Sex, Money, Mafia (Mobster Bucky Barnes)

The Story of Barnes and Ashley

TW: mention of murder, traumatic childhood memories, gun violence

Childhood. Most people associate that with happiness, their parents taking them to Disneyland, having ice cream on a hot day, going to the park, playing with your father and mother. Dreams of growing up to be a doctor, a nurse, a firefighter, a police officer. Having a prince or a knight in shining armor to protect you from everything in the world, to lay you in bed at night telling you sweet nothings, praising you for just being alive. A white picket fence, 2.5 children, an American dream. A promise. A promise to love you until the day you die, holding you when the terrors of your past follow you into your future. Playing in your backyard with your friends, going on first dates, nervous giggles with your friends after you first time.

Childhood. It's all fucking bullshit in the world I lived in. Everything you ever love is ripped away to prove a fucking point.

7 years old, the first time I really witnessed and understood the world I was in. It happened in broad daylight, the body guards that were assigned to my mother and I disappearing at the sound of a bomb in the backyard, my mother frantically turning to me. "Go, hide baby." She spoke so softly, her voice barely audible but her words trembling, bone chilling, shivers running up my spine as I opened up the kitchen cupboard, one my father had shown me before, pulling my body into the fetal position, my mother shutting the cabinet quickly. It was less than 5 seconds, before the gun went off, my hands instinctively going to my ears to cover the noise, hearing the thud on the floor outside the cabinet, the smell of gun powder, and blood filling my young nostrils. The gears in my head turning as I tried to stifle the cries, hot tears running down my cheeks.

I don't remember how long I was in the cabinet, all I remember is being hoisted up by my father after he got the news, my arms around his neck as I pulled myself as close to him as possible. "Those fuckers are going to pay, those Barnes fuckers." My father hissed at his guards as he held my trembling body, his hand securely on the back of my head as I sobbed into his shoulder. "Baby daddy's got you, I promise, nothing will ever hurt you." He whispered, and those words echoed in my brain. Could he actually protect me? My mother was just murdered in cold blood in order to prove a point to my father, it could've easily of been me, what if it was me? 2 days later was the funeral, my hand clasped tightly in my fathers, my teddy bear hanging out the other hand, tears running down my cheeks as kind words were spoke of my mother. My father lifting me up to place a rose on her casket, my tears spilling on the oaks as he leaned over with me, the heartbreak in his eye etched into my brain as he looked at me. His little girl, completely and utterly broken. "I love you mommy, I'll make you proud." I whispered before hiding my face back in my fathers neck, letting the tears drop onto his jacket.

12 years old, body guard assigned to me at all times, hiding me anytime a sound went off in the house. A promise to my father that I'll never be harmed. My father walking in one day, sitting me down on the couch. "You know what daddy does is very dangerous right my little sparkle." He spoke while I nodded, my hand clutched in his tightly as he spoke to me, my eyes never leaving his face. "Yes daddy, I know." I replied, while his hand went to the back of my head, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I think it's time we start training you on guns, for protection purposes only." He whispered, pulling me into his lap, hugging me tightly. He had me protected at all times, the loss of my mother unbearable for the both of us. "This gang is yours when I go my little sparkle, you have to be feared." He whispered, his jaw moving on the top of my head as he spoke, resting his chin on my head. "Yes daddy, I know, I'll start practicing." I whispered.

Innocence gone as fast as it came, by 17 I was an expert marksmen, able to kill without looking. I was powerful, feared, adored, enamoring. Everything I needed to be. But most of all lethal, my father sending me out to bring men to their demise under the pretense I was their bitch for the night. Beautifully lethal, everything my father needed me to be.

James Buchanan Barnes Backstory

Troublesome, one word that could sum up James Buchanan Barnes, being the only son to the leader of one of the most powerful gangs in New York City, feared at the age of 15 when he killed his first time. It was gruesome, highly public, his identity a secret, according to the news stations, just a new recruit to the Barnes Mob, little did they know, he was in training to become the leader in just a few years, when his father would be brutally murdered, for stealing from the Irish mob. One that every mob in New York feared.

He too witnessed his mother murdered in his front of his own eyes at the age of 10. Hiding in a closet, peaking out as the gun went off, his mothers body falling to the floor with a loud thud, blood pooling around her. As soon as the men were gone he ran over to his mother, dropping to his knees and sobbing as he laid on her dead body, A repercussion of the Veronica Ashley murder, Brandon had a personal vendetta, knowing that Georges son would have to grow up in a world without his mother, just like his little sparkle of a daughter. George on the other hand, was not a doting father, locking himself in his room to hide the pain of losing his wife, keeping a nanny with James while the poor boy broke into a million pieces. There was no one in the world he loved more than his mother, she was the light in the very dark world of being a mobsters child.

The funeral followed quickly, James' hand clasped tightly in the nanny's, tears down his cheeks. The first time he actually felt comfort from his father. George noticing the tears down his young sons face, his heart shattering more as he realized his son loved his mother as much as George loved her. George excused the nanny, who promptly went and sat in a chair, wiping her tears with a tissue that was handed to her. James looked up at his father as he extended his arms, ushering James towards him. He smiled a little, walking into his fathers arms, locking his hands behind the mans neck as George lifted him, tears falling down both of their cheeks as they finally had the pain of everything hit them. This was war.

Most people would call us insane, staying in a world that held a knife to our throat at all times, one wrong move, one moment in the wrong place could lead to a gun barrel at our head, killing us instantly. But most people don't understand, once you're in, you're never out. Most people chose to join, with the promise of money, thrill, sex, power. But we were different, we had the weight of mobs on our shoulders. A legacy that would never go away, feared no matter where we go. But what we didn't expect, is that we'd end up together, not only for our own personal pleasures, but because we had a war we weren't ready to fight. The west coast mobs starting to calculate how to take over the east coast, our turf threatened.

But that was the job. The life: Sex, Money, Mafia. That's all there was. That's all we knew.