Masterlist — I do not consent to my work being re-uploaded, translated or fed into AI. Taglist
Pairings: CEO!Bucky Barnes x wife!reader.
Tags: fluff, comfort. Husband!Bucky. Dad!Bucky x mom!reader. 1.6k words.
Warnings: cursing, kissing. Mild injuries. Bucky's employee has a crush on him. Possible spelling and grammar mistakes.
Synopsis: The worst bad days are the ones that start up feeling as though they will be the best day ever. When your perfect day takes many turns for the worse, you turn to your husband, Bucky, who will always be there for you.
A/N: Greatly inspired by me having the worst day ever last Thursday after having the best morning ever. Guess how many of reader's misfortunes were inspired by my own day.
Your morning had been entirely pleasant. Bucky’s arm had still been snuggly wrapped around your waist, fingers digging into your flesh when you woke up. It was a rare occurrence. Usually, Bucky would wake up at least one hour before you did.
He was busy, and he worked hard—you would never be able to resent him for that. That, however, did not mean that you didn’t absolutely love those mornings in which you got to see his blue eyes open for the first time in the day.
“Mornin’…” he mumbled, his voice still a complete rasp.
“Good morning,” you had smiled back, giving in when he pulled you closer.
Bucky placed three sleepy kisses on your cheekbone and one over your lips. You breathed in deeply; there was something deeply distinct about how your bedroom smelt in the mornings. It was your body wash mixed with Bucky’s shampoo, with a hint of something that was simply him—a scent you would have recognised everywhere and that never failed to make your stomach feel light.
Little Rebecca had behaved even more so than she usually did. She was a pleasure to raise, that was for sure. Polite and always smiling. She had yawned and curled her tiny hands into fists around your shirt as you carried her to the bathroom.
When you dropped her off at daycare, she didn’t fuss one bit. She waved brightly and yelled, “Goodbye, Mommy!” while trying to balance four different colourful blocks on her hands.
The outlook for the day was ideal, which meant you were more than bummed when things started going wrong.
On your way to Pilates, your car stopped three different times. Three different occasions in which you had to awkwardly signal to the cars behind you to drive around because the engine had decided not to start after you had stopped at the red light. You swallowed the insults and turned on some music.
The next blow came in the middle of the street. You hurried, balancing your weight in those brown leather boots you had bought the week prior. New York was as busy as ever; time waited for no one, and you were not about to be left behind. It was a short walk from your work to the grocery store, and if you hurried, you would be able to catch that perfect time right before the store got flooded with customers.
Turns out, the street said, 'Not today.' One wrong step and a loose tile later, and you were clutching your poor ankle. “Dammit—” You winced in pain as you stopped walking. Your foot had twisted into some uncomfortable position, surprised by how the hard floor had dipped when the tile moved.
You took a deep breath; you could push through it.
The pain only worsened when you returned home to find the elevator to be ‘out of order’. That was five stories with a handful of grocery bags and an injured foot.
You unlocked the door to your apartment with arms aching and out of breath. You dragged your feet to the kitchen and placed the bags on the counter. Some water would fix it, you were certain. You reached out into your tote bag, only to find a huge, wet mess. The water bottle had the lid separated enough from the actual bottle to allow quite a few drops of water to spill.
“God fucking dammit!” You cursed out in exasperation. You covered your face with your hands, already feeling the tears behind your eyes, which only made you feel worse. Were you seriously going to cry because of a bad day?
That was the last stroke.
With whatever strength you had left within you, you threw the soaking wet tote bag on the clothesline before making your final choice: you were fed up, and you were going to visit your husband.
In that moment, there was nothing that you needed as much as a kiss, a hug, and reassurance that everything would be okay from one of the people you loved most in the world.
Your car was left in the parking lot. There was no way you would risk it again. You took the subway instead. In the short path between the subway station and Bucky's work, the grey clouds in the sky began their slow but steady downpour.
You had brought no umbrella.
By the time you crossed the main entrance to Bucky’s office building, you were barely holding it together. The rain had got enough water in your hair and clothes to make it uncomfortable. The workers at the front desk paid no mind; they were used to you. The problem came later on, when you were about to knock on Bucky’s door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” A young woman asked,
“Yeah, I’m just here to see my husband.” With the way the woman looked at you, with her eyes wide and lips turned down, you knew what was coming.
“That’s a nice try, honey. But Mr Barnes is busy.”
“Ma’am, seriously. James is my husband—”
The woman was stepping closer, sharp in her heels. “I don’t know why so many women think they can get to him. He’s a busy man.”
“Many women?” You stuttered, confused and increasingly irritated. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for this.”
You took one final step over, swinging the door open and stepping into your husband’s office, knowing that if you waited a second longer, things would get messy. Bucky looked up immediately, dropping the pen in his hand when he caught sight of the scene.
“Mr Barnes, I’m so sorry; I tried to stop her—” the woman cried, placing her hand on her chest. You did not like the way she looked at your husband one bit.
“Stop her?” Bucky asked, standing up from his desk. His eyes scanned over you, noticing every single detail. The way you leaned all of your weight on your healthy ankle, or your wet hair, or the way you shivered, or simply how miserable you looked.
“This is my wife.” His tone was more like an angry boss and less like the tender husband you knew. “Always let her in. Always.”
The woman nodded awkwardly and scurried out of the door. Bucky waited until she had left and was far away enough. His head turned back to you. There was this thing that Bucky always did with his face when he was concerned about you, his brows would knit and his eyes would widen.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, curling his fingers around your arms. “What happened?”
You did not waste a second before jumping into his arms. Your face rested on his chest, right next to that blue tie of his that you loved to take off him. His arms embraced you, and one of his hands traced your back.
Bucky held you like that until he felt the tension start to leave your body. He pressed a warm kiss to your head before he pulled away. He held your gaze until you spoke.
“I just had the worst day ever,” you began, holding onto him tighter. “My car stopped like three times on my way to Pilates, and then I stepped on a loose tile and hurt my ankle—and then the fucking elevator was out of order, so I had to walk the stairs all the way to our apartment, with the grocery bags, mind you. And then I spilt water—and I think I might get my period soon, and I just feel, so, so terrible.”
“Hey, shhh, sweetheart,” Bucky’s hand ran up and down your arms. At that moment, he needed you to relax before he could begin to unpack what was bothering you so much to be able to help you. “You said you hurt your ankle? Here,” he carefully led you to his office couch, allowing you to use him as an aid to sit down. “I’ll take a look, alright?”
You nodded, pushing the wet strands of hair away from your face. With a carefulness that was solely reserved for you, Bucky removed your boot. He placed it on the floor and grabbed your ankle with one hand. Trying hard not to make the injury worse, he slipped your sock.
“It’s a little swollen,” he confirmed, and for a moment, he looked almost offended. “That loose tile and I will have a chat.”
You almost laughed. “Not the time, James.”
“Alright, alright,” he raised his free hand in mock surrender before going back to your leg to trace small circles on your thigh. “How about you rest here for a while, hm? I can have Natasha bring you some tea; I’m sure she’ll be more than glad to see you.”
“James, honey, are you sure this isn’t too much trouble? You don’t have to drop your entire schedule just because I’m having a bad day—and for stupid reasons at that.”
He sighed, sitting on the couch next to you and draping one of his arms on the headrest behind you. “It’s not stupid. You’re allowed to have a bad day, and you’re more than allowed to reach out to me when you do. What kind of terrible husband would I be if I shut you away? And as for my schedule, that’s the great thing about being the boss: I get to plan my own week. It’s not the end of the world if I delay some tasks to make sure you’re okay, sweetheart.”
The tone of his voice and the way he looked at you told you everything you needed to know. He meant it. He always did.
“I still need to pick Rebecca up…”
“I’ll drive you, or we can have Steve and Sam pick her up—you know she loves her uncles.”
You nodded with a growing smile. “That she does.” You shifted closer on the couch, resting your head on Bucky’s chest. His arm wrapped around you, and he kissed your head. “Thank you.”
Back in my early years in the fandom, the romantic sitcom trope was incredibly popular, and I always had a soft spot for it. In this version, Bucky is the new guy in the apartment building and quickly falls under the charm of a Steve who’s equal parts sweet and flirtatious. ❤️🔥🫦
Summary: You start dating a handsome stranger who’s new to town. Bucky is concerned about anyone you date, so he has his right hand man, Steve, do some digging on the new guy. Turns out he’s not who he says he is.
“James, have you ever considered just settling down with a nice girl?” you asked from across the room.
He looked up from the other side of his massive mahogany desk with a smirk. “Sure, doll. I think about it all the time. Problem is, there aren’t any nice girls left in all of New York.”
You turned back to him with a grin. “Because you’ve ruined every last one of them.”
Not you. He leaned back in his chair, strong arms settling into place behind his head. “Besides, what kind of fun would I be having with a nice girl?”
You laughed and plopped into the leather chair in front of his desk, Jean clad legs resting on the arm of the chair. “Absolutely none at all. That’s the point. You’d maybe stay out of trouble for once in your life.”
“Nah. I happen to like living life on the wild side.”
You raised your eyebrow but didn’t say anything. You knew he was so much more than the mafia boss the rest of NYC knew. He was kind, funny, gentle, a little goofy, and oh so protective. Not to mention, there wasn’t a single soul on god's green earth that was as attractive as the suited man in front of you. You loved him. Always had. And he loved you too…just not in the same way.
“Alright, doll. You better get moving or you’re gonna be late,” he said, interrupting your thoughts.
You groaned. “Do I have to? I hate meeting new clients.”
He laughed. “How are you supposed to get new clients if you never meet anyone?”
“You can bankroll my very cheap lifestyle so I never have to work again," you teased.
“Doll, if I bankrolled your lifestyle, it would be anything but cheap. And for the record, I’ve offered more than once, but you always say the same thing.”
“We don’t take handouts," you both said at the same time.
You sighed. “We may have grown up poor, but we never begged.”
He nodded. “I get it, doll. But if there ever comes a time when you want to give up practicing law…”
“Only every minute of every day, Buck," you joke as you grab your purse and head to the door.
As you step out into the hall, your path is blocked by a very handsome blond haired man. The man shoots you a grin, which you return in kind. “Hey Stevie. Boss is feeling kinda moody this morning. Apparently Sofia dumped him.”
“Her name is Sasha and I dumped her.” Bucky yelled from inside the office.
You winked at Steve and he laughed. “I’ve gotta get going. Keep him company for me, will you?”
“You’ve got it, (Y/N/N). I’ll see you tonight,” Steve replied.
You flounced off to your meeting and Steve entered the office, shutting the door behind him.
“You’ve got that look on your face. What’s up?” Bucky asked.
“When you gonna tell her?”
Bucky groaned. “Never. We’ve talked about this.”
Steve wanted to say more…hell, he always wanted to say more, but he knew it was a useless battle that he’d never win. The two most stubborn people on this planet also happened to be his childhood best friends. One had just walked out the door and the other was his boss, sitting on the other side of the desk. “Fine,” he said as he sat down in one of the leather chairs.
“Don’t we have some sort of business to discuss anyway?”
“Not really.”
“Make something up.”
Steve laughed. “Seriously, boss, nothing is happening. It’s been pretty quiet lately. Everyone has been cooperating and getting along. It’s almost peaceful.”
Bucky winced. “Damnit, Steve. You know better than to say that word. Now something bad is gonna happen.”
“You’re superstitious, Bucky. Everything is good.”
Bucky gave him a cold look, but didn’t say anything. Something in his gut told him that everything was not, in fact, good.
************
You walked into your office 10 minutes later than you’d intended to, but thankfully your new client wasn’t there yet. You looked down at the jeans and t-shirt you were wearing and sighed in annoyance as you locked the door to your office before changing into a dress with heels. You hated wearing dress clothes. It always made you feel like you were trying to be someone you weren’t. Like you thought you were better than everyone else.
You sat down at your desk and started to log into your computer when there was a knock at your door. "Come in," you called.
When the door opened, a young brunette man peeked into the office. "I'm looking for Miss (Y/L/N)," he said hesitantly.
"You've found her," you said as you stood up to greet him. You stepped around your desk and shook his hand before gesturing for him to have a seat on the other side of the desk. When you sat back down, you subtly slid your heels off to let your feet breathe. "What can I do for you, Mr. Reynolds?"
"I'm new to the area and I heard you were the best in the business, so I figured I'd want to become acquainted with you. My sources didn't mention how beautiful you were, though."
You were slightly taken aback by his forwardness. Sure, you knew you weren't ugly, but you weren't used to men looking at you the way this man was. You stared him up and down, trying to make your own assessment. Objectively, he was incredibly handsome. Strong jaw, green eyes, tall, a bit of a beard, and he clearly worked out. But there was something about him that made you wary. Or perhaps it was the 'best in the business' line that gave you pause. "What business are you in, exactly?" you asked, ignoring his compliment.
He smiled and you would be a liar if you said it didn't make your heart beat just a little faster. "Well, Miss (Y/L/N), I'm in a very private business." He shot you a wink, which once again made you wary.
"You can call me (Y/N). I appreciate the desire to maintain privacy, but everything you say here is completely confidential."
He nodded and smiled again. "A gentleman by the name of Carter recommended you."
The spark of recognition lit up your face. You knew Carter very well...he was actually one of Bucky's employees. "Ahh, I see. Well I understand your desire for privacy, then. What do you need from me, though?"
"I simply wanted to meet the attorney who came so highly recommended...should I need one in the future."
You offered him a small smile. You had no desire to be involved with any other mobs or mafia or whatever criminal group this man was a part of, but it's still sometimes hard for you to say no. Especially when someone comes on the recommendation of a friend. "Well, I'm happy to assist you should you need it. Don't hesitate to give me a call, Mr. Reynolds." You stood up and extended your hand.
He mirrored your actions and smiled as he shook your hand. "I appreciate that, (Y/N), and please, call me Charlie."
You inclined your head slightly and replied, "Have a good rest of your day, Charlie."
"Thank you. You too, (Y/N)." He turned and left your office without another word.
Once he was gone, you sat back down at your desk and went over the meeting again in your head. He seemed nice enough and he wasn't creepy or off-putting, which was a nice change of pace from some of the clients you'd had in recent months. You debated calling Bucky and asking him to look into Charlie for you, but you decided that would be a bit extreme. Besides, if Carter recommended this guy, he had to be a good one, right?
You pushed any lingering doubts from your mind and decided to move along with your day. Charlie hadn't asked anything of you and he really was very polite. You felt comfortable with him, even if your initial instinct was wariness. That was something years of being friends with New York's top mafia boss would do to you.
You finally signed into your computer and started going through your emails. Once you finished that, you moved on to some paperwork that had been piling up. A couple hours had passed when your cell phone started ringing. You didn't recognize the number, but sometimes clients called you from unknown numbers, so you answered. "This is (Y/N) (Y/L/N)."
"Hi, (Y/N)," the deep voice on the other end of the line said.
Your eyes widened in surprise. "I didn't expect to hear from you so soon, Charlie."
You could practically hear his smile as he replied, "Well you did say to call if I needed anything."
You laughed lightly. "I didn't expect you to need me so soon."
He laughed warmly. "I was hoping you would have dinner with me tonight."
You inhaled sharply, surprised by his request. "Dinner?"
"Yes. It's something people do when they're attracted to each other."
You paused.
"I apologize if I was too forward, (Y/N). I'd been debating on asking you since the moment I walked into your office this morning."
"Oh." Your surprise was evident in your tone.
He quickly backed off, sensing your disinterest. "We can absolutely forget that this conversation ever happened, if you'd prefer."
"That won't be necessary," you said quickly. "I would love to have dinner with you. It's just that I already have plans with some friends tonight...but I suppose I could cancel those."
"Oh no, please don't cancel your plans on my account. We can have dinner a different night."
"It's not really a big deal. We just get together every Tuesday night for drinks and gossip. I'm quite certain I can miss one." I don't think they'll be upset with me.
"Well, I wouldn't want your friends to hate me before I've even met them."
"Pretty presumptuous of you to think you'll ever meet them."
He laughed. "A man can dream, can't he?"
You smiled. "I suppose I'll allow it," your tone was light and teasing and he chuckled in response. "So tonight, then?" you asked.
"If you're sure."
"I'm sure."
"Alright then. Would you like me to pick you up or meet at the restaurant?"
"Quite the gentleman. Since we've already met, I'm okay with you picking me up at my office."
He chuckled. "Alright, sounds good. I'll pick you up at 7."
"Looking forward to it."
"Oh, and (Y/N)?"
"Hmm?"
"Wear something nice." He hung up without saying goodbye.
If you hadn't heard the warmth in his tone, you may have been offended by that last statement. While you weren't exactly one to dress up and go out, you owned plenty of options ranging from leisure to black tie. You bit your lip as you thought about what you were going to wear that evening, images of the different dresses you had stashed in the back of your closet traipsing across your mind. One of the options you thought of was a beautiful black dress that made you feel like a million dollars. Honestly, it should because Bucky had it made for you. God only knows how much it had cost him. You'd needed a dress for a black tie event he was dragging you to and he'd had it delivered to you the day of.
Thinking about the dress of course made you think about Bucky, which instantly made you feel guilty. Your plans tonight had been with Bucky, Steve, and a few of your other close friends. You debated on whether to call Steve or Bucky...a debate which lasted less than a second. You picked up your phone, clicked on your favorites, and selected the second name on the list.
"Hey (Y/N/N)," a warm voice said.
"Hey Steve," you replied.
"Uh-oh. What's up?"
"What do you mean?"
"You've got that 'I did something I shouldn't have' tone."
You sighed. "Sometimes it's a pain in the ass having known you since birth."
He laughed in response. "Come on, spill."
"So I can't make it tonight."
"Aww come on, (Y/N/N). It's Tuesday."
"I know, I know. I um...I have a date."
Steve paused for a few moments before responding. "With whom?"
"A potential client."
"(Y/N)!"
"Oh what? He's not an actual client, so it's fine. Besides, he apparently knows Carter."
"Hmm." Charlie's supposed knowledge of Carter seemed to appease Steve...at least for the moment. "Can I assume you want me to tell Bucky?"
"Please," you mumbled. "Maybe don't tell him everything, though?"
"You want me to lie to him?"
"No...just don't tell him the whole truth."
"So leave out the part about you having a date."
"You know how he gets! He's made it virtually impossible to date any eligible man in the entire city! He always scares them away from me."
Steve sighed. "You know he doesn't do that on purpose. He worries about you."
You sighed. "I can take care of myself, you know. I'm almost a legit full-functioning adult."
Steve laughed. "Almost." He paused. "Alright, fine. I'll tell him you're not coming tonight, but if he asks me why, you know I can't lie to him."
"At least fight him off a little...maybe he'll back off."
"We both know that will never happen, but I'll do my best. I'll see you tomorrow, (Y/N/N). Have fun and stay safe. Call me if he gets annoying or creepy."
"I will. Thanks, Stevie."
The two of you hang up and you sigh in relief. You knew Steve wouldn't freak out on you like Bucky would have, so you played it safe by telling him instead. You knew Bucky would likely be calling you later tonight to grill you about this new guy, but for now you opted to focus on simple things, like what you were going to wear and how you were going to style your hair. You might not have loved getting dressed up and doing your hair and makeup, but that didn't mean you didn't know how to look amazing.
You decided to finish up your work before heading home to get ready for the first date you'd had in what felt like years.
**********
"What do you mean she's not coming?" Bucky asked.
"She's busy."
"Busy? It's Tuesday. We always get together on Tuesdays."
"I know, but she's got other things going on tonight, Buck."
"What kinds of things, Steve?"
"I don't know. It's not my business."
Bucky glared at his best friend and right-hand man, nearly burning a hole right through him. "I find it hard to believe you didn't ask."
Steve sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "She asked me not to say."
Bucky took a step towards him, and even though he was slightly shorter than Steve, Steve still felt intimidated. Out of everyone on the planet, no one knew what Bucky was capable of better than Steve did. Steve took a deep breath. "She's uh...she's got a date."
Bucky looked surprised. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"(Y/N) has a date," Steve repeated.
"With?"
"The client she met with this morning."
Bucky blinked slowly. "Did you get his name?"
Steve shook his head.
"One job, Steve. Literally one job."
"Technically, my job is to protect you and your interests."
"Which extends to (Y/N). It always has and it always will."
Steve sighed. "I'll find out."
"Good. I want you to find out everything about this guy. I don't want some random guy hanging out with her if I don't know him."
"Have you considered that she's old enough and smart enough to take care of herself?"
"Have you considered that I don't care? She means the world to me and I will do anything I can to keep her safe. Anything."
Steve sighed again, but nodded. "I know, Buck. So will I."
"Good. Now get to work."
Steve nodded and backed out of the room. "You've got it, boss."
Once Steve had left, Bucky leaned back in his chair, reflecting on the information he'd just learned, as well as all the years he'd spent keeping you safe. That was all he ever wanted to do...protect you. You were the reason he got out of bed in the morning, his guiding light, his hope, his reason for being. He lived for you. It had been that way since you were kids. Bucky was only a year older, but he'd always been extremely protective of you. He didn't realize until he was in his early 20s that it wasn't just because you were practically family. You held his heart in the palm of your hand and you didn't even know it. If it came down to it, Bucky would gladly give his life for yours. There would never be a price too high for your protection and happiness. There were times he had done things and made choices that were for your own good that upset you or even hurt you. He didn't care if you hated him, as long as you were safe.
He hadn't grown up hoping to become a mafia boss, let alone the most well-known and respected mafia boss in all of New York state. He'd had bigger (and more legal) aspirations, but sometimes life takes its own turns. When he found himself in a position of power, he realized how much danger it put the people he loved in, especially you. If anyone knew how much he cared about you, you'd be a pawn in this dangerous game he played. He couldn't let that happen, so he always kept you at arms length. Everyone knew Bucky Barnes looked out for you, but everyone saw it as a friendly, or even brotherly, relationship. He made it clear that if anyone so much as looked at you wrong, he would drop them into the bottom of the Hudson without a second thought. People kept their distance from you out of self-preservation. He knew it had hurt you over the years, especially in the dating realm, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop protecting you, he couldn't stop caring, and he certainly couldn't stop loving you. The fact that he regularly scared off potential suitors was simply a bonus for him. He wanted you to be happy so desperately, but he also couldn't bear to see you with someone else.
Bucky sighed and pulled himself together. These kinds of thoughts could ruin a weaker man. He shook off the heavy emotions and started reviewing the paperwork you had dropped off for him earlier that day.
**********
7:00pm came around all too quickly. You'd been ready for almost an hour, your nerves forcing you to make sure you had plenty of time to prepare. It had been quite sometime since you'd been on a real date.
While you were waiting for Charlie's arrival, your phone pinged, letting you know you'd received a text message. When you looked down at it, you saw Steve's name flash across the screen.
S: Hey, (Y/N/N), I'm on my way to Bucky's but I just wanted to check in and see how your date is going.
Y: I'm actually waiting for him to pick me up now.
S: Wait, you've met this guy right? He's not coming to your house?
Y: Stevie, chill. I'm not stupid. I met him this morning and he's picking me up from my office.
S: Okay. Okay. I'm sorry. I worry sometimes.
Y: I know and I love you for it. I promise I'll call you if I get into trouble or anything.
S: Alright. Just be safe.
S: BTW, what's this guy's name? I wanna know who's name to put on the headstone should he so much as lay a finger on you.
You laughed out loud before responding.
Y: God, you sound like Bucky. His name is Charlie Reynolds. Happy?
S: Thanks, (Y/N/N). If you go missing, I'll track his ass down.
You laughed again. You appreciated Steve's protective nature, but you also thought he was overdoing it. He was a lot like Bucky in that way. You started to type your response when a beautiful black Cadillac pulled up to the curb and a beeped at you. A man got out of the driver's seat, came around to the passenger side, and opened the rear door.
Charlie leaned out of the vehicle slightly so you could see him. "Hey (Y/N)."
You blushed slightly, having never been picked up in style like this before. You sent a quick text to Steve to let him know your date had begun before sliding into the spacious backseat. "Well this is luxurious," you commented.
Charlie smiled. "I intend to make the best impression possible this evening."
"I would have been okay if you'd picked me up in an old Toyota Corolla."
He laughed. "You deserve much better than that."
You smiled. "But you don't even know me. How could you possibly know what I deserve?"
"I have excellent instincts for this sort of thing."
"And apparently a wit to match."
He grinned. "Oh I'm glad you noticed."
You playfully rolled your eyes. "It's impossible not to. So...where are we going?"
"Madame, please. Be patient."
"You'll learn quite quickly that patience is not one of my strong suits."
"Patience has great rewards, my dear. You'll see."
You weren't quite sure how you felt about Charlie using terms of endearment this soon, but at least he hadn't called you 'baby' or something more personal. Not that you had an issue with pet names...just not 10 minutes after you meet someone.
A few minutes later and you arrived at your destination. When the drive opened the door to help you out, you were surprised to find yourself in front of one of the fanciest restaurants in the entire city. Only problem? It was owned by Bucky's rival...or former rival, would be more accurate. Keenan Mulligan had been found dead in the Hudson river a little over a month ago.
"Are you alright?" Charlie asked as he stepped out behind you.
"Of course. I'm just a little surprised that you choose this particular place. I didn't even know it was still open."
Charlie looked at you in confusion. "Why would it be closed?"
"Well...umm...the owner was murdered not that long ago. Most of his businesses have shut down." Including his very illegal ones.
"Hmm. I didn't know. My apologies, we can absolutely go somewhere else--"
"Oh that won't be necessary. I didn't know him or anything. I was simply surprised."
Charlie nodded. "Alright."
You started to walk towards the door, but Charlie stopped you and turned you towards him.
"May I just say, you look absolutely stunning this evening. Like a vision."
You blushed. "Thank you. You don't look so bad either."
He laughed. In truth, the man was quite attractive in his fitted suit. Everything about him radiated wealth...and in this moment, so did you.
Charlie guided you into the restaurant and you were greeted at the hostess stand by a beautiful young woman.
"Mr. Reynolds, it's a pleasure to see you again sir. Would you like your usual table?" the hostess asked.
"That would be lovely."
You followed Charlie to his 'usual table' in a quiet corner near the rear of the establishment. He helped you into your chair before taking a seat across from you. The hostess placed the menus on the table and bid you both a good evening.
"So...you come here often?" you joked lightly.
Charlie laughed. "You could say that. My brother loved this place. He used to drag me here any time I was in town."
"Used to? Did he move away?"
"He died," Charlie said, sadness, and perhaps a bit of anger, filled his voice.
"Oh," you paused. "I'm so sorry."
Charlie waved you off. "It's quite alright. You couldn't have known. Besides I've had plenty of time to cope. But his death is actually the reason I moved to New York. The city reminds me of him...his memory is infused within every inch of it."
"That's actually quite beautiful," you said softly.
Charlie smiled softly. "Well enough of that. Onto happier matters."
And with that, the conversation flowed as easily as water. Charlie struck you as a kind and gentle man. He was very sweet, an excellent conversationalist, and very intelligent. He also seemed to know most of the staff at the restaurant, as well as several of the patrons. All around, he seemed like an incredible man. By the end of the night, you were smitten.
**********
"Yo, Steve. What's with Buck?"
Steve sighed. "You know how he gets, Sam. Always up in his head about something."
"He seems worse tonight..." Carter commented.
"Well don't let him hear you say that. It'll probably only piss him off more."
"Is it about that chick...what the heck was her name? Savannah?" Sam asked.
Steve chuckled. "Sasha. Bucky said he broke up with her yesterday."
"It's not like he was that into her anyway," Carter interjected.
"Well...we all know why that is, don't we?" Sam asked lightly.
"Oh really? Well why don't you enlighten us then, Samuel?" Bucky said as he entered the living room.
All three men were quiet as they waited for Bucky to just let it go and continue with the evening. Bucky, as always, had other plans. "Well? Go on, then."
Sam sighed. "You never really like the women you date. At least not the way most people do."
Steve winced and Bucky raised his eyebrows. "Oh please continue," Bucky said.
"I'm just saying...we get it, ya know? No one else is ever going to compare."
Steve closed his eyes and Carter let out a whispered, "Ooo."
"Compare to...?" Bucky asked, clearly daring Sam to continue.
"(Y/N)," Sam stated, refusing to back down.
Steve and Carter made eye contact and started to rise from their seats, eager to leave the room while Bucky tore Sam a new one. But they weren't fast enough.
"Sit down," Bucky ordered.
The men immediately complied and waited to hear what would come next. To their surprise, it wasn't a verbal beating, but a pained acknowledgment.
"I wish I could say you were wrong. But my very small world revolves around one single human being and there are days when my soul aches with loneliness. I wish I could change the way things are. I wish I could forget her just as much as I wish I could be hers. But every decision I have made, every choice...they were mine alone. I created a barrier I can't remove, and for that, I will suffer eternally." Bucky sat down with a sigh and took a long swig of his bourbon.
The other three men looked at each other in utter shock. This was the first time Bucky had ever "publicly" acknowledged how he felt about (Y/N). Even in private, he was very careful about what he said to anyone other than Steve. Apparently, Bucky'd had more to drink that evening than any of them thought.
Bucky seemed, at least for a moment, to regain his composure. "If any of you breathe a single word of this to (Y/N), you will not live to see the next sunrise."
In any other situation between friends, they'd likely laugh it off...but with James Buchanan Barnes, murder was not something to be regarded as a joke. Not only was he perfectly capable of killing, he was more than willing if it was required.
**********
The next morning, Steve began his research into Charlie Reynolds. He had contacts all over the city and most of them owed him at least one favor. The first couple people he asked had no idea who "Charlie Reynolds" was, but were able to refer him to other people that may have information.
By lunchtime, Steve was starting to get discouraged. Not a single person he'd spoken to all morning had ever even heard the name, let alone have any dirt.
It wasn't until later in the evening that Steve received a call from a friend of a friend's brother, claiming he had Information on Reynolds.
"Mr. Rogers, I understand you're looking for information on Charlie Reynolds."
"That would be correct. Do you know him?"
"Not personally, but I know of him. He's a businessman from California."
"California? Do you know why he's come to New York?"
"I've heard some rumors that he's expanding his business here."
"Interesting. And what business would that be exactly?"
The man sighed. "I honestly don't know. However, my cousin's best friend lives out in California and apparently knows Reynolds personally."
"Does this cousin's best friend have a phone number?"
Two minutes later, Steve was dialing the number the caller had given him.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Mr. Collins. My name is Steve Rogers. I got your information from a friend. I'm looking for information on a Charlie Reynolds. He's apparently a businessman in California."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. Then Collins responded hesitantly, "What sort of information?"
"Anything you know would be very helpful."
"May I ask what this is regarding?"
"I'm a private investigator and I've been hired on a very sensitive matter involving Mr. Reynolds," Steve lied smoothly.
"I see. Well, I can at least confirm that he is, in fact, a businessman here in LA."
"Excellent. And what is his business?"
Collins paused. "Well he's very private about it."
"I understand. I can be very discreet. It's what I'm paid to do." At least that part was true.
"Okay, well...just don't mention where you got any of this information, okay? If it comes back to me, it's my head."
Steve thought the man might be a bit dramatic, but he indulged him for the time being. "You have my word."
"Reynolds is in the underground world. Drugs, guns, money, sex trafficking, the works. If it's illegal, Reynolds knows how to procure it. He's the go-to guy for pretty much anything in Southern California."
"Interesting," Steve said. "Is it just him running this or is he part of some sort of organization?"
Collins laughed harshly. "Part of? Hell no, man. Reynolds runs the damn thing. He's the kingpin. There's not a person in this city who isn't afraid of him."
"I see." Steve took a breath to ensure his tone remained level. "My understanding is that you may know Reynolds on a more personal level."
Collins was silent for several seconds. "I actually met him in college. Back before he decided to return to the family business."
"Family business?"
"Apparently his dad and older brother were mafiosos back in New York."
Steve's breath caught in his chest. He'd never heard of a Reynolds family being a part of the underground network in New York.
"After his dad died, Charlie changed. It was like his entire personality had turned dark. He quickly amassed followers to do his bidding. He pretty much took over the underground market in LA before he was even 25," Collins continued.
"I don't know of any Reynolds families in the mafia scene in New York," Steve commented.
"Oh, well that's because he changed his name when he moved to California. His real name is Charlie Mulligan."
Steve's heart stopped in his chest. The pieces of the puzzle began to click into place. "He's Kevin Mulligan's kid?"
"Yeah, I think that was his dad's name. Brother's name is Keenan."
Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I appreciate all the information you've given me. No one will know we've spoken."
"Good. I appreciate that."
"Of course. Goodbye."
"Bye."
When Steve hung up the phone he stood in the middle of his living room in stunned silence. Charlie's unexpected return to New York only a month after his brother's murder could only mean one thing...he was looking for answers.
Steve immediately dialed his phone. The second it connected, he spoke, "Buck? We need to talk. It's urgent."
"What's wrong?"
"It's about Charlie Reynolds."
"Who?"
"The guy (Y/N)'s been seeing."
"I'm home. Come now."
Steve was out the door before he'd even hung up the phone.
**********
Bucky's front door flew open before Steve could even knock. Bucky gestured for him to come in and quickly shut the door behind him.
"What did you find out?"
"You may want to sit down," Steve advised.
Bucky raised his eyebrows, but took a seat in the front room, gesturing for Steve to sit in the chair across from him.
"Everyone I spoke to had never heard of Charlie Reynolds," Steve began.
"Then what's the urgency for?"
"Because after talking to people all day, I finally spoke to someone who knew his name."
"Go on."
"Reynolds is a business man from California."
"What kind of business?"
"Our kind," Steve said simply. "Except worse."
Bucky paled. "Why is he here?"
"According to someone I spoke to in California, Reynolds essentially owns the underground market in LA. Anything illegal goes through him. He can get you anything you want. Drugs, money, guns, women. Anything."
"Why is he here?" Bucky asked again, clearly impatient.
"He's from here."
"I don't remember any mafia Reynolds families."
Steve took a deep breath. "That's because he changed his name. His real name is Mulligan."
Bucky's eyes darkened and his skin paled even farther. "Mulligan."
Steve nodded. "Keenan was his older brother."
Bucky's breathing quickened. "He knows who I am?"
"I think we should assume so."
"So he knows who (Y/N) is."
Steve nodded again. "It seems likely."
Bucky immediately stood up and walked into another room, emerging moments later with his phone. He tapped the first favorite in his contacts and the phone began to ring. After several rings, it went to voicemail. Bucky called it three more times and each time it went to voicemail. "She's not answering."
Steve's eyes widened. "You don't think--?"
"We need to find her. Now."
Steve immediately sent out the call to the most trusted guys. He sent each of them out to scour the town for (Y/N) with strict instructions to call him the moment they found her.
Bucky was pacing, clearly emotional.
"We'll find her, Buck."
Bucky stopped and looked at his friend. "What if we don't?"
"We will."
Bucky took a deep breath. "We can't just stand around. We need to go out and look for her."
"I've got 10 guys out looking now. Sam and Carter are on the way to her house. Someone will find her."
Bucky didn't look convinced. "How much do you think he knows?"
"Reynolds?"
Bucky nodded.
"I think we should assume he knows everything and work from there."
Bucky began to pace again, deep in thought. It was several minutes before he stoped. "I think I know where we need to go."
Steve waited for him to elaborate, but he simply walked to the front door and stepped outside. Steve quickly followed him, not wanting Bucky to go anywhere alone. "Where are we going?"
"Just get in the car. I'll drive."
Steve looked surprised, but he didn't argue. He knew better than that.
Twenty five minutes later, it became evident where they were headed. The warehouse district. Steve looked over at Bucky, but his focus was on the road ahead.
"Do you want me to call for backup?"
"No. Not until we're sure."
Five minutes later, they pulled up next to an old abandoned warehouse. A warehouse which happened to be situated right next door to one Bucky owned. From where they were parked, they could clearly see three dark Suburbans parked by a side door into the warehouse.
"Sometimes, I hate being right," Bucky muttered. "Call the guys. Meet them here."
Steve nodded and Bucky got out of the car. "Wait, where are you going?"
"Inside," Bucky responded as he shrugged his suit jacket back on.
"Are you insane? You're not going in without backup."
Bucky leveled a glare at Steve that could easily make a grown man whimper in fear. "Do not follow me until the others arrive."
"Bucky, that could be 30 minutes from now!"
"You think I don't know that? I'm not waiting 30 minutes. I can't just stand out here while that asshole is in there doing god knows what to her! I can't watch her die!" Bucky exclaimed emotionally. He took a deep breath and said in a more even tone, "And I'm sure as hell not leading you to the slaughter either."
Steve sighed, but he nodded. "Just make sure you come back alive, okay?"
Bucky smiled and walked across the dark alley to one of the more hidden entrances. Bucky may have the home court advantage, but Reynolds still had the upper hand.
**********
*Earlier*
"Charlie, where in the world are we going?" You asked.
"Patience, my dear. You'll see."
You sighed. You knew better than to ask him again. He seemed to love surprises. He'd showed up at your office with lunch from your favorite Thai place. Then he'd begged you to let him take you out to dinner again, and you just couldn't say no. He was so sweet and caring. It was quite endearing.
It wasn't until you started seeing areas of town you didn't recognize that you got concerned. "Umm, Charlie? What are we doing in the warehouse district?"
Charlie shot you a grin. "It's a surprise."
There was something about the grin that made you shudder. You tried to brush it off, but there was a nagging feeling in your mind that you couldn't erase. You started to think maybe you shouldn't ignore it...how well did you really know this man anyway? You'd only known him for a little over 24 hours. The only reason you'd let your guard down was because Carter had recommended him...only you'd never asked Carter about it. Which now you realized may have been a fatal mistake. "Stop the car," you demanded.
Charlie simply ignored you and picked up speed.
"Stop. The. Car. Now."
Charlie laughed, and it sent chills down your spine.
"I'm not kidding, Charlie. Let me out."
"That's not going to happen. You see, I have plans for tonight...and I need you for those plans. It's easier if you're a willing participant, but you certainly don't have to be. In fact, it might be more fun that way."
Your heart began to race and your blood went cold. You knew how to defend yourself, but you'd had several glasses of wine with dinner, all at Charlie's insistence of course, and you were feeling quite tipsy. Your brain felt foggy and you were struggling to figure out a way out of the mess you'd managed to get yourself into.
Charlie pulled into the parking lot of a warehouse you vaguely recognized as one of the several Bucky owned throughout the city. "Why are we here?" You couldn't quite keep the fear out of your voice and it only served to anger you.
Charlie smiled coldly. "You'll see."
The moment he turned to get himself out of the car, you flung the passenger side door open and leapt out, running towards civilization. You didn't get more than a few feet before large arms picked you up and began to carry you back towards the ominous building. You screamed, kicked, and punched as best you could, but it seemed to make no difference.
You looked up at the man who had restrained you and gulped. He was a very large man. Maybe 6'5", 280lbs of pure muscle. You weren't getting away, no matter how hard you tried. The realization brought tears to your eyes. I'm going to die tonight.
"Where do you want her, boss?" the big man asked.
"Follow me."
Charlie led the way into the building, the man carrying you and three others followed after him.
Eventually, you reached an inner room that you'd never seen before. There was plastic tarp on the walls and floors and a single chair in the middle of the room. "Please," you whimpered.
Charlie laughed again. "Oh I do like it when you beg." He gestured to the man holding you. "Sit her there and zip tie her to the chair. Make sure it's tight."
You struggled the entire way, but the big man easily maneuvered you. With some help from one of the other men, they made quick work of securing your arms and legs to the chair. The zip ties dug into your skin and the more you moved, the more painful it became...which was probably the point.
Charlie grabbed a chair from the far corner of the room and sat it directly in front of yours. He sat down on it and leaned forward to look at you closely. "Do you know why you're here, (Y/N)?"
"No."
"Hmm," he leaned back. "Well, do you know where we are?"
"Yes."
"And where would that be?"
"In a warehouse."
"Do you really wish to make this difficult?" he asked menacingly.
"Not particularly, but it certainly isn't simple."
Charlie chuckled. "You know, under different circumstances, I really do think we'd make quite a power couple."
"I think I'll stick with being alone, thanks."
He laughed. "You're no weak woman. I like that. Stubborn too."
You didn't say anything, but your eyes never left his.
Charlie sighed. "Perhaps I should reword the question. Do you know who owns this warehouse?"
"Yes."
"And that would be?"
"James Barnes," you said reluctantly.
The mention of his name seemed to anger Charlie and it made you worry that you'd said the wrong thing.
"That's correct." Charlie stood and began to pace around the room. "James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky to his friends, yes? I've learned quite a lot about this 'Bucky' in the last month or so. Quite a lot."
"Don't call him that," you snapped.
"Ohh, did I touch a nerve, sweetheart?" he asked as he caressed your cheek from behind you.
You jerked your head away from him. "Only people he cares about can call him that."
"Ahh, so only the people he loves then?" he whispered in your ear.
You didn't respond. There was no point.
"Do you know what it is Mr. Barnes does for a living, (Y/N)?"
"I'm his attorney, which I assume you already know."
"Quite right. And as his attorney, you handle his affairs?"
"Some of them, yes."
"Well are you aware what happens in this very room?"
You shook your head. "He's not obligated to tell me all of his activities."
"Perhaps not, but I'm sure he does. At least most of them, yes?"
"I think that's quite unlikely."
He laughed. "Odd, seeing as how the two of you were childhood friends."
You inhaled sharply.
"Oh yes, I know about that. I know about your little friend, Steve Rogers as well. I know quite a lot about all of you, in fact."
"Then what do you need me for? Since you already know everything."
He smiled and leaned forward, placing one hand on each of the chair arms. "I like hearing you admit to everything. Besides, I want to see how much you really know. So if you could just be honest for me, dearest, that would be so helpful." He paused. "I don't want to have to hurt you." He ran a finger across your cheek and down your neck.
You tried to pull away from him, but there was no where to go. "I don't want to help you."
"It doesn't matter what you want. You're going to help me willingly, or I'll force you to help me. The choice is entirely yours."
You glared at him, but remained silent.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw one of the other men step forward with a small pouch in his hand. He handed it to Charlie, who took it gratefully. He laid it on the chair beside him and began to unroll it. He took out each item and examined them carefully under the light, making sure you had a good view of each one.
The first item he took out appeared to be a rasp, like the ones ferriers use to trim a horse's hoof. The second was a very sharp, very long blade. You couldn't quite make out the third, but it was small and shiny. The fourth was a pair of pliers. Each item he pulled out was clearly used for torture. You were no fool. You knew they were meant for you.
“So that’s your plan then? Torture me?”
Charlie smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll only hurt you if I have to.”
“What exactly do you want, Charlie?”
He seemed to be annoyed at your use of his first name, but he didn’t correct you. “I want Barnes.”
You gave him an odd look and waited for him to continue.
“I want to watch him squirm. I want to see him in pain. I want him to sob and beg for mercy as I take everything from him.” Charlie sighed. “And then I want to slit his throat.”
“Why exactly do you hate him so much?”
“Because he’s a murderer!” He yelled.
You were taken aback by the hostility in his voice. “And you’re not?” You asked softly.
“I am when I have to be.”
“But he’s just a monster? How is that not hypocritical?”
Charlie walked over to you, knife in hand. He leaned forward menacingly and touched the edge of the blade to your cheek. “He killed my brother, (Y/N). He deserves to die.”
This was news to you. You weren’t stupid. You knew who Bucky was…what he was. People around him had the habit of disappearing or dying under mysterious circumstances. But in your experience, none of those people had been innocents. None had been good people. “Who was your brother?”
Charlie slid the blade down, nicking your skin just enough to draw blood. “When I was 18, I decided to change my last name. Distance myself from my family and the blood on their hands. But life has a way of pulling you back in…I suppose you could say I was born for it.” He paused. “My last name was Mulligan.”
Your eyes widened and you let out a slight gasp. “Keenan,” you whispered.
“I’m sorry your brother is dead. I can’t imagine how difficult that must be for you.”
For some reason, your sympathy only made him angrier. “I don’t need your sympathy. What I need is answers!”
“I can’t give you any. I don’t know anything about his death.” It’s true. You didn’t know anything.
“Liar.” Charlie picked up the rasp and moved towards you again. “Tell me what you know.”
“I don’t know anything.”
He laid the rasp on your arm. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying.”
He slowly ran the rasp across your arm, placing pressure on it as he went. You cried out in pain as the skin on your arm was sliced by dozens of tiny metal pieces.
“Tell me what you know.”
“I don’t know anything!” You yelled.
“Give me Barnes!” He yelled back.
You paled, realizing what he was really asking for. “It doesn’t matter what you do to me. I will never betray him. Never.”
“So be it.”
The sounds of your screams echoed through the empty building…
*Now*
When Bucky entered the warehouse, it was completely silent. Normally that might not bother him, but in this moment it was more terrifying than he could have imagined. He made his way deeper into the warehouse, knowing there were only one or two places Reynolds was likely to take you.
He was about 50 feet away from the first room when he heard your scream.
Without thinking, he drew his gun and raced into the room. It took him mere moments to assess the situation. He saw you tied to a chair in the center of the room, beaten and bloody. Reynolds was standing behind you. The moment Bucky entered the room, Reynolds put a knife to your throat.
His henchmen each pointed a gun at Bucky, making him severely out numbered and out gunned.
“Let her go,” Bucky stated.
Reynolds laughed and tightened his grip on the knife, bringing tears to your eyes as the blade bit into your skin. “Barnes! Welcome. Welcome. Make yourself at home.”
Bucky stared at Reynolds like he’d grown a second head. “I said, let her go.”
“We both know that’s not going to happen. So go ahead and put your gun down before I slit her throat.”
Bucky looked at you then. Really, truly looked at you…and felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. Your face was bloody and he could already see black and blue marks developing on your skin. Your arms and legs were even bloodier and it was clear you were in a lot of pain. “(Y/N/N),” he whispered.
“I’m okay,” you murmured.
Bucky looked back up at Reynolds. “Why are you doing this? She’s an innocent.”
“Oh please, Barnes. She’s your attorney. She’s far from innocent.”
“She doesn’t deserve this.”
Reynolds shrugged. “I’ll be the judge of that. Now, please, be a good boy and drop the gun.” He emphasized his statement by digging the knife into your throat a little more, blood trickling down your neck.
“Don’t hurt her,” Bucky begged. “I’ll put it down.” He started to bend down to drop the gun, but paused when he heard you speak.
“No, Bucky. Don’t.” Your voice was barely audible. The knife against your throat making it difficult to speak. “He’ll kill you.”
Bucky sat the gun on the ground. “Better me than you.”
“No…” you whispered.
Reynolds laughed and nodded to his men, one of which picked up Bucky’s gun and forced him to his knees. “Now…where were we?”
Your eyes searched for Bucky’s and when his gaze met yours, you could see the anger in his blue eyes. But what scared you, downright terrified you, was the fear you saw. Bucky was never afraid of anything. It was a defining feature of his personality. But right now, in this moment, Bucky Barnes was afraid.
Reynolds removed the knife from your throat and you breathed a sigh of relief. “Alright Barnes. Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna ask a question, you’re gonna answer it honestly. Lie to me, I hurt her. Refuse to answer, I hurt her. Piss me off, I hurt her. Got it?”
Bucky nodded.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”
“I understand,” Bucky said, annoyance evident in his tone.
“Wonderful. First question. Do you know who I am?”
“Charles Mulligan. Goes by Charlie Reynolds these days.”
“Very good. Someone did their homework.” He leaned forward to stage whisper in your ear conspiratorially, “I’m guessing it was Steve.”
You didn’t respond, but that didn’t deter Reynolds. “Second question. Do you know why I’m here?”
“I’m assuming it has something to do with your brother’s death.”
“Right again. Question three. Did you murder my brother?”
Bucky responded instantly and firmly, “No, I did not.”
Reynolds sighed. “Wrong answer,” he said as he stabbed a smaller blade directly into your exposed thigh, eliciting a cry of pain from you.
“Please! Don’t hurt her,” Bucky yelled, struggling against the man who held him in place. “I didn’t kill your brother.”
Reynolds looked angry. “Don’t lie to me, James. I’ll kill her without a second thought.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Then let me rephrase the question. Did you have my brother murdered?”
Bucky was silent for a moment, seemingly weighing his options. He decided the truth was the safer bet, especially with your life on the line. “Yes, I did.”
You inhaled sharply and Bucky kept his eyes from meeting yours. He didn’t want to see the disgust on your face.
“See? I told you he killed him,” Reynolds said to you.
“Technically he didn’t,” you mumbled.
“Why do you still defend him?” He yelled.
You remained silent. There was no need to voice your reasoning. Reynolds didn’t really care anyway.
“You’re pathetic,” he murmured before turning his attention back to Bucky. “You had my brother killed right here in this very room, didn’t you?”
Bucky closed his eyes. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he was making too many mistakes. Bringing too much heat to the city. People were starting to take notice and it was bad for business.”
“You could have talked to him.”
“I did. Several times, actually. He refused to get his shit together. So I did what I had to do to protect my own.”
Reynolds didn’t look pleased with this response. “You didn’t even have the decency to do it yourself. Too good to get your hands dirty?”
“I can’t run a business like this if I don’t delegate.”
“Delegate.” Reynolds huffed loudly. “You see that’s where we differ. I like to do things myself. I’m very hands on.” He slid the longer blade across your upper arm, slicing the skin.
“I didn’t lie!” Bucky insisted.
Reynolds shrugged. “I was proving a point.”
“Look. Your issue is clearly with me. Just let her go and you can do whatever you want to me.”
“While that sounds like an enticing offer, I’m going to have to decline. You see, I hold all the cards. I don’t need to make a deal with you.” He walked forward and leaned down so his face was mere inches from Bucky’s. “You took someone I love from me and now you have to pay for it. I’m going to kill the person you love most while you watch, completely helpless.”
You barked out a loud laugh from across the room. All eyes were on you as you continued to laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you choked out between giggles. “It’s just…you picked the wrong girl.” You laughed some more. “He doesn’t love me. Not like that.”
Reynolds stared at you for a moment, contemplating your statement. He turned his attention back to Bucky. “She’s your lover, yes?”
Bucky shook his head. “Best friend, actually.”
Now it was Reynolds’ turn to laugh. “Oh is that all? I think not, Mr. Barnes. You would not lay down your life for a mere friend. Not if you are even half as ruthless as people say you are.”
You were slightly surprised by the exchange. You knew very well you were nothing more than a friend to Bucky. It had always been that way and you’d learned to be okay with it. To accept it. “Tell him, Bucky. Tell him you don’t love me like that.”
Bucky looked up at you and you were surprised to see pain in his eyes.
Bucky looked from you to Reynolds and then back to you again. “I can’t tell him that, (Y/N).”
Reynolds grinned. “Oh excellent. This is better than a movie.” He stepped back to watch the exchange with a giddy expression on his face. He was clearly enjoying the agony both you and Bucky were in.
“Why not, Bucky?” You asked softly.
“I cannot lie.”
Those three words rocked your world. You sat there in stunned silence, letting the meaning of his statement sink in.
"Aren't you going to respond, (Y/N)?" Reynolds prodded.
You turned to glare at him. "No. Our lives, our feelings, and our pain are not for your amusement. We aren't playthings. We're real people."
Reynolds rolled his eyes. "Boring." He walked back towards you, knife pointed in your direction. "As much as I would enjoy digging into this all night, I do have a schedule to keep." He spoke as if you hadn't just completely shut him down. "I think now the question is, how should I kill you? Long, slow, and torturous, so as to prolong his pain? Or perhaps nice and quick, so I can enjoy his agony for longer?"
You leaned forward as far as you could. "It doesn't matter which one you choose. Either way, your life is over the moment I die."
Reynolds looked surprised. "How do you figure?"
"They will never stop hunting you. There is no where on this earth you can go where they won't find you. You will spend every second of your life scared and on the run, until you suddenly find yourself in a situation not so different from this one, except you'll be the one in the chair."
Reynolds laughed loudly. "Who's going to hunt me down little girl? Once you're dead, I'm going to kill him," he said gesturing to Bucky. "No one will be the wiser. The only witnesses are in this room."
You smiled coldly. "I know. The one person who would without a doubt avenge my death is Bucky. But his death?" you chuckled and shook your head. "There are hundreds of people who will avenge him. Every single person in his organization, every family member, the best hitmen money can buy...they'll all be looking for you."
For the first time that night, Reynolds looked worried. The color had drained from his face and he seemed to be troubled by your words. He cleared his throat and attempted to collect himself. "That's nonsense."
"She's right," Bucky stated. "Everyone will want you dead, but not just if you kill me. You've already done enough to her to earn you a life as a fugitive. There has always been one rule in my organization that comes before all others. Just one. 'Any act of violence towards (Y/N), whether it be verbal or physical, is an act of war against us all.' You just signed your own death sentence."
Your eyes widened and your lips parted in surprise. You'd never heard such a rule before. In fact, you had no idea that Bucky made his entire organization protect you. You thought it was just him and Steve...like it had always been. Perhaps that was naive of you.
"That's an actual rule?" Reynolds asked in shock.
"It was the first rule I ever made. And every single one of my men knows it. They will abide by it, as they always have."
"What about your life?" you asked quietly.
Bucky looked at you in surprise. "My life?"
"Yes. You're their leader. What about your life?"
Bucky shook his head. "I'm nothing without you."
Reynolds watched the exchange in silence. He was quite surprised by the depth of emotion Barnes clearly had for (Y/N). He had assumed that the infamous mafia boss was much like himself, cruel and incapable of real love. Even he had to admit it was endearing...just not enough to make him change his mind. "Enough of this sappy nonsense. I'm not afraid of anyone or anything." He looked at Bucky. "I decided you had to pay for my brother's death, so pay you will." He turned to look at you. "And I'm sorry, but you're the price he has to pay." With that, he made his way towards you and knelt down in front of you.
Bucky desperately tried to get up, to get to you, to do something, but he was quickly pinned to the ground by two of the henchmen.
You saw him struggling and tears streamed down your cheeks. You knew this was it. You were going to die. For the first time in your life, Bucky Barnes was not going to save you.
You felt the tip of the blade against your stomach and you looked down towards the man kneeling in front of you. He looked up at you and smirked slightly before sliding the knife directly into your stomach. You gasped in pain and you watched as blood began to seep from the wound. You vaguely heard the sound of Bucky yelling, but your mind was in a daze.
Reynolds stood up, leaving the knife buried in your gut. He walked over towards Bucky and knelt beside him on the ground...and just watched.
Bucky's struggling only increased and you could hear him calling your name. You slowly looked across the room, making eye contact with the man you had loved your entire life. Agony was etched into his handsome features and it broke your heart. You were the one dying, and yet somehow he was the one you felt sorry for.
"I should have told you before," you said softly.
Bucky stopped struggling so he could hear what you were saying.
"My whole life, you protected me. Maybe I sometimes resented it." you paused to take a few breaths. "You were my best friend, my confidant, my home." Another shaky inhale. "I have loved you my whole life, James. And I will love you long after I'm gone." Your breathing was much more labored now and your head began to droop. You could feel your body becoming weaker as you lost more blood.
"(Y/N/N), (Y/N/N), please. Stay with me," Bucky pleaded.
There was a sudden loud noise and you heard yelling. Your eyes were struggling to stay open and you couldn't focus on anything. You heard what sounded like gunfire, followed by more yelling. Everything was a blur and your ears were ringing.
There were hands on yours and you felt the zip ties that had been cutting into your skin break. You didn't understand what was happening, but you could hear muffled voices...were they speaking to you? "Bucky..." you muttered.
You felt your body being lifted up and then laid on something flat. You were starting to drift towards unconsciousness and your mind was unable to focus. You felt hands on your stomach and an intense pressure that you didn't understand. What is happening?
"(Y/N)? (Y/N), can you hear me?" a voice asked, breaking through the haze. I know that voice, you thought.
"Bu...ck...y," you breathed out slowly.
"It's me. I'm here. I'm right here. You're gonna be okay. Just stay with me baby. Stay with me."
Those were the last words you heard before the darkness overtook you, and then there was nothing.
**********
You woke up to the sound of rhythmic beeping. At first you thought it was your alarm clock, but then you realized it didn't sound quite right. You tried to open your eyes, but you found your eyelids to be almost too heavy to open.
You tried to shift your body, but a sharp pain in your abdomen kept you in place. Where am I?
The beeping continued, but as you started to wake up more, your brain realized what the beeping was...a heart monitor. Am I in a hospital?
Your eyelids finally cooperated and your retinas were assaulted by the suddenly bright lights. You groaned audibly as your eyes fluttered shut again.
You heard rustling beside you. "(Y/N)?" The voice was soft and familiar. So very familiar. Why is it so familiar?
You sighed and turned your head towards the voice, forcing your eyelids open again. The lights were still too bright, but this time you could see a man sitting beside your bed. He was blurry and out of focus, but you were absolutely certain you knew him.
The man leaned forward and said your name a second time. "(Y/N)?" He grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze.
And then you knew. "Bucky," you croaked, your voice coming out hoarse and low.
Bucky jumped up. "Let me get you some water."
He returned moments later with a small cup of water and a straw, which he helped you drink. The liquid soothed your achy throat and you smiled gratefully. "Thanks," you whispered.
"Of course, doll." He sat back down beside you. "How are you feeling?"
You shrugged slightly. "I don't know...I--how did I get here? What happened?"
Bucky's face paled. "You don't remember?"
You shook your head and tried to sit up, but that same pain in your stomach made it impossible. It was such a sharp pain that you winced and inhaled sharply.
"Hey, easy there. Don't try to move."
"It hurts," you said softly. "So sharp. Almost like--like a stabbing pain." The moment the words left your mouth, you remembered. The memories slammed into your brain, drowning you in pain. You touched your forehead and felt bandages there. You blinked rapidly to get your eyes to adjust. When everything came into focus, you saw that your arms and hands were bandaged in various places. Your hands began to shake and Bucky immediately stood up and took your hands in his.
"Hey, it's okay, doll. You're safe."
You looked up at him and tears filled your eyes. "I thought I was going to die."
Bucky's eyes were sad and you could see just how exhausted he was. "So did I."
"I'm sorry, Bucky," you whispered.
He looked surprised. "For what? You didn't do anything wrong."
You shook your head. "I let my guard down too soon. He just...he seemed so nice and I thought--" tears streamed down your cheeks.
Bucky immediately brushed them away. "None of it was your fault, doll. It's my job to protect you and I failed. So if anyone is to blame, it's me."
"You didn't do anything wrong."
Bucky laughed. "God you're stubborn."
You smiled slightly.
Bucky sat back down beside you and sighed softly.
"Buck?"
"Yeah, sweets?"
"What happened after--after I got stabbed?"
Bucky closed his eyes for a moment, pain ghosting across his features as he remembered that very moment. "Steve came to the rescue."
"Steve? By himself?"
Bucky shook his head. "Steve and pretty much every NYPD officer in all of Brooklyn."
"What?"
"Yeah, I was surprised too. Turns out, Reynolds was a bigger fish...or maybe just a good way for the NYPD to one-up the LAPD. They got him on 2 counts of attempted murder, kidnapping, and torture. Plus a couple drug and gun charges. Oh and aggravated assault of a police officer."
"Apparently I missed a lot."
"Oh yeah. Thankfully, EMS was there too, so they were able to help you right away."
"They didn't try to arrest you?"
Bucky shrugged. "For what? Getting kidnapped? Trying to save the love of my life? Almost getting killed? They didn't exactly have anything to hold me on."
While you were glad Bucky was alive, seemingly okay, and not on his way to prison, your focus shifted almost entirely to one part of his statement. "The love of your life?" you asked softly.
He blushed. "I know some of last night might be a blur to you...but you did confess your undying love for me, so..." he grinned.
You laughed. Truly laughed. For the first time since you woke up. It made your stomach ache, but you didn't care. "Don't make me laugh. It hurts," you said lightly. "I do remember saying something to that effect."
Bucky smiled and gently touched your face. "And if you recall, I confessed mine. Just perhaps, not in as many words."
"Hmm, I can't quite remember what you said. Maybe you could remind me?" you teased.
He chuckled. "I think it was something like, '(Y/N) (Y/L/N), you are the greatest thing that's ever happened to me and I can't imagine life without you. I have loved you my entire life...long before I even knew what love was. I'm going to love you every single day of my life and for the rest of eternity after that. I know I will never be worthy of your love, but I'm going to spend every single day trying to earn it."
You let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. "Bucky..." you whispered. "I don't think you said it quite like that."
He laughed heartily. "You're a dork."
You grinned. "You love it."
"I do indeed. Our banter has suddenly taken on new meaning."
You smiled and touched his hand. "I think the meaning was always there. We just pretended it wasn't."
"Touche." He leaned down and kissed your hand.
"Really? I almost died and that's all I get?"
Bucky rolled his eyes playfully. He stood up and leaned over you, placing a warm, gentle kiss to your lips. You kissed him back and you felt a warmth spread throughout your entire body.
When he broke the kiss, he whispered, "Better?"
You giggled. "Much better." You paused. "So...what's the plan?"
"Plan?" he asked in confusion.
"Ya know...us."
Understanding lit up his face. "Ahh. Well. I was thinking I would take you out to dinner."
"Dinner? Hmm."
"Yes." Bucky said warmly. "Every day for the rest of our lives."
Your face lit up. "I'd be okay if you cooked occasionally."
He laughed. "You're not allowed in my kitchen."
You smacked him affectionately. "It was one time!"
"You almost burned half the house down!"
You were both laughing like idiots when Steve walked into the room. "Glad to see you're awake and in such good spirits."
"Stevie!" you said with a smile.
He walked over to you and leaned down to give you a hug. "How you feeling, (Y/N/N)?"
"Like I got hit by a train and stabbed in the stomach, but otherwise just peachy. You?"
Steve winced.
"Hey," you said softly. "I'm okay. Really."
He offered you a small smile. "I knew you would be. You're tougher than all of us put together."
"That's true," Bucky agreed.
"You're both full of it," you said with a smile. "But I'm glad to see you're okay too, Steve."
"I'm resilient."
"They say that about cockroaches too," you teased.
"Damn, girl. I'm gonna blame that on the plethora of drugs you're on."
You grinned. "Nah, that was 100% me."
Steve smiled and Bucky chuckled.
You looked between the two men and sighed, grabbing each of their hands. "Thank you," you said sincerely.
"You never have to thank us. It's just what we do," Steve said.
"Speaking of," you began. "Steve, what's Bucky's number one rule?"
"You mean for life or for the organization?"
"The organization."
"Oh, this is really not important," Bucky began, but a look from you silenced him instantly.
Steve looked back and forth between you two and finally answered when Bucky shrugged and put his hands in the air. "It's a simple rule and it's been that way pretty much our whole lives. When we were kids it was 'you mess with (Y/N), you deal with us.' When we grew up and things changed, the rule grew up too. 'Any act of violence towards (Y/N), whether it be verbal or physical, is an act of war against us all.'"
You looked at Bucky. "You weren't making that up."
Bucky shook his head. "You've always been my number one priority."
You smiled, a soft blush creeping into your cheeks. "Is this written down in some kind of handbook?"
The two men laughed. "Yes, we have a 'rules for the mafia' handbook," Bucky joked.
"I knew it." You grinned.
Bucky just shook his head and smiled at you. "I love you, you weirdo."
"I love you too," you said softly.
Steve looked at you, then at Bucky, then back at you again. "I guess I missed a lot."
Bucky shrugged. "I've spent far too long hiding my feelings. Life's too short."
You squeezed Bucky's hand. "There's no one I'd rather spend it with."
"Fucking, finally!" Steve said proudly.
The three of you laughed. You couldn't have imagined being this happy, especially given the events of the last 24 hours, but here you were...alive and with the man you loved. Perhaps life really does find a way after all.
Bucky being held in a special institution during his recovery after Catws (bc he didn't run away haha what are you talking about HAHA civil war isn't real)
He just walks around soullesly, scaring the fuck out of everyone around him like he's just gonna snap and start breaking everyone's necks, but of course he doesn't
He never makes a scene during his daily check ups and always follows orders with a blank expression
He even soothes his nurses doctors caretakers and everyone "it's okay, you don't need to be scared" no matter how little it works
Of course he doesn't have his arm, it's confiscated and is being worked on. Even if he was scared to get it removed at first, he reluctantly got used to it, not minding the balance issues he started having with one very heavy arm gone
No one is allowed to see him for months, beyond the live cctv footage that's shown to Steve because he looked like he would start a fight if he was kept away from Bucky any longer. But Bucky doesn't see anyone who didn't work there
He's quite, eats his food even if he sometimes throws it up, takes his IV vits, meds, doesn't make a ruckus while getting his blood drawn for tests beyond some pathetic sounding whimpers, goes to bed when it's lights out even if he doesn't sleep, sometimes people find him randomly staring at a wall like there's something there they can't see (his later psychosis diagnosis had helped with that), sometimes wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, sometimes he cries silently in his room without bothering anyone, sometimes nurses catch him pulling his hair out muttering to himself, found scratching his abdomen and legs to the point of bleeding
But overall, he's a model patient in terms of obedience like a good little soldier
Although, no one thinks he's making progress. He's like a zombie, a living ghost, a shell of a person going through the motions on autopilot and living only inside his head. He's only attacked people twice in the past five months, and those where when he was under extreme stress and was overwhelmed from the sheer amount of people crowding around him, talking all at once, and trying to prod him. Nurses, though scared as hell, didn't really blame him for those, considering his past with experimentation. No one thinks he's going to get better, until five months later he's allowed visitation for the first time due to his good behavior, minus the two incidents, because he didn't truly harm anyone besides pushing them away to try and get out
His visitor is, of course none other than Steve, who was about to start a fight at this point to see Bucky. He's been away enough, he HAS to see him
When Bucky is brought out of his room with the knowledge of having someone who's there to see him, he, as usual, doesn't think of anything before following the caretaker out of the room
Steve is tapping his feet anxiously waiting for Bucky in the visitation room (because when someone dared telling it's better if he saw him through a glass, he almost yelled and started a fight. Face to face it is). The door opens, and Bucky walks in with a lifeless look on his face, eyes fixed down on his own feet before the caretaker nudges his arm lightly to alert him that they're here. Bucky looks up, meeting Steve's eyes and his tight, hopeful smile. He's frozen there for a second before he's charging towards him. Everyone panics, running towards him to hopefully pull him back, hold him down, and sedate him before he can do anything. They only stop because Steve yells them to do so
He steps forward just in time when Bucky jumps towards Steve, seeing his eyes filled to the brim with tears before Steve catches him to hug him tightly. Bucky wraps his arms, well, arm around Steve and instantly starts to sob against the shoulder he buried his face in.
"Stevie, I missed you so much. Where have you been?"
Steve is crying with a huge smile on his face, holding Bucky in a grip that would make any other person's ribs ache, or possibly even crack, but Bucky can take it.
"I'm so sorry, Buck. I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere."
They stay slumped on the floor in each other's arm, crying for at least 15 minutes before they calm down enough to pull back. Not entirely, just enough to look at each other. Steve is peppering that pale, dead looking, yet still handsome face with light kisses, pecking the tears on his cheeks away while Bucky laughs through violent sobs, letting the affection in with closed eyes
And that's when everyone watching goes ah, no more doubt in it, so he is human after all
Steve visits everyday after that, missing only a few times for mission, but he always let's Bucky know beforehand, and calling him (Bucky is allowed a cordless landline now! Yay!) to chat and reassure him that he's still alive and well and missing Bucky
The real improvement starts after that. Bucky starts acting, well, human. He's talking, he's looking around and not through, he's enjoying his food, thanking his caretakers, asking how their day have been, asking when is Steve coming over again
He's not better, per se, still thoroughly fucked up and stressed and easily overwhelmed and riddled with nightmares and episodes and flashbacks and headaches from restoring his fractured memory and battling literally everything else he's been through for the past 7 decades, but, he's getting there. He's trying, he wants to get better, and that's all there is to it, isn't it? No one was expecting him to get better overnight, but they were expecting him to try. And he hadn't been until now, that was the problem
Now, there's life again. There's enjoyment again. There tomorrow to look forward to again. And it just gets better and better every time he sees Steve walk through that visitation room door, or sometimes even in the gardens where he's allowed now. They color, listen to music, dance (Steve tries), sunbathe, stretch on the grass to make sure Bucky moves around, Steve combs and braids Bucky's hair, snack on the things Steve brings Bucky, Steve tells him about the modern movies he watched, about his friends and the tower and how he's already preparing a room for Bucky for when he comes home.
Home, Bucky thinks. It's not technically his home, but he doesn't care. Home is where he has Steve in his arms. It can take months, years, or another seven decades, but Bucky is willing to try now. To get better, to feel better, to heal, to love. Not because he thinks he deserves it, but because he believes Steve when he says Bucky deserves it.
summary: Being the outsider in a world of richness and crime was harder than she could’ve imagined—and Bucky would be better off with someone else.
prompt: “You don’t get it. People like you don’t end up with people like me!” — “The ring in my pocket begs to differ, my dear.”
Prompt from this post by @promptcalender
warnings: self-doubt, banter/fight, reader is depicting as being a lawyer, prompt writing, Bucky being so in love, Mob Boss!Bucky, mentions of gossip and insults, kind of proposing, not 100% proofread
author’s note: Don’t mind me over here writing another piece for Bucky.
The entire evening had been a mistake.
One failure after the other. One wrong glance stacked on the next, following her like vultures throughout the night. Whispers behind her back that tracked her every move, always clinging to her, always taunting.
It had been a disaster, and the worst of it? Bucky didn’t seem to realize.
Not a single worry line appeared on his forehead, his brows never furrowed like they so often did, his eyes never turned into that dark and menacing stare he sometimes came home with after a particular rough day. Nothing. As if gossip didn’t touch or concern him. Well, it obviously did not, because he was James Buchanan Barnes, leader not only of New York City’s underworld but of the underworld of the entire East Coast. He didn’t concern himself with the gossip of the minor families. But she was fair game—and everyone made sure she knew.
Sometimes, YN asked herself how the hell she had ended up as the girlfriend of America’s most notorious mafia leader. She didn’t belong in this world—her family never had troubles with the law or ever even gained a speeding ticket—and yet, she couldn’t withstand the charm of one Bucky Barnes after quite literally running into him on her way home from work. He had insisted on buying her dinner because she had dropped her overly overpriced Whole Foods salad she had just gotten after working another night of grueling overtime at the law firm she had just transferred to. Usually, she wasn’t the type of woman who would agree to dinner with a literal stranger, but something of Bucky Barnes had compelled her to throw everything she knew out of the literal window. It turned out to be the most fun she had had in a while, she had to give him that after hours of flowing, easy conversation, quick banter, and lingering smiles and thrown glances.
The night had ended with his number in her phone—he hadn’t asked for hers because, in his opinion, the woman should have all the power over the matter of reaching out again or not, effectively ghosting the guy she didn’t feel comfortable with in the “worst” case—and from there, everything seemed to be history.
“You are so quiet and far away over there, love.” His smooth, soft words pulled YN right out of her thoughts, but she couldn’t bear to look over at him, sitting on the other side of the backseat of the expensive Mercedes Maybach. Usually, she would hold at least his hand, fingers laced, and his thumb would rub patterns onto her skin, only he knew the meaning of, but not tonight. Tonight, she felt like a peasant dressing up and playing masquerade in the glittering world of the filthy rich. When she didn’t answer, she heard the leather as Bucky slowly turned to her and felt his gaze watching her intently, as if she was a piece of one of the old masters he considered buying—and not to hang it in his brownstone, or townhouse on the Upper East Side, or the family home just outside the city. No, he would lock it away in some vault or another.
YN had never understood it and probably would never understand because she would never buy something this expensive in her lifetime, only to lock it underground.
Silence stretched between them, and not the companionable kind. Everything was different tonight, and it physically hurt her to think about what this could all mean. Not only for her, but for them. Perhaps he would wake one fine morning in the middle of the week and realize what a horrible match he had made with her and would just send her back into the world, fighting for herself again, finding someone of better rank and better breeding.
How she had learned to loathe that phrase ever since being his plus one for the first time.
“YNN,” he spoke again with soft urgency in his tone. Bucky knew her too well, she now realized. Blinking, her eyes watched the passing streetlights on their way home. “I’m just tired, Bucky. It was a long day.” A bullshit excuse because if she were so tired, she would have snuggled into his side the moment both of them had entered the car, falling asleep on his shoulder with his lips pressed to her hairline.
Bucky knew that, too, but didn’t press the matter. Not now, at least.
It changed when the Maybach stopped in front of the townhouse she had grown to love so dearly; it would hurt her to leave it behind. The view across Central Park on the uppermost floor and patio was breathtaking every moment of every day.
Opening the door without waiting for Bucky to round the car and open it for her, YN climbed onto the sidewalk, the noise of Manhattan surrounding her, and her heels carried her across the stone toward the entrance, passerby instinctively waiting to let the woman in the evening gown pass. “YNN. Love, wait.” He tried to be calm in public, she knew, because he wasn’t one of those people who fought openly on the streets unless absolutely necessary. But she didn’t wait; instead, she opened the door to the townhouse with the fingerprint scanner to her right, pushing the masterfully crafted iron door open and vanishing behind it, hearing Bucky huff in frustration as he closed it behind himself.
“Would you mind telling me what has gotten into you? Something clearly happened, and don’t try to sell me some sorry excuse, love.” He was angry—finally something they had in common tonight—and she huffed softly while kicking off those torturous heels she already had to wear every day when she headed to work. Even quiet nights at home on her rare nights without work had been taken from her. “Go and ask your dear friends to hear what exactly has gotten into me,” YN mumbled, pulling her phone out of the clutch she had probably strangled at some point during this evening. Notifications of work-related emails and some newsletter or another scrolled across the glass, and she wiped them all away, only to face her lock screen without obstacles.
A picture of Bucky and her at Santa Monica Pier, her sitting on the railing with Bucky’s sunglasses propped on her nose she had stolen from his only moments before Steve had taken the picture, grinning brightly and raising a hand to wave at Steve, Bucky’s arm protectively wrapped around her waist as he stood right next to her, looking at her with a smile so filled with love, it almost shocked her every time she saw it. It had been such a perfect day that not even the sunburn on her nose could ruin it.
One of his hands took hold of her arm and gently turned her to face him, a finger under YN’s chin made her powerless to look anywhere but into his eyes. They were so incredibly blue, she sometimes lost herself in them when she wasn’t careful enough. And now, they stared at her in confusion and something else. “What would they tell me, love? Hm? I would prefer to hear it from you.”
It was almost laughable how clueless he seemed to be if it wasn’t so sad. With a flip of her chin, she released herself from his hold and took a step back, away from him and his distracting closeness, because she wasn’t as headstrong if he was too close. “You know exactly what they would tell you, Bucky. It’s the same tune they have sung since the first time I showed up at one of their precious gatherings, intruding into their sacred halls, dripping and sparkling with gold no normal person would ever be able to afford. And that’s what I am: normal. Ordinary. Not of the respectable and acceptable breed to mingle with everyone.” YN took a steadying breath before she continued. “I am scrutinized whenever I dare to show my face right next to yours. Does anyone care that I was the best of my class at Yale? Or that I am one of the youngest partners the law firm has ever appointed, and that I do a hell of a job? No, of course not. Because that’s nothing they care for. All they care about is money, family, and connections. Things I cannot provide. Everything else is secondary at best.”
Bucky watched her ranting, eyes focused on her face, never letting it out of sight. And when she finished, he slowly cocked a dark brow ever so slightly. “I think you give too much on gossip, YNN,” he started to smile, making her irritated. A frustrated sound escaped her, and she slammed the phone on the sideboard lining the hallway opposite the grand staircase.
“You don’t get it. People like you don’t end up with people like me!”
And that was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? She was no one in everyone’s eyes. Just a tiny light easily diminished if they just so much as pleased it. Just a lawyer with a fancy corner office and nothing else to her name. They never even heard of it before Bucky had tucked her into his side and turned her into something else, something seemingly important but not important or special at all, as soon as they had gathered firsthand evidence. Just a fluke. Nothing more. The older ladies with unmarried daughters or granddaughters of the right age whispered behind her back how Bucky would easily tire of her, and then their time would come, because everyone wanted a piece of the most powerful man they knew.
And that jewel had been stolen by a peasant thief.
Bucky’s soft and melodic chuckle forced YN to stare him into the ground, but his delight and love were too strong for her to budge under her gaze. He didn’t even flinch and instead pushed both his hands into the pockets of his perfectly tailored black slacks.
“The ring in my pocket begs to differ, my dear.”
She wanted to scream. “You still don’t get it, you moron! You—… The what?” Only after her little outburst did her mind process his words, forcing her to pause and blink. Had he actually said what her mind struggled to accept?
Bucky sighed softly and stepped up to her, closing the distance physically and emotionally. “You heard me right, dearest.” With that, his hands pulled from his pockets, and a wine-red velvet box appeared between his fingers. He didn’t open it, just let her take it in before her eyes jumped back up to his, staring without daring to breathe. “I couldn’t care less what everyone is talking behind our backs because I have learned something ever since meeting you and guilt-tripping you into a dinner date with a stranger.” That made YN laugh under her breath. “Everyone has their expectations of life and how they want to live it—my parents certainly had them for me, but above all, they wanted me to find real love. The kind of love you crave coming home to every day. The kind that ignites you and makes you want to become a better man. I have found that with you, YNN. And I do not doubt the fact that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. It’s as easy as that. And if you want that too, then I suggest you stop ruining my attempts of proposing properly to the most incredible woman I had ever the pleasure of running into, okay?”
Nodding with tears in her eyes, YN cupped his face with both her hands, coaxing him down to kiss his soft lips, and Bucky happily obliged after putting the ring box back into the pocket of his slacks. “I’m sorry if I overreacted,” she whispered against his skin and felt his strong arms wrapping around her lower back, being pulled into his strong body honed by hours of training. “Don’t apologize, my love. We just have to get you a better armor against the evil vipers in the pits of hell.” His smirk was almost wolfish, devilish even, kissing her again. “Perhaps wearing my name will help you, my dear,” followed in a whisper YN felt more than she heard before a laugh was ripped out of her when Bucky hoisted her into his arms, carrying her upstairs with laughable ease, and making sure she understood who she belonged to since the day they met.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please consider leaving a reblog, a comment, and a like ♡
authors notes: i know the college bucky hype has come and gone by now, but i watched the apparition the other day (heavily regrettable life choice) and he's just very college bucky coded with his floppy hair and then this was born, i guess.
warnings: post op setting, reader forgets who bucky is for like two seconds, this is basically a very unserious fic, fluff, a little embarrassment, i think that's it
word count: 1.3k
summary:
having your appendix removed has you waking up wondering what's real and what's not, your boyfriend included.
masterlist!
the first thing you noticed was that it felt like your blood had been replaced by syrup, warm and thick as it flowed through your veins. second was the itch right at the edge of your nose that you couldn't get to, no matter how much you scrunched it up. "mhm…" you groaned as your eyes opened slowly, squinting as the light hit you. "'s…"
you froze as your head rolled to the side and you saw him. he looked like an angel. an unfairly good looking angel with floppy hair and a devastating smile. "hey, sweetheart. how you feeling?" the nurse had already warned him that you might be a little out of it when you came back around, and he was starting to think she might have been right. "c'mon, baby. gotta use your words." he coaxed as he reached over and held your hand his thumb rubbing lazy circles against the back of it.
oh.
he was talking to you.
"i—me? i'm your sweetheart…?" the thought was unimaginable and incomprehensible to your mushy brain. he was pretty, the kind of pretty that you felt deep in your soul and there was no way—absolutely none—that he was yours. he could probably pull anyone he wanted without even trying, but he wanted you? that was ground breaking, earth shattering news to your brain right now.
he was yours.
"that's—nuh uh." you shook your head a little too enthusiastically, reeling as the dizziness set in. bucky held back a barely contained laugh as he let go of your hand and leaned forward, tucking a strand of hair back behind your head. "uh huh. you remember, right? you came to watch the band practice with nat that one time, you kinda followed me around like a puppy afterwards, now we're here."
you blinked at him again for a second, eyes narrowing again as you tried to piece it together. you remembered it in flashes, a crowded room, people laughing, him behind a drum kit and then he was kissing you and—you gasped loudly, eyes widening. "you're the really cool drummer! oh my god, you have no idea how cool you look. and when you do the…" you wiggled your hand around, doing an awful attempt at replicating the drumstick twirl that he did. that was what broke bucky, head falling back as he laughed. it wasn't funny, it shouldn't have been funny, but you looked about as coordinated as a baby giraffe taking it's first steps in the world.
"don't laugh at me!" you huffed as you reached out and poked his arm—missing twice before you hit him with the most feeble poke ever, which only made him laugh even more. "they stole my organs, and you're laughing at me."
"that was real bad, sweetheart. even for you." he shook his head as he leaned forward, resting his chin on the railing of your bed. you looked cuter than you had any right to when you probably couldn't even tell him what day it was. "they didn't steal your organs, baby. they're all still in there, they just took your appendix."
"you promise i have all my organs? did you check? all of them?"
"i checked, sweetheart. double, triple checked. everything is still where it's supposed to be." he said solemnly. "no stealing organs over here, promise."
you hummed quietly as your hand reached out, flicking a strand of hair that was falling in his eyes. "if you ever cut this, i wanna divorce, asap. like, it's gonna be the biggest tragedy of the—of the century! no, the millennium. is that a word?" you yawned, the heaviness of sleep already tugging you back down again. but you didn't wanna sleep, you just wanted to carry on staring at him—just in case you woke up and this had all just been one post surgery, still half drugged up dream.
"yeah, it's a word. kinda think we'd need to be married to get divorced, though. we can work on that one." he moved his head closer so you didn't have to stretch so far. his eyes flickered to the door as it cracked open and your nurse slipped back in. "just need to check her vitals." she smiled as she stopped in front of the monitors at the side of your bed.
"sounds…vitally important." you murmured as your hand fell from his hair, hitting the mattress with a soft thud. bucky chuckled quietly as he sat up properly, leaning over to pull the blanket up properly and tuck you in. "why don't you save being a comedian for after your nap, huh? jokes are still gonna be here when you wake up, baby."
you grumbled something that might have been a complaint under normal circumstances before you let sleep take you, eyes fluttering shut as you drifted off. "you've got a good one there." the nurse smiled as her eyes flickered over to the two of you before she headed back towards the door.
"yeah." he huffed, smiling to himself as he leaned back in the chair. "she's a real good one."
the world came back to you more nicely this time. and by more nicely, you meant that you were aware of where you were and what was happening—also the dull ache in your side. "jesus…" you groaned as you turned your head look at him, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "you come here often?" you teased, your smile turning to a grimace as you tried to sit back up.
"eh, not really. only when my girlfriends insides try and start a revolution against her, y'know? he teased back as he leaned forward and helped you up, rearranging the pillows behind you. it was always funny when he got all mother henny, a rockstar in the making melting because his girlfriend needed her pillows rearranged. "you remember anything from your nap?"
that stopped you in your—albeit limited—tracks, side-eying him heavily. "no…? you can't just leave it there, buck! you gotta tell me. oh, god. no, c'mon. you're not being fair." you protested, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. he did this all the time, and it was never fair. usually it was holding your textbooks out of reach, just because he could, but this? this was different. the thought of knowing you said something embarrassing was somehow worse than actually knowing what you said.
"well…" he drawled, dragging out every letter just to wind you up a little more. "at first, you didn't even know that i was your boyfriend. my ego took a real battering with that one. then you did the worst impression of that thing that i do with my sticks." you groaned at that, letting your head fall back against the pillows. months, that was how long he'd been trying to teach you that trick, and you failed every single time.
"and after that, you made me promise that they didn't steal your organs, that bit was kinda fun. and then—brace yourself—you threatened to divorce me if i ever cut my hair."
oh.
you could feel the blush spreading over your cheeks, up the back of your neck until even the tips of your ears were pink. "thats's—i didn't—i just think that you have really nice hair." you mumbled, taking a very keen interest in the blanket tucked around you than looking at him.
"yeah, i figured that, honestly. c'mon, that wasn't that bad. if they knocked me out, i'd probably say a lot worse." he reached out and lifted your chin so you had no choice but to look at him rather than hiding in your embarrassment. "it's kinda cute." he leaned in, lips ghosting over yours before he kissed you properly. you made a soft noise, fingers curling around the blankets.
for a minute, everything else melted away. the haze, the pain, it all fell away until it was just the two of you left and embarrassment was some far away concept. because no matter what happened or what you said, it always came back to him.
"i'm serious though." you whispered as you pulled back just enough to look at him. "cut your hair and i'm breaking up with you."
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