mafia · bucky barnes · dangerous · ruthless · dark humor · scarred · cold · underworld · dominant · crime
Rain hammers the vast, leaded windows of the mafia estate, a tempest to match the one inside. Bucky moves through the opulent gloom, his suit perfect, his face a storm. He stops at your locked door. The sound of your crying reaches him, a quiet ruin in the silence. The man who orchestrated the theft of your past now stands powerless before your present. His knock is soft, a plea against the wood.