it was funny. Sorry if it is not that coherent but I tried. If you guys want to see more of this pairing send me some ideas! I'd love to try some more of these two!
Enjoy! <3
Divider by Rookthorne
James Bucky Barnes was known for many things, brilliant, cold, ruthless, fierce ruler of the Brooklyn mafia, amongst many other things. One thing he was not known for was his cool temperament when someone he cared for was in danger which is why his two most trusted men, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson hesitated outside of their boss's office door, not sure how they would break the news. After sucking a deep breath, the pair walked into the room. Bucky sat at his sturdy redwood desk, feet propped up as he leaned back in his lavish office chair. His gaze snapped from the contract to his men standing in the doorway before returning to the papers in his hand as he spoke.
“How may I help you, gentleman?” His deep voice reverberated across the room.
“They’ve got her, boss,” Sam stated evenly, ice dancing across each word. Bucky was on his feet in an instant, staring down the mean in front of him.
“What?” He hissed, any other person in his company would have shivered at the venom lashing out of his words, but it just caused Steve to sigh looking his boss, his dear friend in the eyes.
“They got Y/n at the farm this morning. They just sent in a live video feed that Stark has pulled up in the conference room no-”
Before the words could finish leaving Steve’s mouth, Bucky was shoving past them and all but running down the hall to the conference room. He burst into the room to see Tony messing with the camera feed while the rest of his most trusted men sat around the table, staring at Bucky waiting for his reaction. Bucky walked over to his chair placing his hands on the back of it as he stared at the screen playing the live video feed of Y/n sitting there, tied to a chair with some plastic-coated twine, no doubt from the truck she was in earlier that morning.
Bucky’s eyes traced over her frame, looking for any injuries. If there was so much a hair out of place he thought as his ringed fingers gripped the plush material even harder, causing his knuckles to turn white. As he continued his assessment he landed on her face and it was then that he sucked in a breath, taking notice of how her once soft lips were now busted up and the small gash across the bridge of her nose. What caused him to let out a breath was the overall look on her face. She was livid. Her jaw clenched tightly, her once sparkling eyes dark with fury, he could practically see the rage pouring off of her. Evidently, the guards standing on either side of her took notice as they began to shift uncomfortably.
She's going to be fine. Bucky thinks to himself as he lets out a small sigh of relief.
Bucky pulled out his chair and sat down calmly, catching everyone in the room, including Steve and Sam who had joined the room just a few moments ago, off guard. He cocked his head sideways,
“Will you let them know that we are all present Stark? That seems to be what they are waiting on.” He spoke, his tone even and calm causing everyone to share looks as Tony patched in the audio.
“Afternoon Barnes.” A voice called out as a figure walked around from behind the camera revealing Brock Rumalow, the leader of the rival mob who had been fighting with the Barnes Corp. For many years.
“Looks like you are starting to slack, she was an easy grab.” Rumalow sneered as he approached Y/n, walking around her chair as he ran his hand up her arm and wrapping a hand around the back of her neck causing an even more crossed look to appear on her face.
“Such a shame, I don’t understand why you would let such a pretty little thing out of your sight.”
The atmosphere in the conference room was tense. Everyone knew about the sweet little cattle rancher Bucky fell in love with many months ago. He had finally brought her around during the Christmas party last month where she was loved by everyone who was able to talk with her. However, she was new to this world, his world and so everyone was worried about her the moment they heard she was taken, but watching her now, she didn’t seem the least bit scared, more annoyed than anything, causing confusion to ripple through the air, but no questions were asked as Rumalow continued speaking,
“I believe she has a few things to say to you, James.” He crowed walking away from Y/n with a pat on her cheek, returning to his position behind the camera while she let out a loud huff.
“Yeah, I got some things to say alright. If you aint here in the next hour, I’m gonna be walking home myself. I got a mare due any day now and these asswipes didn’t bother to close the cattle gate after they got me so now all the cattle are probably running amuck stressing out poor Parker.”
Bucky let out a soft chuckle, only Y/n would be worried about her poor farm hand while she sat tied down to a chair by her boyfriend's rival gang.
“I got the location of the camera Buck,” Tony calls out from behind the computer, “It’s only a few blocks away, in that old warehouse on the junction of 5th Avenue and Bakers Street.”
Bucky brushed invisible dust off his pants and started to speak when there was a large commotion coming from the video feed.
Everyone watched in pure shock as Y/n snapped the twine holding her in place, jumping up and kicking a chair at one guard and wrapping the now wrecked twine around the other's neck yanking him down to the ground, his skull hitting the floor with a sickening crack.
Once the guards were dispatched, Y/n glanced to her left before darting off in that direction, the shock of her escape must have finally worn off of Rumalow because everyone, except for Bucky, jumped to their feet as gunshots began ringing out behind the field of view of the camera. There is a loud metallic “thwang!” before Y/n returned to view, holding an old shovel with a small smattering of blood on it and an even more disgruntled look on her face as she examines her once clean cream and blue plaid shirt that was now ruined by a few small patches of blood.
Bucky smiles as he hears a few curses leave her mouth along with a “I just got the blood out of this shirt”.
Y/n then walks up to the camera, letting out a huff as she picks it up and starts making her way towards the side exit. She glances down at the camera before she starts speaking,
“By the looks of it, you have 45 minutes to get here before I start walking, which believe me you do not want me doing that. ‘Cause I swear to God and all that is holy James Buchannan Barnes if that foal is on the ground by the time I get back I’m whooping your and everyone else in that room's asses.”
Bucky chuckles and stands up looking at Sam and Steve as he motions for them to come with him to the garage to pick up Y/n.
“It looks like she had them after all.” Bucky muses as they enter the elevator. The other men nod in agreement as Sam then says, “Remind me to never piss her off.”
#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes#mafia au#mafia boss!Bucky x Rancher!Reader#mafia bucky x reader#mafia bucky barnes#mafia bucky x you
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His Inheritance ~ Chapter 32
Part 32: The Rising
Series Masterlist
Words: 8k
Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader
Warnings: References to mafia, reference to violence and violent acts, references to sexual violence. Strong language. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.
Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.
Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The first thing Steve was aware of was the softness of her touch. The delicate stroke of her fingertips dancing nervously over his forearm, his hand. Slowly, the scent of her perfume invaded his senses that were just beginning to return. It was a comfort in the sea of perfect darkness all around him.
Knowing his wife was alive, at his side, was everything to him.
Her teardrop on his skin made his heart squeeze in his chest. The low sound of her crying in the quiet of the room. He tried in vain to open his eyes, to move his hand. To speak. None of his commands were answered so he could comfort her.
But he was here now. That was something, right? That he was awake? Aware?
Steve needed to get back to her and his life in the worst way.
“Steve,” you whispered, leaning closer to him. “I’m so tired… “
Steve knew she probably couldn’t sleep under the circumstances. He had no idea how long he’d been out of the loop. Now he was coming back to life, restless. All he really wanted to do was hold her, watch over her while she slept.
And while he held her safe and sound, he’d begin planning his takedown of fucking Barnes.
The press of her lips against his pulled him out of his thoughts. Another hot tear dotted his cheek. Her sadness had him trying in vain to move, to let her know he was there. He was with her.
She was so strong, his beautiful wife. She’d been wounded and without him, she was alone. Afraid. Did Barnes or the other families know what happened? Were they all in any danger from Barnes? Or Hansen?
She carefully climbed onto the bed to lie next to him. It made him happy to have her so close, warm at his side. All he could do was to be there with her.
“Steve, you have to come back to me,” she said with tears in her voice, a fear he’d never heard from her bleeding onto her tone. “So far, most of them haven’t figured it out… That you’re out of commission.”
No one knew? Had Dyson told her that?
Her fingers danced over his chest, his heart. She was careful to keep her weight off him, but he wanted it. He wanted the warm press of her body against his. It felt so good to have her there, so close.
And she wanted him back. She loved him. She told him she loved him before she left for Hansen’s that fateful day.
“He figured it out,” she said, sniffling. “He knew it wasn’t you who did…”
Who figured it out? Figured what out?
Steve’s sluggish heart sped up at that, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“We haven’t heard anything yet,” she whispered. “I don’t think he’s dead. If he were, I feel like we would have heard something by now.”
Who was dead? Dread pushed him to fight harder to get back to the surface.
A soft sob from her had fear battling heartache in his chest. Why did she sound so broken? What had happened? How long had he been out?
“I couldn’t even do it when the time came,” she whispered. “I’m so ashamed, Steve. I was right there, sitting next to him on the bench. He had no idea who I really was. He had no idea why he was really there.”
Who? Steve would have screamed it if he could have. What couldn’t she do? His fears escalated as he waited for her to continue.
“I really hope we killed him, Steve,” she said quietly. “I don’t think we did though. Yelena said the poison would do damage, could shut down his vital organs… But we would have fucking heard something by now, right? If Barnes really died?”
Steve was trapped in his body, in the darkness, with growing fear. She’d confronted Barnes? Tried to kill him with poison? Poison Belova gave her?
Belova was supposed to be cast out of his household.
Anger pushed against fear then. He’d thrown Belova out because she got in his wife’s head, encouraged her rebellious behavior. She was supposed to protect his wife, not lead her into danger.
“You’ve got to wake up,” she begged him. “Please... We struck back at Barnes. To protect this family. To protect your position… But if he wakes up… He suspects all the things we’ve done were me, not you. He called me an evil bitch…” Her laugh was bitter, choked out by tears. “If he’s still alive, he knows the truth. It’s only a matter of time, Steve, until he comes after us. After me. Please, for the love of God, you’ve got to wake up.”
What did they do? As much of a force as his wife was, particularly with Belova backing her, he couldn’t imagine that whatever danger they’d gotten was done without Dyson knowing about it.
As he understood it, they’d done something to Bucky. Poisoned him. They didn’t know the other man’s status. Was he dead? Alive? If he was still alive, it sounded like he’d be coming for them.
Coming for his wife.
“I knew I’d find you here.” Belova. The sound of a door closing.
His wife didn’t move. If nothing, she snuggled closer to him.
“Have you heard anything?” his wife asked.
“No, there’s no word,” Belova said. “And no news is good news.”
“I can’t take this anymore,” his wife said, her voice breaking. “Steve’s still out and every minute of every day I have to worry… We’re so vulnerable right now.”
“So is Barnes,” Belova told her.
“The other families have to be wondering what the hell is going on,” his wife said.
“There are questions,” Belova said. “There are rumors and stories. Very little of it is anywhere close to the truth.”
“Something’s got to give,” his wife said. “Barnes is either out of it like Steve or he’s biding his time. Waiting for the right moment to finish this.”
“You can’t dwell on this,” Belova’s voice was closer now. “Steve will come back to you.”
“Yes.” She sounded so small, unsure.
“And when he’s back, he’ll take it from there.”
“What do you mean?” his wife asked.
“We hit Barnes on a very personal level,” Belova explained. “That’s the way it’s done. Barnes may be just fine right now and carefully planning his next move. And he needs to think long and hard on whatever action he takes. The Starks are partial to the Rogers family. So are the Wilsons.”
“How many times is Dyson going to be able to hold them off when they call,” his wife wanted to know. “We don’t have much time left. If Steve would just wake up… He’s going to kill me.”
Steve wasn’t going to let it go. That was for damn sure.
Belova laughed softly as his wife fought back tears. “He may be proud of you. I am.”
Sniffling, his wife said, “If he’ll just wake up, I don’t care. He can keep me locked away for a year, whatever. I just need him to be okay. To come back to me.”
Steve couldn’t have heard that right. He was out of it. His wife could make any decision his men would allow. And for her, his men would allow quite a lot. And she was worried about him.
“He will,” Belova told her. “He loves you… But be ready. He’s going to be pissed when he finds out what’s been going on while he was out. Kicking me out again will probably be the first order he gives.”
She wasn’t wrong.
“No,” his wife said. “I won’t allow it. You are my personal protection. He agreed to that. And I can’t think of a time when I’ve needed protection more, right?”
A sigh. “Your husband may not see it that way.”
“I don’t care,” she said petulantly. “He can wake up and bitch at me about it. I’d love that. But you’re not going anywhere, Yelena. I need you.”
Steve again tried in vain to open his eyes, to speak. To move anything. Surely it was only a matter of time before he could, right? Now that he was aware, it wouldn’t be long. He had no idea how long he’d been like this, but it was past time he got back to his life. To his wife.
***
The next time Steve woke up, he was alone. He couldn’t hear anyone else in the room. Steve wished his wife was still there. He missed the warmth of her, the smell of her.
The chiming of his phone on his nightstand played again and he realized it woke him up. On the third chime, Steve reached for the phone and then his eyes flew open when he realized what he’d done. That he’d moved.
His eyes flew open. Tapping the screen, he answered the call, bringing his shaking hand with the device closer to his body so he didn’t drop it. Steve felt so weak.
“Yeah,” he muttered for an answer. His voice sounding as rough as a bad country road.
“There he is,” Tony Stark said with a smile in his voice. “I told Dyson if I didn’t talk to you today, I was coming over there. I asked him if you were too important to talk to me now.”
Steve snorted and it was an uglier sound than he expected from who knew how many days of disuse. “Too busy,” he managed.
“I guess, damn.” Tony laughed. “I have to admit, Barnes came in hot once the crown was on your head. I was getting worried about how you’d handle it all. How you’d handle Barnes.” Tony laughed again. “That was brutal.”
Oh, God. I don’t even know what they did…
“I know you were being… magnanimous before,” Tony went on. “I get that. But when you decide to deal with things, well…”
“Barnes had it coming,” Steve said, his voice a little stronger with each word. No matter what they’d been up to since he’d been out, Barnes deserved it. He had no doubt about that. “He left me no choice.”
“Hey, I’m not questioning you, big guy,” Tony told him. “Really, I’m not. Just curious when we were all going to collectively talk about how this is going to go. What’s going to happen to Barnes, stuff like that.”
Steve’s hand shook so badly, he passed the phone to his left hand. “Soon,” Steve told him. “We had some injuries.”
“Yeah,” Tony said, “about that. How are you? There are rumors flying around that you got shot or Dyson got shot. A couple even said your wife had been hit.”
His wife had been shot. And he’d been more terrified for her than himself in those moments after the shot fired. Steve had been fucking terrified, so terrified he hadn’t felt the bullet strike him at the time. But he was grateful. She hadn’t mentioned a thing about her injury or any effects from it. That was good. Maybe it meant she was on her way to fully healed.
“My wife was hit,” Steve said, fighting to speak as he normally did. “My top lieutenant was threatened. I can’t have that.”
“Absolutely,” Tony said, still sounding supportive. A tone designed to let Steve know where the Stark family stood in everything. Tony Stark had always been proactive. It was appreciated. “You needed to give the bastard something to think about.”
“I did,” Steve told him. “Do. I’ll be in touch very soon to call a meeting.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Tony told him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Steve blew out an exhale, feeling tired from just the conversation. But damn it, he was awake now, and he needed to get back up to speed as quickly as possible. They were all likely still in some danger from Barnes, his family.
“I’ll let you know if I think of something,” Steve told him.
Ending the call, he dropped the phone onto the bed. The edges of his vision threatened him, fading to black. He broke out in a cold sweat, very much afraid if he blacked out now, he might get stuck again or worse.
Steve just had to face it. He needed to recover physically and there was nothing he could do to rush that.
And he needed to catch up. He needed to know what was done when. He’d have to accept responsibility for those actions to protect his family, his wife.
It was slow going and took a lot of effort but after several minutes, he was able to sit up, swing his legs over the side of the bed. His vision was dark around the edges, his breath came fast, and he broke out in a cold sweat from his efforts, but damn it, he did it.
***
You spun and moved through the Waltz of the Flowers, focusing on remembering the port de bras, the steps. You saw the ballet in New York during one of your secret trips and came home begging your instructor to help you learn anything from it. In that last year you lived in the home where you grew up, you’d worked hard to learn the small role from one of your favorite ballets. Oh, it wasn’t the Dewdrop Fairy, the leader fairy of the dance that no one seemed to even know existed. You were learning the dance of the supporting flowers from the classic story and that was good enough for you. That was plenty for you at the time.
Today, with everything preying on your mind, you’d gone back and watched the dance on YouTube first to remember all the steps. Anything to keep busy, to occupy your mind.
Was Steve coming back to you? You didn’t care if he really did beat your ass if he did. You’d take it. You just needed him back.
There you were in the studio Dyson helped you set up. There was still pain in your shoulder, but it was better each day. You had on your black leotard and tights. A fresh bandage covered your wound. It was chilly so you pulled an old sweatshirt for warmth before fitting into your pointe shoes.
You started the music with your phone and fell into those simple steps. The slower graceful dance of the flowers. And after the first minute or so, it all came back to you. The gentle spins, releve, plie. You didn’t imagine the dewdrop fairy you were supposed to be dancing around at first, not the other dancers. This dance was for you. A solo flower from a magical Christmas land far away.
A lone black flower from a funeral arrangement?
No. Shaking your head, you fought back tears and started the dance.
It was really the only thing that gave you any peace the last few days. Lost to the dance, the music took your mind off looking out the windows every few seconds to see if Barnes had shown up to kill you all yet. To kill you. Because you knew by now, he must really want to.
It also kept you from sitting by Steve’s bedside and crying for hours.
As much as you could remember, you moved through the steps of the dance. It wasn’t that good at first. But as you visualized it, worked through the dance in your mind, your dance got better, your movements more graceful as you moved. As you swept back to make room for the Dewdrop Fairy in your mind to come dancing back, you saw something in the corner of your eye. But as you came to a stop with the next step, you froze.
It was Steve, awake, looking washed out and weak as he leaned against the wall, watching you. He’d wrapped his bathrobe around himself, his feet were bare. The intensity of that blue-eyed expression took your breath away. He smiled as relief took you to your knees. All you could do was stare to see your husband was awake, finally. And you knew he was going to be pissed at you. So pissed. But you scrambled to your feet and sprinted for him, skidding to a stop when you realized you needed to be careful with him because of the wound, the stitches.
Wrapping your arms around his neck carefully, you couldn’t help but kiss him with tears spilling from the corners of your eyes.
Steve kissed you back with a ferocity that surprised you as weak as he must have been. You let him. You were just so happy he was awake. Alive. Sure, all hell could break loose any minute now within the prominent Boston crime families but Steve coming back to you was the most important thing. The only thing. Everything else, with his lips sliding against yours, seemed less important in that private moment.
Steve shook in your grasp as he kissed you. Concern had you breaking that. As much as you’d like to think it was from that passionate moment, you didn’t want him to pass out on you. Not when you just got him back.
He let you steer him towards one of the folding chairs you kept in the studio, mostly to set your items on. You swept it all out in the floor as you urged him to sit and carefully, he did. But his gaze never left you. The man was staring at you with something like… awe?
“You’re okay?” he asked carefully.
You nodded, pulling the loose neckline of the sweatshirt you wore to show him the bandage. “It doesn’t hurt much now. I’m just fine Steve. Thanks to you.”
“You’ll have a scar,” he warned.
“I don’t care,” you told him, swiping at the tears with your hands. “Steve, you took a bullet for me. Why did you do that? Why were you even there?”
His eyes were suspiciously glossy as he stared at you. “I decided about five minutes after you left that I couldn’t risk losing you. I needed to be there. To protect you. It’s even scarier to think if I hadn’t been there, I would have lost you.”
A chill ran up your spine to consider he was right.
“I think you’re really glad to see me,” he said, his voice rougher than usual. The half smile that formed on his lips had your heart racing in your chest.
“Of course I am,” you told him, not even trying to stop your tears. Your mind spun with what you needed to do. “How are you feeling? I should go get Dyson and have him call doc. Yeah, I—”
“In a minute,” he told you. His hand carefully capturing yours, stopping you before you could flee to do just that. “You told me you loved me before you left that day. Was that real? Or was that in case you didn’t see me again?”
Steve had to be able to hear your heart. It felt like it would pound out of your chest. “It was real.”
He kept looking at you like you were a ghost, an image in his mind. “I’ve never… I’ve never seen you dance before. You look beautiful.”
“You’re always busy,” you said with a smile, melting under that comment.
“Will you dance for me one day?” The softness of his voice when he asked that question had your heart squeezing in your chest. The sincerity threatened to break you.
All you could do was nod.
Tugging your hand, he urged you closer. His hands at your hips guided you to sit on his lap and you were careful.
“We need to talk,” Steve said. “Just you and me for a moment.”
Oh, shit. Here we go.
You shook your head. “What’s more important than your health?”
“I need to know what’s happening,” Steve said slowly. That look he gave you. How long had he been up? Had he already talked to Dyson?
“Not a lot.” A huge lie. “We’ve all just been watching over you. Hoping you’d come back to us.”
“What’s happening?” he asked again. “What happened while I was out?”
You swallowed hard. Somehow Steve knew.
More tears. “Steve, what am I supposed to do? You just woke up and—”
“And?”
“When I tell you what happened, you’re not going to be happy.”
Steve huffed a laugh. “I’m sure.”
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you quietly started talking. You started with the aftermath of the shootout at Hansen’s house after the two of you had been shot. You told him Hansen was presumed dead but there was no proof.
Steve shook his head, telling you, “Hansen’s not dead.”
You told him Dyson had been roughed up but not badly harmed. Several of Barnes’ men had died. Clint had killed Banner and Hansen shot Neal in the face. You told him about the young woman who’d been taken from the donut shop on Steve’s turf and how she’d been found in Hansen’s house, kept as a sex slave. Steve had looked disgusted at that.
“What’s happened since that day?” Steve asked after a moment.
“Have you already talked to Dyson?” you asked nervously.
“No, but I heard you and Belova talk,” he admitted.
Shock would have had you jumping off his lap if he hadn’t kept you there. “What? You heard us?”
“I did,” Steve told you. “Not enough to know what’s going on. Enough to know you put yourself in danger with Barnes. Want to tell me about that?”
No.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Dyson exclaimed out of nowhere. “What are you doing out of bed?”
“I needed to get up,” Steve told him with a smile.
Dyson was as careful as you had been in hugging him. The happiness in the older man’s eyes was unmistakable as his gaze moved over him, assessing him.
“We need to get doc here to look at you,” Dyson told them.
“I need to talk to my wife first,” Steve countered, his grip on your firm.
“Yes, you do,” Dyson told him. “But after doc has looked at you. Then we’ll all talk because I think that would be best. There’s a lot you need to know.”
Words couldn’t express how much you loved Dyson at that moment.
Taking your hand and helping you stand, Dyson smiled. “Go call doc,” he bid you.
Nodding, relieved to get the doctor here and to have help in telling Steve that story, you pressed a kiss to your husband’s cheek and scrambled off to do that.
***
Steve watched you flee like you’d escaped the gallows. He let the tears come then. Pure relief ran through his veins. His wife was alive and recovering, crying over him.
Maybe she really does love me.
He hadn’t gotten to watch you dance long before you spotted him, and he regretted that. He could have watched that all day. He recognized the music from The Nutcracker Suite, but he couldn’t say which scene it was from.
But there his wife had been, all in black aside from the light pink shoes she wore. You might have been a shadow dancing, but your movements didn’t echo loneliness or sadness. Your movements were graceful but confident. It had been a stark reminder of so many years you’d been alone. It occurred to him now what you must have done with all that time your father left you in the care of servants.
You had a lot of time to listen and learn.
“Let’s get you back to bed,” Dyson told him, helping him up out of the chair.
To Steve’s dismay, he was weak as a kitten. He allowed Dyson to help him to his feet and walked with him towards his room. He had no intention of getting back in bed, however.
“No, I’m getting dressed,” Steve told him. “I want to have that talk and hear what had happened while I was… out. Soon as possible.”
Everything.
Once he was seated on the side of his bed, watching Dyson gathering a casual outfit for him, his mind took over.
“Why was she anywhere near Bucky Barnes?” Steve wanted to know.
Dyson paused for a beat but went about his tasks, not making eye contact.
“I didn’t like that part either, boss,” Dyson said. “But when we lay it out for you, maybe it will make more sense.”
“You were in on these plans?” Steve asked.
Dyson approached him now with his clothes, his gaze unwavering. “I was.”
“Where does our family stand right now?”
Dyson placed the clothes on the bed and regarded him calmly. “Your family is the head family, and you are its leader. None of that changed while you were out.”
Steve could only imagine what had to happen for Dyson to say that so confidently. “Why was my wife involved?”
Dyson still didn’t react. “Because like it or not, your wife is part of this family, son.”
Dyson hadn’t son’d him in many years.
“What did I say—”
“No, you’ll listen to me now,” Dyson cut him off. “After the situation Hansen put us in, we didn’t have a choice but to react as the lead family and you weren’t available to make decisions, so the task fell to us. Turns out the plan was Barnes’s. Taking me, taking your wife, all of it. Hansen just decided that he was going to take Mrs. Rogers for himself hence the betrayal.”
“I know,” Steve said. He remembered all that.
“And there were all these stories out on the street, see? Some of them were very close to the truth,” Dyson explained. “If you hadn’t fallen into a coma from blood loss, you’d have been calling those shots. Since you were unavailable…”
“You did it?” Steve accused. “And you involved my wife?”
Color darkened Dyson’s face in a rare display of frustration. “No, your wife stepped up. And you need to start paying attention because your marriage, your wife, has been the problem here ever since you took power.”
“You’re blaming my wife?” Steve couldn’t have heard that right.
“No, I’m blaming you.” Dyson was direct. “You married her, you took the crown. You should have flourished. You had everything you needed to rule. Everything you wanted. Her, her father’s backing, your family’s strength. Why do you think it didn’t work out, huh?”
“I wasn’t counting on Barnes to have such a problem with all of this. I knew—”
“No,” Dyson cut him off again. “Forget Barnes. This is all on you.”
“How do you figure?” Steve realized Dyson was pissed at him.
“If you hadn’t been so obsessed with your wife, you would have handled things,” Dyson explained. “You navigated her into this marriage – with her father’s blessing – and that should have been that. You get married to the old boss’s daughter to solidify your claim. She’s a beautiful young woman who will keep you on your toes. But no, that wasn’t good enough…”
“What the fuck are you getting at?” Steve asked. Was it brain fog keeping him from seeing what his mentor was getting at?
“Just what I said,” Dyson told him. “Your obsession with your wife is the fucking problem. It’s your blind spot and it always has been. If you hadn’t been so busy trying to control her, to mold her into what you thought she should be, you wouldn’t have been at odds with each other all these weeks.”
Maybe he had a point.
“If you hadn’t been at odds with your wife and fixated on that, you wouldn’t have come so close to losing that leadership position you wanted so badly. You wouldn’t have come so close to losing it all.”
Dyson got closer. Got in his face.
“You were also too blind or too stupid to realize that your wife has the instincts she does,” Dyson went on, meaning business. “She’s sharp. She reads people well. She’s a lot like her old man.”
Steve nodded. “I’m coming to realize that.”
“Good,” Dyson said. “Because we’re all going to talk about what happened while you were out. And she will be there. She earned her place at the table and you’re going to hear what she has to say.”
Steve nodded his acquiescence. Dyson wasn’t there when Steve brought his wife in to craft the plan to deal with Hansen. He’d been Hansen’s hostage.
No, Steve was very interested in what happened and what part she played in it. But as a husband, he was also slightly terrified of what he might hear. As a man in his position, he needed to figure out how to keep his wife and family out of harm’s way, to protect them.
Steve didn’t have the physical strength, at the moment, to fight any of them.
“Let’s get you in the shower,” Dyson told him, helping him off the bed.
***
“Maybe I should sit this one out,” Yelena muttered as she walked with you to Steve’s study. “I can’t imagine he’s going to be happy I’m still here.”
You stopped, looking her in the eye. “No, you need to be here for this meeting. You’ve been at my side since I married into this situation and I’m not allowing him to send you away again.”
Slowly, she smiled. A flash of hope lit up her hazel eyes. “You’re ready for this, aren’t you?”
You nodded. Indeed, you were. While your husband had been comatose, you did what you thought was best for the family, guided by Steve’s own council. It was still a dangerous time and as far as you were concerned, all of you needed to be involved until Barnes was dealt with and Steve’s position was solidified once and for all.
“I need to know you have my back,” you told her.
“Always,” she said, meaning it.
“Then let’s get in here,” you told her. The two of you were the last to arrive.
You’d cleaned up, dressed in a simple black dress and cardigan set with silver piping. Maybe it was silly, but you’d always worn it when you were heading into the unknown. Your secret trips to New York City with your governess or those rare meetings with your father before you took care of him in his final days. With the stockings and glossy black heels, it felt like armor.
And as you met your husband’s gaze from where he sat behind his desk, you realized you needed armor. His gaze swept over you appreciatively as you sat in the chair directly in front of him and next to Dyson. He looked you over too. He smirked in what you thought was approval.
“I saved you a seat,” Scott smiled at Yelena, motioning to the chair next to him to your left.
Clint and Luca sat with them behind you. The room was unusually quiet. Steve nodded to Clint who got up to close the door to the office.
Steve’s gaze moved over everyone in the room, he took his time. He wore a crimson sweater with jeans. He looks so tired. Finally, his gaze stayed on Dyson.
“My wife told me most of what happened after we were shot,” Steve started. “I need to know what happened after that.”
Dyson looked to you, and you nodded. It was probably better that he start. Steve cocked a brow at the silent communication.
“It was pretty much Tuesday at the Okay fucking Corral,” Dyson told him. “It was all me and Yelena could do to get the two of you out. But Hansen didn’t wait for that. It was a hell of a shootout. Barnes lost several men, we lost some too. Not as many.”
“Your friends make it out?” Steve asked.
Dyson nodded. “And we were damn lucky they happened to be in town.”
You were indeed. You were especially grateful to Jensen.
“You got the two of us out,” Steve said. “Then?”
“Hansen and Clay faced off,” Dyson explained. “Hansen was hurt but he made it out. He ain’t dead. Barnes gets a hold of him, he might wish he were.”
You couldn’t imagine Hansen being afraid of anyone.
“We got everyone back,” Dyson went on. “Got doc over here… You lost a lot of blood and went to sleep on us. We had a lot to think about, boss. You have to realize that Barnes’ plan that night was meant to knock you off the throne. They set a trap for you. Neal and I were supposed to go confront Hansen and take him out. That was our plan. But Neal was working for Barnes.”
Dyson cut his gaze to you. “You never liked, Neal. You weren’t wrong.”
No, you weren’t. The bastard had been nothing but disrespectful to you and Yelena. He’d put you at odds with your own husband by telling him about the nurse’s visit. How happy he must have been when Steve locked you away as a punishment. Thinking about it now, maybe Neal did it on purpose. The fact that you were stuck there might have made it easier for Hansen or Barnes to get to you.
“Barnes plan was to use me to lure you out, boss,” Dyson said. “The plan was to take you off the board for good. Barnes was confident, all things considered, that Hansen could get it done with Neal’s help.”
You shivered thinking about it. Steve trusted Neal. He’d go to protect Dyson. It might have worked.
“Instead, Hansen decided to lure Mrs. Rogers out and he meant to take off with her,” Dyson explained.
“Where is Neal?” A muscle twitched at Steve’s jaw.
“He’s dead,” you said quietly. “Hansen shot him in the face.”
Steve met your gaze, shaking his head.
“And since then?” Steve asked. “What’s happened?”
Dyson glanced at you, at the others. “We had a situation. Barnes hit us hard, and you were in a coma. If anyone realized you were out of commission, we would be dead in the water. A response was expected. And a response was delivered.”
Steve nodded. “I guess you did. Tony called me and he sounded impressed… So, what happened?”
“We sent Barnes presents,” Dyson told him. “Paulina was the warning shot.”
“Paulina?” Steve asked.
That had your heart lurching and old jealousy rearing its ugly head. Paulina was Kat’s sister. Was Steve afraid Kat had been hurt?
“Yeah,” Dyson said. “She’s still around. We just put her in the hospital.”
Steve looked confused but didn’t say anything.
“Kat appreciated Barnes taking care of the bill,” Dyson said. “She brought him a thank you gift. We sent him a gift too in the same bag. He got a five-finger discount.”
That blue-eyed gaze cut to you and back.
“Neal was his eyes and ears in this house for too long,” Dyson went on. “We took those and made a special treat for him. A tiramisu from his favorite restaurant.”
Your stomach clenched just thinking about that. You couldn’t imagine finding human ears and eyes in your dessert.
“And the grand finale was all heart,” Dyson told Steve, turning to grin at Clint on that one.
Steve blew out an exhale and you just waited for the tirade to begin. You could tell his mind was going a mile a minute and you felt bad for him because his color was off, and he looked so tired.
“Belova was there at Hansen’s when I arrived,” Steve began. “I do remember telling her she’s out.” Scrubbing a hand over his beard, he shook his head. “And you all just let my wife be party to all this? Killing people? Eyes, ears, hearts? I don’t even understand why Paulina was involved in this.”
Had your beautiful bastard of a husband learned nothing from all this?
Dyson shot you a warning look, watching you shift in your seat. “We collectively—”
“Yelena,” you started, “is the only reason we’re all still here.”
A quick glance at her showed her staring at you in surprise.
“When you sent her away,” you went on, “which you had no right to do because if I remember correctly, her being my personal protection was your wedding present to me, Dyson knew the danger she’d be in on the street. His friends were in town, thank God they were, and she stayed with them while they were here. She’s the one who got us the intel on Banner. She called Clint and told him where to find him, hiding on Stark’s turf. I explained all of this to you that day. He didn’t say anything about killing Banner at the time because of Nat and how she’d take it. No one gave him the order to kill Banner, but he did. I’d like to think you’d do that if someone beat my ass the way he beat your sister.”
Steve looked alarmed. He was about to say something, but you beat him to the punch.
“If that chain of events hadn’t happened, that day would have been far worse, Steve,” you went on. “If Dyson’s friends hadn’t been here, the day would have been worse. We can’t ever let this family’s safety depend solely on luck ever again. That was too close.”
Shifting on your chair so you could look around the room at your family and dearest friends, you shook your head.
“Paulina?” you asked. “Yeah, maybe that was stooping to their level. Banner beat Nat more than once and all the while he was spying on us. Betraying you. Beating Paulina was Nat’s call. A sound beating with bruises that wouldn’t show. It’s a good first step in taking back her power.”
Clint met your gaze, nodded his approval.
“Who did it?” Steve asked.
“Oh, I knew you’d ask that,” you told him. “Does it make you feel better that it was Yelena who did the deed?”
You could just tell from the subtle shift in his expression that it did.
“We found the girl who worked in the donut shop locked in a room in Hansen’s house. He was keeping her there because she looks like me. You can’t imagine what that poor thing has been through.”
Now Steve really did look startled.
“And the rest?” You said to your husband. “Dyson didn’t want me to be a party to it either, no. And I didn’t order any hits if that’s what you’re worried about. The fingers in Kat’s shopping bag? They belonged to Hansen’s man who kidnapped that girl. He died in the shooting at Hansen’s house. He didn’t need those fingers anymore.”
Steve just stared at you now.
“The eyes and ears?” you went on. “Neal was already dead. Hansen killed him.”
“Who’s idea was that?” Steve managed to ask. “The tiramisu?”
Luca’s hand shot up. “Mine. I made it.”
That had you grinning.
“The heart was Banner’s,” you explained. “He was already dead too.”
The slightest flush of color darkened Steve’s face. “And what about Barnes? You want to tell me why you were anywhere near him? What were you and Belova doing there?”
There was no going back now.
“The house is being watched,” you explained. “Stark and Wilson called every single day. We were worried that someone was going to figure out what was going on here, that you were potentially done for.”
Dyson’s gaze on you was intense, the hurt still flashing in his eyes from that plan because he’d disagreed with it so vehemently.
“We tried to take Barnes out,” you explained watching disbelief bleed into his expression. “After everything he’s done to all of us, he deserves it, Steve.”
You were speaking forcefully while your husband listened with an expression that you were struggling to read.
“Barnes gave us the idea himself,” you went on. “He called the girl from the donut shop. He wanted to meet with her, to see if she knew anything that would help him find Hansen. We arranged the meeting. I went in her place. I wore a mask because some people still wear them from the pandemic, and he didn’t realize I wasn’t her. Not until the end…”
Steve leaned forward in his chair, angry now. “What the fuck did you do?”
“We poisoned him,” you shot back. “The blade was dipped in poison. If I hadn’t chickened out, Yelena wouldn’t have had to step in. The way it went apparently didn’t kill him, but it did some damage. It bought us some time. And now you’re awake.”
“Barnes will know something is up,” Steve countered. “He knows I’d never send you into a dangerous situation like that.”
“He does know. But he can’t prove it,” you said.
“He’s going to come for you,” Steve said, his ire fading.
“I know,” you said. You’d lived in fear of that each day that Steve was still asleep.
“He can’t tell anyone.” Steve huffed a dry laugh. “A mob boss stabbed by a woman?”
Yelena was trying not to grin at that. You couldn’t help but smile.
“I don’t want you to ever put yourself in a position like that ever again,” Steve said to you with uncharacteristic calm. “I want everyone else in this room to swear to me that you’ll never allow that to happen again. Break your word and you’ll pay for it.”
The other men in the room quickly murmured their agreement. Yelena remained silent, staring at her hands in her lap.
“Belova,” Steve said, drawing her attention. “You’re my wife’s chosen security. So that goes double for you. Where her security is concerned, my word is final. Not hers. You got it?”
Yelena cut her gaze to you before nodding and meeting his gaze. “Yes, boss.”
While you were happy Yelena was being allowed to stay, your concern rose. “Steve, you can’t just keep me locked away to keep me safe. Not now.”
Steve stared at you for a long moment and your heart raced while you waited. You could have heard a pin drop in the posh office.
“I won’t,” Steve told all of you. “You’ll be part of my council from this point on. You all worked together to make decisions to protect the family when I couldn’t. Do you all agree?”
The response to that question was much louder and positive. Dyson looked from Steve to you with so much pride.
“It’s done,” Steve said.
Steve had made you part of his council. Your mind was spinning.
“Thank you all,” Steve said, concluding the meeting. “Rest up today. Tomorrow, we start planning. Dyson, keep security elevated around the house for now.”
Dyson winked at you. “Yes, boss.”
Then Steve’s gaze met yours as you were about to stand. “Stay.”
You did. And it was so quiet when it was just the two of you left in his office.
“Like I told you earlier, I agreed to letting you go to Hansen’s that day, but I regretted it almost immediately. That’s why I came after you and all of it was a mistake. By now I’d like to think you realize that as head of the family, head of all the families, why I have to be careful where I go. I’m not a soldier anymore. Sometimes I forget that.”
When he put it that way, yes, you did understand. “But it was Dyson.”
“I know,” he said softly. “But if I’d had my head on straight, they wouldn’t have been able to get to him. That’s on me.”
Had everything that happened rattled Steve that much? Was this accountability?
“And I get why you felt like you should be able to go meet Barnes after that. I’d allowed you into my business, sent you to Hansen’s. That’s on me too.”
What?
“Steve, we’re married. Doesn’t that make it our business?” you asked carefully.
“Maybe so… It’s just… I’ll never be able to get the memory of you jumping in front of Dyson out of my head,” Steve said, eyes shiny with tears. “I’m willing to try this, to make you part of my council. I’m not completely sold on the idea but Dyson and the rest of them respect you enough to follow your orders.”
“You doubted it before because I’m a woman?”
“No, I doubted it because I’m selfish,” Steve said. “And afraid. Dyson’s right, you have good instincts. You knew more about what was going on in my house in a few weeks than I ever have... My father was like that, gave me good advice.”
Tears stung the backs of your eyes as you listened to your husband.
“Your father was a mentor to me too the last year of his life,” Steve went on. “He knew more than my old man. Dyson and Luca seem to think you’re a lot like him. Maybe they’re right.”
“Steve—”
“Let me get this out,” Steve told you. “I’m used to having enemies. I’m not used to having enemies that want my wife as much or more than ending my sorry ass. Twice now you’ve been seriously threatened. How am I going to lead the families when I can’t protect my own fucking wife?”
He was blinking back tears and you dashed around it to get to him, to wrap your arms around him. He again pulled you into his lap, holding onto you like you were a rant in the storm. When he finally got himself under control, that blue-eyed gaze was back on you.
“If you want in on this business, I agree,” Steve told you. “Under the condition that you stay out of the action. Is that in any way unclear?”
At least he wasn’t asking you to swear to him. Because that wasn’t something you would swear never to do again. If someone you loved was in danger, of course you’d be in the action. Still, you nodded.
But then you thought of something. “You’re not going to agree to this and take it away from me the moment I get pregnant, are you?”
That pulled the corners of his mouth up. “I will want to. But I doubt I’d have any luck in trying that.”
“You wouldn’t,” you assured him.
“I’ve been thinking about that too,” Steve said, his arms tightening around you. “We probably shouldn’t be in a hurry to start a family… With all this going on? We’ve got time. If and when we both agree we want to start a family, we’ll revisit it then.”
You’d been braced for a fight. You couldn’t have been more astonished by what you were hearing.
“Are you feeling okay?” you finally had to ask.
That had Steve chuckling. “Yes, I’m fine. Just hoping I recover quickly because those heels make your legs look so fucking sexy.”
Okay, that was something he’d say.
His fingers tracing your leg from ankle to thigh made you shiver. Slowly, his touch skimmed up your body, over one breast and up to your jaw. Slowly, he leaned in to kiss your mouth. A slow seeking kiss that promised so much.
“You will make me a better leader,” he whispered against your lips.
“You already are a good leader, Steve,” you told him. “Maybe it was because all we did was fight all the time. Maybe it’s just that your attention was divided.”
You could have laughed at the sliver of hope creeping into his expression. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you told him before kissing him breathless.
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#His Inheritance#Mafia AU#Mob boss!Steve Rogers#Steve Rogers x Reader#Steve Rogers x you#Bucky Barnes#Yelena Belova#Clint Barton
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KNOW YOUR RHYTHM
IMAGINE… CAPTURING THE ATTENTION OF NEW YORK’S MOST POWERFUL MOB BOSS; AND HE PLANS TO MAKE YOU HIS
Mob boss! Bucky Barnes x Dance choreo! Female Reader
—- gifs/images found on pinterest, credit to original posters -—
While preparations are being made for tgow’s soon to be posted prelude and side blog launch. May or may not be turned into a full one shot later on, this idea's been on my mind for a while now.
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@mostlymarvelgirl @hollyseb @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @identity2212 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @boobsbeesbongos
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(18+ intended content) Read below the cut at your own risk!
It’s cruel to watch you, knowing that this is your last rehearsal with the girls. After this, the doors will promise an opening night to remember. But if you’ve given any hints, you don’t exactly intend on seeing it.
And for Bucky, that is just plain torture for him. Over the past three months, you have been working your pretty arse off creating a whole show routine, expertly weaving the backbone of the club’s entertainment and allocating the playlist to fit the atmosphere Bucky and his club managers wanted.
Lounging in the VIP section, a raised loft that oversaw the club’s dance floor, stage and regulars bar, Bucky still cannot take his eyes off of you. Why of all nights did you have to go racing off to another job so soon? He had paid you generously, far more than any hired choreographer could ever dream of, and yet that still didn’t seem enough to convince you. He hovers like a shadow, leaning to the dark steel railing, his ring-lined fingers drum against the dark steel as he contemplates his next move.
He barely pays any mind to his captains who take their place in the sleek, refined office that are the booths, sipping at their drinks and chatting about the club’s interests and rates. Shit that he tunes out. He can’t focus on anything when you move like that, your body arching this way and that; sinful and cause for impossible. But you prove him wrong. There are many positions he’s fantasised taking you in mid rehearsal.
Your body is pulled into the music itself. A process many seem to struggle with, but for you, it’s as easy as breathing. At first, it’d been a gamble of who to hire for the job, and now Bucky cannot dream of regretting choosing you. Renowned as a star dancer, you’re credited with awards from around the globe, in solos, duos and exceeding the numbers. Competition after competition, your name became well known.
But there is a line in your record, as Bucky had his men find, and though the exact details are still unknown to him, it’s given him an indicator that something hit rock bottom. Some time afterwards, however, you resurfaced as a dance choreographer.
And if you were still the best of the best, then he’d take you for the job. But now, he wants you for good. Dressed to the nines in outfits he’s spent on all his cards, riding to events together and having the envy of every man and woman’s eyes upon you. Hell, he’s already contemplated the venue and diamond ring.
“Chins forward, eyes open,” you call in correction, gaze set straight ahead of you in the midst of a spinning twirl before planting your heeled stiletto hard into the stage floor with a resounding boom.
Bucky’s eyes trail then upwards, the dark colour of your pantyhose hiding your skin that he’s desperate to bruise and leave his fingerprints on. His fingers curl harshly into the railing while his eyes continue to admire while simultaneously undress you, your body hugged in a very form-admiring bodysuit.
Dropping down low with the girls following suit, your hips move on beat with the music, grinding into the floor. That, of all moves, is when you make the grave mistake in glancing up at a striking pair of blue eyes, dark in their passionate longing and so bright you’re quick to force your eyes away.
But not before you flashed him a toothy smile. A smile that kills him every time. Heat rushes through your veins and rises higher into the surface of your skin, in your core it feels electric with pulsating need, but you carry on with the routine, to save face from what Bucky Barnes did to you. Unbeknownst to you at this moment of what you did to the mob boss, he groans at the tightness surrounding his clothed cock as you rock your hips back and forth, suggestive in your choreographed manner. But so dismissive in how it affects him greatly and his ability to conduct business.
No. You can’t let yourself fall into that sort of mess again. Focus. Rolling onto your back, your back arches so beautifully off the floor, it almost has Bucky gasping. The pointed pink of his tongue’s tip darts out to wet his lips.
Completely and utterly mesmerised by your rhythm, he growls like a feral animal when Steve’s voice interjects his still continuing list of how he plans to ruin you and save you.
Now at the end of your routine, you wave for Torres to cut the music and your shoulders fall heavily with an exerted sigh.
“Good work, girls,” you applaud with your friendly smile, clapping for their efforts. The girls in turn repay your praise with bashful smiles and compliments of your mentorship.
You had this way with people, and especially those under your study, you were kind and playful but remained an air of professionalism to ensure your students or your time wasn’t wasted.
Bucky feels his skin crawl and his heart drop a thousand yards into his stomach. From the lavish watch strapped to his wrist, he inspects the time. End of rehearsal. End of your contract with him.
“Well, they learnt from the best.” Your head turns fast, vision momentarily blurred, there again is that feeling - that spell - he has you under as he saunters down the stairs and towards the stage where you stood, hands pressed idly into your hips.
His tongue runs over his teeth, groaning inwardly as his eyes sink and rise in study of your entire form. He could see you being his queen. You’ve a powerful stance, that much he can see, and you possess a quality that has the attention of anyone and everyone on you. A commanding presence.
“You’re too kind, Mr. Barnes.” Your cheeks redden more. Praise from your clients always makes your heart flutter with adoration and joy. For them to express their gratitude in the ways they do, it’s good to know you have succeeded in your job.
But when Bucky praises you, you become a giddy girl that gushes and yearns to hear more. He sees the way your face shifts to reflect that professionalism, all to hide the reality of what he does to you; what he could do to you if you just gave him the chance.
“I could be much kinder, Doll.” His voice has lowered into a velvety purr, the callous massage of his fingers shoot a blaze of electricity through the thin fabric of your pantyhose and into your skin like ice, a simple touch over your calf, teasing you further as his palm encloses around you as well, sliding up and down gently. Despite your position above him, a sight he’ll never grow tired off, his up-tilted chin reaches level with your stomach. He sees the inner turmoil of conflict flash in your eyes, a battle he’s sure he can win if he plays his cards just right.
“VIP access tonight to start?”
You scoff, shaking your head. But the furrow in your brows betrays your true, raw disappointment. You can’t hide it. Not from him. “I can’t. I have an early flight tomorrow.”
Thanks for reading!
————
#female reader#bucky barnes x reader#mob bucky au#bucky barnes#mob bucky x reader#mob boss bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky fic#bucky barnes oneshot#mafia bucky barnes#mafia bucky x reader#mob bucky barnes x reader
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Hybrids Mafia Princess Series
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
#vampire#tvd klaus#hybrid#the vampire diaries#the originals#the vampire diares imagine#the originals imagine#Marvel#Avengers#niklaus mikaelson#niklaus imagine#klaus imagine#klaus x reader#klaus x y/n#Klaus x oc#klaus mikaelson#klaus mikaelson fluff#klaus mikaelson imagine#klaus mikaelson moodboard#klaus mikaelson smut#klaus mikaelson x reader#mafia!bucky barnes#mafia bucky barnes#mob boss!bucky#mob boss bucky barnes#mafia!james barnes#bucky barnes x daughter!reader
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i love you (stuckyxreader)
A/N: Actually my first post so feedback is super welcome. :)
Warnings: angst to fluff, mentions of gunshot, mentions of blood, hospital (i think thats it)
w/c: 554
Fingers gripped my cheeks roughly as I felt my head being lifted onto something warm. Another set of hands pressed into the wound on my stomach which sent copious amounts of pain through my body. I left out a groan in protest and heard my name being called out, though it sounded distant.
“Y/N?! Baby can you hear me?”
Even though my eyelids felt like they were glued shut, I forced myself to crack them open slightly, to be met with deep blue eyes that belonged to Steve. Fear, anger and relief were only some of the emotions that swirled in the depths of blue as he stroked my hair softly. It took me a few moments, but from the corner of my eye, my vision picked up on Bucky pressing his hands into my side, trying to stop the blood from leaving my body. It was only then, when I remembered the bullet that had hit me.
Tears began to fall from my green eyes and my body began to shake as the weight of the scenario hit me.
I was going to die.
Steve gently brushed the tears away, speaking to me but I couldn’t hear him. It felt like I was underwater. I whispered a soft “I love you” to Steve, watching as his eyes darken and his face filled with rage. My eyes met Bucky’s and I repeated the statement as he began to shake his head.
Everything slowly started to dim, and I felt hands frantically shake me before the world went dark, the pain vanishing.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The first thing that hit me was the smell. It smelt overly medicinal and sterile. Confusion filled me as I pried my eyes open, wincing at the bright white lights that shined above me. I let out a moan as my body was overwhelmed with pain. The sharp throbbing from my side accompanied with the dull headache made me nauseous.
Suddenly, Bucky’s face appeared above me, his eyes swimming with concern as squeezed my hand to make sure I was really awake before leaning over and pecking my cheek.
“How are you feeling, doll?” He asked with a raspy voice. I went to answer him but my throat wouldn’t cooperate, instead sending me into a fit of coughs. Immediately, Bucky lunged forward to grab the water that rested on the small table beside me. He helped me drink some water and I cherished the way the cool liquid ran down my throat, easing the ache.
“I’m sore.” I merely replied, before looking around the room.
“Where’s Stevie?” I asked the man in front of me. Bucky opened his mouth to answer before the door flung open, making me flinch at the sound. I was met with the sight of Steve looking at me with wide eyes as he quickly made his way over to me. His eyes roamed along my body as if he was expecting to see any new injuries before he pressed a firm kiss to my forehead.
“I’m—We’re sorry sweetheart.” They said as their heads hung in shame.
Shaking my head I grabbed each of their hands before pressing a kiss to the back of each.
“I love you.” I repeated to them giving them a small smile, before I closed my eyes and got some more well-needed rest.
#steve rogers x female reader#steve rogers angst#mafia stucky#stucky#stucky x reader#mafia steve rogers#mob boss steve rogers#bucky barnes#bucky angst#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x reader#bucky fluff#mafia bucky#bucky x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky x you#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#mob!bucky angst#avengers x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x female reader#steve x reader#steve x bucky#steve x y/n#steve x you#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers x reader
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AN OFFER II · 03
pairing: mob!bucky x reader
words: 3k
warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of cheating, mature themes, dark themes, language, fluff, boyd holbrook as clint barton.
“You like that girl, huh?”
“I've already told you as much as you should know,” he stated with no hesitation, his eyes still locked on you.
But Sam knew more, much more. He wasn't blind. Or clueless.
series masterlist
The heat of the evening clung to your body even before you slammed the car door behind you, making you immediately miss the air conditioned interior you hadn't had time to fully enjoy. You blamed the insufficiently long distance between your gallery and the suburbs where Steve's house was located, and the fact that you had to make a solid effort in the back seats, changing your office clothes for the light summer dress that Bucky had supposedly prepared for you – Parker had delivered such a message to you along with the dress when he came to pick you up for work.
You headed to the garden at the back of the house, where numerous conversations were coming from, merging into one incomprehensible gibberish of dozens of voices, and the smell of smoke hung in the air.
Having spotted Steve walking towards you, you put on a wide grin.
“Happy birthday.” You tied your arms around his neck, and Steve rubbed your back.
“Thanks,” he laughed quietly.
You pulled away and handed him a bottle of wine. “And this is for you.”
“Bucky’s already given me the gift from both of you," he assured with a slightly dim smile. Steve was doing his best to show his gratitude, but you could well see how uncomfortable he was. If it was up to him, the party would have had nothing to do with his birthday – fireworks and a few loved ones would have been enough.
“Yeah, I know…” You scratched your neck. “But I didn't want to come with empty hands.”
“Alright.” Steve's smile took on a bit lighter expression. “Come on,” he said, nodding encouragingly. “Do you want something to drink?”
“Oh, I'd love to,” you huffed with relief.
It was even hotter by the grill. Steve flipped a couple of sizzling steaks over, then reached into the coolbox, filled with melted ice and beers bathed in it, and handed you a wet bottle – pleasantly cold in your hand. It hissed as he opened it for you, and specks of drink fell barely perceptible on your skin. With the drink brought to your lips, you looked around; you didn't expect to find anything in particular, but your eyes instinctively landed on a familiar figure.
Holding his own beer in a loose grip, Bucky was talking to some woman. At least that's what it seemed to you at first; it soon became apparent that he was actively listening to her, and fighting with himself not to look bored.
His hair, tied back in a bun, exposed his face – slightly weary eyes, flushed cheeks and wet, shiny lips. Your own stretched in a warm smile as you watched the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on, remembering that he had once asked you to call him yours. And so he was yours.
Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Clint approaching. “Howdy, Y/N,” he spoke in a voice so not concise that you were able to judge how much alcohol, more or less, he had managed to take in. Enough to embrace you casually, draw you closer and place a juicy kiss on your cheek, his lips wet and sticky. On the other hand, as a matter of fact, Barton did not need alcohol to behave like this. “It's not nice to be late, don’t you think?”
“Hi, Clint,” you replied when you finally had the chance to do so. You carefully moved him away from you – you didn't mind that he was stuck to you, but you had to get rid of the additional source of heat as soon as possible. Nevertheless, Clint's arm remained glued to your shoulders. “I wasn't late,” you stated lightly. “I was here all the time. You just didn't see me.” You raised your eyebrows with conviction.
Clint furrowed his forehead. “No…” he said doubtfully. “That's not true…”
“No?” you dug deeper, driving Clint further into confusion.
“Clint,” you heard. The exact moment of Bucky's appearance escaped you, but given the length of the conversation you had with Barton, he had just approached the two of you. “Stop fucking harassing my wife.”
“I'm not harassing your wife,” he protested, taking his arm away. “And I don't know what she's doing, but she's terrorizing me.”
Bucky, unfazed, watched Clint in silence.
“Okay, okay…” Clint muttered, leaving.
You watched him for a moment, until you brought your gaze back to Bucky – you caught his eyes bore into you uninterrupted, and the corners of your mouth lifted involuntarily, mirroring his gentle, somewhat enigmatic smirk.
“Could you heat up something for her?” Bucky turned to Steve, who nodded in response. “Thanks.” He patted his shoulder, then reached out a hand to you, which you accepted without hesitation. He pulled you carefully toward a long, set table that, with a few stains and general disorder, gave away what stage the party was at. “I saved you a seat,” Bucky said, stroking your knuckles with his thumb. A gentle smile sneaked onto your lips again. The fact that he had done something seemingly insignificant with you in mind was all it took. “You look nice,” he added, pulling the chair out for you.
“You think?” You raised an eyebrow, and Bucky laughed softly. He put down the bottle he had been holding, took a seat next to you and threw his arm over the back of your chair. “Did you pick the first dress you got your hands on, or did you actually go through my entire closet?”
“I liked the flowers.” He shrugged subtly, his eyes briefly tracing the tiny pattern adorning the dress. “I thought you'd want to change into something more comfortable. And something more airy, because it's fucking hot,” he continued. “And, well…” he murmured, lifting his eyebrows. “It shouldn't be worn with a bra, because of-” He pointed at his own shoulders, but was hinting at yours, bare and uncovered. “So, it's actually a gift. From me. To me.”
You snorted, then shook your head disapprovingly. “You really know about these things, huh?”
“Your knees gone weak yet?”
“Almost.” You demonstratively waved your hand before your face. “You're on the right track, that's for sure.”
The party was going on at its own lazy pace.
With the excuse of needing to use the toilet, you left the table – where Steve, Sam and Clint had joined you in the meantime – and went inside the house to the empty, peaceful kitchen. You provided yourself with a glass and filled it with cool water – a pleasant change to the beer you had previously consumed.
To your surprise, Bucky also showed up in the kitchen. He peeked into the room, and having noticed you standing by one of the counters, he stepped inside. His arms crossed on his chest, he watched you without saying a word.
“Hmm?” you murmured, your lips hugging the rim of the glass. You moved it away from your mouth, and, thinking nothing of it, pressed it to your neck. For a brief moment, Bucky's eyes jumped to the cold, foggy glass resting against your warm skin. He quickly regained the concentration with which he had come.
“You alright?” He grunted, his mouth set in a hard line.
“Yeah.” You nodded. “Why..?”
Bucky shrugged. “I don’t know. But what I do know,” his eyebrows rose, “is that you’re hiding here. What are you hiding from, Y/N?” He took a step closer. “From me..?”
You tilted your head to the side. “What are you talking about?”
His intense stare was burning a hole in you when he looked at you like that – interested in your reactions, your behavior, your feelings, it was studying every inch, every muscle, every twitch; his eyes were wandering all over your face and body, searching for honest answers, the reasons behind your decision. “Am I wrong?”
After taking another sip, you put your glass down. “Don’t do that, Jamie. Because I see what you’re doing, you’re trying to crush me.” You folded your arms. “Don’t treat me like the people you do business with.”
Bucky’s eyes narrowed, a corner of his mouth lifted, forming a proud smirk. “Smart girl,” he hummed. “But I will do that, since you won’t talk to me.”
A heavy sigh escaped your mouth. “I just-” you hesitated. “I needed a little break.”
He got even closer, his hips pinning yours down to the counter. You gasped quietly, feeling a hot blush spreading all over your cheeks.
“Listen, baby,” Bucky started, his voice low. He licked his bottom lip, then drew it between his teeth, leering at you. “If I have to talk to you, you have to talk to me. Gotta know everything that's going on in that pretty head of yours.”
Your mouth went dry, so you swallowed hard. “And w-what if you hear something you won't like?”
Bucky sized you up. “Don't get too curious.”
After sunset, the garden was illuminated by lights positioned low on the lawn, and there was no trace of the heavy stickiness in the air from a few hours before.
For a short moment, you disappeared from Bucky's radar, but it only took him a few glances – a couple of casual looks around – to bring you back into his field of vision. He found you among clearly excited women, grinning from ear to ear – mistresses, girlfriends, fiancés and wives of other gangsters. They swarmed around you, forming a delighted ring, chirping solely about those topics that concerned your new role.
"Show us the ring. Oh, it's beautiful."
"How was the wedding? No one was invited."
"We were losing hope that Bucky would ever settle down."
"Where did you spend your honeymoon?"
"How did you spend your honeymoon?"
The division between these several groups – mistresses, girlfriends, fiancés and wives – was clear but not striking. Wives always stood at the top of the hierarchy, being a little calmer and more toned down. Fiancés, on the other hand, radiated the strongest enthusiasm – unlike girlfriends, they felt much more secure in their position, and, like wives used to be, were still hopeful and optimistic about the future.
"You know, don't worry if he gets a mistress. It's a bit shocking at first, but mistresses are only there to please them. Nothing more than that."
"Exactly, they just need fresh meat.”
"Especially after children come along. Then it's even better for you. You won't have the energy or appetite anyway."
"It doesn't have to be that way. Stop scaring her."
"It doesn't have to be that way, but it's always better to be prepared for it."
"Someone like Bucky Barnes definitely needs a lot of attention. He has a lot on his plate. And you'll have to take care of the house, the kids and your husband? Oh, and I hear that you have a job?"
"But you will have your children. Children are great."
"Unless they grow up. Teenagers are-"
"Last time, I couldn't leave Mason in the daycare. There was an outbreak of stomach flu."
"Oh, poor thing."
Bucky, watching you standing in the center of that crossfire, saw you shrinking more and more. For a short while, it seemed to him that there were some advantages to this whole situation; that you were socializing with the people from his environment. But he finally realized that you were actually uncomfortable – he concluded this especially after you emptied an entire glass of unspecified liquid in one gulp. From the grimace on your face, he figured it surely contained percentages.
But perhaps it had to be that way – perhaps you had to learn the hard way that it was in Bucky's company that you felt safest.
With a hand shoved in his pocket, and the other embracing his beer, Sam stood next to Bucky. “What are you doing?” he asked; after all, Bucky was standing by himself, staring at a group of women.
“Looking.”
“Yeah, I can see that. But why?”
Bucky shrugged. “I like looking at her.”
Sam’s forehead creased as he once again glanced at the women. Only then did he understand who was the target of their attention. He smiled to himself and shook his head. “You like that girl, huh?”
“I've already told you as much as you should know,” he stated with no hesitation, his eyes still locked on you.
But Sam knew more, much more. He wasn't blind. Or clueless. “Okay, okay…”
“Alright. I'm going to rescue her,” Bucky said, lifting his cup to his mouth. “Before they eat her alive.” He left the empty cup on the table he had been leaning against and walked in the direction of the group. They went quiet as he approached, then burst out again with excitement, welcoming him.
Bucky caught the look of relief and gratitude on your face. He put his arm around your waist and rubbed your lower back affectionately. You rested your hand on his torso and continued listening to the questions and delights flying around in the air. Bucky didn't want to be rude, so he didn't pull you away from there right away. However, when he was right next to you, you felt a surge of new strength that allowed you to bear it all for a little longer than you thought.
A few big grins and forced laughs later, Bucky finally escorted you out of the group. The two of you stayed attached to each other as he led you slowly in some unspecified direction – as far away as possible from the force that sucked you in, chewed you up and spat you out.
“Are you okay?” Bucky chuckled softly, caressing your shoulder.
“Yeah,” you replied immediately, but somewhat barely conscious.
“Wanna go home?”
“Oh yes, please.”
As you stopped at the entrance to the bedroom, Bucky lifted his eyes from his book and bore them into you – your hair was still slightly damp from the shower, and only the thin fabric of a short nightgown separated him from a direct view of one of his favorite things on Earth – your naked body. Thinking very little, or rather, thinking about nothing but one thing, he closed the book and put it down on the bedside table.
“What's with the face? What’s wrong?” he asked.
You climbed onto the mattress and sat on your bent knees, resting your hands on your thighs. Bucky reached for one of them; he grabbed it loosely and stroked your knuckles. He looked at you, waiting, but with the same patience he had always had for you.
“I'm just wondering," you began hesitantly, clenching your fingers on his in a nervous impulse, “if you're planning on having a mistress. Or... mistresses,” you added barely audibly; your voice failed you as soon as your mind realized what was actually coming out of your mouth.
Bucky’s brows drew together. He slowly sat up, bringing himself closer to you. The thought of him downplaying the problem, dodging the subject or laughing in your face made your muscles tense.
“Well-” he began, his forehead slightly furrowed. He didn't speak for just a second, but that much was fully enough for you to process the hundreds of ways he would give you an affirmative answer. Of course I am, but it’s for the best, or Baby, you didn’t really think I would be faithful, right? Or One girl is just not enough. “It happens,” Bucky said carefully. “And it is considered completely normal with the life we lead-”
You nodded hurriedly. “Yes, I realize that.” You knew it; after all, you came from the same environment. Did your father happen to cheat on your mother? You remembered that your uncles, who were not really your uncles, happened to show up with newer and newer aunts. “But I'm not asking how it works. I'm asking about you.”
“I'm not planning on having a side chick,” despite the fact that this time he didn't even think for a second, he sounded calm. “Not, since I already have the most gorgeous girl I could come across,” his tone and blank expression proved that he was not trying to sugarcoat or pull the wool over your eyes; he was just honest.
You lowered your gaze to your hands, to the inside of one, where a now faded scar was drawn – the same as in Bucky's hand.
“You are saying that because we are in the honeymoon phase and the sex is still good,” you stated. “But what about later? I'll have to take care of the house, the kids, my job. I won't have the energy to give you the attention, and you will eventually need some fresh meat-” you babbled, forgetting to breathe. You closed your eyes and hid your face in your hands, coming to the conclusion that you had let them mess with your mind. You even used the same words as them.
Bucky gently wrapped his fingers around your wrists and pulled them away from your face, then cupped it and made you look at him. Stroking your cheeks tenderly with his thumbs, he watched you with a hardly visible but soft smile – a smile full of understanding. “If,” he emphasized, “you'd like to take care of the house and... everything else, but couldn't handle something, we can hire a housekeeper, a nanny or a fucking assistant, alright? As for the sex…” A crooked smile crept onto his lips. “I would rather not involve any outsiders, hmm?”
A peace of mind you didn't expect to experience with this particular issue washed over you. You were blown away by Bucky’s ability to bring you that much calmness. And perhaps you were naive, but you believed him – you trusted that he would never hurt you in this way.
You nodded, the corners of your mouth turned up shyly.
“Attagirl,” he murmured, placing a kiss on your forehead. “If there’s something that scares or upsets you, tell me about it. And we'll figure it out,” he added, his lips still on your skin. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your hair.
You tilted your head back a little so that you could look at his face. Again, he stroked your cheeks with his hands, as if correcting their placement, and gave you another gentle smile. Then, without a second thought, you climbed onto his thighs, and, hugging his neck, clung tightly to his body. Having closed his arms around you, Bucky pressed you to his chest and started caressing your back. Feeling his touch, his warmth, the beating of his heart, you melted.
a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰
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The Family -- [Mafia AU, Oneshot]
40's Mob Boss!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Bucky returns home from the war and finds himself with a lifetime's worth of mistakes to make up for. You aren't going to make it easy for him, but he wouldn't have it any other way.
Warnings: smut! gun violence, ptsd, dad bucky (prepare ur ovaries) language, bucky having been a dick in the past, mentions of crime and such. The reader has a name, but it only comes up every so often so.... i think thats it?
Notes: This is one of my fave oneshots that I wrote for my patreon, so unless ya'll used to follow me there, this is an entirely new piece <3 This was basically an excuse to write Mob Power Couple Bucky x Reader, and also Dad!Bucky <3
Words: 17k!!!!!!!!!!!
1944
Bucky stares up at the familiar building, old and faded, but homely. Well, not on the outside, but on the inside certainly, he knows that much. Knows the war wouldn’t have stopped his Ma from keeping her home in any way she could.
Tentatively, he hikes his duffle bag higher on his shoulder and crosses the street.
Climbing up four flights of stairs, where he can hear the familiar sounds of the neighbours through their doors on each landing, when he finally arrives on his floor he pauses, smiling for a moment as he breathes in the sweet smell of home cooked food wafting in from under the door. Of all the amenities and freedoms he’d missed during his time overseas, the food had been the worst.
Lifting a hand, he knocks lightly and steps back, waits quietly even as he hears muffled speaking and shuffling on the other side. For a moment when the door swings open, his heart jumps, worried maybe he’d over expected his welcome.
“Bucky?! James?! Oh, my baby! My baby, my baby!”
His doubt is washed away by his mother’s tight embrace, her arms wrapped around his neck in a vice grip that almost throws him off balance. He chuckles and wraps his own arm around her middle, breathes in the familiar scent of home, and closes his eyes a moment.
“It’s so good to see you…” He says, Winnifred Barnes pulling back for a moment, her hands cupping his face tenderly.
“Is it really you? You’re home?!” Bucky smiles softly, and takes her hand in his own, squeezing them.
“Yeah, Mama, I’m home, I’m here. I promise.”
Once Becca had arrived home from her shift, and her own subsequent bout of crying and hugging, the Barnes’ had sat down for dinner as a family for the first time in five years. Becca had talked his ear off about what she’d been up to, and unlike when they’d been kids and he’d get annoyed, he simply listened and enjoyed the sound of a voice he hadn’t heard in too long. During long nights dug down in trenches, the only sound a blaring machine gun some ways away, Bucky had wished for his sister’s long rants.
Winnie kept heaping more servings onto his plate, asking if he were hungry, pouring him more water until Bucky finally just asked her to sit with him, and held her hand for a long while. Every so often she would squeeze it, as if checking to make sure that he were really there.
“So… how’d you lose it?” Becca asks after dinner, when they stand side by side clearing up the dishes while Winnie made sure his room was fit for sleeping once more. Bucky smirks and sideyes her.
“You know you lasted longer than I had you pegged for. Now I’m just glad I didn’t make bets.” He says, earning an elbow in the side. Becca scoffs and rolls her eyes.
“I’m not a kid anymore you know, I’ve got… tact and shit.” She tells him, and Bucky chortles.
“Oh yeah? Tact and shit, huh? Mama teach you that?” He earns another elbow, but it's soft, not as sharp, and the two laugh for a moment as Bucky continues to dry off each dish as Becca hands them to him.
“Landmine, in Italy. Heard the click before the guy who’d stepped on it, shoved him out of the way… thought I was a goner, but woke up a coupla days later in a hospital. Said they were sending me home.” He eventually breaks the silence, but doesn’t look up from the plate he’s drying, even when he feels his sister’s gaze on him.
“Did it hurt?”
“After, hell yeah, but they gave me some pretty good meds. Don’t even remember the trip home.” He jokes, and Becca chuckles.
“From what I’ve heard, that's a good thing.”
Bucky hums.
“You been to see Vivi yet?” She asks, a little bit of stiffness in her voice, and Bucky sighs.
“No.”
“She know you’re home?”
“No.”
“You gonna tell her?”
“I don’t know, Becca!” Bucky says, exasperated now, and rubs his hand over his face. He sighs again, giving her an apologetic look.
“Yes, probably. You know it’s complicated.”
Becca purses her lips and drains the sink.
“You’re my brother, and I love you endlessly… but she was right. And you are stupid.” She says, stepping forward to catch him on the cheek with a kiss.
“The sooner you tell her, the better it will be.”
Bucky watches Becca leave the room and leans against the counter, chewing on his lip.
‘Better’ is all he can hope for, and yet he still thinks that's far from what he’ll get.
The walk isn’t far, he knows the way by heart even after all these years, and in the cold Brooklyn air, he keeps his head down and his hand in his pocket as he moves. Street lamps light his way, and when he finally turns down a small alley, he takes a deep breath before he climbs up the rickety metal staircase and enters the building.
Inside is when he feels his chest start thumping, and with each flight climbed and each door number passed, he feels like it may just jump from his chest completely.
He knocks, and steps back, waits as he hears someone approach the door. He doesn’t hear the chain slide, instead it simply cracks open enough for a pair of eyes to peek around the edges. They’re the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen, just as much now as when he’d first seen you all those years ago.
From your chocolate coloured eyes framed with long, thick eyelashes, your dark curly hair that refused to be tamed, and your tawny olive complexion that just seemed to glow in any lighting… Bucky Barnes knows an angel when he sees one. You’d gotten older, obviously, as had he, but it suited you.
You don’t look surprised or shocked to see him at all, if anything you look annoyed, and honestly, he thanks his lucky stars it’s just annoyance.
“The fuck are you doing here?”
God, he’d missed you so much.
“Just got home. Came to see you.”
“Well, I don’t wanna see you.” You counter, and Bucky rolls his eyes, huffing, but suppressing the smile he knows will only set you off more.
“You don’t mean that, Vivi.”
“The fuck I don’t?”
“Lemme see Ale, then.” He tries, and you narrow your eyes. He knew you too well, knew your bluster was your armour. That didn’t mean you weren’t tough as nails though.
“He’s already in bed.” You lift your chin slightly, defensively
Bucky sighs this time and looks away.
“Come on, Viv, let me see the kid. It’s been five years.”
Your expression doesn’t change, but it doesn’t harden either, and when the door shuts in his face a second later, he waits patiently, listening as the chain-lock jingles against the wood.
The door opens again, revealing you in a gown, and despite his excitement at seeing you so undressed he ignores it, and moves inside. He really did miss you, if the thought of you covered wrist to ankle in a thick robe turned him on.
“I’ll kill you if you wake him.” The threat is half-hearted, and Bucky waves a hand, stepping past you and further into the familiar apartment he’d once called home. He didn’t need you to direct him through it, and you don’t seem to want to either, instead perching yourself by the kitchen window, lighting up a cigarette.
Bucky pulls his hat off his head as he reaches the hallway, swallowing thickly before he pushes open the last door. A soft glow emanates from a lamp on a tall cupboard, giving him enough light to make out the bundled shape on the small bed in the corner. Bucky finds himself carried closer, and soon he’s staring down at the sleeping boy, his heart in his throat.
He’d grown so much… Last time Bucky had seen him, Alessandro had been one, still a baby really. Gone was the cot, in its place now, a small single bed. He sniffs, seeing he was right all those years ago when he’d said the boy would take after you, but he’s more than a little surprised to see how much of a resemblance he carries to himself.
Entirely ignoring your warning about waking him up, Bucky sits himself down on the edge of the bed, and lets his hand reach out to trace the edge of his son’s face, the soft skin warm from the many blankets you had him piled under. He recognises the duvet from your own old shared bed and sighs.
Ale’s curly hair is coarse, but soft at the same time, and Bucky smiles to himself as he smooths it down. He can’t believe he’d missed so much of his boy’s life. Not just during the war, but before it too.
He’d been an immature, stupid kid, never home, always out, always looking for some kind of trouble to get himself into.
And he’d found it too.
Bucky had met you as a teenager, both of you coming from immigrant families from Italy, and you’d fallen in love hard and fast. You’d always been tough, a little prickly, but he’d side-stepped your defences and you’d been wrapped around each other’s fingers. When he’d gotten you pregnant, he’d done the decent thing, and the thing he’d wanted to do anyway, and married you.
But that’s when things started going downhill.
Work was hard to come by, every able-bodied boy in Brooklyn was already hanging around by the docks hoping to get something, anything to help support their families. Bucky had managed a job here and there, but it was never permanent, never stable. He’d turned to less ordinary means of making money, pickpocketing, small-time theft, gambling.
You’d started to fight. You had expectations of him, to provide for his son at the very least, and yet he was too fat-headed, too stupid to listen to you. You’d always told him he was going to get in trouble, and when he did, it would leave you and Ale on your own. You’d been right, like you always were.
Bucky sighs, and moves to stand, but soft stirring makes him pause, and soon he’s looking into blinking hazel eyes, the boy rubbing them tiredly for a moment as he sits up.
“Daddy?” He asks quietly, and the excitement doesn’t seem to be there, making Bucky worry for a moment, until Ale seems to wake up more and he scoots closer.
“Daddy!?”
“Yeah, pal, it’s me, I’m home…” He relishes in the feel of his son scrambling into his lap, his little arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and Bucky feels his eyes sting, vision blurring just slightly.
“Daddy! I missed you so much!”
“I missed you too, Ale, more than anything.”
“Are you stayin’?!”
Bucky hesitates, but shakes his head, stroking the side of Ale’s face as he sits himself more comfortably on his lap.
“No baby, not here, but I’ll be at Grandma’s… but you can come see me whenever you want, okay?” Ale seems to dull a little, but his fingers catch around the dogtags under Bucky’s shirt and he pulls them free, playing with them for a moment, his big eyes travelling over the etched words.
“Okay!” He says then, and Bucky chuckles, ruffling his hair a little.
“Alright buddy, you gotta go back to bed okay? Or your Mama will kill me.” He pauses, thinking for moment before talking again.
“You in school now?”
“Uh-huh!”
“How ‘bout I pick you up tomorrow afternoon?”
“Okay!” He helps the boy climb back into bed, under all the covers and tucks him in, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead.
“Goodnight, Al, I love you.”
“Love you too, daddy… See you tomorrow!”
When Bucky steps out from the bedroom, closing the door behind him, he doesn’t expect to find you in the hallway, leaning against the wall.
For a moment you only stare at one another, until Bucky sighs.
“I missed you as well, Vivi.”
You don’t reply at first, adjusting your arms to cross in front of you, but he does notice the quick once over you give him.
“You back for good or they sending you off again?”
“Unless I magically grow another arm, I’m home for good.” Bucky mimics you, leaning against the opposite wall.
You nod and shift, eyes lingering on his missing limb for just a moment.
“Are you staying with your mother?”
“Yep.”
“Good.”
He isn’t quite expecting that, or the harshness behind it and he blinks, swallowing.
“We’re fine. We’ve been fine for five years. You don’t get to come back and just appear in our lives all of a sudden. I won’t let you toy him around with the same broken promises and bullshit you did me, got it?”
Bucky feels a pang of hurt, but he knows you have every right to say this to him, knows that before he went to war he hadn’t been the best father or husband. He knows doesn’t deserve your forgiveness. He knows it’s very likely he’ll never get it.
“Alright.” He says, taking a deep breath and nodding. Your eyes narrow.
“‘Alright’? That’s it?”
Bucky nods again.
“Alright, no more bullshit.” He confirms, and means it.
“You’ll find a job— a real one?”
“I will.” He knows earning your trust will be hard. Not just because of who you are naturally, but because he’d already had it once, and shattered it into pieces. But it's something he has to do.
You may never love him again, but he’ll prove to you he’s changed, even if it's the last thing he does.
Bucky pushes away from the wall and places his hat back on his head.
“I told Ale I’d pick him up from school tomorrow.”
You scoff in disbelief but he ignores it.
“Which one is it, what time?” He asks instead. You seem to suck on your teeth for a few seconds before you give up the information.
“Queen Street. Three PM.” Bucky nods, and not wishing to out stay his welcome, he steps past you and makes his way back to the front door.
As he pulls it open, you move to hold it as he steps through, leaning against the wood for a moment as he turns back. He’d opened his mouth to bid you goodnight but he finds himself unable to speak at the momentary softness drawn across your features, your eyes turned-down.
“Thank you for coming to see him.” The depth in your voice makes his throat run dry for a few seconds.
“And… I am glad you came home. Safe.” You add a moment later, eyes darting around the hall.
“O-of course. ‘Course.” He isn’t sure what else there is to say, or what else he should say, so he steps back and tips his hat at you.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You don’t reply, just watching him for a few seconds before you quietly close your door.
Bucky Barnes had come home from the war, but nothing in the past five years compares to the task ahead of him.
—-
“Buck! How ya been?!”
Bucky grins widely as he’s pulled into the arms of one Steve Rogers. Once upon a time, Bucky would’ve needed to bend down, but in the five years since he’d seen the blond last, the previously scrawny kid had somehow transformed into a tall, muscular man.
Not quite unrecognisable, Bucky had had to hide his slight shock upon entering Valentino’s and seeing his old friend. On the phone that morning Bucky had known the voice before Steve even had a chance to tell him. Steve had apparently heard through the grapevine that Bucky had returned, and invited him down to the local Italian bar. Bucky had needed to check twice that he’d heard the name of the place correctly when Steve told him.
Valentino’s was a mob place, everyone knew that.
“Come on, sit down…” Steve ushers Bucky into a booth, but turns toward the barman. He doesn’t speak, he simply raises his finger as if to get his attention before turning back around and taking a seat across from Bucky.
“S’good to see you, Buck.” Steve starts and Bucky smiles.
“Yeah, you too, pal. Been busy I see…” He trails off as the barman approaches, bottle of whiskey and two glasses in his hands. He sets them down between the two men and Bucky eyes the way Steve hardly acknowledges the other man, simply reaches forward and pours a healthy amount of amber liquid into each cup.
“Bit early for drinking, don’t ya think?” Bucky lifts a brow, even as he takes the glass Steve knocks toward him, clinking the rim against the blond’s before taking a sip. He scrunches up his nose.
“Like hell it is! My best pal returns from the war and that’s not celebration enough to drink?” Steve shakes his head, and then points at him.
“You’re lucky I didn’t come to your Mama’s door last night and drag you out.”
“I think you mean you’re lucky. She would’ve throttled you first.” Bucky scoffs, and the two men share a laugh.
But Bucky can’t stop his eyes from wandering around the bar, curiosity and skepticism filling him. Steve notices and follows his gaze for a moment.
“After you left, I got busy ingratiating myself.” Steve grins wickedly, his face still seemingly filled with boyish innocence as he does. Steve’s family had come from Ireland, but he’d grown up thoroughly in an Italian neighbourhood.
“I can see that.” Bucky says with a nod. Steve doesn’t make to say more on the matter, but he does place his drink back on the table and lean forward slightly, face turning more serious.
“Listen, now you’re back, I’m gonna set you up. I know you’re staying with your Ma, but I’m gonna sort you a place of your own.”
Bucky blinks and immediately begins shaking his head, frowning.
“Steve, you don’t—”
“—I do. You took the fall for me, you got arrested and sent off to europe… I owe you, pal, plain and simple.” Steve nods matter-of-factly and leans back again in his seat.
“Especially since you went and got your arm blown off.”
Bucky knows there’s no arguing with Steve, not when he’d made up his mind already. He can only roll his eyes and shake his head.
“We’ll even get you some work, I know there’s some spots coming up on a—”
“—Legitimate work only, Steve.” Bucky says sharply, sternly, and Steve eyes him for a moment.
“I can’t go getting arrested again. There’s no war to save me from prison this time. I got a family I need to provide for.” Bucky sighs. Steve throws back half his drink.
“I thought Vivi left you.” He asks bluntly and Bucky rolls his eyes once more.
“That doesn’t mean I just stop being Ale’s father. I gotta do what I can now that I can. That means staying out of trouble.”
Steve watches him for a moment longer, considering his words before he nods.
“Alright. Well, I can still help you out with that. You busy this afternoon? We’ll take your stuff to your new place, and I’ll bring you to meet one of my bosses.”
Bucky feels a slight thrill of excitement, not at the prospect of meeting one of Steve’s bosses but at having seemingly gotten himself some form of work already. But he frowns, processing all of Steve’s words fully.
“I— I can’t this afternoon, I’m picking Ale up from school at three…”
Steve waves his hand.
“Fine, after that. Just meet me back here when you’re finished.”
-
At three o’clock on the dot Bucky picks Ale up from his school and walks with him home. He’d seen your figure at the kitchen window as they’d approached the apartment building, your face showing a flash of relief when you’d registered their forms on the sidewalk.
“I’m about to meet with a, uh, friend, about a job and a place to live…” He tells you when you meet them at the front door, a smile and kiss for Ale, a guarded gaze for himself.
“A job?” You ask, taking a drag of your cigarette before blowing it off to the side.
“Where?”
Bucky isn’t even sure himself, and for a moment he considers making something up, but he knows lying to you is not the best way to start his return.
“Dunno just yet. I’ll find out when I meet with him.”
Your eyebrow lifts subtly, but you nod anyway, getting ready to move back inside when Bucky places a hand on the door, to stop it from closing fully. You turn to look back at him, somewhat annoyed.
“I’ll… I’ll let you know where I move… so that Ale can come see me whenever he likes…” Bucky informs you, and for a moment he sees the steel in your gaze soften, before you’re rolling your eyes.
“Mm-hmn.”
Bucky places his hat back on his head and takes off walking.
At least you hadn’t told him to go fuck himself.
—-
Steve makes good on his word, and gets Bucky a mostly legitimate job.
‘Legitimate’ because he was working as a driver and chauffeur, and ‘mostly’ because his boss was one Don Carlo Marinelli.
At first, Bucky had balked. He had thought perhaps he’d be given a job on the docks, or in a storehouse, not driving around one of the most dangerous and powerful men in Brooklyn… Still, it paid well, he wasn’t technically involved with anything unsavory, and it meant he got to drive one of the nicest vehicles he’d ever seen.
Over the next months, Bucky settles back into civilian life. He rented his own apartment, on weekends he wasn’t working he’d take Ale out, and even your coldness seemed to be slowly thawing. It was the first time in a long time Bucky hadn’t found himself drowning under expectation, trying to get atop of it only to pour more water in… it felt good. A small part of him missed the adrenaline and unpredictability of his time at war, but a bigger part of him knew those days were gone.
Or so he had thought.
Everything changes that night.
Bucky is sat back in the driver's seat of the car, a cup of coffee in his hand. He mindlessly whistles softly, his foot tapping out of time. Don Marinelli had entered the small church an hour or so ago, some meeting with some folk Bucky hadn’t dared to eavesdrop about on the drive over. The less he knew, the better.
The night was still and cold and aside from Bucky’s own clouded breath, there was not a single movement up or down the road.
That made it all the more unusual when there was movement.
Bucky frowns to himself when he sees the man walking toward him on the opposite side of the street, his head down, hat low, a dark coat wrapped around him and his hands stuffed in his pockets. There was just something not right about it, which is why as the man draws nearer, Bucky slumps down in his seat, sliding so his form wouldn’t be so easily spotted under the street lamps.
He needn’t have worried about being caught however, as the man simply turns, and walks right into the building Bucky had seen Marinelli enter an hour ago. He pulls a hand from his pocket as he moves, but before he disappears completely, Bucky sees a glint of light bounce off something in his hand.
Bucky certainly was no expert in mob dealings, but he knows that’s not a good sign.
With his heart pounding in his ears, Bucky scrambles, seatbelt flung off his waist, he leans over to the passengers side glovebox and all but yanks the compartment open. He knew there were guns in the car, he’d seen them before, though had never dared touch them. Now though, he grabs the hefty pistol and kicks the door open, not bothering to lock or secure the vehicle behind him as he races across the street.
His mind and body work completely on instinct as he edges inside the doorway, gun raised expectantly and eyes flicking about for signs of the man in the dark coat, but he’s only met with an empty church foyer.
Keeping his pace even and his steps quiet, Bucky moves toward where he can hear muffled voices, and finds himself in the center aisle of the main hall. At the far end, a group of men stand nearby the altar, smoking cigars, with glasses of something Bucky assumes is not holy communion in their hands.
For a moment, he falters, whips his head around searching for the other man, wondering if perhaps he’d been too worked up, too ready to jump into some action.
At the same time he notices Steve amongst the men, the blond calls out to him in confusion, but another sound catches in Bucky’s ears and it's as if time moves slowly for several seconds.
Steve’s calling of his name makes several of the men, including Don Marinelli turn toward Bucky, but a metallic clinking sound over his head makes him spin on his heels. Above Bucky, on the balcony of the upper pews, he spies the man he’d followed inside, knelt down and with a gun poised in his hands, ready to open fire.
Adrenaline and training dictate Bucky’s next moves, and with two shots, he doesn’t even hear, the man on the balcony stumbles back. Commotion erupts behind him, but it isn’t until the would-be-attacker tumbles over the edge, his body falling at Bucky’s feet with a sickening ‘thud’, that time returns to normal for him.
“What the fuck!?”
“Who the hell is this guy?!” Various shouts and words force Bucky back to reality, and he lowers the gun, tearing his eyes away from the bloodied body on the floor.
“Buck? What the hell—” Steve has jogged over to him, his eyes wide as he looks between Bucky and the man on the ground for a moment, before he places his hands on Bucky's shoulders, shaking him slightly.
“You okay, pal? What the hell was that?”
Bucky shakes his head, frowning as he tries to answer that question for himself.
“I— I was waitin’ for Don Marinelli, like I was supposed to, and I just saw this guy come out of nowhere up the street… it didn’t look right, he didn’t… look right…” Bucky trails off, his eyes fixating on his boss as the older Italian man nears.
“Boss, it's an Irish…” Another guy yells, and Bucky casts his eyes back to where a few of the younger men seem to be inspecting the body on the ground.
“You saw him coming in here with a gun and decided to follow?” Marinelli asks, seemingly baffled, but there's a hint of awe in his voice too. Bucky ducks his head a little, nodding.
“Yes, sir.”
Without warning, another hand comes down on Bucky’s shoulder, clasping firmly and pulling him forward slightly.
“You hear that boys? Where the fuck was your drivers, huh?!” Marinelli jokes, and a round of awkward chuckles echo through the church. When Bucky looks back up, Marinelli is tipping his chin up at Steve.
“You two know each other, Rogers?” He asks, and Steve nods.
“Grew up together, Buck just got back from the war.”
“So that’s where you learned to shoot like that, huh?”
Bucky nods awkwardly and swallows as the Don pats him on the back once more, before giving him a steady once over.
“Tell you what, figlio, you come see me tomorrow, we’ll see what we can do about some sort of promotion.” He gives Bucky another firm pat.
“Uh, yes sir. Thank you, sir…” He watches blinking as the Don moves back to the others, all of which look more than ready to wrap this meeting up, or atleast find a new location.
Behind him, some of the lackeys appear to be talking quietly over the body.
Bucky looks at Steve.
“What… what just happened…?”
Steve sideeyes him, a shit eating grin pulling across his lips.
“You, pal, just saved the lives of the most powerful men in Brooklyn.”
Bucky swallows and sucks in a sharp breath.
He doesn’t seem to let it out until the next morning.
—-
You sigh exasperatedly as you peek out your kitchen window, and put your cigarette out on the sill.
“Ale, are you ready il mio amore?” You hear an excited shout back from the hallway and slip on your shoes and coat. Your son bounds from his bedroom and makes straight for the front door.
“Aye! Get your coat and hat or you’ll get cold!” You scold lightly, and watch as Ale quickly pulls his jacket from the hook by the door and tugs it over his arms, he takes his hat in his hands but as you near him, you bend down to place it neatly on his head, pushing back some of his curls.
“You look very handsome tesoro.”
“Thank you Mama!” He leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, making you chortle in surprise. You take his hand and walk with him out of the apartment, and down to the sidewalk.
Waiting for you, as you’d seen from your window, is Bucky.
Dressed impeccably in a brown suit and hat, his hand in his pocket as he leans against the side of a black car, he waits patiently for the two of you. You eye the vehicle with some disdain, but focus on the man before you as Ale releases your hand to run and jump into his arm. Bucky catches him skillfully, his smile turning brighter as he holds your son near, pressing his lips to his cheek before he puts him back on the ground.
You can’t help but take in the quality of his clothes now that you’re closer, the shine of his shoes, new and unscuffed, his face recently shaved (though you see he was keeping a light stubble that suited him), and his hair cut. You see as much when he removes his hat to tip at you.
“Daddy, can I sit in the front seat?!”
“You can sit on the passenger's side, make sure you buckle yourself in!” Bucky turns from you to tell Ale, and you both watch for a moment as he hops inside the car, situating himself inside. When the door closes, Bucky turns back to you and you cross your arms over your chest.
“Must be some job.” You say, and Bucky shrugs noncommittally.
“Has its perks.”
“I bet.” You stare at each other for several seconds, you glaring, and Bucky with his relaxed and easy smile. It was infuriating.
“You know, something funny happened the other day when I went to see my landlord.” You begin and Bucky shifts his weight, frowning almost convincingly.
“Oh?”
“Hmn. I went to pay my rent and he told me ‘it’s already been taken care of’, which I think you may understand is very confusing for me…” You attempt to keep your voice even, after all, you were out on the street.
“It’s been taken care of for the next year, so if he tries to weasel anything more outta you, just let me—”
“—I don’t need you to pay my rent!” Your previous attempts at calm go right out the window, and you step forward, hissing at him with your finger pointed toward his chest. Bucky’s dumb act falls away and he purses his lips.
“I have managed just fine, I can pay my own bills.” The argument is futile. You’d already decided if he were going to be dumb enough to waste his money on your rent, you’d let him. Rubbing your temples, you take a few deep breaths.
“I don’t doubt you’ve managed just fine,” Bucky begins, and you straighten as he steps away from you and draws the car door open.
“But a man’s gotta provide.” And with that, he’s sliding into the driver's seat and closing the door behind him.
You watch, somewhere between infuriated and bewildered as the car rumbles to life. Absently you wave goodbye to Ale who peeks at you through the window, and when the vehicle has disappeared down the end of your street, you seeth. Your mind whirls and you draw blood from your lip with how hard you chew on it.
What the hell kind of game was he playing? Where had he suddenly gotten all this money from?
You turn on your heel and march the opposite way, your destination clear in your mind.
Even when the man at the bar puts his hands up and tells you they’re closed, you roll your eyes and keep moving through Valentino’s.
“Hey! Lady, I said you couldn’t be in here!” The barmen suddenly steps in your way, a tall, burly man with a moustache and a mean glare.
“Get the fuck out of my way, I’m looking for Steve Rogers.” You move to push past him, but he steps in your way again, hands lifting to grab you when a sound from behind stops the both of you.
“Vivi?”
“Steve.” You let out in some relief, and gesture to the man blocking your way. Steve stands behind the barman, clearly having just stepped out of the back office, and he eyes the two of you evenly.
“Go on, Frank, leave her alone… I don’t wanna be the one to patch you up if you don’t.” You smirk as the burly man reluctantly steps aside, and you straighten yourself as you begin moving toward the blond.
“To what do I owe the pleasure…?” He shoves both hands in his pockets and smiles down at you as you approach, but you can only let your face fall back into a glare as you remember why you came.
“I want to talk with you.”
Less than five minutes later, you’re sat across from Steve at his desk, two glasses of whiskey between you, and you throw yours back quickly. Steve follows the movement and with a slight smirk, he leans forward and refills your glass.
“What’s he up to?” You demand, and Steve’s eyebrows lift.
“What are yo—”
“—You know exactly what I’m talking about Rogers, don’t you dare bullshit me.” You warn, and the blond closes his mouth and sits back in his chair. For a moment he just looks you over, and you wonder what exactly he’s thinking.
“Where has the money come from? What the fuck kind of job has he taken on? Because I will not let him build up Ale’s hope that he’s gonna stick around, if in a year or so he’s got his ass thrown in prison!”
Steve lifts his hands in a calming motion then, and he sits forward again, relenting.
“Look, Viv, Buck has changed. Even I’ve noticed. Other people have noticed too…”
You frown at that and squint.
“This isn’t some petty thievery ring, alright?”
“What has he done?” You bite out each word and Steve lets out a sigh.
“Carlo Marinelli hired him. Bucky was his driver, nothing more. Then, six months ago, he busts into a meeting between some of the Dons, shoots dead an assassin and suddenly he’s Marinelli’s golden boy. Aside from me, that is…”
You feel your blood boil, a vein in your forehead ticking with each passing word.
“He’s… he’s involved with the Mafia?!”
Steve nods, and tips back his whiskey, quickly pours another, and tips that back too.
“Marinelli made him a caporegime. He’s uh… kind of important now…” Steve leans over and even though you hadn’t finished the last drink he poured for you, he fills up your glass more.
“That’s where the money has come from? The clothes, the car?” Steve nods. You’d known Steve through Bucky for years, the pair had been together when you’d first met Bucky, and after your estranged husband had gone off to fight, you’d heard rumours about Steve and the Mafia. You knew they had to be true, because why else would he be running a known mob joint? The guy who’d ran Valentino’s before Steve had disappeared years ago.
“Is he in trouble?” You ask suddenly, and Steve blinks, looks as though that wasn’t the question he’d been expecting.
“Trouble?”
“Is he going to get arrested? Or is he… will somebody take the fall…?” You don’t know how any of it works, not really. The truth was, you’d grown up around mafiosos and the like. Your father had moved your family from Sicily when you were eight, to help his boss get established in New York, but your mother had left him shortly after.
You knew enough, but the intricacies and relationships of the members still eluded you. Steve cracks a knowing smile then, and shakes his head.
“Not unless he’s really, really stupid. Marinelli likes him. Trust me, he’s basically untouchable.”
Steve insists on calling you a cab home, and you sit in the backseat staring out the window. The rain had just started when you’d left Valentino’s and you find yourself tracing each droplet’s path down your window until you’ve pulled up along your curb and you’re forced to get out.
Climbing the stairs slowly, your mind feels blank and distant and when you’ve finally shut your apartment door behind you, the clicking of the locks seem to snap you free of your daze.
Fine. If Bucky wanted to be a part of the mob, he could be.
You didn’t care.
—-
“You’re kidding?!” Sam pouts, looking up at Steve who stands in the doorway with a hand on his hip and another running through his hair.
“She’s barely able to get out of bed…” Steve confirms, and Bucky eyes him at the worry behind his voice.
“Steve, if you wanna bail, I’ll call—”
“—No. Sharon will be fine. Besides, she would kick my ass if I went to look after her instead of doing this.”
Bucky stares at him for a moment longer but nods.
“Alright, well, we need to figure something else out then. Sharon was an important part of this job… ideas?”
“We could put Steve in a dress.” Sam shrugs and Bucky snorts.
“Yeah, I’m sure that’ll work… any other ideas?” The three men fall silent for a moment, and they look around the room at each other. On the table between Sam and Bucky were pages of blueprints, time sheets and schedules, bullets, guns.
Tonight’s job was supposed to be a breeze, once Sharon got the manager into his office, they’d pounce and squeeze the safe combination out of him… the only hitch was that without her, they had little opportunity to get in the door.
“I do have an idea… but you probably won’t like it…” Steve says quietly a few minutes later. Bucky looks over at him, frowning.
He’s still frowning ten minutes later, with the phone to his ear and his two companions waiting eagerly. The ringing tone falters for a moment, and then your voice greets him.
“Hello, Vissenta Salvati.”
“Since when did you stop using my last name?!” Bucky demands, unable to stop himself, and he hears a pause on the other end before you scoff.
“When you pawned our wedding rings and never bought them back, stronzo. What the fuck do you want?”
Bucky flounders for a moment, and glares.
He’d forgotten about that particular mark on his pre-war personality. He’d needed the money for gambling, he’d been so sure he was gonna win big…
“I have a favour to ask…”
“The answer is no.”
“Hear me out! I… I’m running a job tonight, the safe in the manager's office at the Bluebell Club… but our gal’s sick. She was supposed to get the manager into the backroom for us…” You stay silent for a long time. Bucky knew you knew what he did now, Steve had confessed that he’d told you everything, but he’d never spoken to you directly about it, nor had you ever brought it up.
“No. I have a baby to look after and far better things to be doing.” You reply shortly. Bucky opens his mouth to plead back when Steve signals for him to hand the phone over.
“Vi? It’s Steve.”
“The answer is still no.”
“I know you’re working tonight, Winnie’s already watching Ale. Trust me, do this for us and I’ll make sure to cut you in decent.”
Bucky frowns in confusion at Steve and purses his lips. How did Steve know what your schedule was, when you were working? And why had he not known his Ma was watching Ale?
He listens as Steve seems to hum and answer a few yes or no questions, before he throws Sam and Bucky a thumbs up.
“Alright. Bucky’ll be by around seven to pick you up.” He hangs up and Bucky cocks his head.
“How do you know what she’s up to?” The flare of jealousy doesn’t go missed, but Steve only rolls his eyes and waves him off.
“I’ve been helping Marinelli run half the businesses this side of town for years, I know who works where and when, that’s my job.”
Bucky calms some.
That made sense…
“I’m going to drop off Sharon’s things with Vi. You make sure you’re on time.” Steve points at him and it’s Bucky who rolls his eyes. When Steve has left the room, he settles back over his planning, double checking everything one last time and trying to distract himself from the fact that you had accepted a cut in on a job.
—-
You check your reflection once more, a little unsure of yourself. It had been stressed to you by Steve when he’d dropped off a box for you, that it was important you wore this dress and these jewels. You’re almost certain you don’t want to know why, but you’re sure it has something to do with whatever man you were going to have to pretend to flirt with tonight.
The deep blue silk fits you like a glove and falls all the way to the floor. Your waist was cinched and your back mostly on display, the scoop neck of the top mirrored even lower at the back.
You don’t let yourself wonder if the diamond necklace and matching earrings were real, it made you worry too much, so you’d continued doing your hair and makeup without another passing thought.
You twist in the mirror of your vanity, and purse your lips at the amount of skin on display from the back. It wasn’t as if it weren’t fashionable, you just weren’t sure you could get away with wearing it…
Your thoughts are muted however, by a swift knocking at the door, and you quickly grab your purse from the bed before making toward it. When it’s opened you have to pause for a moment, your breath hitching in your throat involuntarily at the sight before you.
Bucky looks rather magnificent in his tuxedo, pressed to perfection and pitch black. The lapels of his coat looked like silk, matching the sheen of his bowtie. He’d been looking away from the door when you’d opened it, and so when he does turn, lips pulled in a smile, you have to snap yourself out of your reverie.
“Well, look at you…” He preens, and you try not to let yourself feel like a teenage girl again. You knew better.
“I did my best.” You brush him off, but he doesn’t give in, stepping in toward you slightly.
“I’d say your best is pretty damn good, sweetheart…” You swallow, and tear your eyes from his to where he’s lifted a hand for you.
Gingerly, you place your own atop his and let your door lock behind you as you’re led from the apartment building.
Bucky opens the door of the car for you, and helps you inside, and you have to force yourself to focus. This wasn’t anything but a job. That was all. Anything else was just for show.
On the drive over, a man you’re introduced to as Sam shows you pictures and goes over your brief role in the escapade. You would lure the manager, one Sheldon Mays, into bringing you into his office, at which point Bucky and Steve would take over, they’d get the safe code from Mays and you would meet them back at the car, with Sam playing driver. It was simple enough, straightforward enough, you didn’t see how anything could go wrong.
You were mistaken, clearly.
Everything had gone perfect to start with, you’d caught the attention of Mays, and had easily endeared yourself to him. After that, it had only taken a few suggestive touches and words and you were clinging to his arm, giggling girlishly as he led you up some stairs and into a large, lavish office.
“This is where the magic happens, darling…” He says, spreading his arms and you turn to look at him, coy smile on your face as you flutter your eyelashes.
“It is.” You confirm. It wasn’t that hard for you to fake this level of flirtatiousness. Once upon a time, this had been the exact woman you were… Alluring and quick-witted. Now you were just annoyed.
Your eyes skip towards the door briefly as you situate yourself on the edge of the desk in the room, and Mays begins sauntering toward you.
Where were the boys? You had thought they were supposed to be waiting for you, hidden…?
“You’re just the prettiest dame I’ve ever seen… wrapped up all in silk, hmm?” You focus back on Mays as he nears, his hands gravitating toward your hips and you have to calm yourself. You place your hands on his chest, running them up and down for a moment.
“The prettiest?” You contend, and he hums, leaning his face closer to yours. You barely suppress the urge to dart back.
Where the hell were they?!
“The prettiest. I swear… Now, why don’t you let me unwrap my present, hmn?” His hands climb higher, skimming over your back and to the thin straps on your shoulders, hooking his fingers around them. You feel your heartbeat stutter, and suddenly, you realise something about the job has gone very, very wrong.
But you were still in the office. The only thing between you and the safe under the desk was this man and his code. You could salvage this, right?
It was that, or actually have sex with this man.
Steeling yourself, you take one last look at the door over his shoulder before you let your hands curl up around his neck. His fingers have drawn the straps of your dress over the curve of your shoulders now, and without warning, you quickly bring your knee up between your bodies, yanking his head down into it with a ‘crunch’ sound.
Mays gasps and splutters, stumbling back from you as you quickly hop down off the desk.
“What the fuck?!” His voice is stifled by the hand he holds over his nose and mouth, a thick smattering of blood clearly dripping from his nose. You watch him for a moment, to see how delayed he is, and when he seems to stay put, groaning and whining, you quickly circle the desk, pulling open whatever draws you can see, until you find it.
You lift the gun easily, despite the foreign feeling of it in your hand, and step back around.
“The combination to your safe?!” You demand, and finally, Mays straightens some, confusion still clouding his bloodied features as he blinks at you.
“What the fuck?!” He repeats again, looking around as if there were others in the room, but as you were already painfully aware of, there wasn’t.
“The combination to your fucking safe, or I’ll shoot you in the cock!” You growl, moving near again, and Mays flinches.
“Lady, if it’s money you want, I’ll give you money, but that safe only has—” You flick the safety off and aim at his crotch. He yelps a little and attempts to shield it.
“Okay! Fine! Fine! It’s eight-four-one-nine!”
Adrenaline fuels you and you get an idea.
“You do it.”
“What?”
“Open the fucking safe idiota!”You wave the gun at him and he relents, keeping his hands out where you can see them as you follow him behind the desk, watch as he rolls up an area of carpet.
“Hurry up.” You snap, nervous energy filling you now. What would happen if you were caught? What were you going to do with Mays? You couldn’t just let him go…
You jump a mile, almost yelping when the office door barges open, and you raise the gun to whoever it is, your eyes wide and panicked. You’re met with the sight of Steve and Bucky, both a little worse for wear, and you wonder if the bruises and cut lips are why they’re late. You’re willing to bet it is.
“What the— Vivi…?” Bucky lowers his weapon when he spies you behind the desk, Mays on his knees before you. Despite your anxiety and your worry, you give him an annoyed look and shrug.
“You took too long… Did you really think I was gonna fuck this sap?” You tap Mays with the barrell of the gun, and he jumps, but continues hurriedly inputting the safe code.
Steve and Bucky quickly step inside, shutting the door behind them and moving over to you.
“There was an incident in the—”
“—Later, Buck.” Steve cuts him off, and grabs Mays by the collar as the door to the safe finally pops open. You watch him shove the man roughly toward a lounge in the corner, but let your eyes turn back to the contents of the safe, narrowing them when you see.
“What the fuck is this?” You demand, not a single dollar note in sight, but Bucky doesn’t seem fazed, he simply leans in and grabs the stack of papers, flicking through them.
“They’re bills of sale, for horses, houses, establishments.”
You splutter.
“Horses?! Horses?!”
Bucky looks up at you then, understanding on his face as he grabs another stack, handing them to you.
“We get these to our guys, this turns into gold. Trust me.”
You frown, but say no more as you watch Bucky grab the last pile of pages.
“Steve?” He says, and the blond gives him a curt nod.
“I’ll follow you out.”
Slight confusion colours you, but Bucky has gently taken you by the arm, and led you from the office before you can ask. He doesn’t take you down the way you’d come in, instead you end up exiting into an alleyway, making quickly for the car.
Steve joins you shortly after, climbing into the backseat, squishing you into the middle, between Bucky and him. You watch as Steve casually hands his gun to Bucky, who in turn, tosses it out the window once you’ve made it several blocks away.
Nobody really says much until you’re back at what you assumed to be Bucky’s new apartment, and you stand by the kitchen window, cigarette burning away in your fingers as you peek into the next room. There had been a group of men waiting when you’d returned, older looking men, and Sam had ushered you off to the kitchen to wait.
But through the open doorway, you can see the men counting through the slips of paper, clips of money being placed and moved over different piles, and you wonder what it all means.
You see Bucky pointing at people and papers, his voice low and commanding and despite yourself, it sends a shiver down your spine. You’d never really seen him so assertive or serious, and even if he was involved with organised crime, the clear ambition and talent he has for it makes your belly flop.
You see him lean forward to point at something on the table, explaining something you can’t hear, but in that moment he happens to look up and catch your eye.
Swallowing harshly, you move from your place to the other end of the kitchen, and wait, skin feeling too warm.
Bucky drives you back, the whole car ride tense and hot. When he turns onto your street, you direct him to a side alley by your building, where no one would see you arriving home so late with a man. He doesn't argue that he’s still technically your husband, and you’re glad for it.
“You were incredible, Vi, you saved this job…” Bucky begins once the car is off, darkness engulfing the interior of the vehicle. You look over at him.
“Somebody had to.” You snark, but it's half hearted. You know it. He knows it.
“Never thought I’d see you holding a gun.” He continues, and you have to laugh.
“If you’re lucky, it’ll be the last time.”
Bucky stares at you in the dark of the car, his eyes big and soft and you feel your chest thump. He leans over to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and you let him, eyes lingering for a moment on his hand.
How you end up on the backseat, you have no idea.
Your dress has been pulled up around your waist, probably like Mays had wanted to do to you earlier, your thighs spread wide over Bucky’s lap. You have your hands set on the seat behind his shoulders, helping you move, his hand grasping roughly at your hip as you bounce desperately on his cock.
“Holy fuck, jesus christ, you feel so good darlin’.” Bucky mutters, strained, lips pressed to your breast, but he adjusts himself and takes your nipple into his mouth, once more making you moan, one of your hands flying to clutch at the back of his head.
You hadn’t had sex in so long, and despite all his shortcomings, Bucky always knew exactly how to love you, always knew your body better than anyone else ever could. You cuss sharply when he slides down in his seat more, feet now flat to the ground, and rolls his hips up to meet yours. Your hand in his hair tightens, pulling on the short strands and you feel his chuckle dance across your skin.
“Like that, baby? Right there?” He punctuates himself with a deep thrust that sends you scrambling for a hold, and you end up with a hand pressed to the ceiling, the other held to the car seat behind you, for better leverage to ride him.
“Uh-huh! Per favore non fermarti, continua, non smettere di scoparmi! (Please don't stop, keep going, don't stop fucking me)” You ramble, eyes squeezing shut, tongue reverting back to what you know best. You feel your orgasm coming, right under the surface of your skin you can feel the prickling sensation.
Bucky makes a sound halfway between a groan and a growl, and without warning, your chin is grabbed roughly, yanked down to his face and he kisses you open mouthed, wet and warm, his tongue sliding all over yours, making your stomach turn to mush.
“Fuck, I love hearing you speak like that,” He tells you, cussing under his breath.
“Dimmi quanto lo vuoi tesoro, hmn? Tell me how good it feels honey…”
You gasp sharply at the sound of Bucky’s voice rolling over your shared language, the words sending you tumbling over the edge into bliss.
You shake in his hold, clutching onto his shoulders as you ride it out. Bucky groans beneath you, panting and huffing to himself as he thrusts deep once, twice, three times more before you feel the warmth bloom inside you.
Maybe you should have been angry or annoyed he’d not pulled out, but absently you roll your hips against his, and you’re quickly too distracted by the pleasant sensation of dripping with his cum to care.
When you’ve tidied yourself up, Bucky wraps his jacket around your shoulders and draws you near with his fingers under your chin once more. He presses his lips to yours firmly, and you can’t stop yourself from giving in.
Right when you think he may push you back and fuck you again, he pulls away and presses a kiss to your forehead.
��I love you, Vivi.” A lump rises in your throat, wanting to force its way out of you, but you swallow it back.
You watch from your kitchen window as his car pulls out of the alley, and disappears down the street.
—-
The Bluebell Club job is the first, but not the last time you get involved with Bucky’s business. As he works his way up within The Family, he brings you with him.
You put your foot down about the dangerous things, but every so often Steve or Sam call you up, needing information on a location. It usually just required you making an outing to whatever store or business they were planning on hustling, taking note of if they had any security, or what the layout was, where certain offices might be. It was good money, better than the waitressing or maid work you’d been doing for five years.
As for Bucky…
You don’t welcome him back, not entirely. He still comes every weekend to see your boy, occasionally invites you along too. Despite the fact he seems to be physically around less, busy with work, he was reliable in ways you’d never known him to be. If you called, he was there, and if he was busy, he’d send somebody around.
The first time a scrappy young kid showed up at your door, an apology ready on his lips about how ‘Mr Barnes was in a meeting taking longer than usual but he sent me to throw the ball with Ale’, you’d not be pleased. But Peter, as you’d found out his name was, was a good kid. Bucky had shown up halfway through the evening anyway, still in his fancy suit, but you’d watched from the window as he’d played ball anyway.
Today though, the visit is entirely unplanned and you purse your lips at the man who leans against his car, smiling pleasantly at you as you cautiously approach. You’d been readying yourself and Ale for a grocery trip, seeing Bucky outside your apartment was not expected in the slightest. Ale tugs on your hand when he notices his father, and you only resist for a minute before you let him fly toward him, arms out.
“Daddy!” He exclaims. You watch Bucky catch him one armed, a greeting you don’t exactly hear passing between the two before your estranged husband’s eyes are back on you.
“What are you doing here?” You barely refrain from crossing your arms over your chest, and Bucky adjusts Ale on his hip, cocks his head at you charmingly.
“I wanted your opinion on something.” He says, and you wave a hand.
“What?”
“You have to come with me to see it.” He’s being cryptic, and it strikes a cord of annoyance in you. You scoff.
“As if I have fuck all to do today that I can just drop everything to come with you somewhere?!” You usually tried to behave more civil when Ale was around, you didn’t want your attitude with Bucky to sour his opinion of his father.
Bucky rolls his eyes at your bluster, and steps around to open the back door of the car for Ale, letting him climb in.
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important…” You purse your lips again and shake your head at the fact you move forwards anyway, ignoring the helping hand Bucky offers as you too slide into the backseat. You’re forced to keep moving along the plush leather seating however, as you realise a second later that Bucky also follows you inside, and it's then you realise his car was being driven by someone else.
You help Ale with his belt, before doing your own, and stay quiet on the short drive, listening absently as Ale and Bucky discuss sports and his schooling. When the car slows to a stop eventually, you can’t help but peer up in concealed awe at the magnificent townhouses and homes that surround you.
You certainly weren’t in your neighbourhood of Brooklyn anymore, the streets here clean and tidy, with trees lining the road. You keep your awe to yourself even as Bucky helps you out of the car, and you pull your son closer, holding tight to him in the unfamiliar environment.
Bucky leads you up to the open front door of an ornate brownstone house, it's windows shiny and clean, the stoop free of debris of any kind. It looked like the set of a film, you think.
When you’re standing in the foyer, Ale’s big eyes looking around curiously, Bucky makes a wide gesture and grins at you.
“What do you think?”
“What do I think?” You repeat, completely unsure of what you think. Bucky nods.
“You want my opinion on a house you want to buy?” You lift a brow.
Bucky nods again, and extends his hand to lead you into the living space, already furnished rather simply and you take initiative in moving from room to room, inspecting the home.
Secretly, you are rather impressed. The size of the dining room must fit your entire apartment inside, and when you chase Ale up to the second floor you discover more rooms and bedrooms and offices than you can think of things to fill them with. The third floor holds it's own master bedroom and bathroom, and for a very small second, you get rather jealous at Bucky’s good fortune to be able to afford a whole house such as this.
“What do you think?” He asks again, a little quieter, and you watch Ale run from the main room one more, lost in his own game as he dives under the table. You swallow and eye him evenly.
“It’s alright. A little too big, though I suppose if you’re going to have all your goons stay with you that’s alright.” You tip your nose up just a little, and Bucky chuckles, rubbing his neck.
“Well, I’m glad you like it. I already bought it.” The words hang in the air for a moment, before you catch on them properly and you lower your chin, narrowing your eyes at him.
“Then what the hell am I even here for?!” Annoyance bubbles in you once more and doubles when you see Bucky clearly unphased by it.
“I bought it for you.” He says simply and your face falls blank.
You blink at him, opening your mouth and closing it again.
“Fuck off.” You scoff at last, turning away from him and folding your arms over your chest, but quickly unfold them when he doesn’t laugh or give up on the joke.
“Like hell you bought me a house!”
Bucky stays silent still and you feel your body begin to thrum with nervous energy.
He wouldn’t do that, would he? Why would he buy you a house?
When you look back at him he’s standing quietly in the center of the room, watching you patiently.
“You didn't!” You insist, taking a step toward him, and he only nods his head once.
“I did.”
“Why?!”
He laughs then, a soft pleasant sound that makes your tummy flop around like a fish in a bucket.
“Because I love you? Because I want you and Ale to live somewhere nicer than a piss stained apartment? Because I can? Do I need to list more reasons?”
You shut your mouth, and attempt to ignore his casual proclamation of love, looking around once more, seeing the place in a whole new light.
It was lovely, truly, and seeing as it hadn’t cost you a penny, you could hardly complain. Your mind starts to rush with all the ways you could make this a home; a new rug, a different colour scheme of course… perhaps you’d invite Winnie and Becca to live here, to fill out some of the space, if Bucky hadn’t already bought them a bloody house too.
But you harden a little, narrowing your eyes once more as you focus in on your estranged husband.
“Where will you live, because you can’t just buy me a house and expect to—”
“— I have a house.” He cuts you off and you stop, staring.
“So this is… what? All for me?” You half-scoff again, expecting him to spring the joke on you once more, but he doesn’t. He only nods.
“Do you like it? I-if not, we can find something else. I—”
Your heart quickens at his anxiety and you realise you really haven’t been very grateful. Swallowing your pride, you cross the room and stiffly place a kiss to his cheek.
“I do like it. Very much. Thank you.” You step away again as Ale enters the room, and before you scoop him up, you spy Bucky standing still on the spot, looking rather bashful.
“Guess what, bambino? Qui è dove vivremo!”
“Qui!? It’s so nice Mama!”
“It is. Now go thank daddy.”
—-
The move in is rather easy, seeing as most of your furniture was crappy enough to be replaced anyway, and with Bucky’s small army of suited-mobsters, the task is over and dealt with quickly.
To your chagrin, Bucky insists on at least one (but usually two or three) of his men staying at the house at all times, and the argument you have about it, it's the only time you haven’t seen him back down.
Usually Bucky gave in to you, whether that be because he was going to anyway, or because of your anger, but this time, he puts his foot down. He doesn’t quite yell, but he raises his voice enough over yours to make you fall silent, and while you know you should have been pissed off, all you can think about is how wet it makes you.
You let him fuck you on the desk in the office you’d set up, and you find you don’t mind submitting to him when he’s so assertive like this.
You sleep together more often, usually at his own home, occasionally at yours, but he never stays the night, nor would you be comfortable for him to. He’d made a lot of amends but there’s still something in your chest that aches whenever you look at him, a hurt not yet undone.
The trust he shows in you however, makes your chest ache in different ways. The higher he and Steve move in the mob, he brings you with him, asking you to scout places, bringing you onboard for planning. He listens to you, trusts you. That's more than he ever had before the war.
You bring your mind back to the present when a glass clinks in front of you, and you give Steve a thankful nod, before turning back into the situation at hand.
“We go in by the end of the week, the six of us, hit the safe and the lockbox and—”
“—The end of this week? That’s suicide, They have extra family in town, the place is packed out full of guards!” You cut off the mobster sitting across from you at Bucky’s kitchen table, a tall but stock man named Rollins, his hair slicked back in an almost greasy manner.
For the most part, Bucky’s men were alright, but some of them you had to wonder about…
You were currently gathered to go over the information for a hit on Irish turf. You’d finished giving your assessment of the building some time ago, and it was time for the others to propose their takes. Rollins looks at you, annoyance barely contained on his face, he doesn’t reply to you directly however, turning back toward Bucky who sits at the head of the table.
“If we miss this week, the lockbox changes hands and it’s a whole new mess of scouting out.”
“And if we go this week half of us are going to die!” You repeat once again. Bucky’s eyes swivel to you, and you can see he’s a little bored, mostly tired. Rollins scoffs this time and does address you, waving a hand toward you.
“‘Us’? Lady, you just write down security placements, you ain’t involved in this.”
Your anger flares up and you open your mouth.
“She contributes more than you do, shit-for-brains.” Sam speaks before you get a word out, and you shoot him a grateful look. Rollins waves him off like he did you and looks back to Bucky.
“Boss, you ain’t actually gonna listen to a fuckin’ housewife over me are you?”
You freeze for a moment, realising aside from Steve and Sam, all these guys thought very little little of you, and Bucky could well risk his reputation in backing you up. If he didn’t however, the embarrassment and humiliation would burn.
You aren’t sure you’d ever want to see him again.
Bucky shifts in his seat, and looks between you and Rollins for a moment, before he sighs.
“Vivi, are you sure?”
You feel yourself perk up, your whole body lighting with anticipation and glee and you nod.
“I am. Better to wait it out and have things go smoothly.” There’s another pause, Bucky strokes his chin thoughtfully before he nods.
“We’ll wait.” He says, only a tiny wave of stifled grumbles echoing around the table as the plans and maps are folded and packed up once again. Bucky leans forward though, slapping his hand down over a page Rollins is attempting to take, forcing the other man to look up at him.
“And that’s my fuckin’ housewife, so watch your fuckin’ mouth, huh?” He smacks the other man upside the head and you lean back in your chair, taking the glass of whiskey Steve had pushed toward you earlier, watching as the room slowly clears of people.
Bucky stays in his seat, looking over a few pages in front of him. He all but ignores you, which is fine, as you down the whiskey in one, and listen out for the door to shut with some finality.
You know much like your own home, there were people guarding Bucky’s at all times, so gently pushing back your chair, your move to the kitchen door, shutting it with a click. Bucky looks up then, as if he really hadn’t realised you were still in the room, and you feel the warmth from the whiskey and his words fill your bones as you slink toward him.
“Want me to call Peter to drive you back?” He asks, looking back to his pages. You shake your head, even though he isn’t looking at you, and when you near him, you sink down to your knees. He looks up again, surprise clear on his face as he blinks down at you, your hands travelling over the tops of his thighs and he clears his throat.
“Vivi, I—”
“Pull your chair out.” Whatever he was going to say is forgotten, and he scoots his chair out fully from the table, giving you proper access as you settle between his thighs. Arousal is clear on his face, in the way he watches you keenly, and in his pants, in the way they bulge slightly in the front. He places down the pages in his hands on the table, shifting to lean back ever so slightly in his seat.
“Viv…?” He starts to ask again, but it ends in a sharp, strangled breath as you lean over him, pressing your mouth to the hardness bulging in the front of his trousers. Saliva wets a patch into the material, and he twitches beneath your lips.
“J-jesus, fuck,” Bucky scrambles for his belt, and you help him, smiling to yourself, keeping his eye contact even as he blinks and looks away, a blush high on his cheeks.
You pull his pants down just enough, and quickly sink your mouth over his cock. Bucky releases a deep groan, and you watch as his head tips back, his mouth hanging open. You keep watching him as you begin to bob quickly, letting your hand wrap around the base of him. You care little for aesthetics or how loud either of you are, you let the spittle and pre-cum mix together in sloppy wet sounds as you hungrily all but devour him.
“Shit sweetheart, shit,” He finally gets a hold of himself enough to watch you, groaning as he focuses on the sight of your lips wrapped around his cock, moving quickly, your eyes keeping sight of him, and it's obvious to him you’re working to please. Your hands press against his thighs, spread wide and open and Bucky doesn’t think he knows a better sight than you in front of him, his cock stretching your lips wide, your eyes stuck on him as you swallow him deep.
His hand falls into your hair, caressing and gentle at first, but he pushes it back, holds it away from your face and gets a grip closer to your scalp. He guides your face, grunting softly as you let him move you how he wants, and he meets your lips with little thrusts.
“La tua bocca è così bella, tesoro, così fottutamente buona…” He feels you moan around him and he hisses, releasing your face.
“Keep going baby, s’all yours, keep going.” He leans over your slightly, enough to get his hand to the front of your dress, careful to pull each button apart and not break any, thankful when you helpfully pull your arms from the fabric, and undo your own bra.
His hand finds a breast easily, squeezing the flesh as he relaxes again, letting you work him over how you please as he fondles your chest. God, he loved your tits, wishes he had two arms still for the sole purpose of squeezing both at once. He lets his thumb and forefinger find your nipple, pinches harshly, enough to make you jolt, enough to make you elicit another moan around his cock, and Bucky gasps, loves that sensation.
Your eyes find each other again and Bucky licks his lips slightly, lets his head fall back comfortably as you start sucking harder on him. He’s close, knows you can tell. He keeps your nipple in his fingers, plays with the pebbled flesh, pinches and pulls at it, softly, punishingly, he knows you like it all…
His orgasm rises quickly, and falls over him suddenly, and he gives your chest a last final tug as he rides his pleasure out, spills against your tongue. He feels you swallow around him repeatedly, dragging out the sensitivity until he’s shaking.
His hands clutch at the chair arms, and as you pull away, you swipe around your mouth with your thumb, cleaning any obvious signs of what you’d just done. Bucky blinks lazily down at you, his chest still heaving with effort, though he still wears an expression of stunned surprise. You lean over him, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear.
“Lavaggio. Ale ti aspetta a cena.” You tell him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.
You leave him there, in his kitchen, pants around his ankles, cock softening in his lap, his eyes following you out.
—-
You look over the top of your sunglasses, up at the buttercream coloured walls and terracotta tiled roof of the villa before you and try to hold back your awe. Nestled in the Sicilian countryside, against the rolling hills of the vineyards surrounding you, you don’t think you’d ever seen anything quite as beautiful, not since you were a child.
The car boot slamming shut reminds you of your company, and you turn just as Bucky sets Ale on the pebbled driveway, and he skitters his way across the stones to grab your hand, hanging off of you, but you don’t mind.
“Mama, Daddy said you grew up here!” He gushes excitedly, his gaze switching between you and the large villa in front of you. Sparing a glance back to Bucky who has now moved to help one of the guards with the bags, you hitch your purse a little higher on your shoulder before leaning down to pick your boy up, shifting him to one hip as you take the first few tentative steps toward the open front door.
“Not here exactly, mi amore. But near here.” You step through into the main foyer of the home and are immediately greeted with the gathered housekeepers who greet you kindly. You’d been informed that only the maid and the chef were permanent residents. You introduce yourself and your son to them in turn, encouraging Ale to speak his best Italian, though his shyness gets the better of him, even though you can see he is intrigued by the new people.
The maid directs you upstairs to the bedrooms, upon asking if Ale would like to see the toybox, and you follow gratefully, peeking behind you when Bucky begins following with your son's bags.
“Can we go to your house?!” Ale asks a small amount of time later, when you’re sitting on the bed watching him play with some wooden toys, and the maid places his clothes from his bags into the cupboards.
“My house?” You question, before remembering his query from when you’d arrived, and you clear your throat, Bucky appearing at the doorway. He leans against it casually with his one arm, the prosthetic he’d been gifted by Don Marinelli looking like he simply had his hand tucked into his pocket. You shift your eyes back to your boy as he crawls closer to you, rolling the wooden car over the tops of your knees on it’s journey.
“My home isn’t there anymore, Ale. It was destroyed.” You say, trying to remain objective about it. It wasn’t as though you spent very long in Italy. Brooklyn was more home for you than Sicily, and yet you still feel some sadness creep into your voice at the thought of your childhood town, bombed out and raided by soldiers of both sides. The damage had been so bad they’d decided to rebuild the town a few miles over instead, the local Don helping to fund most of that, of course.
Don Regio was the brother-in-law to Marinelli, and ran operations out here in Sicily. When Marinelli had decided to vacation to his homeland for the Christmas period, he’d invited Bucky along with him, and in turn, Bucky had insisted you all go. You think perhaps he’d wanted to let you come home, and introduce your son to his roots, but aside from that, you don’t know why he’d insisted so hard you come along.
Still, it was more or less a free trip, and you hadn’t had a holiday in your life, so you’d given in with little thought.
“Ale, why don’t you play with Miss Gianna for a while and let Mama unpack her things?” Bucky speaks up then, nodding toward the maid, who happily kneels down to pluck one of the other toys from the pile on the floor, and soon you’re quickly forgotten. You watch for a moment longer before leaving the room.
It takes you a moment to orient yourself on the top floor of the manor. While the halls were open and let you see down to the lower level, you inspect the various rooms before finding one with your bag. Bucky pauses from where he had been trailing quietly behind you, sensing your discomfort, and immediately steps forward, eyes scanning. Your chest flutters slightly at how attuned he was to you, and how he’d moved to take care of the issue right away, only he too freezes when he sees it.
Your eyes swing to him and from side on you can see the bob in his Adam's apple when he swallows, quickly turning to face you.
“I didn’t— I didn’t put our bags together… one of Regio’s men must have…” He trails off, gesturing back to the stairs, where no doubt your own guard and Don Regio’s loned man must have been taking a check of the house.
You look away from him and back to the bags on the bed, yours on one side, and Bucky’s on the other. Even if you worked together and still remained in close contact, all your guys in New York knew the vague animosity between you and Bucky. They wouldn’t have ever assumed you’d share a room.
Lifting your chin slightly, you shrug as casually as you can muster and move forward.
“It’s a mistake. That’s all.” You take your bags, trying not to let the weight visibly trouble you, and quickly abscond from the room as quick as you can. Bucky is moving behind you, quickly following you as you return to one of the guest rooms you’d spied earlier, a little too late to help you with your bags, even though he holds out his hand as if to do so. You deposit them on your new bed.
“You can have the master room, if you’d like, I will—”
“It’s fine, Bucky. This way I am closer to Ale if he needs anything.” You stare at each other for a moment, and even though a warm breeze blows through the open windows and arches of the villa, you feel a slight shiver down your spine.
In his smart summer suit, skin lightly tanned and his beard a little thicker than usual thanks to the days of travel you’d endured, Bucky looks fine, broad and tall and handsome and you have to push the idea of sharing a bed with him aside. You hadn’t done that since before the war.
His eyes seem to flick over your sundress-clad figure the same way you’d been inspecting him, and after another beatm he simply lowers his head in confirmation, though his eyes don’t leave your face.
“If you prefer.” He says, shuffling and turning to step back out of the room, once again certain if the borders he was and was not allowed to cross. He turns though, and glances back inside at you, and then with an unreadable expression, cocks his head. But he doesn’t say anything, simply gives you a nod before he walks away. You purse your lips, but quickly go about unpacking your things, pushing all thoughts of him aside.
The next few days are filled with many visits to Don Regio and Marinelli’s house, for dinner and lunches and whatever else. There was little talk or discussion of business, which you were glad for, and you were even introduced to the various women of the family and their own children. It was so oddly normal that you begin to forget about the new work you’d endeared yourself to, and begin feeling like you really were just a normal family on holiday together.
Your good mood extends to Bucky too, even though you were far calmer around him now anyways, you don’t bristle or make corrections when one of the women refers to him as your husband in passing.
Christmas itself is an odd affair, with all three families gathering at Don Regio’s for lunch and dinner, presents and gifts and alcohol are passed around freely. Bucky had spoiled Ale all morning with his gifts. A new baseball glove and bat, a fishing rod so the two could fish together, various toys and baubles. You’d already agreed that you wouldn’t buy gifts for one another, but seeing your child so happy and blessed was a gift enough.
It isn’t until well into the night that you finally return home. Bucky carries Ale’s sleeping form back into the villa, and you take the moment to kick your shoes off in your bedroom, before going to tuck him in too.
Your footsteps are quiet on the stone floors, and as you near Ale’s open door you hear soft talking. Creeping closer, you pause by the doorway, just out of sight, but peek your head in enough to see Bucky sitting on the edge of the bed, Ale all snuggled up but his hands holding onto his father’s.
“Did you want to go away?” Ale asks, and you realise you’ve walked in on a conversation in progress. Bucky shakes his head.
“No, sweetheart. But I had to. I got into trouble and to make it right, I had to go be a soldier for a while.”
“That’s why Mama is always mad at you? Cause you had to go be a soldier?”
Your heart skips a beat at the question and you duck back out of sight, listening carefully to Bucky’s reply.
“No, tesoro. Your Mama is mad at me because I wasn’t very nice for a long time.”
“But I think you’re nice, Daddy!” Ale protests, and you hear Bucky chuckle.
“Maybe now. But before you were born, I was mean. I didn’t take care of her very well. Your Mama was always trying to help me stay out of trouble and I didn’t listen to her.”
You swallow and hear some shuffling of sheets before he continues.
“And when you were born, I should have been around more, but I wasn’t. And then I was gone for a very long time.” The pure sorrow you hear in Bucky’s voice makes your chest and head hurt, and you almost walk away, but your body seems frozen in place.
“I haven’t been a very good father to you, Ale, but I want you to know that there wasn’t a day when I was away that I didn’t think about you or your mama. I love you so much, sei tutto il mio mondo.”
“Ti voglio bene anche io, papà. Non voglio che te ne vada di nuovo…!” Ale’s reply makes Bucky chuckle, but you can see the sad smile on his face in your mind’s eye. You hear the sound of a kiss.
“I won’t. But I have to ask buddy, will you forgive me? For everything?”
“Of course, daddy!”
You have to quietly suck back a breath, and you start away from the door, needing to compose yourself before you see Ale or Bucky.
By the time you make it back to your son’s room, Bucky is gone, and Ale has drifted off, so you simply kiss his head, and adjust his blankets.
You’ve just finished changing into your nightgown when a soft knocking at your door disturbs you, and you look toward the open doorway, half expecting your boy, but instead you find Bucky.
He wears only his trousers and dress shirt, suspenders hanging around his waist and a few of the buttons undone, as if he’d come to see you halfway through getting undressed.
“Yes?”
“I…. I know we said we weren’t going to buy each other gifts…” He begins, and you straighten, feeling your brow fall into a light frown. You’d feel bad if he’d gone and got you something anyway, when you really hadn’t bought him a thing. Bucky holds out his hand toward you, and in it, a small box. It isn’t wrapped, but you don’t blame him seeing as you know he struggled with tasks like that.
Eyeing him cautiously, you step toward him, plucking the box from his fingers gingerly.
“I didn’t get you anything.”
“That’s alright. Go on, open it.” He nods to the box and you feel a strange rush of excitement. It was clearly a jewellery box, and as you pull the lid up, your heart stops beating entirely in your chest.
You stare down at the two golden rings, unable to process or think for several moments as you stare at them.
“I… They’re not the rings… I couldn’t find them but… I should never have pawned them in the first place… and I just wanted you to have them back in some way.” Bucky speaks softly, and you finally tear your eyes away from the bands to stare at him instead, your mouth still unable to form coherent words.
“I—” You swallow thickly, blinking back tears that you refuse to let him see.
“Thank you.” You manage, clearing your throat, and shutting the lid of the box again. Bucky watches you carefully, and then with a few short steps, leans close to press a gentle kiss to your cheek.
“I’m sorry, Vivi.” He says, but all you can bring yourself to do is nod.
He doesn’t linger, bidding you goodnight quickly, and you’re left alone, standing with the ring box clutched tightly in your hands.
You decide then, that you never want to hear him apologise again.
—-
You return to New York in the new year, and things once again settle back into their normal place. You take on a new project for Marinelli, helping set up a new casino to funnel money through and by the time opening night rolls around, you’re rather excited about the whole thing.
Downstairs, patrons are only just beginning to enter, but up in the office, you watch Don Marinelli pop open a bottle of champagne, pouring four glasses. He offers the first to you, and you take it gratefully, watching Steve and Bucky take their own as you all toast.
“Well, I’d say you’ve done a fine job, Miss Salvati. The floor looks classy, and the furnishings are only that what a woman could pick. Well done.” You duck your head gracefully and sip your drink.
“Thank you, Don. It has been a pleasure.” And it had. Dealing in work that was mostly legitimate had been nice for once.
“I hope so. Otherwise you’ll hate me.”
You frown at that and shoot Bucky a questioning glance.
“I’m putting you in charge.” Marinelli says, and you freeze.
You? In charge of the casino?! You’d been under the impression you were simply organising it’s decor and opening party, not that you would be managing the establishment!
“I—”
“—Of course Steve will help you settle in for the next little while, until you learn the ropes. But I don’t doubt you’ll make me lots of money.”
You look between all the men in the room, and you see the momentary surprise on Bucky’s face for a second before he schools it.
“Thank you sir! I won’t let you down!” You let the older man pull you in, kissing both of each other’s cheeks, before he downs the rest of his glass.
“Come Steve, let’s join the rabble, shall we?” Marinelli beckons Steve out of the office, and after a quick congratulatory kiss on the cheek from the blond, he follows his boss out the door, closing it behind him.
You look around the manager's office, realising now that all this was yours, and you too down the rest of your glass.
“I… I can’t believe it…” You mutter, turning to face where Bucky stands, a small smile pulled across his cheeks. He shrugs.
“Marinelli has always liked you.”
“You didn’t know?”
“No clue.” You turn back around to inspect the furnishings you’d put there, and in a moment of girlish excitement, you round the desk and take a seat.
Bucky watches you, amusement clear on his features, and he places his champagne down, stepping around the large, ornate desk.
“Congratulations, sweetheart.” He says softly, and you can’t even help yourself from shooting him a grin as you stand once more, now rearranging a few things to how you’d like them. Bucky steps beside you, and you pause when he covers your hand on a paperweight with his own, stopping you to turn you around.
Nervousness overcomes you then, as he steps even closer, backing you against the desk.
“We should… join the party…” You begin, but his hand is already trailing down to the front of your dress, and you follow the movement with your eyes as he begins to gather the fabric up, your breath hitching when he drops to his knees.
You don’t need encouragement to wiggle back onto the desk slightly, widening your thighs as he slips between them, one finger pulling your panties to the side as he leans in.
“Party’s right here as far as I’m concerned…”
You bury your hand in his hair as the first flicks of his tongue over your folds make you gasp, tightening your grip when he nestles in closer, lips working you over quickly.
You shake in his hold as he licks over you like a man starved, covering your mouth with your free hand as you begin to twitch under him.
“Buck! Don’t stop!” You warn pointlessly, feeling how he focuses his mouth around your clit sucking and running his tongue over it in motions until you’re crying out, gripping his hair harshly as your hips tremble against his face.
When he pulls back, he looks proud, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe over his mouth and chin with. You attempt to get your breathing under control, but only a second later, he’s leaning in, kissing you open mouthed, your taste still on his tongue. You’re prepared to climb further back on your desk, and let him fuck you when a knock at your offcie door startles you apart.
“What is it?” Bucky calls out, annoyed, and there’s a pause before the answer comes.
“There’s a situation at the door!” The reply comes through and you and Bucky both share a look.
You fix yourselves quickly, and seeing as this was your club now, you follow Bucky out through the throngs of happy customers, to the main entrance. You can see Steve already out front, his shoulders squared, and you’re only stepping around him, about to ask what the issue is when a deafening bang echoes out. The first is followed by several more, but you don’t have a mind to keep count, somebody’s arm around your middle dragging you to the pavement, a heavy body almost crushing you as people gasp and scream.
The gunshots stop and as you orient yourself, you see a man run down the street, before he ducks inside a dark car, Steve and some others chasing after him. You shift under the weight of the body on top of you and find Sam pulling himself up. You blink up at him in slight shock, even as Bucky makes his presence known.
“Baby? Baby are you alright?!” He’s got his hand on your face, his eyes running over your body and you nod, dazed.
“I’m— I’m fine— What—” He looks away, up at Sam, and you stop speaking.
“He was shooting at her!” He stresses, and the dark-skinned man nods, his eyes scanning the crowds as several other men begin to placate the people outside, promising free drinks as an apology. Bucky’s eyes swing back to you.
“I’ll find them, I swear to god.” He promises, and all you can do is nod as you’re gently helped to your feet.
After a short meeting with Marinelli and some others up in your office, Bucky holding his arm around you the whole time, you have Sam drive you home. All you wanted to do now was see your baby and forget all about your soured night.
Before you leave, Bucky kisses your forehead and once more promises to find the person responsible.
You go home and cry, and then when you’ve calmed down enough, you crawl into Ale’s bed, and hold him until you fall asleep.
You don’t see or hear from Bucky for several days, in which time you begin to worry. It isn’t until almost a week later you receive news that the gunman was found, and the boys were ‘seeing to him’ now. Relief fills your body at that, and even though you somewhat pity the man for what you know he’s likely to endure, you push all thoughts from your mind and go about your day as normally as you can.
You send word to Bucky’s home that he should come for dinner, but you get no reply, and tea time comes and goes without his appearance.
He doesn’t show up for another day, and when he does it’s almost three in the morning.
The loud knocking on your door is annoying enough, let alone when you pull it open to find a bleary-eyed, drunk Bucky, whiskey bottle still in hand. Your whole body tenses up and for a moment you think you’ve travelled back seven years, when he’d come home at all hours of the morning, drunk, sometimes beat up.
But something strikes you as different this time and you realise, when he chokes back a breath, that he’s crying.
“Bucky?”
“M’sorry.” He says, falling forwards, his arm thrown around your neck, and you barely have time to catch him, steadying him against you awkwardly.
“Bucky?!” Your voice is more panicked this time, but he only sobs into your shoulder.
“You could have died.” He rasps, and you feel some understanding settle over you.
You manage to pull back enough to look at his face, and take it in both your hands.
“I didn’t, I’m alright, see?” He half nods, but scrunches his eyes shut again as his breathing gets shallower and shallower, and you aren’t entirely sure if he’s actually taking in air anymore.
“Bucky? James, breathe! You need to breathe!” His knees seem to give out under him as the panic attack takes over, and you aren’t strong enough to hold him up, so you simply move with him to your foyer floor, taking a moment to shut your door behind him.
“Buck, come here, look at me, okay? I need you to breathe baby, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.” You hold his face again, and coo clamingly as he holds onto the front of your nightgown with one hand. When his eyes do open, he looks around wildly, and he seems distant.
“Viv?” He gasps, and you nod.
“Viv, I can’t— I can’t feel my arm!” He chokes out, panic and confusion in his voice and you realise that he’s not with you right now. He’s in Europe somewhere, bleeding and scared. He continues to ramble about his arm, calling for a medic, for any kind of help, and all you can do is hold him until he calms some, breathing heavily against your chest. You don’t realise you’ve been crying until you get him to follow you into your bathroom, and see yourself in the mirror briefly before you start the water.
Bucky doesn’t let you go, but you don’t plan on going far as he sits in the bath, his eyes empty and red, like he wasn’t there at all anymore. You wash him with hot water, dress him again, and put him to bed, lying close, stroking his hair gently as his breathing softens out.
You don’t sleep.
You let Bucky sleep in the next morning while you ready Ale for school, trying not to let visions of the night before haunt you, but you find yourself thinking back to Bucky’s harrowed calls for a medic, how his eyes seemed vacant except for when they seemed scared.
You’re relieved to find them back to normal by the time you return home, discovering Bucky in your kitchen. He straightens and lowers the coffee from his lips as you pause in the kitchen doorway, and for a moment you just blink at each other.
He’d redressed himself in last night’s clothes, and you can see now in the light of day, a few specks of blood on the sleeves.
“I— sorry, I… I just woke up.” You stare at him carefully, but he must mistake your expression for disdain because he sets down his coffee cup and clears his throat, avoiding your gaze.
“I’ll just go. I’m sorry—”
“—Bucky.” You cut him off sharply, and he snaps his eyes toward you.
You’d been thinking long and hard, all night, and you’d really only come to one conclusion after last night’s events.
“I don’t think you should be living alone.” You say, and you watch his face filter through confusion, into a frown.
“What?”
“I don’t think you should be living alone. If last night is anything to go by.” You turn your nose up a little at the end, but only because recognition and understanding flash over his face, and his frown disappears.
“Is that so?” It’s not challenging, in fact you can’t really read his tone at all and you cross your arms over your chest.
“You aren’t well, clearly.”
“Clearly.” He nods, carefully picking up his coffee cup again and you nod, lifting your nose again.
“Good. Now that’s decided, you should organise to move your things.” And with your heart beating quicker than you’d like to admit, you turn on your heel and leave him in the kitchen.
Within the week, Bucky’s moving his things into your house.
Ale had been ecstatic when you’d told him, and hadn’t stopped bouncing for days.
Bucky hasn’t stopped bouncing either, though a little more subtly. He helps his guys carry any furniture he’d wanted, inside your place, and after a long day of back and forth, he’s ready for a long shower and a meal with his family.
“Bucky?” Your voice startled him from stretching his back, and he turns to find you poking your head through the doorway.
“Dinner soon. Clean up.” You tell him, only half rolling your eyes when he straightens and salutes you.
He finds himself climbing slowly up the stairs to the second floor, gratefully taking in the details of your home. He’d had nice furniture and such in his house too, but there was something about a space that had been filled with love, not just things.
On the second floor landing he passes Ale’s room, and smiles to himself at how close he’ll be now. Right there, just two or three doors down…
Bucky keeps moving, exhaustion setting into his bones now as he pushes open the door of the guest room and steps inside, ready to find his towel and get to washing up. Only, the second he lifts his eyes to scab the space, he pauses.
Where were his things?
He knows his clothing and such had arrived earlier, because you’d told him yourself that you’d put it away in the room upstairs. One check inside the cupboard tells him this room is empty. Confusion colouring his gaze, Bucky steps back out and looks toward the stairs.
“Vivi?” He calls out when he’s close enough.
“Where did you put my things?” There's a slight pause before your answer comes.
“Upstairs!” Bucky frowns and looks back toward the guest room, and then, almost hesitantly, to the steps that lead to the third floor.
“Upstairs?” He confirms, and you hum a confirmation back.
Stepping quietly toward the second flight, Bucky knows he’s probably reaching, but as it is, he really wants that shower, and it wouldn’t hurt to check off the only other upstairs bedroom, your room.
Climbing the stairs with soft footsteps, a nervousness sets upon him when he stands outside the only door on the floor.
Swallowing thickly, he turns the handle and lets the wood fall open of its own accord, as he waits in the doorway, watching.
Your room is warm and cozy looking, a vanity to one side, an en-suite bathroom to the left. Your bed is a four poster, with rich coloured fabrics that look soft to the touch, and—
Bucky sucks in air, and his feet carry him forward of his own accord. There’s things laid on the bed, obscure from the doorway, but as he nears he takes it all in. Clothes, his clothes, laying ready for him to change, a folded towel and washcloth sitting atop them. In minor disbelief, he looks around the room, waiting for someone to jump out and tell him he’s been duped, but all he can hear is the faint sounds of movement from the lower floors.
He can’t help it, Bucky’s lips twitch and pull up in the corners, and with a brand new kind of relief settling in his chest, he reaches out and takes the towels.
He’s already kicking his shoes off when something else catches his eyes. Frowning down at the small box that had been under the towel, but atop his clothes, Bucky shifts his things under his arm, and then reaches out to gingerly collect up the box. Blinking at it, and with no real clue what it was, he snaps the lid open, and stares.
—-
You’ve just finished setting the table when Bucky enters the dining room, fresh and clean and dressed in the clothes you’d set out for him.
“Ale, come sit down!” You call, transferring a dish from the oven to the table, just as your son skitters out from underneath the table.
“Daddy! Can you sit next to me!?” Ale begs, tugging on Bucky’s hand.
“Of course! Where else would I sit, pal?”
You pitter about with some other things as Ale takes his seat, waiting for everyone to be settled before you turn back around, along to find that when you do, Bucky is still stood waiting, your chair pulled out.
“Thank you.” You say softly, placing the butter down, before letting him guide your seat under your. Bucky takes the place you’d set for him at the top of the table, between yourself and Ale, and smiles.
“Smells amazing.” He nods, and you open your mouth to reply, but are cut off.
“Let’s say grace!” Ale announces, holding his hands out for you and Bucky to take.
“Good idea, pal.” Carefully, you reach across the space between you to take your son's hand in your own, and lift your other to find Bucky already holding out his other, waiting for you once again.
The light glints of the gold on his finger, and when you place your hand in his, your rings clink against one another in the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard.
Bucky smiles.
“Bless this meal, this house, and this family.”
#mob boss!bucky#bucky barnes/reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes/you#bucky barnes/yn#bucky barnes x yn#mafia!bucky
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The Eye of the Hurricane [17] - Disagreements
A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️
Summary: Petty fights can start out of nowhere.
Word Count: 2800
Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Violence, stabbing, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.
Series Masterlist
Waking up and not finding Bucky in bed next to you wasn’t unfamiliar to you.
He always woke up before you, but this was the first time you were hearing a second, very familiar voice booming through the house and you sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes.
What on earth was your father doing in your apartment this early on in the morning?
You pushed the covers off of you and looked around the room for Alpine but she wasn’t there either. Grabbing the first thing you found -which turned out to be one of Bucky’s crisp white button up shirts- you pulled it over your tank top and shorts, then went downstairs, following the voices.
“If this has been your plan all along,” your father’s stern voice reached your ear from Bucky’s office, “I swear to God—”
“I don’t have any plans,” Bucky’s much calmer voice replied and you pulled your brows together, approaching the doorframe but still shielding yourself from their gaze. Alpine meowed when she saw you, running to you but neither of them seemed to notice it.
“No?” your father asked. “So this is not some sort of elaborate plot to take over my territory?”
“Not at all.”
“Then why was she having a briefing with Rogers?”
“Because I don’t think my wife should be kept out of the business entirely,” Bucky said as you bent down to scratch at Alpine’s head before straightening your back again. “It’s the new generation, we do things differently now.”
Your father let out a furious breath.
“Listen,” he said. “I don’t care what you do with your own business, but if you’re putting ideas into my daughter’s head—”
“Arthur, she’s smart as fuck, you do realize that?” Bucky snapped, making you smirk. “There’s no idea I can put into her head that she hasn’t thought about to begin with.”
“Not to mention,” you said and stepped into the office, making both of them turn to look at you. “She has a phone. So if you wanted to see me, you could just let me know.”
Your father gritted his teeth and stole a look at Bucky. “Give us a minute.”
If it were anyone else, you were sure they would be hurrying off to the door because you had seen your father intimidate countless men throughout your life, but Bucky didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest as he leaned back to his desk.
“This is my house,” he replied, making your father blink a couple of times.
“And I’d like a moment alone with my daughter.”
Bucky turned to look at you as if silently asking if you wanted him to leave and you shook your head, then crossed your arms.
“Anything you want to say, you can say it in front of my husband,” you told him, making Bucky grin proudly. “So?”
Your father’s glare at you was enough to make the sudden chill of nervousness shoot through you, but you didn’t let it show on your face as he shook his head.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Nothing,” you said. “I literally woke up to you guys’ yelling to be honest—”
“Having a meeting with Rogers,” he cut you off impatiently as if he didn’t have the time for your jokes. “What is that about?”
You let a smirk pull your lips.
“Did Ian come and cry to you about it?” you asked. “Honestly.”
“He did let me know, yes,” he said. “As he was supposed to. Seeing that you weren’t planning on telling me about it, I’m glad he did.”
“You have your messenger boy there already,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “It’s clear you don’t need me to tell you anything.”
He took a deep breath like he was trying his hardest to stay calm and you stole a look at Bucky who gave you an assuring smile, watching you two.
“Sweetheart,” he said, the slight condescending tone in his voice making you clench your jaw. “I know that you want to be a part of the business, and Bucky is for some reason fueling this nonsense, but—”
“He’s not fueling anything,” you growled. “I happen to have my own mind, unlike what you seem to think.”
“Y/N—”
“I mean who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”
“Okay!” Bucky cut you two off before your father could answer. “Can I suggest we all calm down before anyone says anything they might regret?”
Both you and your father looked at him before turning to glare at each other again and your father pursed his lips, heaving a sigh.
“I’m not trying to patronize you,” he said and you raised your brows.
“Might be too late for that.”
“But I need you to be safe,” he said, making Bucky frown for the first time. “And becoming a part of the business…”
“To repeat, I can make my own decisions.”
“I’m not putting her in danger, Arthur,” Bucky said, his voice calm despite the stern expression on his face. “You know I would never.”
“Right,” your father scoffed and gave you a warning look. “Y/N, I mean it. What you’re trying to do—”
“What makes you think I’m trying to do anything?”
“Because I wrote the playbook you’re following,” your father replied. “I taught you every single trick, and now you’re going to turn around and treat me like I’m clueless?”
You clicked your tongue, tilting your head.
“I’m not doing anything that you haven’t been doing with me for years now,” you said. “You pushed me out of the picture, you’ve been treating me with kid gloves and you have the audacity to give me that speech right now?”
He ran a hand over his face.
“I’m only doing what your mother would like, for you.”
You let out a breath, crossing your arms over your chest.
“No,” you said. “You’re doing what you would like, for me. And I’m done letting you.”
You could see a muscle in his jaw ticking as he glared at you for a couple of seconds, then took a deep breath.
“We will talk later when you’re calmer,” he said and stormed out of the office before you heard the front door slam. You rolled your eyes and turned to Bucky who gave you a tight-lipped smile.
“Good morning,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“Are you?” you asked back and Bucky waved a hand in the air.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Hungry though. Breakfast?”
You huffed out a laugh and nodded your head.
“Yes please,” you said. “Jesus, what a morning.”
*
It wasn’t that you kept the fact that you were meeting Ethan this afternoon a secret, it was just that you didn’t think Bucky needed to know about it. This marriage was fake yes, and it wasn’t like you were having a secret affair meeting, you two were just friends and it was a normal gather up with your friend.
Or at least, that’s what you had been trying to convince yourself of the whole morning.
You drummed your fingernails on the table and reached out to grab your cup to take a sip of your latte, but lowered it when the wind bells by the door chimed and your gaze fell on Ethan. He looked around the café, then gave you a small smile and approached you as you stood up.
“Hey,” he said, giving you a curt hug and you smiled as he pulled back, then sat down again.
“Hi,” you said. “It’s good to see you.”
“Good to see you two,” he said as he sat down and ordered a coffee. “How have you been?”
“Good,” you said. “You?”
“Busy a bit. You look—” he paused for a moment when his eyes fell upon your wedding ring. “Married.”
You let out a nervous laugh and heaved a sigh.
“Mm hm.”
He pursed his lips together and took a deep breath.
“I owe you an apology,” he said, making you shake your head.
“Ethan…”
“I do,” he said. “I’m—It was stupid to say all that shit. Trust me, I wanted to text and apologize so many times, I just didn’t think you wanted to hear my voice.”
You rolled your eyes at him in a lighthearted manner.
“Ethan, you happen to be the only person in my life who’s not…” you trailed off and he gave you a small smile.
“Who’s not following the same career path?”
You clicked your tongue. “That’s one way to put it,” you said, making him chuckle. “So yeah, I reacted badly as well. I was very tense when we had that conversation.”
He offered his hand. “Truce then?”
You scoffed a laugh, then reached out to shake his hand.
“Everyone knows I’m a big fan of truce,” you said and he grinned, then thanked the waitress when she brought his coffee.
“So,” he said after taking a sip of his coffee. “How is it then? Do guns go off when you and Barnes enter the building or…?”
You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “Ethan.”
“Do you guys do that Mr. and Mrs. Smith shit?”
“Wrong movie reference.”
He held up his hands, gesturing surrender.
“Does he still dislike me?”
The correct and honest answer would be that Bucky didn’t even think about Ethan, at least in your opinion. Not only did he have bigger problems what with HYDRA and their attacks in the city, his dynamic with the other bosses were bound to get tense with you officially becoming a part of the business.
So, he was probably too busy to sit around and think about Ethan.
“Nah I don’t think so,” you managed to say, leaning back. “That night at the club, I know he was an asshole but we were…things were weird between us then.”
“I’d say so,” he said, and licked his lips. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” you said. “As long as I can answer it hypothetically, that is.”
“Is it real?”
That managed to make you pull back slightly and you blinked a couple of times before heaving a sigh.
“I don’t understand what you—”
“Because I’d like to think that we had something, back at college,” he said, making your brows furrow. “And that night at the club, you weren’t looking at him like…I could’ve sworn you hated him, Y/N.”
“Like I said, things were weird between us then,” you muttered, turning the coffee cup in this saucer and he shook his head.
“And it changed that fast?” he asked. “Listen, I’m going to shut up if you don’t want me to talk about this, but if it’s not real—”
“If it’s not real, you’ll save me?” you asked with a scoff. “I’m not some princess in a castle Ethan.”
“Trust me, I’m well aware.”
“Hypothetically, even if it weren’t—”
“Hypothetically,” he cut you off. “I’d happily wait for your divorce.”
That made you stop talking as your eyes snapped up to his and you gawked at him in a dumbfounded silence.
Ah.
Alright, this was…
The idea was quite lovely, to be honest. As you had told Becca, being with Ethan would be so simple, he was a civilian so there would be no ulterior motives or plotting or any of the tension you knew each and every couple in business had. Not only that, but Bucky had broken your heart so terribly all those years ago and you were sure that if you decided to see or treat this marriage like a real marriage, he would do it again.
Unlike Ethan.
Dear God, it would be so peaceful.
But you knew you couldn’t deal with whatever this was when you were going for your father’s crown. This right here was a distraction, and you couldn’t entertain the idea of a distraction.
You clicked your tongue and sat up straighter, checking the time.
“Sorry, I just remembered I had this thing,” you muttered, desperate to get away and he stood up as you did.
“Y/N,” he said apologetically. “I’m sorry if that sounded—”
“No no,” you said with a shake of your head. “I don’t…I get what you mean, I really do. And as much as I know you mean well, saying this now is very disrespectful to Bucky so I’d rather if we didn’t speak about this again.”
He pursed his lips and nodded his head.
“Understood,” he said. “I won’t, I promise.”
“I’ll see you later, okay?” you asked and gave him a short hug, then walked out of the café, your heart beating fast.
“What the fuck was that?” you muttered to yourself as you got into your car and let out a breath, then started driving.
*
As you walked into the Barnes skyscraper, you were still trying to comprehend just why the hell, out of all things to say to Ethan, you had chosen ‘disrespect to Bucky’ as your answer. What Ethan had said wasn’t even so bad, you had been reminding Bucky that you two would eventually get a divorce and even talk about all the things you’d do on your second wedding and marriage to someone else, but when Ethan so much as mentioned waiting for your divorce, you had decided to draw the line?
This was rather absurd.
You rolled your shoulders back as someone escorted you to the elevator and pressed the button for you and you checked your reflection in the mirror until you got to the top floor and the doors opened.
“I can find my way, thank you,” you said told the bodyguard and walked out of the elevator to make your way to Bucky’s office.
“Is he in?” you asked the receptionist who stood up when she saw you.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Great, thank you,” you said and knocked on the door, then opened it to step inside. Bucky was sitting behind his desk, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on the computer screen, but he turned his head when he saw you and raised his brows.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” you said and approached the couch to fling yourself on it, crossing your legs. “So my father didn’t call me after this morning, has George called you?”
“No.”
The curt answer made you tilt your head and you frowned at him.
“Have you heard from anyone else?” you asked. “Because I feel like—”
“How was lunch with Ethan?”
That made you stop talking and you raised your brows, your stomach doing a flip.
“Are you having me followed?” you asked sharply through your teeth and he let out a bitter chuckle.
“I don’t need to have you followed,” he said. “You met the guy in my territory in case you forgot.”
You licked your lips, crossing your arms defiantly.
“So what, am I supposed to report back to you every single thing I do now?”
“I think I’d like to know if you’re meeting your ex -who by the way, still wants to fuck you- like a week after our wedding, yeah,” he shot back, making your jaw drop.
“Easy there, cowboy.”
“Y/N we had an agreement—”
“Does it look like I’m sleeping with him from where you’re sitting?” you asked. “I know the agreement. You don’t sleep with anyone else and neither do I, until our divorce.”
“Then?”
“Then I can have lunch with whoever I want.”
“To repeat, he wants to—”
“It was a friendly lunch and he just apologized for reacted badly when I told him we would be getting married,” you defended yourself hurriedly, knowingly leaving out the part Ethan said about your potential divorce and Bucky rolled his eyes.
“Oh I wonder why he reacted badly to us getting married,” he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “What could it be? Any ideas?”
God damn it.
“This is not even a real marriage,” you hissed as you leaned in, careful not to speak too loud in case anyone outside could hear. “Or did you forget about that part?”
“Did you forget about the part we’re supposed to act madly in love?” he asked back, his voice calm unlike yours and even though he did have a point, the petulant part of you refused to acknowledge it, so you did the first thing you thought of and got up from the couch.
“I’m done talking about this.”
“Y/N.”
“I’m done I said!” you snapped over your shoulder and walked out of the office without looking back, making your way to the elevator. Your heart was beating in your ears and you grabbed your phone, and touched Becca’s name as the doors closed, the elevator moving.
“Hey,” Becca’s voice reached you. “What’s up?”
“I snapped at Ethan for disrespecting Bucky and then snapped at Bucky within the same hour,” you said and she paused for a moment, then hummed.
“I’m getting the wine ready,” she said. “Grab some sushi on your way here?”
“You got it,” you said and hung up the phone, then leaned your head back to the elevator wall. “What the actual fuck am I doing?”
Chapter 18
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#mob!bucky barnes#mob!bucky#mob!bucky x reader#mob! bucky#mafia!bucky barnes x reader#mafia!bucky barnes#mafia!bucky#mafia bucky barnes#mafia bucky x reader#mob bucky barnes x reader#mob bucky barnes#mob bucky x reader#mob bucky#mob boss!bucky#mob boss bucky barnes#mob au#mob!au
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The Sinner and the Saint Ch 10
*GIF for vibes only, not a depiction of reader's appearance*
Pairing: Mob!Boss Bucky x f!reader
A/N: Here we go :)
Warnings: NSFW, f!reader, language, reader is referred to by her stage name of Angel, reader is insecure, addiction references (reader feels addicted to Bucky, no drugs), SMUT, p in v, unprotected (glove before love people), creampie, p*ssy worship, foreplay, begging, teasing, one soft sp@nk, dom Bucky/sub reader dynamic and talk, Bucky is larger than reader, slight size kink, slight possessive behavior
YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. MINORS DNI. THIS IS AN 18+ STORY ONLY AND IS NSFW. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR ANY OF MY WORKS TO BE COPIED, REPRINTED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY PLATFORM EXCEPT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs deeply appreciated.
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
“Would you like to come home with me tonight?”
All breath exited your body. And all sense as well.
Well, almost.
One tiny corner of your brain screamed at you that you'd only know this man's real name for a little over an hour, that you'd really only known him for a week, and that he was a GODDAMN MAFIA DON. But your addiction to Bucky Barnes was screaming much, much louder. You tried to keep your cool and your composure as you casually took a sip of your wine.
"Are you looking to do a scene tonight?" you asked, your thighs pressing together at the mere mention of it. Bucky smiled that sinfully seductive smile back at you.
"No," he said softly. You felt a fleeting stab of disappointment, which of course showed on your face. He grinned at you. "Let me rephrase. I want to do anything and everything with you and to you. You have NO fucking clue. We will do scenes, but that's later. Right now, tonight...I just want you. Just you and me. No set ups, no scenarios, no accessories. Only you and me tonight."
You were so turned on by his erotic and intimate request that you couldn't help but shift a bit in your chair. His grin widened devilishly, and you thrust your chin in the air, trying to prove that you weren't as instantly readable as he seemed to think you were. "You and me only. I think that can be arranged," you said smoothly, patting yourself on the back for your chill.
Bucky snorted a low laugh, making you panic for a second. Had he been teasing you, just to let you down? But he leaned forward, clasping his hands together and looking you dead in the eye with that wicked smile. "Cut the Cool Hand Luke act," he teased gently. "What is it you really want to say to me?"
Well. Fine. Fuck that then. He asked.
You hurtled yourself off your chair and practically threw yourself into his lap, grasping his head in between your hands and smashing your mouth onto his. The second your lips connected, that absolute thrill shot through your veins like electricity again, feeding the burning, sparkling desire you felt for him. You moaned into his mouth as the feel of his lips both soothed and exacerbated every nerve in your body, setting you on fire.
He responded quickly after a second of freezing, surprised by your amorous onslaught, wrapping his right hand around you and pulling you in tightly to his chest while his left hand slid up your back and into your hair. He pulled you impossibly closer to him as your arms wound around his neck. The push and pull of your mouths was sinfully delicious. And then he opened his mouth and slipped his tongue between your lips.
With another soft exhaled exclamation, you gave him full access to explore, which he greedily took advantage of. The feel of his warm, wet tongue slipping in and out and all around made you desperately aware of your arousal downstairs. You couldn't help the needy whine that escaped. You felt his lips curve up, then he pulled away for a moment, causing you to exhaled in horny frustration. He smirked that damn challenging smirk of his at your impatience.
"Did you get enough to eat?" Bucky asked you. What the fuck?! You shared one of the deepest, most passionate kisses of your life and THAT'S what he stopped it to ask?! Instead of answering, you moved to press your lips back to his. He jerked back and gave you a soft spank instead, a look of warning on his face. That made you stop immediately, staring at him doe-eyed, your arms still around his neck.
"Uh uh," he admonished quietly. "Answer the question, now." You took a deep breath and gulped.
"Yes, sir," you said, before squirming again, unable to keep the neediness out of your voice as you felt his significant arousal as well. You needed another hit of your Bucky drug, knowing how turned on he was too, but somehow instinctively knew better than to challenge that look. You felt the thrill zip through him as you called him 'sir', but he wasn't quite ready to give in just yet. He obviously had more self control than you, the bastard.
He raised an eyebrow at you. "Really?" he asked, giving you that look again, wanting a more satisfying answer. So you took another breath to rein your roaring libido in, looking behind you at your empty plate and half drunk wine. You reached across the table impatiently, snatched the glass, and drank in down in one. You felt more than saw his grin get wider and wider as you chugged. You slammed the glass down on the table and turned back to him, the look in your eye now wild.
"Really," you deadpanned back. He laughed in the back of his throat.
"Little brat," he teased affectionally, then his grin got wider when you gave him your own cheeky smile back. "Seems like you needed a little touch of the Dom tonight after all." He laughed again as you attacked his lips with a feral growl, then met you with the same enthusiasm.
You didn't entirely remember how you got back to the car, as Bucky half carried you through a back door exit, his lips never leaving yours. You suddenly realized you were outside only because of the abrupt temperature change. You heard a car door, and only opened your eyes because Bucky set you down.
"In," he commanded, his voice rough with lust. You scrambled in immediately and he followed, slamming the door shut and reaching for you again in the same fluid movement. "Home," he barked at Steve, before jamming his finger on button to slide the privacy divider between the front and back seat up. Before the divider was even halfway up, Bucky put his hand behind your head and dove into your mouth with his tongue again.
Panicking slightly, your eyes shot to the rearview mirror. Now that you knew Steve was Bucky's oldest and best friend, what did he think of you agreeing to go home with his buddy? Were you good enough for him? For his boss, the gangster?? Were you making a very dangerous man mad? But you caught the tiniest eye crinkle in the mirror right before it disappeared, that made you realize Steve was smiling, even if just a little bit.
And, to be honest, the next second that Bucky's tongue swept the roof of your mouth, you forgot what you had even been worried about.
You were so caught up in the spell that was Bucky Barnes, that squealed in surprise into Bucky's mouth when he suddenly yanked you sideways in your seat and out the door. You came to your senses enough to realize you were in a huge, cavernous garage, before Bucky literally hoisted you into his arms and started walking, carrying you like a koala. You didn't give a shit. You only wanted him and couldn't be bothered to think of anything else.
Before you knew it, you found yourself on your feet. You looked around and gasped in surprise. You were in his fucking bedroom.
The furniture in the room was all a rich, deep cherry color, all looking incredibly expensive and well cared for. The fabrics in the room were black with silver details, but every now and then a surprising pop of a soft dark purple color combined with the mahogany wood made it all feel warm and inviting, but slightly dangerous- a room worthy of a mafia king. The bed was huge, with a mahogany headboard woven with a black wrought iron detailing grate inlaid on it.
It suddenly hit home where you were. And what was about to happen. You took a deep breath, but a combination of nerves and anxiety smacked you back to reality all at once. And then Bucky put his hands on either side of your face and turned your gaze back to him.
The slow burn through your blood as you sank into his touch drove out everything else. He gently kissed your lips, leaning down over you possessively. Your hands grasped his sides, pulling yourself into him. His arousal was now more prominent than ever, making you feel like a fucking goddess.
"I've watched you take your clothes off for the last week," he said in a seductive tone. "You have no idea how jealous I've been...of you getting to do that. Now it's finally my turn."
He reached down, pulling on the silk wrap tie at your waist. He apparently understood how the dress worked, because as he slid his hand inside for the interior tie he also leaned down, pressing his lips softly to the crook of your neck. It felt so sinfully divine that your head tilted back and you let out a soft moan. You felt his lips curve up against your sin.
"Mmmm, you're so responsive," he murmured, tugging the tie open. "I'm gonna have fun with that." Once the tie came loose, he stood back up, slowly pushing the silk dress off your shoulders. It flowed down your arms in a fluttery wave to the floor. He stepped back and sharply inhaled as he took in your lingerie.
You were wearing a black silk plunge bra, and a matching black silk thong with the tiniest hint of purple lace trim. He growled in appreciation and went into remove them. You reciprocated by reaching for his shirt buttons (You didn't remember him losing his jacket, but fuck it, one less layer to deal with). The first time he felt your fingers on the button, he instantly snatched your wrists, holding them tight.
"Tsk tsk tsk," he said playfully, making you smirk. "Did I tell you you could do that?"
Since this wasn't a scene and you weren't sure you'd ever be able to get away with this again, you turned on the puppy dog eyes and gave him your biggest exaggerated pleading pout. He took one look at your face, and his entire demeanor changed to soft. Then he scowled.
"Goddammit, that's gonna be dangerous," he muttered, making you giggle as he yanked his cuffs open. You took that as permission to keep going, hurriedly undoing the buttons but trying to be cool. The more skin you revealed, the less cool you got, until finally you yanked his shirt tails out of his pants and over his shoulders. You exhaled as you took in his sculpted torso. There was no body hair save a fine line down beneath his waistline, but a plethora of scars. For some reason, the thrill of him zipped through you again, just looking at them. You wanted to run your fingers across every single one of them, but you wanted something else even more now.
You both grew frenzied, him reaching for your bra and you reaching for his zipper, your lips locking as you fervently raced to unclothe each other. Once the last garment dropped, you both stepped away as if on cue and looked at each other.
His blue eyes were glowing with a carnal appreciation and lust as he saw you, fully undressed, for the first time. You noted how his gaze lingered on you lower abdomen, your breasts, your neck. He'd seen almost all of that before at the club, but now it was complete and all only for him. You looked him over yourself, appreciating the fine specimen of abs, the cut hip bones, and his...
"Oh my god," you breathed out.
He grinned devilishly. "I'll take that as a compliment."
He moved towards you, his cock at full attention, and pulled you into him again, slotting his tongue into your mouth. The feeling of skin on skin was indescribable, sending you into a lusty haze. You ran your hands up his back, feeling more scars, but feeling HIM. You could feel the warm, velvety flesh under your fingers and the moving muscles of his back. You felt more high than you'd ever been in your life.
He moved you closer to the bed, only pausing from kissing you to rip the covers back. You were surprised by the dark purple silk sheets. Somehow you'd managed to color coordinate with his bedroom.
Score one for you.
He gently laid you down on the bed, then positioned himself on your left, running his right hand up your arm, subtly moving you so that your hands went above your head. You were completely under his spell, moving exactly how he wanted you to with only the slightest nudging on his part. Nuzzling to your side, one of his legs thrown over and trapping both of yours, you felt his impressive manhood pressing into your hip, and without realizing it, you turned your whole body towards it, letting out a small whine of need. He let out an exhale of satisfaction as his right hand subtly took a hold of both of your wrists over your head, pinning them gently down.
"So gorgeous, my perfect Angel," he whispered hoarsely. He took his time, tracing the fingers of his left hand down your body, noting its response to the metal. It was shockingly warm yet electrifying. You were insanely aware of where those fingers were. You bit your lip to try to keep your moans inside, but he attacked your mouth with his the moment he saw that.
"Mm-mm," he scolded in his throat as he kept up his fiery assault on your lips. He broke away, leaving you gasping for air and for him. "Don't hold back. I want to hear every sound I pull out of your body. This room is sound-proofed; no one other than me will hear you. I want every single sound- only for me. You understand me?"
"Yes, sir."
"Mmmmm ESPECIALLY that sound," he growled, before he began kissing down your body again, causing you to arch and bow and moan like you'd never done before. He ran his fingers along every part of you, taking his time, usually finishing with a kiss before he moved onto the next section. "Someday," he murmured against the soft skin under your right breast, his body draped over and touching yours, "I will have every inch of you in my mouth."
You groaned as those words stoked the blazing fire of need centering between your legs. You felt your pussy twitch as that mental image of having every part of your body in his talented mouth invaded your mind. Bucky smiled and licked a line under your breast, right where his lips had just been. You nearly screamed at the incredible feeling, your back arching involuntarily. "But I don't have the patience for that right now, not when I need you so badly," he whispered against your left nipple. Your eyes closed as your back bowed again.
"Bucky, please," you managed to gasp out. "Need you too."
"Do you now?"
"Yes, please! Please!"
"So pretty when you beg for me, Angel. Begging to be made a sinner."
"Bucky, please, please..."
Bucky moved his lips to your left ear. "I'm right here, baby," he whispered. Your entire body instantly went limp, reacting to the warmth and the sensuality of it. You felt his right hand let your wrists go, and him move to the end of the bed. Your eyes opened to find him kneeling at your feet, looking down on you like a predator, his huge dick fully at attention.
"Open yourself to me," he whispered. "I want to see you." His eyes dragged from your ankles to your core, where your thighs were pressed together.
A fear shot through you at his insanely intimate request. Why was he asking this? What if he didn't like what he saw? A lot of guys didn't want to look at a pussy, only pound into it. And could you actually bring yourself to spread your legs and let him...just look? And then he broke out his own secret weapon.
"Please," he whispered hoarsely. You couldn't resist it. There was no way, not when you were already hooked on him so desperately. You slid your hands down your body, stopping at the apex of your thighs, and carefully spread your legs open for him. Your eyes never left his face as he moved in closer, on his knees.
Bucky stared into your core with wonder, letting out a small exhale of delight. His eyes slid along your folds, seeing the glistening arousal there. "My god," he murmured. "You are exquisite." He reached down and gently pumped his huge cock a few times, even though there was clearly no need. He just wanted to touch himself at the sight of your beauty.
His carnal worshipping of your pussy was the most erotic thing you'd ever experienced in your life. To have this gorgeous powerful man look at the most secret part of your body and declare it exquisite was beyond anything you'd ever felt before. And he hadn't even touched it yet. You felt powerful, worshipped, and at once- pliant and ready for whatever he wanted to do to you.
With a bold move, you slipped your hand between your legs to gather up your slickness. You reached out, replacing his hand, and gave his cock a few pumps of your own. Jesus Christ it was like getting your hand on a paint roller holy FUCK. His feral growl of pleasure was enough to send a new wave of lust crashing through you.
"Touch me," he commanded you, as he positioned himself in between your legs. Your hands traced up his arms as he guided his cock to your entrance. He looked at you, just to make sure.
"Yes," you whispered back, not even recognizing your own voice in your need. He slowly sank into you, letting out a sensual moan as he did. He tried to take it slowly, letting you adjust to his size. You gasped and mewled as he took you, your hands suddenly clutching his back fervently.
"Nails," he said, and you knew what he meant. You raked your nails down his back, and he let out a guttural cry, pushing in even further, making you gasp harder.
"Fuck, you are so goddamn tight," he murmured, kissing your collarbone frantically, trying to hold himself back from plunging into you and splitting you in half. In response to that, you put your hands on his incredibly firm backside, pulling him into you even more, not giving a damn if he cracked you right down the middle because it felt so fucking GOOD.
He slid all the way in, and between that and the feeling of your bare chests touching, you nearly came on the spot. You both tried to catch your breath for a moment as you adjusted to the incredible feeling of connection. He looked deep into your eyes, and all you could do was return the wide-eyed stare of wonder, before he smiled that devilish, seductive grin.
"Let me hear you baby," he said, then began slowly thrusting. The shocked gasp and high pitched keen that you gave off at the first thrust was exactly what he wanted to hear. For your sake, he tried to move slowly, letting you feel him as he slowly stoked your desire. He drank in every sinful moan and cry from your mouth, letting it fuel his own passion.
His sensual strokes became quicker as he could feel you pulsing and tightening around him, groaning in pleasure himself. Your hands were on his back, pressing him into you, then running up his arms to his face, and pulling him in for a desperate kiss, then back down his arms as he really began pumping into you. The feeling of his lower abdomen pressing against yours, feeling the slight sprinkle of his hair moving against your smoothness, drove you absolutely insane. You pressed your hips up, meeting him thrust for thrust, holding onto his ass as he fucked you into the mattress.
You felt that slow burn, that spot of golden light between your legs grow and grow as he thrust harder and harder. The glow began to fill you, to take you over, to block out anything in the world but the two of you. The air was filled with the sounds of skin slapping on skin, the cries and moans out of the both of you, and the creaking of the bed. As it all got louder and louder, so did your passion and need for each other.
Your vision turned gold, and you just managed to get it out. "Bucky, I'm cumming, I-" before you exploded. You screamed to the heavens and all the angels, your back arching as the tremors passed through you. It went on and on, but somewhere in the midst of that you became aware that Bucky's thrusts were becoming more and more sloppy, and you felt him cum deep inside you, his warmth filling you. He cried out your name as he came, then partially collapsed on top of you, trying to make sure you were okay as you continued to press him into you, doing the same.
As you both came down from your insane high, gasping, muscles twitching, vision clearing as the moment passed, you couldn't think of anything else except one thing.
My whole life changes tonight.
Chapter 11
#mafia bucky#mafia bucky barnes x reader#mafia!bucky#mafia!bucky barnes x reader#mafia bucky x reader#mob boss bucky x reader#mob bucky barnes#mob bucky#mob boss bucky barnes#mob bucky barnes x reader#mob boss bucky barnes x reader#mob bucky x reader#mafia bucky barnes
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His Inheritance ~ Chapter 31
Part 31: Girl on Fire
Series Masterlist
Words: 6.7k
Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader
Warnings: References to mafia, reference to violence and violent acts, references to sexual violence. Strong language, dismemberment, and physical violence. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.
Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.
Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Bucky’s phone rang, it didn’t surprise him. When he saw Kat’s number… They didn’t have plans tonight. Why the hell was she calling?
“Hello,” Bucky said, pausing the cage match he’d been watching.
“Bucky?” Kat sniffled, tears in her voice.
“Yes?”
“I’m at the hospital,” she said, clearing trying not to sob.
“Have you been hurt?” he asked, pulling the lever to sit up in his recliner. “What happened?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s my sister, Paulina.”
Ah. “What happened?”
“She’s unconscious,” Kat managed. “I don’t know what happened. But neither of us have insurance…”
Neither of them was legal residents of the US either. Bucky sighed.
“I’ll send someone down there,” he told her, ready to get back to his fight. Before his hand reached the lever on his chair, she started sobbing in earnest.
“Please,” Kat begged him. “Will you come down here?”
Kat wasn’t usually so needy. Usually, she stuck to their agreement. Something had her shaken up.
“Give me a few minutes,” he said before hanging up. Shaking his head, he shot a text to his men telling them he needed the car ASAP.
Erik Killmonger was there in less than five minutes. He’d been a soldier for the Barnes family for the last five years. The entire time, he’d handled the tasks that he was given. He never failed, followed orders to a fault, and was always quiet and respectful, Bucky’s three favorite qualities in a soldier.
Erik’s ambition had been obvious from the beginning. It was in the confident way he walked, the efficient way he took care of business. It was there when he asked Bucky if he could serve him personally. Since then, he had Erik reporting directly to Hansen, and he showed the same respect to him.
The two men were comparable in their abilities, evenly matched when it came to killing a man. But where Hansen liked to put on a show and preen around, psychologically breaking down his prey, Erik was silently lethal. Bucky had to wonder if half of the men he’d sent him to kill even saw him coming.
Now that Hansen was wherever the fuck Hansen was, Bucky didn’t believe for a fucking minute the bastard was dead, Erik was his top lieutenant. Maybe he should have been all along.
He’d put the man in charge of finding Hansen. Erik knew him better than he did. Bucky’s only request was that Hansen be brought in alive. Bucky wanted to kill the fucker himself. The betrayal signed his death warrant. The fact that Hansen thought he was going to just make off with the woman Bucky coveted, the bright jewel in the crown he'd soon wear... Bucky was just sorry he could only kill him once.
“Where we off to?” Erik asked, ready to go.
“The hospital,” Bucky said, following him out to the garage. “Kat’s sister is there. I don’t know what happened yet.”
Erik held the door open for Bucky to climb in the back of the huge SUV. Walking around, Erik took a seat in the front next to the driver.
Bucky caught Zemo’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “We’re going to the hospital. St. Agnes," he told him.
When they reached the hospital, pulling up to the door at the ER, Zemo again met his gaze in the mirror. “Should you be going in there, boss?” he asked respectfully.
“He can go wherever he wants,” Erik said, opening his door. “Nothing’s going to happen to him.”
Damn right. Very soon, Bucky would be the goddamn king of Boston.
He waited while Erik inquired about Paulina, speaking to the older woman at the emergency room desk. His man led him past the desk, swiftly through a maze of corridors until they found Paulina’s room. Kat looked grateful when they arrived, her dark eyes still shiny with tears when she opened the door.
Paulina lay in the hospital bed, curled in on her side. Her hair was a wild tangle around her head and her face was streaked with makeup and tears.
“What happened?” Bucky asked, moving to stand at the foot of the hospital bed. Erik closed the door, staying close to it.
“We went shopping,” Kat explained in her tear-filled voice. “Our car dropped her off first at her apartment building. And then… I w-went home.”
“So she was attacked in her apartment?” Bucky asked.
“I didn’t see it happen,” Kat went on. “But she didn’t make it into her apartment. Someone found her in the hallway… One of her neighbors called an a-ambulance.”
Great. More people in his business.
“My number was the emergency contact on her phone,” Kat went on. “They called me.”
“I’m sorry this happened, Kat,” Bucky said, his patience slipping. “But you didn’t need me to come down here to pay the bill.”
“What if this wasn’t random?” Kat asked.
“What else would it be?” he countered.
“Steve,” she said. “I think Steve is behind this.”
Bucky shook his head. “Why would you think Steve had anything to do with this?”’
“Why?” Kat threw her hands up. “Isn’t it obvious? With everything you’ve done to him? With you taking me away from him? He’s hitting back.”
That had Bucky chuckling. Yeah, he’d put Rogers through some things. And it wouldn’t be long until he finished Rogers, put him and his fucking family down and took the lead that should have been his when the old boss died.
“Yeah, he’ll try.” Bucky stared her down. “But what does that have to do with you and your sister? I didn’t take you away from him. You were all over me when he threw you off to get married if I remember correctly.”
Kat looked affronted. “You took me away from him. Paulina? She was seeing his consigliere.”
“Still not seeing a connection,” Bucky told her, ready to end the conversation.
Ready to end things with her period. Pretty soon, he wouldn’t need Kat.
“Banner betrayed him,” she said. “Maybe that’s why they went after Paulina.”
It was plausible. But why hit his family there? As Kat pointed out, Paulina had been Banner’s side piece. Banner was out of the Rogers’ family and no longer any use to the Barnes family. Honestly, Banner was lucky Rogers let him live. But messing with Banner’s mistress after the fact? It didn’t make sense.
It wasn’t Rogers’ style.
That reminded him. Banner had been laying low on Stark’s turf after Rogers ousted him. Then he’d disappeared. Bucky made a mental note to follow up on that.
“Did anyone see who did it?” Erik asked. “Did the neighbor see anything?”
“No,” Kat told them. “They just found her. Beaten… Don’t you understand? She wasn’t robbed or violated or anything else. Just beaten. To hurt her was the point. What else could it be? Am I next?”
Bucky moved closer to Kat, taking her chin in his fingers. She trembled in his grasp, and he knew she was scared. He wanted her to be.
“Pain and death are always the point,” Bucky whispered, gazing into her eyes. “But Steve’s not after you, Katerina. He’s not after you sister.”
Releasing her, he watched indignation and hurt bleed into her expression.
“When Rogers strikes at me,” he explained, “he’ll make it hurt. He’ll make it personal.”
“This is personal,” her voice was rising. “This does hurt.”
“You and your sister maybe,” Bucky told her. “It’s not personal for me. It doesn’t hurt. I’d have to care about you and your sister for this to hurt me and I don’t.”
Tears slid from her eyes now. “You’re wrong.”
Bucky moved closer to the woman on the bed. Her makeup was a mess but on closer inspection, there were no cuts on her face. There could be bruises under the makeup, he supposed. Pulling back a tangled section of her hair revealed her throat. No bruises there or any injuries at all.
Kat said she was beaten. Were they fucking with him?
Grabbing the edge of the blanket covering the woman, he pulled it back to reveal her unconscious form covered by a thin hospital gown with shorter sleeves. He half-expected her arms and the rest of her to be unmarked as well. He was all ready to flip shit on Kat and her sister for wasting his time.
Paulina’s arm? That was a different story. The bruises were red and angry, lacing up from her forearm like macabre artwork. The gown opened at the back, and she lay on her side facing him. Throwing the blanket back, he leaned over to look at the woman’s back. A wild patch of pink and red marks covered most of it. The one contusion right where her kidney was? That had him wincing.
Tomorrow, her skin would be purple, black, and blue and she’d be feeling it. Shaking his head, he pulled the blanket away from the rest of her. More evidence of the beating she’d taken over thighs and upper shins. Nothing close to the ankle…
Kat, still lost in her indignation, glared at him as she grabbed the blanket to cover her sister up again.
“Still think this is random?” she asked, still swiping away tears.
Bucky shrugged as he headed for the door. “I’ll handle the billing,” he said over his shoulder as he walked out.
The entire situation should have left his mind never to return the minute he was back in his car and headed home. Bucky just couldn’t get his mind off it. It was just so off. Why was it done? What did it mean?
Was it a message for him?
***
After finishing his run, Bucky headed for his study to check messages before getting a shower.
“Bucky?”
He jumped at how off-guard she’d caught him. There Kat stood in the door of his study, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Her big dark eyes were on him, a shiny red shopping bag dangling from her manicured fingers.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked irritably. He didn’t like her coming by his house uninvited. She knew that.
“I’m sorry.” She looked it.
As he stood watching her, a sweaty mess behind his desk, she meekly approached him. Stopping on the other side of his desk, she carefully placed the bag on the top of his desk between them.
“It’s for you,” she said forlornly. “Thank you for helping Paulina.”
Blowing out an exhale, he looked at the bag. “She out of the hospital yet?”
Kat nodded. “She’s home. Resting. I’m staying with her since we don’t know who did this… or why.”
Bucky hated wasting the manpower but in the off-chance Kat was right… “I’ll send someone to keep an eye on her place for the next couple of days, okay?”
“And mine?” she asked, flashing him a smile.
“You said you were staying with her,” he pointed out. “You stay with her, someone’s looking after you too.”
The smile faded and he couldn’t even feel badly about it. Kat was one of many. He’d had women who were more beautiful, better in bed. She wasn’t unique. She wouldn’t even be memorable.
And she’d served her purpose a long time ago. He took up with her to piss off Steve, to hurt his wife. While Rogers had been pissed and insulted that Bucky brought his former mistress to his wedding, he hadn’t succeeded in his second objective. The new Mrs. Rogers hadn’t been hurt.
No, the daughter of the old boss and the new bride of his enemy had turned out to be a lioness.
Think of that. The girl had been hidden away like Quasimodo in his bell tower, mutilated and not fit for society. That was what he’d always been told about the old boss’s surviving child. His bitch wife, who’d ripped Bucky’s family apart by having an affair with his father, died trying to get out and killed the man’s son. The daughter was never supposed to be anything for Bucky Barnes to be concerned with.
Even so, Bucky hated her. He’d been glad she was disfigured, glad she’d never be out in the world. He’d even toyed around with the idea of paying her a visit once her father died. Taking care of the disfigured little lamb once and for all.
Rogers had executed his plan well. That he was kissing ass to claim the crown, Bucky got that. He had no idea, however, that Rogers planned to marry the boss's daughter who was supposed to be horribly disfigured. Within a week of her father dying, Bucky gets word that she’s engaged to Rogers and the wedding Is being rushed.
When he went to confront Rogers about it, he was surprised to find her alone and barely dressed in the kitchen. She was uncovered enough for him to see there wasn’t likely a scar or blemish on her. She was amazingly beautiful wearing her whore mother’s face with innocent eyes. That first impression of her had him both hard as a rock and ready to commit murder, right there in Rogers’ kitchen.
Rogers knew what he was doing. He didn’t care who she was, that her mother destroyed the Barnes family. Rogers didn’t care about anything but the throne and it was then Bucky decided he’d do whatever it took to take Rogers’ crown, to take him and his bitch wife out.
But he couldn't get her out of his head. Not once he saw her.
Bucky had assumed for most of his life that Mrs. Rogers was his half-sister. The daughter of his father. After meeting her, he looked into it, knowing her father would have had a paternity test done under the circumstances. With a little patience and a lot of money, Bucky had an answer.
Mrs. Rogers was not related to him by blood. The old boss was her father after all.
By the time he figured this out, Bucky had found his attitude toward Mrs. Rogers shifting. Yeah, he could kill her when he destroyed her husband. No one would be surprised or even blame him.
But he’d never met a woman like her. There was a fire, an iron will, buried beneath the persona. Mrs. Rogers was stunning, beautiful. But according to Loguidice, Rogers’ bride wasn’t just a pretty face. There was a beast in her heart. The lioness could handle her husband, win his men’s loyalty, and even fucking shoot Lloyd Hansen which had been hilarious when his lieutenant had to explain it to him.
And she would be Bucky’s at the end of this. It was going to happen.
Glancing at his current mistress, he knew it was past time to end things. But he’d wait until Paulina had mended. Make sure nothing else was heard about that little incident. Then he’d drop the hammer.
“Do you really care so little about me?” Kat asked him, pulling him from his thoughts.
It wasn’t a bad acting job. Bucky smiled.
“Do we really care about each other?” he wanted to know. “Relationships aren’t based solely on love. That’s the movies. Relationships are based on mutual need. You need someone to give you money to maintain your lifestyle and I need sex and occasionally some arm candy. Don’t make this something more than it really is.”
Hooking a finger in the bag, he peeked into it to see a wad of tissue paper.
Kat watched him expectantly.
Grabbing the bag, he pulled out whatever she had wrapped in that tissue paper. It felt odd in his hand, more than one thing. The first thing he encountered was a small jewel box. Setting the rest down, he opened that to see a set of ruby cufflinks winking up at him from the black velvet.
He had to give her credit. She knew his tastes.
“These are nice,” he told her with a grin. “Thank you… What else do we have here?”
Kat’s brow creased as she watched him pick up the wad of tissue still in front of him.
“There was nothing else,” she said, looking confused.
But there was something else. Peeling away the tissue paper, Bucky stared at the fucking fingers – five human fingers – he held in his hands. In disgust, he dropped them onto the desk as Kat covered her mouth with her hand, backing away in horror.
“What the fuck?” he demanded, staring at those digits.
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “I didn’t do that. I didn’t… I feel sick.”
Kat dashed from his study like the devil was chasing her as Bucky muscled his way past the revulsion to study those digits. The fingers of a white man, toughened from work. There was no blood. No rings. No scars or other identifying marks.
Grabbing the bag, Bucky looked to see if there was something else. There was. A business card for a donut shop on Rogers’ turf. He recognized the name of the shop.
Fuck.
Bucky hadn’t ordered a hit on that shop or the girl. No, that was all Hansen who took the girl that worked there. Bucky hadn’t known a thing about it until after Rogers’ faceoff against Hansen who had since disappeared.
Bucky studied the fingers again. Were they Hansen’s? He didn’t think so. Hansen had big hands, he didn’t remember the fingers being slender.
Well, they’d find out.
Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he shot a text to Erik to come right away.
Now he wondered if the attack on Paulina was related. Was it tied to this? Was there more to come?
It would make sense if it was Rogers. But Rogers wasn’t usually so theatrical. He’d hit hard, head on. Anyone who was at odds with him always saw him coming. In his defense, he always hit really fucking hard.
This? It was puzzling. And not Rogers’ style at all.
What game was he unwittingly playing? And with whom?
***
The tap at the door pulled Bucky away from trying to catch up on his investment portfolio, sheets scattered all over his normally immaculate desk. His mind wasn’t on it. He’d been pretending to look at the numbers for damn near an hour.
Erik looked as tired as Bucky felt. He was hoping his lieutenant had some news for him. The episode earlier with Kat and the dead man’s fingers still had him rattled.
“Found out who those fingers belonged to,” Erik got right into it. “Belonged to one of Hansen’s men. One of our guys found the rest of him in a dumpster on your turf. The prints matched.”
Bucky nodded. Hansen likely had the guy pick up the donut shop girl for him. And the ax fell on him because they didn’t get Hansen. Bucky nodded. It was something he’d do.
The donut shop girl. What did she know, if anything, about everything going on? Maybe he should chat with her.
“Hansen’s still alive,” Buck said flatly.
Erik nodded. “There’s no proof he’s not.”
“Anything else?”
His man’s dark-eyed gaze met his. “I sent men looking for Banner, but it looks like he skipped town.”
A wise move on the man’s part.
“You don’t think he targeted Paulina, do you?” Erik asked.
Bucky shook his head. “Not with that temper of his. If Banner decided to do that, she would know it was him. He’d make sure she knew it was him.”
Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Bucky leaned back in his office chair, tried to relax. To think. “Any word on Rogers?”
“You knew Hansen and Frankenstein grabbed Dyson to draw Rogers out,” Erik said.
“Frankenstein?” Bucky asked.
“Neal Logiudice,” Erik explained. “Pop some bolts on his neck and he looks like Frankenstein.”
Bucky snorted. He could see that.
“Then he was supposed to off Dyson and Logiudice,” Erik continued. “Grab Rogers if he could. Hansen changed the plan. He drew Mrs. Rogers out instead of her husband.”
Bucky was still furious about what happened. Dyson would never betray Rogers and Logiudice was collateral damage. The move was meant to break Rogers down. Dyson’s loss on top of Logiudice’s betrayal would demoralize him. Bucky thought it might just finally finish his rival off.
Instead, Mrs. Rogers showed up, playing right into Hansen’s hand. Then her husband showed up and he brought friends. A shootout ensued. Rogers, his wife, and Dyson made it out. So did Hansen and Logiudice, apparently. And Bucky was out several men. Several good men.
“Does anyone know?” Bucky pressed. “Was Rogers shot?”
“Most likely,” Erik told him. “There’s different versions of the story. Some say he got shot. Some say Dyson got shot. Other say Mrs. Rogers was shot to protect Dyson and Rogers got shot trying to shield her.”
Rolling his eyes, Bucky blew out an exhale. Needless to say, whoever did or didn’t get shot in Hansen’s grand fuckup was a moot point. Rogers was fine. He’d apparently had enough of Bucky fucking him and now he was firing back at the Barnes’ family.
There was nothing altruistic about their chosen business. You were either a ruthless bastard or dead. Back when they were both younger and coming up under their fathers’ wings, Steve Rogers had been a cocky, dangerous bastard and Bucky always hated all the attention he got. How Rogers always got away with everything.
Bucky always knew that the minute his father was gone, the minute it was just him calling the shots, that Rogers would fail. Then he’d found another mentor in the former leader of the five families but that didn’t last, and he died too. Bucky just knew that without the mentorship of better men, Rogers wouldn’t make it on his own. He was one hell of a soldier, terrifying if he came after you. But a leader?
Still, something was different. So far Rogers had pulled himself out of the trap Bucky set for him with Hansen, sent him the fingers of one of Hansen’s men in Kat’s little gift bag, and maybe had someone beat the shit out of Paulina, Kat’s sister.
While Kat swore to him she had nothing to do with the fingers, Bucky wasn’t leaving anything to chance. He had her taken to her sister’s place and there she would stay under close watch. He didn’t think either woman had anything to do with whatever the fuck was going on. But he’d keep them under glass for now to make sure.
Rogers?
There was an underlying menace to sending Bucky the dead man’s fingers. It wasn’t just the barbarism of the act. It was multifaceted. It was Rogers letting Bucky know that he knew about the donut shop girl and exactly who abducted her. It was knowledge that she’d been taken under Bucky’s command even if it wasn’t his personal decision. It was accusatory and direct.
It left him feeling unsettled. Bucky had been so close to shutting Rogers down, to finally taking everything he wanted.
And now? Well, he sure as fuck couldn’t slow down now. He couldn’t let Rogers even the score.
“My Vinny’s gotten here yet?” Bucky asked. He’d sent out for food from his favorite restaurant. Vinny’s was the best Italian restaurant in all of Boston and the owner's brother was one of Bucky’s best soldiers.
“I’ll go check,” Erik said, heading off to do that.
It was only a few minutes later that Bucky had his takeout, enjoying it in his recliner while he took in an action movie he’d been wanting to watch. His meal didn’t disappoint. The veal was perfect, just what he’d wanted.
After he’d digested a few minutes, he took his dishes to the kitchen, ready for dessert. The tiramisu was in the fridge and Bucky grinned as he pulled it from its foam box to carefully place it on a plate. With a fresh glass of wine, he returned to his recliner and resumed the movie.
Bucky was two bites in when his fork hit something that felt unexpectedly solid in the layered dessert. Frowning, he worked at using his fork to grab the next bite. But something was wrong. Something was in there…
Taking a closer look, he found something solid in there. Plucking it at with his fingers, he found… meat?
He almost lost his meal to realize that something was the tip of a human ear.
“What the fuck?” Bucky said to himself, his heart starting to race in his chest.
Sitting up in the recliner, he kept digging through the dessert to find an earlobe, just as bloodless as the tip.
It was the dark eye staring up at him that from the bottom that had him screaming, fighting nausea as he slung it all away and sent it flying across the room.
“Fuck me! Fuck me!” he was shouting as Erik and Zemo both raced into the room to see who was killing their boss.
Covering his mouth with a hand, Bucky fled to the bathroom…
***
“I am so sorry,” Erik said for the hundredth time. “I looked in there, but I should have looked a lot closer.”
Soldiers were crawling his house, crawling the grounds. Zemo was at Vinny’s, no doubt tearing the restaurant apart. And he’d specifically requested that Zemo take Vinny’s brother with him. If there was a rat in his ranks or at the restaurant, heads would roll.
Bucky shook his head, sitting in his recliner with his elbows on his knees. He felt like shit. More body parts sent to him set his nerves on edge.
Was it Rogers? If so, he didn’t like the fact that his enemy was running up the score. That really pissed him off. His mind was spinning with the theories forming in his head.
“We’ll try to figure out who those…” Erik shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t worry about it?” Bucky asked, rising from the recliner to glare at Erik. “That’s all I’ve been fucking doing the last three days. You know?”
Erik didn’t drop his gaze, didn’t back down. Bucky admired his quiet accountability.
But it wasn’t exclusively Erik’s fault. It was on all of them. Even him. No one had ever been able to get him directly. People around him, yes. But never him. Taking another drink of his Scotch, his mind spun webs with his instincts. He was starting to form a few ideas on his current situation.
“Boss,” Zemo called, walking into his living room.
Bucky spotted his man, standing a few feet away with a white takeout carton in his hands. He wasn’t going to like whatever was in the box, he knew from the way Zemo shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously.
“What is it?” Bucky asked, trying to be ready for anything.
“We went through Vinny’s, and we found this in Vinny’s office,” Zemo explained carefully. “It’s for you. Vinny swears he didn’t see who left it and he doesn’t know anything about it.”
“You believe him?” It was an honest question.
Zemo nodded.
Bucky motioned him forward, not looking forward to his latest surprise with the dark red stains at its bottom corners. He plucked the card off the top. It simply read, “Hint: It’s not Snow White’s.”
Bucky really shouldn’t have been surprised to find what appeared to be a human heart in that box. He really shouldn’t have. Once he started laughing, it was hard to quit. His laughter was manic, a stress response. Something he hadn’t done in years.
It’s not Snow White’s.
Erik looked concerned. “I’ll get on figuring out who that is,” he offered.
Laughing, Bucky sank back onto his recliner, still laughing as he set the carton on his end table like it didn’t have a human heart in it.
“I think… I might know who this is,” Bucky said when he caught his breath. “It’s not Snow White’s. What did the magic mirror tell the evil queen about the heart the huntsman delivered to her? The mirror said it was the heart of a pig.” Laughter threatened to halt his conversation as pieces of the puzzle started to slide together in his mind. “This is the heart of a pig.”
His men didn’t speak, looked like they had no idea what to say to that.
“This is making a little sense now,” Bucky told them. “Erik, you and Zemo stay. Everyone else, fuck off.”
The soldiers cleaning and checking everything cleared out fast while Erik and Zemo moved closer.
“Who do you think that is?” Erik asked.
“That?” Bucky pointed to the carton. “That’s the heart of a pig. I’ll be really fucking surprised if it’s not Bruce Banner.”
Zemo’s brows shot up. Neither man spoke.
“Kat was right,” Bucky said. “This is Rogers hitting back. But… it isn’t.”
Rising from the chair, Bucky started pacing. Both men watched him in silence.
“Think about each incident,” Bucky told them as he paced. “Paulina was attacked. Then the fingers, eyes and ears, now the heart. All of it’s personal. It’s very, very personal.”
“Personal?” Zemo asked.
That stopped Bucky. “Don’t you see? Paulina was Banner’s side piece. Someone did a number on her.”
“In a way that could be covered up,” Erik muttered.
“Yes!” Bucky pointed to him. “Exactly. Hold that thought… And now, here’s the cheating, deceitful pig’s heart.” He continued pacing. “The tiramisu? I think that must be Logiudice. He was my eyes and ears in the Rogers household.”
Understanding lit up Erik’s face. “What about the fingers? That guy?”
Bucky shook his head. “The guy Hansen sent to kidnap the donut shop girl isn’t the point.”
“What is the point, boss?” Zemo asked.
“Each of these messages were sent on Rogers’ behalf,” Bucky explained. “But I don’t think they are from the man himself. No, this is someone else… All three messages have one thing in common… A woman scorned.”
Erik nodded, listening. He was always quick on the take. Zemo still looked confused.
“Bruce Banner was married to Rogers’ sister, but she didn’t love him,” Bucky told them. “She loved her high school sweetheart, Clint Barton. Banner knew this. That's why he’d beat his wife where it didn’t show. It's why he shot Barton.”
“Then,” Bucky stopped in front of Zemo. “Hansen got away but I was sent the fingers of the man who took the girl from the donut shop by Hansen’s order. Hansen was my right-hand man. A reminder of the wrong done to that woman.”
“Explain Logiudice,” Erik said.
Bucky smirked at him. “Oh, I can. He betrayed Mrs. Rogers herself right before we grabbed Dyson. Her husband had restricted her to their bedroom he was so pissed..” An idea with merit.
“You think a woman gave these orders?” Zemo looked puzzled.
“Maybe,” Bucky muttered, as something occurred to him. “I need to talk to one of these women first.”
“Who?” Erik asked.
“I need you to find the girl from the donut shop,” Bucky told them. “I need to see if she knows anything we don’t before I make any decisions.”
***
Bucky was both surprised and pleased to see the girl waiting for him. The park this time of day was quiet with only one man walking his dog, and she was sitting on the bench by the giant sandbox, just as he instructed her.
When he walked around, she didn’t look up. Hell, she probably had no idea who he even was. He didn’t mind keeping it that way. There was no reason she needed to know anything else about their world. All she had to do was be nice, be cooperative, and he’d help her find her way out of his world.
Carefully, like he was trying not to frighten a doe, he sat a couple of feet away from her on the bench, setting the bookbag he brought with him between his feet.
She didn’t look up until he called her name and then, her eyes were wide in alarm. The lower half of her face was covered by a medical mask, maybe because of the flu going around. She’d made herself small, slouching on the bench with her hands folded on her knees.
He introduced himself just as Bucky, that was all she needed to know. Her cold hand was trembling when she shook his. He knew she was scared, and he didn’t intend to keep her long.
“Thank you for coming,” he said. “I wasn’t sure you would.”
She nodded, her gaze on the floor in front of her.
“I want to apologize to you for what happened,” he said without preamble. “The man who… While he was a soldier of mine, taking you wasn’t an order I gave. I know that doesn’t change a lot for you. But you should know that.”
Again, she just nodded.
“And I do want to help you,” Bucky said slowly, leaning a little closer to her. “I’ve brought you a substantial gift. Enough to help you get back on your feet and back to school somewhere else.”
“What do you want?” she asked quietly.
Bucky grinned. It was a smart question.
“You’re right,” he admitted. “There is something I want. I want to ask you a few questions about your time with him. Will you answer?”
She squeezed her eyes shut at the mention and guilt pricked at him. Hansen was a fucking weirdo, and he could only imagine what he might have done to her. It had him wishing he’d framed the question in a different way. But it was out now so…
“Do you know his name?” Bucky asked her.
“Lloyd,” she said. “Sir.”
Oh, he did not want to know about any of Lloyd’s kinks or hangups.
“He didn’t give you any other names?”
“No,” she said.
“Another man brought you to Lloyd’s house,” Bucky said quietly. “Did you see anyone else. Besides him and Lloyd, in your time there?”
The young woman shook her head.
“Tell me about the day you got out,” Bucky said.
She shrugged nervously. “A man broke down the door and helped me out,” she said. “That’s all.”
Bucky frowned. That didn’t sound right. “You didn’t hear a fight elsewhere in the house? The sound of bullets?”
After a moment, she nodded, still staring hard at the ground before them on the bench. “It was the day before. There was shouting and a fight. Guns…”
So no one found her until the next day. Bucky wasn’t happy about that. None of his men swept the house?
“Where did the other man take you once he got you out?” Bucky asked.
The young woman blew out a long sigh. “To a friend’s,” she said slowly.
He nodded. “I don’t need specifics. I just need to know if you ran into anyone else since you were taken. Did you ever leave his house until the guy got you out?”
She shook her head.
He hated to ask. “Did he let anyone else…”
“No,” she said quickly.
“All right,” Bucky said in a kinder tone. “What can you tell me about the guy who got you out?”
She was still for a moment, before shrugging. “Not much. I wasn’t… trying to look at him.”
“Did you see any women?” Bucky asked. “Any other younger women like yourself, about your size?“ Did she see Mrs. Rogers there?
“No,” she said after a moment. “Why?”
“Why what?” Bucky asked, giving her one last chance to tell him something useful before he handed her the bag of money and told her to get lost.
“Ask about other women?” she asked.
“I was just wondering if you'd seen someone I’m interested in,” Bucky said simply.
“Why are you interested in her?” the young woman asked.
“For many reasons,” Bucky told her as he rose from the bench. “For our purposes here, I’m curious about the part she played in the last few days.”
She sighed again but didn’t move as he stood above her.
Hauling the bookbag off the ground, he held it up for her. It was filled with money, a lot of it, hers for the taking.
“Take this and make a fresh start,” he told her. “But this talk didn't take place. You understand?”
Slowly, she stood, her head ducked making her smaller than him. With a hand, she reached to take the bag from him. She froze. Her hand gripped one of the straps, but she’d stopped moving.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. “I can’t…”
She couldn't take the money?
“I’ve got it,” another female voice came from behind him, with a Russian accent. Before he could turn to see who it was, he felt the blade pierce his clothing, pierce his skin before sliding into his flesh at his side. The fuck?
The pain didn’t subside when the blade was pulled free as he expected. The pain grew in intensity, spreading out from the wound.
Was the blade coated in poison?
The woman in front of him now held the backpack in one hand, pulling the mask from her face with the other. Bucky's pain was breathtaking and had him gasping as he dropped to his knees, gripping his side with his hand and listening to shouts from his men drawing closer.
Bucky stared up in pain and rage at the woman he now recognized as Mrs. Steve Rogers.
“You!” he managed. “You fucking bitch! You’re… You did this?!”
Her eyes were fierce on him. “I did,” she said.
"Evil bitch," he hissed.
"When all of you commit violence, you're protecting your family," she explained angrily. "When I commit violence, I'm an evil bitch."
His gaze darted to the backpack and back.
“And you’re taking the fucking money… too?”
Yelena Belova was there, trying to pull her away.
“I’m giving it to her,” she said as Belova pulled her away. “Just like you wanted.”
Bucky's mind was a mad whirl of thoughts as pain strengthened its grip on him. It was her. Not her husband. Did that mean...?
"Is Steve even alive?" he managed.
She held his gaze. "He is."
"He's not in good shape," Bucky shot back, hating how the pain rendered him unable to wring her neck. "He wouldn't let you... He's bad off if you..."
"We have to go," Belova urged her, grabbing Mrs. Rogers' arm and pulling her behind her in earnest.
“I’m… I'll get you!” Bucky promised, his vision fading to black at the edges. "I'll survive this... and I'll get you!"
"If you survive this," she called back, "Steve will get you."
Then she was gone and his men were there, crowding around him, their shouts fading as he let the darkness claim him.
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#His Inheritance#Bucky Barnes#Yelena Belova#Erik Killmonger#Zemo#Mafia AU#Mob Boss!Steve Rogers#Steve Rogers x reader#Steve Rogers x you
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His Obsession
His Obsession
Chapter 1
:Jordan didn’t exactly know what she was getting into when she accidentally bumped into Bucky Barnes aka The king of New York the boss of the Mafia
Warning:Stalking, kidnapping, Forced relationship, Forced Marriage, NonCon.
You were running down the street bumping into people every now and again.
“Excuse me. Sorry.” You say as you continue to run
You were running late. You are a RN in the Emergency room. Working sometimes double even triple shifts. Not really having a personal life, Always working and if you weren’t working you were home sleeping.
You turn the corner only to be knocked off you’re feet, about to fall on you’re ass.
But you were quickly caught by the wrist and quickly pulled to you’re feet.
“Sorry about that.” You hear
You look up and see a man in a black suit. Rings on his left hand. Tattoo on the top of his left hand and it loos like it goes up his arm the way it disappears from the sleeves of his suit.
He had dark hair that was almost shoulder length and icy blue eyes.
“Oh no I’m sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going.” You say as you smile at him.
You’re watch beeps.
“Oh sugar plumbs I’m late! Sorry I have to go thank you for saving me from a nasty fall.” You say as you run down the street.
Bucky watches as you disappear in the crowd of people A smirk on his face. He didn’t think there was anyone in this city that could smile at him like that. Most people take one look at him and shiver in fear. It did something to him, You’re long dark hair and Jade green eyes that reminded him of freshly cut grass,
He didn’t fail to notice You’re name tag, Jordan Cross He smirked
“I’ll be seeing you real soon doll.” He smirked
He pulls out his phone hitting the contact number.
“Natasha I need you to find an address for me.Jordan Cross She works at Mercy Hospital” He says
“Okay, Text it to me when you find it.” He says hanging up the phone
He smirked knowing that he just found the one person that wasn’t aware of who he was or the profession he was in.
It didn’t take long to locate you’re apartment, And it didn’t take much effort to get the key from the manager, All he had to do was give him a look. Which was very concerning. As he looked around you’re house he noticed there wasn’t much. No picture’s on the walls. The fridge and cabinets were empty. A TV and love seat in the main room, A a queen size bed in the bedroom.
“Seems pretty basic.” Steve says as they look around
“But no personality to it.” Nat says
“Start hiding the cameras.” Bucky says everyone nods
You were dead tired after working a double shift. All you wanted to do was shower and sleep screw eating it was way too much work.
You unlock you’re door shuffling to the bathroom stripping you’re scrubs off and jumping in the shower for a much needed shower.
After you’re quick shower you dress into a pair of plaid black and white shorts and you’re old collage jersey. Flopping on the bed without covering up you just fall into a deep sleep. But unknown to you, Bucky stood over you, His knuckles brushing against you’re cheek.
“Soon doll. Soon You’ll be mine.” He whispers with a small smile on his face.
The next day you were running late again, Rushing out the door, and running down the streets to the hospital, You always end up shutting you’re alarm off to get a little extra sleep, You’re boss doesn’t ever give you a day off or ever cut you any slack when you are late he retaliates by making you work a double shift, He’s a complete tool in you’re eyes anyway, Bucky watched as you ran past the many people on the side walk bumping into a few on the way. He smiled knowing he was going to bide his time to set his plan into motion, He had been waiting to find someone like you for a very long time and He knew that you were a hard working woman who barley had a social or private life because of you’re job. From what he dug up on you you’re mother died when you were only five years old leaving you to be raised by you’re step father. In and out of the hospital a lot with mysterious injuries broken arm, cracked ribs, broken tail bone, the list went on and on it’s no mystery what was going on, You left for collage at the age of eighteen, graduating not long after. went for you’re clinical at the same hospital you currently work at now. Never had a vacation or personal day. This was a bit concerning for Bucky you didn’t have a life, all you did was work and sleep, hell you barley had any food in you’re apartment. He knew tonight he was going to take you away from this life, that you were going to have a better life with him and his men. You wouldn’t have to work hard just to get by anymore he was going to make sure of that if it was the last thing he did. He smiled and walked towards you’re apartment.
He made himself comfortable sitting in you’re love seat in the main room and waited
You sighed grabbing you’re purse and walking out of the hospital Eric you’re boss made you work a triple shift you were exhausted, You have a bruise on you’re bicep from him grabbing you when he called you to his office when you were late today. He said one more time and you are fired. What does he expect you work double sometimes triple shifts then he expects you to come in the same day after only a few hours of sleep.
You unlock you’re apartment door, closing it behind you setting you’re purse on the counter. When a hand covers you’re mouth.
“You’re late doll.” You hear from behind you.
You try to struggle but the intruder was too strong you feel a prick in you’re neck and you can feel yourself getting weak and tired
“Don’t worry doll you’ll be home soon.” Was the last thing you hear before falling into a deep slumber.
#dark bucky x reader#dark bucky barnes#dark steve rogers#dark avengers#innocent reader#dark marvel#original character#mafia bucky barnes#mafia boss#cjand10
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Hybrids Mafia Princess Pt4
Warning: SMUT! Oral (F receiving), loss of virginity, anal sex, brief mentions of SA
Tag List: @a-beaverhausen @ranisingsnew @ronswhoree @susannahmikaelson @skulliecadaver-blog @yeaiamme2 @nataliewalker93 @luz09
Getting passed the guards on the property was easier than he expected, climbing up and tapping on her window. Y/n looked over, confused by the sound before seeing him and letting Klaus see the adorable “stunned” expression she wore.
‘What are you doing here?! Have you lost your mind? You could have been shot at the party we were at, now imagine what my father will do to you here, in my bedroom no less…how did you get passed the guards?’ She wondered and he smirked, sending a jolt of excitement down her spine.
‘I’m very sneaky. I told you this wasn’t over, remember?’ He teased her and while she giggled, she moved passed him to the window, opening it again and looking around.
‘It was sweet of you to come here but you need to go. I don’t want to be the reason you-‘ he cut off her ramblings as she turned, pressing his lips to hers gently. ‘Well maybe you could stay for a moment.’
‘Just a moment.’ He assured her, kissing her again, their lips meeting roughly.
‘Then you have to…have to go-‘
‘Have to go.’ He agreed and stepped forward, leading Y/n backwards until her back hit the mattress. ‘God, you’re gorgeous, fucking beautiful!’ Klaus pressed his lips to her jaw once she stopped for air, pinning her down and continuing to kiss her neck, sucking a dark mark onto her perfect skin before sinking his fangs into her.
Klaus had always heard how a mates blood tasted better than any other person in the world and he could now attest to that. As her blood flooded his mouth he couldn’t repress the moan that escaped him, her hips humping up against his cock which was practically ready to explode in his pants like he was a 14 year old boy. Y/n’s fingers were buried in his short blond locks, holding tightly as he continued grinding his hips down and Klaus knew how desperate he was making her.
‘Such a good girl, letting Daddy take care of you like this.’ She made a soft mewling sound, unable to get any words to form on her lips as she panted, Klaus’ hands holding tight to her thighs and not letting up as he kept pushing his hard cock against her. ‘You’re gonna cum for me Princess, Daddy’s gonna get you nice and wet before you take my cock.’
‘Nngh…Daddy!’ She moaned, hands holding onto his back so tightly that if he were human he would definitely bruise.
‘That’s right baby, Daddy’s here, making your pussy feel so good…You’re gonna let Daddy fuck your pretty pussy, aren’t you? Gonna let Daddy love you just like you need.’ She nodded quickly, him rutting against her just right before her head hit the mattress and Klaus quickly clamped his hand over her mouth as she came with a loud cry, unable to stop herself and it was the cutest thing the Hybrid had ever seen. ‘Such a good girl, Princess, just relax, Daddy will take care of everything.’ Klaus promised, moving to pull his shirt over his head, feeling her warm fingers on his skin almost instantly. Her shirt came off next along with her sleep pants and panties, leaving her completely exposed to his mercy and she didn’t seem to think anything was wrong with that.
Klaus knew he needed to protect this girl, her father had really fucked her up if she’s this trusting with him already and he is just thankful that it’s him that found her this vulnerable. He’s going to take advantage of it of course, but he won’t hurt her, not at all. He’s going to make her feel so good she’ll never even think about leaving him.
‘Klaus…I’ve never-‘
‘I know. It’s alright, I’m gonna take such good care of you. You’re Daddy’s baby now, and Daddy takes care of what belongs to him.’ He unhooked his belt and pulled down both his pants and boxer briefs just enough to free his cock and her eyes went wide. Klaus didn’t have the longest cock but his was always the thickest women had ever had (a result of his werewolf genes even when dormant), and he knew he had to be gentle. He also knew that being gentle and making her first time perfect would ensure she trusted him even more as he knew every man who had ever flirted with her had been aggressive about it, probably scaring the poor innocent girl even more he realized as he saw the fear in her eyes that he decided he did not like from his mate. ‘Don’t be scared…we don’t have to do this, we can stop right now if you don’t-‘
‘No, please don’t? I want you to enjoy it, I can do that. I can make you feel good, Daddy.’
His wolf practically purred in his chest at the idea that his mate wants to please him and would clearly let him fuck her any which way he wanted…maybe even in my wolf form- He quickly cut off that line of thought from his beast before getting back on track.
‘Princess, I love that you want to make me happy but I need to take care of you. That’s a Daddy’s job. You are going to love every second of this and if I hurt you the tiniest bit you are to tell me right away…you’re mine now. I won’t hurt you, I won’t be like everyone else in your life…I promise.’ The tears welling up in her eyes were almost cute and she pulled him down to press her lips to his passionately, desperately, needy for him as she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him close so his cock now rested against her slit. He couldn’t control the groan that came from him when he felt her wet heat against his sensitive, hard length and he quickly took hold of himself and pressed into her slowly, pausing about halfway in when she squeaked suddenly. ‘Take a second and relax your muscles, that will help, relax for Daddy.’ Klaus pressed his lips to her neck, sucking hard and leaving a dark love bite on her perfect pale skin.
‘I’m okay. More.’ She urged and he smiled, pressing in further, not stopping this time until he bottomed out. ‘So full…didn’t know I could feel like this…please move?!’ Y/n begged and he obliged right away, pulling his hips back and easing back in again. He did that several more times before thrusting up into her and enjoying her squeal before clamping his hand over her mouth again.
‘There’s Daddy’s good girl, so fucking good for me!’ He growled, the beast in the back of his mind purring in contentment as his mate allowed him to take her as he wanted, thrusting into her like a man possessed. ‘Perfect fucking pussy, squeezing me so good! You have the most perfect cunt I’ve ever felt, like velvet wrapped around me. She’s treating Daddy so good, never gonna stop fucking you! You’re all mine now. My! Fucking! Pussy!’ He growled, a thrust punctuating his last 3 words before I squealed under his hand, squeezing his cock hard as I came before feeling something hot filling me up inside. It was a feeling that I immediately loved and wanted more of as he pulled himself out of my pussy and kissed my face several times. He rolled off of me and pulled me to his side instantly, kissing my head and snuggling me as we both relaxed.
‘Did you mean it?’ He looked down at where she rested on his chest, raising his brows in question. ‘When you said I’m all yours now…did you mean it or…or was this just a one time thing? I-I have to know cause…so many men want to fuck me. Some cause they want on my Dads good side…some cause they want to say they stuck their cock in James Barnes daughter, and a lot want to…doesn’t matter-‘
‘No, what were you going to say?’
‘It doesn’t matter, I-‘
‘It does matter, tell me…a lot of them want to what?’ He demanded, suddenly quite serious and she cringed.
‘A lot of men want revenge on my father and…I wasn’t supposed to know but a lot of men have threatened to…hurt me…to get back at him. He killed them of course but the point is I don’t just want to be used…I want someone to love me no matter how pathetic that sounds-‘
‘That doesn’t sound pathetic…my father was an abusive piece of shit and that’s all I wanted all my life too…I understand.’ He explained, feeling close enough to tell her something only his siblings are aware of.
‘The point is I just-I need to know if I’m gonna wake up tomorrow and never see you again. It’s okay if-if you just wanted to fuck me, I would understand but please tell me the truth?’
His mate doubted him. He couldn’t say he didn’t understand, she’s been through hell in her life and she knows how many men just want to use and abuse her, she’s smart to be cautious…If not a bit late about it. ‘There’s a lot I need to tell you about myself, but right now you need to know that I knew the moment I first saw you that you were it for me. I’m in love with you Y/n, and I could not physically care any fucking less about your father. In fact I want to take you right now out that window and never come back, keep you by my side for eternity and get away from this horrible environment-‘
‘You would run away with me?’ She asked, hope in her voice and he instantly knew she would go anywhere he wanted with him.
‘In a heartbeat. We’ll do it, we’ll run away together. Whenever you’re ready Princess, but you need to understand, I meant everything I said to you. You are mine, every inch of you and I will never need another women again. I will never be with anyone but you, this perfect little cunt-‘ he spoke, hand cupping her sex and feeling her wetness against his fingers instantly. ‘-is the only one I will ever need again. This body is Daddy’s now, all mine to play with however I want…isn’t it? You’ll let Daddy play with you, won’t you?’ She nodded quickly, panting like a dog in heat as the heel of his hand rubbed over her clit roughly. ‘Let Daddy fuck this pussy however I want…will you let Daddy play with all your holes?’ His wet fingers trailed back down her slit and pressed between her cheeks to find her tight little asshole waiting for him to play with. She gasped as he pressed against the tight muscle, rubbing over it firmly and watching her eyes flutter as she nodded her head quickly.
‘P-please? Please Daddy?’
‘Does Daddy have a desperate little anal slut on his hands? I bet you are, you’re gonna beg your Daddy to fuck your tight little bum. I will always make you feel good Babygirl.’ He told her, pushing 2 of his wet fingers into her tight hole. ‘I won’t fuck you like this until I can hear you scream as loud as you need to for me, Daddy can’t wait until he can hear every sound he can drag out of your slutty little mouth. Until then though-‘ he placed his other hand over her mouth before sliding down her body and pressing a kiss to her clit, licking up her slit and tasting their combined pleasure, his wolf purring once again from deep in his chest. He thrust his fingers into her asshole as he ate her out, desperate to make her cum all over again only to freeze when there was suddenly a loud knock at her door.
‘Y/n? What are those noises? Are you hurt?’ She didn’t respond, looking down at Klaus terrified but he just gestured for her to respond to Steve. ‘Answer me or I’m coming in, and I don’t care how dressed you are!’
‘Steve, I’m…I’m masterbating! And I don’t know how my dad would feel about you talking to me while my fingers are inside my cunt!’
‘Oh Jesus! Christ Y/n, just-just keep it down! Goodnight!’ He hissed, stomping off down the hall just before she moaned again, Klaus sucking her clit hard and curling his fingers just right before his mate suddenly squirt all over his mouth causing the moan that the Hybrid let out as he came on the blanket underneath him.
‘You are so fucking perfect!’ He panted, wiping his mouth before sliding up her body and pressing his lips to hers desperately.
Y/n took his face in her hands and caressed his stubbly jaw. ‘I want to leave this house. This state, I want to go have a life with you away from all of this horrible pain. My father is…he’s a monster and if we don’t go I’m going to have to watch him kill you next. Tell me we can go, I’ll grab my stuff, go right now and-‘
‘Shh, Shh, Shh. Wait a second Princess. Yes, we can go but not tonight. I need to make sure everything is done in the house first-‘
‘House?’ She wondered and Klaus looked down, feigning embarrassment.
‘I uh…I already found us a place…I hoped I could convince you to go with me. It’s a great place in the woods in Washington state, far away from here and from your fathers reach. I will make you happy Babygirl, I promise. Just give me 2 days. 2 days and we’re gone I promise.’
‘You promise?’
‘Promise. Now let Daddy hold you before I have to go.’ He kissed her head gently, holding her firmly against his body and wishing he didn’t have to let her go. ‘First night in the house I’m holding you all night long, I will wake up with my Princess in my arms and never let you go again.’
‘I…I love you Nik.’ Y/n whispered, nuzzling into his neck to drift off with her Daddy’s arms around her tired body.
‘I love you too, Princess. You’re all mine now. Don’t you forget it.’
And she was. Klaus would never let her go now, no matter what he had to do to ensure it.
Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist
Hybrids Mafia Princess Series
#vampire#tvd klaus#hybrid#the vampire diaries#the originals#the vampire diares imagine#the originals imagine#klaus imagine#klaus x reader#klaus x y/n#klaus smut#niklaus mikaelson#niklaus imagine#klaus mikaelson#klaus mikaelson fluff#klaus mikaelson x reader#klaus mikaelson smut#klaus mikaelson imagine#yandere klaus mikaelson#yandere!klaus mikaelson#Bucky Barnes#james barnes daughter#james bucky barnes#mafia!bucky barnes#mob boss!bucky#mob boss bucky barnes#mafia bucky barnes#bucky barnes x daughter!reader#joseph morgan#Sebastian Stan
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I'm Writing Happy Little Family tonight. I'll be including various imagery in this fic, and Bucky won't look the same in every picture. Just choose the version you like best to imagine, I guess!
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It's like waking up from surgery. The smell of professionally scented, circulating air hits you first, and then a gradually increasing sense of awareness. You think you're somewhere very bright, but the more you blink your eyes, the more the brightness fades and your vision comes into focus. And ... there he is, sipping a crystal glass and looking like he's been waiting for you.
"Well hello there, sleepyhead. Welcome back."
You move your dry tongue in your mouth, trying to remember what happened. And then it hits you in waves, each one more devastating than the last:
James: He found you.
June: she's not there.
"How're you feeling, Hon?"
Windows, cabin: Shit, you're already on a plane.
"Steve. Set her down and get our girl a glass of water, will you?"
"Sure thing, boss."
And then the worst one of all. You look over and see the Winter fucking Soldier holding your baby:
They've got June.
#marvel#mcu#bucky barnes#steve rogers#fanfiction#fanfic#alpha beta omega#alpha bucky barnes#omega reader#a/b/o#omegaverse#alpha/omega#dark fanfiction#dark!fic#enemies to lovers#kid fic#mafia au#mob au#mafia bucky barnes#mob boss bucky barnes#arranged marriage#forced marriage#mates#hate to love#bingo fills#pregnancy#dark romance#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#winter soldier
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