loki would peel the orange, even if you weren’t sick.
𖤘 .ᐟˎˊ˗⋆
m!loki/gn!reader. sick!fic. no use of y/n. established relationship. self indulgent because i have the immune system of a walnut. reader just wants an orange. loki isn't the worst caretaker. gross overuse of fluff/comfort. wc: 1.1k
the morning starts out slow.
the way you like it, with nothing important on the schedule until after ten a.m.
the ease grants you the opportunity to go through your morning routine slowly, which is nice, considering that the longer you're vertical, the more it feels like you were hit by a bus during the night.
you attempt to ignore it: the lingering scratchiness in the back of your throat and the watering in your eyes. you focus instead on the breakfast you'd been excited for.
but even putting the cinnamon rolls into the oven leaves you feeling as if you need to sit down.
it's just allergies, you tell yourself.
you make it another hour, sluggishly moving about the house, before you finally give in to the temptation of bed.
you bury yourself underneath a mountain of blankets, pulling the extra quilts from the hallway closet. your body feels chilled, but every time you brush a hand against your face there's warmth.
it'll pass, you think, turning closer into your pillow.
sleep comes intermittently.
unsure of the hours, you'd blink your eyes open, thinking it's time to get up.
but you stay, curled into the bed, tangled in sheets. your head felt blurry, and your brain felt like it was wrapped in cotton.
when the door opens, it's so quiet that you're barely aware of it. you don't bother opening your eyes—you know it's loki, would know him with or without your sight.
he moves across the room slowly, with measured footsteps, as if he were aware of the pounding at the base of your skull.
he stops just shy of the bed, dropping to one knee. you shift, the barest offering of proof of life.
"i’ll get up in a moment," you mumble.
"you will not," he answers, voice firm. not disappointed. loki's hand dips underneath the blankets, stopping before he makes contact with your forehead. "can i?"
you hum your consent, then feel the press of his palm against your skin. he's always felt cooler to you, but the contrast between his skin and your skin now is even more obvious with your fever.
loki sucks a breath through his teeth. "you're burning up."
you mumble a reply, incomprehensible, nudging closer to his hand.
"why didn't you call for me?" he asks. he doesn't move away.
"you always come back," you murmur. "i'm fine. just sleepy."
in your mind, you can see loki rolling his eyes.
you feel his thumb stroke across your forehead, hear him speak something in a low voice. then you feel the coolness travel from his hand to your chest without him moving.
"feels nice," you tell him, eyelids cracking open. he's eye-level with you, not bothered by being on the floor still. you can see his brow furrowed, a classic sign of his thinking.
“you’re welcome.” he slides his fingers through your hair, gently combing through the few tangles. when he reaches the end, he starts over. "what do you need?" he asks.
you think on it for a moment.
you wanted a lot of things: for the pressure behind your eyes to ease up. to be able to breathe through your left nostril. for your body to decide between hot and cold.
you settle for something practical:
"an orange," you supply.
"an orange?" he repeats.
in another mood, one sans fever, you would comment on the rise of his eyebrow. in another mood, you would've already gone to the kitchen and perused your refrigerator for your own needs.
but your current-self was buried under a mountain of blankets, unmoved for several hours. you could hardly bear the thought of disturbing the system you had made.
you nod, sleepily, eyes fluttering shut from the effort.
there's a small tut, in response.
then the sound of him shifting, and footsteps that drift from the bedroom, to the hallway, and out of earshot.
he can't have been gone longer than five minutes—long enough for you to burrow back into your blanket pile—before reentering the room.
the smell of citrus blossoms in the bedroom.
you open your eyes again, watching as loki carries a bowl and a chair to the bedside. he sits, bowl in his lap, and your nose crinkles.
"you're gonna get sick if you sit so close."
"i thought you said you were fine?"
you make another small, grumpy noise, pulling the covers over your shoulders. loki laughs, settling into the chair until his knees nudge against the mattress.
“rise, little mortal,” he says fondly. “i brought your sustenance.”
you comply, just barely, pushing yourself into a sitting position. three quilts fall away in the process, pooling in your lap.
“ah. there you are.” loki's hair is pulled back, sleeves pushed up, and he looks completely unbothered by the disheveled look you assume you're sporting.
you hum softly, tiredly, your voice unused from a day of lying in bed. "i could've gotten an orange myself," you say.
"i know," loki replies. the patience in his voice is a tone you're not used to hearing him use—but it's practiced, like he'd been waiting to speak gently. "but i got it for you anyway. here," he says, picking up an orange slice and holding it out to you.
you take his offering, fingers brushing against his.
you notice that the bowl has enough slices to equal two oranges, each one bared of even the pith.
it's clear that loki's taken his time in preparing the bowl for you. the realization outweighs the feeling of congestion in your chest.
"thank you." it doesn't feel like enough to say, but it's all you have. you take a bite of the orange, the juice immediately filling your mouth. it's like heaven in a fruit, exactly what you needed.
"of course." loki's hand finds your thigh, giving it a small squeeze through the blankets. “scoot over.”
you open your mouth to protest, but loki speaks before you can—"my immune system is impenetrable. scoot."
you move, creating room for loki on the bed.
he climbs in, over the covers, boots already kicked off. with one hand he grabs the bowl from the bedside table, lifting his other hand in a gesture meant for you to come closer.
there's no fight left in your body.
you curl into him like you were waiting for an invitation, letting the weight of his arm blanket over you. loki crosses his ankles, leaning into the pillows at his back, making himself comfortable in the disaster of the bed.
the moment is quiet. paused.
then he lifts another slice from the bowl, offering it to you.
you accept with a sniffle, chewing and swallowing before resting your cheek against his chest. with bleary eyes, you ask where he'd gone earlier that morning.
loki replies, speaking in a quiet voice, using silver-tongued words to elaborate his mundane task of errand running.
at some point you drift off, the feeling of his fingers tracing shapes into your spine lulling you into a quiet slumber.
max is only a “talented driver” when he can drive in clear air at the front and not around any other drivers, the second he is near any other drivers and actually has to use skill to race his driving skill is zero and he is just dangerously aggressive. the fact he hasn’t had a race ban yet when multiple times he has intentionally caused crashes is so beyond btw
Summary: You're the secretary to one of the most powerful mob bosses in the country, and that's what he was supposed to stay—your boss. The heart often has other plans. Now, you're in a race against time to save the life of James Barnes, the mob boss who has become so much more.
A/N: Longer one today, just as angsty as I'm used to. I write better with the more angst I do and you can't tell me any different. As always, let me know if you have any requests or comments because I love you all! Keep those dreams alive 🤍
Warnings: mob!bucky, vioence, angst, fluff throughout (because I'm really trying here), secretary!reader, mentions of past abuse in relationship, protective bucky
Word Count: 13,122
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I have to make it. I have to.
"Come on, come on, come on," I breathe out, drumming my nails nervously against my steering wheel and peering around the car in front of me.
He's not answering his phone. I have to make it in time.
I take my lip between my teeth, the anxiety in my chest only rising as each second ticks by. Finally I swear under my breath and swerve around the car before me, slamming the gas pedal to the floor. A chorus of honks rises around me but I don't care. All I know is that he's going to die.
My boss is going to die if I don't make it.
You may be wondering to yourself, how did a meagerly-paid secretary end up breaking traffic laws and nearly crashing her boss's brand new Tesla just to get to him in time? Why would I even bother? Why would his life be in danger in the first place?
Well, to understand that, I'm going to have to take you back to where my life of crime began.
If my mother ever heard I had a life of crime, she'd kill me herself, so let's keep this one between us.
|||
2 Years Prior
"I'm sorry sir, but you don't have an appointment and Mr. Barnes is full for today," I repeat, quickly losing my ever-bearing patience with the brash business man before me.
His eyes dart around my desk and to the office of my boss, CEO James Barnes. I've only worked here for a few months and yet being his personal secretary is proving more difficult than I imagined.
"Look sweetheart, just let me through and I won't take but a few minutes of his time," the man pushes, not even sparing me a glance as he walks around my desk. I shoot to my feet and step in his way, not hearing the office door open behind me.
"You can either see yourself out, or I can have someone help you. Either way, sir, you're not seeing Mr. Barnes today." I assert, my heart pounding and blood boiling in indignation.
If there's one thing I've learned in my time working in Corporate America, it's that most rich and powerful men think they're so far above the rest of the world that they're entitled to open doors wherever they go. Thankfully, my boss is one of the better ones.
Definitely better than this tool in front of me. I almost scoff in disbelief when the man goes to step around me again.
"You don't scare me, sweetheart. I'm just gonna-"
I step directly in front of his path, my eyes flashing with anger.
"Either you leave right now, or I'll personally make sure you'll never get a time slot with my boss. And it's Ms. Y/L/N, not sweetheart" I grit out, standing my ground and leveling my glare at the man.
"Who do you think you-"
I feel the warmth of his presence before he even says a word.
"Do you feel a need for career-suicide, or are you just incompetent?" A dark, rough voice sounds behind me, cutting off the business man.
As my boss steps beside me, the heat of his presence washes over me and I don't even need to look over to know that his menacing face is on display. I can see it's impact in the business man's sudden desire to leave.
"Uh, I-I am so sorry sir. I'll be on my way."
As he scurries to the elevator, I feel my cheeks heat as I look over at James. His dark hair is cut short but is left long enough to be perfectly messy. His bright blue eyes are already piercing into my exhausted ones.
"Sorry for the commotion, sir. I'll try to handle them quicker next time," I start, but my nerves are lessened by the slightly impressed look upon James' features.
"I've never seen you get angry before," my boss notes, making more heat crawl up my neck.
"Yeah well, I used to let everyone use me as their doormat, but I don't let people walk all over me anymore." I respond with half of a laugh. He hums at that, his eyes trained on me.
I break the contact first, turning around suddenly to my desk to avoid the way his eyes seem to burn the air between us to nothing.
"Miss Y/L/N, can I have a word with you in my office?" He speaks again after a few agonizing moments of silence. My hands freeze and I slowly turn around to find his gaze inquisitive.
"Of course, boss" I reply, clasping my hands together to hide the way they tremble slightly. James Barnes is quite possibly the most terrifying person I've ever met, and yet the more time I spend in this job the less he scares me.
When follow his gesture to walk before him to his office, he slips his hand to the small of my back as I enter and I swear my skin sets on fire. I hurry away from his touch and into a chair as fast as I can. There's a slight hint of amusement upon his features as he settles back in his massive chair, eying me from across the desk.
"Is...is everything alright, sir?" I question after a minute of the thick silence. He sits straighter at this, leaning his forearms on his desk and clasping his hands together.
"Do you have a criminal record, Miss Y/L/N?"
His question startles me so much that it takes me a moment to respond.
"I'm...sorry?" I question, not understanding where this is going.
"Anything at all," James continues as if I didn't say a word, "Petty theft, aggravated assault, murder-"
"Sir I definitely don't have a criminal record," I cut in, my heart beginning to increase in speed. James nods, his blue eyes pinning me to the spot.
"Good, that makes you unsuspecting," he states, only heightening my confusion, "In order for you to be of best use, not to mention safe, it's best if you know exactly what it is that I do."
I sit completely dumbstruck and left with no response at all. My mouth opens and closes as I search for words, but I can't seem to find any.
"You've got a backbone and you're an honest, hard worker. That, you've proven. And, against my better judgement," Barnes pauses, his gaze taking on a somewhat softer, almost vulnerable gaze, "I trust you, Y/N."
My heart leaps into my throat and something stirs within me when he says that...that word. Y/N. My name. He said my name for the first time since he hired me. I don't know why it has such an effect on me, but it does.
Before I can stop myself, I blurt "I trust you too."
I do? When did I make that decision? And why did I just say it out loud?
Something in my boss's face shifts at my words, but he masks it with his usual cool, calm demeanor. He sits again in silence for a moment, taking in me and my response before he nods.
"The business I run is more lucrative than what the surface shows. I need someone on my side on the surface level, an associate who can assist me in matters at this office."
"This office?" I repeat, my brows furrowing together as my heart begins to race again. What does he mean by lucrative? And why is there excitement bubbling in my gut?
What he says next would change my life forever.
"I'm the White Wolf, Y/N." my boss's low voice rumbles, his eyes bright and clear, "I'm the-"
"King of organized crime, ruler of the New York mob," I interrupt, my eyes wide and my entire being not comprehending what's happening. I should leave. I should quit this job and call the police and leave. I should be terrified. But there's something in those eyes...
What I say next would start that life of crime I mentioned earlier, and quite frankly I still don't fully understand where it came from within me.
"Sure," I simply say, and the shock that splays on James' face must mirror my own.
"Sure as in..." he trails off, waiting for me to elaborate and clarify what we both know I mean. I swallow down my nerves and go with the decision my entire head is screaming against but my entire gut yells louder for.
"I'm in," I say, this time with more confidence, "Like I said before, I trust you. And I get the feeling you'd kill me if I said no."
Humor traipses across his features as he sits back in his chair in surprise. He plays with the ring in his finger, nodding slightly to me.
"That went better than planned," he murmurs, and I don't know why but I feel like smiling. My entire body is buzzing and my head is swimming, but something deep inside of me is waking up.
I've been walked all over my entire life. That's just the way it's been. I didn't know the difference between being nice and being a doormat for people's convenience until I was well into my life. As much as I hate to admit it, there's something about James Barnes that I trust, there has been since the day I met him. I felt it pull deep in my soul and now, knowing what he does and who he is...
It's time I control my fate, time that I grab my destiny and force it into motion. It's time that I stop letting people walk all over me and be the person who has a voice and a say and...and power. I've heard of the White Wolf as long as he's been around. He may be ruthless but he is not cruel. He's always looked out for the city, taken the scum off the streets and done the things the politicians refuse to. I trust James. And something deep within me is shouting that this is right, that this my destiny, that this is the strings of fate pulling.
And I know when to listen.
"Welcome, Ms. Y/L/N," James announces, standing and keeping his gaze burning down on mine, "To the real business."
|||
Seven months later.
One night, about seven months after the conversation that absolutely changed my life, I'm working overtime in the office.
My hands are dug into my hair and my eyes droop closed. I release my hold on my hair to knock back the last of an energy drink, but the liquid has little effect. I desperately read through the computer screen, hoping to solve the legal entanglement before me.
James informed me when I came into work this morning that some over-righteous beat-cop was looking too much into the business we hide behind our Property Management company. I've been here all day long trying to figure out how to file all the necessary forms to make this disappear and seem a joke. That's taken longer than I expected, though, and at nearly midnight, James and I are still here working.
"God, this is awful," I groan, dropping my head to rest on my arms upon my desk, my forehead seeping in the cool of the wood. I hear my boss's office door open but don't even bother moving. Eventually, a soft laugh sounds that makes me drag my head up and look over to its origin.
"You look absolutely pitiful" James comments, his tired eyes dancing with a humor that seeps into my own features slowly. A small smile tugs at my lips as I sit up fully.
"Thanks, that's what I was going for," I quip sarcastically.
He coughs out a laugh that makes my chest tighten slightly and some of the exhaustion part. Over the months working for the White Wolf of crime, we've become...friends. Well, as close to friends as a mob boss and his secretary can get.
"Come on, let's take a break. We've been at this for too long, I don't even know how you can think straight," James mentions. I shake my head, blinking a few times before turning back to the computer screen.
"No, I've almost got this loophole figured out and we'll be golden if I can just-" I'm cut off abruptly by a strong, calloused hand gently gripping my chin and turning it up so I'm looking at James. My heart gallops suddenly and it takes every ounce of strength to keep my composure against the charge coursing through me.
"Y/N, take a break," he mumbles so soft that a shiver runs down my spine. We stay locked like that for a moment until I nod and pull myself out of his grip by standing.
"Alright" I murmur, breaking the tense, charged moment by pointing a finger at him.
"But if you bring out alcohol on the job, so help me James Barnes I'll turn you in to the police myself," I threaten emptily. He laughs genuinely this time, and it warms my spirit.
"Come on, doll. I've got an idea" he urges, walking out to the massive open save before my desk. I eye him warily and step to it, hoping that the sudden skittering and tripping of my heart at that nickname doesn't show. He's never called me anything but my name, before. Now, it's almost too easy to forget that I work for him.
"You might wanna take your heels off," he suggests, which only heightens my confusion. Nonetheless, I slip the footwear off and walk barefoot in my pant suit to my boss.
"Should I be concerned?" I ask, bringing another humored glint to those beautiful steel eyes.
"No," Barnes says simply, my eyes darting to his forearms as he rolls up the sleeves of his button-up, "I've actually been meaning to do this for a while. You're working for me in a very dangerous business, and although your involvement is kept a secret, I want you to be able to defend yourself if anything goes wrong."
His words settle over me heavily as I shrug my close-tailored suit jacket off and lay it on my desk. This is actually a smart idea. I sure don't want to be helpless should the time come and, lets be honest, it inevitably will.
"Okay," I reply, walking warily in front of my boss who's practically made of muscle, "Teach me."
Something dark floods his eyes that he blinks away quickly before holding his hands up in a fighting position, gesturing for me to do so. I oblige, putting my fists up in the best way I can. He walks over to me, slowly taking a few steps around my body to inspect my stance.
"Not bad," Barnes announces before stepping close to my side and placing those large hands against my torso and turning it slightly, "There, like that you can use the power you have against someone who might have a lot more than you."
His touch muddles my mind and I can't help but feel that his burning hands linger for a second longer than necessary before he steps away and back in front of me. Even as he does, I instantly feel like I'm missing something without his warmth. It's been that way since I began working here, though. Every little touch here and there has gotten me irrevocably addicted to the feel of him.
I'm so startled by the thought that it almost shows on my face. That train of thinking is...is highly unprofessional.
"Now, punch me" he orders. I hesitate, but don't lower my fists.
That's also unprofessional, and yet look at us.
"Are you sure?" I ask, and he simply nods. I shrug, "Alright then."
I throw the best punch I've got, but he dodges it easily and grabs my fist in his hand. Before I know what's happening, his leg hooks around my vulnerable one that I stepped with and he throws the momentum of my punch back at me so that I crash to the ground. I know that if he'd done that little move fully my back would've slammed into the ground along with my skull. Instead, he follows me to the ground and wraps an arm around my waist, breaking my fall and easing me to the ground as he hovers above me.
I know he means to say something, but words must die for him too when the all too small space between our bodies is realized. I can barely breathe and it's as if time itself has stopped. I watch his fingers flex on the floor by my head, almost as if he's going to reach out to me but chooses against it. All too soon, the moment is broken when James stands and extends a hand down to me. I take it and let him pull me up to standing, disappointment and relief mingling in my stomach.
"That move can save your life, especially against someone bigger than you." James says, a little bit more distantly than he was before.
I thank him quietly and watch him clear his throat and walk back to his office. He pauses when he reaches the door and looks back over at me.
"Y/N, I want you home in an hour tops." He orders. I nod, still slightly breathless.
"And if I stay longer?" I taunt, not even knowing where the words come from. He tilts his head at me, a challenging gaze taking over.
"Then I'll throw you over my shoulder and walk you out myself."
I almost think he means it from the mischief lingering in his gaze.
Sure enough, I go home an hour later.
|||
Five months later
It wasn't until about a year after I joined in on the mob business that I realized how well I was beginning to know James.
And how much more he was becoming to me.
"Y/N, can you get me-"
I cut off my boss by setting down two steaming coffee cups.
"Two triple espressos with low fat cream," I announce, before fishing the folder out from underneath my arm and setting it on the desk before him, "And the monthly finance report. The guys in finance weren't finished when I came by yesterday, so I made sure they had it done for this morning's meeting."
James stares up at me in shock for a moment. That shock is still lingering when he says, "And the meeting schedule?"
"Already in your computer, I emailed it to you last night. I also sent it out to everyone who's coming and made sure to tell Mr. Martinelli 10:30 instead of 11:00 so he arrives on time." I respond, clasping my hands before me and giving my boss a light smile.
"Oh," I exclaim, turning around suddenly and picking up the package I left by his door, "And this gift basket came with a heartfelt apology from Mr. Lankov. It did have an assortment of toffee-filled chocolates which I went ahead and removed for you."
Mr. Barnes reaches over and slides the basket I set down on his desk towards himself before looking up at me. He looks almost impressed, which is high praise enough.
"Will that be all, Mr. Barnes?" I ask when he just stares at me for another minute. I feel my entire body burning under his gaze and, as usual, the air is thick and palpable whenever we're in a room alone. His gaze hardens again into the cold, meticulous mob boss he is and he nods once
"That'll be all, thank you Ms. Y/L/N."
I nod and turn to walk out only to be stopped by his voice calling out to me again.
"Y/N?" James announces, making me turn to him again. I don't know what I expect him to say, but it certainly isn't what comes from him, "I think you are too close of a friend to be calling me James and Mr. Barnes by now."
My heart stutters, but I keep the emotion that surges from his words from splaying all across my face. He considers me a close friend, not just his secretary. When did it ever become more?
When did I ever convince myself it wasn't more.
"What would you like me to call you?" I ask, and the question seems all too formal. The corner of his lips tug up and the movement makes my stomach flip.
"Most of the people closest to me just call me Bucky," he informs, and a rush thrills my entire body as I nod and try to keep my smile small.
"If you need anything else let me know, Bucky." I reply, and something darkens in his gaze.
I'm frozen for another moment, his stare binding me to where I am. Phantom electricity skitters across my limbs and I realize how much I have to restrain myself from walking closer to him. It's almost as if he's the Earth and I'm the moon, caught in his gravity and unable to pull away, All at once I come to my senses and leave his office quicker than usual. I make sure the door is shut behind me before I press my back up against the cool surface.
My heart is pounding in my chest. That was too personal, that was all too personal and wildly unprofessional. Nothing that was said was but the way he looked at me, the way I melted in my spot at that gaze. It was all consuming, and I didn't think I could breathe in that room. He's a mob boss, my mob boss, and I'm his secretary. James...Bucky is naturally a brooding, intense sort of person so the way he looked at me wasn't unusual. The way my entire being reacted was.
And he's so much more than my boss, no matter how much I may try to ignore it.
As the day goes by, I try to rationalize it all. In the end, I know everything there is to know about him—what he likes and dislikes, his routines, his daily patterns. It's my job to, but he doesn't know that about me.
If he did he'd know that today is my...
I think that same thing over and over to comfort myself that everything is normal and okay, but it only just makes a part of me sink. It's almost as if the thought that I'm not more to him has the potential to break me.
You can only be broken by things that hold you.
I'm jarred from that thought when Bucky's voice sounds over my business phone speaker.
"Y/N, my office" He says simply, his voice holding that natural authority and sharp edge that it usually has.
I get up and am walking into his office moments later. Once I'm inside, I take notice that Bucky's hard at work on some document before him and doesn't even spare me a glance until the door clicks shut behind me. At this sound, he looks up and sets down his pen. He stands slowly and adjusts the cuffs of his suit jacket. That small movement sends my entire body into a downward spiral.
"You tried to hide something from me, Y/N," Bucky rumbles, and my stomach hits the floor.
I did? What did I try to hide?
"Sir, I'm not entirely sure what-"
My word die out as he stalks around his desk and up to me. My entire body is trembling, but not from fear, when he stops before me and stares at me so deeply that I feel like he's taken my heart straight from my chest with his bare hands. I'm not so sure he hasn't.
"It was a valiant effort, really," he muses, and I still have no idea what he's talking about, "But even if I only know you half as well as you know me, there was no way you could've hidden it."
My brows are furrowed when he finally reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out an envelope.
"Happy birthday, Y/N," My boss whispers, and the moment feels all too intimate as he hands me the envelope.
He knew it was my birthday. That thought sends a thrill through me that I wish I could forget. I look down at the envelope and back up at Bucky who stares at me with the hint of a genuine smile on his lips.
"You didn't have to..." I whisper, but he gives me a 'really' sort of look.
"You do everything for me, and I'm pretty sure my world would fall apart without you. Now open it."
That only makes my heart race harder and I can't keep away my smile as I open the envelope. Everything seems to fade away when I pull out what's inside. There's no card, just a single slip of paper. When I flip that paper over, I realize that I'm in love with him.
Because it's a round-trip ticket to Kinsale, Ireland. A place I mentioned only once months ago that I've always wanted to go to.
I look up at him, my eyes wide and already filling with tears that I refuse to let go.
"How did you know?" I breathe.
"You said it was one of your dreams to go, and it's hard to forget when you speak about something so passionately." Bucky's reply softer than I've ever heard him be.
I've seen him kill people, torture criminals, and threaten politicians. I've seen him command his mob and rule with certainty and ruthlessness. And yet here he is, giving me one of my dreams because I mentioned it once.
I love him. I know it then, and I don't think I'll ever escape it. I've loved before, but never has it felt like this. This is encompassing and devouring and scary. It's real and deep and world-shifting. How much in love I realize I am with him is the kind of love I never thought I'd get. And yet...
I know it's unprofessional, but I can't stop from stepping forward and getting on my tip toes to wrap my arms around his neck in a sudden hug. He freezes, and for a moment I wonder how long it's been since he's been hugged. Bucky gives in almost instantly and wraps his strong arms around my torso, tugging me closer to him. I decide in this moment that this is my favorite place to be. Kinsale might have been one of my dream places, but this, in his arms, has just as quickly topped the list.
All too quickly I realize the intimacy of this position and pull away, no matter how much it leaves me feeling cold and alone.
"Thank you," I whisper, clearing my throat and taking a step back, "No one's ever done anything like this for me before."
Bucky just stares at me with that all-encompassing gaze.
"Then they're all idiots," he murmurs, and my traitorous heart surges again.
This man is my boss. He's the most powerful person in this city and the last thing he'll do is care about someone as powerless as me. And yet...and yet, and yet, and yet. I can't stop.
|||
Eleven months later.
Eleven months later and I'm still just as totally screwed.
I can't stop the feelings that bubble through me, that take me over and encompass everything I am and hoped I could escape. I tried convincing myself he was nothing, tried to fall for someone else, anyone else, but I can't.
James Bucky Barnes is intoxicating in the most wonderful and awful way. And I can't quit him.
That's why I'm here at Angel's Fall, the bar every corporate associate and beat cop or detective in our slice of town finds themselves at after work. I haven't been in a while, not much liking the smell or taste of alcohol, but after spending nearly ten straight hours with Bucky that serve as a reminder that I'll never have him, I needed to take the edge off.
"Anything else I can get for you, babes?" The bartender asks as she takes a stop in front of me, giving me a friendly smile. I return the gesture and let out a long sigh, finishing out the last of my whiskey sour.
"Scotch, straight," I request, giving her a tired smile, "Thanks."
"Sure thing," she replies, instantly beginning to make my drink, "You seem like you've had a long day."
I scoff, running a hand through the hair that I freed from my low bun, "Long few months."
"That bad, huh? Well I'll keep these going till you say when, sweetie," she replies, sliding my drink to me. I give her another quiet thanks before she leaves to her job.
"Y/N? Y/N is that you?"
I furrow my brows, not putting the voice to a face. I turn towards the sound of the man to find him standing beside me. Once my eyes land on his features, my entire being runs cold. Instantly what little alcohol I had in my system sobers out and my blood freezes in my veins. It's as if I've been dunked in ice water and I find it hard to draw in breath.
"Ian. It's been ages" I comment, my voice thankfully not trembling like I expected it to be. Ian laughs before me, leaning on the bar and drinking me in with his eyes. I squirm under his gaze, which only serves to make me uncomfortable.
"Damn right," he comments, smirking at me lazily with that smile that wrecked my life nearly three years ago, "I've missed you, baby."
I bristle at the nickname, my heart flinching even if my body doesn't. I know he's probably missed me, I had to move to a new state to escape him the first time. I thought I'd done good, too. I'd gotten settled here for a while and then worked my way up to a job at Bucky's company. The past almost two years in Bucky's business have been so good for me that I almost forgot my life before it, the reason why I was so ready to take on the life of organized crime.
The reason stands before me, proof that our demons never die. They just hide away until we're vulnerable again.
"What are you doing in New York?" I ask, trying to make polite small talk and avoid the obvious elephant in the room.
The elephant being that the last time I saw him, I smashed a lamp over his head before I scrambled out of his apartment and to the nearest cab that whisked me far far away, leaving behind all of my belongings except for a wad of twenties and my cellphone.
"I got a transfer to a firm a few blocks from here not too long ago. God, you look great Y/N," Ian averts. He says my name again, almost as if he can't believe I'm standing before him. I nod, wringing my wrists and shoving my forgotten drink away from me.
"That's great, Ian." I keep it simple, knowing that if I talk too much I'll lose myself again. I spend my mental energy searching the thickening crowd of people for a way out. I even consider signaling the bartender that I need an escape.
I'm barred from my thoughts when his hand, a hand I'll never forget, skims over my arm. I jerk my attention back to him, ripping my arm away from him as fast as I can and taking a step back.
"Woah, calm down baby. No need to be so jumpy" Ian placates, that same easy, manipulative smile that would bring me crawling right back to him every time stretching across his features. It makes my blood turn to ice and my stomach roil.
"Do not touch me," I command, surprised at the strength in my tone. It's a strength I didn't have before I got this job, "You lost that right long ago."
Ian's shock is not easily hidden. He realizes in that instant that I'm not the same girl I was three years ago when he broke me and used me and ruled my emotions. I've grown and gotten stronger because someone saw the potential in me to handle power with ease, to be a part of something bigger and stronger than anything I'd been in before. It may shatter me to be around Bucky every day, but he still saved my life in ways he'll never know.
I used to see the world as good and evil, black and white. Now, after my work in the mafia, I know it's gray. There's evil in the good and good in the evil. No one is ever truly both, and sometimes the ones you think are the villains are truly the heroes.
"I-" Ian cuts himself off with a surprised laugh, his eyes incredulous upon me, "I'm sorry, when did you convince yourself of that lie?"
"What lie?" I grit out, and I almost slap myself for indulging him. I'm quickly unhinging, though, and I know that if I stay in this conversation much longer I'll break back into a remnant of who I was. I try to swallow my bile at the thought. I refuse to do that.
"The lie that you're strong. The lie that you can survive in your own, the lie that you'll be anything or anyone without me," Ian seethes, his words sickly sweet like unsuspecting poison. His words cut me so deep that I almost shatter right there as old wounds I thought had scarred over rip open. Instead, I remind myself of the strength and control I've garnered these last two years working for Bucky Barnes.
And then I slap my ex so hard across the face that my hand stings.
"I am not some helpless little girl that's still in love with you," I grit out, my tone sharper than I've ever heard it before, "You broke me once, you are not going to do it again."
His shocked eyes are so wide upon me that I almost don't register his hand raising to strike me back until my head whips hard to the side and pain explodes across my cheek. When I snap my gaze back to him, my eyes brimming with tears of rage and instability, I see him open his mouth to say something. His words don't make it out.
Not before the crowd of patrons splits and a hand closes around Ian's throat so fast and with such force that his back is slammed into the bar.
Oh, I must've forgotten to mention this before. The Angel's Fall is one of the bars the White Wolf owns.
And here the wolf is himself.
I'm so shocked by Bucky's sudden intrusion that I'm left speechless as his grip tightens on Ian's throat and he brings his face that's flooded with an icy rage close to Ian's clearly terrified one. No one lifts a finger to protest or stop my boss, because they all know who this place belongs to.
"You touch her again and I'll kill you," Bucky growls lowly, and Ian is smart enough to believe him as he nods quickly.
Something warm and bright twists in my chest at his words, even when I know any normal person would be screaming or calling the cops. I've never seen Bucky like this before, not about me at least. About his business, sure. But not me.
"When I let go, you're going to leave this bar and this city," my boss commands, his tone leaving no room for negotiation, "If I ever see you again, I will not hesitate to slit your throat."
Ian whimpers, a sound that I hadn't realized would bring me so much wicked joy, a sound that satisfies the thirst for vengeance that I hadn't even realized I held.
"Now, thank me for my mercy and apologize to Ms. Y/L/N," Bucky orders, his grip loosening enough on Ian's airways to let him gasp out the commanded words.
Once he does, Bucky lets him go. His hand isn't off of Ian's neck for two seconds before my ex-boyfriend is scurrying out of the bar. The noises resume as usual, everyone carrying on as if a man's life was not just threatened. Bucky turns his gaze, still filled with that icy rage, towards me and it softens in a way that melts me.
"Are you okay?" He asks.
I avoid the question completely, hoping he'll forget to inquire about it again.
"Thanks for that," I manage out, ignoring the burning of my now very tender cheek, "I honestly thought I had it under control but then I just had to go and slap him."
"That gives him no right to lay a hand on you," Bucky asserts, taking a step closer to me and running a gentle, calloused hand over my hurt cheek. The simple motion sends electricity surging through my entire body and I somehow feel empty when he clenches his jaw and drops his hand.
"You didn't answer my question. Are you okay?" Bucky asks again, not taking a step back.
My heart is pounding and my body is overrun with so many different emotions that I don't know what to focus on or how to stop it all. I may be looking directly into those steel blue eyes, but I'm miles and years away. Memories of Ian and a version of me I often try to forget flash through my mind and I can't stop them.
"Who said you could parade yourself around like a whore when you are mine?" Ian growls out, making me flinch back and wrap an arm around my torso.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
My head whips to the side with the force of his hand. The sting sets in with the silence for a few moments, suffocating me and drowning me in my own pain. Then I hear him sigh and walk up to me, his hands now gentle as he turns my face up to his.
"Baby, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry, baby. I didn't mean to do that, can you forgive me?" His words are sweet and his eyes genuinely sad. I look up at him warily and almost pull away when that breathtaking smile tugs onto his lips.
"For me, baby? I promise I'll never lay a hand on you again. I don't deserve you"
"Okay" I whisper, letting him kiss my lips and then the cheek that he'd hit again and again and again and as long as I'd keep forgiving him.
I don't even realize I'm not at the bar anymore until there's a soft click of a door behind me and I register a warm, strong hand encasing my own as Bucky leads me into what looks to be an office in the back of the bar.
I hadn't even realized I'd zoned out. I haven't done that in...in a very long time.
He lets go of my hand only to capture my face in his surprisingly gentle hold. When my eyes meet his, everything seems to quiet in the blue of his irises. Still, my mind is aching to send me back to three years ago, to broken bottles and shattered hearts patched with false kisses and pretty words.
"You're safe," Bucky assures, his face softer than I've ever seen it, "You're safe and you're here. I don't know where you went just now but I need you to come back to me, okay?"
Bucky's soothing voice brings me back to reality and grounds me to the moment until all that's left is this room and him and me.
"That's it, there you go, doll. Stay right here with me," he breathes, making my heart flutter. We stand in silence like that for a few moments that stretch for eternity, with his thumbs running across my cheeks until the consciousness returns to my gaze.
"You gonna tell me what happened?" Bucky asks, taking a step back and pulling his hands from my face. I almost make a noise of protest at the loss of contact, but stop myself. Instead, I just shrug.
"It was nothing, really. Just an ex of mine who doesn't know boundaries," I respond, but I can tell that he doesn't buy a word of it.
Bucky takes a slow step towards me again. This time when I tilt my head up to keep his gaze, something tender and almost tangible crackles in the air between us, tugging and pulling and yanking us together. In the steel of his eyes is a dichotomy of emotions, ranging from a breaking softness to a stifled rage that I don't think is directed at me. It sends shivers racing down my spine.
"Y/N," he starts, and my knees almost turn weak at that one utterance, "I think you're not telling me because you know what I'll do. But I need you to understand something before you leave this room and we go back to our daily routine."
One of his hands hooks under my chin, and his thumb grazes ever so lightly over my lip and so swiftly that I almost think I imagined it.
"I don't care who I have to kill or what I have to do. I will do anything if it means protecting you. Anything." He vows, that rage still lit in his eyes. But when I look closer, it seems to be fueled by something so much deeper, so much richer.
I don't know why the words slip past my lips but it does before my mind can stop them.
"Ian manipulated me for years," my voice is trembling and unsure and so unlike every other time I've spoken with him, "He'd use me as his punching bag and then cry on his knees for me. I was stupid then, I always came crawling back. It wasn't until this job that I learned to stand up for myself."
Bucky's entire body is as rigid as a board and I know that look in his eyes. It's the look that appears when he grows unhinged and closer to losing himself to the rage and carnal violence. His jaw clenches and he seems to compose himself.
"What do you want me to do to him?"
It's a simple question, but in his eyes I can see what Bucky wants to do. I can see it as clear as day and it sets my entire being on fire. I choke up, though, because as much as I want to open my mouth and ask for him to kill him, I can't seem to. He sees my hesitancy and nods, taking a step back from me and adjusting his suit.
"Just let me know, Y/N," Bucky states, sounding more professional again as he turns and heads towards his office door.
A sudden sense of urgency overtakes me and I dart forward, grabbing a gentle but insistent hold of his arm that makes Bucky freeze and turn back to me. His arm is in my grasp and I realize that I'm holding on to it for a sense of stability as I try to get the words out. I think he realizes it too because Bucky lets me hold his arm, his eyes boring into mine and that professionalism dropping for a moment. I open my mouth, but close it again, my entire being trembling as flashes of every horror I endured with Ian overtake me.
"I want him gone," I finally manage out, my voice barely more than a whisper, "Please,"
Bucky's eyes search my face for a moment before a certain softness overtakes his gaze. I can see in his eyes that he knows exactly what I mean, even if I can't say the words out loud. He pulls his arm from my grasp only to take a hold of my hand and bring it to his lips. My heart nearly explodes from my chest when he places a kiss to the top of my hand. My skin is ignited where his lips touched it and I almost can't think straight.
God, I'm so in love him. I love him so much it hurts.
"Done." Bucky vows, his eyes never leaving mine.
Ian's mutilated body turned up in an alleyway the next morning.
|||
Two weeks later
I don't know how everything could have gone so wrong only a few weeks later. It all just happened so fast.
"Yes sir, the catering should arrive about 7:00 pm...yes sir, thank you sir. See you then,"
Once the phone is hung up, I take the pen from behind my ear and check off the catering company from my list of gala preparations. In just a few days, the company is going to be holding its annual Employee and Beneficiary Gala. My last few days have been consumed with making sure it runs seamlessly.
"Excuse me, miss. I have a 3:15 with Mr. Barnes." A man's voice I don't recognize calls out to me.
I look up from my paper, smiling warm at the business man who stands before me. My smile falls slightly when I see that he doesn't seem all too happy at the moment, but I set it aside.
"Yes, Mr..." I pause, looking over at my computer screen and scanning for his name, "Stark?"
"That's me." Mr. Stark responds.
"Alright. I'll let Mr. Barnes know that you're here and you should be right in," I inform, giving the man a polite nod before calling Bucky. While I inform him that his appointment is here, I can't help the uneasiness in my chest at Mr. Stark's grave expression.
"You can go on in," I inform once I get off the phone, giving the man a quick smile before turning back to my work, my entire being crawling for some reason.
The meeting's normal for the first few minutes, but pretty quickly their voices begin to raise.
"You need to be careful, Barnes! Pierce and his men are looking for any in to attack our organization."
Alexander Pierce, that's the boss of Bucky's largest rival—Hydra.
"Trust me, Stark. I am careful and perfectly capable of taking care of my business." Bucky grits back. I lift my hands off my keyboard, my attention slipping to listening to the words.
"No, you're not, you're being reckless. You're getting too close and you know it! She is a weakness!" Stark practically shouts. I hear a sudden screech of chair legs on the floor and a brief silence.
Whatever is said next is too hushed for me to hear, but I'm able to catch the last few words.
"I'll take care of it. You know I will," Bucky says, and the office door opens.
"I know you will, buddy. I just needed to get you there," Stark replies, shaking Bucky's hand before turning and walking past my desk without so much of a glance.
"Have a nice day to you too," I whisper beneath my breath.
"Ms. Y/L/N, my office" Bucky says abruptly from his office. His tone seems...almost cold, unfeeling. And he called me Ms. Y/L/N.
With furrowed brows, I get up and make my way into his office, closing the door behind me per his request. I settle down in one of the chairs before his massive desk, an inexplicable worry washing over me. Nonetheless, I ignore the feeling and carry on as normal. Thinking this to be one of the many previous briefings we've had on the gala, I begin to give him my report.
"The catering company is all set for Saturday as is the decorating committee and half-orchestra. All that's left is to-"
"I'm letting you go." Bucky interrupts suddenly, his voice so nonchalant and his gaze so flippantly down on the papers before him that I almost don't register his words.
As in...he's...firing me?
"I'm...sorry?" I question, to which his jaw clenches tightly.
"You are formerly fired, Ms. Y/L/N. Effective immediately," Bucky clarifies, and it feels as though the floor's been ripped out from underneath me.
I can barely breathe let alone hear over the sudden roaring in my ears. He's firing me, after all this time?
"Bucky, I don't-"
"Sir," he interrupts, finally snapping his gaze up to mine. His tone and glare are so ferocious that I almost think he'll pull a gun on me anytime soon.
That one simple correction makes my heart shatter. He hasn't been 'sir' in I don't even know how long. And the way he's looking at me right now...it's almost like he couldn't loathe anyone more in the moment. Like he doesn't even know me. Like he didn't just kill a man for me.
Like he didn't let me fall in love with him.
Tears burn my eyes as I steel my face and straighten up in the chair, clenching my hands so hard together in my lap that they turn white.
"Sir," the word is bitter on my tongue and I feel sick to my stomach more so than I ever have, "May I ask why?"
"Your work is sloppy and your intentions with my business, both legal and not, are undecipherable. I have decided that the best intention for me and my business is to part ways irrevocably with you, Ms. Y/L/N."
It takes everything within me to not let my mouth drop open in shock. The hurt that flashes through me is so piercing and raw and real that it arrests my chest. I can't...I don't know what I did wrong.
"You're just going to let me walk away," I breathe, my jaw clenched tightly, "With everything I know about you and your mob. You've killed people for less."
His cold, calculating eyes study me for a minute before he leans back in his chair, his features the picture of nonchalance.
"You won't tell anyone. You and I both know I wouldn't hesitate to kill everyone you love and then you." Bucky informs blatantly.
That's when my heart splinters. Because I can see in his eyes that he means every single word. Emotion blocks my throat as I simply stare back at him, no longer working to hide my shock or pain. I nod once and I stand, smoothing out my silk blouse.
"I've lost everyone I love, you're out of luck there."
The lie burns so strongly on my tongue that it nearly makes me physically sick. I say it to make it true, to trick my mind and heart into believing it. I should hate him. I should loathe him with every fiber of my being. But I just...can't.
With tears that I refuse to let fall swimming in my eyes, I stare down at the man who changed my life, who stole my heart and is now breaking it.
"Whatever it is that you've been relentlessly pursuing these past years, whether it's power or money or blood," I whisper, not daring to bring my voice above it for fear that it will shake, "I hope you find it."
Bucky's gaze bores into mine, something unreadable that's nearly akin to conflict flashing through his eyes. Without a word, I turn and leave, stopping only at my desk to grab my things before leaving. Leaving this office, leaving the mob, leaving him.
And as I drive home with silent tears streaking down my cheeks, I can't ignore the gaping, pain-filled hole in my heart. I hadn't realized how much I needed that business, that man. But I have to move on. I have to.
And yet, I have this awful feeling that I'm not going to be able to.
|||
A few days later
It's the day of the gala, and it's all I can do to keep myself composed.
I've been an emotional wreck the last few days, and as much as I've tried to deny it I can't any longer. I'm in love with Barnes, I have been for a while and as bad as I want it to, it's not just going to go away. Losing the job was like losing Bucky, and I hadn't realized how much I leaned on him until he was ripped away.
"Oh come on, you stupid computer," I grumble, shoving my laptop aside as it launches into an update I didn't ask for.
When I woke up today, I decided it was time I start looking for another job. No matter how much it hurts, I have to move on if I have any chance of continuing on with my life. I was job searching when this piece of junk laptop started to reboot.
My attention is glued to my television and the show I have playing while I wait for my laptop to finish the update. I get so engrossed in the show that I almost miss it when the screen goes bright and it turns back on.
"Finally," I breathe, pulling it back to me and typing in my password.
As soon as it opens to my desktop, my laptop begins to pop up a bunch of random windows from my most used apps, just like it usually does whenever it's powered down and back up suddenly. I close them out with mild irritation, but freeze when my spreadsheet window opens up, displaying the spreadsheet I was working on last.
The guest list for the gala.
My heart stutters. I'd done so good all of today avoiding thoughts of the event only for my stupid laptop to bring it to the forefront of my mind. My heart wrenches as I can't stop myself from scrolling briefly through the list of invited guests. Near the end, I notice my name and stifle the sudden rise of emotions that inundate me.
With hasty, almost frantic fingers, I rush to delete my name from the sheet. Before I can erase my name, my eyes catch on four names at the bottom below mine. Strange. My name was the last one added. I know because I edited and set up this spreadsheet and only added myself when I had double and triple checked that everyone had been added.
Maybe Bucky found four more to invite. I try to accept the thought, but my curiosity takes the better of me and I can't stop myself from pulling up the internet on another window and searching up the first of the four names.
Xavier Taft. 34 years old, works for a bouncer service...wait. Criminal record.
My heart stutters again. With events like this, we're always so careful to keep the criminals down to only our own, and I've never seen this man's name in our regiment before. With furrowed brows, I search up the next one.
Lance Salone. Bouncer. Criminal record.
My heart is racing when I search the third.
Amanda Vice. No criminal record.
I frown, my adrenaline seizing a little bit. Maybe I was too hasty, maybe those two were just-
Oh my God.
My entire body freezes when I notice an article underneath Amanda Vice's search. She's a personal assistant, like me. But she works for Pierce Enterprises, the cover business for-
"Hydra," I whisper beneath my breath, feeling as though someone's taken the world and spun it around me.
With trembling fingers, I navigate back to the spreadsheet and look to the fourth name. I don't even need to search it up to know.
Alexander Pierce.
My heart is in my throat as I fly my cursor up to the top of my spreadsheet and check to see the editing history. My eyes scan the hundreds of entries by me until they rest in the last entry, one done by an email I don't recognize.
One I never gave permission to edit the document.
"They hacked it," I piece together aloud. Nothing seems real as I throw my laptop off of me and shoot to my feet, the world still spinning. The two bouncers, obvious muscle with the clear ability to kill.
I know I should hate Bucky, I know that I shouldn't give a damn what will go down tonight at the gala, but I can't stop myself from reaching for my phone and dialing the number I saved to my phone of the weapons dealer Bucky's mob used. The man I spoke with on Bucky's behalf many a times picks up on the third ring.
"Y/N. I haven't heard your voice in so long, how are you?" the dealer, a man by the name Nick Fury, asks.
"Nick, this is going to sound so random but I need to know if there's been any movement from Pierce or his men in the last week or so," I rush out. There's a beat of silence on the other end before Nick speaks again.
"What's this about? I thought Bucky fired you," he points out skeptically. My desperation is taking the better of me and I nearly snap.
"Damn it, Nick I just need to know! Has Hydra done anything unusual lately that you know about? If anyone would know it would be you," I practically beg. He must hear the urgency in my tone because he doesn't question me again.
"I caught word they were hanging around upstate earlier this week, they're not usually over there," Nick announces. I furrow my brows.
"Where upstate?"
"Some place called The Sky Palace. Heard they were there for a good bit of time snooping around before they got booted out," Nick answers, pausing for a moment, "Y/N, what's going on?"
I can barely breathe, let alone work up a response. The phone nearly slips from my limp fingers.
"Y/N, are you-"
"That's where the gala is tonight" I whisper, an aching, yawning sort of sensation ripping in my chest at the sudden realization that slams into me.
They're going to kill him. They're going to kill Bucky Barnes and they're going to make a move on our mob.
"I have to go," I rush out, my voice trembling and my stomach roiling with nausea, "Thank you, Nick"
"Of course."
I end the call, rushing to grab my purse and throw on the first pair of shoes I can find. As I rush out of my apartment and into the streets of New York as the sun sets low behind the buildings, I no longer think about the betrayal or hurt. I don't ruminate that I'm fired or that Bucky doesn't care for me like I do him. All I can think about is that my family isn't safe tonight, and I have to do everything in my power to protect them. All of them.
As I whistle for a taxi, my phone is already pressed to my ear and ringing as it tries by I reach my ex-boss. The call goes unanswered as I sit inside the cab.
"Where to?" The driver asks.
I almost say the venue, but pause. I set up Bucky's schedule for today, he should still be at his mansion upstate getting ready. He always did like to make grand entrances. Even if I'm wrong, it's only a ten minute drive to the venue. I give the driver Bucky's address and dial his number again as the driver speeds off.
"You've reached the voicemail box of-"
"Oh come on!" I groan out, pulling my phone away and ending the call. My heart is racing so fast that I can practically feel it trying to run out of my chest. I feel utterly powerless right now knowing that Bucky could die and I can help. What if I don't make it in time? What if he's already gone?
Tears blur my vision and sudden heart ache seizes my chest at the thought. I shove it all down and keep myself composed as I try his number again, but to no avail. Thankfully, we're pulling up to his mansion now. I pay the driver and rush out, putting in the gate code and sprinting to his front door. I don't even waste time knocking, knowing he's probably in the garage or his room, and dig up the spare key from its hiding spot to let myself in.
"Bucky!" I shout as soon as I'm in, slamming the door behind me.
There's no response.
"Bucky please! Are you here?" I shout again, but the silence rings in my ears.
One quick check of his room shows he's not here and when I sprint into the garage, I see one of his twenty cars missing.
I missed him. He's already gone.
I curse, checking my phone to see that he's running fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, something he never does. Of all days to be more punctual to his own event, tonight was probably the worst. I hesitate for only a moment as I ponder what to do.
"You'll forgive me later," I mutter to myself before I spin on my heels and jog to the key rack by the door. I swipe the first set I find and press the button only to find his brand new, cherry red Tesla lighting up.
If things weren't so dire, I'd squeal in excitement.
I don't waste time with giddiness, though, and sprint to the car. I'm inside and have the engine running in record time. Not one minute later, I'm peeling out of the garage and onto the road with screeching tires. I press the gas pedal nearly all the way to the floor, the engine roaring in my ears as I whip into the traffic.
I have to make it. I have to.
|||
And here we are, all caught up.
I hope you understand now more than you did before why I'm so desperate to get to Bucky in time. I hadn't realized it fully in the moment before, but now that I just might lose him, I know that he's everything to me. I wouldn't be half the woman I am without him and his constant assurance that I was strong and skilled and perfectly able to stand up for myself.
I can't lose him, not when he's so much more than a boss to me. So much more.
I cut the ten minute drive to the gala down to four. My headlights cut thought the pitch black night as I swerve up to The Sky Palace that's teeming with cars and richly dressed guests. The Tesla screeches as I grind to a halt before a group of gasping patrons and a wide-eyed valet.
His eyes grow wider when he sees me step out of it in a pair of jeans and a hoodie.
"Don't scratch this car if you want to live," I advise as I toss the young valet the keys. He must think I'm joking because his gaze flashes with humor.
He doesn't realize I'm being dead serious.
I don't care a modicum about the horrified, disgusted looks I'm getting from the elite who are still making their way to the Palace's entrance nor do I care about their cries as I break into a sprint and shove past them all.
I can't let him die, I can't let Pierce hurt my family. I can't.
I only stop running when I reach the two men guarding the front entrance with iPads to check in guests. I know them both, since both happen to be members of Bucky's mob. Their eyebrows furrow once they see me approaching them.
"Y/N?" One asks, his eyes nearly popping from his head, "Boss won't like it that you're here."
"Let me in, Sam," I order, my chest heaving with breath, "He's in danger, you're all in danger."
The two men's eyes widen and they share a look for a moment before glancing back to me.
"Y/N," the other begins, but the panic is getting too much and I cut him off.
"Listen, you're all in trouble. The business is in danger of being thrown into chaos, and your boss-" my voice cuts off with sudden emotion, tears swimming in my gaze, "Your boss is going to die if you don't let me in right now."
They only hesitate a moment longer before they step aside. Relief like I've never known it crashes through me. Just before I walk in, though, Sam catches my arm.
"I don't know what the hell's going on, but we're already falling apart without you. We...he needs you, Y/N," Sam whispers.
My heart tugs painfully in my chest and that same hole opens again. I miss them all, I miss the mob and the meetings where we'd all mess around like kids. I miss Bucky.
And with that last thought, I give Sam a nod before turning and jogging into the Palace.
Classical music wafts into the air, broken up only by soft chatter, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. The gala is classy and elegant and beautifully well-done, but I don't take time to admire any of that. Instead, I race through the room in search of Bucky.
I receive more than one disgusted glare and scoff at my apparel and messy, unkempt hair. I don't give one damn as I try to blend in as much as possible to not alert Pierce or his men while searching for Bucky.
I stop when I reach the grand staircase that leads to an upper balcony, taking the advantage of the steps and climbing a few to see the room from a birds eye view. It only takes me a few seconds to spot Bucky near the center of the room. My heart squeezes in my chest and I almost sob in relief to see him alive and safe. Just before I move to rush down the stairs and towards him, I hear a click from the top of the stair case.
I whip my gaze up in time to see one of the two bouncers from the list, Xavier Taft, begin setting up a sniper rifle atop the dimly lit balcony that no one but him stands atop.
My heart stops. Time freezes. My stomach hits the floor and all I can think about is that I can't lose him.
"No," I breathe, snapping my gaze down to see the gun trained on Bucky.
When I look at him, I see Sam at his side and speaking in rushed tones, probably about me. Knowing I don't have many options left, my mind works in overdrive to figure out the best way possible to do this. I need to cause a distraction, one to catch Xavier's attention long enough for me to finish climbing the stairs and get that gun away from him. At the same time, though, I need Bucky to see it happen, I need him to know his life is in danger so Lance Salone, the other bouncer, doesn't surprise attack him.
Bucky's just snapped his head towards Sam, his brows furrowed and his jaw tight when I make my move, my nerves humming.
"BUCKY LOOK OUT!" I shout, my voice piercing and carrying out over the room. Instantly, Bucky's head snaps up to where I am on the stairs and his entire body goes rigid.
I don't waste time watching him any longer and begin to sprint up the last of the stairs and towards Xavier who curses. He wasn't ready to shoot yet, I timed it perfectly. Beneath me, Bucky sees the gun trained at him and he sees Xavier, who now has his gaze on me. Bucky's entire body changes again into a mode of desperation, but I don't see it. I'm focused on closing the distance between me and the gun that's almost ready.
"Y/N!" Bucky roars, but I'm barely listening over the chaos in my brain.
"Bitch!" Xavier growls, cocking the rifle hastily and wrapping his finger around the trigger. He's too late, because I finish bounding up the stairs and crash into him, knocking him off of his feet and shoving the gun off balance enough so that the bullet he intended for Bucky slams into the roof instead.
Xavier's body slams into the marble tile as I tackle him, but he quickly overpowers me, flipping us over so I'm beneath him. Below us, I can hear screaming and glass shattering, but above the panic I swear I can hear a voice bellowing my name.
I scramble out from underneath Xavier before he can pin me, shooting to my feet and sprinting to the sniper rifle still sitting on the balcony. Just as I hear Xavier get up behind me, I knock the rifle over and send it careening down into the panicking crowd.
"I'll kill you for that!" I hear Xavier spit from behind me, and I whirl just in time to see him throwing a fist at me.
Time suddenly slows, and it's like I'm back in the office that day ages ago where Bucky tried to teach me self-defense. My body remembers the way he grounded me from my punch before my mind does, and I snap back to reality just in time to dodge Xavier's punch. Just like Bucky did to me then, I hook my leg around his and use his momentum to shove him to ground. I crash down on top of him and practically feel the slam of his head into the marble below him.
"Y/N!"
My entire body jumps at Bucky's voice, now close to me. I snap my head around to see him bounding up the stairs, blood splattered across his tuxedo as if he killed a man himself down there during the chaos. I almost sob in relief. He's okay. I melt beneath his gaze that bores down into me as he stoops down to reach out to me.
His hand is inches from me when his eyes snap up to something behind me and horror flashes through his face a millisecond before a hand wraps around my waist and wrenches me to my feet and away from Xavier's unconscious body. I gasp, and the world suddenly goes very still and very quiet as the cool of a gun presses underneath my chin, forcing it up slightly. My stomach hits the floor and I hardly find it in me to breathe.
Bucky stands ever so slowly in front of me, his jaw clenched and his eyes spelling murder.
"Leave her alone, Pierce," Bucky orders, and sudden fear clamps over me.
Alexander Pierce has me at gun point.
"Why? I'm actually quite taken with your girl," Pierce responds, tightening his hold on my waist. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment at the disgust and fear rolling through me before looking back at Bucky. He catches my slight movement and his fury heightens.
"Pierce, I swear to God if you kill her I will skin you alive," Bucky growls.
"See, now we're getting somewhere," Alexander announces, but I can hear the annoyance in his voice. This isn't what he wanted to happen, "What are you willing to give for her life?"
Immediate tears spring to my eyes and I meet Bucky's gaze again.
"No," I beg immediately, not daring to shake my head because of the gun beneath it, "Let me die. I'd rather die."
Bucky works hard to keep the cold exterior upon his face, but I can see between the cracks that he's...he's terrified.
It's only when Alexander moves his arm that restrains me to cover my mouth that I realize my slim window of opportunity. Without thinking, I slam my free hands into the gun that Pierce holds to the underside of my chin hard enough that it knocks his hand away. His hold loosens in sudden shock and I rip away at the same moment that Bucky darts forward and grabs ahold of me, ripping me to him and immediately crushing me into his side for protection as he rips out his own guns and shoots before Pierce can even recover.
The bullet finds its target perfectly, right between his eyes, and it's over.
My entire body is trembling so violently that I cling to Bucky, scared that my knees will give way from the adrenaline. I've never been in a situation like that before, never been so close to death. Bucky drops the gun from his hold and switches his full attention to me, probably realizing just how pale I've turned and how badly I'm shaking.
Keeping one arm secured around my waist, he runs the other through my hair, his steel blue eyes taking in every feature of mine.
"You saved my life," Bucky murmurs, his hold on me so tight in the most protective sort of way, almost as if he's just as terrified as me, "Even after I fired and threatened you."
I shake my head, tears of relief pooling in my eyes.
"I couldn't let you die."
Bucky's jaw clenches and before he can react I throw my hands around his neck, hugging him close to me. He reacts instantly, wrapping both massive arms around my waist and pulling me close to him, holding me tighter than I ever have been.
"Don't ever do that again, doll," Bucky mumbles into my hair, clenching my hoodie in his fists, "Don't be willing to die for me. I don't deserve it."
I don't know why tears are gathering in my eyes but I find I can't blink them away. I only tighten my grip, nuzzling my head into his neck.
"I don't think I can promise that," I breathe, and my next words come out before I can even stop them, "You'll always be deserving."
Bucky pulls away so fast that my heart lurches into my throat. His eyes examine mine so frantically, so dangerously, so desperately as he holds me out from him. His chest is heaving, almost as bad as mine.
"I did it to protect you, you have to know that. Everything that happened before, it was all to keep them away from you," Bucky swears, and my heart stutters at the look in his eyes, as if the police and ambulance sirens filling the air alongside the shouting don't exist.
"Why?" I breathe, hoping on everything he'll say what I think he will. Bucky brings a hand to cup my cheek, shaking his head at me with something almost close to tears in his eyes.
"You're my only weakness, Y/N, and they know it. Everyone knows it," Bucky murmurs and I swear I stop breathing, "If it came to you or the world I'd pick you every time."
My chest is so tightly constricted that I can hardly draw in any breaths. My chest is moving just as fast as his and butterflies are pressing into my stomach in anticipation for whatever is thick in the air between us.
"Don't ever fire me again," I order, and a low chuckle leaves his lips. My humor drains in a second though, and suddenly it's hard to speak without my voice trembling, "I don't think I'll survive it."
Something breaks in his gaze, softens it and turns it so tender and passionate that my skin tingles. He brings his other hand to cup my face to, so I feel completely under his control.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" He asks carefully, his eyes searching mine, "This life will never slow down. Someone will always want to take you from me."
"I'm sure," I whisper, not even hesitating.
His lips are on mine before the words are even fully out of my mouth. My heart leaps out of my chest as I melt into him, pulling him closer as our lips move in perfect harmony. My entire body feels like liquid and lightning all at once and he's the only thing left in the world. One of his hands finds their way into my hair, leaving me completely at his mercy. When he finally pulls back, he leaves a breath of a kiss on my nose and then my forehead before tilting my chin up to meet his gaze.
"You've been more to me for a long time now, doll" Bucky breathes, and a shiver rushes down my spine. He's so beautiful. A smile twitches onto my lips as I caress his stubble-covered cheek.
"I think how I feel is pretty obvious, considering I did tackle a fully grown man for you," I remark, and a surprised laugh rumbles out of him. The sound nearly turns me weak.
"And it was probably the scariest and hottest thing you've ever done," Bucky assures. This time I laugh and kiss him again, but we're both more serious after it.
"This life may not be safe," he begins, his thumb running over my lip, "But you always will be. As long as I'm here, you'll always be safe."
"I love you, Bucky" I whisper, my words a promise. He freezes, something new and bright flashing through his gaze. I don't think he's ever heard those words before.
"I've always loved you, and I always will," he swears, and for a moment my life is completely and totally content.
It doesn't matter what's happening around us, it doesn't even matter that I nearly died a few times in one day. With Bucky by my side, I feel invincible, I feel strong and capable.
"I don't think I can be your secretary any more," I whisper, and his smile is back, turning my insides to butterflies.
"No, I've got a better idea," he smirks, kissing me quickly.
The next day, Bucky would introduce me to the mob as his equal partner.
The King and Queen of crime.
And it would stay like that for the rest of our time.
I don't know when exactly Bucky Barnes became more than my boss, maybe it was always. Maybe I should have known I was in trouble from the beginning, but it's the best kind of trouble. So, if you ever get the chance to do something a little crazy, maybe something you never thought you would, but it just feels right, then you need to do it.
You never know who will become more to you in the process.
"Advice from my experience, for me, I've never taken no as an answer, I don't believe in that. If I want something, I'm going to get it. When people tell me that I can't do something, it just motivates me more. For me, it makes me smile, because I just want to prove everybody wrong." - Joe Anoa'i/Roman Reigns ☝🏾❤
a/n: if you would want to be in the tag list for future parts, let me know
paring: roman reigns x fem!reader
summary: the head of the table (roman reigns) accepts you into his bloodline. He loses himself in the moment of intimacy.
warnings: language, oral fluids, kissing (detailed), emotion, MINORS DNI
word count: 1,578
The wet hair on your back and shoulders stuck to your shoulders as you applied mascara at your vanity. Your walk into the ring with Roman was almost upon you. Though you weren't walking into the ring for the first time, it was your first time walking beside him.
In your vanity mirror, you glanced at the WWE women's championship belt. I’ve got this, you whispered to yourself.
It was the future reaction you feared. If you joined Roman, you would be subject to his dominance, what the crowd would think of you, how he would treat you in front of more than 10 thousand spectators. Your hands began to sweat,
“Miss y/l/n, its time,” paul said from the other side of the door, not letting himself in. Rather than responding, you stared in the mirror as anxiety crept up your spine.
“Miss y/l/n! I’m going to let the Tribal Chief know you aren't ready,"Paul states. Still, you didn't answer, just panicking inside more and more as the rate of your heart sped up.
Standing up and pacing backward and forward, you stopped in front of your championship belt. The anxiety was just beginning to overwhelm you, so you gripped your hand over it, closing your eyes and praying that it would go away soon.
“There a problem?” you flinched at the voice of the man, Roman Reigns. While struggling to get your words out, you turned to face him, "I'm sorry, I'm just.." He took a step closer until he was completely inside your dressing room. After closing the door behind him, he snapped his head back to you. You expected him to yell at you for not following his orders.
“What's wrong?” he asked. Fear and tears crept up into your eyes as you attempted to speak, but nothing came out.
Roman dropped his arms and walked up to you, caressing your cheek, “are you okay? Do we need to push back the promo for a bit-” you cut him off mid sentence, “no, no, i’m just… nervous,” you spoke, lowering your head.
"Look at me, doll," he said with his index finger lifting your chin. "Why are you nervous?" he asked. It took you a moment to gather your thoughts before you were able to speak. "I'm going to walk beside you... what if everything doesn't go well? What if I fuck up? What if I don't fit in with your bloodline-" you ranted until he stopped you.
“You DO fit in. I don't want to hear that from you again, doll." He lowers his head until he is only a few inches away from you. "We need you.' You hear me? I need you." He releases your face, picking up your belt and walking behind you.
Your waist tensed up as you felt that he placed the belt onto you, strapping it on. “I got this,” you whispered to yourself. Your heart rate increased as you became more aware of his body pressing up against you behind, increasing your breathing and raising your heart rate. “That's right, you got this,” he whispers, brushing your hair away from your back with his left hand.
“breathe,” he whispered, “now acknowledge me and walk by my side tonight.”
You turned around nodding your head in agreement, “okay, my tribal chief,” you stated. Roman took your hand and walked you out of your dressing room.
Romans theme song played as you, Jimmy, jey and paul walked beside him. You threw on your most confident look. The crowd was going crazy as you all made your appearance. Halfway through the walkway, all of you stopped, as roman held out his hand to gesture paul to hand him his belt.
You held yours in your hand, so did jey and jimmy, awaiting to hold it up on romans cue. As soon as you all held up your belts, roman turned his head to send you a small smirk, which calmed you in every way possible.
The promo went great. The both of you stood head to head in front of bailey and Finn Balor, ripping them apart with your meaningful words.
You made your way back to your dressing room, placing your belt onto the shelf with your door wide open. You pant around the room, not taking in what just happened. “I stood by roman tonight, oh my god… and they LOVED it,” you thought to yourself over and over. Of course you’ve always been slightly afraid of him, but the other half of you needed his presence to make you feel welcomed.
You walked over to your mirror, changing into your robe with nothing underneath but your underwear. Your door opened, not thinking too much of it you said, “do you people not know how to knock nowadays? I mean jesus give me a break to cool down first,”
“That’ll be unnecessary,” you heard the deep voice of the male only 6 feet behind you. Without a doubt, you quickly turned around and ran up to him. Throwing your arms around his neck in joy, “we did it roman, we won them over,” you shouted in excitement.
Roman lightly pushes you off of him. You felt the embarrassment from your head to your toes, forgetting that you can't just jump onto him like that, “i- im sorry. I was just a bit too excited,” you said.
He looked down at you, watching your face and how embarrassed you were at the moment. He didn't push you off because of boundaries, it was because he knew for a fact that he wouldn’t be able to control himself. But you didn't know that at all.
“Don't apologize, its okay. And you won them over, not me doll,” he stated with a soft grin. You were confused. How’s so dominant with everyone else except you. “Roman.. Can I ask you something?” you ask, not taking your eyes off of his. He reaches behind his head to release his ponytail. His wet and wavy hair dropped down onto his shoulders, “go on,” he spoke. Taking a huge gulp to your throat, you finally gained the confidence to ask, “how come you're so dominant with everyone… except me?” his gaze softened as the question sent a warm sense to his liking.
“Because…” he says, not finishing the sentence as if he just couldn't if he wanted to. “Because?” you questioned, gesturing your hands, “because, you’ve got something in you that nobody else has,” he states, “you're like a baby snake in a crowd of mice, ready to grow and strike each and every one of them. I accepted you into the bloodline because you have potential. I wanna help you reach that full potential.” he admitted.
None of it was a lie… but he wasn't telling the full truth. About how he likes the way your body moves in the ring, how your voice sends him overhills, and how beautiful and powerful you are. You could tell by his tone and dominance that he just wants to keep things professional, so you opened your mouth to speak your piece.
“Roman… I really do appreciate you. This opportunity will change my life, forever. I enjoy watching you in the ring, watching you win over and over. And honestly… I always wanted to be a part of you- I mean a part of your bloodline.” his eyes wander along your face, paying attention to every expression and gesture you make. His mind had completely wandered off as he stared directly at you,
“Roman? Are you listeni-”
“Shit,” he cut you off by pulling you closer and slamming his lips onto yours, creating a moist friction between the two of you. He couldn’t hold back anymore. You sunk into his kiss, kissing him back hungrily as if you were all he wanted. As if trying to flatten and destroy your mouth.
He hungrily pushed back, your mouth open, tongue pushing past your clenched teeth to the moist space within. The bristles of his beard scratched against your soft cheeks as you gripped his head firmly, as if to keep him from escaping. you worked your mouth against his, your tongues battling back and forth like wrestlers, each trying to pin the other.You could taste the shared breath, feel the thud of your combined heartbeat as you fumbled to taste one another.
Within seconds, his hand gestured underneath your robe, gipping your waist to keep you in. the kiss went on for 5 minutes until he pulled away into a realization. His eyes darted into yours, sending you a look of sadness as if he’s done something wrong.
He backs away as he shakes his head, “y/n… we can't do this…” he says as he turns his back and attempts to leave. Your heart stopped for a second, so confused on why he changed so quickly. “oh my.. Did he think i was a mistake?” you thought to yourself.
Walking towards him from behind, you grab his arm, “Roman…”
He gently pulls away from you, “we’ll see you friday, for the tag team match,” he said. His back was taut, it was like he was putting up a wall between you. Finally, he turns to face you, “i lost myself y/n, it wont happen again.” he states as he exits your dressing room.
You stood there in complete confusion. You heard the remorse in his words… loud and clear.
