#mob!clint

[jtargaryen18]

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 32

Part 32: The Rising

Series Masterlist

Words: 8k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mafia, reference to violence and violent acts, references to sexual violence. Strong language. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing Steve was aware of was the softness of her touch. The delicate stroke of her fingertips dancing nervously over his forearm, his hand. Slowly, the scent of her perfume invaded his senses that were just beginning to return. It was a comfort in the sea of perfect darkness all around him.

Knowing his wife was alive, at his side, was everything to him.

Her teardrop on his skin made his heart squeeze in his chest. The low sound of her crying in the quiet of the room. He tried in vain to open his eyes, to move his hand. To speak. None of his commands were answered so he could comfort her.

But he was here now. That was something, right? That he was awake? Aware?

Steve needed to get back to her and his life in the worst way.

“Steve,” you whispered, leaning closer to him. “I’m so tired… “

Steve knew she probably couldn’t sleep under the circumstances. He had no idea how long he’d been out of the loop. Now he was coming back to life, restless. All he really wanted to do was hold her, watch over her while she slept.

And while he held her safe and sound, he’d begin planning his takedown of fucking Barnes.

The press of her lips against his pulled him out of his thoughts. Another hot tear dotted his cheek. Her sadness had him trying in vain to move, to let her know he was there. He was with her.

She was so strong, his beautiful wife. She’d been wounded and without him, she was alone. Afraid. Did Barnes or the other families know what happened? Were they all in any danger from Barnes? Or Hansen?

She carefully climbed onto the bed to lie next to him. It made him happy to have her so close, warm at his side. All he could do was to be there with her.

“Steve, you have to come back to me,” she said with tears in her voice, a fear he’d never heard from her bleeding onto her tone. “So far, most of them haven’t figured it out… That you’re out of commission.”

No one knew? Had Dyson told her that?

Her fingers danced over his chest, his heart. She was careful to keep her weight off him, but he wanted it. He wanted the warm press of her body against his. It felt so good to have her there, so close.

And she wanted him back. She loved him. She told him she loved him before she left for Hansen’s that fateful day.

“He figured it out,” she said, sniffling. “He knew it wasn’t you who did…”

Who figured it out? Figured what out?

Steve’s sluggish heart sped up at that, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“We haven’t heard anything yet,” she whispered. “I don’t think he’s dead. If he were, I feel like we would have heard something by now.”

Who was dead? Dread pushed him to fight harder to get back to the surface.

A soft sob from her had fear battling heartache in his chest. Why did she sound so broken? What had happened? How long had he been out?

“I couldn’t even do it when the time came,” she whispered. “I’m so ashamed, Steve. I was right there, sitting next to him on the bench. He had no idea who I really was. He had no idea why he was really there.”

Who? Steve would have screamed it if he could have. What couldn’t she do? His fears escalated as he waited for her to continue.

“I really hope we killed him, Steve,” she said quietly. “I don’t think we did though. Yelena said the poison would do damage, could shut down his vital organs… But we would have fucking heard something by now, right? If Barnes really died?”

Steve was trapped in his body, in the darkness, with growing fear. She’d confronted Barnes? Tried to kill him with poison? Poison Belova gave her?

Belova was supposed to be cast out of his household.

Anger pushed against fear then. He’d thrown Belova out because she got in his wife’s head, encouraged her rebellious behavior. She was supposed to protect his wife, not lead her into danger.

“You’ve got to wake up,” she begged him. “Please... We struck back at Barnes. To protect this family. To protect your position… But if he wakes up… He suspects all the things we’ve done were me, not you. He called me an evil bitch…” Her laugh was bitter, choked out by tears. “If he’s still alive, he knows the truth. It’s only a matter of time, Steve, until he comes after us. After me. Please, for the love of God, you’ve got to wake up.”

What did they do? As much of a force as his wife was, particularly with Belova backing her, he couldn’t imagine that whatever danger they’d gotten was done without Dyson knowing about it.

As he understood it, they’d done something to Bucky. Poisoned him. They didn’t know the other man’s status. Was he dead? Alive? If he was still alive, it sounded like he’d be coming for them.

Coming for his wife.

“I knew I’d find you here.” Belova. The sound of a door closing.

His wife didn’t move. If nothing, she snuggled closer to him.

“Have you heard anything?” his wife asked.

“No, there’s no word,” Belova said. “And no news is good news.”

“I can’t take this anymore,” his wife said, her voice breaking. “Steve’s still out and every minute of every day I have to worry… We’re so vulnerable right now.”

“So is Barnes,” Belova told her.

“The other families have to be wondering what the hell is going on,” his wife said.

“There are questions,” Belova said. “There are rumors and stories. Very little of it is anywhere close to the truth.”

“Something’s got to give,” his wife said. “Barnes is either out of it like Steve or he’s biding his time. Waiting for the right moment to finish this.”

“You can’t dwell on this,” Belova’s voice was closer now. “Steve will come back to you.”

“Yes.” She sounded so small, unsure.

“And when he’s back, he’ll take it from there.”

“What do you mean?” his wife asked.

“We hit Barnes on a very personal level,” Belova explained. “That’s the way it’s done. Barnes may be just fine right now and carefully planning his next move. And he needs to think long and hard on whatever action he takes. The Starks are partial to the Rogers family. So are the Wilsons.”

“How many times is Dyson going to be able to hold them off when they call,” his wife wanted to know. “We don’t have much time left. If Steve would just wake up… He’s going to kill me.”

Steve wasn’t going to let it go. That was for damn sure.

Belova laughed softly as his wife fought back tears. “He may be proud of you. I am.”

Sniffling, his wife said, “If he’ll just wake up, I don’t care. He can keep me locked away for a year, whatever. I just need him to be okay. To come back to me.”

Steve couldn’t have heard that right. He was out of it. His wife could make any decision his men would allow. And for her, his men would allow quite a lot. And she was worried about him.

“He will,” Belova told her. “He loves you… But be ready. He’s going to be pissed when he finds out what’s been going on while he was out. Kicking me out again will probably be the first order he gives.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“No,” his wife said. “I won’t allow it. You are my personal protection. He agreed to that. And I can’t think of a time when I’ve needed protection more, right?”

A sigh. “Your husband may not see it that way.”

“I don’t care,” she said petulantly. “He can wake up and bitch at me about it. I’d love that. But you’re not going anywhere, Yelena. I need you.”

Steve again tried in vain to open his eyes, to speak. To move anything. Surely it was only a matter of time before he could, right? Now that he was aware, it wouldn’t be long. He had no idea how long he’d been like this, but it was past time he got back to his life. To his wife.

***

The next time Steve woke up, he was alone. He couldn’t hear anyone else in the room. Steve wished his wife was still there. He missed the warmth of her, the smell of her.

The chiming of his phone on his nightstand played again and he realized it woke him up. On the third chime, Steve reached for the phone and then his eyes flew open when he realized what he’d done. That he’d moved.

His eyes flew open. Tapping the screen, he answered the call, bringing his shaking hand with the device closer to his body so he didn’t drop it. Steve felt so weak.

“Yeah,” he muttered for an answer. His voice sounding as rough as a bad country road.

“There he is,” Tony Stark said with a smile in his voice. “I told Dyson if I didn’t talk to you today, I was coming over there. I asked him if you were too important to talk to me now.”

Steve snorted and it was an uglier sound than he expected from who knew how many days of disuse. “Too busy,” he managed.

“I guess, damn.” Tony laughed. “I have to admit, Barnes came in hot once the crown was on your head. I was getting worried about how you’d handle it all. How you’d handle Barnes.” Tony laughed again. “That was brutal.”

Oh, God. I don’t even know what they did…

“I know you were being… magnanimous before,” Tony went on. “I get that. But when you decide to deal with things, well…”

“Barnes had it coming,” Steve said, his voice a little stronger with each word. No matter what they’d been up to since he’d been out, Barnes deserved it. He had no doubt about that. “He left me no choice.”

“Hey, I’m not questioning you, big guy,” Tony told him. “Really, I’m not. Just curious when we were all going to collectively talk about how this is going to go. What’s going to happen to Barnes, stuff like that.”

Steve’s hand shook so badly, he passed the phone to his left hand. “Soon,” Steve told him. “We had some injuries.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, “about that. How are you? There are rumors flying around that you got shot or Dyson got shot. A couple even said your wife had been hit.”

His wife had been shot. And he’d been more terrified for her than himself in those moments after the shot fired. Steve had been fucking terrified, so terrified he hadn’t felt the bullet strike him at the time. But he was grateful. She hadn’t mentioned a thing about her injury or any effects from it. That was good. Maybe it meant she was on her way to fully healed.

“My wife was hit,” Steve said, fighting to speak as he normally did. “My top lieutenant was threatened. I can’t have that.”

“Absolutely,” Tony said, still sounding supportive. A tone designed to let Steve know where the Stark family stood in everything. Tony Stark had always been proactive. It was appreciated. “You needed to give the bastard something to think about.”

“I did,” Steve told him. “Do. I’ll be in touch very soon to call a meeting.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tony told him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Steve blew out an exhale, feeling tired from just the conversation. But damn it, he was awake now, and he needed to get back up to speed as quickly as possible. They were all likely still in some danger from Barnes, his family.

“I’ll let you know if I think of something,” Steve told him.

Ending the call, he dropped the phone onto the bed. The edges of his vision threatened him, fading to black. He broke out in a cold sweat, very much afraid if he blacked out now, he might get stuck again or worse.

Steve just had to face it. He needed to recover physically and there was nothing he could do to rush that.

And he needed to catch up. He needed to know what was done when. He’d have to accept responsibility for those actions to protect his family, his wife.

It was slow going and took a lot of effort but after several minutes, he was able to sit up, swing his legs over the side of the bed. His vision was dark around the edges, his breath came fast, and he broke out in a cold sweat from his efforts, but damn it, he did it.

***

You spun and moved through the Waltz of the Flowers, focusing on remembering the port de bras, the steps. You saw the ballet in New York during one of your secret trips and came home begging your instructor to help you learn anything from it. In that last year you lived in the home where you grew up, you’d worked hard to learn the small role from one of your favorite ballets. Oh, it wasn’t the Dewdrop Fairy, the leader fairy of the dance that no one seemed to even know existed. You were learning the dance of the supporting flowers from the classic story and that was good enough for you. That was plenty for you at the time.

Today, with everything preying on your mind, you’d gone back and watched the dance on YouTube first to remember all the steps. Anything to keep busy, to occupy your mind.

Was Steve coming back to you? You didn’t care if he really did beat your ass if he did. You’d take it. You just needed him back.

There you were in the studio Dyson helped you set up. There was still pain in your shoulder, but it was better each day. You had on your black leotard and tights. A fresh bandage covered your wound. It was chilly so you pulled an old sweatshirt for warmth before fitting into your pointe shoes.

You started the music with your phone and fell into those simple steps. The slower graceful dance of the flowers. And after the first minute or so, it all came back to you. The gentle spins, releve, plie. You didn’t imagine the dewdrop fairy you were supposed to be dancing around at first, not the other dancers. This dance was for you. A solo flower from a magical Christmas land far away.

A lone black flower from a funeral arrangement?

No. Shaking your head, you fought back tears and started the dance.

It was really the only thing that gave you any peace the last few days. Lost to the dance, the music took your mind off looking out the windows every few seconds to see if Barnes had shown up to kill you all yet. To kill you. Because you knew by now, he must really want to.

It also kept you from sitting by Steve’s bedside and crying for hours.

As much as you could remember, you moved through the steps of the dance. It wasn’t that good at first. But as you visualized it, worked through the dance in your mind, your dance got better, your movements more graceful as you moved. As you swept back to make room for the Dewdrop Fairy in your mind to come dancing back, you saw something in the corner of your eye. But as you came to a stop with the next step, you froze.

It was Steve, awake, looking washed out and weak as he leaned against the wall, watching you. He’d wrapped his bathrobe around himself, his feet were bare. The intensity of that blue-eyed expression took your breath away. He smiled as relief took you to your knees. All you could do was stare to see your husband was awake, finally. And you knew he was going to be pissed at you. So pissed. But you scrambled to your feet and sprinted for him, skidding to a stop when you realized you needed to be careful with him because of the wound, the stitches.

Wrapping your arms around his neck carefully, you couldn’t help but kiss him with tears spilling from the corners of your eyes.

Steve kissed you back with a ferocity that surprised you as weak as he must have been. You let him. You were just so happy he was awake. Alive. Sure, all hell could break loose any minute now within the prominent Boston crime families but Steve coming back to you was the most important thing. The only thing. Everything else, with his lips sliding against yours, seemed less important in that private moment.

Steve shook in your grasp as he kissed you. Concern had you breaking that. As much as you’d like to think it was from that passionate moment, you didn’t want him to pass out on you. Not when you just got him back.

He let you steer him towards one of the folding chairs you kept in the studio, mostly to set your items on. You swept it all out in the floor as you urged him to sit and carefully, he did. But his gaze never left you. The man was staring at you with something like… awe?

“You’re okay?” he asked carefully.

You nodded, pulling the loose neckline of the sweatshirt you wore to show him the bandage. “It doesn’t hurt much now. I’m just fine Steve. Thanks to you.”

“You’ll have a scar,” he warned.

“I don’t care,” you told him, swiping at the tears with your hands. “Steve, you took a bullet for me. Why did you do that? Why were you even there?”

His eyes were suspiciously glossy as he stared at you. “I decided about five minutes after you left that I couldn’t risk losing you. I needed to be there. To protect you. It’s even scarier to think if I hadn’t been there, I would have lost you.”

A chill ran up your spine to consider he was right.

“I think you’re really glad to see me,” he said, his voice rougher than usual. The half smile that formed on his lips had your heart racing in your chest.

“Of course I am,” you told him, not even trying to stop your tears. Your mind spun with what you needed to do. “How are you feeling? I should go get Dyson and have him call doc. Yeah, I—”

“In a minute,” he told you. His hand carefully capturing yours, stopping you before you could flee to do just that. “You told me you loved me before you left that day. Was that real? Or was that in case you didn’t see me again?”

Steve had to be able to hear your heart. It felt like it would pound out of your chest. “It was real.”

He kept looking at you like you were a ghost, an image in his mind. “I’ve never… I’ve never seen you dance before. You look beautiful.”

“You’re always busy,” you said with a smile, melting under that comment.

“Will you dance for me one day?” The softness of his voice when he asked that question had your heart squeezing in your chest. The sincerity threatened to break you.

All you could do was nod.

Tugging your hand, he urged you closer. His hands at your hips guided you to sit on his lap and you were careful.

 “We need to talk,” Steve said. “Just you and me for a moment.”

Oh, shit. Here we go.

You shook your head. “What’s more important than your health?”

“I need to know what’s happening,” Steve said slowly. That look he gave you. How long had he been up? Had he already talked to Dyson?

“Not a lot.” A huge lie. “We’ve all just been watching over you. Hoping you’d come back to us.”

“What’s happening?” he asked again. “What happened while I was out?”

You swallowed hard. Somehow Steve knew.

More tears. “Steve, what am I supposed to do? You just woke up and—”

“And?”

“When I tell you what happened, you’re not going to be happy.”

Steve huffed a laugh. “I’m sure.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you quietly started talking. You started with the aftermath of the shootout at Hansen’s house after the two of you had been shot. You told him Hansen was presumed dead but there was no proof.

Steve shook his head, telling you, “Hansen’s not dead.”

You told him Dyson had been roughed up but not badly harmed. Several of Barnes’ men had died. Clint had killed Banner and Hansen shot Neal in the face. You told him about the young woman who’d been taken from the donut shop on Steve’s turf and how she’d been found in Hansen’s house, kept as a sex slave. Steve had looked disgusted at that.

“What’s happened since that day?” Steve asked after a moment.

“Have you already talked to Dyson?” you asked nervously.

“No, but I heard you and Belova talk,” he admitted.

Shock would have had you jumping off his lap if he hadn’t kept you there. “What? You heard us?”

“I did,” Steve told you. “Not enough to know what’s going on. Enough to know you put yourself in danger with Barnes. Want to tell me about that?”

No.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Dyson exclaimed out of nowhere. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“I needed to get up,” Steve told him with a smile.

Dyson was as careful as you had been in hugging him. The happiness in the older man’s eyes was unmistakable as his gaze moved over him, assessing him.

“We need to get doc here to look at you,” Dyson told them.

“I need to talk to my wife first,” Steve countered, his grip on your firm.

“Yes, you do,” Dyson told him. “But after doc has looked at you. Then we’ll all talk because I think that would be best. There’s a lot you need to know.”

Words couldn’t express how much you loved Dyson at that moment.

Taking your hand and helping you stand, Dyson smiled. “Go call doc,” he bid you.

Nodding, relieved to get the doctor here and to have help in telling Steve that story, you pressed a kiss to your husband’s cheek and scrambled off to do that.

***

Steve watched you flee like you’d escaped the gallows. He let the tears come then. Pure relief ran through his veins. His wife was alive and recovering, crying over him.

Maybe she really does love me.

He hadn’t gotten to watch you dance long before you spotted him, and he regretted that. He could have watched that all day. He recognized the music from The Nutcracker Suite, but he couldn’t say which scene it was from.

But there his wife had been, all in black aside from the light pink shoes she wore. You might have been a shadow dancing, but your movements didn’t echo loneliness or sadness. Your movements were graceful but confident. It had been a stark reminder of so many years you’d been alone. It occurred to him now what you must have done with all that time your father left you in the care of servants.

You had a lot of time to listen and learn.

“Let’s get you back to bed,” Dyson told him, helping him up out of the chair.

To Steve’s dismay, he was weak as a kitten. He allowed Dyson to help him to his feet and walked with him towards his room. He had no intention of getting back in bed, however.

“No, I’m getting dressed,” Steve told him. “I want to have that talk and hear what had happened while I was… out. Soon as possible.”

Everything.

Once he was seated on the side of his bed, watching Dyson gathering a casual outfit for him, his mind took over.

“Why was she anywhere near Bucky Barnes?” Steve wanted to know.

Dyson paused for a beat but went about his tasks, not making eye contact.

“I didn’t like that part either, boss,” Dyson said. “But when we lay it out for you, maybe it will make more sense.”

“You were in on these plans?” Steve asked.

Dyson approached him now with his clothes, his gaze unwavering. “I was.”

“Where does our family stand right now?”

Dyson placed the clothes on the bed and regarded him calmly. “Your family is the head family, and you are its leader. None of that changed while you were out.”

Steve could only imagine what had to happen for Dyson to say that so confidently. “Why was my wife involved?”

Dyson still didn’t react. “Because like it or not, your wife is part of this family, son.”

Dyson hadn’t son’d him in many years.

“What did I say—”

“No, you’ll listen to me now,” Dyson cut him off. “After the situation Hansen put us in, we didn’t have a choice but to react as the lead family and you weren’t available to make decisions, so the task fell to us. Turns out the plan was Barnes’s. Taking me, taking your wife, all of it. Hansen just decided that he was going to take Mrs. Rogers for himself hence the betrayal.”

“I know,” Steve said. He remembered all that.

“And there were all these stories out on the street, see? Some of them were very close to the truth,” Dyson explained. “If you hadn’t fallen into a coma from blood loss, you’d have been calling those shots. Since you were unavailable…”

“You did it?” Steve accused. “And you involved my wife?”

Color darkened Dyson’s face in a rare display of frustration. “No, your wife stepped up. And you need to start paying attention because your marriage, your wife, has been the problem here ever since you took power.”

“You’re blaming my wife?” Steve couldn’t have heard that right.

“No, I’m blaming you.” Dyson was direct. “You married her, you took the crown. You should have flourished. You had everything you needed to rule. Everything you wanted. Her, her father’s backing, your family’s strength. Why do you think it didn’t work out, huh?”

“I wasn’t counting on Barnes to have such a problem with all of this. I knew—”

“No,” Dyson cut him off again. “Forget Barnes. This is all on you.”

“How do you figure?” Steve realized Dyson was pissed at him.

“If you hadn’t been so obsessed with your wife, you would have handled things,” Dyson explained. “You navigated her into this marriage – with her father’s blessing – and that should have been that. You get married to the old boss’s daughter to solidify your claim. She’s a beautiful young woman who will keep you on your toes. But no, that wasn’t good enough…”

“What the fuck are you getting at?” Steve asked. Was it brain fog keeping him from seeing what his mentor was getting at?

“Just what I said,” Dyson told him. “Your obsession with your wife is the fucking problem. It’s your blind spot and it always has been. If you hadn’t been so busy trying to control her, to mold her into what you thought she should be, you wouldn’t have been at odds with each other all these weeks.”

Maybe he had a point.

“If you hadn’t been at odds with your wife and fixated on that, you wouldn’t have come so close to losing that leadership position you wanted so badly. You wouldn’t have come so close to losing it all.”

Dyson got closer. Got in his face.

“You were also too blind or too stupid to realize that your wife has the instincts she does,” Dyson went on, meaning business. “She’s sharp. She reads people well. She’s a lot like her old man.”

Steve nodded. “I’m coming to realize that.”

“Good,” Dyson said. “Because we’re all going to talk about what happened while you were out. And she will be there. She earned her place at the table and you’re going to hear what she has to say.”

Steve nodded his acquiescence. Dyson wasn’t there when Steve brought his wife in to craft the plan to deal with Hansen. He’d been Hansen’s hostage.

No, Steve was very interested in what happened and what part she played in it. But as a husband, he was also slightly terrified of what he might hear. As a man in his position, he needed to figure out how to keep his wife and family out of harm’s way, to protect them.

Steve didn’t have the physical strength, at the moment, to fight any of them.

“Let’s get you in the shower,” Dyson told him, helping him off the bed.  

***

“Maybe I should sit this one out,” Yelena muttered as she walked with you to Steve’s study. “I can’t imagine he’s going to be happy I’m still here.”

You stopped, looking her in the eye. “No, you need to be here for this meeting. You’ve been at my side since I married into this situation and I’m not allowing him to send you away again.”

Slowly, she smiled. A flash of hope lit up her hazel eyes. “You’re ready for this, aren’t you?”

You nodded. Indeed, you were. While your husband had been comatose, you did what you thought was best for the family, guided by Steve’s own council. It was still a dangerous time and as far as you were concerned, all of you needed to be involved until Barnes was dealt with and Steve’s position was solidified once and for all.

“I need to know you have my back,” you told her.

“Always,” she said, meaning it.

“Then let’s get in here,” you told her. The two of you were the last to arrive.

You’d cleaned up, dressed in a simple black dress and cardigan set with silver piping. Maybe it was silly, but you’d always worn it when you were heading into the unknown. Your secret trips to New York City with your governess or those rare meetings with your father before you took care of him in his final days. With the stockings and glossy black heels, it felt like armor.

And as you met your husband’s gaze from where he sat behind his desk, you realized you needed armor. His gaze swept over you appreciatively as you sat in the chair directly in front of him and next to Dyson. He looked you over too. He smirked in what you thought was approval.

“I saved you a seat,” Scott smiled at Yelena, motioning to the chair next to him to your left.

Clint and Luca sat with them behind you. The room was unusually quiet. Steve nodded to Clint who got up to close the door to the office.

Steve’s gaze moved over everyone in the room, he took his time. He wore a crimson sweater with jeans. He looks so tired. Finally, his gaze stayed on Dyson.

“My wife told me most of what happened after we were shot,” Steve started. “I need to know what happened after that.”

Dyson looked to you, and you nodded. It was probably better that he start. Steve cocked a brow at the silent communication.

“It was pretty much Tuesday at the Okay fucking Corral,” Dyson told him. “It was all me and Yelena could do to get the two of you out. But Hansen didn’t wait for that. It was a hell of a shootout. Barnes lost several men, we lost some too. Not as many.”

“Your friends make it out?” Steve asked.

Dyson nodded. “And we were damn lucky they happened to be in town.”

You were indeed. You were especially grateful to Jensen.

“You got the two of us out,” Steve said. “Then?”

“Hansen and Clay faced off,” Dyson explained. “Hansen was hurt but he made it out. He ain’t dead. Barnes gets a hold of him, he might wish he were.”

You couldn’t imagine Hansen being afraid of anyone.

“We got everyone back,” Dyson went on. “Got doc over here… You lost a lot of blood and went to sleep on us. We had a lot to think about, boss. You have to realize that Barnes’ plan that night was meant to knock you off the throne. They set a trap for you. Neal and I were supposed to go confront Hansen and take him out. That was our plan. But Neal was working for Barnes.”

Dyson cut his gaze to you. “You never liked, Neal. You weren’t wrong.”

No, you weren’t. The bastard had been nothing but disrespectful to you and Yelena. He’d put you at odds with your own husband by telling him about the nurse’s visit. How happy he must have been when Steve locked you away as a punishment. Thinking about it now, maybe Neal did it on purpose. The fact that you were stuck there might have made it easier for Hansen or Barnes to get to you.

“Barnes plan was to use me to lure you out, boss,” Dyson said. “The plan was to take you off the board for good. Barnes was confident, all things considered, that Hansen could get it done with Neal’s help.”

You shivered thinking about it. Steve trusted Neal. He’d go to protect Dyson. It might have worked.

“Instead, Hansen decided to lure Mrs. Rogers out and he meant to take off with her,” Dyson explained.

“Where is Neal?” A muscle twitched at Steve’s jaw.

“He’s dead,” you said quietly. “Hansen shot him in the face.”

Steve met your gaze, shaking his head.

“And since then?” Steve asked. “What’s happened?”

Dyson glanced at you, at the others. “We had a situation. Barnes hit us hard, and you were in a coma. If anyone realized you were out of commission, we would be dead in the water. A response was expected. And a response was delivered.”

Steve nodded. “I guess you did. Tony called me and he sounded impressed… So, what happened?”

“We sent Barnes presents,” Dyson told him. “Paulina was the warning shot.”

“Paulina?” Steve asked.

That had your heart lurching and old jealousy rearing its ugly head. Paulina was Kat’s sister. Was Steve afraid Kat had been hurt?

“Yeah,” Dyson said. “She’s still around. We just put her in the hospital.”

Steve looked confused but didn’t say anything.

“Kat appreciated Barnes taking care of the bill,” Dyson said. “She brought him a thank you gift. We sent him a gift too in the same bag. He got a five-finger discount.”

That blue-eyed gaze cut to you and back.

“Neal was his eyes and ears in this house for too long,” Dyson went on. “We took those and made a special treat for him. A tiramisu from his favorite restaurant.”

Your stomach clenched just thinking about that. You couldn’t imagine finding human ears and eyes in your dessert.

“And the grand finale was all heart,” Dyson told Steve, turning to grin at Clint on that one.

Steve blew out an exhale and you just waited for the tirade to begin. You could tell his mind was going a mile a minute and you felt bad for him because his color was off, and he looked so tired.

“Belova was there at Hansen’s when I arrived,” Steve began. “I do remember telling her she’s out.” Scrubbing a hand over his beard, he shook his head. “And you all just let my wife be party to all this? Killing people? Eyes, ears, hearts? I don’t even understand why Paulina was involved in this.”

Had your beautiful bastard of a husband learned nothing from all this?

Dyson shot you a warning look, watching you shift in your seat. “We collectively—”

“Yelena,” you started, “is the only reason we’re all still here.”

A quick glance at her showed her staring at you in surprise.

“When you sent her away,” you went on, “which you had no right to do because if I remember correctly, her being my personal protection was your wedding present to me, Dyson knew the danger she’d be in on the street. His friends were in town, thank God they were, and she stayed with them while they were here. She’s the one who got us the intel on Banner. She called Clint and told him where to find him, hiding on Stark’s turf. I explained all of this to you that day. He didn’t say anything about killing Banner at the time because of Nat and how she’d take it. No one gave him the order to kill Banner, but he did. I’d like to think you’d do that if someone beat my ass the way he beat your sister.”

Steve looked alarmed. He was about to say something, but you beat him to the punch.

“If that chain of events hadn’t happened, that day would have been far worse, Steve,” you went on. “If Dyson’s friends hadn’t been here, the day would have been worse. We can’t ever let this family’s safety depend solely on luck ever again. That was too close.”

Shifting on your chair so you could look around the room at your family and dearest friends, you shook your head.

“Paulina?” you asked. “Yeah, maybe that was stooping to their level. Banner beat Nat more than once and all the while he was spying on us. Betraying you. Beating Paulina was Nat’s call. A sound beating with bruises that wouldn’t show. It’s a good first step in taking back her power.”

Clint met your gaze, nodded his approval.

“Who did it?” Steve asked.

“Oh, I knew you’d ask that,” you told him. “Does it make you feel better that it was Yelena who did the deed?”

You could just tell from the subtle shift in his expression that it did.

“We found the girl who worked in the donut shop locked in a room in Hansen’s house. He was keeping her there because she looks like me. You can’t imagine what that poor thing has been through.”

Now Steve really did look startled.

“And the rest?” You said to your husband. “Dyson didn’t want me to be a party to it either, no. And I didn’t order any hits if that’s what you’re worried about. The fingers in Kat’s shopping bag? They belonged to Hansen’s man who kidnapped that girl. He died in the shooting at Hansen’s house. He didn’t need those fingers anymore.”

Steve just stared at you now.

“The eyes and ears?” you went on. “Neal was already dead. Hansen killed him.”

“Who’s idea was that?” Steve managed to ask. “The tiramisu?”

Luca’s hand shot up. “Mine. I made it.”

That had you grinning.

“The heart was Banner’s,” you explained. “He was already dead too.”

The slightest flush of color darkened Steve’s face. “And what about Barnes? You want to tell me why you were anywhere near him? What were you and Belova doing there?”

There was no going back now.

“The house is being watched,” you explained. “Stark and Wilson called every single day. We were worried that someone was going to figure out what was going on here, that you were potentially done for.”

Dyson’s gaze on you was intense, the hurt still flashing in his eyes from that plan because he’d disagreed with it so vehemently.

“We tried to take Barnes out,” you explained watching disbelief bleed into his expression. “After everything he’s done to all of us, he deserves it, Steve.”

You were speaking forcefully while your husband listened with an expression that you were struggling to read.

“Barnes gave us the idea himself,” you went on. “He called the girl from the donut shop. He wanted to meet with her, to see if she knew anything that would help him find Hansen. We arranged the meeting. I went in her place. I wore a mask because some people still wear them from the pandemic, and he didn’t realize I wasn’t her. Not until the end…”

Steve leaned forward in his chair, angry now. “What the fuck did you do?”

“We poisoned him,” you shot back. “The blade was dipped in poison. If I hadn’t chickened out, Yelena wouldn’t have had to step in. The way it went apparently didn’t kill him, but it did some damage. It bought us some time. And now you’re awake.”

“Barnes will know something is up,” Steve countered. “He knows I’d never send you into a dangerous situation like that.”

“He does know. But he can’t prove it,” you said.

“He’s going to come for you,” Steve said, his ire fading.

“I know,” you said. You’d lived in fear of that each day that Steve was still asleep.

“He can’t tell anyone.” Steve huffed a dry laugh. “A mob boss stabbed by a woman?”

Yelena was trying not to grin at that. You couldn’t help but smile.

“I don’t want you to ever put yourself in a position like that ever again,” Steve said to you with uncharacteristic calm. “I want everyone else in this room to swear to me that you’ll never allow that to happen again. Break your word and you’ll pay for it.”

The other men in the room quickly murmured their agreement. Yelena remained silent, staring at her hands in her lap.

“Belova,” Steve said, drawing her attention. “You’re my wife’s chosen security. So that goes double for you. Where her security is concerned, my word is final. Not hers. You got it?”

Yelena cut her gaze to you before nodding and meeting his gaze. “Yes, boss.”

While you were happy Yelena was being allowed to stay, your concern rose. “Steve, you can’t just keep me locked away to keep me safe. Not now.”

Steve stared at you for a long moment and your heart raced while you waited. You could have heard a pin drop in the posh office.

“I won’t,” Steve told all of you. “You’ll be part of my council from this point on. You all worked together to make decisions to protect the family when I couldn’t. Do you all agree?”

The response to that question was much louder and positive. Dyson looked from Steve to you with so much pride.

“It’s done,” Steve said.

Steve had made you part of his council. Your mind was spinning.

“Thank you all,” Steve said, concluding the meeting. “Rest up today. Tomorrow, we start planning. Dyson, keep security elevated around the house for now.”

Dyson winked at you. “Yes, boss.”

Then Steve’s gaze met yours as you were about to stand. “Stay.”

You did. And it was so quiet when it was just the two of you left in his office.

“Like I told you earlier, I agreed to letting you go to Hansen’s that day, but I regretted it almost immediately. That’s why I came after you and all of it was a mistake. By now I’d like to think you realize that as head of the family, head of all the families, why I have to be careful where I go. I’m not a soldier anymore. Sometimes I forget that.”

When he put it that way, yes, you did understand. “But it was Dyson.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But if I’d had my head on straight, they wouldn’t have been able to get to him. That’s on me.”

Had everything that happened rattled Steve that much? Was this accountability?

“And I get why you felt like you should be able to go meet Barnes after that. I’d allowed you into my business, sent you to Hansen’s. That’s on me too.”

What?

“Steve, we’re married. Doesn’t that make it our business?” you asked carefully.

“Maybe so… It’s just…  I’ll never be able to get the memory of you jumping in front of Dyson out of my head,” Steve said, eyes shiny with tears. “I’m willing to try this, to make you part of my council. I’m not completely sold on the idea but Dyson and the rest of them respect you enough to follow your orders.”

“You doubted it before because I’m a woman?”

“No, I doubted it because I’m selfish,” Steve said. “And afraid. Dyson’s right, you have good instincts. You knew more about what was going on in my house in a few weeks than I ever have... My father was like that, gave me good advice.”

Tears stung the backs of your eyes as you listened to your husband.

“Your father was a mentor to me too the last year of his life,” Steve went on. “He knew more than my old man. Dyson and Luca seem to think you’re a lot like him. Maybe they’re right.”

“Steve—”

“Let me get this out,” Steve told you. “I’m used to having enemies. I’m not used to having enemies that want my wife as much or more than ending my sorry ass. Twice now you’ve been seriously threatened. How am I going to lead the families when I can’t protect my own fucking wife?”

He was blinking back tears and you dashed around it to get to him, to wrap your arms around him. He again pulled you into his lap, holding onto you like you were a rant in the storm. When he finally got himself under control, that blue-eyed gaze was back on you.

“If you want in on this business, I agree,” Steve told you. “Under the condition that you stay out of the action. Is that in any way unclear?”

At least he wasn’t asking you to swear to him. Because that wasn’t something you would swear never to do again. If someone you loved was in danger, of course you’d be in the action. Still, you nodded.

But then you thought of something. “You’re not going to agree to this and take it away from me the moment I get pregnant, are you?”

That pulled the corners of his mouth up. “I will want to. But I doubt I’d have any luck in trying that.”

“You wouldn’t,” you assured him.

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” Steve said, his arms tightening around you. “We probably shouldn’t be in a hurry to start a family… With all this going on? We’ve got time. If and when we both agree we want to start a family, we’ll revisit it then.”

You’d been braced for a fight. You couldn’t have been more astonished by what you were hearing.

“Are you feeling okay?” you finally had to ask.

That had Steve chuckling. “Yes, I’m fine. Just hoping I recover quickly because those heels make your legs look so fucking sexy.”

Okay, that was something he’d say.

His fingers tracing your leg from ankle to thigh made you shiver. Slowly, his touch skimmed up your body, over one breast and up to your jaw. Slowly, he leaned in to kiss your mouth. A slow seeking kiss that promised so much.

“You will make me a better leader,” he whispered against your lips.

“You already are a good leader, Steve,” you told him. “Maybe it was because all we did was fight all the time. Maybe it’s just that your attention was divided.”

You could have laughed at the sliver of hope creeping into his expression. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you told him before kissing him breathless.

@valsworldofcreativity @21stcenturywitchcraft @coconutqueen21 @bval-1 @caffiend-queen @sadlittlecountess @candy-and-writing @capsicle-shield @chaoticfiretaconerd @chrisevansgirl @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @coldmuffinbanditshoe @daughterofthenight117 @hv-chw3 @iheartsebstan @imanuglywombat @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @justrae9903 @lokislastlove @mariaenchanted @maxwelllee2020 @nekoannie-chan @nerdwholikesword @notyourtypicalrose @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @peaceinourtime82 @rainbowkisses31 @rayofdawnworld @richonne4life @rissysthoughts-blog @saiyanprincessswanie @scarletsoldier21-blog @shygirl-00 @supernaturaldean67 @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @team-iron-wannabe-man @titty-teetee @tonib666 @villanellev @vitamingummies @what-is-your-plan-today @what-is-your-wish @xoxabs88xox @rosalynshields @naturalthrone22 @marvelovernfan @gotnofucks @eralen @kawairinrin @bluemusickid @geminievans1 @daughterofthenight117 @sunmoonandbuckyrecs @jesevans @kandis-mom @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @kmc1989 @curiousandjoyous @marvelouslyme96

[abbatoirablaze]

Deal With The Devil Master List

The five boroughs in New York City are run by the five families.

Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Thor Odinson, Clint Barton, and the most dangerous of all, Steve Rogers.

But that's just where the story begins.

With Steve Rogers. The loud-mouthed kid who's charming, witty, and beyond manipulative.

He knows just how to get what he wants. And after hearing about the newest reason that the boroughs are up in arms, he wants his cut.

Inez Stark.

No one knew that Tony had a younger sister, That is, not until someone from his inner circle let it slip.

Peter's out, because he's Pepper's cousin.

And with Steve, Thor, and Clint all vying for the chance to get into the alliance between Peter and Tony, they all want her hand in marriage.

Only, Tony knows that.

He also knows that he can't protect his baby sister anymore. He has to make a deal with the devil.

Too bad Steve's number 2, Bucky Barnes fell in love with her first.

Chapters

The Hobbit

Negotiations

Expectations

Fiances

The Bachelor Party

Like A Dog

What Family Is For

Know Your Place

Blindfolded

Cuck

The Meaning Behind 'I Do'

Sex On The Beach, And Blitzed On A Binge

Say You Will

Please Stay

[pedroacrossthestreet]

“I’m Pedro and I play Clint The Mob Enforcer in Freaky Tales”

[wbtym-pod]

S1E9 - Oops All Fanfictions is live! This is a recording of our community fan fiction reading event and it is...an experience.

WBTYM is not liable for your therapy costs after this episode.

You can find all the fics we read in this public post from our Patreon: shorturl.at/eGPY0

…but for most of them, I'm not sure why you'd want to.

[reckless-rider]

So sorry to my followers it might happen again <3

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

boo! surprise bitches! i'm doing kinktober this year! finally doing it! bet you didn't see that one coming, did you hehe 🕸

there is a good mix of both short and long stories coming your way throughout this (and i will also still occasionally post other fics this month that aren't related to this). also, a handful of these fics are darker in nature, thought it was fitting for halloween, so remember to read the warnings, if there's something that's not for you then please, as always, be kind to yourself and don't read the story.

masterlist | join my taglist

day one | sore

stepbro!sirius black x cheerleader!reader + dubcon massage

day two | don't smile

steve rogers + throat fucking + size kink

day three | stuffed

devil!eddie munson & angel!steve harrington + tentecles + double penetration in one hole

day four | a little fashion show

best friend!stiles stilinski + lingerie

day five | stay still

peter parker + bondage

day six | hold up, let me record this

jj maybank + tittyfucking + sextape

day seven | the palace guards

guards!poly!marauders x princess!reader + secrets relationship

day eight | it’s practically like we’re down there with them

mob boss!bucky barnes + exhibitionism

day nine | keep that pretty mouth shut

tommy shelby + keep quiet quickie

day ten | I couldn’t find it in me to wake you

poe dameron + somno thigh fucking

day eleven | I just want you a little longer all to myself

matt murdock + secret office sex

day twelve | nothing more than a toy

rafe cameron + using you like a toy to masturbate with

day thirteen | I still got a few rounds left in me

boxer!steve rogers + bathtub sex

day fourteen | open your fucking mouth

dark!wild west cowboy!joel miller + gun kink

day fifteen | tiny

miguel o'hara x fairy!reader + extreme size difference

day sixteen | the wall between us

cult member!steve harrington + fem glory hole + breeding

day seventeen | be a rebel, be bad, stay here and cuddle with me

spencer reid + aftercare

day eighteen | pleasant pile of pillows

brother's best friend!james potter + pillow humping

day nineteen | ring ring

sam winchester x reader x bf!dean winchester + phone sex + cheating

day twenty | window

perv!neighbour!billy russo + voyeurism

day twenty-one | say yes

fiancé!bruce wayne + possessiveness

day twenty-two | i can think of something better than that

bucky barnes + anal

day twenty-three | double check

dark!professor!ben solo + power imbalance + manipulation

day twenty-four | maroon

vampire!remus lupin + biting + blood kink

day twenty-five | i want you

pirate captain!miguel o'hara + sex as payment

day twenty-six | teamwork

pro football team!avengers (bf!steve rogers, bucky barnes, pietro maximoff, clint barton, sam wilson, tony stark, thor odinson) + gangbang

day twenty-seven | my little flower

din djarin + fantasy au + cockwarming

day twenty-eight | hysteria

doctor!aleksander morozova x hysteria patient!reader + historical au + fuck machine

day twenty-nine | can't fight the moonlight

werewolf!bucky barnes x gf!reader + predator/prey + monsterfucking

day thirty | magical mimic

eddie munson x witch!reader + magical mutual masturbation

day thirty-one | you can’t put it in

stepbro!peter parker + halloween pussyjob

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 5 - Better

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Hi! I'm sorry this took so long, work has been kicking my bum lately and I haven't had much writing time. But it's here - the final part! I hope you like it. Thanks to everyone who has reblogged/commented/engaged with this story - it means so much. Thank-you!!

💔

One week later…

You were cleaning tables when you glanced at the diner’s clock and realised it was almost 9am. Friday was here once again…

…Would he be in as usual?

It was raining heavily outside, throughout the early shift your regulars had rushed in and shaken the sogginess off their coats and umbrellas once they were safely over the threshold of the diner. You’d chatted with them, commiserating with them about ‘this damn weather’ and promising to warm them up with coffee and breakfast.

You’d spent your time off this last week popping into the hospital to see Lou. He was doing well, making progress, but the road to recovery was long. He needed to make major adjustments to his lifestyle and potentially engage in physical therapy as they think he’d also had a small stroke. He got his personal mail delivered to the diner and asked you to open it and keep him updated with anything pressing. The medical bills you’d seen were already dizzying and his insurance only covered part of it, but you couldn’t bother him what that just yet – he didn’t need the stress on top of everything else. You’d figure it out. You always did.

Lou had made you acting manager to pick up the slack while he was gone. You were pulling extra hours, working overtime to ensure the ship remained afloat while the captain remained on the shore. It was tough, but you couldn’t deny you loved the buzz of being in charge – of keeping everything moving.

You hadn’t seen Bucky since that night at the hospital. He’d insisted on driving you home after you’d said goodbye to Lou, ignoring your protests that the subway was perfectly fine…

“The subway, doll? Fuck no. Not on my watch”.

You’d rolled your eyes, knowing you didn’t have the energy to fight him after the evening you’d had. He knew it too. You’d merely sighed and hopped into the back of his SUV as you gave him your new address, giving a little wave to Clint who was driving.

The two of you sat in the back in silence for the entire journey, you watched the city flying past you from the window and it felt strange that the outside world was just continuing around you like normal while yours had almost collapsed.

The car rolled to a stop in front of your building, and you turned to Bucky. He seemed to be studying you carefully, concern drawn across his features. Even after all this time and distance, the beauty of his face still took your breath away at times.

“Thank-you…for the ride. For dinner. For showing up…all of it,” you said softly.

He nodded stoically, “always. Look…no matter what happens between us, I’ll always show up for you if you need me. Any time, any place. And Lou is going to be just fine, alright?”

Almost instinctively you found your hand sliding across the leather of the seat towards him. He looked down as your hand moved to find his. You clasped your fingers around his metal digits, the cool sensation against your skin was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. They in turn wrapped around yours and the two of you sat holding hands for a short while. You didn’t speak or look at each other, just both existing in the moment and concentrating on the feeling of your hands entwined. You paused, wanting to say more – but unable to quite find the words.

Eventually you couldn’t bear the strange tension in the air. You gently withdrew your hand and cleared your throat as you shuffled across the seat towards the door.

“Well, thanks again. And for the ride, too”.

“Anytime. Nice building…” he peered out of the window at your apartment block.

“Ah yeah, thanks,” you said proudly.

“You doing okay, living there?” he asked quizzically in his Brooklyn-lilt, his brows furrowed.

“Mm…I mean, it’s not as fancy as your place,” you chuckled, “it’s kinda cramped and small, but it’s cosy and warm. And it’s mine,” you told him with fondness.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “My place was yours too, you know”.

You chewed on your lip, you hadn’t intended it as a slight against him. “I-I know Buck…but…you know what I meant”.

He nodded reluctantly. “Yeah…that’s good. I’m pleased for you, really”. His nose crinkled as he looked at you fondly. It was a little mannerism of his that you’d missed.

You shared a small smile before getting out of the car and heading inside. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to look back at the car, a storm of emotions fighting to escape you. Your fatigue mixed with your anxieties about Lou, confusion about this sudden shift with Bucky now swelling. You could tell from the quiet behind you that the car hadn’t pulled away yet, no doubt waiting until you were safely off the street. You put your key in the door and quickly moved inside.

That was last week. You hadn’t spoken to him since, although you’d wondered if you should reach out. You thought he might’ve been in touch – a text, a call, but nothing. It was nice, he was leaving the ball in your court and not crowding you, respecting the boundaries you’d established. But part of you couldn’t shake the small sense of disappointment that lingered, too.

The fact was you couldn’t deny that something was stirring. Bucky, who you’d long written off and blacklisted for his betrayal, had started to be on your mind more and more. He had crept back into your brain.

You didn’t believe the old adage that time healed all wounds, but it had certainly helped. The space you’d had from him a year on from the incident had allowed you to find yourself again, the parts that you hadn’t realised you’d lost after diving headfirst into your relationship with Bucky. You still felt immense pain when you thought about what happened…but you also thought about how he had been true to his word. He hadn’t tried to force you back, not aggressively pursuing you or trying to talk you round. His weekly mornings at the diner had never felt pointed or manipulative. You believed that he was just happy to have you in his life, like he’d said. You’d since found your own place, started therapy and looked at your own issues, thrown yourself into work. Remembered who you were before you were ‘mob boss girlfriend’. You knew that what had happened with Bucky was not your fault, it wasn’t your job to reflect and change accordingly – that was all his. But still, having the space and time to work on yourself…it was refreshing. One small silver lining on this ugly, black cloud.

You’d also been on a few dates over the last few months. Nothing to write home about. A few nice guys, a few less than nice guys. Nothing had truly sparked for you; nobody had piqued your interest enough to want to really explore more than a few dinners or coffees. Maybe it was because of how things ended with Bucky, or you just hadn’t met someone right for you, or maybe you were just off dating altogether…But it wasn’t something you felt real enthusiasm for at this point. But that was okay. It had been fun to dip your toe back in the dating pool, and you weren’t averse to trying again when the moment was right, or you met the right person.

Unless of course, it was because someone else was on your mind.

Your slow burn friendship with Bucky had crept on you, taken you by surprise. The man who had once broken your heart now had a new place in your life. It was strange, but in some ways, you knew him better than you had when you were together. Despite your previous connection - your conversations had opened territory up you’d never covered together before, previously too caught up in passion and heat to dive as deeply as you had now.

And most importantly, he had shown up for you that night at the hospital, been there for you without you needing to ask. He had brought you dinner and stayed by your side without a word, because he knew you needed not to be alone – needed support. You were touched by his care for you, his willingness to clear his schedule for you at the drop of a hat. It meant a lot. It meant everything. He had intuited how you felt and acted immediately. He was there.

You didn’t know what it meant, if anything. Something had changed, the safe barrier of diner breakfast chats had been crossed. Part of you was panicking – no! Don’t let him get close, not again! Remember what he did! But another part of you had missed him deeply, longed to hold him again and wake up to him each morning. Your thoughts were a spiralling mass of contradictions and conflict, nothing made sense.

You weren’t sure if you could ever truly forgive him for what happened.

But could you try?

Roscoe snapped you out of your thoughts as he passed you the latest batch mail on his way by. You thanked him, flicking through the junk mail until your attention was caught by the hospital logo on one of the envelopes. You winced, tentatively ripping open the paper as you braced yourself for the latest bill.

You cursed under your breath as you unveiled the total figure, a stupid amount of money. You spiralled as it sank in, wondering if Lou would have to sell the diner in order to settle his debt. You knew he didn’t have anywhere near enough in his savings. You thought about all the jobs that could be at stake, including yours, and your heart ached most of all knowing that the restaurant was Lou’s baby. It would break him to give it up.

Maybe you could call them, sort out a payment plan…something?

You tried to calm yourself down, thinking about what your therapist would say about your immediate jump to the worst-case scenario. Relax. You can fix this. Remember your mindfulness exercises. Life would find a way.

The opening of the front door pulled you from your catastrophising. You glanced over, making eye contact with a rather damp Bucky as he entered the diner. He sighed, shaking the rain from his coat as he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“A lovely morning…” he muttered, deadpan.

You smiled, stuffing the hospital bill into your apron pocket and going to grab the coffee jug, “Morning, Buck. Get a little wet?”

“A little,” he gruffed, slotting himself into his usual booth.

You chuckled as you filled up his mug.

“How’s Lou?” he asked, shaking the rain from his hair.

“He’s doing better, thanks for asking. They’ve got a whole treatment plan worked out for him - so that’s positive”.

“Good. Glad to hear. You over here running the show while he’s out?”

“Something like that,” you smiled, then shuffled on your feet as you realised you needed to talk to him. “Bucky, I-”

A loud clatter and exclamation from the kitchen cut you off, causing you both to look over at the disturbance. You sighed with exasperation.

“Ah. Duty calls…I’ll put your order in while I’m in there”.

You rushed off to sort out whatever mess waited for you in the kitchen as Bucky smiled playfully at your annoyance.

He noticed something had fallen out of your apron as you dashed off. A piece of paper. He leaned over to pick it off the floor for you in case you needed it. Before he realised it was private and had a chance to look away, his eyes were immediately drawn to the monstrous sum at the bottom of the page. Ah. He grimaced as he quickly put two and two together, folding the paper neatly and leaving it on the table. He took a sip of his coffee.

You appeared a little while later with his order, sighing heavily as you placed the plate in front of him.

“Sorry about that…Roscoe and Ron were fighting about if the bacon was too crispy, and some trays got caught up in the carnage. Never a dull moment around here…”

You suddenly noticed the paper on the table, your words trailing off as your eyes locked onto it. You snatched it away quickly, shoving it into your apron.

“That’s not…that’s-” you floundered, embarrassed for him to have seen it.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop. You dropped it, so I picked it up and then realised what it was,” he explained softly.

“It’s fine. I’m dealing with it,” you shrugged, desperate to appear nonchalant.

“Sit down, doll”, he said sternly.

You scoffed, “Bucky…I’m busy running a restaurant here…”

He paused, looked up and bellowed across the diner, “Roscoe! Ron! Handle things while your boss takes a break!”

You rolled your eyes, turning to see Roscoe and Ron nodding furiously as they scattered and suddenly started working harder than you’d ever seen them. They had always been afraid of Bucky. You stifled a laugh.

“Problem solved, now sit,” he gestured.

You reluctantly sat down opposite him, “Bucky…”

“We’re gonna talk”.

“I don’t need-”

“No. Let’s do this”, he said sternly.

You folded your arms in front of you, fully aware that you resembled a petulant teenager but not caring enough to stop.

Bucky cleared his throat, taking a sip of his coffee before picking up the letter. “Now, I don’t want to overstep…but I can take care of this you know…”

You shook your head. “No. Thanks for the offer, but no,” you told him firmly.

“Alright. That’s fine. So, Lou has enough to cover it?” he asked, “all of it?”

You nodded a bit too quickly, “mmhmm”.

Bucky caught it immediately, your lie. You noticed the quirk of his brow and the subtle rubbing of his lips together. Damn him.

“Well, that’s a relief,” he sipped his coffee again and ate a few forkfuls of his meal, then wiped his mouth with a napkin and tilted his head quizzically. “Guess it’s all wrapped up, then”.

You nodded again in agreement, but knew he wasn’t done.

He took his time, casually taking a few more bites of his breakfast and sipping his coffee. You knew his relaxed demeanour was a careful façade…you had somehow found yourself at the centre of a famed Bucky Barnes interrogation.

You tried to appear relaxed, as if you had nothing more to add.

“Because…” he started.

Ugh.

“…because, if he didn’t have enough. That would be a problem, wouldn’t it?”

“Mmm. It would. But it’s not…so…”

“Right”, he cut you off. “But if he didn’t – great eggs today by the way – if he didn’t, that would be putting this place at risk, right? All the staff here and their jobs. Your job?”

“Right,” you replied, your voice a little strained.

“And of course Lou himself…he loves this place. It’s his baby. I’m sure he’d be devastated if he had to give it up to pay his medical bills. Especially as the last thing he needs right now is more stress and financial worries on top of his ill health”. He paused again to eat, not even looking up.

You nodded; your eyes now slightly cloudy now.

“Yep…” you said meekly.

He looked up at you, his eyes intensely locked onto yours, gesturing towards you with the fork. He was in full swing now. The diner suddenly felt much hotter, you could feel tiny beads of sweat forming on your forehead and the back of your neck.

“And I hope it would be known, if that was the case of course, that my offer would have no strings attached. Because I could imagine someone might decline it out of pride, or concern that it would have conditions and that person would then be in some sort of debt to me…either financially or emotionally. And if that was the case, I’d want to reassure them that it would only be a friend looking out for a friend, helping because I want to, and I can, and God knows I should do something nice once in a while to even out my moral scales…”

The barrier broke and your tears finally escaped, the stress about Lou and this intimidating bill, and your confusion about how you felt for Bucky, all finally coming to the surface. You cupped your face in your hands as you quietly sobbed.

“I’m sorry, I just…I…”

Bucky moved like lightning, whipping around to your side of the booth as he swung in next to you.

“Hey…hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to be clear what my offer entailed; but I understand why you’d be reluctant to accept my help”.

He pulled a few napkins from the dispenser and tenderly wiped away your tears.

“It wouldn’t be a loan, doll, and you wouldn’t need to make nice with me to say thanks. You could call me an asshole and dump these eggs on my head, and I’d still pay in full with a smile. There’s no expectation here, no contract – legal or implied”.

You sniffed, looking up at him blearily, “you’d really do all that for me…but…why?”

He paused, then very delicately used his thumb to collect the tears forming at the side of your eye.

“You know why,” he said plainly.

Your heart panged, and you looked down at your hands in your lap, clutching at one of the now-soggy napkins he’d given you. You sniffed again as you regained your composure, suddenly feeling exposed in front of him. The two of you stared at one another for a few moments and you were so desperate to tell him everything, but you couldn’t form the words. You hoped he would elaborate and fill in that gap for you, but he didn’t.

He quietly got up, putting on his coat and placing some bills down on the table to cover his check. He leaned over and kissed you on the crown of your head, then used a finger to tilt your chin up to look at him.

“You don’t have to decide anything now,” he told you as he looked into your eyes, “Think it over. I’ll be back here next week like always”.

He smiled at you, then disappeared out into the street. You heard the roaring of the rain outside as the diner door opened, the little bell above the frame chiming to announce his departure.

You missed him already.

You looked down at the hospital bill in your hands, the total at the bottom practically screaming from the page.

He’d hurt you so badly, you weren’t sure if you could ever fully forgive him for that fateful night. You understood it had been his insecurities, you understood he had lashed out after he thought his worst fears were realised – but that had only even explained his actions, not justified them.

Although…he’d always been there over the last year. Slow and steady, but he’d taken the time to rebuild his relationship with you platonically. He’d let you manage the pace, never tried to force anything more than you were willing to give him.

…and he’d been there for you.

He continued to be there for you.

It wasn’t about the money. He wasn’t trying to pay you off to win favour. He was just trying to be there for you, and this was something he had the power and resources to help you with.

He was your friend.

He loved you. He’d continued to love you…

“Are you back off break, boss?” Roscoe rudely interrupted your train of thought, “Ron said that the fryer-”

You were pulling off your apron before your brain could even catch up with your body.

“Nope,” you shot back, firing out of the booth at full speed as you tossed the apron at him on your way out, “a little longer…”

You left Roscoe gawping in your wake as you sailed through the front door. You yelped in shock as you stepped out into the downpour, you’d forgotten about the mini storm happening beyond the restaurant doors. It was so dark outside it looked more like early evening than the morning hours. You looked down at your immediately soaked uniform, your work shoes flooding as you traipsed through the puddles…

Focus!

You surveyed the street, your eyes catching a brief glimpse of the SUV turning the corner. The instantly recognisable JBB107 plates drawing your focus in the split second before they vanished.

And so you ran.

You sprinted after the SUV waving your arms, shouting for it to stop. A concerned elderly lady asked if you were okay but you sailed on by. You must’ve looked utterly insane.

You rounded the corner and rushed up behind the SUV as it slowed. The back door flew open, and Bucky suddenly appeared out of it, a look of horror on his face as the vehicle pulled over.

“Doll! Jesus Christ, what the- are you okay??” he shouted to you as you approached.

You didn’t answer, just flung yourself inside the car as you desperately tried to catch your breath. Bucky slid across the seat to give you room. The divider screen was up so you couldn’t see the driver. One less person to witness your mortifying display, at least.

“Fuck…you must be freezing,” he muttered as he pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders and leaning over to close the car door behind you.

You were, your teeth chattered. Your hair was wet and matted, your uniform soaked through.

“Bucky…” you said hoarsely as you dripped all over his plush car interior.

“What is it, doll?” he asked, his eyes wide and alarmed, “what’s going on??”

You couldn’t find the words so you acted purely on instinct, you cupped his face and kissed him. Kissed him hard. Kissed him longingly. He caught up quickly and kissed you back, his fingers tangled in your soaking hair. It was desperate, messy. Your teeth clashed and your cheeks bumped. It had been so long that you’d lost each other’s rhythm with this. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. You couldn’t have waited any longer.

He pulled away, gawping at you incredulously as he held your face in his hands.

“Doll…does this mean?”

“Let’s go slow,” you whispered, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. The effort you’ve put into rebuilding us from the ground up…for being my friend…for never pushing me…for Lou…but I’m not sure I’m ready to jump into this headfirst…whatever this is…”

He nodded, “of course, anything you want”.

“I’m not sure if I can…fully forgive. But I want to try,” you told him softly as you pressed your forehead to his.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as he sighed. A sigh of long held tension, of relief.

“Thank-you for giving me a chance…I didn’t think you ever would again,” he admitted.

“Yeah…well neither did I,” you laughed,

“What changed your mind?”

“Well…. how you showed up for me with Lou has made me rethink a lot of things. Plus…the money”.

He laughed, “the money? Really? This whole time I just needed to pay you off?”

“No…”, You rolled your eyes, “it was more that you offered, but you didn’t force anything, and you made it clear it was no strings attached. It’s like…you want to help me, but you trust me to make my own decisions and don’t just try and fix it all for me, like you used to. I just…it made me realise how much I’ve missed you. But it’s gotta be different this time…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…like…I want to stay in my apartment. And I want to keep my job,” you said firmly.

He nodded, “yeah. Of course”.

“Maybe I’d move back in with you one day…but I want my space”.

“Okay. You got it,”.

You smiled, “yeah?”

He smiled back at you, the smile that still made you weak at the knees. “Doll? If it means you’re by my side…Of course ‘yeah’. Anything you want. And I have some conditions too…”

“What?” you frowned. “This isn’t exactly a two-way negotiation, Buck…”

“Just…listen. They’re conditions for me. I promise I’m going to trust you entirely, and to communicate you with you properly – not let my emotions get the best of me. I’m a different man to who I was the last time we were together. I know how lucky I am to get this second chance with you. I’m not fucking it up. I'm gonna be...better”.

He spoke earnestly with such conviction that it was almost aggressive. You nodded gently, squeezing his hand. You believed him.

“Alright…well, let’s give it a shot, shall we?”

He grinned, “I can’t believe you’re here…”

“Me neither. But…I’m sorry I’m dripping rainwater all over your car”.

He shrugged. “Fuck the car”.

And then he kissed you again.

Maybe you did believe in happy endings.

THE END

There we have it! I hope you liked where it went. I know some of you didn't think she should ever forgive him and I understand, and I'm sorry if you're disappointed! But in my eyes he had shown her he was willing to change...and she wasn't trying to rush back into anything heavy. Thank you for reading!

If you liked this story, please consider supporting me with my Ko-Fi link 💐

[movedto-mastcrmarksman]

He snorts at Carol's comment, what he was hearing was ❝ You're just a critic or I shouldn't quit my day job and take this material to the comedy clubs. ❞ Clint thinks that his jokes were killer; maybe he should have stayed a circus clown. Or Carol isn't falling for his dramatics.

Lucky was eager when Carol gets up to scourge through her refrigerator to find him suitable leftovers to snack on. LT was going to jealous, but Clint wasn't about to try to negotiate with a cat this morning to get him wear his harness. Honestly, that was a feat only Jess seemed capable of without meeting a few claws. Leftovers normally loves him, except when it came to that or vet crates.

❝ Hey, I keep myself alive alright, just not out of trouble. ❞ This dog has saved him in more ways that one. Sometimes, he think he might have super powers or he was just a really good dog. A debate he may never figure out the answer. Clint looks up from the animals towards Carol to give her the stink eye as she questions if he can drive. ❝ I happen to have all my licenses again. ❞ The again is not helping his case against no jail.

Why did he start either of them on this train of thought? Because he has technically gone before and broken out; long Thunderbolts related story. ❝ She'd get a good excuse to look stunning and badass like the girls in the Sopranos coming to visit me. ❞ Really not selling his case, but it could never be said he wasn't smitten with Jess and think she looked good all thee time.

Clint's not going to break first. He was doubling down, if only because Carol's offered food and the Drew-Barton households were eaters. ❝ Tacos from that one place on Houston? I mean it is my last meal and all. ❞

HER EYES ROLL, WHICH SHE doesn't bother to hide. ❛   you should be in jail based on your humor alone.   ❜ she tells him, already up & trying to find a suitable snack for Lucky. the fridge is her ultimate destination, digging through half-empty leftover take-out containers until she finds the right one.

❛   here we go.   ❜ Carol sits back down, petting the dog's head as he approaches, wagging his tail. she starts to feed him, every so often lifting her gaze to stare at Clint. almost ( yet not fortunate enough ) to forget their original topic of conversation. ❛   i guess HE gets all the credit for you not being dead yet, huh ?   ❜

it takes her a minute to remember who Leftovers is. honestly, coffee hasn't done its thing yet. she feeds Lucky another piece. ❛   did you get a ticket ? wait, do you even know how to drive ?   ❜ she's kidding ( mostly ). ❛   i'm sure she will go visit you. talk to you through those phones, separated by the glass & look longingly into your eyes while complimenting your orange suit.  ❜

no, she doesn't believe he's going to jail. he wouldn't be so calm, let alone here if he was. another piece of chicken for the pup. ❛   maybe you should leave him here since you will be detained. i will watch him until Jess can come to pick him up.   ❜ maybe he will break before then. ❛   want me to order some food since it's your LAST meal ?   ❜

[unholyhelbig]

request: single mom reader decides to loan shark from natasha’s mob. when reader can’t pay back the loan, natasha’s men capture and beat her. natasha sees reader among the criminals and drug dealers who also haven’t payed back their loans, and excuses her, forgiving her debt.

Title: The Oversight

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 2799

Warnings: Drug use, kidnapping, guns, choking, threats, blood, horrible grammar.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

[a/n: Yeah, I kind of feel like this needs a part two. Let me know what you guys think and if you're interested]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Each breath you drew in spurred a sharp stitch in your side. They came in rapid succession, even as you struggled to recall the fuzzy details that usually calmed you down. Your first street name. What you called your first pet. The name of your second-grade teacher. They all swirled foggily, unable to recall.

Your mouth tasted metallic cotton and your heartbeat was pulsing through your entire body. Counting the thrums hadn’t helped either, you gave up as you rolled your neck in a snow circle. The dried blood that hardened against the side of your face, your cheek, and down the expanse of your collarbone crackled at the soft movement.

The room that housed you was pitch black. It was hard to tell when you opened your eyes, tears welling up and dripping down your face onto your uniform. Your arms were bound behind your back, shoulders screaming in protest and fingers going numb from the cold. Your small noises echoed. Wherever you were was impossibly vast.

The next breath that escaped you was deeper than the rest. Not necessarily calm, but enough for you to take stock of the situation; there were flashes of you leaving the diner where you worked nothing short of twelves. It had just rained, and the air was humid. You dropped your keys and bent down to pick them up.

Before you could insert them into the lock, something hard had come down on your temple. There was a rush of heat sloshing down your face and a moment later, as you looked up at the sky, the steel tip of a boot took the rest of your consciousness.

That didn’t bother you. You were fine, a little banged up, but fine. Your daughter was left with the sitter. It could have been hours, maybe even a day. Your stomach clenched in hunger, and you drifted in and out of lucidity. They’d left you un-gagged but you didn’t have it in you to scream. You had a sinking feeling that no one would hear you anyway.

You’d flinched when the first 500-volt lamp let out a sharp hiss before flipping on. You shrunk into yourself, blinking away the sudden burst of white light that filled the room. It was directed towards you, and the rest of the space was still a frustratingly thick darkness. You couldn’t see who had turned them on, but they could see you.

The boots that walked across the floor were loud. They echoed like your earlier sobs. A metal chair was being dragged, and the sound was piercing. It did nothing to aide your aching head. You were thankful to see something other than pitch black, however big the danger.

You recognized the man who was in front of you. His outline flickered solidly. He looked rougher than you did; dirty-blonde hair, and stubble. There was a bandage across the center of his nose, on his fingertips, as if he’d fisted the razor while shaving. His purple T-shirt was covered by a dusty-brown leather jacket. His stare was hard, emotionless.

“You’re awfully quiet for a hostage.” He said, straddling the chair he had dragged over. His chest rested against the metal backing. “You can scream if you want. Wear yourself down. It’ll make this a lot easier.”

“What is this?” You asked instead of taking him up on his offer.

He was familiar to you. Clint. He came into the diner every Wednesday and Friday night like clockwork. He’d order a roast beef on rye with Swiss cheese and extra dressing on the side. He’d suck down two beers with his meal and tipped generously.

Sometimes he was with the man they called ‘The Winter Soldier’. You’d always found the name laughable, but the rumors about him were enough for you to hold your tongue. He never ate but would sometimes order a diet coke and sip it while Clint spoke through large bites of food.

Law enforcement wouldn’t’ touch Bucky Barnes, and your boss would typically comp whatever he ordered. A few months ago, you had shared your first words with him behind the diner. The air stunk of rotted food and hardly counted as fresh air. However, it was a few degrees cooler than the kitchen.

He had offered you a cigarette, one already perched between his lips, a zippo lighter at the ready in his other hand. You declined with the shake of your head, and a quiet ‘no thank you’. There was an uncomfortable silence, but it was better than the damp warmth of the kitchen. A sweet, burning scent filled your nose when he lit his cigarette and let the smoke curl around the two of you like a slack rope.

“You work hard in there.” Bucky said, taking a long inhale. He held it within his lungs, voice pinched. “Harder than anyone else I’ve seen in a while.”

You weren’t about to tell him about your daughter, not with his reputation, or the small smattering of pink scars across his chiseled features. So, you nodded instead. The number of tips you got in the broken down, greasy diner was the difference between two meals and one. So, you smiled sweetly and laid on the southern accent even though you’d only spent a short stint in Georgia when you were eighteen. It was easy to perfect.

“I bet you could name my order right now.”

“You don’t order.”

“I don’t trust the food.” He shrugged listlessly, a lazy smile against his lips. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“That’s a good call.”

He laughed at your honesty, and it was a nice sound. He disarmed you and that was worrying. Bucky let the cigarette sizzle out in a puddle at his feet. He used the tip of his steel-toed boot to grind the paper into damp ash.

“You wouldn’t’ have to work so hard if you had some extra cash, would you?”

The question caught you off guard and you couldn’t stifle the vicious glare that you gave him. Your break was almost over, and you could have, should have, walked back into the restaurant to finish the rest of your shift. Bucky lifted his hands up as a peace offering.

“Look, lady, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. All I’m saying is, you’re not blind to what happens in there, the type of people that frequent this place. You’ve always turned a blind eye and that’s something my boss appreciates. Something she trusts.”

“And who exactly is your boss?”

He tsked “I can’t tell you that, sweetheart. But she wants to make you an offer, she wants to offer you a loan. You’re what? Three months behind on rent? She’ll front that for you and the following two.”

You took a deep breath of stale air. It was a tempting offer, even if it came in the form of a seedy enforcer in an even seedier alleyway. You were three days from getting evicted. Three days from ending up on the streets in a neighborhood that didn’t’ have a single safe one.

“What’s the catch?” You asked.

“Catch? There’s no catch. This is a friendly loan. All you’ve gotta do is pay it back when you’re on your feet again.”

It was an oversight, not asking for a concrete timeline. You hadn’t paid Bucky’s boss back yet, and over the next few months, there were stifled threats, and both Bucky and Clint watched you carefully at the job that you still worked like nothing had changed. The feeling of being indebted lingered, but this time, it was to an unknown entity instead of a landlord that was ultimately harmless.

Everything needed to be paid back in full. These were thousands you didn’t have. And now, two weeks after the initial threat, you were strapped to a metal chair with blood dripping down the sound of your face, in despite need of a drink of water.

Clint was harmless compared to The Winter Soldier, but his muscles still flexed under his shirt as he pulled his jacket off and let it fall to the dusty floor illuminated in blue light. “I would prefer not to get that dirty. It’s genuine leather, you know?”

You glowered at him as he stood and took a few more steps towards you. He looked relatively harmless each time you’d seen him in the diner. Sometimes he had a girl with him, a slight thing that was just as littered in scars as he was. She would order a plate of bacon that was cooked to a crisp and split it with a golden retriever that laid at their feet.

When his wrapped knuckles made contact with your cheek, your head clocked in the opposite direction. There was a sharp pain in your jaw, a ringing in your ear. He had slammed into the same side of your face as earlier, and you lost vision for a second.

Blood filled your mouth, and you spit the mix of saliva, bile, and blood onto the floor. There was a drain in the center and that worried you more than anything else. Your breathing came fast and hard and you glared at him, teeth stained pink.

“Is that all?” You asked him.

It was stupid, you knew it was stupid. But it bothered you more than anything that you had gotten yourself wrapped up in this. Your father was no stranger to the mob, and you should have seen it from a mile away. The fear he lived with. Until the day he died, he would look over his shoulder and you refused to do the same.

Clint grabbed your face, squeezing hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. “You’re a tough chick, huh? I think we both know why you’re here. All you have to do is get the money and all of this vanishes.”

“I don’t have the money.” Your words were garbled between his fingers. “You’re sure as fuck not going to get it if you kill me.”

“Kill you?” Clint unhanded you and let out a laugh. “Kill you, she says. No, we’re not going to kill you, she would never get her money that way… your daughter on the other hand.”

You pulled against the ropes, and they dug painfully into you. The chair was liable to break, but it had been bolted to the floor. It was much stronger than the one he’d dragged over. The mix of anger and fear that had rushed over you pulled away any thought of lingering aches and pains. Be damned to the head trauma.

Your teeth were gritted, voice a low hiss “Leave her the fuck out of this.”

“Did I strike a nerve?”

“I swear to you, I will get your money, I just need time. I’m not… You can keep me under surveillance as collateral, take my car, my apartment- just leave her out of this.”

Clint gripped your throat with his calloused hand, your ability to breathe became more difficult, half-moon nails digging into your flesh. It stung fiercely, and you let out a gurgle in response. “Or she could be our collateral. I think she’d make a great enforcer, with the proper education, that is.”

Is that what happened to the girl that ate lunch with Clint at the diner? She didn’t looked like she was there against her will, but there was an immense sadness to her eyes. Clint hadn’t released you yet and your vison was growing fuzzy at the edges.

“Let her go,”

Your chest was burning at this point and when he pulled his hand back you tried desperately to regain your sense of lucidity. You coughed, nearly vomiting as he took a long stride backwards, seemingly put into his place with a simple sentence.

Over the ringing of your ears, you heard the sharp click of heels. They were confident, and your chin dropped to your chest as you panted in succession, spit dripping in strings from your lips. You didn’t have the strength to look up, your head was pounding.

“I think that’s enough,” Her voice was smooth, just the smallest bit of an accent in her words. You couldn’t place it, but you couldn’t tell which way was up at this point. “You’re dismissed.”

“Oh, come on Natasha, I was just having a little fun.”

“Dismissed, Clint.”

There was a labored sigh and the sound of his footsteps retreating. It brought little relief to you, however. You felt as if you had traded one evil for another. Eventually, you lifted your head to stare at the ceiling. The stranger hadn’t said anything, and the pitch dark above was more desirable to the unknown.

You heard her sit down and felt her eyes watching you. The swimming in your head started to dissipate so you clocked her with a stare. The woman in front of you was angelic, in such a way that you figured Clint’s choking stunt had actually done you in.

Her stare was an unripe green rimmed in gold, her cheekbones carved from marble. There was a beautiful softness to her expression, and her deep red hair flowed over her shoulders in a waterfall of color. She was studying you, not phased by the cold of the room.

The woman wore a black t-shirt, deep slashes of ink peaking from the dip of the V-neck. You didn’t’ let your eyes linger long. It was a marking that you’d seen on Clints bicep and on Buckey’s hand. You hadn’t gotten a chance to clock it on the girl that was kept in their company.

“Is this the part where you come in with your good cop schtick?” You mumbled.

“Darling, Clint is the good cop.”

“Nice, I like it.” You rolled your shoulders back, fighting the stiffness “Bad cop and worse cop is much more effective.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you for someone in your position. Thousands of dollars in debt and seemingly no way to pay back my money. It’s not a good spot to be in, Y/n.”

Natasha stood from the chair, her muscles straining at the action. In a fluid motion, she pulled a black standard issue handgun from the space between her skin and her jeans. She pumped the shaft, the sound echoed more than your quickened breathing.

She used the tip to push your chin up, forcing you to look into her unblinking eyes. You were a dead man, you knew that from her cold stare. You couldn’t look away, even if the option was given.

“Baby, I’ve been in this business for a long time.” Her breath was hot on your collarbone, a mix of mint and tobacco. “I know exactly the type that you are. I cater to your kind. More often than not, my clientele need a little bit of encouragement.”

The tip of her gun traced your jaw, her finger loosely on the trigger. It was cold against your collarbone, down the center of your breasts. She held it there, jaw set in stone.

“We’ll keep you here for a few days. Once you dry out a little, I’m sure you’ll suddenly come into the cash.”

“Dry out? You think I’m on drugs?”

The tip pushed hard enough into your sternum to make you let out a grunt of pain. “You hide it quite well, pet. I’m sure it won’t be as simple when you start to feel those withdraw symptoms. Money flows simple in this town when those cravings kick in.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her, despite the weapon that she was packing. A frown creased between her eyebrows, but she held it in place. “The hardest thing I’ve ever hit is a blunt in a high school rotation. That was your brilliant plan? Dry me out and then what? Search my backyard for jars filled with money. I don’t have it. I make 2.50 an hour at a diner.”

Natasha scrutinized you, eyes hard. She righted herself and pulled the gun away from your center before flipping on the safety and shoving it back into her jeans. She started to pace the length of the light.

“Bucky, he offered me a loan and I took it so I could pay the rent on an apartment for me and my daughter.” You said, voice quiet “I work thirteen hour shifts six days a week, and it’s still not enough. I’m not… I don’t know who you cater to, but I have a feeling it’s not someone like me.”

“No.” she crossed her arms over her chest, “It seems as if you’re an oversight.”

“Great,” you flexed your numbing fingers, “An oversight you’ll let go?”

Natasha shook her head, clenching and unclenching her jaw. “No, I’m afraid not.”

[waywardcrow]

I’d do bad things with you.

Summary: The day after the wedding, Bucky and his new wife go to Stark's house to plan their next step because that's why they are married, right? Not because they love each other.

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Stark!reader.

TW: Really not so many, talks of murder but very lightly, implications of mafia kind of stuff but please remember all I know about this I learned from SoC and fics lol, allutions to death, mention of cheating and sex, lots of angst, curvy!reader, no mention of y/n and reader's nickname is Bells (context coming soon), kind of enemies to lovers but not really enemies, arranged marriage, this will be a +18 story so minors dni.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, please tell me if I make grammar mistakes.

Part of the Yours to lose series.

All eyes on us <<<

Pictures from pinterest and graphic and dividers by the amazing @ firefly-graphics so all credits to the creators.

Bucky didn’t dare to say anything when his wife closed the door of the guest room, how could he? His dragă asked for one thing: help to protect her family.

That didn’t mean she owned him something, she was his wife but not his woman, not anymore.

If only he wasn’t so impulsive, if he weren’t so blind to recognize what he had in front on him, they wouldn’t be in this situation, their wedding wouldn’t be an arrangement, he would had ask her to marry him instead of trapping her.

Still, he had hopes, he would never give up in getting her back, and when Bucky finally did it, he would make up for the lost time.

Alone in her room, Bells felt the Barnes’ family ring heavy in her hand, not only for the rose diamond, it was heavy because she didn’t deserve it. She was well aware she only had it because she ended up being a Stark, there was no way this could ever happen to her being the mistress on turn for the Winter Soldier.

And even knowing it, she missed those times.

Everyone that worked in the restaurant knew she was sleeping with him, they also knew it was better for their tongues that she never heard them talk about it, Bucky made an example of the first and only one who tried, a jackass named Julian who liked to make women uncomfortable.

After that, everyone turned a blind eye when Bucky when to the bar and talk to her for hours, when he called her to his office and she used disappeared in there to don't go back to work for the whole shift, they saw them going home at night, both being walking proof of the affair.

Her friends sometimes looked at Bells with concern; especially Kate but no one said a thing.

She would get in the car with Bucky who would try to convince her to stop working so he could spoil her and Bells would gave him the same answer, she only wanted him, not his money.

It was so stupid of her, to believe he could feel the same one day but how could she not think it when he played his part so well? Treating him like she was something delicate, something beautiful, she wanted to believe he could want her, love her.

That was why she spent most of the nights with him during the months her fantasy ran wild, she was even familiar with his men, Steve and Sam adored her, Scott, Thor and Clint were sweet with her, even the stoic Loki smiled sometimes at her jokes.

Bucky made her feel at home, she had free reign in the house except for his office and they found their routine very quickly.

Even in the nights Bucky couldn’t join her right after work, he would find her sometimes eating alone in the kitchen or taking a shower and he would made up to her, he was so tender with Bells, making her feel everything was right, maybe it was because she never had a real home and she craved it that she was so easy to fool.

After taking the dress off her and removing her make-up, the girl curled in bed, refusing to cry again for him.

“Good morning, dragă, I made breakfast” was the first thing Bucky told his wife in the morning. His wife, he would never get tired of saying it even if it was only in his head.

She looked beyond beautiful, the ivory set of pants and jacket hug her curves and he was loving the cleavage cut he could see from his place in the counter. His wife looked like what she was, a Queen.

“Don’t call me that, James” hearing his name on her lips hurt but he deserved it, at least she didn’t call him by his last name.

Their last name.

“Does my lady prefer any other nickname?” he asked without stop smiling, serving her coffee like he knew she liked it.

“I have a name, stick to it”

Her name was beautiful, both of them, the one her parents gave her and the one he met her with but she was the woman he loved, dragă was really appropiate.

“You used to love when I called you that, I don’t think I should change it if we want this marriage to be believable” he shrugged, knowing well why his wife didn’t like it anymore.

“We made a deal, Barnes” oh, James was gone “you will not make anyone believe this after we deal with our enemies”

She really did believe he would give up on her, which almost made him smile. His dragă still had to learn a few things about him.

“You should eat, Mrs. Barnes, we have to be at your brother’s house in half an hour”

Bucky was the least happy about working with Tony Stark, he supposed they could have been friends in another circumstances but he hurt his sister, if Natasha would ever did the same to Becca, Bucky would never forgive her.

Thor drove them to Stark’s mansion and Bucky hated how at ease his wife was there, that wasn’t her home, not anymore.

Russo and Castle were waiting besides Stark who hugged his wife and kissed her cheeks, taking her away from Bucky, leaving him scowling beside Steve and Sam.

“You look like you drank your weight in alcohol, Billy” she giggled and Bucky’s heartache increased, when was the last time he made her laugh? He couldn’t remember.

“Are you trying to tell me something, topolina?” Russo inquired with an offended look while they walked to Stark’s office.

“Yes, she means you look like shit Bill” Castle answered before his wife could and they all laughed but Russo and Bucky, Sam and Steve were too busy talking with Thor to notice. He watched as they took her inside the house bringing back her sweet personality, all the love she felt for them that made him mad watching the “proof” of her betrayal slapping him in the face once again.

Maybe Hydra staged all that but it was his fault, his own insecurities and ghosts were what made her hate him and he couldn’t see the way out of the mess he created, not when the scars that piece of shit gave her in his murder attempt were visible every time Bucky could see her arms.

“Are you ok Buck?” Sam asked quietly, his gaze following Bucky’s, his dragă was smiling at Pepper and Tony, touching her sister in law’s bump. He might never get that with her and if it wasn’t with her- Bucky knew it now, if it wasn’t her, it was no one.

“I’m fine, let’s go”

Pierce had endless resources, deals with powerful people, enough money to buy himself a kingdom, lots of people who would kill for him without hesitation but with all that, he had an Aquiles heel.

“We know he feels like he already won the reelection for Mayor but I’m not so sure” Bells projected a picture of a handsome man with dark hair. He had a kind smile and even the red sunglasses didn’t disminished his likable aura “Matthew Michael Murdock was born and raised in Hell’s kitchen, he graduated Columbia with honors with his best friend, Franklin Nelson, the current District Attorney and he was a champion of the people as a lawyer in his neighborhood despite he had multiple chances to work for a big firm, all of that changed when his soon to be wife, Karen Page, got in the way of Wilson Fisk”

Billy raised his hand as if he was in a classroom.

“Why does this sound like someone talking about their crush and how this helps us?” next to him, Maria hit him in the head and he yelped “I’m just saying!”

“She has a point, you would know it if you let Bells finish” his sister smiled at her friend “please go on topolina.

“Thanks Maria, you’re right as always” Bells winked at her and Maria blow her a kiss “Murdock it’s going to help us beat Pierce in the legal side and meanwhile dear Karen would help us convince him to let us give his campaign a hand” there was a mischievous grin in her face that Bucky had never seen before and it took everything in Bells to look away from him.

Pepper then cleared her throat and Bells took her seat, everyone looking at the ginger.

“Since Fisk got killed in jail, Miss Page got out of witness protection and Mr. Murdock reinforced his fight against the system from the political side” Bells helped her showing reports of Murdock’s popularity, his good press, all the people that supported him “we are going to destroy Pierce taking everything from him. Natasha and Yelena are working with Wanda and Maria to take more territory from him, Madani and Torres keep going after his most powerful lieutenants just like we talked about the last meeting.”

The map in the screen showed the comparison of the before and after, all the east side of the city that once was Pierce’s now it was all theirs, there were still parts resisting the change, it would have been quicker if the group didn’t tried to make the transition the less bloody as possible.

It wasn’t about power, even if it was what their line of work demanded, it was about revenge.

Pierce took something irreplaceable from each one of them, it would be only fair they’d leave him with nothing.

This time Bucky catched Bells eye and refused to let her go.

If not for Pierce, maybe they still would been together but maybe not, Bells was so afraid to tell him the truth about who she really was when Tony found her and it just added to the impending disaster they were, they would been living a lie, she would have been just the mistress, the toy on turn for someone that didn’t loved her.

Bells had to remind herself she didn’t need Bucky, she couldn’t, not after being the target of his cruelness, she couldn’t wash the memory of him fucking Jenna on his desk after telling Bells he loved her hours before.

She knew the truth now, she couldn’t forgive him, not when Bells’ heart was still aching for Bucky’s betrayal, for his lack of faith in her, for his lack of love towards her.

On the other side, Bucky was proud of her, his dragă was born to rule at his side and he didn’t care if he had to hunt Alexander Pierce himself, he would do anything to do this right.

If the murder of his father taught him something, it was that he wouldn’t fix anything feeling sorry for himself, Bucky had all the chances in the world to make amends and he would pay for every mistake with the blood of their enemies.

Tag list: learisa blackhawkfanatic queerqueenlynn calwitch pono-pura-vida

Hiya! This took me so long but it was only because I was stressing myself about it, then I decided to do whatever felt right and here we are! Also the nicknames I used here:

dragă: sweetheart.

topolina: little mouse.

Let me know what you think.

Love, Lily.

[abbatoirablaze]

Deal With The Devil, Chapter 7

Word Count:  2.1k

Warnings: mentions of murder, talking of a woman like property.

“What the hell is this about?” Steve roared as he entered Tony’s boardroom without so much as a hello.  Inez had been following closely behind with Sam and Bucky, and they were surprised to see just Clint, instead of his entire entourage, hounding Tony about something while he sipped lazily on a drink, “why am I getting a call saying that you, Barton, of all people, is questioning my impending nuptials?  Why are you harassing Stark about it?”

“Rogers…how kind of you to join,” Tony said apathetically as he took another sip from his drink, “and you brought Inny...”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked as he yelled from the walk-in closet towards his second and third in command, “what problem could Barton possibly pose that involves me?”

“Apparently, he’s at Stark’s right now…got a message from Happy saying that he’s getting pretty aggressive about not being the one to get Inez.  I guess Tony was going to lean into that relationship if you didn’t come for her.”

Inez’ eyes shot to Sam’s, “What?”

“You’re quite the trophy,” Sam smirked as he made his way towards the closet to talk to Steve.  She glanced at Bucky, and he refused to look at her, “and he’s not the only one throwing a fit about it.  But he is the loudest.  We should get over there quick to show Tony we’re in his corner.  Make him remember why he agreed to leave his sister in your care.”

“The fuck if I care if-“

“If my brother is in trouble, you are going to help him,” Inez growled as she pulled herself from staring at Bucky.  She got out of the bed and pushed past Sam, storming into the closet where Steve was just pulling on a pair of tailored dress pants, “you’re not going to let some low-life like Clint Barton storm in and harass him over me.  That’s not right, Steve!”

“Not like he stormed in on my club and demanded your body in his bed, Inez.  He’s just being a pain in the ass, like always.  It’s Barton.  Tony will hear him out and then push him off with the reminder that he already has Nat and her sister warming his bed,” Steve shrugged as he pulled a shirt from the hanger.  Inez ripped the shirt out of his hands and threw it on the ground, “Hey-“

“He’s my brother!” she replied once more, cutting him off again, “and your in-law, once we get married.”

Steve’s jaw twitched as he looked at her.

She had nerve. 

And she was fucking crazy. 

He could see it hiding just behind those innocent, sweet doe-eyes. 

But God was he turned on by the thought of her being grateful and underneath him.  A smile pulled at the corners of his lips, “if I help him, what do I get?  Do I get to fuck that little cunt of yours raw on our wedding night tonight?  You gonna give me everything you got, bunny?  You gonna be a good little wife for me?”

“First of all, you’re getting tested before that dick is ever inside of me-“

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Steve smirked, only really hearing the last part of the sentence, “just a day ago, you were saying I’d never be inside of you…and this morning you were trying to tease and ride me…and now you-“

“You’re getting tested first,” she hissed, cutting him off as she pulled another shirt from the hanger and pressed it against his chest, “that’s not negotiable.  But if you go and help Tony, I’ll let you do whatever you want to me…once you come back clean, that is.”

Steve’s brow raised, “Whatever?  You mean…whatever I want?  Nothing is off limits?”

“If that’s what it takes.  To me, family always comes first.  That includes being on Tony’s side,” She nodded and Steve’s smile grew.  He grabbed the shirt and slipped it on, then wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to his chest, and pressed his lips against hers.  She didn’t respond and he pulled away with a frown, “what?  No kiss for daddy?”

“Don’t call yourself that.”

“I want a baby!” he told her firmly, “we do this, you agree that we can get to work on it as soon as possible.  That means even before the wedding.”

“If you get tested and you’re clea-“

“I will be!” he remarked, “do we have a deal, Inez?”

Her eyes glanced down to his lips, and back to his eyes.  Steve bit his bottom lip and watched the gears turning in her head.

“Steve, I-“

“Do we have a deal or not, Inny?” he asked teasingly, “because I have no problem with ignoring your brother, and Barton!”

She looked towards the door of the walk-in, and when she saw that Sam had witnessed their ‘intimate moment,’ she leaned into Steve, “can we talk about this later?”

“We’ll talk about it now,” he said firmly in response, “you want me to do you a favor.  And you said anything.  I’m not asking you to let me fuck you in front of all of my men.  I’m asking you for an investment, Inez.  I-“

“A baby isn’t an investment, Steve,” she argued, “it happens because-“

“Two people fucked,” he pointed out, “look, I get it.  You’re nervous around others…and we’ll work on that…bunny.  Now, do you agree?”

“Fine!” she whispered, “but only after you’re cleared.”

“Great,” he grinned, slapping her ass lightly, “now, let’s go save big bro, shall we?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Clint growled, glaring at Steve, “this isn’t your concern.”

“It is when my fiancé’s family is involved,” Steve said firmly before shooting a glance at Tony, “you okay, Stark?  Happy sent word to Sam that someone was…bothering you.  And, well, me and Inez here were about to start making some plans for the wedding, but we wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

“I have it handled, but thanks!” Tony said simply as he downed the rest of his drink, “as I was saying, Barton.  I can’t promise you my sister’s hand.  She’s already promised to Rogers here, right Inny?”

Clint’s gaze found Inez and she wanted to take a step back, but Bucky’s hand found the small of her back, keeping her in place. 

“I-I’m marrying Steve.”

Bucky’s hand dropped with the simple words, as it felt like a small knife going into his heart. 

“It’s unfair is what it is!” Clint argued, turning his attention back to Tony, “for Christ’s sakes, she’s a woman, she can’t make those decisions.  She’s not the head of the family that runs Manhattan, you are!”

“What’s unfair is you telling me how I should run my family!” Tony replied, “I am the head of it, as you loved to point out just a second ago.  And I’ll run it the way that I see fit.  And what I see as fit is Steve marrying my sister!”

“Your marriage fucked up the promises to the five families,” Clint growled, “Back when Barnes’ father had Staten Island, he was supposed to marry Potts.  Parker was betrothed to your little sister.  But then you married Potts so she couldn’t marry Parker, and Barnes got left out in the cold too.”

“By that logic she belongs to Barnes,” Tony smirked as he shot a glance to Steve’s third in command, “hey Buck, care to marry my little sister?”

“That’s not what I mean!” Clint growled, “she belongs to me!  Or Thor.  Not to Rogers.  His family wasn’t involved in the promise.”

“Oh, but he was,” Tony answered, “you see in that original plan my sister was supposed to marry Peter.  Pepper and Bucky were supposed to be married, and if I had another sister, she was supposed to marry Rogers, and vice versa, if Rogers had a sister I was supposed to marry her.  But none of that happened.  But I’m following through with the original plans.  Don’t you worry, Barton.  The five families always had a plan.  One that outsiders weren’t akin to.”

“THIS IS BULLSHIT!”

“What’s bullshit,” Tony started as he stood from his spot, “is the fact that you came into my place of business and demanded my sister’s hand when you found out she was promised to Rogers, almost like it was your birthright.  My sister was given an out when I married Pepper because her marrying Peter would be too close to wrong.  You are owed nothing, Barton.  You and Odinson.  The two of you took advantage of two old men and gutted them and their families.  The only people in this room that are ‘owed’ anything is Barnes.  He’s owed an arm that Thor took from him.  He’s owed a marriage that I took from him.  He’s owed his rightful place ruling over Staten Island, which the Allfather took from him.  So get off your bullshit and get out of my building before I kill you myself and give Barnes your territory.”

There was a tense moment where the two leaders stared at one another, and Inez stepped forward.  Clint’s gaze found her as her heels clicked under the marble.  But she’d only been looking to Steve.  He held his arm out to her, and she walked into it, playing the role of picture perfect, loving couple.

“I think you should leave, Mr. Barton!” you said in a warning tone, “For your own safety.”

His nose twitched and he looked between Steve and Tony for a moment before departing.  Sam, Happy, and Bucky followed him to the elevators. 

“You didn’t need to come, Rogers.” Tony grumbled as he moved to his bar and grabbed himself another drink, “I had it under control.” 

“Wasn’t my choice!” Steve admitted as his fiancé quietly made her way next to her brother, “Inez wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Tony didn’t look up from his bar as Inez made her way beside him.  She reached for the rocks glasses and grabbed two, before pouring herself and Steve one in silence.  Tony looked over at her, and he could see past her stiff upper lip.  He could see the tears hiding in her eyes. 

“I’m okay, Inny.” He said gently, reaching over to her.  When his hand found hers, she stopped pouring and looked at him.  The decanter wobbled in her hand, and he took it away from her.  He sighed, seeing the softness in his little sister’s eyes, “Inny…I’m okay.  He wasn’t going to hurt me.”

“We both know how Yelena, Natasha, and Clint work, Tony.” She all but whimpered, “they killed mom and dad…they were trying to take Manhattan once when-“

Tony cut off her words when he pulled her into his chest. 

Steve felt like an outsider as he watched this side of his fiancé that he didn’t know existed.  He’d managed to see her crazy side, her headstrong side, her sarcastic side, but not this.  Not the vulnerable woman. 

She sobbed into her older brother’s chest as she clung to him, and Steve felt something pang in his chest. 

He wanted to be the one that she clung to like that. 

He wanted to be the one that provided her with that comfort. 

“It’s okay, Inny…” Tony sighed, soothing her, “we’re okay.  They’re not going to hurt me…or Pepper.  Or the baby…”

Inez backed away from her older brother, shock lacing her features, “What?”

Tony smirked, “not the way we planned on telling you…but you’re going to be an aunt, Inny…Pepper just found out the other day…”

This time the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes were for an entirely different reason, “Tony-I-you-“

“I know,” he smiled, “we’ve been trying for a while…”

“Eight years!” she reminded him. 

“I’m going to be a dad…”

“Congratulations, Stark!” Steve offered, still halfway across the room.  Tony looked back, having almost forgot about the other person in the room. 

“Thanks, Steve…”

“Guess that means the next of the five families legacy has started,” Steve teased, “and seeing as Pepper and Parker are related and I’m marrying Inez, this kid’ll have their pick of the litter.”

“God willing,” Tony laughed, “Pepper wants a boy…but I kind of want a little girl…Inny was hell to raise, but it was fun…”

“If the baby’s a girl, she’ll kick your ass!”

“Speaking of which…Pepper and I had been talking…when the baby is born, we want you, and Steve to be the godparents.”

Inez’ eyes bulged, “What?”

“Well, you are my sister,” Tony shrugged, “and Steve will be your husband…”

“Tony-I-we-“

“We would be honored,” Steve answered as he walked across the room and wrapped his arm around Inez’ waist, “Thank you for thinking of us.”

“We’re family now, Rogers,” Tony said solemnly, glancing to Barnes.  He noticed Steve staring at his sister, but her gaze was on Steve’s third in command.  His own mind thought back to what his wife had told him when she’d gone to the house the other night, “family looks out for each other…and they’re always there.”

“All too true!” Steve said proudly as Tony looked back to him and their eyes met. 

Chapter 8

Tag List:  @teambarnes72, @prokey16, @lohnes16

[jesevans]

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 28

Part 28: Fatal Trespasses

Series Masterlist

Words: 6.7k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mob crime families, strong language, physical violence, character death. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clint paused to see Belova’s number on his phone, especially since Steve tossed her out. He understood why his boss did it, he just didn’t entirely agree with it. Belova was young, but she had a lot of potential. She was strong and loyal. Clint had no reason not to trust her.

That, more than anything, had him answering the call.

“Belova?”

“I’ve got a location on Banner,” she said.

That got his interest. “Where?”

Belova gave him the address, an apartment over a dive bar on Stark’s turf. He knew the place.

Neal’s words about Belova falling into enemy hands crossed his mind.

“How do I know you’re not walking me into a trap?” he had to ask.

“I may not be working for the Rogers family at the moment,” she said. “But I still serve Mrs. Rogers. She would want me to relay this information.”

“Yeah, she would,” Clint said. Mrs. Rogers trusted her and considering how she’d supported him and Nat, well, that meant something to him.

“There’s more on Banner,” she went on quickly. “It will be sent to you from an unknown number when this call ends. I hope you’ll find it helpful.”

Clint did too. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too,” she said, ending the call.

Sure enough, the text came through a few seconds later. The attachment didn’t have much to offer about Bruce Banner. But his Senator brother? Clint had to read over it again to make sure he read it correctly. If what he was reading got out, the scandal would ruin the entire Banner family.

How the hell did Belova pull it off?

He and Scott were supposed to carry out their part of the boss’s plan tonight, around midnight. Clint had almost six hours to kill before getting ready for that. Did he trust Belova? Would he find Banner if he went to that address?

Anger for every bruise, every cut on Nat’s body rushed to the surface as he considered the intel he’d just been given. His Nat would need weeks to physically heal from the beating she’d taken at the hands of her husband. The fear she’d experienced in the trap of her marriage would take a lot longer to recover from if she ever did.

Guilt clawed at him from the inside, like an old, wounded beast. He could have put a stop to it. He could have taken her and run. He would have betrayed his loyalty to her brother, his boss. But maybe they’d be somewhere safe right now. Maybe she wouldn’t have terrible nightmares and shadows behind her eyes.

Maybe Steve would have killed them.

No, Clint told her over and over that he loved her. That one day, maybe Steve would change his mind and they could be together as they were always meant to be. And that day finally came. Neither of them dared to ask for more. Steve allowing them to be together was more than they could have hoped for.

But Nat had taken a severe beating to get them to that point. And Steve still wouldn’t have gone to check on her if hadn’t been for his wife’s insistence. Not with everything going on all around them.

He would have given anything to take that beating for Nat.  He’d felt so helpless that day when they found her like that in her husband’s house, broken and small. Yet again, Clint had been forced to contain the rage he hadn’t been allowed to express or act on. It had been one of the hardest things he’d done in his whole damn life. And he’d been recovering from getting shot on top of it.

But now, just maybe Belova had given him something he desperately wanted – a chance at some payback.

Steve? Well, Steve warned Banner that he needed to disappear. That the man only made it as far as Stark territory was surely not what the boss had in mind.

Banner never paid any attention to the soldiers outside his house. He took them for granted. Setting up a diversion for the armed guards staying with Banner was just too easy. Within an hour, Clint had Banner delivered to the old warehouse on the outskirts of the city. They often used it for such special occasions.

Slumped in the wooden chair with his hands bound in front of him and a sack over his head, Banner just sat, waiting. Clint would have had him tied to that chair but his arms, shown off by the dirty white t-shirt he wore, showed layers of bruises. They looked as bad as those on the woman he loved.

Clint smiled. It was the least of what the fucker deserved.

When the sack was pulled from his head, Banner’s gaze wildly scanned the room. When he spotted Clint, outrage blended with fear to find himself at the mercy of his wife’s lover.

“What the fuck is this?” Banner asked. His lower lip was cut, a dark ugly scab at its center. One of his eyes was blackened. “Steve and I had a deal.”

“Sure you did,” Clint told him. “You either disappear or you would disappear. But holing up on Stark turf? That’s not really disappearing, is it?”

“And you’re doing this to prove what?” Banner asked, eyeing him warily.

“Got nothing to prove,” Clint told him, taking a step closer.

Banner’s dark eyes hardened in anger. “Don’t you?”

Clint watched the anger that Nat described so many times about darken his face. Banner always seemed so calm, collected whenever Clint observed him during business transactions for the family.

When the two men crossed paths, the anger Clint held in check was always close to the surface. Banner was married to the woman he loved, and the man’s entitlement and contempt made Clint sick inside, like poison. Banner had Steve fooled, painting Nat as pampered but unstable and dramatic. Banner had to know Nat was with him every opportunity they had – and there were precious few times. Bitterness that he could never make Nat love him drove Banner to abuse her, verbally and mentally.

That was bad enough. When Nat learned she was pregnant, Clint came so close to getting her to run away with him. She thought about it. One tearful night, she told him she would. That was the night of the horrible fight Banner had with Nat. The one where Nat was left broken at the foot of the stairs.

She lost the baby. His baby, not Banner’s. That loss haunted her, and she blamed herself. For him, that loss was a wound that never healed, a hole in his heart.

Clint waited, not willing to let the lawyer draw him into a debate. It wasn’t easy.

After a moment, Banner chuckled, shaking his head though Clint could tell the effort physically hurt him.

“Steve’s got his sister back home now,” Banner taunted him. “He’ll even let you take care of her like the good dog you are. But he’s never going to give her to you. Not even now. Not while he can marry her off to benefit the family. You are stupid if you believe that.”

Clint had to give the bastard credit. He always knew the worst thing to hit someone with, how to strike at their deepest fears. He was a fucking lawyer. He’d been doing it to Nat their entire marriage. On nights when Clint was out there in the night, waiting to do Steve’s bidding, he’d reflect on the stories she told him. On the cutting things her husband would say to her.

Clint shrugged. He wasn’t about to play the game.

“Sounds like he already has someone in mind,” Clint lied casually. “Yeah, she needs to heal up. She looks worse than you do. But once she’s on the mend, I imagine Steve will marry her off again.”

The smirk on the other man’s mouth faded. Banner hadn’t expected him to say that.

“What?” was all Banner could say.

Clint folded his arms across his chest, standing over the bastard. “Steve can’t have Nat in his house for long. Not with his own little wife. It’s not an ideal situation. I’m sure you understand.”

Banner’s snort was an ugly sound. “Steve can’t handle his wife. If he knew how to deal with her, we wouldn’t be here, now would we?”

“Sounds like you’re blaming all this on Mrs. Rogers,” Clint pointed out.

“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” Banner demanded. “Steve doesn’t usually make time to do welfare checks on his sister. He could handle women just like I handled his sister. Until he married her. I showed up at his house and that little bitch met me at the door. I knew it was her that sent him to my house. She wasn’t even trying to hide it.”

“Then you get why Steve can’t let Nat linger.” Clint tried to keep the emotion out of his voice, to sound like he didn’t care.

Banner’s mind looked to be going a mile a minute. Anger flashed in those dark eyes as he studied Clint hard.

“I hope she gets what she deserves,” Banner’s tone took on a hint of bitterness. “Honestly, Nat played you and me both. She didn’t love either one of us… Ungrateful bitch.”

Clint’s fist flew before his mind could override it, striking Banner’s unbruised eye. Banner somehow managed to stay in the chair, a grin on his face when he returned his gaze to his rival.

“I knew you were full of shit,” Banner called him out.

“I’m full of shit?” Clint demanded. “I’m not the one that’s cast out, am I?”

“I served Steve well,” Banner shot back. “He couldn’t have had a better consigliere and he made a mistake. A huge mistake.”

Clint didn’t like the way he said that with a sly grin playing along his split lip.

“Now he’s got another consigliere,” Clint pointed out. “He’ll be fine.”

Banner dropped his head, shaking it in frustration. What was he not saying? That Banner was still bitter about how his marriage ended? That was obvious. But somehow, he didn’t think that Nat was the sole issue here. Why had Banner still stayed close by?

“Something else you wanted to say?” Clint asked meaningfully.

It pissed him off that Banner was now trying to ignore him. It had always pissed him off that Banner considered himself better than Clint. But that was nothing compared to how he’d treated Nat, the woman he knew Clint would die for.

Anger rose as Clint grabbed a fistful of Banner’s hair and yanked his head back sharply, making the man look at him. And Banner did look him in the eye, pure defiance flashing in those cold depths. But he wasn’t saying anything.

With his left fist, he punched Banner in the nose. The second time he felt the cartilage give beneath his knuckles. Blood gushed from the man’s nose, but he stoically kept silent. Clint struck his chin, his injured eye. Banner muffled his cries of pain, fighting to be silent.

The glee Clint expected to feel at such a moment just wasn’t there. Banner wasn’t begging him for mercy. He wasn’t cowering as Clint imagined he would. That meant the fucker had some hope he was hanging onto. He thought about Banner’s senator brother.

“Counting on your brother to save you?” Clint asked, smirking. “I wouldn’t count on that.”

Clint released his hair. Banner held Clint’s gaze. “Yeah?”

The bastard didn’t look concerned. Yet.

“Yeah,” Clint said. “He’s going to go through some things.”

Banner looked only mildly concerned. “Is he?”

Pissed off, Clint leaned down to get in his face. “You’re not worried about that girl that died on your brother’s boat last summer?”

Banner rolled his eyes. “Why should I be?”

“Someone out there knows her death wasn’t an accident,” Clint informed him. “And they have proof.”

Of all the things he expected the fucker to do, laughing wasn’t one of them. It irked Clint so fucking much, he reared back and punched Banner again, the blow knocking him off the chair. Banner was still laughing.

Trying not to let frustration best him, Clint turned back to one of the two men he brought with him, silently watching from behind him. “Give me those pliers.”

Clint didn’t take his eyes off Banner, gripping the metal tool once it was placed in his hand. The man trying pull himself off the floor with his hands bound before him did look less amused. His dark eyes were on the pliers Clint held.

Wait. Banner wasn’t worried at all about his brother’s scandal, the only reason Steven didn’t make him dead for what he did to Nat. But he was worried about the pliers.

“Put his ass back in the chair,” Clint told his men. He watched as they rushed over to Banner and none-too-gently hauled him back into the chair. “Tape him to it.”

That had Banner’s attention. Wildly, he watched as one of his guys pulled a thick roll of duct tape from his pocket. Pulling up a strip, it made a loud familiar sound.

“Wait,” Banner was worried now. “What are we doing here?” They started taping him to the chair and Banner was shouting “hey!” and “stop!”

It occurred to Clint that Banner wasn’t worried about his brother’s potential scandal. That was in the future. He was worried about having his teeth pulled out of his mouth one by one in the next few minutes. The time frame…

“What did you do, Banner?” Clint moved closer once his guys finished taping him to the chair. “What’s coming?”

Banner was silent. Now he was scared. Holy fuck. What was going on?

“Hold his head,” Clint ordered.

Banner shouted “No-no-no-no-no-no-no!” Smart enough to know what was going to happen.

Grabbing Banner’s upper lip, he pulled it painfully back from the man’s teeth.

“You know something,” Clint told him. “For every minute you don’t tell me, I’m pulling out one of these pearly whites. Got it?”

Banner didn’t immediately speak. Clint took the pliers, using them to grip one of Banner’s upper front teeth. Thrashing in the chair, Banner grew more desperate by the second, drooling and yelling “no!” at turns while Clint’s men held him steady.

“What’s coming?” Clint asked.

“I d-don’t know,” Banner managed around the tool and with Clint holding his lip. “Don’t!”

Clint pulled the tooth out with a quick yank while Banner screamed, thrashing in the hold of his men. Blood flowed from the hole where his tooth had been, from his nose, and his eyes were wide when Clint tossed the tooth casually away.

“Let’s try this again,” Clint said calmly, fear of what he didn’t know battling with the satisfaction of torturing the miserable fuck.

Clint aimed for the other front tooth when Banner cried, “Wait!”

He paused, but he didn’t move the pliers. Banner appeared desperate.

“Barnes knows!” Banner yelled.

Those two words had Clint taking a step back, taking the pliers with him. “Barnes knows what?”

Clint was all too afraid he knew the answer to that.

“Everything!” Banner cried. “You pulled my fucking tooth out!”

At Clint’s nod, his men stepped back. He got in Banner’s face again.

“What do you mean everything?” Clint wanted to know. “You been a rat all along, Banner? Is that it?”

“Hey, I’m not the rat,” Banner told him, blood filling his mouth.

“Then how do you know anything about Barnes?” Clint didn’t like this. Was something going to happen tonight? Had someone told Barnes all about their plan. This is bad. “If you’re not the rat, who is?”

Banner was shaking his head, blood running down his face, staining his clothes. Forcefully, he spat out blood.

“They’ll kill me,” Banner told him, worry flooding the man’s expression.

Clint had to laugh at that.

“What do you think I’m going to do?” Clint demanded. “You were just handed the woman I love, and I had to watch that shit, all these years. I got to watch while you betrayed her, laid hands on her.”

“Betrayed her?” Banner yelled. “She betrayed me! She never gave me a chance. I was her husband. I would have done anything for her. And she didn’t care. She was off fucking you every chance she got. Faithless bitch!”

“I will pull every goddamn tooth out of your head if you say another fucking word about her,” Clint promised, waving the pliers in front of his face. “What does Barnes know and how does he know it?”

“I wasn’t involved with any of it… until Steve broke off from Katerina,” Banner said after a moment.

And that was before Steve got married.

“Paulina’s sister, right? The one you’ve been fucking?” Clint asked.

Banner spit at Clint in anger, the bloody lob barely grazing Clint’s shoe. “I wouldn’t have fucked anyone else if I have a loyal, loving wife.”

“What did I say?” Clint’s grip tightened on the tool in his hand. “And?”

“After Steve cut her off, Kat took up with Barnes,” Banner explained.

Clint was already shaking his head. “Kat wouldn’t have known anything,” Clint told him. “Steve wouldn’t do that.”

“But I did,” Banner admitted. “One night I got to Paulina’s place and Kat dropped by. Barnes was with her.”

Holy shit.

“Barnes wasn’t trying to get me to rat anyone out,” Banner explained slowly. “But he made me an offer.”

Clint was sure he did. “What offer?”

“Barnes told me he was looking for a new consigliere,” Banner said, defiance shining in his dark eyes. “Everybody knows Petruzello is going to retire soon. Hell, he’s been with them for decades… Barnes told me he could use a guy like me. He saw me for my talent. Saw how I was being treated over here.”

“How you were treated?” Clint’s voice rose. “Are you fucking kidding me? What were you fucking lacking? You had Nat and she’s all I want in this world. You had a beautiful fucking house, nice cars, nice whore. Lot of money. Explain it to me.”

“You know what else I had?” Banner grumbled. “I had competition. And no matter how many fucking times I begged Steve to get rid of your sorry ass, he refused.”

“But Barnes was willing to, right? Is that why I got shot?” Clint shook his head, barely holding his rage down. “You must have been so fucking disappointed that I lived.”

“I was.” Banner’s glare stayed on him.

“So then what? In your anger, you beat the shit out of Nat? Is that it? You took it out on her?” Oh, something Clint said had angry color flooding Banner’s face. “Am I wrong?”

“I wouldn’t have laid a hand on my wife,” Banner said indignantly. “Not without good reason.”

“There is no good reason to hit a woman,” Clint shot back. “Never… It also wasn’t the first time.”

“How would you have felt?” Banner yelled, struggling with the tape holding him in the chair. “It was bad enough that she cheated on me with you. She never got fucking over you. Then she turns up pregnant… I completely lost it.”

The back of Clint’s hand flew, sending Banner’s head spinning. But he wasn’t backing down. With an angry glare, Banner said, “You think you would have done better? If it had been my baby, you wouldn’t have done the same?”

It took everything in him not to just shoot the bastard. Banner knew Nat was pregnant and he knew it wasn’t his. Rage clouded his mind but as he blew out an exhale, Clint tried to focus. The pregnancy had been the reason he’d beaten his wife the first time.

Why did he do it the second time?

“Did you agree to beat Nat that night for a diversion?” Clint asked him calmly. “Because the very next day, Steve called a meeting of the families. The very next day, Hansen attacked Steve’s house. He tried to take Steve’s wife. And that was your job, wasn’t it? You beat Nat to try and draw Steve out. Barnes would have known Steve only leaves the house now for business talks. Am I right?”

The corners of Banner’s mouth tipped up as he glared at him. The answer to Clint’s question was in that self-righteous smirk.

Barnes wanted Steve’s position that badly. They’d underestimated him.

“What was in it for you?” Clint had to know. “Besides taking over as Barnes consigliere. What?”

“What the fuck do you think?” Banner shot back. “The plan was for him to take Steve off the board and you with him. I’d be his new consigliere and Nat would be mine. No more interference from her brother or you. She would finally, totally be just mine.”

Swallowing back the sting of bile in the back of his throat, Clint stared him down. “Is that the plan for tonight, Banner? Is tonight Barnes’ second shot at it?”

But then it occurred to him, Banner had been tossed out. He wasn’t there when they made the plan for tonight. He had no way of knowing what was coming down. Not while his only ties left to the Rogers’ family was Paulina.

The bullet came out of nowhere, piercing Banner’s forehead and sending his head sharply back.

Clint dropped the pliers and hit the floor as another shot from behind him hit one of his men in the head. Fuck! Finding cover behind a stack of shipping pallets, Clint pulled out his .45 and began trading fire with whoever the hell it was. The other soldier he brought with him stayed behind him.

Popping up, Clint fired shots at where he thought the shooter must be. One of his bullets found the target, the rough cry sounding familiar. The sound of retreating steps had Clint sprinting in that direction, trying like hell to see who exactly who the fucker was.

If it wasn’t the rat in their family, and Clint suspected it was, it was one of Barnes men. By the time Clint reached the old rusty warehouse door, whoever had been there was gone.

Clint’s mind spun. Barnes was coming after them tonight. His first responsibility was to get to Steve and let him know they were in a world of shit right now.

His heart had him making a different choice. With shaking, blood-covered hands, Clint pulled out his phone and called Nat.

“Clint?” She still answered the phone quietly, as she had the last several years when no one was supposed to know they were talking. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, baby,” he assured her. “But we have a very big problem right now and I need you to do something for me.”

“Okay,” she said.

“When I end this call, I’ve got to tell Steve that we’ve been ratted out,” Clint explained quickly. “Barnes knows what we planned and that puts all of us in danger.”

“Oh my, God,” she whispered.

His heart squeezed in his chest. His Nat had been through so much.

“I don’t want you to worry about that,” Clint told her. “I want you to go get your sister-in-law. Right now. Get her out and take her to your mother’s sewing room. I need you to promise me you’ll do this as soon as you get off the phone.”

“Clint, I’m n-not dressed,” she said in a shaking voice. “I’m in pajamas—”

“You’re not going to take the time to get dressed, baby,” Clint said firmly. “You’re going to do what I tell you. Get the two of you in there as fast as you can. Okay? Do this for me?”

A moment passed. Finally, she said, “Yes… I’ll go now.”

“I love you,” he told her. “Always remember I love you so much.”

“I love you,” she said through tears. “Please stay alive. I can’t l-lose you now.”

Clint didn’t know what they were facing. He really didn’t.

“You won’t lose me,” he told her. “Now go. Get to that room and stay there.”

“Clint!” His other man yelled to get his attention as he pocketed his phone. “Incoming. Look like Barnes’ men.”

Taking a deep breath, Clint got ready for whatever was coming. And he had every intention of getting back to Nat.

***

The sound of the key rattling in the doorknob of your room pulled your attention from the book you really weren’t reading. It was a little early for dinner but maybe Dyson had a reason for arriving early. You knew the family had plans tonight. Dangerous plans.

You didn’t expect Nat to scramble into your room like a scared mouse, swallowed by the dark green bathroom she wore over her pajamas. Her eyes were wide, and fear reflected from those depths.

Something was very wrong here.

“Nat?” You rose from the bed, and she dashed over to you, her hands twisting around the old-fashioned ring of keys like nervous birds.

“Clint called me,” she whispered. “H-he said something about us being ratted out and… he wants me to come get you and take you to my mother’s sewing room.”

“What?” You didn’t understand. “Nat, slow down. Is he talking about—”

“Please,” she begged you. “He wouldn’t have told me to do this if things weren’t really, really bad. We have to go.”

You were shaking your head.

Nat was trying to pull you by the arm. “Why are we going to your mother’s sewing room?”

“Please, just come with me,” Nat begged.

“Okay,” you told her. “Just a minute.”

You wore a sweater with jeans, quickly pulling on a pair of ankle boots. You sprinted for the closet, pulling out the cloth bundle that concealed the handgun Dyson left you. Slapping a loaded clip into the 9 mm, you shoved the other clips and boxes of ammo into a tote bag, carrying it out with you as you went back to Nat.

Her green eyes were wide on the gun in your hand. “How do you have that?”

“Dyson,” you told her. “Let’s go.”

Instead of leading you down the stairs to the rest of the house, Nat led you the other way. You passed her bedroom, the other guestrooms. She stopped in front of what you thought was a linen closet. She opened the door, and the neat shelves of bedding and towels confirmed your suspicions. When she pushed a button on the wall, the shelf and the wall behind it moved, sliding away to reveal a small chamber behind it.

A secret room?

Nat pushed another button and the shelf and wall slid back into place, closing the two of you in a darkened room that was about the size of a child’s bedroom. In her defense, there was a small table with a very old sewing machine on top of it sitting off to the side and a dressmaker’s dummy next to it. There were cobwebs everywhere, like no one had been in the room for years. There was a small oval window, filtering sunlight to brighten the room.

“Oh,” Nat said, kneeling by the sewing machine and pulling a box from under it. There was a small oil lamp and a cigarette lighter. Setting it next to the sewing machine, she lit the lamp to brighten up the room around you.

“So, a sewing room?” you asked, tucking the gun in the waistband of your jeans at your lower back.

Nat nodded. “It really was once. I think our grandmother or great-grandmother actually sewed in here.”

“With a secret door?” You smiled.

“That was put in later,” Nat explained. “By my father. I guess something happened when we were kids that got him thinking. He decided we needed a room that no one else knew about in the house to hide. You know, us and Mom. Sometimes whatever illegal thing he wasn’t supposed to have. He was very proud the feds never found it.”

You nodded. That made sense. But you really needed to know what was going on.

“Okay, now that we’re here,” you spoke quietly, “what did Clint say? What’s going on?”

Taking a seat on the padded bench seat by the sewing machine, Nat took a deep breath. You didn’t like the way her hands shook in her lap.

“He just called me and told me that we’d been ratted out,” she told you. “He said Barnes knew our plans and that put us all in danger.”

Shock and fear had you staring at her. Dyson told you that those plans were dangerous to begin with and now Barnes knew them? You’d all been ratted out?

“Wait, he told you to get to the sewing room?” you asked.

“No, he told me to come get you and for us both to come here.”

Things were serious then. Fuck.

“Did Clint tell you anything that was planned?” you asked. “Anything at all?”

Nat shook her head. “I wouldn’t understand if he did. I’m just so afraid… if something happens to him., I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Try not to worry,” you told her. “Clint’s not going anywhere now that you’re together.”

Her lips quivered like she wanted to smile but was afraid to.

“I hate this,” she said quietly. “I always have. This business they are in. I know it’s how I’ve had a roof over my head and all the nice things I’ve had in life. But it’s so terrifying to know it can all be gone in the blink of an eye. I remember sitting in here with my mother and Steve a couple of times when we were kids. It wasn’t just knowing we were in danger. It was not knowing anything.”

Your parents had been part of that world too. You’d been spared that. Everyone thought you were disfigured, kept off to the side because of it. If you’d ever been in any danger before Steve came into your life, you weren’t aware of it.

Now? You understood it.

“We know some things,” you told her. “Apparently someone ratted us out. I have a pretty good idea of who that is.”

“Who?” she asked.

“It’s Neal,” you told her. “I’m sure of it. I don’t know how or why but it’s him.”

Nat snorted. “For all we know, it’s Bruce.”

“It’s possible,” you told her. “He probably has a hand in it. I mean, we know he has a link to Barnes. Kat and her sister.”

Her green-eyed gaze never left you.

“But, no offense, he’s a lawyer,” you told her. “He might have gone to Barnes when Steve got you out of that house. But what does he really know that would benefit Barnes? He’s not a soldier. Not part of their plans… But Neal?”

Just the thought of the damage the man could do flooded your mind. He would have been part of planning whatever was supposed to happen tonight.

And Neal was flagrantly ambitious and arrogant. The way he conducted himself in your household with everyone but Steve? Especially you. What would have happened with Banner that day if Scott and Yelena hadn’t been there?

Clint was right. Everyone was in danger. Jesus. You had to think.

“Where was Clint when he called you?” you asked.

Nat shook her head. “I don’t know. All I know is that he said he and Scott were ‘running into town’ tonight. And that was when he left this morning.”

You didn’t miss the fear in her tone.

“Did you bring your phone?”  you asked her.

Nat pulled her phone and a charger from the pocket of her robe. You smiled when she handed it to you.

You tried texting Dyson first but got no response. Steve? You weren’t going there. He needed to have his head in the game and think you were safely tucked away.

Luca answered when you texted him, thinking you were Nat. If you could get him up there, to trust you, he might have the information you needed.

Luca: What you need, hon?

“What’s something you’d normally ask for, Nat?”

“Tea,” she told you. “But not for a couple of hours yet.”

Can you bring my tea up early, please? My nerves are bad today, you typed.

Luca: Sure. Give me bout 15 minutes.

Fifteen minutes exactly, Luca came up the stairs with the tray. He’d just reached her bedroom door when you approached him from the other direction. Luca’s dark eyes were wide on you.

“Shit,” he muttered.

You motioned for him to follow you. His expression was a study in reluctance, but he followed you back to the linen closet, waiting for you to open the door to the hidden chamber. Nat stood up when the two of you walked back in.

“What’s this?” Luca asked, handing the tray to Nat and focusing on her.

“Nat just did what Clint asked her to,” you told him. “He called Nat and told her to come get me and for us to come here. He said we’ve been ratted out.”

Luca scrubbed a hand over his lower face, concern bleeding into his expression. “Seriously?”

You nodded. “We don’t know where Clint is. Dyson wouldn’t answer me.”

Luca’s gaze on you was a wild mix of uncertainty and dread. You understood the position he was in.

“I’m not sure where Clint is,” Luca told you. “Dyson? Here in a while, he’s supposed to be meeting Neal. Something to do with Hansen.”

Your anxiety was consumed by fear then. “What? Oh, my God. Luca…” You took a deep breath, trying not to let fear get the better of you. “Luca, if Clint’s right and we’ve been betrayed, and I believe him, who do you think the rat is?”

“Just because you don’t like Neal doesn’t make him a rat,” Luca said calmly.

“I wasn’t there for tonight’s planning session,” you said. “But I’m guessing you were. If we’ve been ratted out, it had to be someone in that room. I know it’s not you or Dyson. I know it’s not Clint. Who else was there?”

“Scott and Neal,” he said.

“Do you really think Scott would do that?”

“Fuck,” Luca muttered, his answer telling you he didn’t believe any more than you did.

“Wait, where’s Steve?” you asked in a panic.

“Locked away in his study with the new consigliere.”

Nat set the tray with the tea on the floor at her feet, riveted to the conversation.

“He just got a new lawyer.” You shook your head. “Do you know him? Could he be a problem?”

“Nah, Murdock’s good people,” Luca told you. “Besides that, he’s blind so…”

If Luca didn’t suspect anything there, you’d trust his judgment.

“Where’s Scott?” you asked. Any of Steve’s trusted circle could be in danger right now or worse.

“Scott and Clint are supposed to be heading this way in the next couple of hours,” he said. “To meet with Steve about their part in this.”

“From the way he sounded, I don’t know if Clint will be there,” Nat whispered.

Steve and Luca were safe. You didn’t know where Clint and Scott were. And Dyson?

“We have to find Dyson and Clint,” you told him before turning your attention to Nat. “Clint called you first, to tell you there was trouble. If Steve’s down there meeting with his lawyer, Clint didn’t get in touch with him which means he’s in trouble.”

Nat’s face crumbled and you hugged her, eased her back down onto the padded bench.

You and Luca both tried Dyson and Clint, you on Nat’s phone. That he wasn’t answering Nat had your fear escalating.

When Luca’s phone rang, he answered immediately. “Scott? Hey, where are you?”

You couldn’t make out what Scott was saying. Luca nodded, mouthing “he’s fine.”

“Do you know where Dyson or Barton is?” Luca asked him, shaking his head.

“S’alright. I need you to get over here,” Luca told him. “Now.”

Luca ended the call, looking from Nat to you. “Scott don’t know where anyone is… Listen. You two need to stay right here, okay? I got to get to the boss and let him know we have a situation. We gotta find Dyson and Clint right fucking now.”

Nat buried her face in her hands, crying. You met his gaze squarely, nodding. Luca had trusted the two of you on what you knew. You were grateful.

“Stay in touch with me,” you told him.

“Will do,” Luca said, making his way out of the sewing room.

There was one more call you had to make. You knew Yelena’s number by heart. You didn’t know if she would recognize Nat’s number or if she’d answer, even if she did.

On the fifth tone, someone answered. “Natasha?” Yelena’s accented voice whispered.

“No, it’s me,” you said.

“You’re already out?” There was a pause then. “I’m so sorry about—”

“I am so sorry about what happened,” she said in a rush. “I’m so sorry—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you cut her off. “But we’ll talk about that later. Are you safe? Dyson said you were safe and with friends.”

“I’m safe,” she told you. You could hear the smile in her voice. “I promise.”

“Do you have any idea where he is right now?” you asked.

“Dyson? No,” she said. “Why? Is something wrong?”

You heard the same fear you felt in her words. “Yes, and we don’t know where he is. Or Clint.”

“Clint?” Yelena asked. “I talked to him earlier. I gave him some intel on where he could find Banner.”

Oh, shit.

“Can you give me the location?” You needed it. “He might be in trouble.” You told her how he called Nat and what he’d said.

“Where is Neal?” Yelena asked.

“Not sure, but I’m told his part of the plan was to go with Dyson to see Hansen,” you explained.

“Neal is the traitor,” she said gravely.

“I know. And we can’t let him kill Dyson.”

“We won’t,” she assured you. “Does Steve know?”

You had to laugh at that. “He soon will. Luca’s going to talk to him.”

“Let me know the second you get any leads on Dyson,” she told you. “We will go find Clint.”

You didn’t know who we were. But you trusted her.

“Thank you.”

“Stay where you are,” she told you. “With Nat. For now.”

You couldn’t promise her that, but you also didn’t want to mess with her head.

“I will,” you said. “Please be careful.”

***

Yelena ended the call, walking back into the living room of the little cabin where Dyson had stashed her for safety. Dyson’s friends, who needed a place to lay low from some trouble they found themselves in, were scattered across the room.

Clay and Aisha were watching something on the History Channel, drinking beer and eating popcorn. Pooch and Cougar were still playing cards. Only Jensen looked up from his laptop to see her return.

“What’s up?” Jensen asked.

“Dyson maybe in trouble,” she told them.

And that was all she needed to say. Now that she had everyone’s attention, she filled them in on the details. Like her, there wasn’t a lot they wouldn’t do for their mutual friend.

Clay was a strategist and didn’t take him long to come up with a plan of action.

“Three of us are going to the location where we sent Barton,” he said. “Three of us are going to Hansen’s place.”

She didn’t miss the distaste in his voice when he said the name Hansen. She wasn’t the only one the bastard had fucked with over the years.

“Yelena, you take Pooch and Cougar and find Barton,” Clay said. “I’ll—”

“No,” Yelena cut him off. “I’m going to Hansen’s.”

Aisha and Clay exchanged a worried glance. “You sure about this?” Clay asked her.

Yelena nodded. After everything Dyson had done for her, for all of them, she wanted to be there to protect him if she could. If anything happened to him, it would devastate her.

It would devastate her boss. And Yelena had no intention of having to tell Mrs. Rogers that anything happened to Dyson on her watch.

Clay nodded. “Aisha, take Pooch and Cougar and go find Barton. Yelena, you and Jensen are with me.”

PS: Just on my fic posts, I’m adding a tip function. In honor of the kitty we just lost in February, I’m donating everything to our local animal shelter. Tips are not, will never be, and have never been expected. But if you feel so inclined, thank you. 🙏

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[wntrs0ldier]

AN OFFER II · 05

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 3,3k warnings: mafia, language, violence (graphic descriptions), minor character death, mature themes, dark themes, angst, smut, toxic behavior, blood and injury, abuse and sexual abuse, hurt/comfort,

Taking his eyes off you, Bucky turned to Sam. “Go get Clint,” he ordered, his voice — just like his stare — lacking a particular tone; it was emotionless, perhaps with a hint of cooling anger, the seed of which got there completely naturally. Then he looked at Steve, his jaw clenched again. “Get her out of here.”

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The exhibition, crowning the last few months of your work, was going surprisingly well for something you had initially occupied yourself with just to pass the time.

It all started with Bucky’s absence and now he was there — keeping his hand on your lower back, stroking it in a comforting manner, he made you forget about all the things that could go wrong. You watched some people admiring the artwork you’ve collected, exchanged some words, shook some hands, and Bucky didn't leave your side for a second. 

At some point, Tracy appeared right next to you, touching your shoulder to get your attention. “There’s a call from Connie. She couldn’t reach your phone, so she called the gallery. I put her through to your office.”

Your friend, whom you had fortunately dissuaded from the idea of using her leave to attend the exhibition, was currently enjoying her free time on a real vacation. It certainly would have been nice to have her around, but it wasn't worth it; besides, you had solid support coming from not only your husband, but also Steve, Sam and Clint.

“Thanks,” you said, and when Tracy left, you turned to Bucky to hand him your glass with the wine you haven’t had the chance to finish. “I'll be back in a few minutes. An hour tops,” you informed, smirking. 

The corner of Bucky’s mouth quirked up. “Sure. Got any knives I could juggle?” He raised his eyebrows. “You know, to entertain your guests.”

You sized him up, your eyes narrowed. “Do you really know how to juggle..?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged casually. “I can show you somewhere a little more private.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you laughed, smacking his shoulder. 

Bucky’s mouth stretched into a much wider smile as your laugh reached his ears. “I’ll be waiting here,” he promised. Still grinning, you cupped his face and kissed him, then went to the stairs. 

Having hurried into your office, you got to the phone. “Connie?” you spoke with undisguised excitement. 

“Hi, babe,” Connie giggled. “How’s the exhibition? How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, the exhibition is fine…” you sighed, resting your free hand on the desktop. “I have a lot of buyers, actually. It's better than I thought.” 

“Is one of those buyers your filthy rich husband?” she asked, and if she was here, right beside you, she would probably pinch you teasingly. 

A bright smile came to your lips. “He’s banned from doing that, and is here only for support.���

“That’s really great,” when you heard that, you also heard her smile fade away. “I'm sorry I can't be there for you.”

“Oh, come on, Connie. We talked about this. You deserve a rest, especially from those uptight bankers.” 

Connie said something else, but you got distracted by the sound of the door opening. You looked over your shoulder, and to your surprise, saw Adrian. 

“Y/N? Can you hear me?”

“Uh, Connie? I’ll call you back, okay?” Without waiting for your friend's answer, you hung up the phone. “Can I help you..?” you asked flatly, turning to Adrian. 

“Have you made a decision? About Paris?”

Your eyebrows rose; you secretly hoped that Adrian would eventually use his common sense, and as a result, realize how ridiculous the idea was. “I told you already. I can’t come to Paris with you.”

In a moment of weakness it crossed your mind that, perhaps, you should agree for the sake of the gallery. But Bucky was right — you couldn't sell Adrian your time; not when he was pushing the limits that way, treating you like an object he could do whatever he liked with.

“You are making a mistake. Big mistake,” he stated slowly, and just as slowly covered the space between the door and the desk.

You understood that you were just a woman — a fragile, weak woman, left alone with an offended man; the only thing in that room more fragile than you was only Adrian's pride. And yet, when he approached you, you didn't even flinch, didn’t take your stern gaze off him. 

“Are you sure, Y/N?” he questioned, giving you the last chance to change your mind. “Are you sure what you are doing? You are rejecting the opportunity of a lifetime. And it will cost you a lot. Can you afford it?”

He grabbed your forearm rapidly. Twisting it, turning your body, stiff and paralyzed with sudden panic, he pushed you, then pressed against the desk. The moment you collided with the hard surface, the air abruptly spilled out of your lungs, leaving you breathless, and the hit your chin took from crashing onto the desktop cut your bottom lip open; the rusty taste of blood settled on your tongue. 

One of Adrian's hands, which had wrapped around your forearm earlier, moved to the nape of your neck and pressed your torso down to the glass surface; his legs pinned your thighs to the edge, at the same time opening them for easier access. His other hand struggled with the fabric of your dress until it finally gave in and chose to betray you with a deep rip on the side.

“Adrian,” you grated, your breath heavy as you unsuccessfully tried to fight back, “get the fuck off me.” 

“Stand still, bitch,” he hissed, pressing your body even harder. You were losing your breath again, since your chest didn't have enough room. “And shut up.”

Struck by the sudden return of panic spreading at an alarming speed, you became numb when Adrian lifted your dress. His sickeningly cold and wet hands, touching your skin directly, without any additional layers protecting your body, turned your stomach sick. 

Until that moment, you were clinging to the hope that you could get out of it, or that Adrian would come to his senses. But now, it didn't appear that either of those things were going to happen; Adrian was going to get his way, he was going to take something from you, to break you.

Despite the shock of realizing what your fate would be, you swept your hand over the desktop to scan the area. In the process, you knocked down the phone, which Adrian considered to be continued attempts to fight, and eventually found something that, judging by its shape, was a stapler — an useless tool. A moment later, your hand felt something thin and oblong. A pen. Without much thought, you clenched it tightly in your palm and, pushed by adrenaline, blindly slammed your weapon into whatever happened to be behind you. All you knew was that it went in deep.

Adrian let out a loud, inhuman noise. The pressure of his hold loosened enough that you were able to break free. You darted to the door, and when you opened it, you ran into Bucky standing on the other side, clashing with his body. With your heart beating painfully fast, you lifted your gaze to him — your eyes still carried terror and distress, but there was a little room for relief as well.

In Bucky's case, it was different. With his forehead creased and his lips parted in devastation at what he had in front of him, he examined you closely — the ripped dress, the broken shoulder strap, the cut lip. His mouth snapped shut in a hard line, his jaw clenched so tightly that you could easily see that familiar twitch below his cheekbone, his nostrils flared. And although just a moment ago his eyes expressed so much — helplessness, fear, disbelief, disappointment — in a split second they became cold, dead. They passed you, as if you weren’t there anymore, and switched to Adrian.

Adrian looked around in a frantic search for an escape route, but the only exit from the office was blocked by you and Bucky. 

Having placed his hands on your arms, Bucky moved you carefully to the side, then made his way to Adrian. You immediately looked over your shoulder, and the rest of your body followed. 

“Hey, man, let’s talk-”

Bucky rammed into Adrian, and the kick that reached his stomach was charged with force so powerful that the man crashed into the cabinet standing against the wall. There was glass splattered everywhere — it came from the cabinet door, and from broken bottles; a few pieces cut Adrian's skin harmlessly, although it would have been better for him if one had killed him instantly. Bucky didn't wait for his target's reaction; he got on top of him, and, heedless of protests, pleas or pathetic screams, punched him in his face. Again, and again, and again.

“Stop. Please, don’t-” Adrian managed to choke out. He tried to defend himself, but was unable to block Bucky's blows, driven by tremendous power and speed. “I can pay you! I can pay you a-” 

To Bucky, his words meant nothing, his money worth nothing. What really mattered to him — what kept replaying in his head, boiling the blood in his veins, steering him to the only possible ending — was the fact that some man, no matter who he was or how much he had to offer, hurt his wife. He touched her. He touched in a way that made her too terrified to even cry. 

With each repeated punch, a little blood sprinkled out — Lancy spit and choked with it, coughing and screaming, but Bucky still didn't pay the slightest attention to it; he stopped feeling his own hand — the pain spread through his metacarpus at first, but that soon went numb — instead, he felt Adrian's bones break and crumble under his fist; he felt his nose snapping, his jaw cracking, his cheekbones collapsing. He felt only that; no shame, no regret, no remorse. Why should he, when none of these things were shown to you?

Bucky did what he had to do — he beat the life out of Adrian Lancy with his bare hands. But to Bucky, he was no Adrian, no young investor with a bright future. He was a scumbag that attacked his wife and before that, put her on a short leash. 

Breathing hard and slowly, Bucky stood up. For another brief moment he stared at the lifeless body, feeling a little less disgust. Despite the fact that instead of his face, Adrian now had a bloody, still steaming hole, he no longer evoked such disgust in Bucky.

He turned around. Blood covered his hands, especially the right one; crimson specks now decorated his face and his white shirt. You didn't feel the slightest need to run away, and if any shiver ran through your body, it was a shiver of admiration, of delight. 

You didn't know when exactly, but at some point Steve and Sam showed up; Steve stood right next to you, Sam stayed somewhere behind your back. 

Taking his eyes off you, Bucky turned to Sam. “Go get Clint,” he ordered, his voice — just like his stare — lacking a particular tone; it was emotionless, perhaps with a hint of cooling anger, the seed of which got there completely naturally. Then he looked at Steve, his jaw clenched again. “Get her out of here.”

You've lost track of time; you haven't checked it once since you and Bucky separated. Staring stubbornly, and without any purpose, at the darkness outside the bedroom window, you stood frozen, numb, wearing his t-shirt, that wrapped around you like a safe embrace.

Your skin was still aching from the almost burning water and excessive rubbing — you tried to deeply wash off Adrian’s scent and touch, but you could’ve sworn you still felt him. His smell — unpleasantly strong, hitting your nostrils aggressively — lingered in the air, and his hands, cold, sweaty, driven by evil intentions, remained on your body. A repulsive tingling plagued the places where he touched you, making you sick.

The door opened carefully, letting in some warm light from the corridor. You turned away from the window; Bucky entered the room, and then, keeping his eyes on you, came closer with a cautious step. And this time he scrutinized your figure intently.

In contrast to his shirt, there was no trace of blood on his face or hands. He washed it away along with the memory of that man, so it wouldn't clutter his mind. Instead, he knew that he would never forget that he had failed you; that he should have protected you better.

Without any words, you started unbuttoning his shirt; your fingers worked quickly and smoothly — you, too, wanted as soon as possible to get away from everything that reminded you of the events of a few hours earlier. When you were done, and the shirt tails opened, showing Bucky's tensed stomach muscles, you cupped his face and pulled him in for a kiss. By instinct, he placed his hands on your hips and pressed his body against yours, his tongue slid into your mouth, and despite your lip stinging, you eagerly accepted it, meeting it with yours. You already knew the way you could wash Adrian off you.

Bucky bent his knees to lower himself a bit; he moved his hands under your ass to lift you, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist. He walked to the bed and sat down; Bucky, as well, was fully aware of what you needed. 

He laid down, pulling you with him — without breaking away from his lips, relishing the taste of the man who had done something so thrilling for you, to the point of intoxication, you began rubbing against his crotch. Both of you breathed heavily into each other's mouths as your core, now wet and throbbing with desire, grinded on Bucky's bulge. But it wasn't enough — you needed him inside you, immediately.

You backed away just enough to be able to unzip his pants. He raised his hips, lifting you along with them, in order to slip his pants lower. At that moment, neither of you thought about taking the time to remove all your clothes; it was only about gratification, about forgetting, about pleasure.

You rose, wrapped your hand around his engorged cock and guided it to your entrance, then sank down on it slowly, a quiet, breathy moan leaving your lips. At first, Bucky looked at you with concentration, as if making sure you could handle it without his help, and when he got the proof, he relaxed slightly. Feeling your pussy swallow more and more of his cock, he groaned, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, but soon returned his gaze to you. He had to — there was nothing that could draw him away from the pleasure of watching you. 

You grabbed the ends of the t-shirt you were wearing and stripped it off. Seeing your body almost in all its glory, feeling it on his own, Bucky pressed his lips together, the devotion and worship visible in his stare only deepened.

Now, it was you who had the control you so badly needed to regain; you needed to regain yourself, and that's what seemed to be the best way to do it. Bucky's dick was plunging into you with your every move, penetrating you, hitting that sweet spot just right, but it was you who was fucking him. The bliss overpowered you enough that, forgetting the previous damage, you sank your teeth into your bottom lip. Bucky kept looking at you — your face overtaken by delight, your body moving up and down, the way you were riding him flawlessly — and the view alone would have been enough to make him cum.

Lifting his torso off the mattress, Bucky sat up. Your back arched as you propped your hands somewhere behind, your hips rolling in circles. Bucky slid his tongue between your breasts up to your neck, leaving a wet trail on your skin. With his hand supporting the back of your head, his mouth traveled all over your face and jaw, dropping sloppy kisses. 

Sensing some weakness creeping into the dynamic you had set up, Bucky returned on the mattress, taking you with him. And you let him, knowing it would be worth it. 

“Take my hand,” he whispered between heavy gasps. You followed his request without a second thought; the hand that only a few hours before had brought death was now holding yours. His fingers, intertwined with yours, reminded you that he was here for you; fully consciously, voluntarily, not just to satisfy some animal needs.

Bucky's spare arm embraced your back, pressing you as tightly as possible to his body. His hips began to move fast but not violently, he was moaning softly, pumping his cock into your cunt. It was hard for you to concentrate on anything other than that delicious sensation of being filled like that — your brain was melting, making you nothing more than a body to fuck, but the same brain told you to look at Bucky. So you looked at his lips, parted, swollen, in that familiar deep shade of pink they had turned from biting, and finally decided to occupy them with yours, devouring his warm, plush mouth.

The space between you, if such a thing had any right to exist, was filled with Bucky's loud breaths and grunts, your soft whines and his name — the sweet promise that you belonged to him only.

Bucky went still, letting out an interrupted whimper. A single, strong shiver ran through his body, his seed filled you up. When his mind regained a small percentage of sobriety, he continued thrusting into you. You straightened up to the sitting position, but still held tightly to Bucky’s hand. The tension building in your stomach released — orgasm shook your body, sending it into strong spasms, throwing your head back, squeezing only a heavy exhale out of your lungs. 

Bucky looked up at you; he admired your jawline, your arched neck, the blue gemstone of the chain he gave you hanging in the middle of your collarbones, the single drop of sweat running down between your breasts. You were the most beautiful creation he had a chance to experience.

You gazed at him too, tears shimmered in your eyes, one of them dropped unexpectedly on Bucky's chest. 

He furrowed, and, gripped by a burning panic and worry looming over, sat up; one of his hands was instantly on your cheek, the other brushed a few strands of hair away from your face. “It’s okay,” Bucky said softly. Sniffling, you nodded, the tears still streaming down your cheeks. “It’s okay…” he repeated more to himself, his eyes studying your face nervously, helplessly. With his thumb, he quickly wiped off another teardrop that escaped from your eye, then leaned closer and kissed away a new one, the salty taste smeared on his lips.

“Nothing-” you sobbed, then took a deep, shuddering breath. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me,” you choke out. Bucky's jaw clenched, his eyes filled with sadness. Nothing like this has ever happened to you, and now that you were his wife, it did. On his watch. He was convinced that the blame lay with him, but he didn't admit it out loud — he wasn't going to make a victim of himself, all that mattered was you. “I shouldn't have let him-”

“No,” Bucky interrupted you strongly. He looked you in the eye. “It's not your fault, Y/N. You hear me?”

In response, you only sniffled again, dropping your gaze. “You told me something like this could happen. And I didn't listen.”

“Hey,” he said to get your attention, his voice gentle, but you didn't have the courage to bring your eyes back to his. Yet, with his hands on your cheeks, he made you look up at him. “Don’t do that. That fucker had no right to touch you even with his finger. That’s not on you.” 

You weren't sure about that — your mind wasn't in a place that would allow you to believe Bucky's assurances. The wounds were still too fresh, the memories too vivid. However, one thing you were sure of; you had washed Adrian off of you. Bucky's scent clung to your skin, but your body was also marked with his sweat, his spit, his cum.

You started crying all over again — you needed this kind of purification. Bucky got that, so he wrapped his arms around you and pressed to his chest. “You’re safe now,” he whispered, stroking your hair.

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

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[crazyunsexycool]

Heart's Munition

Chapter 8

Pairing: Mob boss!Steve Rogers x Maid!reader

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: crying, fluff-ish

A/N: I realized that I've had this written for weeks and hadn't shared it. We see some of the aftermath from the previous chapter...

Series Masterlist

Sharon’s heels hit the tarmac at a steady rhythm. As she walked toward her waiting private jet she took her phone out of her purse and called to give a much awaited update. The phone rings three times before someone answers. 

“Hey, darling cousin.” Sharon smiles the closer she gets to the steps of the plane. “Everything seemed to have gone well. From the information we got it seems like dear old Steve has a thing for his maids so I made sure to send a few guys to the place of his newest hire. She was a cute little thing, couldn’t even put up a fight. Your contact also made sure to scare her into spying on Steve for us.” 

“What about the other one?” 

“The other one?” 

“Yes, there are two maids.” There’s some shuffling of papers on the other end while Sharon stops and waits for an answer. “The other one’s name is Y/N. Apparently Steve has been more than attentive with her.” 

Sharon rolls her eyes and sighs. “Peggy when you gave me this job you only mentioned Regina. I don’t have any intel on this Y/N person.” 

There’s absolute silence on the other end of the line. It annoys Sharon to no end to have to run these little errands for her cousin. As if she wasn’t an important member of the Carter family.

“We’ll figure something out for her later then. What else do you have?” 

“The only one I haven’t heard from is Rollins. He was supposed to go into Rogers’ home, find anything he could on where they were keeping Beck and whatever else he could on your ex.” 

“Sharon, you’re the only one who cares about Beck. He got careless, whatever happened he brought it on himself.” Peggy responded rather bored. “The only thing I wanted was information on Steve’s businesses.”

“Hmm. Well I’ll see you in a few hours and we can discuss next steps. Bye cousin.” Sharon responds and hangs up not waiting for a reply. 

She’s greeted at the bottom of the stairs by the pilot and he ushers her up the steps. Just at the entrance the one flight attendant is waiting to take her bag. She smiles at Sharon although it seems strained, Sharon doesn’t seem to care. Handing over her bag Sharon walks in to take a seat only to be surprised to find that she isn’t alone. 

“Who the hell are you?” She asked angrily at the person hiding behind a newspaper. 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know you were behind the break in at my place?”

“Steve-“ Sharon whispered out his name. She looked back at the exit only to find that it had been blocked by Bucky. 

“A little convenient that you showed up at my club just as someone was breaking in, wouldn’t you say?” 

“I only came by to offer you a business deal, a good one at that.” Sharon shifts side to side nervously. “One that you turned down. I don’t know why you’re here now though, I still have a few hours before the twelve hours are up.”

“I’ve changed my mind on the twelve hours. Why don’t you stay in New York for a while.” 

“I would but I have business to take care of elsewhere.” 

Steve stands up and closes in on Sharon. She has to tip her head back slightly to look at him. He smirks as he sees the fear in her eyes. 

“You aren’t going anywhere any time soon Sharon. Let’s go.” 

“Steve, you don’t hurt women.” Sharon says. “It’s your one rule. You won’t hurt me.” 

“You’re right, I won’t. But she will.” Steve juts his chin up so that Sharon has to look behind her. When she does she sees Nat standing besides Bucky and her blood runs cold. “You’re going to tell me everything I want to know.” Steve whispers in her ear before pushing her toward Nat. 

You had offered to go to Regina’s apartment to collect her things. Clint was with you since Steve needed Nat. You personally packed her clothes and were looking around to make sure you didn’t miss anything from the list Regina had given you. One thing she had asked for was a picture in a frame on her night stand but it was missing. The other thing you grabbed was a photo album from her closet. 

“You got everything?” Clint asked from the door.

“Yeah,” you said but you kept looking around. “It’s odd.” 

“What is?” 

“Regina mentioned she had a daughter but there is nothing in this apartment that would suggest a kid lived here.” 

“You think she’s lying?” Clint perks up. 

“I don’t know, maybe?” You look back at Clint with concern. 

“I can look into it if you want.” 

“I’ll let you know, maybe I’ll just ask her instead.”

“She could lie. Why don’t you let me do a little digging and I’ll tell you what I find. Then you can ask her, see if everything matches up with what she tells you.” Clint offers and while you head out of the apartment you think it over.

“Yeah, that makes sense. When can you let me know?” 

“I’ll tell you everything I find tomorrow morning.” Clint takes the bag from your hand and leads you out of the old building. 

“Ok that works.”

“Look at you becoming a little boss of the family.” He chuckles at your eye roll. 

“After last night I just want to make sure no one will try to hurt us again.” You defend yourself. “Regina is still new, what if the video and all that are a set up?”

“I thought you liked her?” Clint opens the car door for you. 

“I do but I won’t put my son’s well being above anyone else.” 

“That’s the right call. Boss.”  Clint chuckles.

You checked in on Elijah first. The events of the previous night had worn him down and he was taking a nap. Next you went down to the server’s quarters where Regina decided to take a room instead of a regular room on the second floor. She was wrapped up in a blanket. Tears streaked on her cheeks, her eyes red and puffy from all of the crying. The injuries had been bad and you knew she was in pain. You were sure that she wasn’t involved in the attack, instead she was just a victim.

“Hey.” You called softly. “May I come in?” 

She looked up at you, eyes slightly glazed over but she nodded. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Regina just shrugs. “Fine I guess.” 

“I got everything on your list. Well almost everything. I couldn’t find the picture you asked me for.”

“The one on my nightstand?” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” You say as you sit at the edge of the bed.

“This is bad.” Regina stands and starts pacing. “If it’s not there then it means those guys know what my daughter looks like. What if they try to hurt her?” She asks, panicked. 

“Hey, I’ll talk to Steve ok? In the meantime can we talk to whoever she’s staying with?” 

Regina sits next to you looking completely defeated. You place an arm around her shoulder and give her a side hug. 

“Her dad is a cop. He has a lot of connections so I only get supervised visitations with her. If he finds out this happened to me he’ll make sure I never see her again.” 

“You’re not alone anymore. We’ll figure it out.” 

Regina gave a small nod but it broke your heart to see her so defeated. You’d been where she was when Eli started getting sick. All alone with no one to depend on. You wouldn’t let Regina feel the same way. 

She leans her head against your shoulder and you let her cry until she’s tired herself out.

By the end of the day you were exhausted. Both physically and emotionally and you didn’t think you could push yourself any further. You shuffled your way down the hallways until you reached Steve’s office. On the other side of the door you could hear him barking orders at everyone. You’d never heard him so angry before and you reconsidered interrupting but the door flew open before you could leave. 

Sam and Bucky both stood there with matching angry expressions that seemed to melt when they saw you. They stepped to the side to let the others through first.

“Hopefully you can calm him down a bit.” Bucky says while nodding towards the office. 

“He’s extremely pissed off, if he says something out of line you tell us and we’ll handle him.” 

“Thanks Sam but I think I can handle him all on my own.” 

“Yeah you can.” Bucky smirks and sends a wink your way. 

You roll your eyes and walk past them. Steve is pacing back and forth while shouting at whoever is on the other side of a phone call before hanging up. He turns when he hears the door closing. You lean your back against it and watch him. Steve’s eyes soften when he sees you. Without saying much he walks over to you, places his hands on either side of you and tilts his head to the side.

“What’s going on? Are you ok?” He asks softly. It had barely been twenty four hours since everything had happened. 

You look up at him through your lashes and shrug. Steve gave you a small smile before pulling you in for a hug. You felt the tension in your shoulders felt away. After a minute of Steve holding you he pulls you toward the couch and when he sits he takes you with him. This time you don’t wait for Steve to prompt you, you tuck yourself into his side and rest your head on his chest. 

“It’s been an emotionally draining day.” You say after a minute. 

“What can I do to help you?” 

“This is nice.” You tilt your head back to find Steve already looking at you. 

His fingers are tracing patterns over your arm as he takes you in. 

“What else? You can ask me for anything and I’ll give it to you.” 

“I don’t know. Eli’s fed, bathed and clothed. I don't think there’s much else.” 

“That’s Elijah. As long as I breathe I’ll always make sure he has everything he needs and more. I’m talking about you. What do you want?”

You huff and hide your face in his chest. This felt like too much. You didn’t know what you wanted because for so long you only had what you needed, barely. Now here stood a man that wanted to give you everything you could ever dream of and you were completely blanking. 

“How about we start with something small?” Steve asks. “If you could do one thing right now, what would it be?”

“I’d like to actually have a bubble bath. I didn’t get to enjoy one last night.”

“We can do that.” 

“We?” You narrowed your eyes suspiciously and Steve laughed. 

“You can do that.” 

You pulled away and laughed. Steve only grabbed your hand and pulled you into his side again. This time his hand rested at your waist just to make sure he could keep you there for a little bit longer. He needed to see you, to touch you and hear your voice. He was losing himself in a fit of rage the longer he thought about what you’d gone through. 

“What else?”

You shrugged again.

“Ok, we can start small. Give me ten minutes and meet me in your room.” 

“Steve, I can make my own bath.” 

Steve hums in acknowledgment but gets up anyway, kissing your forehead in the process. 

“Ten minutes. Stay here.”

****

When the ten minutes were up you made your way up to your room. Steve had just walked out of your en-suite and nodded his head in its direction. You walked over and were surprised to find candles lighting the area. The scent of lavender filling the air and a glass of wine sitting on the counter. He’d also placed a few of your lotions and skin care items on the counter for you.

“You did all this for me?” Your voice is small as you asked. 

“Of course. Although this is just a little something, you deserve so much more. You do so much for everyone here. I thought I showed you how much we appreciate you.” 

You turn and smile at him. Steve sends a small wink your way and backs out of the bathroom doorway. 

“I’m going to hang out with Eli, join us when you’re done but take however long you’d like.” 

“Thanks Steve.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” 

You weren’t sure how long you spent in the bathroom but it was a needed break. After the water started getting cold you got out and did your skincare routine, then found a comfy pair of pajamas and you started to feel better. Once you were done you went to find Steve and Eli but they weren’t in Eli’s room. After searching their second favorite spot to hang out in, the balcony on the third floor you headed down. 

“Hey Peter.” You said as he stepped out of the hallway his room was in. 

“Hey, how are you doing?” 

“I should be asking you that.” 

“I’m ok, really.” He says after seeing the doubt on your face. “If you’re looking for Eli he’s in the theater room kicking Steve’s ass at Mario Kart.” 

You smiled before giving Peter a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done.” 

“You don’t have to thank me, we’re friends.” 

“I do. Call me if you need anything ok.” 

“Yeah, see you later.” 

You nod before heading down to the first floor. Even from the bottom of the stairs you could hear Elijah hollering from the room at the end of the hallway. 

“I win, again.” Eli celebrates by jumping on the couch.

“You’re cheating.” 

“I’m not. You just suck cuz you’re an old man.” Eli shoots back.

“I’m not old.” Steve defends himself.

“It’s ok mom sucks at this game too.” 

“Hey.” You said from the door and Eli yelped before falling on the couch and trying to hide from you. His fit of giggles didn’t help him stay hidden though.

“Wanna say that to my face you punk.” 

Eli laughed harder once you grabbed his foot and pulled him towards you. You tickled his sides until he begged for you to stop. 

“Ma,” he said between laughs. “It’s true.” He takes a deep breath. “You suck at Mario Kart.” 

“Well I want to play so set me up.” 

You look up to see Steve smiling in your direction. 

“I’m gonna kick your butt too, Rogers.” 

He raised his eyebrow and he smirked. “Are you now? I think I can beat you.” 

“Yeah right.” 

“Fine, let’s bet on it.”  Steve challenges.

“Ok, what do you get if you win?”

“If I win, you go out on a date with me.” 

Elijah looks back and forth between the two of you, a bit excited at the possibility. 

“And if I win-“ you think for a moment and smile. “You have to wear a maid's uniform for a whole day.”

“A maid uniform? Really?” 

You give him a mischievous smile. “I’m talking French style.” 

Steve immediately shook his head in disagreement. “No way.”

“Why? Scared you’re gonna lose?” 

Steve narrowed his eyes at you before grabbing the controller again. He extended his free hand in your direction. “Shake on it.”

“What do I get if I win?” Elijah piped up. 

You and Steve chuckled. 

“How about you get to pick three new video games.” Steve offers and it’s your turn to raise eyebrows.

“That’s too much.” 

“Nonsense. It’s a fair trade but I’m sorry to say kid, I’m winning this round.” 

“Sure.” Elijah says sarcastically. 

The three of you start playing, yelling over each other. At one point you try to knock Steve’s controller out of his hand only for him to try the same thing on you. You were laughing even though your character was dead last and kept getting hit with shells or banana peels. By the end of the race Elijah and Steve were sitting waiting for your character to finally cross the finish line. 

“Will you look at that?” The smug look on Steve’s face annoyed you but you still wanted to smile. 

“Yeah, yeah. Congratulations Rogers, you win.” 

“It seems like it. Don’t worry, I'll make sure you enjoy our date.” 

You roll your eyes at him.

“Can we watch a movie now?” Elijah asked with a sweet smile on his face.

“Of course we can bub.” Steve says.

“Can we have snacks ma?”

“Yeah, I’ll go get some things together. I’ll be right back.” 

Eli smiled and watched as you walked out of the theater room. The moment the door was closed he turned to look at Steve. The smile he had dropped and he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“What’s going on little man?”

“Where do you plan on taking my mom on a date? Is it somewhere nice? Because she deserves something nice. And you have to treat her like a princess because mom never does anything nice for herself.”

Steve smiles. Elijah reminds him so much of himself at that age. Steve was and still is just as protective of his mom as Elijah is protective of you. 

“Yeah, I was thinking of doing something really nice for her.”

“Like a surprise?” 

“Just like a surprise. Maybe you can help me.” Steve nods. 

“Ok, I’ll help you. But remember you have to treat her nice, ok? Or else we,” Eli motions between himself and Steve. “Are going to have a problem.” 

Steve stifles a chuckle because Elijah had a no nonsense look on his face. This was a man to man conversation and Steve could respect that.

“I’m not kidding. Sam and Bucky said they had my back.” 

“I promise I’ll do everything I can to treat her nice and make sure she’s happy and you too.”

“Ok good.” Elijah says just as you walk back in with a tray of snacks and drinks for the three of you.

“So what are we watching?” 

“Luca.” 

“Why am I not surprised?” You murmur as you settle down.

Eli cuddles into your side to watch his favorite movie. You smile while looking down at your baby and then your eyes move up to find Steve looking at you. He had a soft smile on his lips and he winked at you before turning back to the screen. 

He could get used to this and he’s making it his mission to make you and Eli a permanent part of his life.

Ch. 9

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[darkwaveho]

Damage Control

Summary: You went through hell just to get this vacation, and everything has been going smooth but how long will it last?

Parings: Mob!Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: 18+, violence, fluff, jealousy, hurt -comfort, angst, drug use, alcohol use, bondage, edging, orgasm denial, Oral, fingering, overstimulation, scissoring, tribbing, psychotic le$beans <3

A/n: This shit is long asf lmaoo so if you don't have time to read it in one sitting I would probably wait until you do, buut that's just me idk? never again (unless on A03) anyway, I hope you guys like it and thank you guys for being patient with me. I know I promised this chapter like a year ago but I'm happy to finally post this and get it out of my dusty drafts folder.😂💜

Damage Control Masterlist

During the whole vacation trip Natasha was insatiable, never letting you get an inch before her hands and lips were on you. she fucked you anywhere she could. That whole situation in the warehouse was a wakeup call for her and she would never take you for granted ever again.

“Tashh, enough.” you whine into the pillow she licks a long stripe up the center of your neck before she bites your skin. “That’s not what you said last night.” she drags her lips against your skin and drips her head down to lower each kiss further down your body. “In fact, I believe the words that came out of your mouth was ‘more, don’t stop, more." She mocks you with pride, smirking against your skin as she travels dangerously closer to your covered sex.

“Shut up.” you harshly yank her hair in retaliation. “Shut me up then.” she smirks after she bites your cheek in retaliation and tugs on your panties you move her hand away from the expensive lace. “I’m serious, I still need to get dressed. we both still need to get dressed” you correct yourself and huff beneath her. “We can stay in and go to the club another night.” you roll over on top of her as she was caught off guard. thinking she’s won you over she places her hands on your hips waiting for you to give her what she wants.

“We’re going.” you untangle her hands from your hips and walk into the bathroom to fully dress yourself. “You know you want to; I don’t even know why you’re denying it right now.”

“We’re not staying cooped up here in the penthouse tonight, Tash. we already missed our dinner reservations.”

“Well, whose fault is that? you’re wearing my favorite set. what’d you expect?”

“I expect you to have some self-control but we both know you don’t know what that is, don’t we?” you snap back at her not caring if you bruised her ego or hurt her for bringing the amber thing back up in her face. Okay you haven’t completely forgiven her; you still threw things up in her face any chance you got, and Natasha couldn’t do anything but sit there and take it. she sighs on the bed waiting for you to return from the bathroom.

She checks her phone for any updates on anything back home. nothing out of the ordinary, Yelena bugging her about when you’re coming back because she misses her bestie and Clint dealing with import deals. She also saw a couple of text messages from Melina. Once she saw the mention of his name on her screen, she shut the whole thing down completely. She needed to take her mind off of it. There was no way she was going out tonight, she wouldn’t be up to partying now.

“Why aren’t you dressed yet?” you stand in front of her on the bed hand placed on your hip annoyance present on your face. say lays there on the silk sheet in her button up blouse that she was too lazy to button up at the moment and no pants. she stands giving you a better view of the lace that pressed against her body. she nears you with hunger and an unwavering gaze. she was mesmerized. staring at you, admiring your beauty. there was also a look on her face that you know too well, something set her off and she needs a distraction, a way to release her emotions.

“Look at you baby, absolutely breathtaking.” she swiftly slides her hand under the tight dress running her hands against your soft skin. “Tash, no. I already said we were going.” you try to remain firm on your plans, she’s done this many times before to sway you into doing what she wanted.

“Please.” you groan from hearing her beg and she knows it’s a weakness of yours. you rarely ever heard her beg. after almost losing you forever she’s wanted nothing more than to keep you to herself in this penthouse. “I’ll make it up to you in the morning, sweet face. We can have our own party right here.” You stand firmly on your decision by unlinking her hands from around your waist. “No, I said we’re going, if you're not downstairs in 10 minutes I’ll just go by myself.” You grab your jacket and make your way to the door.

“You wouldn’t leave me.” She replies with confidence, maybe the old you wouldn’t have but the Amber situation brought things up in a new light you were tired of her shit. You had just as much if not equal power as she did; you were no longer going to let things slide so easily. “I guess you’ll find out in about…” You glance at your phone to view the time. “Seven minutes now.”

Natasha sighs heavily as you leave her alone in the penthouse. She really didn’t feel like going out and maybe she should’ve given you more details about why she had a change of heart but then that meant she had to talk about it. She also didn’t want to spend the remainder of the night alone, so she put the rest of her outfit together, but she didn't rush to finish. Ignoring the time frame, you set for her. She was deliberately ignoring the timeframe you set for her just to remind you of who was still in charge regardless of how sorry she was for her mistake. Natasha is the one calling the shots, at least that’s what she thinks.

She makes her way downstairs coming out of the building as the doorman holds the door open for her. She waits patiently still not seeing the driver's car. She calls you promptly and you let the phone ring on the first call just to be petty. Truth, is you left immediately after you made it downstairs. Telling the driver that you had a change of heart and that you were still going to the club. “Y/n, where are you?” She has to shout into the phone and now it away from her ear as the loud screams and music drum through her ear. “I’m at the club, duh. You took too long.” Natasha goes to yell at you for leaving her. You weren’t even sitting outside for no longer than ten minutes. Her lips part but remain in place as she hears the mentions of body shots. She hears your voice agreeing and cheering on the crowd. “Y/n I swear to god! We’ve been doing so well on vacation, don't do anything stupid to ruin it.”

“It's called having fun Natasha, you could be having fun with me and my new friends right now if you came downstairs in a timely matter.” The only words that seem to register in her head is “new friends” “Listen, very carefully I will leave bodies all throughout this city if I have to, don’t add more deaths to your consciousness.” If Natasha could see your face on the other end of the phone, she would have regretted saying those words to you. She knows how hard you tried staying away from actually getting your hands dirty, not only was Amber a contest reminder of infidelity but a constant reminder that no matter how hard you tried you still had the blood of a killer in you.

“Well, I guess I should tell you to have fun on your Gta rampage then. I’ll see you back at the penthouse.” just as you finish your response the drunken woman you've come really close to in a matter of minutes comes back with your drinks. The only thing Natasha can accurately make out is that it was your turn for body shots. If that meant you licking someone else's body or someone else licking your body, she didn’t know, and she didn't care. It shouldn't be happening. She doesn’t expect the growl to escape her throat as she yells into the phone again, but this level of disrespect was causing her to lose every inch of restraint she's been holding back on this entire trip.

“Y/n!”

“Bye Tash!” You end the call with a muffled laugh as the phone goes dead. Natasha fumes by the curb, the realization of the club music no longer playing on her phone. Your voice filled with excitement. You, having fun without her. Having fun with strangers. Would you be bold enough to get even with her after everything she's doing to show you how sorry she was? Natasha’s not going to stand here and think about scenarios like that. If this is the game you wanted to play, fine she down to play but she won't be holding herself accountable for what comes out of it. Natasha gathers her thoughts and calls a contact to pick her up. As she sits in the vehicle dangerously calm, and stone faced. The inner part of her is excited. Yes, excited to cause a bit of chaos. She’s been loving vacation time with you, but it wasn’t every day that she gets to go on a rampage. The other non-rational devil on her shoulder keeps repeating that you're pushing her to do this. You want her to act this way. You want to see innocent people die and get hurt. One thing Nat is always good for is making your wish come true.

---------------

Natasha swears she made it in record time telling her driver to run every red light that tried to slow her down. Her fast-paced steps hold a rhythm as she searches for you within the dark and crowded room. when she spots you by the bar preparing to lay on the counter the rage overloaded as she stomps her way over to you.

“Did you think that was fucking funny?” she adds more force behind the yanking of your neck. She practically drags you to the corner of the bar before a bystander approaches her for her aggressive actions. "Hey, leave her alone!” She naps her head around to face the person who dared speak to her and inserts herself in her relationship conflicts. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” The man doesn’t back down clearly not knowing who Natasha is and what her level of power was. “You heard what I said.” he reaches for you, thinking that you were actually in danger. You’re too buzzed to actually tell him that everything was okay. That and the fact that Natasha was jealous and angry had you wanting to see how things would play out.

Natasha lands a swift and impactful hit to his throat, crushing his air supply momentarily. As the man holds his neck in pain while coughing up a lung Natasha watches him still not satisfied with the damage. “Fuck!” The man cries out in pain. Always the observant one, Natasha picked up the abandoned glass off the bar and in one swift motion she lodged the shattered piece of glass into the man’s neck. Blood splatters out as the man's face raises in panic, he holds the wound on his neck for dear life desperately trying to keep all the blood from flowing out as much as possible. “You crazy bitch.”

The outburst caused a scene within the club, people yelling and screaming from the escalated fight that just occurred before their very eyes.

“What the hell is going on?” The woman's voice sounds louder than the music and the frantic screams in the club. Natasha turns her head with pinch brows as she recognizes the voice. “Long time no see.” she smirks to the woman and you stand there clueless looking back and forth between the two. “I should've known it was you Romanoff, what the hell are you doing wrecking my club?”

“Relax Sharon, it’s just a flesh wound he’ll be fine.” the blonde woman sighs and brushes it off, calling her worker over to clean up the mess. “Come on, let me show you to the VIP section.” Natasha quickly interjects Sharon’s offer.

“Oh that won't be necessary, we aren't staying anymore since this one wanted to get a rise out of me.” she clenches your forearm as she responds to Sharon, an obvious sign that you really made her mad tonight.

“Oh, come on, you can't come to madripoor unannounced, trash my club and then leave, have some class, Natasha. I mean unless you’re still working under Alexei and have no time for fun, or a social life then never mind.” Sharon pokes fun at her knowing she'd get her to stay at least for an hour by bringing up Alexei’s name. She turns away from you and Natasha and halts when Natasha's voice reaches her ears once more.

“We’ll stay for about an hour or so, my sweet face here already started partying without me.” she reminds you of what you did just to make you feel guilty. For making her lash out like that when this was supposed to be a relaxing time for the both of you to reconnect and just enjoy the sense of a normal relationship vacation trip.

“Ah so this is y/n? Had I known that you were in my establishment I would have treated you to a much more luxurious greeting.” Sharon grasps your hand with the utmost gentle care. “I’m Sharon Carter, nice to finally put a name to a face.” You rarely were involved with Natasha’s business. After what happened to your father you tried to block that part of your life out. So, it shocks you that Natasha would mention your name to someone you haven’t met before. “Sup Sharon.” You reply back to her and shake her hand that hasn’t left yours during this whole interaction. She accepts the greeting and releases your soft hand. Sharon turns to Natasha and motions with a tilted head nod for her to follow.

“So, I can count on you to spend a little more for that outburst you caused earlier?” Sharon speaks over the loud music as she leads you both to the top level of the club.

“Well, that depends.” Natasha shouts back and keeps you pinned to her side to make sure you don’t wander off causing more headaches for her.

“On what?” Sharon questions Natasha's response, only her focus was on you and your inebriated, loopy state. “If you keep making sly touches and glances at my girlfriend ” It takes Natasha to yank you by your clothes for Sharon to bring her attention back to Nat’s unamused glare. Sharon clears her throat and rolls her eyes. “Right, I forgot you’re not big on sharing.”

“Let’s hope you don’t forget that again, for your own sake.” Only Natasha could be this unfazed about making threats to Sharon in her own environment. The remainder of the walk was silent apart from the loud music and passing conversations.

“Let me know if you need anything.” Sharon showed you to the table right above the dance floor. Natasha sat down in the booth and drinks were brought to the table immediately. Natasha didn't say one word to you, she spoke about you as if you weren't sitting right next to her silently begging for her to acknowledge you, touch you, look at you or something.

You start thinking that maybe you went a little too far tonight, but then you remember that she had no right to act this way when she was the one who stepped out on you and this relationship. You throw back a vodka shot and stand from the booth. The sound of the glass firmly slamming against the table brought her attention to you, only this time you weren't really seeking for her anymore and she could sense that. The sudden movement of you standing has Natasha's grip on your wrist in an instant. “Where are you going?” Natasha's grip on your arm for the second time that night did not hold back on the amount of strength she used on you. "The restroom.” you reply back to her with gritted teeth and an annoyed attitude. She raises her eyebrow at the tone of your voice, maybe she’s been too soft with you. Let this be no mistake she was sorry for what she did, and she wanted to do anything to make it up to you, but she would never tolerate this level of disrespect, especially in a public setting. You know better.

The image she possessed was everything to Natasha, it always has been and it always will be. She releases you and turns back to her abandoned drink and lights a cigar. Silently telling you it was Okay to leave from the vip section. Sharon comes back to the vip section not expecting you to be absent. “Where’s your troublemaker?” She sits down across from Natasha casually fixing the cuffs of her suit jacket.

“What do you want, Carter?” Natasha takes the cigar out of her mouth as smoke fills the area. “Well, I wouldn’t be a businesswoman if I didn’t at least try to tempt you into something, now, would I?” Natasha doesn’t even hesitate with an answer. “No.” Sharon’s face drops from rejection and Natasha’s blunt but playful response. “Oh, c’mon you haven’t even heard me out yet.” Natasha looks Sharon over for a moment and thinks what warm could it do to at least hear the proposal. “Alright, fine but don’t waste my time.” Sharon smiles as she’s won Natasha over; she also knows the amount of money the two of them could make would have her set for life without any worry.

------------

During that time of discussing business Natasha lost track of time and your absence. She searches the crowd from above until her eyes land on you, on the dance floor dancing but of course you're not alone why would you be when you look that good in a club filled past its maximum capacity. “Nice, catching up with you Sharon but we have to get going now.'' Natasha puts the cigar out and throws back her drink before slamming the glass down against the marble tabletop. The glass cracks from the brutal force but Sharon doesn’t complain about it, she could care less about a glass right now, her mind was too busy focused on her future financial luxury that would be coming her way.

You let the music take over as all the negative energy fades away from your body. You dance close with strangers, well one woman wasn’t really a stranger you met her in the restroom. After a few traded compliments you two have since then become best friends even if she doesn’t know your name. As your body grinds against others without a care in the world you're once again snatched up and pulled away from the dance floor. "Ouch!" You yell out in pain, but Natasha continues on her mission to exit the club with her hand firmly around the back of your neck.

“Get in the car.” she shoves you into the backseat. “Aww are you mad at me baby?” you inch toward her with a condescending pout on your face. You reach for her face to bring her closer, she dodges with ease. Setting her jaw and sticking to keeping her eyes on the window she wasn’t in the mood to play your game.

The moment you were about to cave in and apologize to her, the car door opened on your end, surprising you both. Natasha was seconds away from blowing a hole into the intruders head just because she’s away on vacation doesn’t mean she let her guard down. She was always aware and alert. The sound of the bullet never comes as she blinks away the utter disbelief that someone would be stupid enough to enter her vehicle. It’s the woman you were on the dance floor with.

“Omg I was looking all over for you! One minute we were drowning in vodka, sharing a blunt and then the next you were gone babe by.” She moves the hair from her eyes and leans a little closer to you. She was obviously more drunk than you, not even taking notice of the gun barrel that was aimed at her head. “Omg you found me!” You move away from Nat scooting closer to the other side of the seat.

“Of course, I did! Now why don’t we take this party back to your place, we can have more fun with just us.” her hands start to travel in places that only belonged to the fuming red head seated on the opposite side of you.

“Absolutely not!”

“Cmon Tash live a little, I don’t mind at all” The woman snorts thin white powder from her wrist, that seemed to get Natasha’s attention again but what comes after it has her considering cutting this trip short and ending her no kill rule for this trip. The woman plants her lips onto yours. Humming in delight and moaning in ecstasy. It was quick but calculated so much so that her tongue sneaked its way past your lips for the second time tonight.

Natasha had enough. There was a part of her that thought this through, thoughts of participating in a threesome, thoughts of letting you sleep with someone else for what she did to you, but she could never go through with it, she was selfish and a hypocrite.

Her apology would have to be enough because once again she’s not big on sharing and she’s definitely not big on sharing when it comes to you, she’s had many requests over the entirety of your relationship. All have been shot down over the request and some have literally been shot at for even proposing such a thing. “Get the fuck out!” Natasha shields you away from the drunken woman pulling you onto her lap and raising the gun to a better eye level. “Woah, hey! No need to get violent red. I was going to give you a taste next.” She raises her hands up in surrender. She furrows her eyes and does a seductive motion, slowly lifting her dress up to change Natasha’s mind. “Mm can we take her home Tash?” You bite your lip as you slowly wait for the drunken women to reveal more.

“Don’t move your hands any further unless you want me to chop them off! Now get out!” You can only giggle hysterically at the interaction between the two of them. Natasha smacks your ass to quiet your annoying drunken giggles and gives the woman one last chance to exit the vehicle before the entire back seat interior was covered with her brains. If she even had a brain. She understands the seriousness now or either she’s started to slowly sober up but she doesn’t say anything else as she exits the car finally. “Byee madissyn.” You slur your words as you watch her leave the vehicle. Natasha grabs your face harshly turning you around to face her, and for the first time tonight she looks deeply into your eyes and lifts your eyelids. “Did you fucking take something?” You giggle and mock her as a reply “dId yOu fuckin take something.”

“Relax, it’s nothing we haven’t done before.” Natasha doesn’t need you to go further she can tell by your dilated pupils and the way you can’t sit still in the leather seats. Ecstasy. She knows the signs partly because you’ve done it together a few times when you were younger. She can’t decide if she’s upset that you took it from a stranger or the fact that you took it without her.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind? You don’t even know her!” Natasha shoves you to the other side of the seat and instructs the driver to head back to the penthouse. You've made her mad, mission accomplished but at what cost?

-------------

Entering the penthouse Natasha goes straight to the bar by the window, taking her jacket off and tossing it on the bar stool. For some reason it annoys you, how could she be so upset and hurt when all you did was dance and participate in harmless body shot fun. Okay maybe it wasn’t as innocent as you made it out to be but the fact that she was being hypocritical right now only angered you more. “You’re upset about a dance, body shots, shotgunning some weed and some ecstasy pills?” She keeps her back turned towards you as she sips on her drink. You walk closer to her stumbling a bit when you near the bar.

“It was more than that and you know it, the whore even followed us out to the car and had the nerve to touch you! We didn’t discuss anything about bringing a strange whore into our bed!” She deeply inhales and exhales, closing her eyes to maintain her calm demeanor. “Get away from me y/n, I’m not in the mood to even look at you right now.”

“Aww did you not like her touching my body?”

”Y/n” she says in a warning tone, her face is stern but the way her lips pout in a cute way only makes you want to push further.. “Did you not like her lips grazing mine?”

“I’m warning you, watch what comes out of your mouth.” You challenge her, what could she possibly do when she vowed not to hit you in that way again? You brush off her warning threat and you can’t fully blame it on the drugs and the alcohol for what comes out of your mouth because truth be told it’s been on your mind since that day.

“I would hate to see the look on your face when I actually do decide to fuck someone else!” Her hand finds comfort around your throat, your back pressed against the wall as you struggle to breathe. Natasha doesn’t look like she’s letting go of you anytime soon. Being in this position was a sense of deja vu. Being back home in the bedroom after finding out about Natasha's true actions at Tony’s club, but this time it didn’t end with you receiving a slap to the face and a split lip.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t tell me what I don’t m-“ your snappy response gets cut off when you feel the ripped fabric of your skirt. cold air exposing you and the wet spot of your fancy lingerie. “You think someone can fuck you better than me?”

“The way you’ve soaked your panties tells me otherwise, did you like making me mad? You like seeing me go crazy over you?” Your breathing picks up as she moves closer to you. Her lips ghosting over yours. Everything she said was true, you just wanted to be petty tonight, and give her a taste of what could happen if she ever stepped out on you again. There is always someone out there that would kill for a night with you.

“I asked you a question” she tightens her grip on your neck no doubt a bruise will be left when her hand finally retracts from your skin. You offer no reply back to your girlfriend, only smiling menacingly at her and placing your hand on top of hers adding more pressure to your restricted airway. A flash of excitement rushes through Natasha. You weren’t always like this, so willing to initiate certain kinks like airplay. “I know everything about you and your body, I know what sets you off, and I know I’m the only person that can make you cry out to god.” You don’t hide any sense of humility. Smugness plastered across your face. It’s not enough, you really want to push her.

“Unfortunately for you the same can’t be said for me.” You’ve pushed too far deep now. She knows you can find pleasure from someone else. Of course, it won’t be on the same level as her, but your body will react and openly welcome the pleasure. For her it’s not the case, the prime example of that is now dead. The darkness within her eyes had you retreating. No longer wanting to toy with her but the damage was done, and Natasha had her mind set, once she finally had confirmation that you wanted her to lash out at you and use your body to take out her frustrations. Finally, she slams you to the window, not hard enough to truly injure you but hard enough to have more than a hangover in the morning.

Her lips crash into yours leaving your plea unheard. The kiss was rough and messy, as it normally would be in this situation of claiming you. The feeling of her rough hands tearing at the remainder of your clothes.

“Fuck, you know I love this set on you.” She speaks with mesmerized once again as her eyes land on the lingerie set that had her begging you to stay on for the night. It was a midnight black two piece. Mostly basic, Natasha didn’t need much despite her lifestyle, at least when it came to you she welcomed simplicity she found it just as sexy as you dressing up for her but the reality of it all was she just loved you. No matter how long or how hard it’s taken her to admit that out loud and under the circumstances it came out.

“Duh, that’s why I put it on.” You don’t receive any form of reply. Natasha snatches the fabric of your bralette finally exposing your Breasts. Her animalistic growls only increase the burning desire to have her near your throbbing core. She briefly breaks away from the kiss, roughly turning you around to face the bright lights and industrial buildings. Your face pressed against the window and her fingers plunged into your warm cunt without warning. You didn’t need any foreplay, that started the minute you decided to leave her for the club. Riling her up any chance you got. You hoped that she would fuck you, but you didn’t want to be fucked against this high rising window. You teased her, you angered her, and edged her on, now you were just going to have to deal with it and take what she gives you. She keeps a steady and brutal pace pushing you closer to your high and pulling away just at the cusps.

“Hm, Tash- it’s enough.” You reach behind you with intentions to push her arm away. Natasha smirks and forcefully pushes your pleading hand away and plants it against the window as well. She keeps her hand there for extra security, squeezing your wrist as a silent warning not to do it again or to move it. She wasn’t done tormenting you just yet, but she’ll allow you to cum. She lifts your leg and hikes your thigh up for a better angle, adding another finger to your overstimulated hole. She grunts as her breath fans over the shell of your ear.

“Nat”

“Tsk, what happened to all of that mouth you had a few minutes ago? she knows your fear of heights and still proceeds to fuck you against the thick glass. The fear and the pleasure has your mind going foggy, experiencing both at the same time. She pounds into you harder with each thrust reminding you of who you belong to. The thick glass brought some sort of comfort to your skin, cooling it off from Natasha’s burning touch. No words come from you, only panting and whines. Your breath fogs the glass as Natasha keeps her brutal pace, slick runs down your legs . She doesn’t relent until you practically turn into mush against the tall frame window.

As you feel her body weight slightly removed from your back you sniffle as the tears built up in your eyes struggle from falling down your cheeks. The edges her on even more, the sound of you trying to catch your breath and the small sound of your sniffles push her further. She’s definitely not done being petty. She takes her previous position behind you and pulls your back against her front; she grazes her lips against the warm skin of your ear and her raspy voice lights a fire inside of you from anger and arousal. “Who’s the sensitive one now?” You didn’t need to turn around to know she was wearing that shit eating smirk, you didn’t even need to look at her reflection in the smudge stain glass, you could hear it.

You use all the strength you have left on your shaky limbs to push her away. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You asshole!” You wipe the stray tears that fell from your eyes and Natasha only returns a smirk in response before she reaches for her abandoned drink on the bar counter. “Relax, the window is custom made, there are very few things that would make it shatter and our body weight isn’t one of them.” Natasha isn’t hiding her enjoyment right now, it’s on a very rare occasion when you actually cry for her. After the small moment of silence the soreness and weakened state of your body starts to take effect. Your eyes feel heavy and the drugs start to come back in full effect. It's pretty normal for you when you do smoke, not to mention the post orgasm clarity.

Natasha stood next to you the entire time watching you and she knows you had the idea of sleeping on your mind next and that just wasn’t enough for her, she’s still angry at you. Natasha picks you up and heads for the bedroom, she lays you on the bed gently totally different from her aggressive demeanor in the living room. You think she’s helping you get more comfortable, but the light tap against your cheek tells you otherwise. “Oh, no sweet face, wake up we’re not done yet.” She removes your shoes and tosses them to the floor. You hear shuffling around you still not quite aware of your surroundings.

“You’re a hypocritical, psychotic, asshole.” You mumble into the cool air of the night with closed eyes. The small break was enough for you to gather yourself again and you’re still upset about her putting you into danger like that just to get back at you for what happened at the club. She stops unbuttoning her blouse and kneels over your body until she’s face to face with you, her hands softly rub against your cheeks. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.” Natasha takes her clothes off and sits everything she needs on the other side of the bed, the next thing you feel is the bed dipping. Natasha grabs both of your arms and lifts them above your head, the feeling of soft fabric against your wrist causes you to jerk your body. She pays no mind to you as she continues to focus on knotting the fabric and connecting it to the headboard.

Your mind is still hazy, so every little movement Natasha makes is keeping you alert. “Nat, what are you doing?” You say, your voice is scratchy and hoarse. Natasha returns with a liquor bottle, two shot glasses and one regular glass. “We’re gonna play a game, since you’re in a playful mood tonight.” Is all she says before pouring into the two shot glasses. You curiously watch her in anticipation. She kisses up your stomach leaving bites and wet kisses along the way before she stops at your neck and pulls away all together.

“If you spill any of my drinks you lose.” She places one shot glass on your bare stomach as you shudder from the cold glass she sends you a warning sound. “Careful buttercup you don’t want to lose before we even start now do you?” You have to compose the little self control you have left. Her fingers slide against your thighs as they get closer and closer to your sex her smirk grows wider. Her finger grazes your swollen clit and you have no choice but to react causing the drink to shake but thankfully the alcohol remains in the glass.

Natasha crawls up your body and takes the glass in her mouth while remaining eye contact, she doesn’t finish all of it, she leaves a small amount in the glass and removes it from her mouth and pours the alcohol down your body starting from the center of your chest. You shudder from the contact and Natasha doesn’t give you much of a break as she starts her attack going down your body. She follows the trail that the alcohol leaves behind for her with her tongue. Leaving deep marks and bites along the way until she makes it back to your clit with a gentle kiss that leaves you wanting more. She looks up from your clit at the sound of your moan.

“Isn’t this much better than doing body shots with strangers?” You don’t reply to her, your head is too busy wondering how long she’ll keep this game up. She pours another shot but this time she has a new agenda on her mind. She makes her way up your body right in front of your breathless face. “Are you thirsty?” She knows the answer to that question just based on your appearance. The tension in your throat was becoming too much. You need a sense of relief. She takes your head leaning forward as a yes. Just as your lips were about to make contact with the glass, she pulls it away from you and drinks the shot herself and chuckles from the bewildered look on your face. “What the hell Nat!” You don’t even know what number of shots she’s on right now, but it takes a lot for Natasha to be drunk. A drunk Natasha was a completely different story than an annoyed Natasha.

“You still thirsty?” She whispers against your lips. Her stare is intense and intoxicating. You look away from her to show her just how annoyed you are, of course she thinks it’s cute. She refills the glass and hooks her finger under your chin bringing you face to face with her again. She downs the shot once again and tosses the glass across the room. She keeps your face in place as you try no ring away from her. She smashes her lips against yours and pushes the alcohol into your mouth. It’s fast and sloppy, so small amounts of it leak down the corner of your mouth and as Natasha pulls back she uses her tongue to catch every drip she sees.

“You want more Detka?” She still remains close to you as she reaches over to grab the bottle of alcohol off of the small cart. You only silently nod eagerly, wanting her to do it again. Except this time she hooks a finger underneath your chin tilting your head backwards and tips the bottle over. She notices the sudden change in enthusiasm at the change of direction. She can only laugh at you and your expressions but she can’t get too lost in it. This was a punishment after all. There was no time to be soft, at least so early into things. “Don’t pout.”

The next time she reaches for a shot to place on your stomach she sits the bigger glass on your stomach as well. She follows it up with dropping a few pieces of ice into the glass. “Nat you’re not being fair” frustration grows more when you realize this was a losing game either way it went. It’s not a game at all, it's a punishment of overstimulation. She pulls the wand out and turns it on to the highest level, your moans rise in volume at the first touch. “What was that I can’t hear you?” She keeps a firm grip on the toy and doesn’t relent on the pressure against your clit. “Fuck” you whine from the overstimulation, your legs are numb, and you no longer have the strength to try closing them from Natasha's access. The drinks spill over your body and the sheets Natasha takes in the sight with pride even though you’ve clearly just lost she has not intent on letting up on this game “You lost, baby and you’ve made such a mess.” She taunts you with fake concern as her hand stays firm and she starts moving the toy against your folds.

“Natasha, please.” She pouts at you with her fake sympathy. “Natasha please, what?” She gave your messy pussy a break by turning the level to the lowest Instead of taking it away completely. Your facial expressions plead more towards her than your words do. “Y-ou made your point, okay? now can you please- fuck! untie me?” She hums, weighing her decisions on if she thinks you’ve learned your lesson or not. Not really though because once Natasha Romanoff’s mind was set on something she made sure to go through with it no matter what. She took a little bit of pity on you right now but she really wanted to see this through, plus she was beyond turned on. She’s just stubborn like that.

“You know I don’t like pity cards and you know I don’t like cop outs, but nice try buttercup. You take what I give you and be happy with it.” If you were truly in unbearable pain, you’d use the safe word or Natasha would notice your breaking point and stop everything immediately. “Besides, don't you want to cum?” You growl in frustration as you glare at her, forgetting about the tight silk fabric strained against your skin you hiss in pain after your little tantrum. Natasha chuckles as she presses the toy firmly back into you. “You’re worried about me hurting you, it looks like those are doing it all on their own.”

“Mmh- h-how much longer are you gonna keep me like this?

“Until my feelings are no longer hurt or until I’m satisfied enough with how puffy and messy your pussy gets for me.” You were about to say something until the sensation of the wand tapping against your clit and the curl of Natasha’s finger entering your hole sent you further into ecstasy “Oh! Oh my-“ your fingers clench hard around the fabric of the restraints. “You know you haven’t even said sorry.” The look you gave her made her laugh but you can tell that she was being serious, maybe you did cut a little deep with your words knowing she has abandonment issues among many others. “I’m sorry, please. I’m sorry Tash.” You desperately apologize to her and she gives you no sign that she’s acknowledged it. Natasha turns the toy back on but not to the highest level and trails her tongue to your throbbing and neglected hole. She teases you for a moment by swirling her tongue around the hole before she spreads your folds, dives in and fucks you with firm and fast strokes. The sound of your wetness egging both of you on even more.

Every stroke and flick of her tongue was so intensifying that you forgot all about the silk fabrics restricting your hands from her grasp. Your body jerks from overstimulation but hearing the sound of Natasha’s praise filled moans made up for it. You ignore the stinging pain as the pleasure was much more overpowering. Just as you were getting used to the feeling of being on the edge again Natasha abruptly stops and pulls away from you with your juices smeared over her face. She enjoys the baffled look on your face right now. “I hate you.” You say, breathlessly while glaring at her as your legs shake uncontrollably with the loss of another orgasm.

You both know that’s not true she is using this moment to trap you, she wants to get a reaction out of you, she wants you to beg her to fuck you after you’ve been pleading with her for a break. “No, you don’t.” She places a soft but burning kiss on your skin while doing absolutely nothing to hide that smug expression from her face. You arch your back off of the bed, the sensation is now becoming too much to withstand. Natasha takes note of it and silently looks at you for any signs that you are at your limit. You wrap your legs around her as tight as your worn-out limbs will allow. “Keep going daddy, I’m okay.” Natasha’s strong hands have to keep you in place as she devours what belongs to her.

“Naat” your voice was finally at its breaking point. Worn out and hoarse. Natasha doesn’t budge, she keeps her focus on gaining her pleasure. “Hm fuck, just hold on a little longer” she thrusts against you groaning just how you like it, breathlessly panting with extra rasp in her voice. The moment her breath fans against your earlobe you felt your control slipping away. “Hold on for daddy?” She hooks your leg up for more security. Her fingers would surely leave behind imprints from the way she’s pressed her fingers into your soft thighs. “You feel so fucking good throbbing against me.”

“Just for me” she whispers the words out loud more so to herself than to you, but you respond to her anyway.

“Uh huh” you nod with eagerness as your nails claw at her skin. Natasha endures the stinging pain as she gets lost in the feeling of your warm slick. “Say it!” The sound of her hand making contact with the side of your ass jerks your body. “Just for you! Fuck, just for you!” You cum before Natasha does, you were already worked up and well spent she however still had energy left to use against you. Anger and jealousy were always a motivational boost for Natasha’s sex drive weirdly enough. As you lay there catching your breath Natasha’s movements slow down only for a moment before she’s repositioning herself on top of you. She finally frees your hands from the silk binds. Quickly massaging your wrists and leaving a chastise kiss on them. She spreads your puffy folds and begins angling herself against you. “Tash.”

“You can take it.” The sigh of relief and pleasure that takes over Natasha’s face was definitely worth the soreness that you will feel in the morning. She positions her clit against your dripping hole, she slowly pushes into you. The warmth of your pussy against the tip of Natasha’s clit was pure joy, she doesn’t do it often, or rather she didn’t really have time to do anything other than a quickie. Her mob activities and her regular nine to five businesses were always top priority now with new goals and a clean slate she wouldn’t dream about leaving you and your feelings out of the equation anymore. Especially not if she gets to fuck you like this more often.

Natasha snaps her hips forward, with each thrust your tits bounce in perfect rhythm. Her thrusts start slow but firm, until she can no longer hold on. Even though her entry point was small it didn’t take away the indescribable feeling of you sucking her in. Natasha pulls back for observation and once she sees the tip of her clit still inside of you something snaps inside of her. The perfect bounce of your tits soon starts to become erratic and sloppy just as Natasha’s thrusts. The loud sound of skin slapping, and wetness was almost enough to drown out anything else.

she buries her face into the crook of your neck, her muffled moans send the last bit of sensation you had left through your body. You don’t move. All of your limbs were non-functional at the moment, your bodies are still pressed together, and you hope to the highest heaven that Natasha meant what she said this time because you could still feel her throbbing against your folds. Your warm juices continue to flow as you watch Natasha come down from her high. “That was so hot.” She bites the side of your neck and soothes it over with her tongue. She takes a moment to place soft kisses anywhere she can on your body. You lay there in comfortable silence as you bask in the warmth and affection, she’s showing you right now because you truly don’t know how long it will last. How long this side of Natasha would stay before she’s back to her cold and set ways of thinking.

You fought off sleep as long as you could, but you were no longer winning the fight, Natasha obviously notices you trying to keep yourself awake. She makes quick work of cleaning you up, during your moment of dazed and fuzzy afterglow you only come down when you feel her in the same area she just abused. “Fuck off tash.” You limply try swatting her hands away from your cunt. Natasha scoffs and chuckles in the same breath. “Shut up and stop squirming. I'm cleaning you up, I should leave you a mess for what you did tonight.” She slaps your pussy once just to add on to the ‘asshole of the night award’ and you call her a bitch which only makes her chuckle. You know it’s a lie, Nat has never deliberately skipped aftercare with you. Only in times when she had to rush out unexpectedly, back when she was still in training to take over the business. Back when your relationship was in an awkward place.

During your small moment of reminiscing, you feel the bed shifting. The warm heat of Natasha’s skin against yours and the faint feeling of her breathing gets you to crack your eyes open to be greeted with her patiently awaiting your gaze. “Hey.” Your groggy greeting is cut off forcefully by Natasha’s lips smashing into yours. She pulls back looking you over as her nimble fingers ghost over your skin, over every mark on your neck and chest. She’s satisfied with her work tonight. She gives you a few more kisses before pulling you close to her side of the bed and turning the lights off. “Y/n.”

“Hm?” You hum in response while she rubs your back soothingly. “You're the only one for me." She wants to say, “I’m sorry I fucked up for me to realize that.” But she doesn’t want to get deep into that conversation right now. She doesn’t want to be vulnerable and open; she'll save it for another day. “Sleep.” Not long after that you were out cold.

----------------

The next time you shift in bed your eyes are halfway open. You notice Natasha is still sitting up with her back against the headboard talking in a hushed whisper. She hears you stirring beside her. She doesn’t want you awake, she doesn’t want you to hear the conversation. Panic bells sound off inside of your head anytime she gets a phone call in the early hours of the morning. “Let me guess, vacation is over.” Your voice still dripped with slumber but it wasn’t a question it was more of confirmation, confirmation that usually results in you being tossed to the side and neglected. Natasha pauses the conversation you weren’t too focused on trying to hear. You were nearly on your way back to sleep. “No, baby, just go back to sleep.” She gives you a soft kiss to distract your curiosity so you fall asleep without any hesitation or any push back.

The next time you wake up you hear voices, and you feel yourself being moved around. The cool breeze hits your face, but you still remain with low lidded eyes. You’re not in danger, you would know if you were. The hands that hold on to you and occasionally caress your face weren’t unfamiliar ones. You could spot them instantly; you drift back off to sleep with the reassurance of a body nestled close to yours and warmth radiating into you. You wake up feeling the aftereffects from the evening you had last night with Natasha. You stretch your arms out while remaining to keep your eyes shut. You feel the bed for Natasha’s body and freeze when you come up empty. She wasn’t here.

You vaguely remember being put in the car and seeing your luggage being carried out of the penthouse. You sit up in bed with pinched brows after you’re aware of your surroundings, you search for your cell phone and find it on the side table plugged into the charger. Most of the messages were from Yelena and a few emails about your new night club. You were just about to call Natasha’s phone to demand answers about the change in location when you heard voices above you on the top deck of the yacht. Not only is Natasha standing there but she has Bucky and Clint with her as well. This was supposed to be a trip away from the mob life and that includes them. You storm up the last few stairs towards her. She knew you’d be yelling at her sooner or later after you woke up.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I thought this was our vacation time?” You cross your arms as you await her answer while also being aware of the extra bodies that were not supposed to be present. “Good morning to you too honey, I slept great thanks for asking.”

“Don’t fuck with me, I’m not in the mood to play with you right now Natasha.”

“We’re still on vacation…this needed to be dealt with immediately.” Her response doesn’t do anything for you to ease up on her. “Oh, c’mon sweet face, I thought this would be better by settling this here so we wouldn’t have to cut our trip short.” She rubs your waist and kisses your face hoping it will cool your temper. “You couldn’t have handled it at the penthouse?”

“You’d rather have me do that in a place where we lay our heads?”

“Natasha, we’re in fucking madripoor! Shit happens here every hour on the hour! Packing me and our things away at the ass crack of dawn for this? was not necessary!”

“Will you relax? You’re always complaining about me being romantic. Well, I was trying to be spontaneous while also getting things done efficiently!”

“Nothing about this is romantic and your whole excuse is a cop out.”

“Surprising you with a morning on a yacht isn’t romantic?”

“Don’t condescend me Natasha, it was the way you did things while also having an ulterior motive behind it.” Natasha grabs your hand before you walk away from her. Linking her fingers through yours and somehow your eyes drift up her body just in time to see the flex of her muscles in the tank top she was wearing. “Calm down, have some breakfast. I have all of your favorites prepared Already. This is not the end of our trip, it's more of a small interruption.” “Fine.” You turn your face away from her and start moving towards the kitchen area for some breakfast. if you were going to be around for this you were not doing it on an empty stomach. Natasha stops you and places her lips to the shell of your ear. “It won’t take long I promise.” She kisses your neck. “We can go back to our room and make that champagne and ice bucket useful, hm?”

“No, absolutely not you’re not touching me after last night, I’m still sore.” You brush past her as she scoffs and glares at you, you can say that now but maybe when she’s finished, you’ll change your mind. Natasha walks back to the group at the seating area and picks up a few pieces of fruit as the paranoid man sits in silence. “It’s my understanding that I haven’t received your payment.” She holds her hand up when the man attempts to speak, no doubt to apologize or make an excuse for his actions. “I don’t want excuses” Natasha doesn’t like pity and she doesn’t like excuses. You'd be lucky enough for her to even ask you for a solution instead of killing you. Charles stupidly ignores her response hoping she’d be able to understand when she hears the full story and his side of things.

“We’ve been having a tough time at the shop and-“ Her fists cut his words short he wasn’t even aware of when she stood up to even get near him. “I thought I just said I didn’t want to hear any excuses.” Natasha sighs with disappointment as she checks her nails like the narcissist she is. “You interrupted my lovely trip with my sweet face over there.” She points to you while you sit at the counter sipping your orange juice. “This was not the way she was supposed to be waking up, Charles. Do you understand my dilemma here?” The man hesitated to answer Natasha. The question was dripping with a sexual undertone, not knowing if he would end up with a bullet between his eyes for answering truthfully. “I-“ Natasha delights in his uneasiness to reply, one wrong word would set her off completely, changing the mood of this meeting. “It’s okay, you can answer.”

“I understand, trust me.” He takes a little too long to turn his attention back to her. So, she grabs him by the collar. “Aren’t you going to apologize?” She tilts her head hovering above him. “I-I apologize for the intrus-“ the back of her hand makes contact with his face. “Not to me you fucking idiot!” She grabs his face and turns it towards your direction. “To her.” You grow awkward with the man’s eyes on you while you are trying to eat. “I’m sorry.” “She can’t hear you! Say it louder!” You heard his apology but you wanted to be left alone for now. After having a week of silence and wild nights with Natasha you weren’t ready for things to start going back to normal. You weren’t ready to go back home and fall into the same pattern again. “I’m so sorry” fully catching your attention you flip him off in response and go back to eating and drinking your juice. He turns around to look at Natasha for what to do next. She insists on him trying again for an apology. Shooing him away with her hands. He moves further into the kitchen area as you eat your breakfast. Unfazed by his presence. “Um miss I wanted to sincerely apologize for-“ his apology was stopped abruptly when the weight of the waffle iron collided with his face. “What the hell!” He shouts out in agony clutching his broken nose on the floor.

“Why the hell are you in my face? You already ruined my morning, now you’re going to ruin my breakfast too?” You grab him by the collar of his shirt. “No, that was not my intention.” Even if he was telling the truth, you were still pissed about it, so you use this opportunity to use him as a punching bag. Throwing multiple punches to his already broken and bruised face. Clint once again steps next to Natasha. “You just gonna let her do that? We don’t need him dead, Nat.” Natasha looks at Clint with a smirk on her face. She honestly loved that you let out your dark side more now. “I suppose you’re right, but I just love seeing my sweet face go sour and bad for a bit.” Clint makes a face of disgust.

“Please spare me the details of you and y/n’s psycho relationship dynamic, I already told you that you two need therapy like yesterday.” She rolls her eyes and walks away. You stop your attack on his face and you hold him up by the collar of his blood-stained shirt. The small blade presses against his skin; you trail the sharp knife down his cheek and stop at the curve of his neck. “What type of work do you do?” He seems caught off guard with that question as he nervously licks his lips. He doesn’t know if he is supposed to look at you or keep his eyes trained on the cabinets. “I own a butcher shop.”

“Oh, this is perfect.” You take pride in his blatant display of confusion and fear. “You cut and trim meat all day, what’s so hard about that?” You don't give him a chance to reply to you, not that he would even dare try to respond to that loaded question. “Since you’re a butcher I’m sure you’re aware that a single incorrect cut could ruin a good piece of meat.” He stares up at you in pain and confusion as you tilt your head adding more pressure behind the knife. Natasha arrives in the kitchen area just in time.

“Okay, that’s enough, buttercup.” She pulls your back to her front and holds you in place. “Put the knife down.” She rubs your body soothingly to bring you back to a calm state. It takes you a few seconds, but you eventually flick the blade back into its safety pocket and place it into Natasha’s hands and let the man go in the process. As she puts the small knife in her pocket Natasha looks down at the bloody figure on the floor. “I know how much you wanted to cool off a bit, I don’t know what possessed him to bother you.” She snuggles her face closer to your neck inhaling deeply, She loved the scent of you. As Natasha was distracted the man quickly defended himself once again.

“You literally told me to come over here and apologize!” He shouts out at her stupidly once again not knowing how dangerous that is. “No, I don’t think I did, actually.” Instead, she replies back with a cool and calm demeanor she wanted to see if you’d attack him again. ”Yes you did!” Charles shouts back defensively and Natasha kicks him in the face “Shut up!” You crane your neck to watch Natasha’s body language. “Don’t listen to him baby Especially since I know how grumpy you get when something interrupts our plans.” She softly kisses your neck when she’s done telling the lie. You take a moment to look down at your silk pajamas and groan frustration.

“He got his blood all over my new pajamas, now we have to buy another set of matching ones.” Natasha just chuckles at your response. Blaming that poor man for getting blood on your expensive robe when you were the cause of it being there in the first place. She loved it. Part of her wished your father would’ve made you more involved with the mob activities like she had to. She would’ve had this sight of you way early on into the relationship, but she loves you just the way you are right now. “Don’t worry about it. We can buy all the matching pajamas you want, I’ll take care of it.”

“Yeah, you will especially since this is your fault for sending him over here in my goddamn face in the first place.”

“See, I told you!” You both speak at the same time. “Shut up!” When the man quiets down Natasha doesn’t try to deny it this time she just laughs and pulls you closer to her. Of course, you knew she was lying. “I’m sorry, I just thought you wanted to let some anger out and I was clearly right.”

“How thoughtful of you.” You gently pat her cheek. “I know.” She leans forward placing her lips on yours. She growls in surprise when you take control, shoving your tongue down her throat. Backing her up into the counter and harshly biting her lip. “Don’t tease me right now dekta.”

“Can you two stop sucking face? We have import shit to deal with here!” Bucky was getting annoyed. From the time being wasted and just from seeing you two showing public displays of affection. You clench your jaw, looking over Natasha’s shoulder. Who the hell did he think he was? You pick up an empty champagne flute and launch it at Bucky. “Shut the fuck up!” He dodges the glass before it makes contact. Clint pulls Bucky aside with force. “You seriously need to let it go, Buck.” Clint harshly whispers to him. He snatches his arm from Clint and goes to sit down on the padded couch. Seeing him be seated like a good little guard dog that he should be. As Clint snatches the man from the floor and away from the kitchen area you focus back on your girlfriend. “Finish everything up here and I’ll be downstairs. Don’t take too long though, I’m not promising to keep my hands off.” You slide your hand underneath the silk waistband of her pajamas. Natasha’s eyes blown wide, she couldn’t wait to get this over with to have you screaming out in pleasure and pain once again. You bring your hand back out into the open. Natasha licks her lips at the glistening wet slick dripping down your fingers. You place your fingers on her lips. She welcomes them openly, sucking the flavorful juices off your fingers. You lean in ghostly whispering against her lips.

“If you get this handled quickly the next time, we kiss I’ll have the taste of your cum on my lips.” Her breath hitches and she’s more determined to get this shit done now more than ever. Hell, she might even give him more time and just have Clint and Bucky take Charles back home. That would be the only time she would show forgiveness. The only time she’d be so lenient to someone who wronged her.

Natasha makes her way back to the seating area; she makes a show to whistle from your previous actions. “Yeah, she’s pissed. I was going to put on a show for her but I’m feeling merciful and gracious.” She pops a few pieces of fruit in her mouth and turns directly to face the bruised and bloody man. “So, let’s talk about how you’re going to move forward to get me the money that I’m owed and how you’re gonna pay extra for this inconvenience, shall we?”

They found a way to come to an agreement and the instant that the problem had been solved Natasha jumped up from her seat with haste and intended to run downstairs to you. “Natasha, we have another problem.”

------------

“No, we just fixed it…any other problems can wait until tomorrow or until I officially return from my vacation.”

“Uh, Nat you’re not listening…”

“And you’re not listening to me Clint, this trip was to make things up to y/n, and I don’t need calls interrupting the time I made for her. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have holes that I need to fill downstairs and you’re making me late.” Clint visibly gags and Natasha’s satisfied with his reaction to walk away from him to leave him with that burning image. “Jesus! Keep that to yourself I swear to God I’m this close to ditching my earring aids whenever I’m on duty! and I’m serious Nat it’s about Alexei.” Just as she was walking away from him she stops in her tracks as soon as he mentions the name. She slowly turns around to face him and a silent Bucky. “What kind of problem is it?”

Time passes longer than you would’ve liked but once again you were used to it. This trip did nothing but show you the reality of your life and your relationship. You could never truly get away from this lifestyle. You quickly change into normal clothes, your mood has drastically changed and the likelihood of your girlfriend returning to you anytime soon was uncommon. As expected when the bedroom door opens you know it’s Natasha and you know she’s come to tell you the bad news but what she doesn’t expect is for you to already have the bags packed and ready to be put into the car. Her apology falls dead on the tip of her tongue as you cut her off before she even had the chance to release it. “I don’t want to hear it.” Your response is cold and calm, two signs she’s much familiar with now, you could snap at any moment. Which furthers the internal need to be close to you she knows there’s a chance of a fight happening, an item being thrown at her hell you could be hiding a knife somewhere just waiting to make your move. She ignores her thoughts and cautiously takes small steps towards you at a time.

“Hey, it’s another emergency that needs to be addressed and it’s much bigger than what happened this morning.” You don’t say anything to her as you sit in silence on the edge of the bed. She tries to be near you to bring you some sort of comfort, but you stand up and head for the door with your luggage in hand. “I told you I don’t want to hear it; I don’t want to hear excuses.” Natasha already felt bad and now you’re using her own shit against her which makes her feel even worse. She reached for you hoping you’d let her explain the situation further. Maybe it’ll ease the pain if you knew just how dire it was to fly back home. All she got in return was a stinging slap to the face before you stormed out of the room with your luggage completely. Natasha wasn’t expecting it but she isn’t mad at it, you’re upset, angry and hurt. She knows you’re not letting it all out, so a slap to the face is something she’d have to endure. She grabs a duffel bag and tells Bucky and Clint to get the rest of the luggage as she follows after you.

You remained silent in the car as Clint and Natasha discussed business matters. You settle for keeping your focus on the car window knowing Natasha is staring at you intently waiting for you to address her. To say something. Anything. She leans closer to you, and you counter her movements by sliding closer to the door. She tries again by placing her hand on your thigh to silently apologize for cutting the trip short. You remove her hand immediately. In your eyes it looked like she lied about what happened earlier, which in truth she didn’t lie, things just played out that way. How Inconvenient for her. She leaves you to deal with your emotions and goes to her phone texting Yelena about your incoming attitude and about this meeting that Alexei demanded to have.

------------

You make your way onto the private jet, and you still have not said one word to Natasha other than your outburst from earlier. You flop down in the seat after taking a sucker from the candy bowl and popping it into your mouth. Natasha brings two champagne flutes over as she sits next to you. She asks you something and your only response is to grab the abandoned pair of headphones and turn the volume up to true maximum level to drown out her repeating apologies. “Can I have some?” She removes the left side of your headphones to speak directly into your ear. When she has your attention, she nods to the candy that’s in your mouth. You roll your eyes and hand her the bowl only she never reaches for it. Instead, she goes for the sucker in your mouth, and she reaches for the end of the stick. Lightly tugging on it for you to release it from your tight grasp. Making a sound of annoyance and disapproval you swat her prying hands away.

“You’re not gonna share with me?” You once again shove the bowl of candy near Natasha, and she still doesn’t budge. That’s not what she wanted. This was her way of getting you to interact with her. To acknowledge her. It’s not the first time something so childish as candy could bring you back from a fit of rage and anger and back into her embrace of understanding and forgiveness. A little lighthearted interaction to let her know how deep in shit she was truly in once the two of you were back home and things went back to the everyday routine. Natasha makes a disapproving noise and tosses the candy bowl on the empty seat next to her. She’s had enough of your attitude and your unwillingness to hear her out, this wasn’t like any other excuse that truly needed her presence. Natasha quickly grips your face and turns your attention back on her.

“I didn’t plan this. Trust me I would rather still be on that yacht with you right now, but this is serious." You shrug her off of you, annoyed with her cryptic responses, she never really goes into detail about why things were serious or so urgent that you sit at the dinner table alone most nights. You remove the candy from your mouth and lick your lips, an action Natasha focuses on intensely. “You still haven’t told me what’s so serious that you cut our vacation short, a vacation I only got because you let Stark get in your head and you couldn’t keep your hands off of an attention seeking whore!” Your voice raises in volume and Clint and Bucky share a look but they remain in their seats unbothered. They’re pretty much used to the outbursts between you two and they’ll only intervene if Natasha tells them to. Meanwhile you lean away from her and place the candy back into your mouth seemingly being done with this conversation. Natasha rubs her face harshly and exhales a deep breath that she’s been holding since she got the news. Natasha calms her nerves trying to stay on her new path by managing her temper. She’s trying her best to communicate properly. “It has to do with Alexei.”

“Alexei?!” You could’ve cut the inside of your mouth with how fast you pulled the candy out of your mouth from hearing his name. She nods her head and swigs down her champagne. She was nervous. “You know just as much as anybody how dreadful this surprise meeting is going to be for me.” Natasha hasn’t spoken to Alexei directly in a long time and she hasn’t seen him in the flesh for even longer. The two of them never got along and when Natasha started to rebel against him and his orders, that caused the drift between them. The final straw that broke the camel's back was her continuing to defy him by being in a relationship with you. Once he found out about you two, things changed. He treated you differently, he deemed you as a distraction to his daughter. Of course, his attitude could only be expressed slightly back then with your father still being around and being the man in charge but once he was murdered, Alexei didn’t hold his tongue any longer. He had free reign to say anything he wanted. He Finally got to release the built-up aggression that built up over the years starting from the moment you came back, and the moment Natasha set her eyes on you.

The harsh and cruel words spewing out of his mouth no longer held back in the depths of his throat. The words remained there from the first day he caught you and Natasha together. The memories brought back pain not just yours but Natasha’s as well. You saw how she was treated by that man for as long as you’ve known her. You finally turn your whole body to her and the first thing you can see is the sincerity in her eyes. “I know.” You say with softness and love. You hold your hand out to her and she doesn’t touch you. You move your hand closer to her, placing it in her lap. “Are you gonna hold my hand or what?”

“That depends if you’re gonna slap me again or not.” You shake your head ‘no’ in response and she links her fingers with yours. Now you feel bad for slapping her knowing she has Alexei on her brain already, that abuse was enough on its own, even though your feelings and reaction was valid you needed to apologize. “I’m sorry for that by the way.” You use your other hand to rub against the cheek you previously struck. “No, you aren’t.” She cracks a smile and you return the same mirrored emotion back at her. “Okay, maybe not completely but I’m sorry for not hearing you out earlier.” You slowly exhale, lowering your gaze down to your abandoned hand on Natasha’s lap. “I was just really starting to get used to this kind of lifestyle.”

“You’ve always had a luxury lifestyle, what are you talking about?”

“Not that, I meant being normal. Having a normal and domestic lifestyle, that doesn’t involve waking up to random strangers in our living room or having to be pulled away from vacation after the shit I had to go through to even get here.” You take a brief moment to calm down. You weren’t trying to start another argument with her, not after you know what awaits her when this private jet lands. The mindset and preparation she has to readjust to. You feel the warm embrace of her hand in yours. Natasha gives you a firm and comforting squeeze before she finally links her fingers with yours. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I know I’ll never be able to truly escape it but it would be nice to put things on pause more often and just...get away.” You look to Natasha to answer your response as if your statement was a question. She understands perfectly without the use of your voice. She’s known how long you’ve wanted to get away and it was always put on the back burner, had she known that a vacation trip meant this much to you, your passport would’ve been overfilled with stamps by now. She feels guilty for neglecting you and not being attentive to your needs. All she had to do was make a call and everything you wanted would be everything you’d have. “We’ll take more trips…I promise.” You give her an annoyed look, it's something you’ve heard before and you’d rather not hear the lie again. “I’m serious, if you want to take a trip just book a flight or call Fitz to have the jet ready and we’ll go wherever you want.”

“Tash, you talk a sweet game, but we both know how this will play out.”

“I’m making changes, I’ve put in the effort and I’ve owned up to my mistakes. I’m being serious, I really mean it this time.” You hum with satisfaction as you see new determination in her eyes. Your hand tugs the collar of her shirt forward, you hold eye contact for a moment before your lips ghost over hers. “Next time something like this happens just tell me straight up, and don’t start with apologies. Do you understand Natalia? She smirks against your lips as they slightly graze each other. “Yes, my love.”

“Good.” You say, softly and finally lean forward to peck her lips you pull away way too soon for Natasha to even get started on her attack. You pull away with a smug smile while Natasha licks her lips tasting the remnants of sweetness from the cherry blow pop, she was practically begging for moments ago. “I’m stressed out over here and you’re teasing me?”

“You’re right” you go in for another kiss, but this time Natasha pulls you in and holds your face in place as she deepens the kiss. It’s sloppy and desperate, which is another silent sign that means she needs comfort and support right now. when you try pulling away again, she places her hand around your neck giving you a subtle squeeze as a warning to keep still. Natasha makes sure to savor the artificial flavor as she strokes her tongue around every part inside of your mouth. The noises you two pull from each other caused Clint to fully turn his hearing aids off and Bucky turns his headphones on max volume to drown out the lewd sounds. When she finally lets you come up for air, she admires your dazed expression and goes back to drinking her champagne as if nothing just happened.

“You just tried to kill me!” You say as you finally get the sensation of oxygen coming in again. she chuckles and turns her head towards you. “It’s your fault for not sharing with me.” Is all she says before shrugging her shoulders and sighing before she makes a move to get up. You quickly place your hand on hers stopping her movements, a silent question hung in the air about why she’s leaving her seat. “I need to plan things out with Clint and buck” you move your hand and silently nod in agreement but before she leaves you beckon her with your finger for one more kiss which she happily obliged to.

After a few playful nips and bites, you both pull away and you place the blow pop against Natasha’s wet lips. “I also forgot to mention that Alexei is meeting at our house tonight for dinner.” The moments of normalcy and domestication were over, now things were officially going back to what you've been used to since you were born. You just hope and pray that no one ends up dead but maybe that's asking for far too much when Alexei is at the center of the equation.

[sjsmith56]

A Better Man, Part 3 - Structure

Summary: Andrea moves into Bucky’s apartment with the help of two of his guys, Clint and Scott. Steve and Sam prepare for their double date with Natasha and a friend.

Length: 4.2 K

Characters: Bucky, Andrea, Clint Barton, Scott Lang, Sam, Steve.

Warnings: Some assumptions made about why Bucky’s helping Andrea. Some slight jealousy on his part, and a brief moment of panic when he sees something.

Author notes: Some more back story about Bucky.

<<Part 2

Part 3

The following day, Andrea and Lily moved to Bucky’s apartment. He assigned Clint and Scott to the truck, telling them to take whatever furniture Miss Hart wanted to take with her, while he helped her with her personal possessions. There was a moment when he looked at both men with a degree of exasperation when he told them to get a third man to help them when they returned the following day for the rest of her furniture.

“Which fence are we using?” asked Clint, assuming the furniture was stolen.

“No fence,” replied Bucky. “It’s going into my personal storage locker at SHIELD Storage.”

The two men looked at each other. “Boss, we’re not fencing this stuff?”

“No, this is a legit job, boys,” he said. “We’re going to move all her furniture, rewire her house, do some demolition to uncover some leaks and repair them, replace her roof and two windows. We’ll see what else needs doing as we go along. Then, when we’re finished, we’re moving her furniture back.”

“I don’t think I’ve done a legit job for you in the two years since I got out of prison,” said Scott. “What gives?”

Andrea appeared then, with a box from her bathroom, startling Bucky. “Where do you want me to put the things that are going to the apartment?” she asked.

“Right here is fine,” smiled Clint, who was quicker to catch on than Scott when he noticed how his boss reacted. “Why don’t you show me your daughter’s room, so I know which furniture pieces to take.”

“Sure, follow me,” she smiled.

Bucky waited until they were out of earshot. “She doesn’t know about the other things my company does. She’s had a tough break and I’m helping her out with fixing her place up because the bank wouldn’t give her the money to do it.”

“Ah, I get it,” said Scott, nodding his head. “Higher interest rate for the “loan” and if she doesn’t come through with the payments, then you put her to work. She’s cute; could bring in some coin with the right customers. Unless you want her for yourself.”

“No, it’s not like that, Scott,” sighed Bucky. “I don’t do things like that. You know what? Just move her things like I told you. Keep your mouth shut and don’t talk about being in prison. Tell Luis as well. I’m assuming you’re going to ask him to help move the rest of her things to the storage locker.” Scott shrugged then nodded. “Fine, but just don’t let on to her what my company really does. She’s a nice lady.”

“You got it.”

Scott picked up the box Andrea just brought out and took it out to the truck. When he got back Clint called him into the baby’s room where he had already partially taken apart the crib. Being a father himself he knew how to do it and had a zip lock bag for all the screws that would be needed to reassemble it. The two men spoke quietly about their boss doing a favour for this admittedly nice lady, mostly wondering what was in it for him. It was most unusual.

In Andrea’s room, Bucky was helping her pack clothing, then taking the suitcases and boxes out to the truck. They didn’t talk much but they were very much aware of each other. Helping her pack was a benign activity, but he found himself actually enjoying it. With her, he wasn’t Boss, the owner of a general contracting company that did a lot of side jobs for the mob, and other criminals. He was just Bucky, a regular guy. Lily, who was on the bed, sat happily watching them both. When she became hungry and began fussing, he excused himself, closing the door so Andrea could nurse her. Even that felt natural, giving her space to be a mother.

Clint and Scott were carrying the small dresser / change table from the baby’s room down the hallway. He went in, saw the crib mattress was still there and carried that out to the truck. Just a few more boxes would finish that room. Looking at how full the truck was Bucky wondered where it would all fit at his place. How could a baby have this much stuff? Clint saw where he was looking and grinned as Scott returned to the house.

“Babies need a lot,” he commented. “When Laura and I had our first we lived in a small one-bedroom flat. It was tight but we made it work. Of course, when she got pregnant again, we needed to move somewhere bigger.” Bucky smiled slightly but Clint could tell the man was worried. “Buck, who is she?”

“Rumlow’s ex-girlfriend. The baby is his daughter. She wants nothing to do with him.”

“Can’t say I blame her. He’s a real piece of work. Is she your girlfriend now? Is that why she’s moving in with you?”

“No. She had nowhere to live while I fix her house, so I offered my place to her.”

He gave his boss an appraising look, then patted him warmly on the arm and returned to the house. Bucky liked that about his guys. Without an exception they were decent guys at a basic level. Although many of his employees had served time for one thing or another, he never hired anyone who had committed a violent offence. No murderers, no rapists, or anyone that had assaulted a person during a crime. Hurting women, children, or senior citizens was seen by all of them as being the mark of an animal. About half of his employees, like Clint, were married family men. Unable to get a decent job that allowed them to support their families, with Barnes Contracting they had work that was usually manual labour but occasionally involved other illegal activities, mostly transporting stolen goods as needed by various criminal groups. Bucky drew the line at any violent crime, not taking any jobs that involved murder, assault, or kidnapping. Hydra Contracting didn’t have such morals and the owner’s nephew, Brock Rumlow, could be a very violent man.

An hour later they were packed up and on their way to the apartment. Bucky, who came with Clint and Scott in the truck, rode back with Andrea in her car. He had already arranged for the two men to use the service dock and elevator for the truck contents, but he directed Andrea to the regular parking garage door. Pulling a card out of his wallet, he handed it to her, gesturing for her to hold it over the sensor so the door opened.

“This is yours,” he said. “I have two spots but only use one. Don’t leave it in the car if you go out. If someone steals it, they can access the building.”

“Do I get my own keys?” she asked, as she entered the large space.

“Of course,” he answered. “They’re at security.”

He directed her to the parking spot and got out of the car. She came around to the passenger side back door and opened it, undoing the restraints on the baby carrier that Lily was in. Bucky took a couple of suitcases from the car and waited for her to join him at the elevator lobby.

“There are four resident elevators,” he explained. “Four suites per floor, except for the penthouse which has its own private access. You need the key card to slide into the reader and it takes you directly to the suite. Visitors have to be admitted by security and only after the resident has confirmed that they can come up. You can lock down the elevator door into the suite if you want to prevent anyone from entering that manages to get to the floor.”

“Is everyone who lives here paranoid, or something?” she asked, amused.

“Something like that,” he answered, his face serious. “Let’s just say we paid a lot of money for this type of security, and we all have a reason for it. We have to make a stop at the security desk so they can take your picture and Lily’s. Only they can issue an elevator key card.”

Her face dropped a little at that bit of news, but she followed him onto the elevator. After the brief ascent, the doors opened, and he escorted her into a richly appointed lobby area. Nodding his head at the guard on duty, Bucky presented his resident’s card.

“I need to register Miss Hart and her daughter as living with me for the next three months,” he said. “I have given her one of the two garage cards in my possession for the parking garage. She needs an elevator card. The truck with her possessions should be arriving at the service dock within minutes. The two men bringing her things are already registered with you.”

He gave the man Clint and Scott’s name, then signed several forms as Andrea watched, somewhat concerned at all the formalities. She was told to stand in front of a small digital camera and stand still for a moment without smiling. Lily had to come out of her carrier and held up for the same thing but at least they didn’t try to stop her from having a happy face. Several minutes later Andrea received the elevator card, and both her and Lily’s resident card. From there, they could finally ascend to the 21st floor where the elevator opened directly into Bucky’s apartment, a bright and modern space.

“This is it,” he said. “Three bedrooms, each with their own bathroom, plus there is a powder room for visitors. I’ve made the third bedroom into a home gym since I usually don’t have the inclination to go to the one on site. Feel free to use either.” He gestured towards the large wall of windows that were very visible from where they stood. “It’s open plan, combined living / dining, and kitchen. Come on, I’ll show you where you and Lily can sleep.”

He led her down a short hallway, stopping to show her the home gym. Next to it was a large bedroom with a queen-sized bed, two nightstands, a walk-in closet with built in drawers, a small seating area, and a wall-mounted TV. Like the open plan area, the exterior wall was all glass, giving an impressive view of the city. Placing the suitcases on the bed he stood there, watching Andrea’s reaction to everything.

“It’s really nice,” she said, looking back at him from where she stood in front of the window. “Are the rooms soundproofed? I won’t hear you using your gym or if you have an overnight guest, will I?”

“I don’t date,” he answered, feeling his cheeks become warm. “My room is on the other side of the apartment. The rooms are very well soundproofed but if you hear anything from the gym, please let me know. I don’t have to be in there in the middle of the night.”

He wanted to walk over to where Andrea was standing and take in the view with her, but he heard the indicator of the elevator arriving and left her there. It was Clint and Scott, bringing up the change table and crib pieces on a flatbed dolly. They had been at his place before, and he told them to take everything except the food to the guest bedroom. The food would go into the kitchen to be added to his own supply. Returning down to the parking garage, Bucky retrieved everything that was packed in her vehicle, including the stroller. As he went up the elevator with it, he couldn’t help but picture himself going for walks with Andrea and Lily. It brought a smile to his face that he still had when the elevator doors opened.

“Good, you’re back,” said Scott, who was waiting for the elevator. “Clint is assembling the crib, so I need help for the rest of the stuff.”

It made sense that Clint would take on that task, but Bucky felt a small sense of jealousy of not being the one to assemble it. He already felt a sense of responsibility for Andrea and Lily; the thought of another man doing something that he wanted to do bothered him. Being bothered by it bothered him. For the next while he helped Scott unload the truck. On several of the returns he found Clint and Andrea just standing there, talking, and laughing. What is he doing? Is he flirting with her? He’s a married man. His temper became shorter with each trip, until he dropped the final box of clothing with a thud on the floor of the guest bedroom, startling both of them. Even Lily, sitting on a blanket in front of the window, jumped.

“Are you done here?” he asked Clint. “Scott needs help bringing the food from the pantry and fridge.”

“Yeah, Boss,” smiled the older man. “We were just sharing baby stories. It’s been a while since I was around a six-month old. The things that she’s gonna do in the next year are going to blow Andrea’s mind.”

They’re on a first-name basis? Jesus fucking ….

Recognizing the look that was forming on Bucky’s face, Clint said his goodbyes to Andrea and left. She seemed oblivious to Bucky’s mood, ignoring how tense he seemed.

“He’s so nice,” she said, as she unpacked a box of clothing onto the bed, sorting it. “Thinks the world of you, Steve, and Sam. Said you helped him through a tough time. I guess you really are one of the good ones.”

Shit, why did he have to say that to her? Just when he was building up a good mad at Clint.

“I’m not really but I try to treat people fairly.” That was lame. “Do you need help unpacking?”

“Sure, just grab a suitcase and open it. I can tell you where I want the contents to go. It sure is nice having built-in cabinetry in the closet. Without dressers in here the room is plenty big enough for the crib and change table.”

He opened a suitcase then closed it again, quickly. It was the one with her lingerie in it. He couldn’t handle those items, not without …. Shit, shit, fuck, fuck. Why did I think of that? Andrea looked over at him, frowning, then reached over and opened it. A small smile on her face was the only sign she understood his reaction.

“Why don’t I handle the clothing, and you go start unpacking the food boxes?” she suggested.

Only too happy to take Andrea’s suggestion, Bucky went to the kitchen, where a couple of boxes waited to be opened. He took everything out, assembling it on the large kitchen island, then began transferring them to his mostly bare pantry. By then Scott and Clint came up with a fully loaded dolly and brought it into the kitchen, stacking the boxes on the counter.

“That’s it, boss,” said Clint. “You need us to help unpack this lot?”

He glanced at the pair and shook his head. “No, you’ve done enough.” Realizing that sounded petty he stopped what he was doing. “Thanks for coming out. You’ll be at Andrea’s place tomorrow with Luis for the rest?”

“Could we have another person?” asked Clint. “Some of her furniture is older stuff that she inherited from her grandmother. That stuff was built to last and is a lot heavier than the newer things.”

“Sure, see who’s in the warehouse tomorrow morning and take your pick,” answered Bucky. “Do you want to be on the general construction crew for her renovation? Clint, you’ve done renovations before, right?”

“Yeah, I've done roofing, finishing, drywall, and painting, too. Maybe we should get more of the guys used to doing real work. Give them a taste of how the rest of the world makes a living.”

“Probably a good idea,” said Bucky. “Get an idea of who’s interested. I have to do some exploratory work first on the areas she wants done and submit plans to the borough for the permits.” The other two men looked at each other. Bucky was getting permits for this renovation? Bucky looked up again. “Are we good here? See you tomorrow when I stop by the house.”

With a nod and a quick stop to say goodbye to Andrea the two men left and went down the elevator. It didn’t need a card to descend but they still stopped at the security desk to say they had finished and were leaving the loading dock. Not much was said between them on the drive back, then just before Clint pulled into the street where the warehouse was Scott cleared his throat.

“Do you think Bucky is thinking of going legit?”

“What makes you say that?” asked Clint, although he had been thinking it the entire trip over.

“No fence for the furniture, he’s doing a legal renovation, no cutting corners, and he gives this woman and her baby a place to stay while he’s working on her place. At first, I thought it was a play to get into her pants or turn her into a working girl, but he shot that down pretty fast.”

“You ever been in love, real love?” Clint looked at Scott as they waited for someone to remote open the gate into the warehouse yard. Scott shook his head. “Take it from me. He’s got it bad for her. He got hurt bad a few years ago by his girlfriend at the time. I didn’t think he would ever trust another woman again, but this one has got under his skin and to be honest, I think it’s a good thing. I think being around her makes him want to be a better man.” He pulled into the yard and backed up into a parking spot before turning off the ignition and sitting there. “If he goes legit, I’m staying with him. You won’t find many better bosses than Bucky Barnes, legit or not.”

“You’re right there,” agreed Scott. He looked towards the security door into the warehouse which had just opened to show Sam waiting for them. “Looks like someone wants to talk to us.”

“Everything go, okay?” asked Sam, as they approached the door into the warehouse.

“Yeah,” replied Clint. “We’re taking Luis and someone else with us tomorrow to move her furniture into storage. Boss said he’ll drop by Andrea’s house then.”

“Good, good,” said Sam, as they walked past several rows of shelving with assorted merchandise on them. “We’ve got a couple of shipments to make tomorrow, but we should have enough trucks and guys to handle it. He’s not coming back tonight, is he?”

“No, he was helping her unpack at his place,” said Clint.

“Good,” said Sam, again, then he stopped at a desk and picked up a box, handing it to Clint. “Your oldest needs one of these for school, right?”

The older man looked at the tablet computer box and smiled. “You remembered. Thanks.”

“No problem. Mrs. Parker has already deleted the serial number from the theft report so it should register properly when your son sets it up. If you two want to call it for the day you can. There’s nothing pressing here.”

Both men picked up their car keys and left. As Sam headed to the hallway that connected the warehouse to the office, he looked at his watch. Steve had called that Natasha woman to set something up for the pair of them tonight and he had an hour to get ready, if he could get out of here now. Without Bucky brooding behind his desk in his office, that was more likely to happen. He came out to the quiet space, noting Mrs. Parker was also gone. The lights were mostly off, leaving only his and Steve’s offices illuminated. Leaning against the door frame of Steve’s office, he watched for a moment as the man finished something on his computer.

“Everything go okay with the move?” he asked, glancing at the standing man.

“Yup, and he’s staying home to help her unpack,” said Sam. “You almost done?”

“Yeah, just gotta dot a couple of more i’s and cross a few t’s.” With a flourish, he saved the work he was doing and logged out, then turned his computer off, swivelling his chair towards Sam. “You ready to go?”

“Yup, just need to know where we’re going so that I can dress appropriately.”

“Barcelona Tapas Bar,” said Steve. “We’re meeting them there at 7:30. Dancing starts at 9, and then you’re on your own.”

“Nice, how did you manage to score reservations there?”

“Promised the manager a crate of Cartizze Prosecco,” said Steve. Sam made a face as it was a premium brand with a big price tag. “I called in some favours. It was delivered this afternoon, and he confirmed our reservations a few minutes later.”

“Rogers, you never cease to amaze me,” smiled Sam. “Shall I pick you up or are we meeting each other there?”

“Meet there.”

With a wave, Sam grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, leaving Steve to finish locking up. He took a good look at the premises, making sure no one was lurking anywhere, and all the doors were locked properly. Then he turned off his office lights, set the alarm system and stepped out, locking the front door. Tonight was going to be a great night.

🍕 🍕

At Bucky’s apartment, he had finally finished putting all the food away that was brought from Andrea’s house. He was about to check on her when she came out of the hallway of her bedroom.

“Well, I fed her and got her down,” she said, approaching the kitchen island. “Can’t believe she hardly slept for most of the day. Maybe I’ll be lucky, and she’ll sleep through the night. If she does, I’ll have to get up and express some milk. You’re okay if I put expressed milk in the freezer, right? It’s handy to have on hand.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” he replied. “You okay if I order in some food? I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel much like cooking.”

“Sure, is pizza alright? Ham and mushroom are my favourite toppings.”

“I like loaded but we can get a half and half,” said Bucky, pulling his phone out. Using the app, he placed the order. “It’ll be here in half an hour.”

They were quiet then both began to talk. Bucky gestured to her to go ahead.

“I don’t know much about you, but something you said stuck with me,” she began. “Why don’t you date?”

Bucky let out an audible breath, then walked over to the couch, gesturing to her to sit.

“I had a girlfriend, Dot, who I really loved. Wanted to marry her. Thought she was the one. You know, all that stuff that you’re supposed to feel when you decide you want to share your life with someone. You see my place here. It’s a nice place and the company made enough money for me to buy it, outright. She really liked this modern style of finishing. I brought her here, intending to propose right in front of these windows. She said no; said I wasn’t enough for her and this place wasn’t enough for her to live in. I guess she was expecting a different lifestyle; something grander, more expensive, flashier. You already know me enough to know that’s not me. I was never into the bar or nightclub scene. To me, the perfect life is a family and a quiet corner of the world to be with them. She took the elevator down and I haven’t seen her since. I’ve heard she’s hooked up with some mobster who gives her whatever she wants. So, I figured it was better not to date and be disappointed again.”

“That’s awfully lonely,” commented Andrea.

Bucky nodded his head in agreement. Then you walked into my life. “Maybe someday I’ll get up the courage to try again.”

When the pizza arrived, Bucky put a movie on, and they each curled up on a corner of the couch. It was a pleasant and quiet way to spend the evening. Andrea received a text message from Natasha, telling her about the double date she was on, and how much fun she was having. She didn’t name names, but she hinted that both men were known to Andrea. She was glad Natasha was having a good time, wondering who else went with her. None of her returned texts were answered so she decided to leave it until the next day before she phoned her best friend. The movie ended about 9:30 and both called it a night, having worked hard the entire day.

Part 4>>

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