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bettercallsabs · 5 years ago

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A/N: yeah, I’m still around, surprise. Lol. I know I said part 11 would be the end of this series, however, when writing book two, I realized, completely the last 7 parts worked far better in this book. So alas, here is part 12! The story is getting darker, and the drama is building up to a shocking twist. Be prepared.

Mob boss Steve Rogers x Reader x Monster Bucky Barnes

Warnings: it’s a mob fic, so...

Series Masterlist// Thee Masterlist

The wind howled fiercely as it tore relentlessly through the the foliage. You watched through a rain distorted window, as the roaring sound of thunder crashed overhead. Yough sighed heavily, turning your back to the large bay window, sinking slowly into the depth of the paisley patterned armchair. You gazed down at your little, swollen belly, your hand circling it in conform. It had been days since you’d heard from Steve. He hadn’t phoned, even when promised you he would. And you couldn’t help but fear the worst…

It was just over 3 months ago that you and Steve had been married, and what a magical night that was, what a magical time it had been- Steve and you had grown closer than you ever thought possible over the last couple of months, up until 4 weeks ago, when Bucky went missing.

Steve passed the length of his study, glasses sitting on low on his nose, face contorted with thought. His hand ran through his disheveled hair in frustration. You softly knocked at the partially open door, watching has his head rose to meet yours. “Might I come in?”

you asked in a hushed tone. He said nothing, only nodded and with a swift gesture of his had he beckoned you into the room. You wasted no time welcoming yourself into the room, waltzing your way towards him as your arms found their way around his waist. Your hands folded over his the center of his chest, the flesh of your cheek resting against the jaggedness of his shoulder blade. His hands fell over yours, the heat of his palm brought a comfort to you, his thumb running the length fingers.

The air lie thick with silence, neither of you speaking for what seemed like an eternity.

You had no idea what troubled him so, you just knew it couldn’t be good. Something in your gut told you it was related to Bucky. And by Steve’s demeanor and erratic behavior you knew it couldn’t have been good.

For a while, Bucky had been doing some “undercover” work for Steve. His opposition was to gather intel on rival gangs- after the fiasco that had landed you in the hospital with a lovely broken bone. They were inherent on finding those responsible, amongst other things. Bucky had gotten in deep, after falling out with Steve, he had become more involved with Steve’s rivals, they began to trust him, thus giving him more information that he could relay onto Steve, until he decided to make an appearance at the wedding…

“Steve?” You kept your voice low, smooth and sweetg, no more than a hum in his ear as you spoke. You moved around him, your face mere inches from his now, as you cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs grazing over is scruffy cheeks. You brought your lips to his, in a soft kiss-expressing the words you couldn’t seem to say. He kissed you back, but it was hesitant at first, as if his mind was elsewhere, as you knew it was- before it became urgent, hungry. His hands crept into your free fallin hair, as he pulled you deeper into the kiss. You kissed him back, savorying every lic k of his tongue, every caress of his hand.

In these trying weeks, Steve had been distant, he rarely slept, or ate, or paid you much attention, and in your sensitive state, you savoured his attention. You wanted nothing more than to be in his presence, you craved it. But a feeling was telling you to give him the space he needed.

“I’m going to brew some coffee, care for a cup?”

Steve’s eyes met yours, the endless pools of blue glistened with vulnerability and aching. Your thumb traced over his cheekbone, following the line of his jaw in a gentle caress, before hovering over his soft lips.

God he was beautiful. Dangerously beautiful, and seeing him this way made your heart sink.

Steve brushed straggling strands of hair from your face, tucking them neatly behind your ear as he cupped your cheek in his hand. You leaned into him, relishing his touch.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Steve lightly kissed your forehead, running his hand over the length of your shoulder, falling to your hand, which his gave a faint squeeze.

“Coffee sounds great. I’ll be out in a moment.”

With a quaint smile, you nodded, giving his hand a kiss before making your way out of the study.

The rich smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the large kitchen. You clutched your mug tightly, your hip resting against the counter as you gazed out of the misty, rain covered window.

The sound of banging at the front doors echoed throughout the house, drawing you back to reality from distant thoughts. Peering out into the foyer, Marcus was nowhere insight. He must be on the other side of the manor, and given your curious nature, you decided to open the door and investigate.

Heaving open the heavy door, a cool mist whipped against your nose. The petrichor smell of the falling rain sent shivers of up your spine. You loved the comforting smell.

Locking out though sheets of rain, leaving ripples in the puddles that collected along the walkway, was barren. You leaned out of the threshold, holding tight as you starched on your tippy toes still nothing. No one is sight. Stepping back in, you stumbled a bit. You looked around, making sure there was nobody around to catch a glimpse of your clumsiness.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a large blue box in your peripheral. You walked out onto the front porch, droplets of rain just grazing your shoulder, as you reached down to pick up the box.

It looked like a flower box, a tad bit heavier than flowers, but it smelled of flowers, sort of, but an overpowering sour stench leached from its edges. You held out the box, stretching your arms as far from you s you could, your stomach becoming unsettled as the awful smell wafted into your nose. You rushed into the kitchen, nearly throwing the box into the table with a loud thud.

“What’s that?”

Steve’s voice startled you, causing your heart to jump in your chest. You hadn’t seen him standing in the kitchen, propped against the counter stirring cream into his coffee.

“I think pregnancy has made you more jumpy. Never thought that was possible...” Steve chuckled lightly, utter music to your ears. It’d been far too long since you’d heard that magical sound. “So what’s with the box?”

Steve asked, pushing himself from his propped position against the counter.

“I’m not sure. I just found it on the front porch. Looks like flowers or something.”

Steve’s brow furrowed as he took a sip of his coffee.

“I wasn’t expecting anything, but might as well open it.”

With the go ahead from Steve you couldn’t deny the slight of excitement to figure out what was in the box, despite the smell.

Nothing could have prepared you for the trepidation that wait beneath the cover.

A blood curdling scream slipped from your lips as you stared in horror. Severed arm with detached fingers had been put on display, draped over a dozen white roses caked in dry crusted blood. Maggots adorned the decomposing flesh, the reaked to high heavens.

Your hands clasped over your mouth as a stream of tears flowed freely from your eyes. You weren’t sure if it was shock, the sight of a severed arm or a combination of the two, but you couldn’t stop the sickening creeping up from your stomach. -at this stage in your pregnancy, you know there was no point in fighting it. Holding back would only bring suffering in the end….

Steve’s hands rubbed at your back, soothing you the best he could. You looked up at him, eyes red and puffy from tears. Without hesitation, his strong hands clutched at your shoulders, pulling you back from the traumatizing site.

“Marcus!” Steve shouted, his booming tone echoing of the walls of the large house.

He pulled you into him, holding your head against his broad chest, comforting-even though his body was stiff and shaky- you as he brushed at your hair sweetly.

The patter of Marcus footsteps grew louder as he grew closer. You could tell by the sound of is encroaching steps that he was sprinting, his footfalls were short and sporadic, very unusual for Marcus.

“You called sir?”

“Take her to our room please, and watch her.”

You head jerked up, eyes searching Steve’s. His icy blue eyes were dark and brooding. His jawline was rigid, teeth clenched.

“Steve-“

“Please, just go with Marcus, I don’t have time to argue right now.”

“Just tell me what’s going on, what is this?” You wanted answers, needed answers. There was a severed arm in a box on your kitchen table, surely Steve didn’t expect you to go on your merry way, no questions asked?

“Now is not the time y/n. Please, just do as you are told!”

Steve snapped. His voice was low and angered as he turned his head away from you.

“Come now Mrs.Rogers.” Marcus voice was soft, as he gently placed his hands on your shoulders, coxing you towards the hall. Reluctantly, you allowed Marcus to lead you away, glancing back over your shoulder at Steve, you could see sadness in his eyes, as his posture slouched, palms resting on the wooden table top.

“God dammit Bucky...”

You strained your ears to hear him, his voice was but a whisper as he spoke.

Your breath caught in your throat as everything became clear. That arm... that arm in the box, it belonged to Bucky...

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