#Mob!steve x reader

[veltana]

No one as sweet as you - Mafia!Stucky/Reader

✦ Pairing: Stucky/Reader ✦ Word count: ~9,4k ✦ Rating: Explicit ✦ Warnings: Mafia AU, best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, protective!stucky, TW: reader is verbally and physically abused by john walker, idiots in love, sharing a bed, poly relationship, piv sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus, praise kink, pet names (Sweets), unprotected sex, creampie. ✦ Summary: When you’re hurt by your boyfriend you go to the two people you can depend on for anything, Steve and Bucky, your best friends. ✦ Note: This is a fic that was previously posted on AO3, at the beginning of the year. But since I'm stuck in writer's block right now I thought I would post this in case you haven't read it. It's one of my favorites. There are some short prequel fics to this also posted on AO3, about when they were living together in college. I'll post those too in the following weeks.

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

The bouncer gives you one glance before he opens the door for you and the line of people you pass shout angrily but you don’t even spare them a glance, your thoughts elsewhere. The music in the club usually invigorates you but tonight it passes through without leaving a trace.

Making your way to Monica at the bar, the people you pass shoot you weird glances and you know you must look a mess. When she sees you she comes right over, the music is too loud to talk so you share a squeeze of the forearm in place of a hug before she pours you your favorite wine, with a pitying smile at your smeared mascara. You throw a kiss at her before making your way to the back and once again the big man at the door opens it for you after a quick look.

The music is muted as you make your way to the stairs at the back that take you up to their private room. When your heels land at the top and you meet Bucky's eyes he lifts the girl currently on his lap off and declares "Everyone out."

Steve shoots him an irritated look before his eyes follow Bucky's and sees you. You stand perfectly still while the women and men who were enjoying a private party with two of the biggest mobsters in New York mill past you down the stairs, some even shoot you dirty looks.

When the last person has passed, you take a step towards them, but before you're two steps in, Bucky has taken the glass from your hand and Steve has lifted you into his arms. You cling to him, hands grasping his shirts, and finally, you know you’re safe.

Steve sits down with you in his lap, cradling your head to lean it against him, the other arm holding you tight at your waist. Bucky's palms are gentle when he rubs your back soothingly. None of them say anything at first but the tears running down your face speak for themselves. You made it all the way without breaking down but with them, you can be vulnerable. For the last seven years, they’ve been the rock, the shelter, and your haven.

"Talk to us, Sweets," Bucky's voice is only that soft with you, maybe sometimes with Steve too, “What’s going on?” You try to take a deep breath, but it just stutters. After a few more tries it’s better but you’re not sure where to begin. They give you time, and don't press you on information, like they otherwise do in their line of work.

Finally, you release Steve's shirt and instead, you find the hand he has wrapped around your waist, twisting the rings on his fingers as you try to speak. You don't want to look at them, the shame and the anxiety is running high in your body but you want to tell them, you just have to find the right words.

"You know the guy I've been seeing," you start and feel Steve's arms tighten around you. Before you can say more Bucky mutters "I'm gonna kill him." Steve is calmer and asks, "What about John, Sweets?" He speaks into your hair, his voice is gentle but it has a hard edge. "He's been so sweet since we started going out, but he's been having a rough time at work lately," you squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to remember, your heart beating like crazy. The memories bring forth the panic and the fear again and your breath gets shallow.

"It's alright Sweets, you're here with us, nothing can hurt you," Bucky's low voice is comforting, together with their touch, and you know he’s telling you the truth. It’s the reason you came here instead of going home.

You take a few more breaths and continue "So I thought I'd do something nice for him. We had a spa day and while he soaked in the tub I made dinner and dressed up for him." Frowning hard, your fingers spin the rings on Steve's hand faster and faster the more your anxiety builds, knowing what’s coming.

"And everything was great until I poured the wine and spilled some on the tablecloth." Your mouth opens and closes a few times and the tears start to fall again but Bucky is there with his thumbs, cradling your face and brushing them away, while Steve rocks you gently in his embrace.

"He was furious," you cry. "Said I ruined everything! He threw the wine in my face, then the bottle across the room. He tried to grab me but I ran out of there." There is a long silence when you finish, it’s just your sobs and the music from the other side of the wall. Then Steve says "I'm gonna fucking kill him," his voice laced with rage, and he hugs you even closer.

"I took a cab here, I didn’t know where else to go, I didn’t wanna go home." With the last words out you feel a small relief. You’ve told them. You’ve told someone. The scene still plays in your head, seeing John's eyes turn black with rage when the drops of rosé landed on the white linen, feeling the fear when he started screaming.

"Thank you for telling us, Sweets. You’re an incredible person," Steve says and moves you out of his lap and over to Bucky's. They treat you with the utmost care, moving slowly, giving you time to protest if you want, or detangle yourself if that's what you desire. But you let them manipulate your body how they like because sometimes they know what you need more than you do.

"You did nothing wrong," he goes on to say, holding onto your hands, letting his thumbs caress the skin. "John is an absolute fucking asshole and no one should be treated like that.” You meet his green-blue eyes that are only soft for you, and Bucky. Right now, Steve isn’t the feared mobster that people avert their eyes from when he enters a room, scared they’re going to end up in a ditch because they looked at him wrong. No, this Steve is your best friend.

"I don't want to be scared, and I don't want to go home in case he comes there," you confess. "You'll stay with us," Bucky decides, voice finite. "Let’s go home so you can take a shower and change clothes." You nod and are about to stand up but Bucky is quicker, changing his grip and holding you close as he gets up. He carries you to the car and doesn't let go of you until you're in their mansion, in the room you have there.

When he puts you down your feet are a little unsteady and they both look at you with concern, but you give them a weak smile “It’s okay.” "We'll be right outside, shout if you need anything," Steve tells you and when you nod they both step out and close the door softly behind them.

For a moment you stand still, trying to make sense of the last hours, wondering how everything went to shit. Then you finally get a good look at yourself in the tall mirror and see the black rivulets of mascara and eyeliner smudged down your cheeks, the foundation almost gone.

The dress is ruined by the wine and even if it was expensive and you can get it dry cleaned you don’t want it anymore. You pull it off and throw it into the trash can, quickly followed by the heels. The lingerie is one of your favorite sets but you're unsure if you will ever be able to enjoy it again without remembering how you chose it especially for John. After a moment it goes into the trash, and the earrings too, feeling like you need everything from the night to be gone.

The only thing you keep on your body is the necklace that was a gift from Bucky and Steve years ago and you haven’t taken it off since. It's custom-made with three delicate chains in gold, silver, and black twisted together. You loved it the moment you saw it, knowing that the chains were the three of you, twisted together through the rest of your lives. When you touch it with your fingers it makes you feel better, because you can feel them with you.

The shower feels more than just bodily cleansing and when you remove the last pieces of your smeared makeup, smoothing eye cream over your puffy eyes, the feeling of fear and panic is distant.

In the closet are a bunch of your clothes, probably more than you like to admit, but the best part is the drawer with their old t-shirts. You pull one out, not sure which of them it used to belong to, but it’s worn and soft against your skin. For a moment you press it against your nose, breathing in the detergent that reminds you of this place and all the wonderful memories that you have with them, before you find your pajama pants.

Out in your room you sit on the bed and look around at the muted colors. Bucky and Steve insisted that the room was yours, not just a guest room, and it makes you smile a little when you think about how much fun you had decorating it.

After taking a deep breath you open the door and find them just a few steps away. The look in Bucky's eyes is murderous and Steve's fists are clenched by his side, but when they turn to you they go back to being your best friends that you met in college all those years ago. "How are you feeling?" Bucky steps up to you and pulls you into a soft hug, tucking your head underneath his chin as you wrap your arms around his waist, breathing in the smell of him. Steve comes up behind you, placing his palms on your shoulders, rubbing the muscles carefully. "Better now," you answer. "But I never had dinner so I'm a bit hungry."

Bucky pulls away from you, cradling your face, tilting it up until you're looking right into his light blue eyes. "Let's go raid the kitchen," he smiles and holds your gaze for a few seconds more and there is so much love in those eyes it's almost scary. You know he would burn down the city if it made you happy, they both would, and that intensity is one of the many things that have kept you from finding out what it would be like to be theirs. You're not sure you'd be able to handle it.

When Bucky lets go of you, Steve's arm goes around your waist and he pulls you into him, Bucky takes your hand, lacing your fingers together, and you walk to the kitchen. You sit down at the kitchen island while they open the fridge.

"The chef made mac'n’cheese," Steve says and pulls out an oven pan, covered in tin foil with a post-it note on top with instructions for heating it. Bucky turns on the oven and says, "Want something to drink Sweets?"

"Soda?" you ask and Steve pulls a can out of the fridge before settling down beside you, handing it to you. You hand it right back "Please? I don't wanna fuck up my nails." That makes him chuckle as he opens it and the sound makes you warm on the inside so you lean your head against his shoulder.

"Thank you," you sigh. "For always being here for me. I'm sorry I ruined your party." "You didn't ruin shit," Bucky spits out, glaring at you from where he is standing by the oven. Steve and you chuckle at his harsh tone but then he leans forward, over the counter towards you, resting his large arms against the surface.

"I mean it, Sweets, don't you ever think you ruin anything by showing up, for any reason," his voice is stern but you know it comes from a place of love. "Thank you, Bucky, it means a lot," you smile.

When the oven is warm Bucky puts the tray in and pulls out plates. It only takes a few minutes and your tummy rumbles as the kitchen fills with the smell of cheese. Bucky and Steve make small talk about work things and you're grateful for them filling the silence while you finally get some food.

But it isn't the nice chicken that you cooked for John that you looked forward to eating and your eyes begin to burn. Even though you try to force the tears back they come anyway and run down your cheeks as you eat. Neither Bucky nor Steve notice until you reach for a paper towel and sniffle loudly. Not a second later you're wrapped up in Steve's embrace, crying into his shirt again while Bucky caresses your hair and nape. They mumble sweet things to you and tell you that you're safe and that nothing is ever going to hurt you again.

After a few minutes, the tears run dry. "I'm okay," you say and Steve loosens his hold, his eyes filled with concern for you. "You sure?" "Yeah, but I feel like I've been hit by a truck. Should probably try to get some sleep.” "We're sleeping in my room," Bucky decides and you nod, Steve too.

It's not unusual for the three of you to share a bed when one of you has had a rough time. The first time it happened was after finals and you all fell asleep in Steve's bed, totally exhausted, and slept better than you'd had in weeks.

Then it was after break-ups, yours, Steve's, Bucky's, somehow you all ended up in a bed together every time and it wasn't sexual at any point, just friends being there for each other and it continued through the years. The only time it was out of the question was when one of you was in a relationship, then it just felt weird, and from previous experience, it wasn't something that partners were all that accepting of.

You retrieve your pillows and cover from your room before settling in Bucky’s huge bed, your feet twisted up with Steve's, and Bucky is holding your hand. It's nice, it's familiar and you drift off knowing you're safe with them.

The room is dark when their soft voices wake you, but that might be because of the black-out curtains and not because it's still night. They’ve moved close enough to you that you can feel the warmth from their bodies on either side of you, and Bucky’s chest is right in front of your eyes when you open them slightly to peek. They don't notice you're awake and you don't feel like announcing it either, curious what they’re talking about.

"We let her decide." Even if Steve's tone is hushed it's still hard. "She is too sweet, you know she would never hurt a fly, she's going to say no," Bucky protests harshly in a whisper. This is interesting, you think.

"Even if you and I are fine with getting blood on our hands, maybe she doesn't want to live with that, maybe she wants to press charges." Steve has always been the more level-headed of the two, good with looking at things from all angles and keeping his cool. Bucky huffs and you want to giggle. His emotions always get him in trouble, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. When Bucky is angry he sees red and when he loves he does it with his whole soul and being. One time you asked Steve how he isn’t dead yet since his poker face seems to suck, but Steve explained that when they’re doing business he is usually calm and collected. When his emotions finally break through, people know they should probably run.

"Fine.” You can tell Bucky is not happy but he lowers his voice even more, and now it’s tinged with something else. “But I'm never letting her go again." His words together with his gentle tone make your heart skip. There was a time when you seriously thought about asking them to see if the three of you could work it out, and be more than just friends. But what you have with them is so precious that if it fails in the end, and you lose your best friends, you're not sure how you're going to go on.

"And you think I will?" Steve mutters. "We should have said something a long time ago." "Well, we can't go back in time. All I know is that I love her and I can't see her with anyone else ever again," Bucky's voice sounds like it's going to crack. He never cries but that is as close as it gets.

Steve reaches over you towards him, you can't see what he does but you know how Steve's comforting hands look on Bucky, you've seen it before. Sometimes they're even sweeter with each other than they are with you, when they think no one can see them, not even you. It's so clear that they love each other deeply, honestly it's surprising that they don't just date each other.

You hear Bucky hum in contentment and Steve gives a small soft laugh. It feels like a good time as any to pretend to wake up. You file away their words for another day, not ready to deal with them now in the wake of what’s happened. First, you need to heal the broken heart you're already nursing before thinking about giving it away again.

With a groan you turn from your side to your back, stretching and blinking your eyes open. They're lying on their sides, both resting their heads on their hands. "What time is it?" you mumble, rubbing your eyes. "Just past nine," Bucky informs you and brushes a few strands of hair out of your face. "And you two are still here?" "Just for you," Steve says softly and finds your hand, twisting your fingers together.

Both of them are early risers and you hate mornings, something they tease you for endlessly. "Honestly though, have you already, like, gone for a run, had breakfast, and then sealed some important deal?" "Nope." Bucky slides his arm in under your neck, placing the other hand on your hip, and pulls you closer to him. "We didn't want to leave in case you woke up." Steve shuffles closer, his chest pressing into your shoulder. "Didn't want you to think we left you all by yourself."

You hum and decide to ask "Would it be okay if I stay here a few days?" "Sweets, stay as long as you want. It's your home as much as ours,” Steve answers. "No,” you correct. “My name is definitely not on any papers for this house." "We can fix that if that's what you want. Just move here." Bucky is serious but you decide to laugh it off. "You'd like that wouldn't you?" "Like old times." he smiles.

"Except I have no desire to listen to the people you bring home scream and moan, got enough of that in college,” tumbles out of your mouth without really thinking of it. They exchange a look but before they can say anything you hastily continue. "Do you think I need to break up with John, or do you think he got the message when I left?"

An uneasy silence falls and Bucky breaks it. "I'm gonna be honest with you Sweets, I really wanna fucking kill him, and make it as painful and as horrifying for him as possible. Death will feel like a blessing in the end." Steve speaks next. "But it's your decision, and if you wanna press charges against him, we'll make our lawyers available."

It’s a lot to take in at that moment. "I don't know,” you answer truthfully. “It still hurts, I'm still scared but I'm not sure what will make it better." "When you've decided you let us know and we'll do whatever you want." Steve bends down to kiss the top of your head.

"If I see him on the street or something though I'm gonna punch him," Bucky says casually before letting go of you and getting out of bed. When his warmth leaves you, you whine and that makes him chuckle. He kneels on the bed and kisses your forehead. "Steve will keep you company while I make breakfast." "You mean go get what the chef has already prepared?" you joke. Bucky shoots you a look before leaving the bedroom.

"We should be glad he isn't actually cooking. Remember when he tried to make pancakes for his girlfriend and almost burned down the apartment," Steve notes. "That's because he got distracted. I mean, I'm glad I came out of my room when I did but the image of Bucky and her on the kitchen table still haunts me," you chuckle.

"You weren't exactly innocent back in those days either," Steve points out with a laugh. "But I never did it on the communal surfaces," you defend with a huff. "No, all we got was listening to you trying to stifle every sound and failing miserably." "Well, at least I didn't break a wall while fucking someone." "It was a shitty wall, never have that problem here." "See that's why I don't wanna move here." "We can soundproof your room?" "Or I can just live in my apartment?"

Bucky comes back with a breakfast tray and places it on the bedside table before pulling out your phone from his pants. "It's been buzzing nonstop since I got down," he explains and hands it to you right as the screen lights up with an incoming call.

"It's John," you tell them, and your chest floods with anxiety as you stare at the screen and sit up against the headboard. "Answer it," Steve sits up beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. Bucky is pressed against you much the same on your other side. "On speaker," he instructs and takes out his own phone to record the call.

Your hands shake as you swipe to answer. "H-hello." Your voice is wavering. "Baby! I'm sorry for yesterday, I'm sorry I got mad. I've been calling since you left, I've been so worried. I checked your place but you weren't home. Where are you?" John says in a worried voice. "I'm at a friend's house," you reply.

The feelings in your chest are conflicted, on one hand you never want to see him again but hearing his voice makes you remember that when he is good he is great, amazing even, and you would be lying if you said you didn't miss him. For the last few months, you gave it your all and you were even prepared to tell him you love him.

"I'll come and pick you up and let me apologize properly," he sounds pained like he is actually sorry for what he did. Fuck, it's so tempting to go back but you know better. You know that this is just the tip of the iceberg, and getting wine thrown in your face is probably not the worst that can happen.

"No, John." You try to sound confident but you're not sure it comes across. "I don't think it's going to work out between us." The moment you say the words the tears well up and Steve starts rubbing your shoulder." You're doing great," he whispers right by your ear so John doesn't hear.

"Are you-" John sounds shocked. "Are you breaking up with me… over the phone?" "Yeah, sorry." You cringe, you shouldn't be sorry. "You scared me yesterday and I feel like I don't know you anymore."

"Babe you don't need to be scared of me, I would never hurt you I swear," he sounds like he is about to cry and a part of you wants to comfort him. "You threw wine in my face and said some really mean things," you point out.

"I didn't mean any of that, I promise. You know I've had a lot on my plate lately and I didn't mean to take it out on you." There is some part of you that desperately wants to believe him. "That's not an excuse," you go on. "I'm not an object for you to take out your frustration on. It's not going to work John."

There is a long silence before he speaks again and now his voice is laced with rage instead. "Then you can come get your fucking things right now." "John, please don't-" you start but he cuts you off.

"You fucking bitch, you lead me on for months and then you break up with me over the phone, because what? You think I’m gonna hit you or something?" "Yeah, maybe," you answer truthfully. "You're such a dumb bitch, I would never lay a hand on a woman I care about."

Both Steve and Bucky stir beside you. When you shoot them a glance they are both staring at the screen with murder in their eyes. "Calling me names won't change my mind, John," it hurts when he says them, like an actual stab in the heart and it brings out more tears.

Bucky leans over and taps the mute button. "There is no way you're going over there, we'll send Sam and Vis." You nod and unmute while John is raging on about how dumb and useless you are and how he wishes he'd never wasted his time on you. "I'm going to send some friends to pick up my things."

"Oh, so you won't even face me yourself?” his voice is unrecognizable now. “You know what? I'm glad for what I did, I'm not sorry anymore, you're obviously a fucking coward and not worth a second of my time." Every ounce of fight is gone from you, you're just tired and want it to be over. You don’t want to listen to the hurtful words anymore so you simply say "Goodbye John," and don't even wait for a response before hanging up. You drop the phone into the sheets and bury your face in your hands, your body jerking with sobs.

Steve and Bucky’s arms go around you but you hardly notice, everything is just excruciating pain, your heart smashed into a million pieces. Twenty-four hours ago you were happy with a man you thought you knew, and loved, but now everything is broken and you're not sure what you’re going to do next.

It takes a long time for you to stop crying and when it finally ends you're exhausted, again. The coffee Bucky brought has gone cold but Steve holds a glass of juice to your lips and makes you take a few sips before coaxing some yogurt into your mouth. "Steve is going to stay with you while I take care of a few things. If you need me, you tell him and I'll be right back," Bucky promises when he leaves the bed again, taking the tray with him out of the bedroom.

"Is he going to kill him?" you ask softly as you sink down under the covers. Steve puts his arm around your waist and pulls you into his chest until your face is squished against it. "No," his voice is soft. "Not without me." "Steve…" "Can you blame us, Sweets? John was lucky it was over the phone or else we would have beaten him into a pulp for saying those things."

"He never acted like that before," you whisper. "I'm just happy you got out before he put his hands on you," Steve whispers back. "If you had shown up with bruises yesterday I might have lost it." "I love you," you tell him and he kisses the top of your head. "I love you too, Sweets, and I know Bucky feels just the same." You hum and let the exhaustion take over.

They have switched when you wake the next time, you're in Bucky's arms and he is carding his fingers through your hair speaking quietly to you. "Wake up Sweets, it's time for dinner."

Even if you’ve slept right through lunch you shake your head and swing your leg over his hip, clinging to him. "Don't wanna get up," you whine. "If you eat dinner, we can watch a movie on the couch afterward." He knows just how to tempt you and you need something to try and take your mind off everything.

"Candy?" you pull back. Even if the light in the room is dim you can still see the blue in his eyes, and the crinkles at the corners when he smiles. "You know we keep stock of everything you like, there is always something sweet for our Sweets."

You hug him hard. "I love you Bucky, you know that right?" "I love you too, Sweets." He kisses the top of your head, much like Steve did earlier. "And I know Steve feels just the same." That makes you giggle "Steve said the same thing." "Well he is a smart man," he shrugs.

Bucky all but pulls you out of bed but he doesn't force you to change out of your pajamas. He leads you to the kitchen where Steve is plating the food and your stomach grumbles when you smell it. They have set the table with candles and it looks lovely but it also reminds you of your last candle-lit dinner. Bucky sees the look on your face turns you away from it and tilts your chin up with his fingertips, "It’s…” he begins, hesitating, trying to find the right words. “We want to replace every bad memory, but if it’s too much too soon we’ll throw it all out.”

The scary thing is that he is serious. If you said the word they would throw everything out, but you don't want that, you want a nice dinner with them and try to get past what happened. Maybe it will help, maybe it won’t but you won’t know until you’ve tried. And if there is one thing you know for sure, it is that you are safe with them.

“It’s fine, I’ll try,” you promise with a smile before turning around to sit down at the table. Steve serves the food and Bucky pours you a glass of wine. After a few bites, Bucky brings up some stupid shit the three of you did a long time ago and through dinner, you reminisce about old times.

Since meeting John you haven't seen them as much because you learned early on that partners were weirded out or even jealous of what you had with them. Right now you can’t fathom why you would ever do that, because these two people are the best thing in your life.

You fold your napkin into your lap and look at them. "I'm sorry for, like, ghosting you the last few months," you swallow hard. "I've been a shitty friend but you always take care of me when I need you, and I’m so thankful for that. I promise I’ll do better."

"It's okay sweets," Steve smiles and reaches over the table to grasp your hand. Bucky takes the other and his thumb caresses your knuckles. "Don't apologize, there is no need." The lump in your throat is from love and not from sadness this time and you don't try to speak, just nod, squeezing their hands back.

Afterward, you cuddle up on the couch to watch a movie but ten minutes in you're already nodding off. When Steve and Bucky notice you're asleep they turn the TV off and Steve carries you up to Bucky's bedroom. "She has work tomorrow," Bucky whispers and pulls the cover up over your body. "Fuck, should we wake her?" Steve asks back. "No, let her sleep, she starts at nine so if we let her sleep til seven it should be fine."

Fortunately, the alarm on your phone goes off as usual but when you turn to snooze it, you instead roll into a warm chest. Steve grumbles and reaches for your phone, handing it to you before seizing you around the waist, and burying his face in your neck.

“Hey, I have to get up,” you mutter. It feels like your eyes are filled with sand and your head is pounding but you have to go to work nonetheless. “You don’t have to work,” he speaks into your skin and it makes a tingling feeling travel through you.

“Don’t be silly, let go of me,” you chuckle and detangle yourself. The other side of the bed is empty, Bucky already up. You drag yourself over to your room to shower before getting ready and eating breakfast. Steve insists on driving you to work and Bucky comes and sees you off with a long hug and a kiss on your hair. “I’ve put Clint and Peter to watch your apartment and Sam and Vis are going to be outside your work all day, Sweets.” “Thank you, Bucky.”

When Steve drops you off he points out the car. "If you see John or you for any other reason feel unsafe you can go to them right away, or call us,” he tucks a strand of hair in behind your ear. “Don’t hesitate. You mean everything to us and we want to keep you safe, Sweets,” You nod. “Thank you, Steve,” you whisper, leaning over the console to kiss his cheek before heading to work.

What you told yourself would only be a few days, turns into a few weeks and now it’s almost two months. Despite your initial refusal, you’re enjoying living with them again. A few times after the break-up, John tried to contact you and every time the phone started buzzing and your anxiety spiked you found one of them and they helped you through it.

You haven’t slept in your room once and neither has Steve, it's always the three of you sleeping in Bucky's bed. It could be because Bucky has an expensive bed that you sleep so soundly, but in the back of your head, you know it’s because their presence calms you.

If Bucky or Steve can't drive you to work, someone else does, your own car is still parked on the street by your apartment and you don’t have any desire to go get it. But you do miss some of your clothes, and toiletries, so maybe you should take it as a sign that you need to go back.

After getting home from work that day you walk up to their office, a little apprehensive. Both of them are leaning over the desk when you poke your head in, their cuffs rolled up, exposing their underarms. It’s enough to make your stomach flip, they look too good. Steve sees you first and a smile splits his face. “Hey Sweets, have a good day at work?”

Bucky turns and opens his arms towards you when you step into the room. His hug is warm and comforting and you answer Steve’s question with a yes, before taking a step back from them. "I know I said I was only going to stay a few days but it's been way more than that now, so I think I'll go back to my place after work tomorrow." You try to sound as neutral as possible, neither sad nor happy, just stating a fact.

"No," Bucky breathes, fists tightening at his sides. "I agree with Bucky, don't leave," Steve's voice is calm and his face doesn’t give much away but his eyes are betraying him, they’re too glossy, too wide, and too filled with fear to miss.

The other reason you need to go back home is the way they are treating you and touching you. It’s making your feelings run wild and you can't have that, you can’t risk losing them too. And if that wasn't enough they've invaded your dreams with their touches and words, making you wake up aching for them in a way that is totally inappropriate.

"I can't stay, you know that," you sigh. "No, I don't." Bucky is frustrated, staring at you. "I really fucking don't know why you can't stay. We love having you here and you seem to love being here. Just stay."

His mood is making you defensive, you don't want to explain that you're obviously catching feelings soon after getting out of something traumatic. You need to think, and every time you wake up drenched, tucked in between them you are seconds away from ruining everything by confessing or honestly just taking one of their hands and pushing it in between your legs, hoping they will help you get off.

"I need my own space, Bucky," you cross your arms and glare at him. "You have your own room," he states and takes a step closer. "That I don't use anyway," you reply and take a step back. "Because you don't want to!" His raised voice silences you not because you're scared but because he's right. Bucky isn’t stupid and he's not the type to sugarcoat things when he's upset.

Your heart is hammering. "No I don't want to," you confess with a breath. "But I need to." Then you turn to go but only get a step from the desk before Steve grabs your wrist. He spins you into his chest, Bucky coming up behind you, boxing you in between them. Bucky's head falls on your shoulder. "I can't let you go again, Sweets, I can't do it."

Your mind flashes back to the morning when you pretended to sleep and heard them talking. The breath in your chest hitches as you look up into Steve's blue-green eyes. “I’m with him, Sweets,” he says in a low voice and cups your cheek with his large hand. “You belong here, with us.”

Your mouth opens and you try to protest but it dies on your tongue and Steve takes the opportunity to continue. "We love you, more than anything, we want you to be ours, more than just our best friend. Live with us, be with us in every sense of the word. All three of us, together," his voice wavers at the end.

The words sink in slowly. Be with them. Be theirs. Stay. Your body is aching to say yes and your heart is about to beat its way out of your chest. “But…” “All I know is that I feel incomplete without you, like a part of my soul is somewhere else, and the only time I'm at peace is when I'm with you two. I can't keep living like a part of me is missing. So I'm asking you, please stay, please help us figure this out and be with us." Bucky’s arms wrap around your waist. "Every time I see you with someone else my heart gets ripped out of my chest and I've tried to be with other people, we both have, but in the end, they’re not you."

Their confessions break down your defenses as their words ring true. In all your relationships over the years, there's always been something missing but you've never been able to figure out what. There's been passion and there's been love but it's always lacking something and now you think you get it. It has lacked them and the deep connection you share through years and years of friendship. Feeling stupid about wanting to leave and thinking you weren’t ready to be with them makes tears well in your eyes. Whatever it is you three can figure it out, it may not be traditional but it beats being unhappy.

"Don't cry, Sweets." Steve runs his thumb over your cheek. You lean your head into his chest, nodding against it. "I'll stay," you sniffle. The arms around your waist tighten and Bucky speaks into your shoulder. "Really Sweets?" he sounds like he’s worried that maybe you're joking.

"Really Bucky," you promise, wrapping your arms around Steve and hugging him close. For a moment it’s just the three of you enveloped in your shared love but then Bucky rights himself and you look up at him over your shoulder, matching his silly smile.

He leans in like he is about to kiss you but he stops himself, his eyes searching yours for something, and it's scary. If you take the plunge everything will change, or maybe it won't, but it feels like an earthquake is rolling through your life, upsetting everything and if you let him kiss you it will be real. But that's what you want.

"Please?" you ask him and his whole face lights up before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours. It could be described as fireworks, an erupting volcano, or maybe feeling the first rays of sunlight on your skin after years in darkness, but nothing will come close to the feeling of being kissed by Bucky.

It's a chaste kiss with just his lips moving carefully against yours. It's over quicker than you want but in his place is Steve, turning your head back towards him and descending on you. His fingers run through your hair and he opens your mouth to let his tongue play with yours, the feeling once again indescribable, it's just the feeling of right. Everything about it feels right.

Even if the kiss is slow when he pulls back your breathing is labored and you're clutching his shirt. "I-" you begin but can’t find any words. That kiss ignited something inside you, it's like you're seeing color for the first time, everything is clearer and sharper. What even was your life before?

"Are doing okay Sweets?" Bucky asks next to your ear and you nod in response. When his soft lips caress the side of your neck you whimper and lean your head to give him better access, he chuckles against your skin, nipping it and making you gasp. "I wanna eat you up, find out what you taste like everywhere."

It’s a badly kept secret that Bucky has a marking kink. You’ve seen his exes, you know he's possessive and likes to leave marks. You can't wait to have them on you so you whisper, "Mark me.”

Steve chuckles above you. "She knows you, Bucky," he says with a smile. "You too, Steve, please?" You’re almost begging, but not quite, just asking nicely. "You want me to give you a hickey?" he asks with a crooked smile but those eyes are too easy to read. He craves you. "Or a bruise, or a bite mark, something, anything," "Fuck…" His face changes to match his dark eyes. "You want everyone to know you belong to us, Sweets?" he asks with a hoarse voice and you feel the large bulge in his pants press against your stomach.

You nod, biting your lip. "Show me how you do it, Bucky.” They spin you around and Bucky grabs at the collar of your blouse, pulling harshly, sending the buttons flying over the office. “Hey-” you begin but he pulls the fabric aside exposing the juncture between your shoulder and neck. First, he sinks his teeth in, hard enough for you to hiss but not breaking the skin, then he closes his lips and sucks.

It's painful but the act in itself makes you throb. When he pulls back you release your breath but Steve is quick to pull the neckline on the other side and do the exact same thing. He is gentler but when he's done there is still a purple bruise on your skin. "Fuck me," you whimper against Bucky.

"Yes, Sweets, we will. Long and hard until you can't take it anymore. We're going to ruin you." Steve promises before he grabs you and lifts you up, spinning you so you can wrap your legs around him as he starts walking to the bedroom, Bucky right behind you. You reach your hand out towards him and he grabs it, kissing your palm and knuckles. "We're going to take care of you Sweets, you'll never want for anything," he promises with a wicked smirk.

Steve places you on the edge of the bed and stands up, looking down at you. Bucky comes up beside him, resting his forearm on Steve's shoulder. "Look at our sweets, can you believe it?" Bucky asks. Steve turns to him with a smile. "Yes." Then he places two fingers under Bucky's chin, turning his head before kissing him. It's heated, filthy and it's the hottest thing you've ever seen. You squeeze your legs together to alleviate some of the pressure you're feeling in your cunt. Their kiss shows that it's nothing new, they've obviously done it before and you're a little mad that they have withheld this from you.

When Steve starts pulling on Bucky's clothes you can't keep the moan from slipping out. They both break away and turn to you and you feel small in the best way possible. "Did you like that?" Bucky asks before leaning down and kissing you.

The knowledge that his tongue was just in Steve's mouth and is now sliding against yours makes you moan again. You start undoing the buttons on his shirt and he pulls on your top. When you separate, he pulls it off and you’re left in just your bralette. Steve makes a sound in the back of his throat at the sight and starts taking off his own clothes.

Bucky kneels in front of you on the floor, unbuttoning your pants and pulling them off, while you stare at Steve as more and more skin is revealed. He holds your gaze the whole time and you bite your lip when he starts at his pants. His chest and forearms are huge, covered in tattoos but in no way hiding the muscle underneath. It makes your mouth water and your cunt clench.

Bucky starts kissing up your bare leg, beginning at your ankles and slowly working his way up your calve and the inside of your thigh. When you're still staring at Steve he nips your skin. "I know he's gorgeous but when I eat your pussy I want your eyes on me, Sweets." He tries to look offended but his pupils are blown wide with lust.

Just the thought of him between your legs makes a shiver run through you and your cunt impossibly wetter. Nodding at him you caress the side of his face and watch him, the closer he gets, the more you start to tremble with need. No one had ever made you feel so needy and horny.

Bucky kisses your cunt through your underwear, making you gasp. "Please Bucky, I need you." "I know, I can smell how fucking wet you are Sweets." He twists your panties out of the way. "Fuck, Steve, look at her, she's dripping."

Steve, in just his underwear now, slides his fingers gently through the mess, making you tremble and moan, before bringing the fingers to his mouth and holding your gaze as he licks them clean. Then Bucky's mouth is on you, his tongue licking from your core up to your clit.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck-" you cry and grab the sheets under you, bucking up into his touch. Steve chuckles and gets behind you on the bed. "He looks like he's in heaven, Sweets. He has wanted you for so long." You feel his fingers undo the clasp of your bra and then slide it off. His hands cup your tits a second later, making more sounds spill out of your mouth. His fingers rub, caress, and pull on your nipples while Bucky is hurdling you toward your climax.

"I'm- I'm gonna-" Your legs shake and you grab Steve's arm with one hand, the other going to Bucky's head, grabbing his short hair. Every muscle in your body tenses right before the coil snaps, making you scream out your release, riding Bucky's face and feeling the pleasure-filled waves travel through your body.

You slump against Steve's and he holds you. Bucky pulls back with a shit-eating grin, wiping his face with the back of his hand, saying "Fuck Sweets," before he stands up and starts taking off his clothes.

You already feel amazing, high off your orgasm but you want more and Steve's hard-on is pressing into your back. You turn around on the bed. "Move up," you tell him and his smirk is knowing but he does as you say and moves to sit against the headboard.

You rid yourself of your drenched panties before grabbing his boxers and pulling them off. "Eager Sweets?" he chuckles and fists his cock as soon as it's free. It's thick and long as him and you can't fucking wait. You bite your lip before asking "Condom?"

"I know we should but I want to feel you raw Sweets,” he confesses. “Are you on birth control?" "Sure, and I got tested the week after…" you trail off not wanting the bad memories to ruin the moment. Bucky's heat is suddenly behind you, grabbing your hair and forcing your head back to kiss you deeply. When he lets go he says, "Steve and I got tested like a week before you moved in and I've not even looked another person's way since then." Steve laughs "And I haven't fucked anyone either so get over here and ride my cock Sweets."

To say you scramble is an accurate description, quickly shuffling over to him and straddling his hips. You hold onto his shoulders as he swipes the head of his cock through your mess, holding it still for you to sink down on.

All three of you moan in unison as his dick disappears into your tight hot channel. The grip Steve has on your hips is almost bruising and the look on his face is painful. “F-fuck. Sweets. Damn.” Is all he gets out. You lean in, kissing his cheeks and chin and lips, and start to move, slowly, the feeling is amazing, he's filling you up to the brim perfectly.

"Feels so good," you stutter and then drop down hard. "I'm never watching porn again," Bucky says from behind you and you watch him over your shoulder, kneeling on the bed and jerking his cock. You whine in the back of your throat, you want him too, so you reach for him as you bounce on Steve's cock, making him spill the most delicious sounds.

Bucky shuffles over and you grab his dick in your hand, he's big enough that it doesn't fit all the way around. His hand lands on Steve's shoulder to steady himself and Steve reaches out to place a hand on his hip.

The sounds the three of you make fill the room. It's moans, groans, and whimpers, the sound of slapping skin and squelching wetness. Your clit is steadily rubbing against Steve, getting you closer and closer. Bucky is panting heavily, Steve is too.

"Sweets, I can feel you. Are you gonna come on my cock?" Steve is trying to sound unaffected and failing miserably, but he continues to spill filth that rushes you toward the edge. "When I've filled you up, Bucky is gonna fuck my cum right back into you, aren't you Buck?" "Fuck yes," he groans before leaning in and kissing you deeply. “I wanna see you come on his cock Sweets.”

"Next time I wanna feel both of you come in me at the same time," you whimper. "Sweets, you goddamn slut." Steve groans with a laugh and bucks up into you harder. "Tell us more! Please! I want to hear every filthy little thought hidden inside that mind."

You turn to look at Bucky. "I want both of you in every hole. I want you to use me like I'm a toy and worship me like a queen," you tell him, then turn to Steve. "Put my name on the house and celebrate it by fucking in every room, on every surface, show me all of your kinks, give me everything."

Steve's eyes are screwed shut and he's let go of Bucky to grab your hips, pulling you down onto his big cock. "Keep going," you urge him, your release just a few thrusts away. But he's too close and before you can get there he suddenly sits up to wrap his arms around your waist, crushing you against his chest, thrusting up hard, and comes with a loud moan of your name.

You feel wild, right on the edge of ecstasy but left dangling in mid-air. With pleading eyes and a whine you look at Bucky who smirks at you before pulling you away from Steve and laying you on your back. A second later he fills you up, the sound of his cock pushing through Steve's mess is as sweet as it's nasty.

"Please, Bucky, please," you beg. "Yeah I know, don't worry, not gonna blow my load early," he taunts over his shoulder at Steve who just gives him the finger. "Understand him though, you’re so tight and warm Sweets. Makes me a bit crazy. I just want to fill you up over and over again," he confesses.

"I need to-" you begin but he cuts you off. "Rub your clit for me. Come on my cock," he demands but you know something that is even better than your own fingers and you reach out your arm.

"Steve," you plead and he crawls over to you and lays down beside you, pushing his hand in between your bodies, finding your clit. You arch off the bed with his touch, hands clutching Bucky's arms as he rams into you. The dual sensation is amazing and with how close you were seconds ago the end approaches quickly. Your moans get louder the closer you get and both Bucky and Steve praise you the whole way through.

"You sound so fucking pretty."

"I can barely move you gripping me so tight."

"You're so good at taking cock, Sweets. First mine and now Bucky's, it's like you were made for us."

You nod at the last thing and the pressure in your body is breaking, making your muscles convulse, almost pushing Bucky out with how hard you're coming, screaming their names as you do.

"Fuck! Yes, Sweets!" Bucky’s laugh is a little manic as he works you through it. "I'm going to fill our sweet little cunt with more cum." His hips stutter against you before he groans out your name and collapses on top of you. You run your fingers over his sweaty back and kiss his cheek. Then you turn to Steve, smiling at him beside you. "He's heavy," you complain.

Both of them laugh and Bucky rolls off before they move until you're squeezed in between them, their cum running down your legs, making a mess on the bed. Fortunately, you have at least two other beds to sleep in.

For a few months, you're walking on air. In a throuple with your two best friends, amazing sex, luxury beyond what you could have ever imagined. They constantly spoil you and they've tried to convince you to quit your job since you don't need to work when you're with them.

Tonight you're in another fancy restaurant. Bucky is trying to feed you chocolate cake because it's romantic but you tell him over and over again that you can eat by yourself. Suddenly Steve stiffens beside you and since he isn't known to have tells, you immediately get worried and follow his gaze.

John is standing at the door with a pretty girl on his arm, talking to the waiter and then being shown to a table. Next to yours.

When your eyes meet he stops for a second and his date shoots confused looks between the two of you, before you nod and he nods back, then moves again and sits down.

Steve asks for the check and you're out of your seat and outside the restaurant in no time. Bucky holds your coat as you put it on and a moment later Steve comes out too. His eyes are black with hate and when you're finally in the car you realize that you can't live like this.

"I think-" you begin, swallowing then clearing your throat, "I think I'm going to need those lawyers."

[neonovember]

Deceit

Mafia!au x Steve Rogers

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

summary: your escape to Brooklyn was harboured by secrets and a harrowed past, left abused and betrayed, you accepted your destiny of being swallowed by the crowd. Until the King of New York showed up in front of you and wanted a piece of you for himself.

divider by @firefly-graphics​ !

Taglist 🏷️ (send an ask to be part of my taglist for this series!)

@tinkerbelle67 @patzammit @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory@nomadstucky @nessie2183 @shamelessfangirl-3 @namelesssav @marvel-phoenix @euphoric-goddess @roseeatta @abschaffer2 @louderfortheback @stupendouslovegardener @wandamaximoff-simp @thedonswife13 @hpsimpspot @samsgirl93​ @cynic-spirit

Bucky is quiet the ride over, dark steel greys surveying the road eagerly, like he was waiting for someone, or something to give him a reason to jump out and spill blood. 

The wheel wains in his grip, and his dark hair falls over in waves, pushed back behind his ears and smelling of pine nut and mint. There's a hint of a smile on his face, he knows you're watching him.

You avert your gaze quickly, looking towards the mountain trees on either side of the asphalt road ahead.

The relief you had thought would fill you as Bucky pulls into the potholed road of your apartment is blank, and your chest fills vacant without the heat of it. Your mind is restless, and the entire ride over had given you ample time to think over everything that had happened earlier. 

You had folded and unfolded every piece of information Bucky had told you about Steve and all it had done was make you feel like you were intruding, like you were given privy to something you had no right knowing. Like peeking through the cracks under closed doors as a child listening in on their parents.

Where your street had once been busy with loitering huddles of gaunt faced men, a quiet murmur settles over the ground floor of your apartment complex, all the way up to the hallway to your place. 

And as you pass by a few stragglers who blanch when Bucky shifts his hard gaze towards them, stuttering over their own feet and rushing back to their alleyways, you have an inclination that it was all Steves doing.

His reach was absolute.

You didn’t know what to feel, you’ve known displacement for too long. 

Separating from your betrothed, separated from the life you had been half folded into, separating from the very syllabus of your name. 

The spaces between the letters get further and further as the years go by. Until you can hardly remember if your namesake is really yours, just a frightening sound that came out of your husband's mouth.

This is different though. Until now, your instinct has always been right. And yet, when you think of Steve? When you try to find footing in your gut it comes up wobbly and unsure.

Was he something more than he let on? Did he only uncover pieces of himself for his own benefit? 

Bucky had told you he had lost his own wife, and young too. Forced to be exposed to the brutality of the world before he could even get a chance to indulge in youthful recklessness. 

You feel a sense of empathy for him, but also, also surprise. It isn’t the murder, or your own husbands doing that causes a slight slip of your heart. The truth is much more foolish instead.

There was a time Steve was ready to forsake this entire life, live forever looking over his shoulder, turn back on tradition that was as deep as marrow, all for love.

You could laugh if you had remembered what that felt like. The thought outright unnerves you. Steve? The gluttonous leader who held sanctions of New York with an iron fist? 

It drives a pit in your stomach when you think too hard about what it means. 

There’s a fiery jealousy that swarms you, you had never understood the wielding power that love carried all your life. It was a feeling, just like any other was it not? 

Yet it had men like Steve falling to his knees!

And all that swarms your mind is how it’s so unfair, that you’ve never experienced such a thing. That you may never will. Forced to succumb to the life that was only half yours, down a path so far the ground had changed beneath you.

What did it feel like to give in? To show all your misgivings with unabashed apprehension? To let yourself, all of it, to another person?

Anything close to a love like that had come from the faded memories of your father, his warmth and deep gritted protectiveness over you. And that had been stripped from you quicker that you were able to forsake it.

You suppose that wasn't meant to be dealt in your cards, which you had come to understand were drawn years ago. You lie to yourself, but during some nights the aching desire to feel something, to taste the deep gripping love that had caused even Steve to lose focus explodes deep in your gut. 

Your longing for connection was something you hid well, and god didn’t you get awfully good at hiding these years? Fit yourself in nooks and crannies that were too small, smoothed out your jagged edges to click into the puzzle pieces.

And yet, the empathy you had silently shared, the intimate conversation you had had with Steve in your mind is stamped out with swiftness as Bucky walks you to your door.

That was then, now Steve had made it perfectly clear where he stood. The cool indifference and hardening this life caused had stolen any shine or hope that Steve may have held those years ago. Everything he did now was calculated, for the betterment of broadening his kingdom. 

He might as well have died along with her.

Bucky leans against the hallway, eyes surveying the decrepit halls lit by overexerted linoleum lights. You hesitate a moment, before popping your keys into your door, twisting it this way and that to get it to open.

You flinched as the door opened wide, almost like you were expecting someone to be standing right behind it, waiting for your arrival before pouncing. You’re a child, waiting for the ghoul in the closet to jump out.

Yet all that is there is the same peeling walls of your small entryway and some shoes and a coat strewn to the side in your haste to get to the diner early those days before. 

You’d much prefer the monster.

Days, it had only been days, so why did it feel like a lifetime since you stepped foot into your home? 

You don’t know what you were expecting, for your apartment to change when you had been kept away from it unceremoniously? For someone to have cleaned out the dishes lying in the sink, and ruffle the pillows lying on your old sofa? 

You had craved mundanity for so long, craved consistently at a time where you didn’t know which face of your husband you would meet those days. 

When the monster living underneath your husband's skin would jump out.

But now, you crave something more. It simmers right under your skin, deep within your chest and its shadowy fingers flutter over every inch of you.

Your apprehension is evident by the way Bucky shifts his way towards you stuttering frame.

“Hey, I wouldn't be so keen on coming home to this place either. Those carpets don’t look that inviting" Bucky replies, there is a sight lilt in his voice as he drags his eyes across your depressing furnishing.

You cut your eyes towards him, narrowing your lids.

“Not everyone lives in an exorbitant palace you know” You gruffly reply, shuffling into your door in a way that was more spite than eagerness.

Bucky breaks out in a grin that takes up half his face, his hand stuffed into his suit pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

“Talking like a woman who hasn’t done just that half her life” Bucky replies, cocking his head to the side.

Oh right, your husband's estate that took up half of the city. One that was never, and would never be in your name.

You drop your handbag onto one of the hooks attached to the hallway, turning towards Bucky with a sigh.

“That’s different” You reply evenly

“Oh yeah? How so?” Bucky murmurs, eyes shining with a smile

“I was never welcomed in that home- house. God it would never be a home no matter how many architects and designers dressed it up. You think I escaped ‘cause it was my safe haven?” You cock your head to the side and Bucky’s face evens out. The smile adorning his features morphs back into his face as a look passes through his eyes.

“You don’t have to worry about that with Steve-”

“Oh yeah? Because he is the most upfront person to talk to. Right. This place, as depressing as it looks, is solely mine. It’s the only thing I have on this goddamn earth that hasn't been mauled and changed with my husband's fingers. Or the life he leads. You might not understand it, how important that is but-”

“I do. Trust me” Bucky replies, cutting you with and he offers you a nod that was more understanding than half the world's he promised to you.

Can I? You wonder thoughtfully. Was this just a part of some elaborate plan that Rumlow had clued you on? You were everywhere all at once, topsy turvy and turned inside out. This was the life you had to live now.

“Good” You say instead, wringing your fingers as Bucky’s phone begins to buzz from his pants pocket.

You wait for him to reach for it immediately, but he doesn't, just remains quiet as he taps his foot against the hardwood floor. There seemed to be a look of understanding that passed between you when he had racked his fist against the wall adjacent to your door. 

The blues of his eyes twinkled under the sun peeking through the hallway window, and you didn’t realize it then but it was trust that shined in his eyes. Like the words he had shared with you warranted the same secrecy he held with the other men he worked with. 

You had paid in flesh and blood for your silence, what more was another pound?

The ring runs through, and the silence soon returns between you both.

“I’m not going to the mouth off to half of Brooklyn that their most influential business man likes painting” You reply with a murmur, eyes darting left and right as if neighbors were listening in. Enough of them had watched you walk to your apartment door, eyes strained on Bucky and his shoes that shine too bright. Faces that had never even said hello had craned their necks as you passed, of course. Whispers of inquisition under their breath.

“I know you won’t” Bucky replies instantly. “Just- let him explain the rest of it, yeah? ‘S only fair you hear it from him” 

“Fair?” You raise your eyebrows, “You’re talking about fairness now? Bullshit. If you were guided by some moral compass I wouldn't have been forced into this, you wouldn't even be in this life” You snark unconsciously.

Where does this all come from? You hadn't even raised an eyebrow at your husband, and now you were bad mouthing a man with a gun poking through his waistband. You look down, staring at the unusual stain in the hallway carpet you never quite knew what was. The anxiety and timidness you were used to coming back tenfold.

Bucky doesn't retaliate, just looks towards you with a feather-like smirk.

“I was wrong about you, y’know?” Bucky whispers, leaning in as if he were divulging in a secret he couldn't let be spoken in the open air.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re everything like Steve.” Bucky replies thoughtfully, a far away look taking over his dark features. 

He’s miles away, reminiscing about parts of Steve that had been left in the dark. He looks younger than, when you notice the way his eyebrows scrunch and his locks fall flat over his face. 

But it's enveloped back into Bucky in a second, a sad smile replacing his grin.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call” 

Giving you one last nod, he turns back towards the hallway entrance and it takes you a few moments before you realise.

“But I don't have your number!” You call out, leaning out your door

His brown locks shift as he turns back to you

“You sure about that?” A raise of his eyebrows at the ping of your phone, waving you with two fingers.

You don't have to pull it out to know it's him. And you can't help but let out a chuckle before turning back and shutting the door firmly.

You find yourself accompanying your time scrubbing down the floorboard and yellowed walls of your home, filling your hours since Bucky had left with meager tasks. It helps you think, concentrating on little chores around the house so you don't have to think about the thoughts that rattled loudly in your mind.

It’s still well into the morning, and as the sun filters through your drapes you lean back on your heels nodding accomplished at the glint of the shining floors. The walls were an impassive yellow, never yielding no matter what cleaning products you threw at them, but beyond the old entryway carpet the apartment was lined with pristine hardwood floors that shined with a little elbow grease.

Not that shitty huh Bucky?

Wiping the sweat that had grown increasingly uncomfortable above your brow, you make way to your small enclosed kitchenette, swiping a cup from the drying rack before you watch the water fill to its glass edge. You gulp half of it down, before your much needed break is interrupted by the faint buzzing of your phone emitted from somewhere in the living room.

You forage for it quickly, searching till you find it wedged between the cracks of your couch. You pause for a moment, considering whether it might be Bucky, or Steve calling but as you see the vibrating screen of your manager's face you slide the receiver across the screen.

You brace yourself for the inevitable screech of her voice, you haven't been to work in days, an irregular for you considering the mountain of bills that left your bank account squandered each month. You needed this job, and now Steve hand upended your life, you fear it’ll slip through your fingers.

Manager calls, you pick up, she’s very quiet and apprehensive and is all sweet in a a way you remember she never had been before. She’s almost scared to talk to you, asking about a shift you could cover and you say yea without thinking. You need a distraction. Even if Steve had made it clear you no longer needed to worry about work.

“Hello?” You reply, eyebrows furrowing at the beat of silence that fills the space usually used up by ** loud un yielding demands.

“Y/N? Hey, how are you doing” Replies carefully, as if choosing her words.

“What?” You blurt out

You can’t help the confusion that puzzles your voice, who was this person? In the months you had spent working at that dead end job not once has she ever asked how you were. Not when you had spent half your break with your head in your toilet the first few months you had escaped. A cat on edge, nerves frazzled by even the slightest heavy stamp of a dress shoe.

What had changed?

You don’t have to kid yourself, you know the answer deep down. Him, it always goddamn is.

“Sorry, uhm I’m been doing good” You reply “I apologise for kind of just disappearing on you and the Diner”

“Oh that? That’s totally fine, once your friends cleared that up” 8 gulped, the sharp exhale of breath filling the receiver at the mention of this friend of yours.

“Friend?” You reply

“Don’t worry about it, I’m glad your doing alright. Uh-, so uhm ’s sister dropped her kids off at 4am last night at hers, she cant her shift. And * got SAT prep. Can you fill in if possible it’s totally okay if you can’t, I needed to stay back a few anyway-”

“Sure” 

You needed the distraction, you felt stifled in the walls of your apartment. It wasn’t meant to be a prison, and yet the only time you felt truly free now was when you slammed the door behind you.

“-oh, Oh thank you! Thank you so much. If you could come in at 12, it’s just the afternoon shift. And if you need to leave for whatever reason it’s totally fine you don’t even have to tell me-“

“Mare?

“Yes?”

“Relax. I miss the diner and it’s crappy linoleum lights anyways”

Mare snorts into the receiver “The teams missing you too”

After passing a few more instructions on the wave of Russian tourists coming through Brooklyn this time of year you let your phone clatter onto the coffee table.

Sure, your manager could be a pain in the ass but being passive aggressive didn’t warrant a mob leader holding you at gunpoint.

You wonder what Steve had said to her to cause her to be this shaken up, she was the most stubborn woman you’ve ever met. It couldn’t have been easy to have her yield, at least not without some sort of real threat.

Especially in New York.

You rifle through your bag before grabbing your work uniform. The musty smell of old oil and grease makes you throw it haphazardly into the laundry basket before reaching for a clean shirt.

You try to look presentable, washing your face with the bathroom tap that never not juts out cold water. You avoid your reflection when you pay your face dry, which is interestingly enough, hard to do since it’s well..your face.

Drawing the wisps of coils that spring free you pull your hair back into a bun. You don’t bother with makeup, it never quite sat right on your face when you did it. Reaching for your bag and throwing your phone and the rest of your miscellaneous, you hurry down the steps of your apartment complex. 

Popping in your earphones as you step into the train carriage, you memorise the dock and pull of the train ride till you feel your stop. Your music swims through your veins, and you breathe it in before opening your eyes to the tram doors opening.

[soft-and-bitter]

Failed Bargaining (Drabble)

Mob Boss!Steve x Introvert!Reader

Steve would go to any length in order to have you, and that worried you. A lot.

Warning(s): swearing

If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or leaving some feedback, thanks! ❤

Steve made you nervous the very first time you set eyes on him. Because as soon as you did, you knew just how far apart your worlds were. Every fibre of his being exuded unbridled wealth and glamour, but there was more to it too, simmering beneath it all: shades of darkness you didn't think you wanted to delve into.

Apparently Steve shared none of your sentiments.

You stared at the necklace dangling before you, brows knitted. "Um, what's this?" you ask, even though you knew perfectly well what it was. While awaiting the next course, the others present at your surprise birthday dinner had, fortunately, fallen into their own worlds, deep in conversation about anything other than what was going on now between the two of you.

"A birthday present, of course," he responded, his smile never faltering. "Just one of many for my sweet girl."

It was a simple design—nothing ostentatious, thank god, but you were highly skeptical of its cost, not to mention its provenance. You may not have known Steve that long, but observation, coupled with Sharon's anecdotes, taught you that Steve never did anything in half-measures.

"You didn't have to," you tried to protest, but he was already sweeping your hair over one shoulder to gain access to your nape.

Steve chuckled softly, wrapping the delicate necklace around your neck. "But I wanted to, sweetheart. And that's what matters."

The pet names worried you just as much as the gift. Everything was moving way too fast, this . . . thing, whatever it was, between the two of you. Steve had materialized into your life out of the blue, and now suddenly it felt like he was everywhere, in every corner you inhabited, like he'd always been there. Never mind that you still had no idea what he did for a living.

His birthday gift, cold and heavy against your skin, only drove the message home. If you thought you were doing things casually, Steve wasn't having it.

Fuck.

Steve played with the gold chain of your necklace before dropping a kiss tenderly on your shoulder. "It's beautiful on you," he remarked, fingers ghosting along your collarbone. "You're never going to take this off. Promise?"

You blinked at him once, twice. His command took you aback, the gravity in his tone so different from anything you experienced. Steve watched you expectantly, his blue eyes bright.

"Steve, listen," you began, one hand covering his own as you tried to stop his fingers from exploring further. "This is all amazing, it is, but, um . . . don't you think we might be moving a bit too fast here?"

You feared he'd take offence to that, but his smile said otherwise.

"Sweetheart, we're not moving fast enough."

Just something quick and short to get me back in the swing of things. I do consider this part of a bigger story I've been cooking up, so let me know what you think! Do y'all want more?

[sluttylittlewaistenthusiast]

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all the fanfics i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

ᡣ𐭩 how you can help palestine . fic recs m.list

@mellowsaturns

⭒ No Place Like Home

a sweet moment with steve when you come home tired and sleepy

⭒ Make A Wish

it's steve's birthday so you give him a present or two… maybe three.

@sunvmars

⭒ Only You

only a few weeks after a breakup, you go out for the night with the team. steve doesn’t show up, and he’s been purposefully not showing up to anything non-work related after the breakup. however, tonight you drink a little too much, and insist that steve pick you up.

@espinosaurusrexex

⭒ Watchful Eyes

When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself.

@moonvis

⭒ Always Been You

Being in love with Steve Rogers isn’t easy with all the dates Natasha sets him up with. One day you’ve had enough and ask her to set you up, something you’ve never let her before – and a certain blonde isn’t too pleased.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nero Rose || Mob!Steve Rogers

Character: Mob!Steve Rogers x Detective!Reader

Warning: None

Words Count: 1,539

Summary: She has bad blood towards the famous gangster leader called Steve Rogers. With his influences, he sent her to the outskirts city. Then one day, you received a called that said Steve Rogers wanted to talk to you. When you come back and meet him again, something terrible happens. 

This is the story of the enemy-to-lovers.

A/N: Reblog and any feedback are much appreciated. I love reading all your comments. 💖😘

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi please 🥹

A crowded street, sounds of car horns, smell of piss. All the little things made you miss New York.

It's been 8 months since you left the city. It wasn't your choice to be exact. You left because the head of the police demoted you from detective to traffic police. 

You want to protest but it's impossible since your opponent is the powerful mob in the city. 

Steve Rogers is the king of the mafia. His power in business, politics and network in the underworld made him unbeatable. No one can bring him down. 

Until you did. 

You found the drugs and weapons that connected to Rogers. You got him good. And the media and citizens also support you. 

But you have no support when it comes to law and politics. The almighty Steve Rogers has given money to the judge and governor that could give them a third family. He also paid the best lawyer. 

In the end, he only spent 3 nights in jail and went home. While you got sent to the outskirts city. You hate your boss and everyone. It took a while for you to accept the new life you have.

When you started to let it go, you suddenly got a call from the chief of police. 

-Flashback Start-

He said, "Steve Rogers got stabbed."

You don't understand what's the point he told you this "Cheers for me. You want me to attend his funeral? I will wear white."

"He's still alive."

You scoffed "Too bad."

"He's a victim but he doesn't want to talk. He said that he only wants to talk to you."

-Flashback End-

That's why you return to New York. You want to see the look on his face, being pale and weak after getting hurt.

But before that, you're going to buy flowers. A gift for sick patients. You picked a perfect one for him. At the flower shop, you pointed at one flower. "I want that one."

The shop employee is an elderly woman. Her name is Sienna. You've known her since you were a kid. She's a joyful and funny grandma. 

Sienna raised her eyebrows and looked at the flower you chose. She picked the flowers one by one. "That's an odd choice to visit a sick person. It means 'You're dead to me.'"

You smirked "Is that what it means? Even better." 

You gave her the money after you received the flower bucket. "You're the best Sienna. I'll see you tomorrow."

She gave a warm smile "Bye, Y/N ."

You arrived at the hospital and immediately saw one of his trusted right hands. Bucky Barnes. He's standing outside while smoking. 

He put out his cigarette when he saw you "Detective Y/N."

You rolled your eyes "Fuck off. Where is he?"

Bucky scoffed and brought you to the VIP room. Before he opened the door, you could hear people talking, and laughing from inside the room. 

When the door got open, and you walked inside, everyone turned silent and looked at you. All of them are wearing black suits. 

8 months without seeing any mafia made you forget that you just entered enemy territory.

You gathered any courage that you had and walked towards the patient. You expect Steve to be pale, weak, and lying motionless on his bed since he got stabbed.

But your expectations betrayed you. In front of you, Steve Rogers is sitting like a boss with a half robe opened that shows his torsos tattoos. His hair even got combed to the back. He doesn't look sick.

"Aww, you bring me a gift. Thank you detective Y/N."

There it is. He always finds a way to make you angry. He knew you're not a detective anymore. You hate to admit it, even though he's a jerk, gangster, and narcissist. His face and his body are your type. 

Many fish in the sea but why do you have to like a man like him?

You clicked your tongue and then gave the flower to him "I ordered this for your funeral to be honest."

"Thank you doll." He handed the flower to his subordinate. "Did you buy this from the Sienna flower shop?"

"How did you know?"

"From the wrapping paper, the ribbon. I'm her loyal customer." He winked at you.

Well, that's something you learned from him. Perhaps he bought flowers for his girlfriend. 

You cleared your throat then grabbed a note and pencil from the pocket of your leather jacket.

"So what kind of person would dare to stab the gangster leader? That culprit must be crazy or a serial killer."

Suddenly the room turned quiet. Everyone is looking at you, including Steve. 

"You're right. Not even my rival dared to pick a fight with me. I could feel it. It's not them."

You crossed your arms "Why did you ask me to come here?"

"Since you left the city is not safe anymore. See? I got hurt. And, perhaps I missed the time we spent together."

You gritted your teeth. Geez, his words could make anyone misunderstood. The moment you spend with him is at the court or police station. 

The police station became an event. Paparazzi is always there, the media, he even invites a private chef to bring his lunch and dinner.

When you interrogate him, he always has wine beside him. It's impossible to make him stop since he got the best lawyer Matt Murdock. The famous lawyer who defends crooked people and always wins. 

You should've known that you have lost. 

"Enough with the jokes. What do you want?"

"I'm offering you a chance to come back. I want you to investigate my case."

"Why?"

Steve tilted his head a bit  "Because… I don't know. Maybe because I like playing with you."

You raised your voice "So you made me fly 4 hours to come here just for this?!!!"

Steve nodded. 

Oh, how he loves to see you being mad. That's his plan from the beginning. He still holds the grudge for you to make him stay in jail for three nights. 

-Flashback Start-

Steve was furious for sure when he got the letter from the court. He is the mobster leader in the city. How come a newcomer detective like you has the guts to put him to jail?

The audacity of ungrateful people. What's the point of bribing the police every month? They should've put a good leash on their member. 

Every second and every minute all he can think about is what he should do with you if both of you meet. Quick death or slow death. 

But he thinks of another plan when he finally meets you face to face. You're a new sheriff in the town. He wonders what kind of brilliant mind you have that made you able to catch him. 

When you interrogated him, you were fierce and fearless. Even the chief of the police told you to calm down but you wouldn't listen. 

Since that moment you got him interested. 

-Flashback End-

You suddenly stood up and sighed "If I had my gun, you would be bleeding right now."

"Is that a threat detective? Because I'm scared."

Bucky shook his head by looking at both of you. He turned his head to watch the TV. He widened his eyes when he saw the headline news. 

He turned up the volume "Steve, you should see this."

Both of you stopped arguing and looked at the TV. 

"Breaking news. Another stabbed victim at the well known flower shop called Sienna Flower's. The victim is a 77 years old female. Witnesses said the victim was closing the shop when she got stabbed. The paramedics informed us that the victim got stabbed on the chest and lost her life on the way to the hospital."

You gasped. "Sienna." You couldn't believe it. You just left the shop for an hour and something terrible happened. You lost your old friend. 

On your left, Steve only sees red. He clenched his fist. Sienna is a sweet old lady. His mother always went there and he always bought flowers from that shop for his mother.  

What kind of heartless person wants to hurt a kind person like Sienna? He will chase the culprit until the end of the earth.

"Boys."

"YES BOSS!!!"

"Gather everyone to check on that area. Everyone gathered all the information. I will kill that person by myself."

All his subordinates left the room after they got the order. 

After they left, Steve tried to stand up from his bed "Urgh." 

When he touches his left waist, you finally see his wound. It's still bleeding.

"Are you crazy? You can't move yet."

You're right. The stabbed wound was deep. If the painkiller runs out, this wound will be painful. The doctor told Steve that couldn't move his body freely for a week. And he doesn't want to get another stitch. 

Suddenly he got an idea. 

Steve leaned his body towards you and whispered in your ear, "Detective do you want to work together to catch who killed Sienna?"

You looked at his eyes. It never crossed your mind to work together with gangster leaders like Steve Rogers. But with his mafia connections, you could catch the culprits quicker. 

"Heck yeah."

A/N: Reblog and any feedback are much appreciated. I love reading all your comments. 💖😘

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi please 🥹

[imaginedreamwrite]

Soft mafia Steve gets dragged to a craft store because our dear reader wants to get his artist side out again after he worked too much lately. Maybe crafting some cute Christmas decorations could help

“You’re exhausting yourself.” He hears you from the bedroom and sees you in the reflection of the mirror sitting cross legged on the bed, your hands tucked under your chin. “You need a vacation.”

“A vacation with my little ballerina? Somewhere hot and sunny, my sweet wife naked on a beach-“ Steve’s lips twitched and a smirk was on the cusp as he caught the moment you had faltered.

“That’s not what I meant…” you diverted your attention and then he saw you moving to get off the bed, striding toward the closet. “You should take a vacation by yourself.”

“Where are you going?” Steve left the bathroom, dressed in a soft cotton shirt that hugged his broad chest and shoulders, a pair of dark wash jeans that’s hugged his legs and thighs, and a sleek dark leather jacket that made him look like a runway model.

“I’m going to an art supply place,” you drew yourself away from the closet after grabbing a cardigan, “wanna come with me?”

“A date, little ballerina?” Steve hummed, coming to stand behind you with his hands resting on your hips. “What do you need today?”

“A few things.” You hummed and leaned back against his chest. “You could always stay here-“

“We’ll get coffee,” Steve brushed his lips against your neck, softly caressing your skin, “and then get lunch.”

“Aren’t you too busy?”

“Not for my wife.” Steve crooned and kissed you once more before he pulled away. “Let’s get out of here.”

** ** **

“Have you thought about sketching and painting again?” Your question breaks the silence as you wander from one aisle to the next, gathering a few things and dropping them into the cart you were pushing.

Steve’s hand has been steadily resting on your back as he walked with you, his fingers curling against the soft cardigan you wore, his hip occasionally bumping against your own. He was a steady and gorgeous, albeit intimidating, figure as he stalked along beside you and looked at the Christmas themed selection.

“You overwork yourself, you need to relax and take a load off.” You reached for another item and dropped it into the cart, gathering a mass of separate pieces to create Christmas decorations for your home.

“Would you like me to return to artwork?” Steve wondered, turning you to face him head-on. “To help myself relax, I would need a model.”

“A model?” Your hand paused against his chest, your eyes wandering from his chest to his ocean blue-green eyes.

“How about…” Steve had gathered a string of pearl garland and ran his thumb over the delicate beads. “…we get these and I’ll wrap them around your perfect little body, and then I’ll sketch.”

“Just this?” Your voice shook, your heart racing. “And me-“

“-naked, sweetheart. I’m gonna sketch you naked all dolled up for me for Christmas.”

[natashadied4oursins]

Nice Like That (Steve x Reader)

Pairing: Soft Mafia!Steve x Female Reader/OC

Summary: Steve’s musings about a life-changing decision he’s made for his lady.

Author’s Notes: Third person POV. Reader not in scene. It’s just Steve alone in his office thinking/reminiscing.

Warnings: swearing, controlling Steve, protective Steve, possessive Steve, stalking, premarital sex (oh no!)

Word count: 1580

Nice Like That

Steve leaned back in his office chair with a satisfied smirk, his feet propped on his desk. Anyone seeing his face would think he’d just made some shrewd, calculated business move on the chessboard that was the New York City mafia world when inside he was as giddy as a motherfucking school boy. He’d decided the woman he’d been seeing for the last couple of weeks would move in with him that afternoon. He ordered Sam to pack up her stuff from her dingy apartment and take care of any financial penalties that might accrue with her landlord and roommates. He was nice like that.

The impact that woman had on him was so unexpected when he saw her dancing with her girlfriends at one of his clubs. She was more than just pretty; she was sexy even in a green sundress similar to the dresses he’d sworn he’d seen the ladies at church wear. She stood out—not because she wore such a modest dress, but because of the way said dress hugged her tits, hips, and the top of her ass; her curves just refused to be hidden away.

She didn’t seem like a regular club-goer, but she sure was having fun with her girls. She was laughing, waving her arms in the air, and swaying her hips. She wasn’t much of a dancer, but he loved watching her just the same. She jumped giggling when he lightly touched her hips from behind. She turned meeting his eyes, and she became quiet, her lips giving a hint of a smile.

It took him a bit longer than it should’ve to stop staring and lower his lips next to her ear to ask her to dance. Now, Steve Rogers does not ask girls to dance. No. He just grabs their hips and dances with them and they are usually all for it. No big deal. This girl was way too classy for that…in her twenty-dollar-Target-looking dress.

It was funny. She tried to appear so cool and confident--even though she gulped when his breath was on her skin when he asked her to dance--and she answered his question with a nonchalant shrug and a cute little smirk. Her breath hitched when he pulled her body close to his. He respected the effort. He was used to people trying to look tough around him. He liked catching her off guard. He liked feeling her shudder under his touch.

He made out with her in the VIP section while her friends ordered whatever they wanted a few feet away. He convinced her to go home with him before he got too riled up and had to have her sit on his dick right there and then. He’d told himself she’d just be a quick lay, but deep down he knew it was bullshit. Instead, he ended up spending the entire weekend in bed with her at his estate.

Steve had talked her into calling in sick that weekend, but he couldn’t convince her to quit her job so he’d be able to see her more. He’d promised to pay her bills for a whole fricking year, but she said she didn’t need a sugar daddy. He made sure to get Little Miss Independent’s number before dropping her off at her place. He didn’t last five fucking minutes before calling her about having dinner with him at one of his restaurants the following night. He had Bucky rearrange his schedule—it must’ve been a pain in the ass and he was sure he pissed off a few people, but Steve had to see her again.

He sent a nice blue, flowy chiffon dress to her apartment ahead of time for her to wear to the restaurant. He didn’t care what she wore, but he didn’t want her to feel out of place. He just knew what pricks rich people could be--even though none would dare openly insult any lady on Steve Rogers’ arm, especially in his own restaurant.

She actually thanked him for the dress because she didn’t have anything to wear to such a fancy place. He was relieved she didn’t feel insulted, and now he knew there were some gifts she’d accept from him. She was stunning and even turned a few heads making Steve both proud and irritated anyone would look at his lady. That’s right—his lady.

He had her talk about herself during dinner; he wanted to know everything about her. (They hadn’t done a lot of talking during their weekend together.) He’d also had Sam do a thorough background check on her, but the file was still in his office unread. It somehow felt wrong to read it just before their date—like it’d be invading her privacy or something. He’d also had Bucky follow her around to gather more information about her daily life and routine…and to make sure no one touched what was his.

When Steve asked her to dance, she reluctantly agreed warning him she wasn’t a good dancer. He knew; he didn’t care. “You looked pretty good dancing at my club last Friday,” he couldn’t help but tease. She actually blushed. He’d seen her naked for an entire weekend, but she was anxious about where to put her feet while she was covered up in some classy, flowy dress that highlighted all her curves? It was adorable.

Steve just wanted to hold her again, so dancing seemed like the logical solution. He didn’t want her to think he just wanted sex from her. He wanted her. He knew he was falling hard for her like some pathetic schmuck, but he just couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck.

He wanted all of her. It was cheesy, but he wanted to keep her deepest secrets, banish her insecurities and fears; he wanted her to tell him her hopes and dreams so he could make them come to life. He wanted everything. He wanted to give her everything.

She’d flinched when he put his hand on her hip. He smiled remembering how rough they’d been with each other that last weekend. She was probably still sore other places too. He had his own reminders--she actually drew blood during the many times her nails dug along his back during their time together.

With what she told him, and the information Sam and Bucky gathered, Steve learned that she lived with roommates she found online and worked as a waitress at one of those 24-hour diners. (He did not like the thought of her working overnight--vulnerable to shady customers). She’d been a foster kid who’d struggled a lot in school. He’d known foster kids growing up in his neighborhood, and Sam, a former counselor, confirmed it was common for foster kids to have their education “disrupted.” The fact that she was putting herself through college in her late twenties impressed Steve. She was tough and resilient, and he was so proud of her.

Steve also learned she volunteered with current foster kids, and she occasionally worked at a homeless soup kitchen. He couldn’t believe how fucking pure she was! She was definitely too good for him. He almost felt guilty for dragging her into his world. Almost. As much as he admired and respected her, he was a selfish bastard and there was no way he was going to let her go. She belonged to him now.

The thought of not coming home to her every night after a long day of making deals, busting skulls, reining in hotheads and bribing politicians then waking up next to her and making love to her every morning and do the whole thing over again solidified his decision. There was no way he was going to deprive himself of her sweet comfort.

He’d have to limit her excursions and have a bodyguard with her at all times—maybe Romanoff or Belova or both--he had to protect his girl. He was happy to let her continue some of her volunteering on top of letting her finish school since both were so important to her. That way she’d have a life outside their home—he was nice like that.

Steve would have to be patient and understanding with her. She’d be in shock from the sudden move to his house and his world. Yes, her movements would be limited because of how dangerous his world was, but she’d also want for nothing—all she’d have to do is snap her pretty little fingers and he’d fetch whatever she wanted like a goddamn golden retriever.

He’d give her her dream wedding even if it took months to plan—if it was up to him, they’d get married at the court house that very day. He was even willing to wait until she finished her degree before getting her pregnant. (She'd be such a good mother!) He was nice like that. She was a smart girl; she’d adjust eventually and he’d be with her every step of the way.

Steve checked the time. She would be leaving work soon and would be at her apartment in the next hour or so. He’d had Bucky reschedule his business dinner that evening so he could meet her at her—now former—apartment. It was only polite to tell her in person that she’d be moving in with him and that she’d be spending the rest of her life with him. He was nice like that.

[sunflowersoldat]

All is Fair~ Peace & Parallels

Chapter 21: Peace & Parallels

Previous Chapter

Main Master List

Series Master List

Series Summary: Family is important, but so is the Family business. Everyone has secrets, some are deadly. Your the best in the business, but no one knows who you are. Tensions are high, will you raise the stakes or fold under the pressure?

Series Warning: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter.

Chapter warnings: 18+ Only! Emotional trauma, Bad language words, SMUT!

Pairing: Mob!Steve x Assassin!Stark!reader

Word count: 2.8K

A/N: I am fuckinnnnnn tired, but the chapter is finished and it makes me happy to make yall happy sooo here ya go! The Holiday season really fucks me up... as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always welcome! Anyhow, enjoy!💕

Your phone woke you from your dreams, you groaned as you silenced the shrill ringing. You brought the small bright screen to your face, your eyes straining to adjust in the darkness. Several messages littered your screen, some from Zemo, a couple from Loki, but the newest one was from Wade:

‘Need 2 move on targets 2nite b4 its too l8’

You rolled your eyes, you hated when he used shorthand. He was right though, you still needed to meet with him to go over the intel he had found, and make your move before you missed your window of opportunity. 

You respond, letting him know you will meet with him soon, first you need to shower and get dressed. Locking your phone you place it back on your nightstand before turning over to see Steve sleeping peacefully next to you. A content sigh leaves your lips as your fingertips trace lightly along the smooth plains of his face. Rolling over you begin to rise from the bed, but his strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back against him, then under him, forearms caging you. His chiseled torso looming above yours.

“Going somewhere, sweetheart?” His voice is rough from sleep, a playful glint shining in his eyes.

Rolling your eyes, you lean up to peck his lips, “Yes… I have business to attend to and I am in need of a shower–”

His lips seal over yours, cutting you off, your eyes flutter shut, hands slipping to caress his face. You pull away gently, a smile splitting your lips.

Groaning he places his head in the crook of your neck, his beard tickling the sensitive skin as he kisses down your shoulder, then back up your neck. Sighing you stop his ascent, holding his face above yours, “The city is in flames.”

He breaks from your hold, nuzzling your neck, breathing against your skin, “Mmm. Let it burn.”

“Steve…” You warn.

When he pulls away again, his eyes are clouded in thought, his gaze far away. You place your hands on both sides of his face, your forehead pressed against his, “Hey. Come back to me…” he blinks, the fogginess fades. A sad smile lifts your lips,  “there you are… Listen, I have to do this, it's important.”

He shakes his head lightly.

“Please, let me handle this…” you swallow hard, “Let me fix this.” Your eyes meet his, pleading him to understand.

He nods slowly, “The moment this is all over, you are mine.”

A smile plays on your lips, if only it was that easy, you don’t have the heart to break his hope, so you nod in agreement, “After I finish this, I’m all yours.”

His eyes slip shut, his jaw clenching, “Promise me, Angel.”

Your heart feels like lead in your chest, but you agree, “I Promise.”

Rising from the bed, he offers you his hand, pulling you toward your bathroom he begins to shed what little clothing he still wears. His navy sweats hang low on his hips, he pulls you against him. His chest is bare and warm, your fingers splay against the taught muscles as his hands find the hem of your night-shirt, lifting it off your body. The cool air kissing your skin as his eyes rake over you.

Walking the two of you towards your shower, he flicks on the water before hooking his thumbs into your underwear, kneeling as he slips them off you.

Your brows scrunch, “Steve, what are you doing?” 

He stands again, peppering your lips with his, his whispers meeting your ears between kisses, “You said we needed a shower.”

You pull away, raising a brow, “No, I said I need a shower.”

“Same thing.” he shrugs, his eyes softening when they meet yours, they are so vibrant and alive, like the first time you ever met him in the casino elevator. You want to get lost in them, dive beneath the surface, and drown in him. He smirks, tucking your hair behind your ear, his fingers gently grazing the spade tattoo, you shiver. “Besides, you better get used to this, we have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

Damn right you do, but a sinking feeling gnaws at your heart, how much time did you truly have to try and make it up? Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you chuckle as he fumbles to strip himself of his pants, whisking you into the shower, the warm water trickling down your skin. He allows you the time to properly clean your hair and body, but he is oddly quiet. When you finish, you turn to him, your head tilting at his lost expression, stepping closer your hand softly caresses his cheek. 

“Stevie?”

His eyes slowly rake over your body before locking with yours. 

“Forget this city.” there is a resolve in his voice as it meets your ears, a fire in his eyes, your heart squeezing in your chest, your brows knit together.

One of his hands covers yours against his cheek, the other pulling you against him, “I mean it. We can run, right now.” His eyes frantically searched yours, “No one needs to know, we can disappear, just me and you, never look back.” There under his resolve, you hear the brokenness he is fighting to hide. With each passing moment that you don’t agree, you can see the hope fading from his eyes.

Swallowing hard, you shake your head, “I can’t.” you drop his gaze, “I’m sorry, I have to fix this, to ensure you are safe.” you feel the tears prick your eyes, as they settle over his still healing wound, your hand grazes it softly. Guilt slicing through you at the sight, “I’m so sorry...”

He lifts your chin so your eyes meet his again, “Don’t be,” his lips tilt upward, but there is still a great sadness haunting his eyes. “I’m a big target, kinda hard to miss…” his thumb swipes the tears that tumble down your cheeks. 

Biting your lip you shake your head again, “It's my fault… I–”

He silences you, crushing his lips over yours in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, it's all consuming, as if you were the oxygen he needed to survive. His hands fall from your face to slip across your skin, causing goosebumps to break out across your body, one snakes around your thigh, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist, the other on your lower back, pressing you impossibly closer. He spins you, caging you against the wall, the sensation of the icy tile against your back, and his warm chest causes a shudder to ripple through you, a moan slipping past your lips. 

A growl rumbles in his chest as his hardened length slips against your center, your breath catching in your throat. His hand on your thigh slips up into your hair, pulling your head back, so he can watch your face contort in pleasure as he spears into you slowly. Your eyes slip shut as he starts his agonizingly slow pace, you can feel all of him, each little roll of his hips, the way his head rubs just where you need him. He is taking his time with you, being so gentle it’s almost painful, he has you writhing against the wall. Your nails digging into his arms and back, his thrusts hard and slow, like he is learning you all over again. Burning you into his memory, his lips pepper onto your skin, kissing and nipping at the slick flesh of your neck and chest. 

Both of you are slowly descending into madness, he knows what you need as he slips one hand between your bodies, expertly applying pressure as he circles your bud. A particularly harsh thrust has you careening over the edge, vision bursting with white spots as you clench around him, your back arching off the wall. His lips seal around one breast, his thrusts now faster, the rhythm failing as he chases his high. He releases your breast, truly pornographic sounds echo off the tiles as he buries his head in your neck. Both his hands wrap around your waist to steady you as he shoves deeper one last time before he finally stills, warmth spreading inside you, the two of you breathing heavily, he presses his forehead to yours.

“Swear to me, you’ll come back. That we will be together.”

“Yes.” you breathe against his lips.

“Swear it.” His grip on your hips tightens almost painfully, the broken plea leaving his lips.

“I swear.”

—

Wade walked into the downstairs office where you were lounging in the desk chair your feet propped up on the desk. Your gaze locked on Steve in the training area, the sound of punches landing on vinyl echoes as the office door opens. 

Wade’s eyes follow yours as Steve stops his assault on the bag. Wade turns in time to watch Steve’s eyes meet yours. There is a light in his eyes, a happiness that seems out of place given the current circumstances.

The door clicks shut, Wade leans against it, waiting for you to acknowledge him, when you don’t he sighs loudly. Only then do you pull your attention to him, a distant look in your eyes.

He clicks his tongue, “Let me guess. You made a promise you can’t keep.” 

The look you give him tells him all he needs to know, you don’t even try to deny it.

Your brows knit together, “Is it bad to give him hope?”

Wade walks closer, sitting next to your feet on the desk, “False hope can do more damage than an honest truth, no matter how painful.”

Your mouth quirks to the side as you chew your bottom lip, “Who says it’s false?”

Wade shoots you an apathetic look, your name leaving his lips softly, “You know the dead cannot mix with the living.”

Your gaze falls, fingers idly fidgeting as you lift your gaze back out to Steve, “Don’t tell him.”

His heart aches for you, nothing has gone right for you, out of everyone here, you’ve lost the most. As your friend it pains him to watch the sadness roll into your eyes, he nods slowly, “It’s not my place, kid.”

You swallow, and as if he had imagined the past five minutes, you stand from your seat, your normal, terrifying persona is back in place. Calm and collected, as if the man you would die for and life you deserve isn’t just out of reach.

Your eyes slide to his, “You wanted to talk about the intel?”

The change in demeanor gave Wade whiplash, but he would never call attention to it, “Yeah, let’s go upstairs, Zemo has more he wants to inform us on.”

—

The three of you enter Zemo’s office, Steve’s hand rests on your lower back as he ushers you through the doors. Zemo is sitting at his desk, a deep frown creasing his brow as he stares at his phone. In the corner, by the bookshelves sits Loki, his head propped on his hand, deep in thought, he doesn't even acknowledge you as you walk in.

Zemo greets the three of you without looking up, his hand raised, offering a new phone, “Mr. Rogers, I assume your men would like to be informed of your current state.” 

Steve lingers for a moment, his hand sliding to grasp your waist briefly as he moves to accept the phone, thanking him. Steve nods to you and Wade, “I'll only be a moment.”

You give him a soft smile as he heads back out onto the main casino floor, you can already hear one of his men pickup as the door shuts. You turn your attention back to Zemo, who is now leaning back in his chair, loosening his tie, before steepling his hands on the desk in front of him. He sighs heavily, his eyes weary as he takes you and Wade in.

“I have set up a meeting between Steve and your brother at the ‘Lumerian’, a private room has been reserved. I want you there Wraith, we need both of these men to settle this, otherwise none of us will survive what's to come.”

“Yessir.”

“Sweep the building, ensure your brother hasn’t set any traps or brought backup. As of right now your only order is to ensure Rogers stays alive at all costs. Is that understood?”

You exhale, “Yessir.” 

“Good. Желать, (zhelat, obsession.) you are with Laufeyson, his personal security for the time being.”

Wade eyes Loki, whose attention is finally on the three of you. Wade looks to you, then to Zemo, “Sir, permission to brief her?”

Zemo gestures to you, nodding, “You have the floor.”

Wade straightens, “The phone you gave me a few months back happened to be quite fruitful. As it turns out, Francis happens to be half of the four horsemen–”

You scowl, “The four horsemen?” your eyes flicker to Zemo, “They were exiled for their brutality, their methods are downright barbaric! How the hell have they been operating here, under our noses?!”

Zemo nods in agreement, “It would seem they have had help. Laufeyson knows their whereabouts, he will find out where they will be tonight. Then you and Желать (Zhelat) will take care of them.”

Wade clears his throat, “They also happen to be the ones responsible for your museum, and for beating up Steve’s kid. There have been murmurs of one of them being responsible for your parents’ accident…”

Anger flares within you, no wonder Peter had been so brutalized, the Four Horsemen were downright cruel in their punishments, fucking sadists. If they were responsible for your parents death, you were going to rip them apart when you got your hands on them.

Wade places his hand on your shoulder, giving you a knowing look, “Loki and I will contact you with the address, the minute we locate them.”

“It will just be the two of you. Заря and Удача (Zarya/Dawn, Udacha/fortune) are out of town, you won't have any backup.” Zemo gives the two of you a pointed look, “I don’t care how it's done, I want them gone. Then we will make our final move on our mutual friend.” 

You give Wade a vicious grin, “Don’t start without me.”

He gives a grin that matches yours, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Keep him alive Желат (zhelat), you are dismissed.”

Wade nods as he and Loki head for the doors. Loki walks towards you first, the door to the office opens as Steve walks in. Loki grasps your gloved hand, placing a kiss to your knuckles, “Goodluck darling. Give ‘em hell.” He turns toward the door, stopping and turning to you one last time, his eyes meeting yours as Steve stops beside you, you can feel Steve watching the two of you. Loki gives you a camera worthy smile, “Goodbye Death Darling, it was a pleasure doing business with you.”

You couldn’t help but feel like his parting words held a stifling amount of finality—

“Wraith…”

Zemo pulled your attention back to him, “Did you ever receive blood from Steve or Barnes?”

Your brows rose then furrowed, what kind of question was that, “I’m sorry sir? I don't–”

Zemo’s eyes met yours, pursing his lips before letting go of a long breath, “Your blood work came back from the night we pulled you out of the bay.” he paused, you could see him trying to find the right words for what he was about to say. Your stomach dropped, you didn’t like where this was going.

—

When Steve arrives at the Lemurian Star, he arrives alone. You had convinced him to drop you off a block away so you could ensure it was safe for him to arrive. He sat in the driver’s seat in front of the restaurant, he didn’t know what to expect from this meeting. The last time he had seen your brother, he had tried his damndest to kill him, Steve’s hand lightly grazed the wound under his shirt, and Tony damn near succeeded.

Taking a deep breath he centered himself, there were obviously bigger fish, he and Tony would need to set aside their differences, if not for your sake, for the sake of surviving. 

Steve didn’t know who to trust, Loki and his brother felt slimy, he didn’t know if he could trust his own men, Bucky had proven he couldn't. And he didn’t necessarily trust Zemo or the other Aces, but he trusted you. After everything, you had saved his life, risking yours in the process, betraying your own brother, for him. 

He knew Bucky thought he was insane for even considering trusting you, but at this point, if you were to truly be his demise, he would gladly die at your hands… 

No.

Neither of you were going to die, this was going to blow over and then the two of you would leave this damn city behind for good. He would give you the life you deserved, maybe settle down have a few—

Ding

His phone vibrated in his hand, the little notification lighting up his screen:

Angel: Clear. It’s just Tony. Third floor.

Steve leaned his head back against the headrest, taking another deep breath.

Let's get this over with.

—

@dontbescaredtosingalong @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza @captainson-of-coul @betareader7 @vicmc624 @bigphattygyal @calwitch @buckysteveloki-me @curlyladylazarus111 @talesofadragon

[steviebbboi]

MobSteve that I just cannot shake omg 🫨

Chain You Up.

Mob!Steve x Stripper!Reader (one-shot)

Run-through: You have a flirty relationship with a bad man. One who has a corrupted heart and so many skeletons in his closet that he never bothers to hide them anymore. Steve Rogers; infamous mob boss, owner of the club you worked at and also the one who could make you purr like a kitten so easily. Whatever you both had going on was always playful and momentary, until it wasn’t. One night, you actually witness the mob boss in action. In those fleeting seconds, you realized that there was no way things could go back to how they used to be… 

Themes: smut, stripper!reader, explicit language, mild daddy kink, violence and death (not graphic)

“Look, your man is here again.” 

“Seriously, that man is so obsessed with you.” 

“I wish I also had a regular who was that good looking and loaded.” 

Keep reading

[veltana]

Divergent Mafia AU - Steve/Reader

This is like a divergent, extra thing I needed to get out when I wrote Bucky's break-up.

Steve and Reader are laying in bed, listening to Bucky have sex and help each other out.

NSFW-ish. Grinding.

"How does he even do it?" Steve sounds a little amazed as you both lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. "Drugs?" you ask. "Honestly, it has to be, how else is he going at it all the time like that?" "Maybe they're all faking it?" you suggest. "I've never heard anyone complain about him," Steve shrugs "But I mean statistically he can’t get it right for everyone every time." "If he does, he is one of a kind," you decide. "Tempted to go for a ride?" you hear the smile in Steve's voice without even looking.

You shrug but you would be lying if you told Steve that you weren't curious. Not only did the women sound pleased but Bucky’s sounds could be heard through the walls too and his deep voice moaning out how fucking good it felt had you tempted to touch yourself while listening to them.

When you don't answer Steve rolls on top of you, resting his hands beside your head, his thighs pressing your legs wide, clearly displaying the hard cock in his gray sweatpants. With your lower lip between your teeth, you lift your hips to meet his and when he moves against you, quiet moans come from both of you.

You stare at each other as he ruts against you and all you want to do is pull off your pajamas, yank down his pants, guide him into you, and let him fuck you until you're screaming louder than Bucky’s girl. But instead, you wrap your legs around his hips and press harder against him, bowing your back, trying to find the best angle. There are no kisses, this isn't that kind of thing, this is just two friends helping each other out with a common problem.

Steve drops his head, his arms shaking a little, he's probably close but so are you. Almost a week of imaging Bucky fucking and listening to every sound has got you on edge.

"Yes, Steve!" you hiss as color explodes behind your eyes and a familiar feeling flushes your body. Steve shudders out a moan and the front of his pants turns a darker shade of gray. Then he's laying next to you again, both of you breathing heavily.

"We should talk to him," you yawn when you hear the front door slam shut.

"I need to sleep," Steve says and reaches for you. Hugging you close before you both fall asleep.

[neonovember]

Bruised Knuckles

Mafia!au x Steve Rogers

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3

summary: your escape to Brooklyn was harboured by secrets and a harrowed past, left abused and betrayed, you accepted your destiny of being swallowed by the crowd. Until the King of New York showed up in front of you and wanted a piece of you for himself.

9K words

a/n: this one is a really long chapter, I went a little overboard, maybe this makes up for my procrastination

The whizz of a snowball blurs crystal white from the corner of your eye as your feet crunch across the gravelled road, the breeze of melting ice from the summer heat just misses you, and for a second you think- he's going to hit you for real

You can hear the barrelling of shoes behind you, and you know he’s advancing. He makes it really obvious when he tries to send an outstretched hand towards you, attempting to trip you, you laugh maniacally as you slip past wavering fingers.

“You gotta be a lot faster than that Rogers!” You howl it into the wind as it takes it, and the grunts of running are heard behind you as you slip through the alleyway into the trail that leads to the pine forest on the edge of town.

“C'mon, that’s not fair!” Steve shouts after you, turning your head you catch his staggering frame, hands pressed into his knees as he bends over, huffing and puffing as if the world didn’t have enough air to fill his lungs.

“Hey, you’re the one with the so-called impeccable aim” You tease

You slow down your pace as you feel the wind ruffle your hair, it’s summertime and you drink in the syrupy goodness that comes with evenings in daylight. The broad pine trees tower over the both of you, leaves and sprinkles of birch fall from the tops and settle around you as you lean against a tree. You would never get used to this, the earthy smell of some thousand-year-old monuments, the laughter of Steve’s voice. Never.

���God, I wish I could just stay here forever”, You whisper to him, eyes glossing over the clearing you both arrived at, an ingrained letter of your initials in one of the trees to the left, a fire pit surrounded by rocks, now ashes and dirt.

“We could, you know we can” Steve’s voice comes back, between awkward breaths of lung-filled air.

“Yes we could, we could, but then we’d just be like our parents, stuck in a town that’s stuck in the past. God, I know my father would never forgive me if I ended up like him” You say solemnly, kicking a stone at the base of your aged converse.

“Come with me,” Steves says suddenly, and you look up to see his staggering form leaning across a tree. His breathing seems to be back to normal, as he walks towards you. Suddenly though, it's your heart that has begun to thump loudly behind your ribs.

“Huh? What- What do you mean?” You ask bringing up a hand to wipe the perspiration settling uncomfortably on your forehead.

“Let’s go, me and you, right now. Let's leave this town and everything in it for good. Your mom, my father, fuck, everyone” Steve urges, his hands wavering around his words, he's never been afraid to look you in the eye, but now his focus is anywhere but you. God, he couldn't do this without you, he needed you, and now he was praying to the heavens you needed him just as bad.

“I-“ You begin to form your reply, before forcing Steve's chin to face you, he had grown a whole foot taller over the winter and it was awkward to reach up at him at such a low angle.

“Look at me Stevie” You plead, and all it takes is the sound of your calling for him to do anything you ask him to. 

Steve’s cerulean blues watch you closely, the burning feeling of anxiety and trepidation spilling into his stomach as waits on your every word.

You begin mouthing words, your eyes shining with an expression his only since one before, but he isn't able to understand. Like his dove into the deep end, your words are muffled and unintelligible, you look at him then, confusion lacing your features. You look at him like he’s turned into an alien, and he can't fucking hear you goddamnit. You mouth those same words, yet they don't reach Steve, hitting the surface, unable to penetrate and find him.

The edges of his vision begin to burn a dirty orange, and the pine trees surrounding the both of you begin to melt. The bright orange storm of a wildfire burns behind you, lighting up your features like a beacon. Steve begins to scream, he tries to scream, he fails to scream, he reaches for you, shaking as he nudges your shoulder to look behind. The confusion on your face increases as your eyebrows furrow and a shivering fear wraps itself around Steve's spine, as the fire edges closer and closer.

You're not listening, acting as if nothing has happened as the heat drips down Steve’s back, a feeling of grief washes over Steve as he realises your going to die out here, in the town you hate, you're going to be buried 6 feet into the dark dirt of this place for eternity. 

And for the first time, Steve panics. He can't speak, he can't move,  he can't save you. He's a little boy again, hanging onto the last bar of the monkey bars as you cheer him on from below. But no matter how far he stretched out his hand he can't reach it, he can't reach you. And those same hot tears spill down his face, dripping down his neck, dirty and humiliating and fucking weak. The flickering tongues of the wild forest fire wraps itself around the pine trees, and before Steve can reach for you, before Steve can even scream, you're engulfed by the formidable inferno, and like a flame to a photograph, you’re gone.

Just like that.

-- -

Steve wakes with a shivering sweat, his internal furnace staining the sheets as the glistening perspiration slides down his back uncomfortably.

The sun is just peeking through the fluttering linen curtains, and Steve reaches around to place the fallen alarm clock back onto the side table. It seems it was knocked during his slumber, his slumber. You had begun to seep into his mind until you began to stain even his subconscious, confronting him with past memories that seemed like mirages all these years later.

There were ginormous, those pine trees that towered over the edge of town, he remembers how they seemed like giants compared to his sullen form. In a sense, Steve admired them, they were resilient, to man-made destruction, against the forces of nature, they stood still and remained unchanged, he doesn't doubt they would be the same even now when the both of you had changed so much. He doesn't doubt those engraved initials would still feel the same against his thumb, even if Steve felt something akin to betrayal when you had scraped both your initials into one of the birch trunks.

Those pine tree roots that sprung beneath the surface that travelled for miles, seemed to interlink the both of you, wrapping themselves around you until you both would be forever joined, somehow, even thousands of miles away. Steve would never escape their grasp, he could never escape you, no matter how hard he tried he was nothing against the monumental giants of nature. 

A burn of nostalgia and regret begins to unfurl in Steve's stomach as he begins to piece back the fractured parts of the dream that had slowly begun to slip between his fingers. He's reaching desperately, hopelessly, reaching for them, grabbing at scraps of years where he wasn't always so mad, so exhausted, so indifferent.

It had been years since his mind had reopened the memories from his childhood, and it is with caution, those times were locked in a chained drawing cabinet, filed impeccably and thrown into the Mariana trench and left to rot. There wasn't time, and money to waste on nostalgia, not in the life Steve had chosen for himself, not after those same hands reaching for that chest were blooded and raw with sin. No, no, those memories were long tainted, there was no point in digging up old graves.

The bleeding red digits indicate it's far too early in the morning, and therefore just the right time to get up, for Steve Rogers, at least. The crumbled and sweaty sheets are left haphazardly on the bed for the in-house maid to clean, and Steve wastes no time jumping into a cold shower to wash off the uncomfortable reality of his past.

The activities from last night still seeped into his blond locs, across his chest, and between his fingers, and Steve grumbles as he recalls the waste of space and energy that informant had been. Steve turns the water a scalding hot and the nostalgia, memory and fevered dream of you is washed down the drain along with the dirty red specks of blood and dust that were still stuck to the edges of his skin.

He just needed to talk to you today, and use this poorly organised meeting to clear his head. If he set boundaries, if he set an endgame then it would be easier to de-attach himself from the grasp of contingencies. Steve wouldn’t make you a liability, he couldn’t, he doesn’t think he could live with himself if he did.

The clank of Steve’s cuff links roll across the chestnut drawer and they remind him of the years with his father. The red and white pills rolling across the rotting wooden floors of the home you wouldn’t call home. His snake eyes and silvery skin seemed to pale and scale each day that passed. Steve shakes his head, muttering as he clicks them into his cuffs. As far as he knew, his father was as good as dead. To him at least.

His fingers grasp the keys to his car, they jingle in his broad palm and he pockets them swiftly, the ring of his cell phone resounds through the quiet room and Steve reaches for it quickly. A call this early in the morning meant one thing and one thing only, what had occurred in the night was not yet finished, seeping into the safety of the morning light.

Steve nods along to the gruff voice sounding from the receiver, a hand coming to push back his fallen locks, leaving the room Steve enters the Manor's kitchen space.

Bucky is perched on one of the silver stools, sipping on a glass filled with what seemed to be orange juice, but with closer inspection was clear to be all parts liquor with a splash of the citric acid. God, alcohol this early in the morning? Steve ought to get Bucky a therapist.

Bucky senses Steve's presence before he even steps into the room, eyes trained on his figure practically hugging the cell phone perched between his ear and shoulder. A puzzled expression fills Bucky’s face as if to say ‘What are they saying?’ And Steve waves him off as he takes the steaming cup of coffee waiting for him on the ceramic countertop.

The kitchen is soundless this early in the morning safe for Steve's peaceful sips and Bucky’s fervent gulps, and a few minutes pass before Steve ends the call abruptly, a grim expression overtaking his features.

Bucky stands at attention, his eyebrows raising as he awaits steves explanation for such an early call.

“Got some trouble from the east end, some low-level goons messing with some of our men. One of the guys wants to meet up to talk ownership over the east side docks.” Steve replies, throwing the cell phone onto the granite counter, it clatters and bounces for a second before it settles in the corner.

“Isn’t that owned by, ya know, our runaway girl's husband?” Bucky replies, pushing against the counter to get up and walk towards Steve.

Steve nods, hands bent across his chest as he leans against the counter.

“That’s what’s confusing, Micheal, you know the guy? Short stoic and always a little on edge? He’s saying that Matthews is willing to talk about some sort of alignment. Make that area some fort of peacekeeping, owned by the both of us” Steve replies.

“It’s not bad, both of our men up there would mean the problem of those pocket-picking gangs would be solved, less of a strain on us” Bucky nods along, before adding

“But, Micheal, he’s-, he isn’t really known for being the most reliable ya know? Gets you caught up in the details, blows them out of proportion and leaves too many loose ends” Bucky reasons, his body now across from Steve.

“It makes sense though, those rising groups haven't just incapacitated our operations, Matthews is suffering from their outstanding resilience to incapacitate them. But you’re right, Micheal can’t be completely trusted, that’s why I need to talk to some contacts and see what’s been seeping into conversations underground. Either way, I need to check on our men up there, see if everything alright” Steve sighs, mind reeling over the impending tasks on his mind, but most importantly you.

“You were meant to see her this morning, right” Bucky smirks as if reading Steve's mind from across him.

“Told her we’d iron some things out in the morning, promised to pick her up. This thing I’ve done, I don't want it to be for nothing Bucky, and I don’t want to go back on my word” Steve says solely, checking his phone for the 3rd time for your call.

“I need you and Sam to fill in for me,” Steve begins

Bucky nods before whipping his head to face Steve’s

“Sam? Why does he have to come, I'm perfectly capable of talking to her by myself” Bucky grumbles, and just like clockwork, Sam comes strolling in, his shirt rolled up to his forearms as he dusts off the specks of blood littering his chest.

Bucky looks towards the man in disgust, eyes rolling at the displays of violence clearly sprayed across his body. 

“Really? Do you have to walk around the house looking like you've just come from massacring a family of 5?” Bucky groans, going to plunk his glass into the sink.

“Who’s to say I didn’t” Sam replies, a mischievous grin pulling at the corner of his mouth, as he bumps into Bucky, pushing him to the side with his hip as he washes off the grime covering his fingers.

“Let's face it Bucky, you’re a bit…intimidating.” Steve trails off, amusement on his face as he watches Sam groan at the discovery of a stain ruining his dress shirt.

Bucky swirls his body to face Steve’s, his eyebrows raised in shock.

“Inti-intimidating? There’s a man in this room with blood-stained cuffs, and I’m the one who’s intimidating?” Bucky sputters

Steve shrugs his shoulders, a whisper of a smile etching itself on his face.

“You just have this lone wolf thing about you, it scares people off” Steve murmurs thoughtfully as if he’s been analysing Bucky’s palatability before.

“C'mon, she was practically telling me to piss off the last time I talked to her, she out of all people can handle a Barnes”. Bucky replies, an annoyed expression on his face.

Steve bristles at Bucky’s comment, for some reason, a fuelled hatred fills his chest at the mention of you having to ‘handle’ anything.

“She’s already agreed, there’s no need to intimate date her further, besides,  from what I’ve heard it seems she’s the one intimating you both” Steve lets out a comical laugh, swiping his phone from the counter and shoving it into his suit pants.

“Guess it’s a road trip?” Sam replies, before dodging an incoming plate thrown at him from the hands of Bucky.

“I swear to god…” Bucky replies gruffly, shouldering in his suit jacket before pushing past a snickering Sam

“Hey-“ Steve calls, his voice a little lower than moments before. Bucky’s stiff back turns slowly at the sound of Steve’s suddenly baritone voice that bounces through the swallowing hallways.

“Don’t scare her, try and be- just don’t show her your daggers or pull some stupid shit, I mean it. She’s different, I mean she was practically inducted into this life but she was always kept hidden, ya know? Never knew how deep it got” Steve says, the icy expression that morphs his features into the dark formidable creature he turns the air around them a frosty cold.

Both Sam and Bucky nod, they understood a command when they were told one, and this one seemed as if Steve’s entire being was hanging onto it.

— -

It's well into the morning light when you finally rise from your slumber, the beating heat slipping through the cracks of your blinds. A sense of anxiety rushes through you as you realise you’re late to work, clamouring out of bed and ending up on the floor.

However the sound of the neighbour kids bustling footsteps through the apartment complex eases your worries, it’s Sunday. Your well-earned, and only, day off.

You lay there, on the dusty carpet of your bedroom floor, and drink in the bliss of a day without a multitude of tasks that needed to be completed. Your legs ached from the turbulent labour you’d that had been forced on you daily for a job you knew didn’t pay for the work it took. You couldn't let yourself dwell on it, you'd only just ends up in a spiral of depression and regret you don't know you could pull yourself from. What you did need was coffee, you think you might collapse back onto the floor if you don't get that liquid gold in your body.

What can you say? Old habits die hard, for you, it was caffeine and for your husband it was knuckles on skin.

-- -

Your shower lasts less than the amount of time you have warm water, which is about 15 minutes. Not nearly enough to wash the grime and dirt that was always stuck to the back of your ears or other inconspicuous cracks you’d only find after the water had drained out.

It’s when you're pouring yourself a steaming brew into your favourite mug when you get the text. Your phone lights up, illuminating the small kitchen darkened by the black-out curtains you’d bought to keep the sun out. You can't help but grow audibly as you fear that your one day off would be interrupted by your boss’s demand for you to come in. It wouldn't be the first time she had thought you lived breathed and slipped on her every beck and call.

Flipping to the screen side up, your heart hammers loudly against your rips when you are confronted by an unknown number outlined in dark text

Something came up, Sam and Bucky are gonna come pick you up?

Steve.

You should be thinking about how he had found your number, or who this Sam is, but all your mind reels at is his apparent absence. Hell, you don’t know why but your heart sinks at that. You had thought that maybe, stupidly, you'd find out why he truly wanted to help you, use this meet-up to determine what his endgame was, and quell the what-ifs and questions that had been swirling around your skull since yesterday.

It was foolish really, to think that he would just open himself to you, that he wouldn't don the same mask he wore when he was ripping off drug lords and executing their men. You were simply another source of information to him, nothing more, nothing less. At least this way you knew where you stood.

Your phone begins to light up as the bubbles of an incoming text display on the grey chat. 

That alright?

He's asking for your permission? You can’t help but laugh, it erupts from the depths of your stomach and escapes through your mouth. And without even a blink of a second, you bent over, loud laughs leaving your mouth uncontrollably as hiccuped tears run down your cheek. The man who had no less than shown up at your workplace followed you home, and send his men after you were asking for your permission. You knew it meant nothing, you knew he would still send them anyway, he just wanted to make sure you did too.

You snatch your phone from the laminate counter, scoffing as you type out a reply,

Perfectly fine.

It was NOT perfectly fine, but you’re too tired at this point to argue, a little talk wouldn't ruin your day, and most importantly he wouldn't ruin your day.

Plopping yourself on your velvet couch you wipe the fallen tears stricken on your cheeks, you still had your coffee. Maybe you could throw that at him, he may be a formidable monster that dominated the criminal scenes of New York, but he was still human, and coffee was still fucking hot.

-- -

You watch Bucky and Sam pull into your apartment before they do, it wasn’t hard, a car like that in a place like this stood out like a sore thumb, you wouldn't doubt by the time they'd dragged you out of your home that they’d find their tires missing.

A smile lights your face at the thought, now that would be funny.

They exit with the car still running, donning tailored suits that clung to every dip and stretch of their body. You don't wait for them to knock when you catch their heavy footsteps pounding against the concrete balcony, maybe if they thought you weren't home they would just leave you alone.

You remain huddled into your coach,  watching their tall shadows move about the front of your apartment. They wouldn't try and break in right..?

There is a hurried knock that causes you to jump involuntarily, and it is soon followed by a bellowing baritone voice that seeps into the cracks of your plaster walls.

“Doll, we ain't got all day, and I know you’re in there so why don't you be a pretty peach and open the door?” Bucky’s voice causes you to bristle, and your teeth press into your bottom lip nervously. There is a sliver of dominance in his voice that doesn't quite reach the surface. Enough years and you learn when someone is trying to hold back. 

There is a rummaging of clothes before Bucky begins to speak again,

“This look like some reinforced steel Sam?, How about tripe pane glass?”

A man's voice soon follows, replying with a chuckled no.

“You hear that doll? Your door isn't some reinforcement against us, it won't protect you, I figure I could bust it down with the tip of my foot. Now I don’t think your neighbours would quite like that disturbance this early in the morning hm?” Bucky’s voice is muffled by your door, but you can tell he's stepped closer, his lips pressed into the crack between the door and your hallway wall.

“Am I right doll?” Bucky reiterates, his voice deepening a dangerous octave, the kind that probably gets him what he wants, no questions asked.

Your eyes travel to your apartment door, the paint chipping off the sides of the wooden frame, dust falls to the bottom as Bucky taps his foot against it, chuckling at the pitiful sound it makes in return.

Yeah, your door is practically a pillow against them.

You cough loudly as you attempt to form a reply, the words getting caught up in your throat

“Yes, I'm coming, just, just don’t break down my door please” You finally let out, you hope to god you sounded the least bit content, but as you fumble with the door handle you know there remains a tremor in your voice.

One last swift turn does it, and you open your door swiftly.

They is a short moment that passes, where they both seize you up again as if you'd changed from those days before. Bucky eyes wander behind your shoulder, practically scrutinising the contents of your home.

“For your information, this door has withstood a grade A snow storm,” You say, your hand resting on the corner of your door,

Bucky flashes you a sickening grin, his canines shining against the morning light. The man beside him is just as tall, only a mere few centimetres below Bucky, his suit stretches against the expansive muscle of his chest and shoulder, and with the veins running up his arm you don't doubt that he could quite literally crash you with his bare hands.

His stance is domineering, and his short black hair makes him look infinitely more lethal. He looks the picture of the men who work for your husband, and occupy the hallways of your home at all times, however, there is one defining difference. His eyes. Even whilst they are a deep earthy brown the kind shadowed by trees and left in the darkness of the underground, they are soulful.

They carry a hidden kindness, even if they may be muddled by violence and bloodshed, it is still there. The sliver of humanity that separates Sam from the thousands of men you've encountered, those men of your husbands whose fox eyes watched your every move, surveying you, scrutinising you as if to find a reason to hunt you down. 

You never found peace in that home, for your every move was watched by cameras and hundreds of pairs of scrutinising eyes that were bought with money that was caked in blood.

‘Do you want another minute to judge my apartment or can you shove me into the boot of your Mercedes already” You sigh, grabbing your bag, and throwing in your phone and a jacket.

“Your lead, and for your information, it's a Maserati” Sam chuckles edging closer so he whispers it into your ear. A shiver runs down your back and you fix your shoulder, locking the door behind you as you walk down the concrete steps that crumble beneath your feet.

Sliding into the backseat, you don't notice the way their eyes linger on you, watching you from the review mirror as your gaze travels across your apartment and neighbourhood, the kids are still playing some game of ball, the basketball aged and torn apart from its frequent use, the old man at the bottom of the stairs is resting on an armchair, smoking a cigarette you've told him countless times will contribute to his death.

You bid them farewell, as Bucky turns out of the parking lot, the pine trees towering at the edge of the road blur a green and brown as you let the scenery around you consume you. This side of the city can be beautiful when it wants to be, when the morning dew hasn't yet fully melted, and the blanket of security covers you just for that moment.

You don't like to, but it reminds you of your childhood strangely, the trees and the way the sunlight shines through the branches. You don’t quite know why, it presses into the edges of your mind, like half-memories, like a big chunk of your mind has been cut open and taken out. There's a searing pain whenever your mind travels to those years before, a white-hot burn whenever you think too hard about it. So you don't. You close your eyes and rest your head against the leather seat, with two pairs of eyes watching you the whole ride.

-- -

Your body moves along with the twists and turns of the route Bucky follows almost mechanically, Sam had gone into a rather long phone call, the cell phone perched between his head and shoulder.

The terrain has changed from the concrete skyscrapers of Brooklyn, venturing into the natural scenic roads separating the buzz and hum of the city that was always alive. You hadn't travelled or even explored much since your settlement in Brooklyn, so much of where Bucky was taking you was unknown to you, you would’ve liked it, you think. If you weren't on the run and had notches of your past scorched into your back. Maybe in another life, you would've spent your twenties backpacking across the states, an ocean blue van that would be your home.

Now though, it takes everything to push the rising anxiety back down into your chest and not have a meltdown in the back of Bucky’s car.

As the smooth city roads turn into fragmented gravel paths you shift in your seat, edging closer to the window, your eyes watch the world around you evolving into the nature that once replaced New York, Bucky almost senses your wonderment, and quietly pulls the window down an inch or two. The scent of sea foam and wet dirt waft through your hair as you breathe it in, you reach out with a hand, letting the soft wind from Bucky’s press of the accelerate twirl and glide between your fingers.

You catch a pair of eyes watching you closely, but before you can look up they’re looking away, back to doing what they once were before.

The speed of the car begins to slow down, and Bucky turns into a dirt road surrounded by forest trees. A sense of unease fills you before Bucky drives up to a clearance, the shrubbery and foliage clear up to some sort of national park.  A long lake snakes around the rocky mountains, hidden behind the same deep brown trees towering over the sides of the road.

There is a car park towards the front, in which Bucky pulls into and parks swiftly, your gaze travels across the park, a wooden sign at the front is carved with the name of the clearing, some founder or explorer you had probably learned in 8th grade but is forgotten at the back of your mind. A map is attached below, along with the phone number of the park ranger closest. Triangle-shaped yellow signs warn hikers of the habitual animals that roam the parkland, and you smile as a figure of walking ducklings urge drivers to be wary.

There are a few cars parked around Bucky’s; a large red minivan with aged and peeling bumper stickers attached to the back, a dark black jeep, and a small sedan with one of those stick figure family stickers at the back.

You don't wait for Bucky or Sam before opening the door, the crunch of your sneakers against the gravel path.

“Wait a sec” Calls Bucky, you look behind your shoulder to find him rummaging in the backseat of the car, before shutting it and jogging up to you.

“Sam’s gotta finish up with something” Bucky explains as you catch Sam half smile as he continues with the phone call. You and Bucky must seem out of place, him with his perfectly tailored suit and you with your lazy Sunday outfit you pulled from your laundry.

Bucky leads you both to a park bench, and as you being to settle down Sam pops up, sitting across and joining Bucky, shooting you a quick apology.

“So, since you've agreed with this... arrangement, we've got to set out some ground rules and finalise a few things” Bucky begins, taking out a few papers with typed-out paragraphs of jargon you probably wouldn't understand.

“Do I need a lawyer..?” You ask as you eye the printed documents sitting across from you.

“It's all a formality, Steve.. he uh, he likes to be professional with his dealings is what I can say” Sam chuckles, crossing his head

“In exchange for your voluntary participation and the provision of sensitive and confidential information, Steve will provide you with fully serviced protection and surveillance of oneself and accommodation. Basically, me and Buck will come around each day to check everything is in order, and one of our men with be stationed at your apartment” Sam continues, nodding towards the documents before you.

“So ill be followed everywhere,” You reply, you had just escaped a life of constant surveillance and control, and right now it just felt like you were taking two steps back.

“I know what it sounds like, but most of our men are more friendly and less..well, automatic and mechanical. Steve only really trusts us, so you'll be seeing us more often than some random guy with a gun” Bucky says, smoothing down his suit pants.

Steve only really trusts us

You don't know why but your heart fumbles at Bucky's inclination that Steve cared about who was around you, your comfortableness, your satisfaction. It seemed so wrong after years of negligence to truly be cared after.

The loud sound of a dog barking causes you to tense just a fraction, your eyes flinch and you shift nervously in your seat. Get your shit together dammit, it was just a husky running beside its owner, the park never said it was free of dogs, but you can't help but stare at its blubbery open mouth, spit hanging from its sharpened teeth and a look of pure animalistic instinct in its eyes.

Stop, this isn't like the ones he keeps. Stop. overreacting.

It seems as if the dog sparked some sort of realisation that you were not in the safety of your apartment or in your workplace diner, that you were in a space occupied by the public in which anyone, even your husband could enter.

The more they talk, the more you itch with the anxiety bubbling in your chest, the bench under you is hard and itchy, you don't like it, and the sun has risen high into the sky, beating down on you. You try to keep up with them, head fuzzy as you nod after their every word, they glance at each other after a while of your scattering mind.

Both Sam and Bucky notice your uneasiness and the way your eyes dart around the nature park. Years in this life taught them how to read someone easily, and right now, you were practically crawling out of your skin.

You just, weren't used to being so out in the open, you feared you were running out with a printed target on your back saying “Shoot Me”. In the darkness of your apartment at least you felt somewhat safe, here, where you didn't know where you could hide, or if there even was somewhere to hide, the expanse of shrubbery and forest trees looked domineering, like they tower over you and swallow you whole, you didn't feel safe. In fact, you felt like it was open fucking season.

They'd picked an open space out in public, so you dint feel boxed in or isolated, a chance to feel a sense of normalcy whilst discussing deals with the mafia, huh, what a fucking joke. You keep readjusting your necklace, and they keep looking at you with that unreadable expression on their faces.

“You alright doll?” Sam replies, you can’t focus on him, the lines of his features blurring a little from the pounding headache that has begun to radiate from your temple

You nod and try focusing on the soft sounds of the nature park, the calls and whistles of native birds and the currying sounds of animals burrowing in their habitats. You know it does nothing, but you try and sink yourself into the false security of it.

Sam nods awkwardly back, he glances at Bucky and an unreadable conversation passes between them before Sam collects the papers you don’t remember signing.

“I think that’s enough business talk for a bit” Sam glances at his watch, muttering an obscenity under his breath.

“How about we drive you back home so can spend the rest of your day without having to deal with us, huh?” Sam replies trying to lighten the mood that has gone still with your curt answers.

You nod, itching to get home and under the covers, or under the heat of your shower to wash off the sludge of unease and anxiety coating your skin.

Bucky quietly watches you, and you throw him an always smile as you get up from the bench, tugging your sleeve down.

A moment passes with Bucky watching you closely before he smiles in return, but it’s one that mirrors yours, insincere and masking true emotions.

This time Sam opens the front passenger door for you, and you slide in quickly, shoving your bag at your feet and clicking the seat belt on. Bucky leaves the window down for you and you shut your eyes and let the warm wind settle the nerves that seemed to remain in your stomach.

— -

Bucky pulls out of your apartment complex, despite almost hitting a young boy running after a beat-up soccer ball.

He hadn’t pulled out until he had been sure you were safe and secured in your apartment, walking in and checking the place for any intruders despite your objections.

God, he never understood it, why you hated the idea of anyone helping you. Most women in this life demanded constant and immediate attention, hell he’d seen his own mother not lift a finger his entire life, raised by the many nannies and maids that had been employed at his family’s estate.

You though, helping you was like pulling teeth. It added to the hundreds of other questions Bucky had about you that Steve refused to answer, like why you had run away from a life he thought was full of luxury and opulence, or why Steve was so adamant in him and Sam to watch over you. 

Steve had never really involved himself in these types of business arrangements, but this one, it seemed as if Steve would commit murder if he found out you were left alone with one of his dispensable.

Bucky reaches for his phone left in the car’s compartment, fingers dailing Steve's phone as his other hand rests on the steering wheel. It rings twice before he picks up.

“Yeah?” Steve's gruff voice resounds against the echo of the basement he’s in, and Bucky has already gathered that he is deep within the monster that consumes him and enables him to rest on the throne of New York.

Bucky coughs a reply

“Hey, uh, we just finished up with her-”

“What’s the problem, something happen?” Steve’s voice replies in urgency, a sliver of concern in his tone that doesn't go unnoticed by them both.

“No, nothings wrong, we just-, well she-, Steve, I think you outta talk to her again, she's agreed and everything but she is, she’s on edge. I have a feeling she doesn't think you can protect her” Bucky finally lets out, the expansive nightlife of New York flashes past against the tinted windows of the car as Bucky follows the twists and turns to home.

“I mean she was practically clawing out of her body being in a goddamn park, Steve. A park. I figured she needs you to talk to her a little, and reassure her because, without her confidence in whatever this is, it all goes to shit. It’ll all fall down” Bucky says.

There is a beat of silence before Steve replies.

“Okay. I'll take the night off, tell everyone I'm off fucking.. somewhere. Back at the club.

“Alright,” Bucky replies before Steve ends the call abruptly. Sam glances at Bucky, sighing out loudly in the car before sinking into the leather seat.

“I have a feeling this will be the beginning of something that will be the end of us” Mutters Sam, but Bucky hears it all the same. And he can’t help it, but it all rings true. You will be the death of him.

The clench of Steve's jaw tightens as he slides his phone into his back pocket, rolling up his sleeves, Steve waste no time before striking the man bound to the chair across the face. Stringing blood and pieces of bone are scattered across the dingy basement floor, the burning lightbulb above them is the only thing that gives the light in the damp room, and it only adds to the sinister maliciousness that radiates from Steve.

He’s already dealing with an uncooperative subject, and the unexpected call from Bucky didn't quite ease the tension beginning to appear on his shoulders.

“Tell me,” Steve says, both his hands resting on either side of the armchair the man, a look of boredom crowds Steve’s face, his features unreadable as always as he stares down the snitch

“No” The spits it out along with flecks of blooded spit, and Steve chuckles, wiping away the blood splattered on his cheek before calmly replying

“You are nothing, your loyalty is that of a drop in the ocean, you don't think they won't cut your tongue and throw you in the Hudson with concrete feet for even getting caught by my men? Face it, you're a snitch, a rat- Steve pauses to spit to the ground- “and you and I both know the destiny a man like that has. Now do yourself a favour of a quick death and answer me, why is Matthews trying to free up the eastern docs?”

“Maybe he’s gathered a change of heart, it is the season to be generous no?” Chuckles the man, he smiles with his teeth covered in. blood, and Steve's grip presses into the armchair.

“You think this is a fucking joke? When has Matthews ever been generous, there has always been an endgame to every single move he does, what's the endgame to a fucking peace keep? Huh?”

“Look, I told you what I know, Matthews is trying to look as stable as possible, especially since he's begun to slip through the cracks, you know what they say right? That his little wife has gone running away? That sweet thing managed to slip past the biggest army in Northern America” The man replies, laughing manically.

Steve grunts at the mention of your name that passes through this animal’s mouth, how fucking dare he. He knows he shouldn't, he knows he needs to reign it in but all he hears is your name muttered from chipped golden teeth and he swings.

The savagery in the way Steve beats the man does not go unnoticed by the men around him, they watch on, as the crunch of bone and flesh fill the quiet basement, and the groaned pleas of the man are muffled by Steve's iron fists, his jaw collapsing in on itself as Steve throws his body to the ground with an obscene shout.

Steve had sometimes forgotten, how he has that formidable creature within him clawing its way out each time he steps out his front door, how he lets it consume him whenever he thinks of Matthews, and in a way; you.

“Clean this shit up, I don't ever want to see this fucking rat in New York ever again”. Steve growls towards the man around him, reaching for his keys and swiftly exciting from the cryptic warehouse on the edge of New York’s industrial area.

-- -

He doesn't quite know how he found himself outside your apartment, nor how fast he got there, but the thought is pushed to the side when you open your door suddenly. Wear eyes watching his staggering frame against your door frame, and all you have to do is nod before he’s entering your home.

“I thought Sam this morning would be the last I’d see of your men” You reply as you reach for two beers stacked away in your fridge. You weren't really a drinker, and you don't doubt they were stale.

“I said my men, I never said me” Steve chuckles, accepting the cold beverage you hand him appreciatively as he eases himself onto your small dining table in the corner of your room.

He practically swallows the entire place, his knees bubbing against the table as he awkwardly arranges himself on the too-small chair beside you. You hide your chuckle behind the neck of your beer bottle that you knock back down your throat.

A silence that is surprisingly comfortable falls over the both of you as you silently sip your beer bottles, and you find yourself reaching for another before ungracefully slumping your tired body into your wooden dining chair.

Steve catches the deep set bags under your eyes and the way your back practically hunched over as you rub a hand across your face

“Can’t sleep?” Steve murmurs, you look up as you catch his gaze which softens momentarily. Shaking your head you chuckle pitifully.

“That would be an understatement, more like can’t even shut my eyes” You scoff, before knocking back another sip of your beer.

“With this thing, we've arranged, hopefully, you’ll be able to” Steve replies, shifting in his seat as he looks towards you.

“If only it was that easy. Unless someone can enter into my brain and shut it off for a full 8 hours, I won't be getting any shut-eye” You smile wrily, before running a hand down your face, shaking your head.

“It’s fine, it's alright, ill- ill figure something out. It isn't like I haven't dealt with a few nights without sleep ya know? I don't even know why I'm telling you all this, you probably could care less” You reply with a finality that has Steve looking at you with that same strange expression you can't decipher.

Just as he begins to say something, Steve thinks better of it, simply shaking his head

“It’s alright, you're talking to an insomniac veteran over here, god knows I've burnt some eye-sized holes in my ceiling”

You can't help but let out a laugh, a real one, and the sound of it makes Steve’s heart collapse in on itself. Without even a moment  Steve already knows it's his favourite thing in this entire world, he wants to keep it, bottle it and keep it behind the white of his ribs and the coldness of his heart.

“Can I just ask you something?” You say suddenly,

He nods, giving you permission.

“Why do you want to do this? and tell me the real reason, not some false one you’ve made up.

“Honestly?”

It’s your turn to nod now,

“It’s selfish and cruel but I want to finally own something /make something of myself. This may come as a shock to you but I wasn’t always this fierce and formidable” you roll your eyes comically.

“I spent much of my years just wandering aimlessly, working jobs for other people, my loyalty was tied to one person and one person only. Myself.

“Seems like a tough way to live” you reply. You got it, something over came you when you got the keys to your first apartment. The first thing you actually owned since that bicycle you spend afternoons mowing lawns for. Selling lemonade for.

“You know, this deal, this arrangement-everything, means nothing if you can’t put your trust in it,” Steve says, running his hand down the neck of his beer bottle, letting the wet droplets fall down his fingers.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, silently, eyes looking up through the horizon of the beer bottle

“Do you trust me to protect you?” Steve asks again, as he rests his back against the wooden chair, an expectant expression on his face.

Do you? Everything in your mind is screaming at you to say no and run away, to hide back into the dark corner you’ve made a home out of, but as your gaze travels towards Steve, with those golden locs and cerulean blues, your heart murmurs with a familiar longing that you can’t ignore.

“Yea, strangely Steve, I do”. You reply with a look of pure candour on your face.

Your gaze travels to his hand gripping the neck of the brown bottle, and it is only then that you notice the tattered and bleeding skin of his knuckles. Steve catches your concerned gaze, eyebrows furrowing at the bruising beginning to form.

“It's nothing, just a little hands-on approach to a situation” Steve replies, shifting in his seat, but his excuse does nothing to quell the burn in your stomach.

“I know I have a first aid kit somewhere here” You murmur, rummaging through your kitchen cabinets as you peruse the tattered and peeling shelves and drawers.

“It's alright, doll, I'll get it patched up later-” Steve tries to argue, getting up from his seat, but you jolt up suddenly from your crouched position, a faded red first aid kit in your palm.

“Got it” You smile triumphantly, you rest yourself against the kitchen counter across from Steve, and Steve can say nothing as you raise your eyebrows, almost taunting him to protest against it.

“You’ve got men stationed outside my apartment, fixing up a few bleeding knuckles is the least I can do” You interject, moving towards him.

“Besides, if you're bleeding out on my living room floor, who else will be there to protect this” -you gesture your hands around the apartment- “Sanctuary?” Your question, a small smile softening your features and that's all it takes before Steve is conceating, following your footsteps to the small bathroom.

It's fitted with a peeling sink cabinet, toilet and a ceramic bathtub cramped into the corner, the low yellow light attached to the ceiling gives the room a sickly feel and Steve has to bend down onto the edge of the bathtub so you can reach him.

Pulling his blooded sleeves up, the reality of the damage on his hands can be inspected, the skin around his knuckles has peeled off completely, and splotches of dried and et blood seep from the wound.

As you take his hands into your palm softly, Steve grunts under his breath, not because of the pain radiating from his knuckles but because your fingers are so soft against the rough pads of his fingers.

You whisper an apology he waves off before ripping open an alcohol wipe, pressing it gently against his knuckles, making sure to clean off the grime and dirt stuck between his fingers.

The smell of blood that begins to permeate the air is one that is familiar, years of drunken nights had taught you how to patch up bruised cheeks and split stitches. Nights when your husband was so deep in his hunger for power and greed that he had thought you were here to take his kingdom from right under him. You knew what liquor could do to a man, but your husband to put it lightly, has always been and always will be, a mean drunk.

You feel a pair of eyes burning into you, and you look up to catch his intense stare watching over your every move, you have to look away after a moment, focus on the tap tap tap of the loose bathroom sink.

You take the small bandaged adhesives, and place them over his bruising knuckles, before covering them with bandaging cloth. You follow the same motions you had been forced to learn over the years to his other fist, feathering the cloth in and out between his fingers.

“How do you know how to do this?” Steve murmurs under his breath, his intense blues boring into your soul, as you look up from his bandaged knuckles.

“I was quite an adventurous kid, spent a good chunk of my childhood with my dad kneeling over me, patching up cuts and bruises” It is almost automatic, the way the well-practised lie slips from your lips, it leaves your mouth without a second thought.

Steve blinks at your reply, the blank expression covering his features is now taken over by his darkened eyes, his jaw tenses against his teeth and from the way his shoulders raise, you know there are a hundred things running through his mind. His fingers flex painfully in your grip, wrist rolled into a tight fist.

“Hey! Don’t go ruining my handiwork” You chastise him, flexing out his finger so they lay flat against your palm.

“We’ve all got history..right?” You smile, before his gaze travels across your features, nodding in a grimace.

“Some more than others” Steve replies, his left eye flinching as he catches the fading bruises peeking through your sleeves.

“Thank you,” Steve says, motioning to your fingers gripping his bandaged knuckles.

“It’s the least I could do I mean-” You begin before Steve cuts you off momentarily

“Hey, no, thank you really, you didn't have to, but you did” Steve's domineering voice crowds the small bathroom and you have to look down at your laced hands to let them out of your grip.

“I’ll leave you alone now, and I mean it this time,” Steve says, following you out of the bathroom.

“So I shouldn't be expecting any more nightly visits from men with guns at my door?” You question with a smile, as Steve shoulders his suit jacket on carefully, so as to not ruin your bandages.

“No, not tonight, if you see or hear anything or anyone, call me,” Steve replies, his voice deepening into a level of seriousness that gives you no choice but to listen.

“I mean it, you've got my cell, as well as Sam and Bucky’s, and I am an insomniac, so don’t have me second guessing alright?” Steve's baritone voice takes up the entire room, and all you can do is nod fervently.

You follow the loud footsteps of Steve's dress shoes down the short narrow hallway that leads to the front door, opening with one swift turn, Steve turns back to you swiftly.

“Don’t let mind cave in on itself, burying yourself in your thoughts only leaves you with a fatigue that doesn’t wear off and a bed that runs cold” Steve murmurs, a look casts a shadow over his eyes as his gaze trails over your tired features. But it leaves as soon as it comes and you find yourself still staring at that same spot on the carpet after he’s shut the door and left.

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@tinkerbelle67 @patzammit @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory@stupendouslovegardener @nomadstucky @nessie2183 @shamelessfangirl-3  @marvel-phoenix @euphoric-goddess @roseeatta​ @@wolfieeebbbyyy​ @namelesssav  @nessie2183

[buckyalpine]

18 + That is your warning so stop reading. Imagine being an absolute slut for your bodyguard Bucky even though your very much so dating Steve.

"You're thinking about him, aren't you" Steve snarled, picking up his pace while you hiccupped, "You filthy fuckin' slut, you worked up and down on his cock didn't you, I'm the only one who gets to fuck you like this"

“But I love riding his dick daddy” You wailed while bouncing on Steve's cock, biting you lip, your eyes rolling back thinking about how Bucky stretched you open like a whore, splitting you in half. "I wan Bucky's cock" You sobbed, sounding needier than ever and it made Steve leak.

"Fuck sugar, that right? You're that much of a desperate slut, you want my best friends cock?"

"Uh-huh" you nodded, nearly going cross eyed, making an utter mess all over the dark blond curls at the base of Steve's cock. He didn't stop his harsh thrusts as the door clicked open, your body guard striding into the office, his cock already rock hard.

"Hey pretty girl" Bucky cooed, smirking at how cockdrunk you were while he rounded he corner of the desk to where you were splayed across Steve's lap where he sat in his office chair. He traced your pouty bottom lip before slipping his thumb into your mouth, humming in satisfaction at the way you sucked it, moaning around the metal digit.

"Go on, finish what I started" Steve nodded while you squeaked as Bucky picked up you up effortlessly off of Steve's cock, and tossing you over his shoulder.

"Need my cock, huh Bambi, that all?" Bucky's wide palm rubbed your sore ass where Steve had spanked you, turning over to place a quick kiss onto the hot skin before laying you down on the table. You let out a needy moan at the sound of his belt hitting the floor, so deep in subby space, spreading your legs extra wide as he pulled his pants down just enough to free his cock.

"Look at that, such a good girl, spreading her legs for me" Bucky leaned over to take a good look at you, your dazed expression and wiggling hips making his balls impossibly heavy. "Wanna show Steve how well you take my cock baby? Show him how I make you moan and cum, n'how I play with that cute little button between your legs?"

"Mph, Bucky please" You whined, pouting at the disappointed tsk Bucky made.

"That's not what you call me Bambi, c'mon, whose cock do you want, say it"

"Fuck me, Sergeant-OH-MY-GODD" You cried out as Bucky slammed into you, setting in a brutal pace without waring, your body bouncing against the desk as he gripped onto your hips.

"That's-it-good girl-good. fucking. girl" Bucky snarled through gritted teeth, slamming your body down onto his cock, his head thrown back, moving one hand to wrap around your neck. He was too enamored with you to notice the way Steve's hand was wrapped around his cock, working his swollen, silky tip, watching his pretty princess take his best friend like her life depended on it.

Bucky spat right onto your clit, rubbing tight circles around you with a feral look on his face feeling you squeeze around him, bending your thighs up till they hit your chest, hitting a deeper angle.

"Feel that? M'so deep in your pussy baby, s'fuckin' deep, can feel your little clit throbbing, it's all swollen huh Bambi, you're soaking my cock, make a mess all over it princess, it's all yours"

"Sergeant-gonna-I-" You couldn't forumalte words, tears streaming down your face and falling onto the desk under you, the band in your belly ready to snap-

"You gonna cum for my best friend babygirl?" Steve's focus was locked in at where Bucky was connected to you, watching his cock slam in and out of your tight cunt, stretching you wide open, his own cock growing impossibly harder, "Fuck, you're a dirty slut, I'm gonna-fuck m'cumming" Steve's voice was breathless, his chest heaving as he worked his cock faster, eyes rolling back as white streams of cream decorated his black shirt, nearly shooting to his beard. "Holy shit"

"BUCKY M'CU-UMINGG" You wailed, your back arching off the table, screaming with every muscle in your body pulled taught. You couldn't tell where your orgasm began or where it ended, unending waves of pleasure drowning you while Bucky began to chase his own.

"Cum for your Sergeant baby, that's it, such a good girl, you make my cock so hard Bambi, y'feel so good, not gonna last, shittt-HNG" Bucky let out a guttural moan, not giving a fuck that Steve was right there, pumping you full of his cum until his balls were empty and his cock was soft. He tucked himself back in his pants before removing his shirt to wipe you down and picking you up, letting you wrap yourself around him like a koala. Your boyfriend followed closely behind, smirking at the needy noise you made, checking to see that Steve was also coming for some post sex naps, sighing contently when you saw him following near by.

"Off to bed, Bambi"

[jesevans]

Ooh, Steve wears rings 😏

How about a moodboard for mob!Steve and his fainting accountant? Thank you ❤️🙏🏻

Here's ya be

[natashadied4oursins]

My Writing

I don't have many fics posted, but here's what I've got. If you enjoy them, please like and comment!

My AO3

Adults only, and please read Trigger Warnings!

Leverage

Dark Eliot: The World We Live In (Eliot Spencer x fem!OC)

Marvel

Nice Like That (Steve Rogers x fem!OC/reader)

Not Sexting (Bucky Barnes x fem!OC/reader)

The Boyfriend Package (Bucky Barnes x fem!OC)

[sunflowersoldat]

All is Fair in~ Wounds & Woes

Chapter 20: Wounds & Woes

Previous Chapter

Main Master List

Series Master List

Series Summary: Family is important, but so is the Family business. Everyone has secrets, some are deadly. Your the best in the business, but no one knows who you are. Tensions are high, will you raise the stakes or fold under the pressure?

Series Warning: 18+! Mentions of blood and violence, bad language words, smut, manipulation, gaslighting, death, trauma, please follow the warnings for each chapter.

Chapter warnings: 18+ Only! Emotional trauma, Bad language words, mentions of death and physical trauma, nightmares.

Pairing: Mob!Steve x Assassin!Stark!reader

Word count: 4.2K

A/N: It feels like I haven't posted in years, even though its only been like a week, if even. The Holiday season really fucks me up... as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always welcome! Anyhow, enjoy!💕

You must have been out of your damn mind bringing him into the lion’s den. After everything the two of you had been through, you should have left him with his people. They would surely hunt you down. Especially if Barnes was running things in Steve’s disappearance, and as Steve’s second in command, you knew he would be.

You shouldered your way into a separate part of the casino; a safe house if you will, an entire miniature apartment. You shared a floor with the others, but you knew they weren't home.

You hadn’t used your safe house in over a year when you decided to retire. You hadn’t needed to use it, but most of the time it felt more like home than your actual house near the museum, nonetheless, you slipped your keycard from your pocket, nudged open the door then kicked it shut when you finally stumbled through with Steve.

Making your way into your room, you gently lay him on your bed, wincing when pain shot through your side, your hands stained red, along with Steve’s shirt. Panic threatened to take control, but your instincts went into overdrive, you reached for your side, a bullet had grazed you, but not deep enough to cause this amount of blood. The realization had you tearing open his shirt, a deep bullet wound sat right above his hip, pouring blood. You tore through the rest of his shirt, using the fabric to apply pressure and stop the blood flow, you needed the med kit you kept in the other room. You dared a glance at his face, the color had drained, leaving him unnaturally pale, his skin sticky with sweat.

A sudden knock on the door ripped you from your panic.

“Death?” Wade’s voice pierced through your skull.

“Wade! In here, hurry!”

You heard the door unlock and slam open, followed by Wade’s swift footsteps, you turned to him as he slid to a stop in the doorway, his face falling as he took in the room. 

He doesn’t think, he just moves, gently taking your place on the bed and applying pressure to Steve’s wound.

“Focus kid. Get the medkit, we need to stop the bleeding.”

You stare wide-eyed at the man bleeding on your bed, dread seeping into your bones; this couldn’t be it, after everything you had been through—

When you don’t move Wade turns to you quickly, his hand meeting your cheek with a loud crack. Snapping out of your trance you glare at him, “Do you want to die?!”

“No, but he will if you don’t focus. Medkit. Now!”

His words crash over you sending you into motion, you hurry from the room, slamming into the bathroom door, scrambling to find your medkit. When your fingers finally wrap around the thick military-grade box, a wave of relief crashes through you but is crushed when you enter your room again to see Steve even paler than before. 

You take a deep breath and focus, he needs you. You shut your emotions down, letting Wraith/Death take over. You move like a machine, going through the motions of cleaning the wound, a sliver of the weight lifts from your shoulders as you and Wade realize, it was a clean shot. When the two of you are satisfied with ensuring the wound won't get infected, you help Wade stitch the wound closed.

Steve is still deathly pale, the pit in your stomach gapes open as the wall you threw up breaks back down, what if he lost too much blood and this was all for nothing? What if you lose him anyway? What if you never get to properly apologize and tell him you—

“Death.” Wade's firm voice rips you out of your thoughts, his tone tells you this isn’t the first time he has spoken your name, “Do you know his blood type? He needs a transfusion.”

You numbly shake your head, “A hospital, we should take him to…” you swallow thickly, your eyes darting back to Steve’s unconscious form on the bed.

“There’s no time for that…” Wade breaks off, scowling, “I’ll be right back, watch him.”

You reach after him, but he is too quick, there one second then gone the next. Before you can move he is back, a bag of blood tucked under his arm to warm it. He pulls it out, nailing it to the wall, before placing a needle into Steve’s arm.

You cock your head, eyes flickering from the door Wade came through to the blood, to Wade, then back to the blood, “Where did you get that?” 

“My room.” His answer is so calm, and nonchalant like it was normal for them to have bags of blood in their rooms. He continues as if you aren��t staring at him in utter confusion, “We really need to talk to the boss about having a stockpile in case of emergencies…” he turns back to you, raising his brows, “What?”

You scrunch your face, “What do you mean what? You just pulled a bag of O-negative blood from under your couch cushion? And you expect me to not be dumbfounded?”

He purses his lips, “Like that is the most absurd thing I’ve brought out of there…”

Frowning you raise your brow, before nodding, he isn’t wrong, Wade’s apartment is off limits, solely because no one knows what is in there. One time you were walking by as he closed the door, and you could swear he had a rainbow unicorn onesie on a mannequin, riding a rocket. And you're ninety-nine percent sure there was a full-grown alligator chilling on his couch two weeks later.

Wade sighed as he stood, stretching, “Well, my work here is done, consider that my apology for having to bossnap him…” he grimaced, “Think he’ll forgive me?”

You stifled a laugh as if he really cared… Wade left the room heading for your apartment door, “Put in a good word for me dearie…” your door clicked shut, leaving you alone with an unconscious Steve, who was still quite pale.

You looked back at Steve lying on your bed, before plopping into the chair next to him, you will get up in a couple of minutes to shower and fix your wound, the medkit lay discarded on the bed, within reach, but for now, you just want to watch over him. The color is slowly creeping back into his cheeks, his chest rising and falling in a more steady rhythm. His face and body were covered in wounds and bruises, your brother had done a number on him before you arrived; it was nothing compared to what Steve’s men had done to you, but it was enough. Leaning over him, you brush the hair from his forehead, placing a soft kiss there, before settling back in the chair, your eyes drifting shut, despite your efforts to stay awake, sleep yanked you under.

—

A few hours earlier— 

Bucky’s mind was reeling, he didn’t understand how you were alive, but at this point, he didn’t care. There were too many coincidences where you were involved. You show back up in town the same night Peggy Carter dies, then you miraculously don’t die after he leaves you in the upper bay? That is a big red flag, a normal person wouldn’t have been able to survive half the shit he did to you that night, yet you were standing in Steve’s office mere minutes ago. That was a major red flag, they had just been attacked by Tony’s men at the penthouse, you want Steve dead, and Tony wants Steve dead, why? Bucky couldn’t understand. All he knew was you were dangerous, and his best friend was blind to that danger, Bucky wouldn’t let Steve make the mistake of trusting you and losing his life because of it. 

You had almost outed him in front of Steve earlier, lapdog, who did you think you were, calling him such a thing. He had half a mind to go back into Steve’s office and talk some sense into the man, but he thought better of it, he knew Steve needed his space, needed to blow off steam. Hell, the minute the door closed he could hear glass shattering and all of the furniture clattering on the floor. If Steve hadn’t put a hole in the wall he would have been surprised.

Bucky descended the stairs into the main foyer, Sam and Peter were already making their way in from the kitchen, Peter’s mouth full from whatever dish Wanda had prepared for them. Bucky ran his hand through his hair as they approached,

“What the fuck was all the commotion? Was that gunfire?” Sam questioned as he took in Bucky’s agitated state.

He shook his head, “It was a misfire, don't worry about it.”

Peter piped up, raising a brow, “We heard yelling, a female’s voice…”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed on the two of them, “Listen, do the two of you have a problem or something you would like to ask? Because both of you have been on my ass for days now!” taking a deep breath, Bucky lowered his voice, “As I said, it was a misunderstanding between Steve and me, and a gun misfired. Period.” he gave them both a pointed look, before walking back towards his room.

“You killed Ace.” Peter’s voice was a knife’s edge slicing through the air. A pin-drop silence followed. It wasn't a question, but a statement, but Bucky could hear it in Peter’s voice, he wanted it to be false. He stiffened, not wanting to turn around, but not wanting to take another step away,

“That is quite the accusation, Queens.”

“Yet you don’t deny it. You killed her, even after Steve spared her life. You killed her. Why?! What gave you the right to take her from him?!”

Bucky turned to face Peter, his movements agonizingly slow, his face a hard mask of emotion, “She had all of you fooled.” his eyes flicked between Peter and Sam, his voice rising with each word, “She didn’t care about you! This was a job to her, another fucking hit, nothing more!”

The crowd in the foyer began to grow as Scott, Wanda and Barton joined to see what was happening. Sam stepped between the two of them, his hands raised, “Easy Buck, just calm down, and tell us what happened…”

“I don’t owe any of you an explanation! I did what I had to do to keep Steve safe, as his second in command! He trusts me to keep him safe! —”

The lights in the mansion flickered out, leaving them all in pitch darkness, the front doors exploded open, the ground shaking as gunfire broke through the air, followed by the cacophony of men yelling orders. 

Instantly Bucky bolted for the stairs, he had to make it to Steve…

He was cut short when a hand grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around, “Hello Barnesy…” Bucky knew that voice, but he couldn’t place it, “Hey! Don’t you dare touch the kid, tie him up, and put him to the side, if a single hair on his head is misplaced, I’ll kill you myself!” The figure turned back to Bucky, his hot breath puffing in his face, “Sorry Buckaroo, where were we? Oh yes, Death isn’t one for revenge, but I am…”

All Bucky feels is pain, his consciousness slips from him, as his assailant laughs.

Later– 

There you were again, outside of Stark tower with Steve, broken and bloody from whatever you and your brother had done to him. You were probably taking him with you to finish him off and get paid for finishing the job. His blood boiled, and he ignored Sam and Peter next to him screaming as he aimed for your head. Peter slammed into him as he pulled the trigger, Bucky watched it hit its mark on your vest instead, momentarily knocking you off balance. Then you were on your bike and gone from their reach. 

He turned to Peter, seething, but the little shit stood tall against him, he wasn't afraid of Bucky… 

Bucky furrowed his brow, taking a deep breath, Queens didn’t need to be afraid of him, he was his brother, not his enemy. Shaking his head he threw the pistol into the passenger seat as he settled behind the wheel, “Get back in the car, we need to regroup…”

—

The two of you were on the roof, your gaze meeting his, so much pain swam in those beautiful eyes, and his heart stuttered in his chest. “Do you trust me?”

He couldn’t help the reply that drunkenly left his lips, “I used to…”

He watched your heart shatter at that moment, but your reply was swift, full of conviction, “It’s time I earned it back…”

The next moments were a blur, you shoving him backward, the air rushing from his lungs as he began to freefall, then your warmth surrounding him. He felt the hard asphalt under his feet, and the screeching of tires pierced his ears.  Followed by yelling—

Bang

The memory has Steve jolting awake, his body involuntarily convulsing, a fire erupting in his abdomen searing through the rest of his body. Grimacing, he stifled a groan, his eyes peeled open, the room he’s in isn't one he recognizes, but the sleeping form in the chair next to him he does. You had fallen asleep next to him, the medkit he assumes you used to patch him lay discarded on the bed at his feet, your head hanging uncomfortably on the back of the chair. You hadn’t even taken off your uniform, his eyes began to droop again, sleep slowly pulling him back under as his eyes landed on the blood that coats your hands, from the stitched wound on his abdomen, he knew it was his own.

—

Blood. There was so much blood, you couldn’t find the wound it was coming from. It coated your hands, it was covering the floor, thick pools of crimson blood. It rained down onto your skin, dying your hair and mask, it seeped from the walls. 

And in the middle of it, all laying in a pile were the ones you couldn’t bear to lose, eyes glazed over, all the color drained from their faces. You dropped to your knees in front of them, your tears mixing with the thick liquid as you reached for them with a trembling hand. 

A hand shot out of the pile with breakneck speed, wrapping around your wrist, their vacant eyes pleading, their mouths agape with words unsaid—

You jerked awake, eyes flying open, limbs stiff, neck aching from the unnatural position you had fallen asleep in. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest as you straighten in the chair, your gaze finding Steve still lying in your bed, the color is mostly back in his cheeks, the bag of blood no longer nailed to the wall, Wade must’ve come in to check on him after you passed out. 

You rise from the chair for only a moment, heading into the kitchen you grab a glass, and one of your bottles of vodka. The wound on your side is still biting at you, an annoying reminder to stitch and clean it before infection sets in.

As you entered the room again, your eyes locked on his, he was tense against the headboard, eyes fixed on you. Not on you, no they were glued to the weapons strapped to your body, and the obvious bullet hole in the middle of your kevlar vest.

He had seen you like this before, in your uniform, but you could tell it still stunned him.

“Do you usually sleep in that?” his voice wrapped around you like a brisk autumn breeze, as you discarded your gloves, pouring yourself a drink, your brow creasing. When you didn't respond he continued, “Or is it only when you need to make a clean break?”

Oh…oh. Shit, you reached up to your eyes and face, gently removing the contacts, and mask, you give him a small shrug, “Sometimes I forget I have it on…” your eyes traveled his body, and though he was no longer restrained, he kept himself still, until your mask and contacts were discarded, you noticed his body finally relax.

“Steve… Listen I–”

“I didn’t kill Howard and Maria.” the words left his mouth in a whisper so soft you almost missed it.

Your shoulders sagged, dropping his gaze, “I…I know…” you leaned forward, gathering the antiseptic and towels from the bed, “Tony didn’t hire me to kill you…”

“I know… he told me.”

You paused, but he continued, “I mean not blatantly. We had met at a restaurant, and threatened each other, I told him he shouldn't have sent you to kill me if he didn't want you hurt…” you locked gazes again, his beautiful ocean eyes so full of sorrow and pain, “He didn’t even know you were an Ace?” his voice wavered on the last part.

You shook your head, your gaze again dropping to your hands, where you mindlessly pulled at one of the loose strings. “No. No one knew… well except you… and your men.”

Swinging his legs off the bed he scooted closer, a grimace pulling his face tight as he pointed to the hole in your vest, where your heart would be, “I never thought your brother would actually shoot at you…”

You batted his hand away, huffing, “Neither did I, but that isn't from Tony…” you gesture to the bullet hole, “it’s your men’s third attempt at killing me.”

His face pales further, the only color on his beautiful face is the full brown beard that now adorns it, “Third? What were the first and second?” His voice was raspy and strained as if he were trying to force the words to the surface, like the thought of you dying pained him.

You couldn't help the laugh that clawed its way out of your throat as you searched his face, but when he stares at you full of confusion you elaborate, “Steve, the basement? You tortured me, I was this–” you gesture with your fingers only millimeters away from each other, “close to bleeding out. Then, you send Bucky to strap cement boots to my feet and throw me in…” you trail off, the rest of the sentence no longer important because he is looking at you like he did that night in the warehouse; heartbroken and full of disbelief. 

Your face falls, the anger you held toward him slowly melting away, “You didn’t know…” 

He shakes his head numbly, tears lining his eyes, the color finally rising to his cheeks, “I heard the jab about him being my lapdog at the mansion, but I hadn’t realized…” his jaw clenches, “Believe me, Angel,” the use of your pet name stirs something in your chest, “I never sent him to kill you…” his fingers trace up your vest and you hold your breath, “Did he do this too?”

You look at his hand, gently tracing the spot on your chest, then slowly raise your eyes to his, letting out the breath you were holding. The nod you give him is barely discernible, but he sees it.

“There will be consequences for his actions.”

One corner of your lips tilts upwards, “It’s not entirely his fault… I may have threatened to kill you–”

“It doesn't matter, he almost succeeded in killing you. He disobeyed my wishes, he will be dealt with.”

A lump began to form in your throat, “According to the world, he succeeded. Besides, if it hadn’t been him, it would have been another one of your men. Like Ronin, he would kill me on sight—”

Steve shook his head, “No, Barton follows orders, he is good at his job, and efficient at retrieving information, but he knows his place. If he would have seen you, he would have known I kept you alive for a reason…”

Your brows shot up, “Oh? There was a method to the madness? A reason for my suffering?”

“Angel,” Steve's voice lowered, “you attempted to kill me, I had to find out why… Taking you to your brother’s was the only way to keep you safe—”

Your lip trembled, “From who?! You? Did you really think it mattered?!”

His jaw clenched tightly, “I spared your life.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, couldn’t stop the scoff that left your mouth, “You condemned me! You tortured me within an inch of my life! Then sentenced me to live in a gilded cage!” you shoved up from the chair, the force causing it to clatter onto the ground behind you.

“Don’t act like you have no blame for how this turned out.”

“Excuse me?! I was doing my job! Not all of us have the luxury of choice! You chose to do all those things to me, chose to keep me alive as punishment.”

He rose to his feet, his hulking frame towering over you, even injured he was the embodiment of power.

 “Punishment?! I didn’t keep you alive for punishment! I could have done worse things. After what you did…” his face fell, his eyes clouding as his hand raked through his hair, “You lied to me Angel, played me for a fool.”

He stepped closer to you, crowding you against the wall, your blood roaring in your ears, your body felt too hot, his breath puffing in your face, “You betrayed me, Angel. In the worst way possible.”

“Then why not kill me.” you spat the words, like bile on your tongue.

He growls “Because I fucking love you!” his hand slams against the wall next to your head, the impact reverberating in the room, his chest is heaving now, “I know I shouldn’t. I can’t, but I do.”

His shoulders sag as he pulls away from you. Turning he walks towards the bed, shaking his head, “I can’t get you out of my head… I kept you alive because I couldn’t bear killing you. I know it doesn’t make what I did better, what I allowed Barton and Bucky to do to you is unforgivable…” he pauses, his voice now barely above a whisper, “I have hated myself every day for even letting them lay a finger on you. I was angry. It isn’t an excuse, I know that.”

You swallowed thickly, his back was toward you, but you could see the light tremble in his shoulders, the sharp intake of breath.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Your apology was genuine, you hadn’t meant to hurt him in that way, everything had gotten so out of hand…

Steve sighs loudly, “I wish I could believe that, I really do, but I don’t. After all the lies, I can’t trust a word you say. I can’t trust you.”

His words sting, but you understand, if you were in his position, you wouldn’t trust you either, but you won’t accept defeat, you can’t. You’ve come this far, you’ve been beaten, shot at, and lost everything you ever worked for. Because you thought he was worth it. Pushing off the wall you stalk around him, you are toe-to-toe with him now, your hands trembling as you reach up to caress his cheek. 

He stiffened at your initial touch, before closing his eyes and relaxing into your palm. Thumb lightly brushing his plump lips, “I don’t think you understand,” you whispered, your other hand sliding around his neck as you rose onto your toes, “I would never kill you…” you brushed your nose against his, “if I had to choose my life or yours, I’d give mine in a heartbeat.” You breathed against his lips before crushing your lips to his, as he stumbled backward, his back colliding with the wall. His mouth melded with yours, you could feel the fight within him, he wanted to pull away, but couldn’t. The familiar taste of bourbon and mint filled your senses. Breaking the kiss, you scrunch your brows, and tears begin to stream slowly down your cheeks, “Steve, I would burn the whole world down to keep you safe.”

He only allowed you a moment of control before he had you flipped, your back hitting the wall, breath leaving your lungs. The two of your hands held in only one of his, his other hand lightly brushing the tears from your face. His voice was low and menacing, sending a shiver up your spine and your stomach doing flips, “Such beautiful promises mean nothing when they fall from a forked tongue that has told more lies than truth.”

Your eyes searched his sapphire ones, he was trying and failing to hide behind his anger and hurt, you could read him like an open book. He wanted to crumble to give you his heart and soul until there was nothing left of him, and so did you, you wanted it so badly you couldn’t breathe. His name left your mouth in a broken plea, no violence would break you, no amount of torture or broken bones, but him.

This beautifully broken man in front of you would be your undoing, “Tell me one,” he took a shaky breath, “tell me one truth.”

You released a breath you weren’t aware you were holding, “I love you.”

@dontbescaredtosingalong @texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @justlovelifeblog @austynparksandpizza @captainson-of-coul @betareader7 @vicmc624 @bigphattygyal @calwitch @buckysteveloki-me @curlyladylazarus111 @talesofadragon