#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.

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[missmarveledsblog]

Once in a lifetime kinda deal (Mafia!Bucky Barnes x reader)

Part one: Father dearest what ?

Summary: When the daughter of Tony Stark is in an arranged marriage with her bodyguard's best friend. Another mafia boss James Barnes the two find themselves liking the arrangement more than expected although the life of a mafia boss is never smooth sailing

Warnings: strong language , fast burn , goofy, Tony starks sarcasm , readers sarcastic ass , mafia au , age gap (legal reader 24 , buckys 40s )

To say it was awkward was probably an understatement, what was supposed to be a regular job suddenly went tits up and in a fast way hell she was only doing the job to pay for college . She, as well as three  of her coworkers, sat in some kitchen while watching the rain outside poured down , kids long gone while they waited to be paid . Being fairies for kids parties was fun most times, while other times not so fun especially with some creep of a  dad  was slipping numbers in the straps of their dresses  with a slimy wink was definitely a downside. Another was the owner gave them alcohol while they waited and now she sat with three drunk fairies . didn’t help when they did leave , they could barely stand so she was the one to apologize  only for the father to slip his number and ask her to work his club sometime.  With a a polite rejection ,  she went out to the car , lucky for her it was her uncle to collect them .

“ Hey, have fun girls” he chuckled.

“ they sure did happy ” she rolled her eyes .

“ bad one huh?” he asked.

“ well other than creepy dads and spoiled kids it was a great one” she huffed pullin a sweatshirt over herself.

“ Come on, we get food in them,” he laughed. She ignored their slurred chats with her uncle knowing he was being his gentleman self to make sure they ate  before getting them home.

“ Why do you do this?” Maya slurred.

“ because I want to pay for my own college” she shrugged.

“ but your dad’s one of the richest dudes, and you got hot uncles , happy abd the adonis” Maya whined.

“ Probably because of their gangsters,” Kelly whispered .  She just rolled her eyes knowing they were dying to say it and now with the bravery of the alcohol .

“ ok girls we're here” he called opening the door seeing it was one of the many places her dad was the owner of  pulling off the sweatshirt she ran into the restaurant getting out of the rain .

“ you ok” her uncle asked again .

“i’m fine least they said it instead of tip-toeing” she laughed as the two walked in.

“ no alcohol for them” he called as the waiter walked over to the table as the girl collectively whine. “ i’ll see if your dad’s here” he smiled before leaving her to the other drunk fairies.

“ this place is insane” the girls  giggled and snorted .

“ yeah it’s something” she hummed wishing she went home instead .

“ what can i get you ladies” the waiter eyed them up sleazy grin on his face.

“ some burgers and fries please” she smiled but the man look at her like she asked for his social security and pay check in one.

“ we don’t do that here the denny’s down the road might be more your pace” he scoffed.

“ i always have cheese burgers here and don’t assume from how were dressed ..” .

“ that your strippers trying to eat and run” he snickered.

“ hey her daddy runs this place” kelly stood swaying slightly.

“ sugar daddies don’t count” he rolled his eyes . “ look girls i’m not missing out on actual customers so ..”  He was cut off by the sound of a clearing of a throat.

“ Mr. Rogers,” he gasped.

“ hey stevie happy’s gone see if dad’s here” she smiled as the mans face paled.

“ hey pretty girl” sam walked up .

“ so burger and fries thank you” she turned to the waiter.

“ right away miss stark” he ran off .

“ wow that was so cool” kelly laughed.

“ girls have fun” sam winked making them giggle like school girls .

“ they did  i guess my dad is actually here” she nodded.

“ why am i seeing fairies” a voice called .

“ because pretty girl here works as one for parties duh” sam scoffed .

“ kids parties” she corrected .

“ we could change that for you guys” maya winked.

“ they could i still do kids parties” she laughed

.  “Damn shame” the mysterious stranger smirked .

“ so hows college going” steve asked playfully pushing the man at his side  .

“ kicking my ass but i love it” she smiled brightly.

“ princess  boss wants to see you” happy called .

“ oh great” she huffed .

“ Happy, can you watch them” she pleaded.

“ course i can '' he smiled  as she walked by as the men followed after.

“ so the boss rents out fairies now” the stranger asked.

“ only on Saturdays, '' she called back .

'' So what are  you a sugar baby? '' the stranger asked again .

“ bucky shut up, '' Steve hissed.

“ i’m better than a sugar baby” was all she said before the men nodded.

“ shit is that his wife” she could hear him whisper.

“ new guy shush” she laughed as they walked into the room .

“ my beautiful daughter everyone” she looked as her father stood and they followed .  “ Hey dad , it’s nice to meet you all” she smiled .

“ Are you still doing that kid party thing?” he asked.

“No, I dressed like this for fun” she rolled her eyes .

“ its cute kid, '' Rhodey laughed.

'' Come on sit, happy's gonna bring your friends home” her father smiled, almost too friendly for her liking .

“ what’s going on? '' she whispered to Natasha Romanoff, one of her fathers favorite co-workers, giving the woman's looks and abilities to get a job done quick and easy and her mothers sister.

“ i’m sorry” was all she said .

“  so you're all here for the partly all of you men have been selected for a reason  , one of you is a suitable suitor for my dearest Y/N  here” she heard the words as clear as day yet it wasn’t like she did at all . she knew it was coming. Most girls in this life were basically sold off  to strengthen the business side of things.

“ Wait tony think about this” rhodey almost spat his drink .

“ I did it’s time” he dismissed him instantly. “ Dad, may I speak to you privately?” she asked sweetly .

“ Of course pumpkin” he smiled as she led the way only for Bruce to open the door .

“ thanks banner” she smiled so forcefully . Once the door was closed she wanted to throw something at her father .

“ What the hell  did you fall and hit your head ? “ was all she could say .

“ Look  I get i blindsided you but it’s all your choice ok , kid people need to know i run tight ship and you're part of that ship” he sighed.

“ What else aren’t you telling me” she looked at him.

“ well it’s peter , he fucked up big time lost a big a shipment” he explained .

“ that why you don’t let kids fucking do this” . “ I know but now I need you to do this for me , I'll make sure you still stay in college and all that good stuff, “ he pleaded .

“ I pick the suitor if I don't like them, it doesn't happen” she said knowing it was only the way she could gain control of the situation .

“done ,  there’s a dress there pep pick it out after she threw a vase at my head” he rubbed the back of his neck.

“ of all my stepmothers she’s my favorite” she smiled sadly knowing why the woman wasn’t here .

“ I'll let you change,” he smiled brightly .

“ kind of you” she scoffed  .

“ Kid it’s either that or Peter pays” he sighed. “ Why do you think i’m doing it ? cause it not for you ” she growled, pulling the dress out .

Steve sat looking around the room pissed off wondering how Tony could do this and by looking at her face she wasn’t expecting it, another thing he knew it was for real . she couldn’t go with any of these men , all animals in their own way especially how Rumlow  was looking at her. That was only telling he would put on the charm but they all knew how he really treated the women in his life , hell the last one found the bottom of a lake more appealing .  He could feel Sam stiffen up as well knowing he and many of the Avengers gang  didn’t like this. They loved Y/N  like a sister or niece and this wasn’t what they wanted for her.  Then like a lightbulb went off in his head he looked to his best friend beside him , He was his own man  nearly  up there with the Starks and he didn’t miss how Bucky froze a little in his spot when he met the stark girl .

“ I need to pull in that favor,” steve whispered.

“ which favor punk” bucky looked around the table he didn’t want her to go with these men they were cruel bastards .

“ when i saved your life , I need you to save another” he whispered.

“ is that why you brought me here?” he arched his brow.

“ no but i mean it works out better this way , come on we can work out details doesn’t need to be a real wedding” steve pleaded.

“ hey I'll cash in my favor too” sam caught on to what they were talking about .

“ Fine, I'll put myself forward as a suitor , she really means this much to you both” he asked as the men nodded.

“ she helped my sister out of a real bad situation , look a girl like her shouldn’t have to do this she a saint amongst sinners” sam sighed.

“ Plus you get in with starks like you want,” Steve added.

“ I'm rethinking that” he shook his head.

“ plus i saw your eyes when you looked at her,” Steve smirked.

“ you need your eyes checked punk” bucky smiled although his best friend wasn’t lying but he felt bad for his lie .

“ Now she agreed gentlemen so let's just have a meal then we can talk another time '' Tony announced taking his seats ignoring the glares from his own men and nat . 

“ What's the deal with it all?” Rumlow smiled.

“ She picks the suitor, it's her choice and her rules” Tony  took his wine . “ If you don't like it, there's the door,” he added.

“ she ok” nat asked.

“ yeah she just changing out of her fairy thing” tony shrugged.

“ i’ll go check on her” nat smiled hand squeezing tony’s shoulder a little harder making the man smile through gritted teeth.

“ malyshka” she asked, coming further into the office.

“ down here” she called laying on the floor.

“ If you want, we can run now. I'll get Bruce to get the car ready” she looked down .

“ And then how will you adopt then?” she looked up at the redhead.

“ doesn’t matter ,  I promised my sister i wouldn’t let you get sold off like she did”she shook her head.

“ my dad isn’t like drekov he’ll let me choose” she smiled sadly.

“ he is a little but look we can go when your ready” the red head mused.

“ i’m doing it nat peter in trouble  my dad’s fault for trusting a kid to do something so big but he’s my brother i have to ” she sighed .

“ well then i’m making sure whoever it is will know the widows will be watching”.

“ i’ve no doubt they will , how is yelena” she asked standing pulling the dress over her head .

“ well lucky she not here is all i can say” she laughed dryly.

“ look i’ll be fine i can take care of myself thanks to you” she winked pulling the black dress over her head .

“ ok he so lied about pepper picking this” she scoffed as the black body con hugged every part of her body .

“ the one she picked out was down to your ankle” nat laughed.

“ hey hand me his jacket there” she called  as she pulled the silver belt off her fairy costume.  Pulling her fathers coat over her it covered her to extent , she look classier then the first choice that was for sure as she pulled the belt around her .

  “ nice job” nat eye appraisingly rake over the impromptu change of attire.

“ well lets do this”she smiled .

“ what are you planning” nat quirked her brow.

“ nothing at all” she smirked as the widow snorted.

He couldn’t believe he was even doing this , he stood in front of tony stark telling him , he was interested in being put into the pool of suitors .

“ I'm surprised I thought you didn't marry barnes” tony asked.

“ a man can change” he shrugged yet their was secret look between the men .

“ i mean business wise he would be the best choice” steve interjected .

“ he’s not wrong but it’s not my choice so i’ll you in” tony nodded .

“ Thanks” he went to walk back to his seat, two men sharing almost a secret exchange .

“ Sit  here , you move” he said as the walker got up .

“ Sir, I could take care of her,” John began.

“ move” tony repeated.  The door swung open and the room went completely quiet  all eyes on her  even though Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away . She looked like a model or angel or both. He wasn't sure yet only to hear a chuckle from his best friend .

“ don’t mind me using your jacket dad, its a bit chilly ” she smiled sweetly but he could see her testing her father almost willing him to say something .

“ yeah it’s nice on you kid , sharon .. i mean pepper picked great” he smiled forcefully.

“ bingo”she smirking as his  eyes narrowed slightly .

“ You look like a great doll” bucky smiled. “Thank you … sorry i didn’t get your name” she held her hand out.

“ jame barnes but friends call me bucky '' he kissed her hand.

'' So sweets what was with the get up before '' Rumlow called.

“ I work as a fairy for kids' parties so I can pay for my own college fees” she smiled.

“ daddy can’t pay, ''he snorted.

'' Daddy could buy the whole college but I wanted to be independent in my own way, learning the world around you helps' ' she smiled sweetly yet her grip on the knife suggested otherwise. “ i mean most of the people put on a front for you guys it hard to read them but when you do what i do you find a lot more under the surface” she added. “ i like that , what do you do in college doll” bucky asked.

“ she is a business and law major” tony cut in actually sounding proud.

“ nah girls belong at home this modern shit fills their heads with crap” rumlow laughed. “ i think it’s great y/n’s smart as hell” steve smiled proudly.

“ i agree with rogers” clint winked .

“ good thing im a women and not a girl then “

“ so doll what’s the fairy business like” bucky smiled.

“ kids are great well sometimes it’s the parents that suck , i mean i think the dad today thought he was getting lucky getting the girls drunk but happy came and got us” she nodded her grip relaxing on the knife.

“ speaking of happy informed me they got back safe” her father smiled.

“ good lets eat i’m starving” she called as the same waiter from before came in hands shaking as he placed the food down .

“ would you like anything else ma’am” he asked a tremble in his voice.

“ nah we’re good thank you” .

“ what was that about” her father asked.

“ nothing misunderstanding” she shrugged.

“ exactly i learned my lesson sir” he squeaked as she nodded. “ fine go” he wave his hand. 

“глупый идиот

(silly idiot)”she giggled as nat laughed.

“он безобидная кукла

(he’s harmless doll)” bucky smirked.

“ stop talking russian darling it’s rude” her father hissed.

“ you don’t speak it , none of you?” she asked as they all shook their heads.   She looked down at her phone to see message from steve “ lift home with me” . she gave him a quick nod before turning her head to listen to the stupid stories of the men around her. It was an hours later most of the men starting to slur words and braver with their words and praises making her uncomfortable even her father could see it.

“ time for you to go” he clapped his hand.

“ i’ll take her i haven’t drank “ steve stood . “great thanks rogers entertainments coming anyways” tony smirked as the women walked in half dressed in next to nothing .

“ now the real show is here” rumlow smirked . “ i’m going to head off too” bucky stood just as a woman went to sit on his lap .

“ let me walk you out”her father smiled .   she only glared at her father seeing the rest of the so call entertainment walking by .

“ don’t get any of these pregnant pepper wouldn’t be happy” she scoffed .

“ pepper is coming too” he rolled his eyes.

“  ok was nice meeting you bucky” she said shaking the mans hand before heading out to the car barely looking at her father .

“ i’ll see you later” steve nodded before he followed.

“ you passed test one barnes” was all tony said before walking back into the room as they all cheered. 

She sat in the car looking down at her hands the brave front breaking  once she was out of her fathers presence.

“ look i didn’t know that was happening i would of warned you” he said just as the car opened and the two men  getting in .

“ i know stevie” she smiled wiping her eyes. “ we have a plan  one everyone’s happy with” he said .

“ wait i’m getting in “ a voice called

“ natalia” bucky nodded.

“ ok as i was saying  you still need to marry someone but this way your safe and well yeah” he said .

“ whats the plan” she sniffled as nat took her hand knowing she was being too strong.

“ you pick bucky” sam smirked.

“ you’ll get your own room in my place , continue college all you need to do is come to events and stuff with me” he smiled softly.

“ why you helping” nat asked.

“ because these punks begged me and i hate the whole marriage business thing” he sighed.

“ so whats the catch” she asked.

“ none , having a wife and part of your dads business helps me and well you don’t end up a slave for those assholes in there” he explained.

“ steve how much do you trust his word” she asked.

“ with my life it’s why i suggested it” steve promised.

“ sam?” .

“ same as steve , look pretty girl its bucky or Rumlow” sam sighed.

“ i’ll text my father” she nodded. “ leave it till tomorrow ,make it look like its not a plan” bucky nodded.

“ well  boys for this you got the trust and business with the widows” nat smiled .

“ another thing  you have to let me pay for your college” bucky added.

“ i like my job” she lied.

“ i mean if you wanna be fairy you can but i pay for your college” he shook his head.

“ oh i got invited to breakfast at yours so i guess i’ll see you in the morning too” he winked . nat watched the two before she smiled looking at steve in the mirror two sharing a knowing smirk of what would unfold.

“ no mistresses in the house if you do that do it in hotel” she added.

“ i don’t do mistresses doll” he said she almost believed him .

“  you gave up the whole playboy thing right?” nat asked making the girl beside her head spin .

“ i did  got sick of the show , you done your research romanoff” he chuckled.

“ i make sure my niece is  safe” she shrugged.

“ speaking of Yelena going to have tony’s balls for this” steve chuckled.

“ oh that’s a long line trust me” nat rolled her eyes.

“ So why are you agreeing to this?” Bucky asked.

“ You can tell him princess,” Steve nodded.

“ My little brother , well he is not actually my brother but he is , my dad took him in as a debt repayment when he was like two  , I was six  anyways my dad trusted him with a big job that well has us in this mess” she sighed. “ Wait parker? He like a child wait again how old are you” he asked.

“Twenty four  ” she shrugged.

“ oh great midlife crisis marriage” bucky sighed ignoring how good the sound of her giggles were to his ears.

“ well lucky the marriage is for show huh old man” she winked .

“ already busting my balls” he teased.

“ oh this is gonna be good” sam chuckled .

Once nat brought her up making sure she was ok , she sat looking around her room probably last she would see of it knowing her father would rush the union once decided. Stripping the remains of her clothes she sent her boss that she was leaving  the job.  Before she jumped into pair of shorts and sweatshirt on pulling out her textbooks  laying them all around the bed . steve and  sam all asking how she was so she sent them a selfie of her studying ,  she looked down to see an unknown number ringing.

“ you’ll get a bad back studying like that doll” she couldn’t help smile at the familiar voice. “ well mr barnes how in the word did you get my number” she chewed on the pen suddenly the words on the page were not as interesting .

“ i may of saw the selfie and felt left out” he teased .

“  steve?” she asked.

“ i asked your dad for your number too” she could hear his grin in the phone.

“ for a selfie of me in my dorky state” she laughed.

“ hey what can i say dorky chicks are needed” . “ well if that's it ,  i need to dork it out some more big test coming up” she giggled .

“ oh talk dirty for me baby” he joked his laugh taking over .

“ good night barnes” she snorted.

“ good night doll” he chuckled .  she could help the  flush to her cheeks  could she blame herself no  , not at all man was sex on legs and knew it.

“ Y/N” She could here the sadness in his voice.

“ hey petey come on” she called place  her phone down what she didn’t know was she hit the hang up  button .

“ m’sorry i got you dragged into this , maybe if i talk to dad i could sort it out  , i’ll work for whoever” he started pacing the room .

“ hey it’s ok look dad prick for even getting you to do such a big job , where was i when this was decided” she asked .

“ ballet classes or maybe away with the fairies” he teased .

“ ok funny boy look shit head i got it sorted well steve does so what i want you to do in return is be a kid not deal with this shit just to prove something to dad cause you don’t have to now like a good big sister i seen you got into MIT so if i do this you gotta do that for me” she hugged him unaware of the third party listening in on the phone.

“ please don’t tell me it’s rumlow” peter asked.

“ nah definitely not this guys nice and not just nice front but he seems like a good guy” she nodded.

“Good guys in the mob?” he arched his brow. “ hey their not all ass grabbing alcoholics” she winked making him chuckle.

“ you think dad would let me go MIT” he asked .

“ i’ll talk to him tomorrow at breakfast when you meet bucky”she smiled .

“ looking forward to it doll” the voice called. “ you know it rude to listen to a private conversations” she said as her face heated up . “ hey kid i’ll talk to your dad too bye doll” he called making her hang up and throw herself into her pillow.

“Was that him?” peter squeaked.

“ uh huh” her voice muffled .

“ whats got you smiling” steve walked in .

“ she really loves that kid huh?” bucky shook his head.

“ peter of course he’s good kid not made for this life , his folk owed money but couldn’t pay stark went to pay them a visit and well took the kid as payment mainly because they weren’t able to look after him cared more about drugs turns out that night the dad went on rampage snapped on the drugs and killed a bunch of people” steve shook his head.

“ did you know she did ballet” he asked .

“ course i did , drove her most her lessons makes her feel closer to her mom” he arched his brow but he wasn’t blind he could see it on his best friend already smitten .

“ is the big bad barnes crushing on his soon to be wife” steve teased.

“ nah just nice to see caring souls in this line of work is all” he shrugged.

“ So you are asking Stark for her number?”.

“  i asked stark to arrange it once she tells him yes its a done deal” bucky shrugged ignoring his friends looks .

“ you already asked” steves eye widened .

“ actually stark rang me and i asked him to arrange it after she says yes” he smirked.

“ you  think maybe you should tell her this or maybe everything else you failed to mention in the car” steve looked around the room knowing it wouldn’t be a secret for long.

“ look let's just get this breakfast over, I'll tell her tomorrow.” he sighed, making himself a drink .

“ you know i can read you like a book jerk '' Steve chuckled. “ hell even nat spotted it '' he added.

“ i don’t know what your talking about punk it’s just business' ' bucky winked .

'' oh that poor bastard, '' Steve chuckled as his friend walked out the room .

thanks for reading , if you want to be added to taglist let me know ❤️

[abbatoirablaze]

Deal With The Devil Master List

This story is completed. ✔️

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

[604to647]

I remember when this pic of Clint dropped and I just thought: but I’m sure he’s a little meow meow on the inside 🥹

Pedro Pascal and his characters’ facial scars

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

three times

a/n: some time ago i asked you guys on a poll what dude you wanted in this story and you all chose bucky, so here it is! also, i partly blame you all for how unhinged it turned out... like you get maybe 6,69% of the blame for the push you gave me... the rest is just me being a hoe

summary: a tale of the three times a nurse was kidnapped by new york’s most notorious gang. 

warnings: dark!mob boss!bucky barnes x nurse!reader x doctor!peter parker, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, mob au, mobsters!steve rogers, clint barton, tony stark, scott lang, bruce banner, the gang is called the avengers, doctor!kate bishop, enemies to lovers, kidnapping, violence, weapons, blood, being drugged, alcohol consumption, possessiveness, kissing, clothed x completely naked, panty sniffing, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, gaping, belly bulge, oral, fingering, fisting, pussyjob, in bucky's mind it's brat taming, dumbification, impact play, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, somno, bondage, mild knife play, mild gunplay, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay

word count: 11.574

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

You flinched jaggedly as the dark cloth bag was finally ripped off your head. Eyes immediately squinting, they still strained to take in the unfamiliar space you’d been dragged to. 

You were no longer in the hospital’s dark parking lot, nor were you in the black van you’d suddenly been tossed into, but instead, you found yourself in a dark living room. It was elegantly decorated, from the Persian rug to the dramatic, antique fireplace flicking behind the cluster of suit-clad criminals glaring down at you. 

“This her?” one of them grumbled. 

“Yep, one doctor as per your request,” the one who’d abducted you grinned, proudly planting a palm on his hip, “even choose a pretty one just for shits and giggles,” his starkly different mannerisms only made the others seem that much more intimidating. 

The broad-figured one with a shock of sandy hair then stepped closer to where you stood, “alright, here’s the thing, doc,” his head tilted slightly to get on your level as he spoke to you directly, “you’re gonna do exactly as we say and then everything will be alright, okay?” he stared in your eyes as you offered him a shaky nod, “okay,” he exhaled, “you got a name?”

“Y/n Y/l/n…” you uttered before hearing yourself try to correct, “but I–…”

“But what?” the same man croaked. 

“I-I’m not a doctor…”

“God damn it!” someone rumbled as everyone’s eyes flicked to the man who’d captured you, “we can’t fucking trust the new guy to do anything.”

“Well, she’s wearing scrubs,” he tried, frantically gesturing to your uniform, “I just thought–”

“You fucked up, Lang!” the first man who you’d heard speak barked loudly, “and now we’re not just gonna lose one of our brothers tonight, but also the head of the snake. Great fucking job,” a sharp click then caused your eyes to find the gun he yanked out, “and now she gotta die as well–”

“Wait!” you shrieked as both of your palms shot up in the air, “no! Please don’t kill me! I-I’m a nurse! I’m a nurse! I can help! Whoever’s hurt, I can help!”

Seemingly superior to the others present, the blonde one stared at you intensely for a while before exhaling a verdict, “shit… well, I guess it’s better than nothing…” his polished shoes then began to shuffle before he gestured to you, “come this way.” 

Hesitantly, you slowly shadowed him out of the living room, down a dim hallway, and into the chamber that bloomed at the bottom of the corridor. In the centre of the dark room, bathed by two glowing pendants, stood a large pool table, and upon the green felt, with colourful orbs haphazardly scatted all about, there laid a man, unconscious and bleeding. 

The brunette’s suit was sodden with crimson, though you couldn’t tell from here how much of it was his own. 

The gangster who was standing by the side and watching over the wounded individual glanced up at your arrival and asked his fellow men, “this the doctor?” 

“No, it’s a fucking stripper,” you twisted your neck at the sarcastic tone as the guy who’d only moments ago pulled a gun on you waltzed past you and entered the room as well, “yes, of course it is, Tony. How’s the boss?”

“Still alive,” he answered in a sigh and cast his glance back down upon the man on the pool table. 

Slowly stepping up, you carefully let your stare wash over the mobster, from the frazzled and blood-soaked attire to the metal-looking hand poking out one of the sleeves. 

“What happened?” you asked carefully. 

“Miss,” someone grumbled as they set a bag of supplies down beside you on the games table, “just fix him.” 

“If you wanna give your friend a better chance, then you give me as much information as possible about what happened to him,” you uttered as you found a pair of gloves and slipped them on. 

Letting out a sigh, the blonde fellow then said, “it was a shootout.”

Snatching up a pair of scissors, you began to snip in the man’s clothes, staring at the sleeve closest to you, “how many times was he shot?”

“I don’t know, he–… a lot of rounds went off,” he grunted, the events of the night weighting his broad shoulders down, “I wasn’t exactly counting.” 

Two bullets. That’s how many you found when his dress shirt was in tatters on the floor. One was lodged in his right arm four finger widths above his elbow, while the other had strayed a bit further north and buried itself in his bulky bicep. You also found other scrapes and scratches along his torso, assumingly from other bullets that hadn’t been as lucky as those two. 

The smallest of relieved sighs flowed from your lungs as you discovered that he wasn’t in a critical enough condition to be in need of a surgeon, at least not from what you could tell with the limited resources currently at your disposal. 

As you carefully set to work, first digging the bullets out before cleaning the wounds with saline, your lips slowly parted as you treaded a curved needle, “…so, not that I don’t love the change to my evening plans,” you didn’t dare shift your glance as you asked, “but don’t you have a regular guy for cleaning up these sorts of messes?” 

“We did… he died tonight, trying to stop that from happening,” the blonde man gestured to the injuries you began to stitch up. 

Blinking up to find his eye, you uttered sincerely, “I’m so sorry for your loss…” feeling yourself, even under such circumstances, uncontrollably slip into those compassionate parts of your profession. 

A slight scoff bubbled out of the gangster, taken aback by your unexpected gentleness, “yeah, me too. Banner was one hell of a guy…”

Once each of the wounds were sutured closed and you’d bandaged him up, you pushed yourself back from the pool table. 

“Alright,” you exhaled and glanced up at the criminals lurking in the shadows of the chamber, “I’m done.”

“Yeah?” one of them stepped up to get a better look, “he’s alright?”

“No, he’s not alright, he was shot multiple times and should be in a fucking hospital,” your eyes briefly fluttered shut as you heard yourself snap, “now, can I please go home?” 

Catching the eye of the blonde one, second in command, you watched as his jaw briefly clenched, the muscles dancing beneath his skin before he breathed, “no, you’re not done.”

“But I did exactly as you asked–”

“Like you said, he should be in a hospital right now, but we can’t have that happen, so instead, you’re gonna stay here till he’s out of the woods.” 

“What? I can’t–”

“You’re a nurse, right?” he croaked to shut you up, “so fucking do your job and nurse him back to health.”

Three whole days ended up passing by before Mr Barnes slowly began to regain consciousness. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” you snapped back into work mode, springing from your seat and leaning in over the bed which he’d previously been moved into. As the mobster instinctively began to sit up, his eyes barely open yet, you laid a soft palm upon his metal arm and uttered, “sir, please don’t move,” and watched as his clenched jaw almost silenced a groan, “one second, I’ll give you something for the pain,” before you shifted a moment to scavenge through the supplies you’d been given. Once the medicine was found, you exhaled slowly as you injected it, gently pressing down the plunger of the syringe, “there you go…” 

You let yourself suck in a deep breath before your sharp eyes washed over him, briefly assessing him as he woke, though as your gaze flickered up to meet his own, initially with the intent of checking his pupillary response, the manner he stared back at you caught you so of guard that a shiver trickled down your spine.  

“Sir, do you know what your name is?” you asked in a clear tone. 

“Mhm…” he hummed and continued to stare at you as if you were an angel, “Bucky…” 

“Bucky, great, that’s good,” you nodded, “and do you know where you are?”

His gaze didn’t shift away from your visage as he then murmured, “heaven…”

“No, I assure you, you’re not dead,” grasping the stethoscope draped around your neck, you shifted it into place to take a quick listen to his heart, “you almost were, a few times, but you aren’t.” 

As the steady thumping of his pulse filled your ears and seeped into your soul, his deep voice washed over you once again and layered atop the beat, “I’m guessing you had something to do with that?” 

Catching his unwavering eye a moment, you then averted yours and muttered, “I was just doing my job…” before retracting the stethoscope from his chest and casting your glance towards the door, “I should probably go tell the others that you’re awake.” 

TWO WEEKS LATER

“…and Mr Jensen in 401 is complaining of a headache, so you might wanna check that out as well.” 

“Alright, cool,” the doctor scribbled down the last of your words on the little notepad in his palm before his gaze flickered up to catch yours, “thank you so much, Y/n,” he flashed you a warm smile. 

Mirroring his expression, you hugged the charts in your grasp closer to your chest, “any time, Dr Parker.” 

“Peter, please,” his thumb extended to click the top of his blue pen before sliding it into the breast pocket of his white coat, “hey, I was gonna go grab a cup of coffee right now, do you wanna join?” he tried to keep his tone casual. 

Blinking back at him, your breath couldn’t help but get caught in your throat, “I–, uhm… I’d love to, but I get off in a little bit. Wednesdays are always just morning shifts for me.” 

“Oh, alright,” he nodded understandingly, though the gentle rejection still tainted his features slightly. 

“But another time,” you offered, successfully brightening his smile once more. 

“Yeah?” his elbow curled up to lean against the supportive railing that lined the hospital hallways. 

“Sure. I mean, I drink coffee, you drink coffee,” you awkwardly began to dig yourself into a hole, “the chances of us bumping into each other at the coffee cart are pretty high–” 

But your sentence was then cut short as Peter’s pager suddenly pinged in his pocket.

Fishing the small device out, his eyes flickered down to the small screen before he croaked, “oh, sorry. I gotta run.”

“Of course,” you swiftly waved a hand and watched as his feet began to shuffle into a run. 

“Talk later!” Peter called over his shoulder before he rounded a corner and disappeared into the maze of the hospital. 

Twisting around, your feet carried you the remaining distance towards the nurses’ station overlooking the ICU. As you laid the stack of files in your arms down on the counter, a familiar voice found your ears right before her visage popped into your periphery.

“Please tell me that that was what I think it was.” 

Your gaze stayed glued on the charts a moment longer as you ignored your friend’s prying, “hello to you too, Kate.”

When your head finally raised and you let her catch your eye, her wide ones questioned you before she expectantly poked once more, “well?”

“Well what?” you shrugged, though your feeble attempts at shutting the pending subject down failed as she shot you a glare, efficiently causing you to crumble with a sigh, “yes, he asked me out again–, or kinda. It was just coffee.”

“And you finally said yes?” she smiled keenly. 

Holding back your scoff, you simply uttered, “no,” before spinning on your heel. 

“Again?” she shuffled slightly to catch up to the pace you swiftly slipped into, “why not? He’s kind, he’s a doctor, he’s hot,” she listed off, counting on her fingers, “he’s literally perfect for you.”

“I know he is…” you tilted your head, almost with an air of shame, “he’s exactly the type of guy that I should be running after…” 

Though you liked him as a person and cared for him enough to call him your friend, those feelings you caught yourself forcing just hadn’t bubbled up yet. He was the kind of man that you deserved, that you should fall for, and certainly not the monster that still haunted you, that for some reason wouldn’t stop popping into your mind, especially at inappropriate times, like very late at night… 

“So then why aren’t you?” Kate asked as you entered the employee locker room.

And though thoughts of a gruff gangster caused your heart to swell, you still muttered, “I don’t know…” as an excuse before you popped open your locker and uttered, “hey… what do you know about mobsters here in the city?

“Other than the horror stories I’ve picked up in the ER, not too much,” she leaned against the row of cubbies beside your own as you dug out your bag and began to change out of your scrubs and back into the clothes you’d worn early this morning when the sun was still only a promise waiting to rise, “though I did grow up here, so I probably do know a bit more than you,” she acknowledged your move to the city only a few years prior, “why? Are you suddenly in the mood for a change in careers?”

Though the truth was on the tip of your tongue, you still found yourself obeying the commands the gangsters had sent you home with. Telling the cops was no use because they were all in their pockets, and confiding in a loved one also wasn’t a smart choice as that would only put them in danger. 

“Have you ever heard of someone called Bucky Barnes?” you asked, instinctively lowering your voice to a whisper. 

The ever light-hearted expression plastered upon Kate’s face fell at the recognition of that name, “yeah…”

“Really?” your brows rose, “what do you know about him?” 

“I mean, other than that he’s the supposed leader of the Avengers, not too much.”

“The Avengers?”

“Yeah, one of New York’s most notorious gangs,” she let out a breath, “from what little I know, they get up to a shit ton of stuff straight out of a De Niro movie or something, but their real money maker is cocaine… I mean, that’s why the head of the group is known as the winter soldier.” 

“How do you know about all this stuff?” you squinted back at her in slight amazement. 

“Went to med school with a few coke heads, might have dated one of them,” she blurted before shaking her head and getting back to the subject at hand, “anyways, Y/n, the point is, you don’t wanna mess with those types, trust me.” 

“I know,” you uttered quietly as you shrugged on your coat and pushed your locker closed, “I wasn’t planning on it, I was just curious…” 

As you dragged your foaming toothbrush over the last of your teeth, a loud knock suddenly rattled your front door, causing you to jump atop the pink bathmat in your tiny bathroom. 

Neck twisted out towards the entryway of your apartment, you briefly leaned over the sink to spit out the toothpaste slowly leaking out of your mouth, before your feet began to carry you towards the exit. 

One of your palms momentarily ran over the edge of your pyjama-clad arm as the night chill soaked through the cotton and made you yearn for the warmth of your bed. 

Though as you pulled on the handle, the haunting figures on the other side of the door caused your blood to freeze with recognition. Standing tall on the other side of the threshold, there stood two of the Avengers’ henchmen. 

“You need to come with us,” the one called Barton ordered coldly. Over the few days the gang had held you captive, you’d picked up on the names of many of the members, including the two that stood before you now. 

“What?” your chest rose and fell rapidly, “I–, please, I swear, I haven’t told a soul.”

Having them knock at your door was one thing, but even just the thought of criminals such as them knowing where you lived sent you into a spiral. 

“Yeah, we know you haven’t,” Scott put a hand on the doorframe, “that’s not why we’re here.” 

“What happened?” you murmured as you were led into one of the many sitting rooms in the mysterious manor they once again brought you to. In an armchair before you, half-empty glass of bourbon in metal hand and the sleeves rolled up on his blood-tainted shirt, there sat the big bad winter soldier himself, panting as he slowly sipped. 

Though when the sound of your voice filled the room, Bucky’s eyes only snapped up to yours for a moment before he shot a glare at his men.

“What is she doing here?” he grumbled lowly. 

“Boss, you busted your stitches,” Lang gestured tensely to the crimson slowly staining his crisp white shirt, “what else were we–”

Intersecting the conversation, the broad form of Steve stepped into the space between the gangsters and swiftly snuffed the pending argument out, “thank you, Barton, Lang,” he nodded to each of them, “you can go,” and you watched the pair that had brought you back exited the room. Shifting his weight, Bucky’s right hand man turned to you and offered you a polite smile, “Y/n, pleasure to see you again.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, not masking your disdain of the situation you’d been dragged into yet again, “I wish I could say the same…” before you shifted your eyes to the man in the chair, though still directed your question at Steve, “what do you need me to do?” 

As you shifted closer to the intimidating leader, ever drinking, surely to dull the pain, Rogers murmured as you kneeled down to assess, “I think it’s just the one on his shoulder that’s–”

“Yeah, I see it,” you cut him off, then glanced back over your shoulder at him, “do you still have that medical bag?”

“Yeah, one second,” he swiftly disappeared to fetch it, leaving you all alone with the feared mob boss. 

With the crackling fireplace off to the side as your only source of light, you cautiously raised your hands and asked, “do you mind taking this off?” motioning to the shirt he wore. 

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky sighed and sat down his glass before shrugging the item off. Though you’d stared at his bare chest for hours on end before, soaking in his reveal once again for some reason caused your heartbeat to pick up, though you swiftly averted your gaze in an attempt at staying professional. 

Not long passed before Rogers had returned with the supplies, and you’d commenced redoing his stitches. 

“So,” you murmured though your concentration, weaving his skin back together, “do I even wanna know how this happened?”

Blinking down at you, your face close to your work and therefore his skin, Bucky breathed, “probably not...” and as his stare only intensified over the next few stitches, his low timbre once again washed over you as the corners of his lips tugged into the slightest of smirks, “cute PJs, by the way…”

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly get a chance to change,” you felt your cheeks heat up. 

“Oh, I'm not complaining,” his gaze shifted to take in the way the cool night air had caused your nipples to become visible like pebbles beneath the thin stripy fabric, the comment making you shift tensely on your knees. 

Once the last of the knots were tied off and you’d snipped the end of the thread, you wrapped the wounds back up with clean bandages before placing the roll of gauze back into the medical bag. 

“Alright, uhm,” you shifted back, “you’re good now,” a slight winch shot through you as you watched him briefly test out his arm’s mobility, “just be careful, try not to use it too much.”

Catching your eye, he uttered softly, “thank you,” before shifting his gaze to the gangster by the door, “Rogers?” 

“Yes, boss?”

“See to it that she gets home safe.”

ONE MONTH LATER

“I’ve heard the risotto here is really good,” Peter noted as you both skimmed the menus resting on the tablecloth before you, the crystal chandeliers illuminating the restaurant cast a soft glow down upon the choices.  

“Yeah?” you briefly glanced up to catch the doctor’s eye, “well, maybe I should get that then,” you shrugged before shifting slightly in your seat, “hey,” you captured his gaze once more, “could you maybe order for me? I just need to–…” you trailed off, letting the thumb you discreetly pointed over your shoulder in the direction of the bathrooms fill out the rest of the sentence. 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he nodded. 

“Great, thank you,” you smiled as you rose. The long, cobalt-blue, velvet dress you wore briefly swooshed around your legs before the soft click of your heels against the polished floors carried you through the maze of tables. 

It was the third date you’d ventured on with the kind doctor. The third one and yet you still didn’t have any feelings towards him. 

Stubbornly trying as you might, you still couldn’t get the poison out of your system and do the right thing. 

Once you exited the ladies’ room, and big breath of courage in your lungs as you pushed open the door, it all seeped out as you walked through the small hallway that connected the lavatories with the dining space, and you accidentally bumped into two figures that waited in the space. 

Unsure of who was to blame for the collision, you immediately just muttered, “oh, sorry–,” before you glanced up at the pair and your apology crumbled from your lips, your frame immediately freezing up at the recognition. 

“Listen to me. You are going to quietly walk back to your little date, tell him that you’re not feeling well and need to go home,” Stark kept his voice hushed as both he and the other gangster slowly cornered you, the other one grasping your arm to keep you in place, “and then you’re gonna come with us.”

Sucking in a breath, you then tilted your chin slightly, “and if I don’t?” 

“Then we won’t hesitate to make a scene,” Barton shifted the edge of his jacket out of the way to flash you the gun strapped beneath, “so you can either walk with us and safe a life or you can not only have a dying gangster’s blood on your hands, but also everyone in this fucking restaurant.”

With the clench of your jaw, you glared up at them and murmured, “...fine,” before you ripped your arm free and began to walk back into the dining area and the table where Peter still sat. 

Flashing you a smile as you neared, the doctor swiftly said, “so, I ordered this chardonnay that the waiter said was good. You drink wine, right?”

“I–, uhm…” your fingers clutched the back of the chair as you tried to appear as you had before, even though now you felt as if your hammering heart might spring straight out of your ribcage, “Peter, I’m really sorry, but I gotta go,” you briefly scrambled your brain before adding, “the hospital paged me. There was a big accident downtown.”

“Really?” he fished out his own beeper from his pocket and furrowed down at it, “I didn’t get paged, so it probably can’t be that bad.”

“Yeah, but nurses shortage, you know?” 

“Right,” he nodded, disappointment slightly polluting his understanding expression. 

“I'm really sorry,” you uttered as you picked up your small purse from the chair.

“No, it’s fine,” he shook his head gently, “hey, I get it,” he shrugged before waving a hand, “go.”

“Thank you,” you stood there a moment longer, unsure of how you should depart, “uhm… bye,” before you awkwardly shifted closer to his seat and leaned down to press a brief kiss to his cheek as you offered him a half-hearted hug. 

“Who is it this time?” you sighed as you were led into an elegant space, surely intended for parties judging by the long bar that stretched along the back wall. Glaring at the only man seated on one of the barstools, you asked impatiently, “is it you? Did you hurt yourself again?”

Glancing over his shoulder as you halted your stride halfway down the short steps, a smile appeared on Bucky’s face as he leaned a forearm against the bar top and bellowed, “Y/n! Come, have a drink with me,” he waved a hand for you to take the seat beside him. 

Standing your ground, you squinted back at him in confusion, “no, I can’t, I–, where’s the patient?” 

“The patient?” he echoed as if you were speaking a foreign language. 

“Yes,” you huffed, your annoyance simmering into a full-on boil, “the person who’s on death’s door, the reason why I, a medical professional, is here,” you placed your hands on your hips and asked once again, “is it you?”

“No, I’m phenomenal,” he pursed his lips as he snatched up the stout glass waiting for him on the marble counter, “never been better.”

“Okay, so who is it?”

Tearing his gaze away from you, he then uttered, “no one,” before raising the drink up to his lips. As your mouth parted and your glare nearly burned straight through him, the mobster casually added, “you look stunning, by the way,” before twisting in his seat to face you more, “I didn’t know they changed scrubs out with gowns.” 

“No, I–, I was on a date–,” you muttered faintly through your confusion, slightly shaking your head in an attempt to clear it before you raised a hand, “wait, excuse me, no one’s injured?” 

“No,” Barnes shook his head, “no one’s hurt or dying,” then added as if your reaction was a tad bit too dramatic for his taste, “you can relax, it’s fine.”

But instead, the opposite emotions roiled inside of you as you slowly ascended a single one of the remaining steps, “so you mean to tell me that your men threatened me, my date and a whole restaurant of people, then dragged me all the way out here again, for nothing?” you fumed.

“No, it wasn’t for nothing,” he shrugged, “they brought you back here because I told them to,” he kept his ocean eyes upon you as he once again repeated, “now, come drink with me.” 

“No, I don’t want a fucking drink,” you roared. 

But then, just as swiftly as you had raised your voice, Bucky’s steely hand dipped beneath his suit jacket and pulled out a gun.  

“I asked you nicely,” his stern tone rolled off his tongue slowly as he aimed the weapon upon you, “now sit your ass down and share a drink with me.” 

Carefully, you finally followed his orders and sat down at the bar beside him. 

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he uttered as he sat the gun down beside his drink. Raising up a hand to the silent shadow behind the bar, a glass was soon slid across the counter, one Bukcy pushed closer towards you, “here,” he said as you stared down at the orange peel floating at the top. As you lifted up the cocktail, the gangster beside you raised his own to click yours, “cheers.”

You briefly toyed with the thought of just taking a sip, though opted instead to down it all, both out of the desperate hope that the alcohol would aid the strange evening, but also in an attempt to fast forward a tad closer to your longed-for departure, ripping the bandage off instead of nursing it all night long. 

Though as you sat the glass back down on the bar, the bottom clanged against the marble much more forcefully than you’d intended as the fingers you clutched it with began to tingle. Blinking heavily a few times, your hand accidentally knocked over the empty drink as a numbing sensation began to bloom within your chest and spread throughout your body. 

Trying to get up from your seat, you mumbled foggily, “what the hell?” though quickly stumbled as your legs felt like jelly beneath your velvet gown.

“Whoa, careful now, angel,” Bucky’s calm gaze trailed you chillingly as you tried to steady yourself. 

“The fuck did you do?” you panted as your wide eyes watched him raise from his seat. 

“It's okay,” he uttered softly, “it’s all gonna be okay,” before your world turned to black and you passed out into his arms. 

When you finally stirred, you were no longer at the bar, nor any other room you’d been in before. You were in a bedroom, situated on a spacious mattress and alongside countless fluffy maroon pillows. 

As you sat up, a low rustling found your ears and drew your vision down towards the coldness clinging around your ankle. Strung between the bottom corner of the bedframe and your own foot, there shined a chain, one that, try as you instinctively did, you couldn’t snap out of. 

But then, as the door to the room creaked open and caused your body to flinch, a plea swiftly flowed out of you as you watched Rogers step inside, balancing a small tray with a glass and a tall decanter of clear water. 

“Steve!” you crawled to the bottom of the bed, “I–… help me, please,” you begged, hearing tears thicken up your voice as they rolled down your cheeks, “you’re a good man, deep down I know you don’t wanna stand by and let this happen. Can you unlock me? Please? Help me get out of here.”

But just as you waited for Steve’s lips to part, you instead heard, “shh, don’t waste your breath, honey,” as in strolled Bucky, causing you to swiftly scramble as far back on the bed as the chain would allow. 

Sitting down in a chair just out of your reach, the fireplace opposing the bed, directly behind where he sat, clacked and lit up his spine as he settled into the seat and directed his cold gaze upon you.

“Glad to see you awake,” he uttered calmly.

“Fuck you!” you swiftly spat as you hugged your knees tightly to your chest. 

“And with all of your charms still intact,” he tilted his head, a light smirk blooming on his lips as your vulgar language hadn’t fazed him one bit. 

“Let me go,” you demanded. 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, my angel,” his burly arms folded across his chest, “this is for your own protection,” he briefly gestured to the chain, “we wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid or rash now, would we?” one of his eyebrows twitched, “I can’t let anything happen to you,” he uttered as you continued to stare daggers at him, “you need to be kept as safe as possible so you can keep on helping me the way that you have.”

“What? You want me to be your gang’s personal nurse?” you scoffed, “is this your sick and twisted way of offering me a job, because if so, no thanks!”

“Yeah, no, this isn’t a job offering, I’m not interested in those talents of yours,” he leaned further back in the seat before he began to explain, “you see, for the past few years, I’ve had a serious string of bad luck. Deals have fallen through, rats have been found, the feds have been snipping at our heels and countless of my men have lost their lives,” he listed off, “but, then I met you,” his eyes flickered up to capture your own, “and it all turned around,” he uttered, “I tell you, when you’re here, it’s fate herself is on my side and nothing whatsoever could go wrong. Like having you has made me a fucking god or something, that’s the level of power you’ve bestowed in me,” a faint smile tugged at his lips as those words rolled off his tongue, “so no, you can not leave. You have to stay right here where I can make sure you’re safe and sound. Although, just because you get to be kept safe, that doesn’t mean you’re free of any consequences if you step out of line… it also doesn’t mean that I’ll deny anyone of your beauty if it pleases them… so, I guess it’s more along the lines of you just staying alive under my watch.” 

In the blind rage his words threw you into, your fingers wrapped around the bedside lamp before you chucked it across the room. Though just before it could strike the gangster’s head, he casually ducked out of the way, the lamp instead smashing on the floor behind him as a chuckle began to rumble within his chest. 

“That’s cute,” he laughed lowly, “you’ve got some bite. It’ll get you in trouble, but it’s adorable.” 

“I'm not interested in being your good luck charm, you superstitious fuck!” you yelled as he got up from his seat. 

Huffing out a condescending grin, “give it some time, angel,” he fastened the button on his dark suit jacket before smoothing a palm down over the front, “the human psyche is much more fragile than you’d think and can get used to some surprising conditions,” he ignored the scream that desperately tore from your lungs and instead turned to Steve standing by the door and asked him calming, “Rogers, would you mind cleaning that up?” gesturing to the broken lamp on the floor, and as he received a small nod in return, he murmured, “thank you,” before exiting the room and leaving you to your fate. 

“Seriously?” Steve let out a laugh when he finally coaxed the truth out as to why you hadn’t been touching any of the food they’d brought you, “and here I thought you were just a picky eater.” 

“Well, you’ve already drugged me once so what’s stopping you from doing it again,” you explained, glaring down at the plate before you as he attempted to stifle his laughter. 

“I swear, cross my heart, your pasta is not poisoned.”

Continuing to squint down at the food, you kissed your teeth, “prove it.”

“Really?” his brows floated up, “alright,” he sighed as he sat down across from you. Dragging your plate closer, he twirled some of the spaghetti onto the fork before slipping it into his mouth, “see?” he chewed, “I’m fine, and so will you be when you get some food in that belly of yours.”

Pushing it back towards you, hesitantly, you picked up the fork and slowly began to eat. It had only been little things you’d consumed the past couple of days being here, things you could be certain weren’t tainted, like the odd apple and such. 

Though as you chewed and finally began to settle your stomach’s nauseating rumbling, tears began to stream down your cheeks. 

No matter how hard you tried to beg, none of the mobsters would help you, as their loyalty was just too hard for you to crack. 

“Hey…” your bloodshot eyes then flickered up to Rogers as he noticed your weeping, “it’ll get easier, I promise,” he attempted in a soft tone. 

“How?” you blinked back at him hopelessly, “I am being locked up in a room by a maniac as if I’m just some trinket for him to own.” 

Throwing a brief glance over his shoulder, he then leaned in a bit closer to cautiously advise you, “…there might be some things you could do to change your situation…”

“What?” a spark suddenly flickered within you, “I’d do anything.”

“…you might consider trying to get closer to Barnes…” his words remained hesitant, “…if he begins to care for you, then he might treat you differently…”

“Like, he’d let me go?” 

“I don’t know,” he exhaled, “but maybe it could get that chain off your ankle,” he gestured to your foot, “baby steps.” 

ONE MONTH LATER

“Here,” Steve croaked as he suddenly burst through the doors to your room, a big flat box in his arms which he tossed on the bed beside you. Peeking inside, a folded-up bundle of black fabric met your eye, “put it on,” he ordered hastily, “make yourself presentable.”

“Why?” you blinked up at him, your brows knitting gently together. 

“Because the boss requested it,” he answered impatiently. 

“What, he wants to play dress up with me now? Treat me like a doll?”

Over the past month, you had gone from being scared out of your mind, barely sleeping at night, horrified of what they might do to you, till the paralysing fear slowly began to melt away as not much happened at all, in fact so little that you grew bored in your imprisonment, thinking that the big bad gangsters were just all bark and no bite. Perhaps that was a dangerous confidence to develop, growing cocky in your restlessness, but you couldn’t help it. 

Letting out a low sigh, “just put it on,” Rogers’ head tilted before he said, “I’ll be outside, yell when you’re done.”

Popping the lid off all the way, you then slipped into the black gown waiting within. It was long and simple in its beauty as it hugged all of your curves like a second skin. 

Right before you called out to the mobster in the hallway, you leaned in closer to the mirror on the left side of the room. The dark storm clouds visible out the gothic windows that filled up the wall behind you blossomed in the reflection alongside you as you momentarily fussed with your hair to make it match the elegant dress better. 

Once Steve had entered the room once again, the very last thing you expected was what he did next. 

Walking straight up to you, without a word, he bent down and unlocked the chain binding you to the bedpost. At first, a wave of hope washed over you till it was drowned out by the unsettling notion as to where he would take you and just what plans were on the horizon. 

Grabbing you by the arm, he dragged you out of the room and down the dark hallway you’d only seen glimpses of before. You tried to ask him what was going on, though he didn’t offer you any clue in return, only remained silent as he hauled you through the maze-like manor till a wide set of steps found you, leading you down into a garage where a group of the other gangsters already stood beside the black car rolled up by the base of the stairs. 

Standing in the middle with an arm resting against the roof of the vehicle, Bucky’s gaze swiftly landed upon you as you ascended the stone steps. 

“Well,” the mob boss’ eyes roamed your form, “don’t you look pretty.”

Biting your tongue, you greeted him politely, “Mr Barnes.”

“Shall we go?” he cracked open one of the car doors. 

“Where?” you tried, though your question only caused him to breathe out a smile as he ignored it and instead commanded softly. 

“Get in the car, angel,” his metal arm rested atop the door. 

Riding in a different vehicle than you, it was Clint who slipped in behind the wheel of your car and drove you the silent route towards the mysterious destination. 

Though once the car came to a stop, the door to your left cracked open from the outside and there to greet you was an outstretched metal hand to help you exit. 

You didn’t recognise the building that loomed before you, though it was grand and opulent with large steps leading you and all the other arrivals up to what sounded like a party already buzzing on.

“So, you needed a date,” you exhaled as Barnes took your arm and began to lead you up the stairs, a cluster of his men shadowing behind you both. 

“No,” he cocked his head, “I didn’t need it...”

Casting your glance around at the other guests that passed, you asked, “what kinda party is this anyway? Let me guess, human trafficking auction?” you were completely serious, though still managed to make the gangster laugh gently. 

“It’s a wedding,” his chuckle finished billowing out of his lungs, “or a funeral,” he tilted his head, “I'm not quite sure.”

“How could you not be sure?” you shot him a glance as you reached the top of the steps and he dragged you inside the marbled halls, “there’s a pretty significant difference.”

“They all just kinda melt together at this point,” he sighed, “I have at least one of these a week I gotta show my face at, just out of respect.” 

Taking a look around, you uttered, “well, do you at least know who this funeral wedding is for?”

“No fucking clue,” he exhaled before following the signs and leading you into the venue’s ballroom.

Turns out it was a wedding for some couple you hadn’t yet spotted, though you’d already read their names a thousand times with all the stuff they were plastered upon. 

You stayed quiet and lingered by Bucky’s side as he shook some people’s hands and made some small talk before the two of you found yourselves seated at one of the many round tables in the hall. 

Blinking up at the floral centrepiece, your fingers fiddled with the white tablecloth as the hours rolled by. Soon, not only the complementary glass of champagne you’d been handed back when you arrived was sloshing in your belly, but also quite a bit more alcohol as you decided that was a good tool to make the evening more bearable. 

It however also came with the hindrance of boosting your cockiness as you eventually found yourself poking the bear. 

“You know for a big bad gangster,” you stared over at him, leaned back in the seat next to yours, “you’re actually not that scary up close,” you pursed your lips, causing a chuckle to rumble within his chest because of just how untrue that statement was, “smiling at everyone, being polite. Are you sure you really are the big bad winter solider? The king of New York with no heart and only an imagination for torture…”

“Well…” he huffed out a short laugh as he met your gaze, “don’t you have me just all figured out.”

“Some of your guys may have filled me in a bit,” you tilted your head. 

“Have they now?” he continued to look amused. 

“Yeah, well, a bit at least,” you seized your glass and took another sip.

As you placed the flute back down on the table and rested your cheek in a propped-up palm, your stare only intensified into a squint as Bucky’s eyes flickered back around the room.

But as his gaze fluttered back to notice your gawking, he muttered, “what?”

“Why aren’t you mean tonight?” you uttered through the haze fuzzing up your mind. 

Tongue flicking out to wet his lips, his eyes briefly dipped before he uttered, “do you want me to be mean?” a playful smirk twitched at the corner of his lip in a threat to appear. 

“Is it all just a lie?” you asked, the subtext of his previous words flowing directly over your dizzy head. 

“What?”

Squinting back at him, you then breathed, “there’s always a part of me that’s still scared, imagining what you might do to me… but now,” you slowly drew out, “I don’t think you’re actually ever gonna do anything,” you blindly decided, “that’s not really who you are, they’re all just empty threats…” 

“Hm…” he hummed, a slight smile blooming upon his lips as he stared back at you, “okay…” before he leaned in closer to utter, “and just what makes you think that I haven’t already?” your face immediately dropped as his words caused your frame to freeze up, “tell me, Y/n,” his breath fanned across your cheeks, “did you sleep well last night? Or the night before for that matter, or–, well, just during the time you’ve spent here with me?”

As your shock not only showed in your expression but also in your complete lack of speech, he simply grinned back at your stunned features before grabbing you by the hand and breaking the moment. 

“Come on,” he dragged you with him as he then stood up himself, “let’s dance.”

With an argument on the tip of your tongue, the appendage, just as the rest of you, still remained too dumbfounded for it to come to fruition. You didn’t manage to gather your wits once again till he had you on the middle of the floor, wide hand on your waist as you swayed to the music. 

As his hold slowly tightened and he brought you closer to his broad frame, your breath suddenly hitched as you blinked up into his eyes, the air between you growing thick. The hand that grasped your own near swallowed your palm in a dizzying contrast. Goosebumps began to erupt across your skin as you felt your heartbeat thump not only in your chest, but also much further south, a mortifying clue to the dark truth you hoped he didn’t somehow notice. 

Gliding his palm up the length of your spine, it came to rest between your shoulder blades as he then drew you in closer and your gaze fell to the band strumming over his shoulder. 

“Does the thought of me playing with you at night turn you on?” he whispered in your ear and continued to gently sway you to the music, “because if you want me to wake you, all you have to do is ask. Though my attempts so far at rubbing your luck off on me have been rather eventful, I’m still sure it would be better if you gave me a bit of a hand…” 

Tilting your head back to blink up at him, you thought you were gonna spit him in the face for making such an accusation, till your stare acted of its own accord and fluttered down to fixate on his lips. 

It almost felt as if they were calling for you, begging you closer like a stubborn magnet. But before you could close the short distance that kept you two apart, Barton appeared in your periphery and tapped his boss on the shoulder. 

As he leaned in to whisper in his ear, you couldn’t pick up on the words over the music, though watched as Bucky’s face swiftly grew hard. 

“What’s going on?” you asked as the secretive message came to an end and the mobster’s wide hands faded from your frame. 

Ignoring your question, Bucky instead cast his glance over your head at one of the men behind you and ordered sternly, “Stark? Get her home, now.”

“What’s happening?” you tried again, though without success as Tony dragged you away and the remaining gathered to converse in hushed tones.

Perhaps it was because of the chaos of whatever was happening, perhaps just a simple mistake, but when you returned back to the manor, the shackle wasn’t reunited with your ankle. 

Not willing to let that gift slip through your fingers, you soon grasped that opportunity tight and made an attempt at your escape. 

Sneaking down the many hallways, you successfully hid from a handful of gruff-looking men before you realised you couldn’t remember the path to the garage or any other way out of the labyrinth of a building that kept you swallowed in the dark. 

However, your mission turned into a swiftly sinking ship as soon as you rounded the wrong corner and crossed the threshold of the last room you should have entered. 

In the centre of the space stood two chairs, both with individuals strapped to them, though only one of them was still alive. Before the seated pair and with his back turned to your frozen-up form, there stood Bucky. Returned from the party and with both his jacket and tie torn off, his sleeves were rolled up though still tainted in small crimson flecks of the deed he’d just done. 

“Come on, Vladimir…” Barnes uttered as he kneeled down in front of the battered man still breathing, neither he nor the other members in the room haven noticed you in the doorway, “just give me what I want and we can wrap this up.”

Wheezing painfully through his broken nose, the man met Bucky’s steely gaze before fulfilling his request, “…I’m sorry…”

“Hm?” he leaned in pettily, “what was that?”

“I’m sorry,” the tied-up man repeated with a laboured huff.

“Okay, getting there,” he nodded, “what are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for killing Bruce…” the name rolled off Vladimir’s tongue like a crackle to a bonfire. 

“And?” Bucky fished. 

“For hurting you…” 

“See? That wasn’t so bad now,” Barnes straightened back up, “an apology, a life for the one you took from me, and now there’s just one last thing left to do, and then we’re even,” he then took one step back and conjured his gun. Aiming it at the Russian, barely a second passed before a shot deafened everyone’s ears and a bullet blasted through the tied-up man’s arm, mirroring the injuries Bucky himself had sustained. The loud blast and the bloodcurdling scream that tore from Vladimir, however, caught you so off guard that a shriek slipped from you as you flinched, revealing your presence as everybody’s eyes suddenly shifted to train on you. Glancing over his shoulder, Bucky grunted, “what are you doing out? What is she doing out?” he shot his glare in the direction of Steve off to the side, “Rogers? Get her back into bed.”

“Yes, boss,” his right-hand man swiftly nodded before catching up to you in two long steps and seizing your arm. 

And as you were dragged back to your doom, your eyes caught the tail end as Barnes let out a sigh and turned back around to face his victim, “now, where were we? Right! I believe the other one was right around here,” another gunshot echoed in the manor as he shot Vladimir’s arm once more, “and now, we can’t forget about the ones that only skimmed me, so get up and don’t fucking flinch, it’s on you if I hit your lung.”

The chain reunited with your ankle jingled as you twisted on the bed to cast your gaze out the window. Heavy rain hammered against the tall panes as the restless city twinkled through the darkness of the night. In the corner of the room, Steve watched up like a hawk as you continuously failed to find rest. 

But then, just as you thought you felt your heartbeat return to a normal rhythm, the double doors burst open and in paced Bucky. 

“Is she awake?” he huffed, though didn’t wait for an answer before he heatedly went on, “okay, great.”

As his rushed steps halted by the foot of your bed, the look in his eye caused your body to shudder.  

“Rogers?” he kept his cold stare glued on you as he uttered, “go wait outside.”

Though you silently pleaded with your eyes for the mobster to stay, it was no use as Steve swiftly shut the doors behind him. 

As the man before you then shifted, your wide eyes finally noticed the bundle of rope in his grasp as he began to unravel it. Scrambling back, you didn’t manage to crawl far away before Bucky caught the chain and yanked it hard enough to force your frame down towards him. Though your struggling finally fizzled out when the gangster pulled out his gun, the very gun he’d just ended a life with, and aimed it at your head to get you to comply. 

“You know,” he uttered gruffly like a pent-up bull, “I’ve been nice, I’ve been real well behaved, kept my manners intact, been a goddamn gentleman,” the heavy weapon in his hand tilted slightly to emphasise his words, “but evidently, that’s not what you need to learn your fucking place,” he fumed before letting out a low exhale, “that’s alright…”

“Bucky, please,” tears blurred your vision as you held up your palms, “I-I understand, I’m sorry, you don’t have to do this.” 

“Oh, but I do…” he sighed almost softly as he then kneeled down closer and let the tip of the cool barrel stroke your cheek, “…if you don’t break a horse, then she’ll never be tamed…” his eyes trailed after the line he drew before it flickered up to find your own, “now give me your hands,” he ordered and hesitantly, you shakily obeyed. 

Since you couldn’t stay in your place, he simply had to tie you down better. 

Unfurling the rope in his grasp, the mobster then fastened the cord around not only both of your wrists, but also your free ankle. After each of the tight knots were tied off, he yanked each appendage to the nearest corner of the bedframe, spreading your limbs till you looked like a starfish on the mattress. 

Taking a step back to admire his handiwork, his fingers then dipped down into his pocket before a slight furrow found his brow as his touch didn’t locate the item he fished for. Placing the heavy gun in his palm down on the fireplace mantel, he then closed the distance towards the exit and cracked open the door just a smidge. 

“Rogers?” he extended a hand through the sliver, “give me your knife,” to which a switchblade was swiftly placed in his palm, replacing his own which was still lodged deeply inside the corpse of the Russian in the other room. 

Slamming the door behind him, he then crossed the room and silently began to cut your clothes off. The black gown you still wore came off with only a few slices, though your underwear, that he took his time with, slowly grazing the blade over your goosebump-ridden flesh before nicking the cotton clinging tightly to your frame. 

Once you were bare before him, his feet shuffled back slightly as he let his stare soak up every millimetre of you. 

A hand floated up to tug on his tie and loosen it slightly from around the collar still dappled with the blood of his enemy. Folding closed the knife with a faint flourish, he then sank down into the armchair directly behind him. The tattered panties he’d sliced from you were still clutched tightly in his hand as his eyes stayed glued upon your frame. Bringing the fabric up to his nose, his blue eyes then fluttered closed for a second as he breathed deeply, letting the scent of you flood his senses. 

But as he stuffed the cotton down into his pocket and let his palm drift to somewhere else, your eyes grew even wider as you gasped, “what are you–”

“Just shut up, please,” he groaned, sounding like he was at his very last straw as he brashly began to rub himself through his pants, “just for one fucking second, don’t be a brat.”

Your jaw couldn’t help but hit the floor as he shamelessly pulled out his cock, letting the intimidating hardness spring free of its confines before he spit in his palm and enclosed his fist around the fat girth. You wanted to look away, you truly did, but you just couldn’t, a flaw he obviously noticed. 

“You’re unbelievable…” he chuckled as his fist silkily stroked up and down his cock, the mixture of his own spit and the precum beading at the tip caused a sloppy melody to fill the room at each and every twist, “I mean, me being into you, that’s one thing, that makes sense, you’re the closest thing to magic that I’ve ever experienced, so of course that’s enough to get me going, but you… you’re the very textbook definition of a good girl and here you are pining after–, how was it again you put it? A superstitious fuck?” 

Stunned at his accusation, you tried to tear your stare away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Really? Well, I didn’t take you for a fool, but hey,” he tilted his head, “some folks are just that disconnected to their own feelings.”

Blinking back at him, you scoffed faintly, “you’re crazy, I’m not–…” but you couldn’t even say it out loud as you, deep down, knew that it was a lie. 

“Oh yeah?” he cocked a brow, finding your flustered state amusing, “then why did you almost kiss me tonight?”

“I–…I was drunk.” 

Letting out a dark chuckle, “alright, sure,” he then rose from his seat and crawled up on the bed with you before he buried his face between your parted thighs, “if you despise me so much, then why are you so fucking wet?” his hot breath fanned across your core. 

“I’m not–,” you tried, though your attempt then fell short as he proved you wrong, reaching out his touch to tickle at your lightly and let the wet sounds of your arousal slosh into your soul. 

“Hm?” the broad pad of his thumb gently brushed over your glistening petals, making them part for him, “if this isn’t because deep down you want me, then why? I’d love to hear you try and explain your way out of this one…”

“I-I–…” your eyes fluttered as you tried to fight the feeling, “I don’t…” 

Laughing lightly through the scoff that then bubbled out of him, he averted his gaze and said, “okay, fine. You wanna play that game?” his eyes flickered back up to find yours, “if you need a bit of help in order to admit the truth, then that’s what you’ll get,” he uttered before suddenly stuffing two of his fingers inside of you. 

Craning his neck, he tilted down to catch a taste. You tried to hold back your moans as his digits caressed you, but the softness of his velvety tongue came as such a shock that a little squeak managed to slip out past your lips. 

“I mean, if it’s any consolation,” his stubbly chin glimmered with your essence as he retracted slightly to smirk, “I personally think it’s kinda cute that you have a crush on me like a little schoolgirl…” 

He then sent his palm down upon your pussy in a wet smack, before repeating the action a couple of times to echo the jolt it shot through your body. 

“Fuck…” he groaned in a low rumble, “you are so much more pretty awake…” he revealed casually, “sure, you make some cute noises in your sleep, but not like this,” you instinctually tried to stifle the uncontrollable whimpers that flowed from your lungs, “you should really be thanking me for all of the time and effort I’ve put into stretching this little hole of yours out,” his fingers continued to pump in and out of you, “if I hadn’t, well then you might just split in two when I finally get my cock in there.” 

And as he leaned down to lap you up once more, you curled your toes as you felt him push you closer to the edge. 

“Mr Barnes…” you attempted with an air of respect through your pants, “please don’t–…”

“Why? Because it makes you want to kiss me again?” he teasingly taunted you before continuing his persistent licks, bullying your clit into submission. 

And as he kept going, even as you gasped, “stop–, a-ah!” he still kept his lips locked around your puffy pearl long after a gush of squirt wept around his fingers, keeping his efforts up till your hips were bucking back in sensitivity. 

But when his kiss finally ceased, he let some of your juices, that had flooded into his mouth, trickle out past his lips and back down onto your pussy, “fuck…” his low groan nearly caused the whole room to rumble, “nasty little cunt…” before he slapped your throbbing core once more, watching as the last little trickle weakly leaked out and soaked the sheets below. 

Lifting himself up to hover above your constricted form, you then squirmed as you felt him nudge the bulbous tip of him against you. 

“Does the idea of liking, or even loving, someone like me scare you that much?” he uttered as he gathered up your slick and smeared it with his cock, “does it make you feel all wrong and icky inside that I of all people make you feel the way that you do?” 

All of the air in your lungs was then suddenly knocked clean out as he, with one long stroke, slipped all the way inside, before pulling right back out to tap the weight of him against your poor clit with the hold he had at his base. 

“You won’t spontaneously combust if you admit it out loud, you know…”

He repeated the motion, plugging you up completely before he denied your cunt the chance of getting used to the stretch. 

“I just wanna hear you say it…”

And on the next time he filled you up to the brim, this time his hips didn’t retract.

Reeling as you fought to comprehend the manner his girth split you open, you gasped weakly, “I can’t…”

“Hmm…” his eyes above you narrowed slightly before he pointed out, “that’s not a no,” and he began to move, “finally getting somewhere…”

The gangster was in no way gentle as he started to fuck your pussy, the selfish force of it caused your body to jostle every time his heavy balls tapped against your slick skin, thereby conducting a lewd beat each time he slammed into you. 

Lowing himself to get even closer to you, his nose ghosted against your own from the proximity. The gesture made you assume that he was about to press his lips to yours, though they never touched, even as your own instincts overwhelmed you and made you dizzily tilt up to try and close the gap, “nah-ah-ah,” he swiftly clicked his tongue and moved out of your reach, “admit the truth and then I’ll kiss you all you want.”

With his length still embedded deep within you, he sat back up. His fingers dented your hips as he grabbed onto them and then began to sink them harshly down against his own, lifting your frame entirely off of the mattress as he used you like a toy. 

“Oh god…” you whimpered as your eyes fluttered down to notice the faint bulge that appeared in your lower abdomen, the thrusting imprint of his size visibly showing just how deep he buried himself inside of you. 

Once he’d plopped your hips back down onto the bed, his hands then instead floated up to play with your tits, the rhythm he offered you causing them to jiggle in his palms. Though once he’d fiercely pinched your nipples and parted ways in a brief tap, his fingers then drifted further down south till his right hand found your puffy clit. 

Casting his glance down as he rubbed your pearl, a smirk appeared on his lip as he spotted the way your cream coated his girth. Sweeping down to smear his touch against it, what he did next caught you so off guard that you jostled wildly in your binds in an attempt to hit him for his audacity.

“Ahh!” you yelped as he stuffed two of his fingers in your pussy alongside his already overwhelming girth, “Buck, no, it’s too much!” 

But your squeak only caused him to chuckle as he stared down at the way your little hole struggled to take what he gave it, clinging around him so tightly that loud groans began to billow from him as he soon painted your insides white and pumped you full of his cum. 

With heavy breaths, he withdrew his dick, though let his digits stay inside your warmth. 

“Maybe in time you could become more than just my good luck charm…” he murmured as he flopped down to curl closer to your core, “would you like that?” he nipped at one of your thighs as his load slowly began to leak around his thick fingers, “does the idea of me falling down to my knees before you and declaring my undying love entice you, angel?” 

“You’ll just have to do better,” he continued as his digits began to twist within you, “let me mould you and make you perfect for me,” another one of his fingers was stuffed inside of you, causing your eyes to flutter, “just let go,” he breathed, “shut off your brain and let it become a leaky mess just like your pussy already is for me,” he worked another digit into your creamy cunt before grazing the last one against your stretched out opening, “you don’t need to think, you just need to do exactly as I tell you to and everything will be okay,” his tone was soft as his thumb curled close to the others and sank into your pussy with a pop, “just break for me, it’s okay,” your body was shaking beneath him as his entire fist slowly twisted within you, “you’ll be so much more perfect ruined…”

Tears were streaming down your face as you unravelled once more, trembling violently as your pussy clamped down around his wide hand so tightly that it was forced all the way out, a drizzle of your nectar once again spraying out at the intensity. 

“Alright!” you let out a sob, “alright… I–… I don’t understand it… but, I–…” you caught his eye and confessed, “ever since the moment I met you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you… even when I fall asleep, it’s like you’re haunting me in my dreams…” a faint shake found your head as you blinked up at him through your blurry vision, “I don’t wanna feel this way. But–… I do.”

It seemed as though time stood still as Bucky stared down at you, an unreadable expression tinting his features before he finally shifted, slowly leaning down over you and inching closer before he finally pressed his lips to your own.

A faint whimper was muffled against his kiss as you felt the world crumble around you. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it now…” he breathed as he ended the soft peck, “say it again,” his hand slid over your jaw, “practice makes perfect.”

Blinking up into his eyes, you uttered from the bottom of your heart, “I am yours,” a single tear rolled down your cheek as you still trembled beneath him. 

“Damn right you are…” his lips tilted into a smile. 

Fishing out the borrowed switchblade that still rested within the gangster’s pocket, he then sliced through the ropes and constricted you. 

Tangling your arms around his neck as you sat up, you captured his lips once again and felt his touch slide down under your ass before he scooped you into his lap. Your sore pussy wept against his cock, once again throbbing and hard as a rock against your core. As your tongue danced against his own, you couldn’t help but scramble even closer, pressing your body impossibly close to his own as you grinded down against him. 

“You are mine,” he groaned as he manhandled your frame in his hold and sank you back down onto his fat dick, “you are my most prized possession,” your bodies met in sticky claps as the aftermath of the rough round moments before still oozed all over this one where passion crackled behind both of your own desperate efforts, “I will never let you go,” he blinked up into your eyes as you rode him, both of you clinging to each other as the end crept ever nearer, “always need you–,” his sentence was briefly broken up by a moan as you rolled your hips, your pussy gripping around him and squeezing him tightly, “need you by my side…” 

Once your synced-up orgasms had both shuddered your senses and you were sharing each other’s breath, your eyes remained locked as his throbbing cock stayed buried deep within you.

“So, what now?” your chest rose and fell as you whispered into the night, the pitter-patter of rain splashing against your windows once again catching your attention as it swept over and mingled with your laboured pants of breath.  

Not shifting his gaze, his eyes briefly scanned your own in search of any ounce of deception, before his fingers dipped down into his pocket and conjured a tiny key, “now,” and he stretched down to undo the chain at your ankle. The click of the lock felt like a gasp of real air was finally filling your depraved lungs, “I take you to my room,” and he manoeuvred you around to slink one arm in behind your knees while the other stayed fast at your spine. As he rose from the bed, he plucked you up with him as well, carrying you in his hold as he exited the bedroom. 

© 2024 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 💐

[onegayastronaut]

In Love and Legacy

I've been watching too many mob movies lol, so here's a fic of Wanda and Natasha being your moms and dating Kate Bishop

Words: 1556

The morning was heavy with tension as you paced the lavish living room of the Maximoff-Romanoff estate. The grandiose space, filled with antique furniture and tasteful art pieces, was a testament to your mothers’ power and influence—a legacy built on their iron rule over the city’s underworld. Wanda and Natasha were not just feared; they were legends. Today, however, that intimidating reputation loomed larger than ever. You were about to introduce your girlfriend, Kate Bishop, to them for the first time.

Kate, with her sunny personality and penchant for sarcasm, had no idea what she was walking into. Sure, she knew your moms were important and influential, but the whole "mob boss" detail? That was still something you were figuring out how to explain.

"Are you sure about this?" Kate asked as she adjusted her navy blazer for the third time. Her archer’s instincts betrayed her; she looked like she was about to face off against a horde of enemies.

You paused and took her hands, squeezing them gently. "Kate, they’ll love you. Well, eventually. They’re just… protective."

Kate’s eyes narrowed. "Protective like regular parents, or protective like they have someone on speed dial who can make me disappear?"

You winced. "Uh, a little of both?"

Before Kate could press further, the double doors to the living room swung open. Natasha entered first, her movements sharp and deliberate. She was dressed in a tailored black suit, her red hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. Behind her was Wanda, ethereal in a deep burgundy dress, her piercing gaze taking in Kate from head to toe.

"Darling," Wanda said, her voice soft but firm as her eyes shifted to you. "You didn’t tell us your guest was this punctual."

Natasha smirked. "That’s rare these days."

Kate swallowed hard but managed a polite smile. "It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Maximoff and Mrs. Romanoff."

Wanda’s lips twitched upward. "How formal. Call me Wanda, dear."

"And Natasha," your other mom added, her expression unreadable.

"Natasha, Wanda, got it." Kate’s voice wavered slightly, but she straightened her spine, her confidence kicking in. "It’s really nice to meet you both. I’ve heard a lot about you."

"Have you?" Natasha asked, arching an eyebrow as she leaned casually against the back of an armchair. "All good things, I hope."

Kate nodded quickly. "Oh, yeah. Mostly."

Wanda’s laughter was soft but chilling. "Mostly?" she repeated, tilting her head as she studied Kate.

"She’s nervous," you interjected, stepping closer to Kate and sliding an arm around her waist. "Can we maybe save the interrogation for later?"

"Interrogation?" Natasha echoed, her tone mock-offended. "We’re just getting to know her. Isn’t that right, Wanda?"

Wanda smiled serenely. "Of course. No need to be nervous, Kate. We’re just… thorough."

Kate’s laugh was shaky but genuine. "Right. Thorough. Got it."

"Come," Wanda said, gesturing toward the dining room. "Let’s sit and talk."

You guided Kate into the dining room, where a long table was already set with an assortment of appetizers and drinks. The room was as imposing as the rest of the house, with high ceilings and a massive chandelier that sparkled ominously.

Natasha took her seat at the head of the table, while Wanda sat to her left. You and Kate sat opposite them, and you could feel Kate’s tension as she fidgeted with the edge of the tablecloth.

"So, Kate," Natasha began, her tone deceptively casual. "What do you do?"

"I… I’m an archer," Kate said, her voice steady despite the intensity of Natasha’s gaze. "And a private investigator. I’ve been working with Clint Barton for a while now."

Wanda’s eyebrows rose slightly. "Clint Barton? The Avenger?"

Kate nodded. "Yes. He’s been kind of a mentor to me."

Natasha’s lips twitched in a faint smile. "I know Clint well. He’s… a good judge of character."

"That’s a point in your favor," Wanda added, her tone lighter but no less probing. "Tell me, how do you plan to protect our child?"

Kate blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Protect?"

Natasha leaned forward slightly, her green eyes sharp. "This isn’t a rhetorical question, Kate. Our world is dangerous. Being with our child means you’re a target. Are you prepared for that?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but Kate spoke first. "I’m not afraid of danger," she said firmly, meeting Natasha’s gaze head-on. "And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Always."

Wanda’s eyes softened, and Natasha’s expression shifted into something resembling approval. It was subtle, but you’d known your moms long enough to recognize the signs.

"Good answer," Natasha said, leaning back in her chair.

Kate exhaled quietly, and you reached under the table to squeeze her hand.

As the conversation continued, the tension in the room began to ease. Wanda and Natasha’s questions became less intense, and Kate’s natural charm started to shine through. By the time dessert was served, Wanda was smiling warmly, and even Natasha’s guarded demeanor had softened.

"You know," Wanda said, sipping her wine, "it’s not often we see our daughter smile like that. You must make her very happy."

Kate’s cheeks flushed. "I hope so. She makes me really happy too."

"She does," you said, leaning into Kate’s side. "And I’m glad you can see that."

Natasha gave a small nod. "We’ve been… worried about who she might bring home one day. It’s a relief to see she’s chosen someone with a strong heart."

Kate’s eyes lit up at the compliment, and she smiled. "Thank you. That means a lot."

When the meal ended, Wanda stood and placed a hand on Kate’s shoulder. "You’re a good person, Kate. I can see why our daughter cares for you so much."

Natasha nodded, her lips curving into a rare smile. "You’ve earned our approval—for now. But if you hurt her…"

"I won’t," Kate said quickly, her voice full of conviction. "I promise."

Wanda’s smile widened. "Good. Welcome to the family, Kate."

As you and Kate left the estate later that evening, you couldn’t help but laugh at the look of relief on her face.

"That was… intense," Kate admitted, slipping her hand into yours. "But I think they like me."

You grinned. "They do. And they’re not easy to impress, so you should feel pretty proud of yourself."

Kate smiled back, her eyes sparkling. "Worth it."

You leaned in to kiss her softly, grateful that the most intimidating hurdle in your relationship had been cleared. With your moms’ approval secured, you knew you and Kate could face anything—together.

Later that evening, back at Kate’s apartment, the reality of the day finally seemed to hit her. She flopped onto the couch with an exaggerated sigh, throwing her arms over her head.

"Okay," she said, "I knew meeting your moms would be a big deal, but I didn’t expect to feel like I was auditioning for a spy thriller."

You laughed, curling up next to her. "They’re intense, I know. But they really do like you."

Kate raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure Natasha was two seconds away from interrogating me under a spotlight."

"That’s just her way of saying she cares," you teased. "She’s not used to letting new people into her world."

Kate sighed, her expression softening. "I get it. Honestly, I kind of respect it. They’re just looking out for you. And I can’t really blame them for that."

You leaned your head on her shoulder. "You’re amazing, you know that?"

Kate smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I try."

Meanwhile, back at the estate, Wanda and Natasha sat together in the living room, a bottle of wine between them. Natasha poured herself another glass, her expression thoughtful.

"She’s good for her," Wanda said, breaking the silence.

Natasha nodded. "She’s strong. And smart. I like that she didn’t back down."

Wanda smiled. "Reminds me of someone else I know."

Natasha rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, a rare look of contentment on her face. "I think they’re going to be okay."

Wanda reached over, taking Natasha’s hand in hers. "They are. And we’ll be here for them, no matter what."

The two women sat in comfortable silence, their bond as unshakable as ever, their love for you guiding every decision they made. And in that moment, they knew they had done something right.

Over the next few weeks, Kate’s relationship with your moms continued to grow. She joined you for family dinners, where Natasha taught her the finer points of strategy over a game of chess, and Wanda shared stories about Sokovia. Kate even earned points by helping Wanda set up a security system at one of their properties—a task that quickly turned into a friendly competition between the two.

"You’re lucky," Kate said one evening as the two of you walked hand in hand through the city. "Your moms are incredible."

"I know," you said, smiling. "But so are you. And I think they’re finally starting to realize that too."

Kate grinned, pulling you closer. "Well, if I’m going to survive in this family, I’d better step up my game."

You laughed, feeling a sense of peace you hadn’t known was possible. With Kate by your side and your moms’ approval, you felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead—together, as a family.

[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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[superficialdomina]

Down Under - Part 1

Series masterlist

Part 1

“The epicentre of the outbreak,” Steve was saying to his bleary-eyed team, “appears to be here.” His long pointer made a thwack as it struck the wall map somewhere in the south of Australia. His accompanying PowerPoint ticked over to a slide showing a photo of a single road running through a smattering of houses, deserted save for a large mob of kangaroos. Nice shot, you thought, as you covered a yawn with the back of your hand.

 “The village of Hall’s Gap,” Steve continued, “population 496. The Victorian Premier’s Office has been in touch with us tonight – that is, this morning –"

He pulled his wrist away from his face and blinked rapidly in an effort to check his watch. 4.30 am.

“Ahem. What I mean to say is, the local government has asked us to investigate what seems to be an outbreak of an unusual contagious illness. Fortunately, the remoteness of the locale means that the infection is so far contained to this small township. However, speed and discretion remain of the utmost importance.”

Your sleepy mind began to catch on. A contagion outbreak? In Victoria? An Australian mission... You nervously tried to blink away some of the fatigue. You were the obvious choice – a local, an ex-pat. Am I about to be sent home?

Bruce stood, drawing eyes to him in the semi-light afforded by the projector. “Ah – yeah,” he said. “Sorry to get you all up at this hour. But the faster we get in, find the source, and treat the patients, the better chance we have of eradicating it.”

“Hang on,” Barton interrupted, rubbing an eye, “hang on. Just back up a minute. What exactly do you mean, “unusual illness”?”

“Ah – yeah,” Banner said again, his face pink. “I’ll - I’ll just show you.” The PowerPoint ticked over again, and Steve averted his eyes.

This time it was footage. The scene was grainy and captured from above, as though on a cheap security camera; it looked like the front room of a bank. Clusters of bodies, dozens of them, writhed on – or against – every surface. There was no sound, but there was also no mistaking what they were doing.

The conference room was suddenly wide awake.

“Wait...” Natasha spoke to Bruce without moving her eyes from the scene. “Are they?...”

“Involved in coitus, yes,” Steve answered instead, his gaze still resolutely at the floor. “The major symptom of infection is what you see here: an insatiable… desire. For copulation.” He swallowed. “For sexual intercourse.”

Voices broke out across the room. “Brother,” you heard Loki chuckle, “does it not remind you of that party we attended on Vanaheim?”

Rogers spoke over the noise, having overcome his embarrassment. “The repercussions of infection are serious. We mean truly insatiable; patients are forgetting to eat, drink, or sleep. We believe several lives have been lost.”

Muted respect fell over the room, and Bruce spoke again. “I need to get in there and collect a sample in order to prepare treatment options – ideally a vaccine.”

You finally found voice to speak. “Can’t Australia just send you a sample? Why do we need to go in?”

“Great idea,” Tony broke in. “Except that no one who’s entered Hall’s Gap in the past week has come out.”

Steve took over again. “We suspect this is a Hydra bioweapon pilot, possibly released from a hidden location in the nearby national park.” Another slide, this time of picturesque wilderness: mountain streams and gushing waterfalls framed by towering eucalypts and sheer rockfaces. “To that end, our objectives are two-fold. Collect a sample for analysis, and find and neutralise the Hydra base.”

There was a brief silence before Clint spoke again. “Alright, Cap. Who’s going in?”

“It will just be four of you at first; a small group will move faster.” Steve looked directly at you. “As our resident Australian, Agent, I want you on the ground.” You had been expecting the order, but a pit still instantly formed in your stomach. “A local SHIELD operative will meet you and guide you in. Banner will obviously join you… As will our Asgardian brothers here.”

Thor rolled his shoulders back and gave a pompous nod, but Loki narrowed his eyes. “Why?” he asked.

“You never get sick,” Stark cut in again. “Remember that flu that ripped through here in February? The two of you didn’t even sneeze. We don’t know what this is, but you’re the safest bet when it comes to any degree of innate immunity.”

“The rest of us will wait here for your signal,” Rogers continued. “Any sign of Hydra – any suggestion that you might need support – we’ll be on our way.”

“When do we leave?” you asked.

Steve checked his watch again. “An hour.” He squinted. “Make that – forty-six minutes.”

You always hated take-off. The familiar plummet of your stomach as the Quinjet rose into the air; the crushing embrace as it accelerated to full speed. But once you were safely at cruising altitude and could move about again, flying wasn’t so bad. You sat next to Banner as he skillfully piloted the aircraft across the Pacific Ocean, feeling your apprehension grow with every passing mile of open sea.

Focus on the mission, you thought.

“Bruce, if no one has made it back out of Hall’s Gap, how do we know what’s going on there? How did we get that footage?”

“It’s a cloud-recording. When State officials realised no one in town was answering a phone, let alone leaving the area, they accessed the bank’s security footage.” He grinned, but it was mirthless. “Bet they weren’t expecting to see that.”

“So, what – it’s a virus?”

“More likely a fungal pathogen,” Bruce replied. “There’s a cordyceps fungus that does something similar to ghost moths in the Himalayas. I’ve got some generic antifungal meds that we’ll all take as a precaution, but I can’t develop a proper vaccine until I’ve got a sample.”

“How do you get a sample?”

“From infected brain tissue,” Bruce said grimly.

You were interrupted by a deep yelp from behind, and you turned to see Thor shaking out his right hand as though stung. The brothers were passing time with a game that looked like a combination of rock-paper-scissors and bloody knuckles. Loki leaned back in his seat, his cat-got-the-cream expression widening. One long, leather-clad leg stretched out into the aisle; the other bent at the knee so that his foot could rest on the seat in front. You could see the raised outline of his quadriceps. He lifted his arms to settle his hands behind his head, the card of his slender fingers through his own hair making you squirm. Why are the pretty ones always such dickheads?

You mentally shook yourself. Loki’s smarm and sex appeal were irrelevant. People were dying.

Rage flared within you. How dare they. Hydra had targeted Australia not because it posed a threat, or because the location gave them a tactical advantage. It was because a test release of a bioweapon in a place like Hall’s Gap was easy to hide.

Remote. Wild. Dangerous.

You pushed Loki’s long limbs out of your mind. Without your full concentration, the mission could be deadly.

It was after midnight local time when the Quinjet began descending.

“Ten minutes, guys,” Banner said, as the altimeter rapidly ticked down.

Loki stood, making a big show of stretching, his leather armour creaking. He caught you watching him and gave a wolfish grin, then a small shrug of his left shoulder.

You almost jumped in surprise. Green light licked up his body, and the black leather was replaced by sensible, climate-appropriate clothing: a lightweight collared shirt open over a tight, V-necked tank top, and moleskin hiking pants. A small triangle of pale flesh was visible at his shoulder where his layers left a gap. You had to make a conscious effort to close your mouth. Sensible, but hot as hell. I bet those pants make his ass look amazing.

He winked at you from under the wide brim of a dark-brown Akubra, resplendent with what looked like kookaburra feathers, as Banner landed on a grassy flat at the fringe of the Australian desert.

“We’ll sleep here the rest of the night,” he said, as the group descended the Quinjet ramp into the warm, moonless night. “There’s a local guide meeting us in the morning, then it’s a day’s hike into Hall’s Gap. Can’t risk flying any closer and being detected, in case Hydra really is nearby. We’ll stay off the roads for the same reason.”

“When you say, ‘here’…” Loki looked around the rough clearing distastefully.

“Loki, you must learn to tolerate the lesser comforts!” Thor’s jovial voice was louder than ever in the abandoned night. “Remember the time you stole away from the Queen’s retinue at Mimisbrunnen because the baths were too cold…”

You followed the sound of running water to a nearby stream, surrounded by the scent of eucalyptus and tea tree. As water trickled into your canteen, leaves rustled; the movement of some large marsupial, disturbed by your presence. It was unexpectedly comforting.

It’s been too long, you thought, as memory flooded your senses. But then, once upon a time, I didn’t think I’d ever be back again.

There was a slapping sound from the group, and a swear word in a foreign language. “What in Hel?!” Thor spluttered. “These biting insects are the size of small birds!” The hiss of an aerosol can quickly followed, as Banner generously doused him in mosquito repellent. You grinned to yourself.

The Quinjet’s lights shut off, leaving the four of you in darkness. You rolled out your sleeping gear some distance from the others, stripped out of most of your clothing, and lay flat on your back in your sleeping bag. Sleep might be a big ask, you thought, as you gazed upwards. The arm of the Milky Way stretched overhead, like a hug from an old friend.

You’d always secretly thought this hemisphere had the superior night sky. You were mentally cataloguing as many southern constellations as you could remember when Loki appeared out of the night beside you. Is he… topless? It was hard to tell in the dark. Maybe he’s just wearing really tight sleepwear. The thought made you press your thighs together.

“May I?” he asked, polite but vaguely entitled. “Thor, of course, is already snoring loudly enough to disturb Valhalla.” You could indeed hear the deep rumble.

“Ah - sure,” you said, surprised. In general, Loki didn’t speak to you. Or anyone, besides Thor, if you didn’t count barbed quips and snarky commentary on the day-to-day operations of the team. You weren’t even sure he knew your name.

He spread another of SHEILD’s high-tech swags out beside you.

“This is your home, yes?” he asked, as he slid into his bedding.

You let out a deep breath. “Yeah. Well, um, not here here. On the coast.”

“You are lucky to be able to return,” he murmured.

You risked a quick glance at him, struck by the sadness in his voice. “I guess so.” He, too, was gazing up at the night sky. “Do you... miss home?”

“Ceaselessly.”

You felt the silence stretch, disconcerted by his honesty. “Um - can I tell you about our stars?”

“I am very familiar with the Midgardian sky.”

 “But the sky here is different. Everything’s upside down, for a start.” You pointed to the constellation of Orion, clearly head-down. “See?”

You heard the slight smile in his voice as he said, “I see. What else?”

Speaking quietly, you pointed out all the familiar sky-marks you had found when you’d first laid down. "It's a pity the SHEILD tactical goggles don’t work very well for the sky – too specialised for detection and warfare, I guess,” you said. A thought occurred to you. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a pair of binoculars in that magic pocket of yours?”

Loki either smiled or grimaced – you could only see the glint of his teeth. “I can do better than that,” he muttered, almost to himself.

With a faint fizzling sound and a flash of silver, the entire night sky blossomed into colour and light.

It was as though you were lying under an enormous telescope dome. Your eyes could discern individual stars of the Omega Centauri cluster, or the spectacular colour and shape of the Carina nebula, or any of a hundred other astronomical wonders suddenly visible to you from horizon to horizon.

You glanced at Loki again. His sky was casting enough light to see him clearly now; he lay with his arm under his head and a serene smile on his face.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

“My pleasure,” he murmured, not taking his eyes off the scene above.

You lay there, the two of you, gazing upwards in silent wonder. You thought about what it meant to be home, why you had left so many years ago… How it might feel to have no home to return to. Until finally, just as Loki’s breathtaking illusion began to fade, you fell asleep.

Part 2

Tags in comments xx

[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

[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 ?   ❜

[adrixivy]

I like to think that Peter is always aware of his surroundings. Even when he seems to not be paying attention or looking around. So no one can surprises him. He in fact, hates surprises(unless its those pleasant and good news one. He cant detect those)

As we all know, Peter’s spidey sense warns him of any incoming danger to himself or anyone. So anyone trying to come up behind him is immediately caught off guard when they’re suddenly slammed onto the floor by a kick that sweeps them off their feet or grabbed by the collar and lifted then slammed onto the ground. A thug shoots a bullet, he easily dodges it like he it was his second nature. Someone pointing a gun at Steve as he’s full with fighting off mobs, he’s webbing the gun and taking them down.

What if his spidey sense not only warn him about danger but his surroundings. He gets directions or some tingly feeling and he just goes from there.

He’s casually walking in the tower and suddenly he gets a warning.

He walks in school, worrying if he did his Spanish essay he submitted earlier well. He chews on his lips and his eyes are on the ground and suddenly, he feels his hairs at the back if his neck stand up and gets a warning from behind. He turns to see Ned behind him and the shorter groans. “I was gonna surprise you! Damn you and your spider tingle!” He just laughs

He’s casually walking in the tower and suddenly he gets a warning.

Left!!

He looks over and catches an arrow with a blunt end with his right hand. Moving the arrow out of his view, he looks over to see an amused Natasha and a cheerful look on Clint’s face. The grin the man had immediately left his face as he scurries to a vent as he hears Tony’s screams. (“Clint, what the hell are you doing to my baby?!”)

Danger!! Right!!

He looks around his surroundings and sees a concealed gun. There’s definitely accomplices so he quietly calls 911 anonymously. He’s in a bank right now to accompany May and he does not want a bank robbery right now. So he quietly walks past the person and pickpockets his gun with a piece of paper he had in his pocket. He takes the gun with the piece of paper and hides it somewhere reasonable for the police and hides himself from the camera.

This gets me thinking. The Avengers definitely never landed a prank on him. Even if it’s elaborately planned. Like some set-up type of prank. He’s probably the master of pranks and is untouchable.

Down!! Up!!

He looks down to see a trip wire just as he was about to enter his room. He looks up with an unamused look to see Clint with a bucket of glitter in his hands in the vent. He smirks lazily. “Caught ya, Mr Barton” Clint groans and rolls his eyes.

Back!!

Clint flips the bucket upside down in a quick motion which Peter jumps back the moment he sensed it but half of his body is covered because no matter what, glitter gets everywhere.

Peter tweaks and is chasing after Clint in the vents, shouting the wildest violations to Clint without actual foul words that Clint almost surrenders due to how offended it was he had to stop. Almost. (Peter finally calms down as Tony calls for him and he helps Peter cleans up as he shouts at Clint)

It doesn’t count as a prank to Clint because Peter was not surprised. Just got caught in the glitter

[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.”