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ramp-it-up · 24 days ago

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Peach, Part I

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' best friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky, not for love, but because it's the right thing to do. You are a struggling dance teacher in Atlanta. And what is the quickest way for a dancer to make money in the A? When Steve meets you at one of his businesses and lies to you about a myriad of things, It becomes a sticky situation, especially since the attraction you feel for one another is so sweet.

Word count: 3.5 K

Pairing: Bartender/ Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: Okay. I can explain. Yes, I got carried away with this one too, but have you met me? It's what I do. I feel like we're gonna get a little more angsty with these two, but the payoff might be good. Idk, I just hope that you like it!

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and comes a couple of months before the Bucky Barnes fic You've Got me Thinking. I'm so done for with Steve and Peach. The next part is coming by the end of the week! ☺️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, angst, financial difficulties, cute tiny dancers, familial feelings, feelings about besties being in love (third wheel?), Steve the businessman, shady people, Steve lying, Steve using an alias, a lil bit of voyuerism (involving dancing) exotic dance life; pole dancing, wild thoughts, flirting, hand holding. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

———

Late October

Steve Rogers was frustrated.

His best friend Bucky had recently fallen in love, and instantly Steve’s life became an urgent race to divest their Art business of illegal ties so that Bucky could begin his life with her.

Together with Sam and Natasha, Bucky and Steve ran an art import business in New York which was extremely lucrative.

Except that it wasn’t really.

“Just wait until I see you tonight, Frumoasă….”

Steve glanced over at his bestie, who was turned away and whispering into the phone with a giant grin on his face. Steve shook his head and looked out of the window of the car that Nico was driving uptown to a meeting. He rolled his eyes.

More phone sex with Bucky and his girl. Great.

“Behave. Or I will make you…”

Steve cleared his throat as he listened to the suggestive chatter and shifted in his seat. Bucky and his girl were burning hot.

All of the time.

It seemed impossible.

“I love you too, Frumoasă.”

Steve needed what Bucky had in his life. At first he thought he was jealous. His best friend had an extremely desirable woman who made him drop the player lifestyle the instant he saw her. It took Steve a minute, but he realized he wasn’t jealous of either Bucky or his girl; Steve was jealous of the feeling.

When Bucky ended the call, Steve tried to continue the conversation they were having.

“Everything good?”

Bucky smirked, a look on his face that Steve hadn’t seen before his best friend met the love of his life just weeks earlier. It was an amazing transformation.

“Everything is great.”

Then Bucky frowned.

“Except this timeline. We need to get clean, Steve. Faster. We’re going to have to travel a little more before the end of the year.”

The blond raked his hand over his face.

“Bucky, I get it. Believe me I do. But we’ve already tripled the rate of divestiture. Are we to quadruple it? Is it really worth the money we’ll lose?”

“I don’t think you get it at all, Steve. But you will one day. “

Bucky gave Steve a look that made him roll his eyes again.

“I’ll take the losses, Steve. You and Sam and Nat will get the agreed upon cut.”

Bucky gazed out of the window.

“Billionaires shouldn’t exist anyway.”

Steve sighed.

“We all agreed to speed up, and we all agreed to an equal split of the profits. And losses.”

The two men shared a knowing look. Steve assented.

“Okay, Buck. Let’s get Sam and Nat on the phone; I just want it all to be square. You know they want this just as much as you and I do.”

Bucky smiled at his friend, the oldest he had in the world.

—--

Early November

You smiled at little Amina, who was trying her best on her pliés. Although she was only four years old she had a determination like no other. Her little tongue was poked out and there was a scowl on her adorable little face.

You came over and smooth her brow and took her tiny chin in your hand.

“Relax, Mina. If you’re not having any fun, it’s not worth it. Don’t force it, sweetie.”

Amina smiled back at you and began to giggle, relaxing into the poses.

“See there! It’s better already!”

You widened your smile and spoke to the entire class of 12 little 4-6 year olds. They were adorable in their uniform black leotards and pink tights.

“Remember dancers, hard work and lots of fun, that’s our motto. And one, two, three….”

Amina’s mom, Michelle, came up to you after class.

“Here’s what I have Ms. YLN.”

She deposited half of what monthly tuition was into your hand and held it for a beat. Her eyes were watery but she had a brave smile on as she glanced over at Amina giggling with her classmates. Then, she lowered her voice.

“I’m afraid this will have to be her last class. I just can’t come up with the funds… She loves it so much… We’ll miss seeing you every week.”

Your heart shredded. You made a knee jerk decision.

“It doesn’t have to be her last class. I will send you the paperwork for the scholarship. I’ll see you both next week.”

You smiled and gave both her and Amina a hug as she skipped over to you.

“Thank you, Ms. YLN. So much!”

You smiled and nodded as they left the dance studio that you rented for your weekly classes. The tuition you collected barely allowed you to pay the rent, much less compensate you for your time and preparation.

But you were determined to help these little ones with their dreams. And to see your own to fruition.

—--

“You can’t keep letting these people put dance classes on layaway, Cousin.”

Heat bloomed in your chest. Your favorite cousin, who had everything she ever wanted, whenever she wanted, growing up was joking about layaway. Even now, she had an insanely hot, wealthy guy eating her up. Literally.

“Okay, you know what…”

“Calm down. I will finance little Amina Rickard’s monthly tuition before you cuss me out. You know I love you. And you knew sending me that picture of her was gonna work. Making my ovaries explode.”

You smiled, almost choked up.This was your cousin’s second scholarship student and your family’s 8th overall. You were really blessed, even though things hadn’t come easy for you.

“I think the guy who is trying to breed you all over the place is making your ovaries explode, but okay.”

“Y/N, YLN! I am a demure, respectable–”

“You’re a whore for that man and we both know it.”

“Girl, you ain’t lyingggg! Shit, he’s calling me now…”

“Go get that nut video.”

Your cousin laughed at you.

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, and thanks, Sistercuz.”

“Bye Sweetie. Have a good night.”

Easy for her to say.

—---

The jet was delayed in New York because of snow and Steve was late getting started. After he landed and was sat in Atlanta traffic, he was reminded that he wanted to be in and out of the city, preferably in two days, and on to Kansas City as soon as possible.

Atlanta could be a fun time, with many many beautiful women, but he was on demon time. He needed to get rid of the criminal enterprises in the company. Quickly.

The holdings in Atlanta consisted of a handful of exotic dancing establishments. And the strip clubs in Atlanta were known to be dens of considerable iniquity. He was sure it would be easy to make a decision to offload the five clubs in the area.

On the second day, Steve had quickly turned a profit on the first four clubs, borderline dives with mid-level girls. The drugs and prostitution levels were off the charts and there were plenty of shady characters who wanted a chance at those businesses.

He’d saved ‘the best for last,’ a supposedly upscale club called Regine in midtown.

It was supposed to be a classy place, so Steve decided to just drop in to check it out before making a decision. He arrived a little over an hour before opening, stepping into the kitchen from the back alley where he parked his rental car.

“Hey, yo! You the new bartender? I told you to be here at 2, not 2:45.”

The salutation came from a huge guy with a large belly and lots of teeth. He’d be scary to anyone else. This must be Sully. Steve recognized him from the file. He decided to play along, glad that he’d dressed down in a flannel and jeans.

“Yeah, well. Traffic.”

Steve thought it best to say as little as possible. That way he would get the most information.

“Shit, you don’t have to tell me. I have to drive here from Alpharetta every day. The 400 is hell every morning.”

“We need someone with some experience. Someone willing to be paid in cash tips, nothing on the books. You look like you’d prefer that.”

Steve stared Sully down, not debunking the myths the latter was making up in his mind. Sully kept talking.

“Also may need to do some security. We get into some… situations up in here.”

Sully took in Steve’s stature and unwavering stare.

“A man of few words I see, Looks like you’ll do. Can you start tonight?”

Steve couldn’t believe this joker, hiring someone off the street.

“Sure.”

This place was not looking like a keeper, Steve thought as he followed Sully for a tour. In daylight, it was passable; in the dark with the right lighting, he was sure it looked swank. Sully told him how to water down the liquor and where the firearms were kept. When his 30 minute orientation was over, Sully left Steve to set up the bar on his own.

“Cory just called in, but Mike will be in later. You should make a lot of tips, our girls are top notch.

Steve just nodded, his hands on his hips as he calculated how much Sully must be skimming off the liquor alone as the latter walked away. Sully came back to the bar and asked a pertinent question.

“Oh yeah. What's ya name?”

“Grant Stevens.”

A little white lie would never hurt anyone, especially if this situation got sticky.

“Aight. Nice to meet you Grant. Tips are not the only perks of this job, if you know what I mean.”

Steve shuddered as Sully lumbered away. He wanted no parts of perks.

—-

A couple of hours later, the girls started arriving, most of them greeting Steve with a polite hello, some skipping it with a grimace, some in their phones, and one, you, listening to music and vibing out. You were different than the weary women who’d passed by ahead of you.

Steve was struck at the serene look on your face as you entered the establishment, braids in a bun on top of your head, eyes closed and your mouth pursed as you hummed and bopped your head to the music, bag slung across your back.

Your skin was dewey, free of make up and those lips, well those lips were what made him do a double take. Your neck was graceful and the cropped hoodie you were wearing did not do a thing to hide your full curves, smooth skin, round tits, long legs, and all that ass. Steve’s palms began to itch.

Steve was convinced that the strip of stomach showing between your hoodie and your sweats was more alluring than any stripper outfit could be, because at the sight of it he broke out in a sweat. Your body was calling him to touch, but he didn’t even know who you were.

He was about to find out however.

Steve stepped to the edge of the bar, ready to give a greeting, but you just bopped on by, oblivious and making your way to the dressing room. It bruised his ego, but the sting was soothed by the sight of you walking away. He stood there for a full minute in shock, but then he shook his head and went behind the bar to drink some water.

“Get it together old man,” Steve grumbled to himself as he tried to cool down. He set about talking to the employees in the kitchen to get more intel on this establishment. The sooner he had enough info, the sooner he could put this one to bed and get away from distractions.

Like you.

—--

“Did you see the new bartender? Just put him on stage, I’ll climb him like the pole.”

"Dat azzz tho."

“Right? And did you see those eyes, those lips? Pretty fly for a…”

You frowned at the chatter around you. You really had to pay more attention to your surroundings. You didn’t notice any new bartender. But knowing these ladies’ taste in romantic partners, you’d bet he was overrated.

You sighed and put your earbuds back in; there was no time for nonsense. You had to warm up properly to protect your instrument: your body.

You looked down at your watch and saw that the doors would open in 45 minutes. You had 20 minutes to go and warm up and still have time to get changed. You sat down to trade your Jordans for your stilettos and make your way out to the pole.

—-

When Steve walked back to the bar from the kitchen, there you were on stage under the lights in a crop top and short shorts.

Again, you were oblivious to him.

Steve, on the other hand, was undone.

Your skin glowed everywhere,and he noticed that you didn’t seem to have augmented anatomy, not that there was anything wrong with that. He just knew that if he had a handful of that ass, it would be real. He stepped behind the bar to watch you, a convenient barrier between you and Steve’s stiffening cock.

As he watched, you moved slowly, the motion elegant and mesmerizing in the six-inch heels you were wearing which elongated your beautiful legs.

Lost in your own world under the lights, you looked ethereal, a goddess.

You approached the pole and held on with one hand, walking around and around it seductively, hopping a few times in the heels, making your ass shake with the impact. It was hypnotizing, watching your strong arms and legs, especially those legs, grip the pole as you worked your body around it.

Then, you let your hands slide down the pole, causing you to bend over and showcase your luscious ass and thighs. Steve imagined that they tasted delicious.

Next, you straightened up and walked around until the pole was nestled in between your asscheeks, widened your legs and undulated on it. Never in Steve’s life had he wanted to be an inanimate object until now.

When you turned around and body rolled on the pole was when Steve had to grip the bar. And when you slowly twirled down to the floor and went spread eagle, beautiful legs in the air, was when he felt like vaulting over the marble bar to get to you.

You rolled over onto your knees and started undulating, then started crawling toward the end of the stage closest to him.

Steve knew the exact moment you noticed him.

You froze, looking like a startled feline. Squinting, you moved your hand over your eyes so you could see beyond the lights, then pulled out your earbuds and got to your feet effortlessly.

—--

You thought you were alone with your music and your fantasy of dance that got you in the headspace to strip for strangers. You didn’t notice anyone out in the club until you were almost done with your warm up routine, when, as you looked up from the floor you saw a large figure behind the bar.

You froze, a moment of something like fear, but more like a thrill, passing through you.

As your eyes adjusted to the area beyond the lights, you saw a tall, muscular body and longish hair. This must be the new bartender. You got up and approached him, trying to analyze your feelings about the situation before you addressed the man.

As you got closer, your temperature seemed to rise. Must’ve been the workout.

His warm denim blue eyes were gorgeous and that dark blond hair and reddish beard were thick and lustrous. Although the beard was a bit wild and wooly, there was no hiding the pink, full lips under that straight, masculine nose.

His body was lithe, but muscular, and you sensed his power. You bet he could pick you up and hold you upside down as that beard scratched the inside of your thighs to lick your…

Wait. Where did that thought come from?

You were objectifying your new co-worker.

That would never, never do. You vowed to be professional.

—-

Steve straightened up as you came near. The look on your face was hard to read. Whatever it was you were feeling, Steve felt like an intruder.

Even though he had the deed to this building in his bag.

“Hi.”

It was all he could think of to say as you stood before him because his mind was empty. With you up close, the only thing he could do was stare. Your scent was like a drug and your eyes were…everything. He gazed into them, a myriad of colors that were holding him captive.

Then that mouth started moving.

“Hello. You the new barback?”

“What?”

Steve leaned closer, pretending he couldn’t hear you, just to get nearer. It wasn’t entirely game; he was quite distracted by you.

The side of your mouth curled up in a sardonic smile and a sudden, funny feeling spread throughout his stomach. He gave you a side grin in response to your side eye.

“Are… you… new… here?”

“Yes, I am working in the bar. I’m Steve…ns. Grant Stevens.”

You extended your hand to him.

“Nice to meet you Grant. I’m Peach.”

“Peach?”

The word gave Steve visions. He stared at your lips, thought of your ass, imagined your juices dripping down his chin.

“Yes,” You smirked. “Peach.”

Steve was speechless.

“It’s nice to meet you, Grant. Since you’re new here and probably haven’t gotten paid yet, I won’t charge you for the private dance.”

Steve’s mind was moving slowly. Like he was drugged.

“That’s a stage name, right?”

Peach. It had to be a stage name. Yet it suited you so perfectly. Suddenly he wanted a taste test.

Steve licked his lips and your eyes followed his movement as you proceeded to not answer him. He unconsciously started stroking the back of your hand with his thumb and gave you his full smile.

You grew even warmer, from the friction of course, and blinked at him as if you were facing sunlight as you pulled your hand from his.

“Forgive me. I’m sorry for eavesdropping? Spying? Watching you dance without you knowing? Don’t know what to call it. But beg your pardon.”

—--

“Don’t beg.”

‘Dont beg here,’ is what you wanted to say.

You don’t know why the vision of this man on his knees for you flashed in your mind. Maybe it was his velvet baritone, or maybe it was the feel of his rough hand on yours that got you all bothered, as if his smile hadn’t already made you wet.

He was tall, a good head taller than you, even in your heels, and a looming presence. In a good way. You wanted to be enveloped by him. But you didn’t even know him.

You had to get it together, but the scent of his cologne was making your mouth water to taste him. You were weak for this man.

You hated this feeling, didn’t have time for it, yet you weren’t ready to end the conversation just yet.

“I mean, I felt some kinda way when I first saw you here, but hell, I don’t own this place. And neither do you.”

For some reason, Grant’s face did a thing. A weird frowny sad thing, but you barrelled ahead.

“You’re a worker, just like me, and you were just getting your work station ready, just like me. Solidarity, man.”

“Yeah. Solidarity.”

Grant cleared his throat.

“Great moves up there.”

—---

You grinned, blinding him this time. Steve’s discomfort that his ‘little white lie’ was spreading to you dissipated when you smiled at him.

He just knew that your smile could heal any ailment, if he were allowed regular doses of it for the rest of his life.

“Thanks, friend. They make me a lot of money three nights a week.”

You pushed off the bar and started walking back to the locker room as Steve chuckled at your immediate friend zoning.

“And if you like that, stick around for the show.”

You threw a look over your shoulder that made him want to follow you anywhere.

As he watched you leave again, Steve Rogers knew that he needed a little more time to figure this place out.

—----

Steve was concluding that Regine wasn’t the worst, but nothing extraordinary. The women in makeup and costume looked good and the tips were flowing; he could see how this was a money maker.

He had his suspicions about Sully, but he still had little evidence about the quality of the place. He needed to see all of the dancers.

Steve wanted to see you dance. For research purposes.

He was busy at the bar all night, so much so that Sully had to come by and made four money drops. This place made much more profit than was being reported, that much was clear as Steve’s eyes followed Sully back to his office with the cash.

He was about to follow him when you brushed by him, ensconced all in white.

“Excuse me. Gotta get to the stage, Comrade.”

Your wink distracted him from the fact that you were wearing a ten gallon cowboy hat and boots.

Wait.

Were those spurs?

Mesmerized, Steve leaned on the bar to watch your show.

The stage went dark while the guitars started. There were whistles and stomps from the floor, cries of Yesss! Peach! Go Peach! Ride me Cowgirl, and Pour some liquor on me honey tooooo! reverberated in the room.

These were grown men and women.

And by the time the first line of the song played, “This ain’t Texas…”, the crowd was in a frenzy and in the palm of your hand.

Steve suddenly understood the customer’s enthusiasm.

The way you moved on the stage, your props, the way your body captivated everyone in the place was astounding.

You were brilliant.

You were what made Regine extra ordinary.

—---

You were bone tired by the time 3 am rolled around and the club closed after two full sets. You’d made $700 dollars in tips, not bad for a Tuesday, considering that you didn’t do any private dances. You were yawning as you passed the bar and Steve stopped you to say goodnight.

“Hey Peach. You were fantastic tonight.”

He shook his head.

“It was the first time I’ve seen that prop used on a dance club stage…”

Steve’s eyes glazed over as he replayed the image of you spinning on the pole with the stick of the hobby horse between your legs.

You spared the handsome blond an appreciative glance and a tired laugh.

“Thanks, Grant. I try to be original. Hope you did well tonight.”

“I did pretty good.”

Steve smiled as he would if $500 dollars excited him.

“Hey, one of the customers at the bar told me to give you this. Said he was shy?”

You looked at him warily as you took the envelope. Inside was $1000.

“Holy Shit!”

You looked up and covered your mouth, your girlish piety endearing to Steve, who chuckled at you.

“There’s a stack in here.”

“Whoa! Cool.”

Steve tried to look as if he didn’t know there were exactly 10 hundred dollar bills that he’d put in there.

“Guy must really like you. Could it be a regular? A special friend? An ex perhaps?”

Steve was not being very subtle, but he didn’t have much time. You were smirking at him in that way again.

“My regulars are regular shmegular degular, and cannot afford to tip me one thousand dollars. Must be a high roller rolling through the A.”

You smiled, but decided you needed to be tough. You straightened and gave the most menacing glare you could manage.

Steve thought you were adorable.

“I don’t know who would have done this. I don’t have any special friends or exes in this city. I’m all work. NO play. In any way. Especially at work.”

You hoped your hard look worked. Grant was certainly watching your mouth as you spoke, so he must have caught what you meant, right? When his eyes flicked up to yours, your knees got weak so you decided you should go.

“‘Night, Grant.”

You turned and walked out of Regine, a certain warmth in your chest. Must the $1700 in your bag. Or the chicken wings. Nothing to do with the beautiful man you knew was watching until you got into your car.

Steve made sure that you drove off safely, and then followed you home as he thought about how efficiently you’d curved him.

Once you went into your apartment, Steve called Bucky and told him that he needed a little more time on this enterprise.

This one was a peach.

-----

Okay. I hope that you liked it! Let me know by reblogging please!

Part II

#knock you down au #knock you down fic #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x dancer!reader #steve rogers x curvy reader #steve rogers x stripper!reader #mob boss! steve rogers #bucky barnes #mob boss! bucky barnes #chris evans #chris evans imagine

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neonovember · 2 years ago

Text

Two Coffee’s

Mafia!au x Steve Rogers

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3 4

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

divider by @firefly-graphics !

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

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

It had been several weeks since you and Steve got into a routine, you would meet with him to discuss your husband, and he would be the omnipresent blanket of protection in the form of brooding men in dark cars stationed outside your apartment, the diner, your favourite coffee shop. His presence was present in every vessel and part of your life now, and it seems crazy that just 3 weeks ago you hadn't even down the man.

Now it was like he never left. Now it was like he was a part of your routine.

It’s that thought that lingers as you step outside the diner doors and into the chilly afternoon of the Brooklyn streets. With two cups of steaming coffee in hand, you march with a newfound determination towards the indiscreet black sedan that had been parked on the diner sidewalk since you walked through the doors that morning.

They may not speak to you directly, but you couldn’t find the heart to let them sit around for hours on end with nothing but the car heater and a carton of OJ. Especially against the winter breeze that felt like iced knives against your trembling skin.

You tap on the tinted glass gently, scrutinising the reflection that looked too exhausted and angry to really be you. There is a scuffle before the window is sliding until it reaches a quarter down. The man takes a moment to stare you down, hazel brown eyes with deep burly brows eyeing you before recognition clicks in him.

You’re Steves.

He looks at you expectedly, and you remember why you’re here in the first place, the borderline boiling coffee cups going unnoticed by your freezing hands.

You raise them up with a smile, and his eyes flicker to them. The man sitting in the driver's seat next to him bops his head as he catches your eye. Reaching across the brooding man whose stumbled jaw is currently working itself a beat, the man across from him with light eyes cracks an apologetic smile at his friend before accepting the coffee with a nod.

You don’t miss the bristled expression that adores the man as you hand his partner the drinks, all you can do is smile tightly before the window is sealed shut once again, and the only thing meeting your eyes is your reflection itself.

— -

“3 club sandwiches for table 18 hun, and ask if they'd like today’s apricot cobbler,” Caroline says in a rushed voice as she tied back the loose strands of hair escaping from a not-so-neat ponytail.

“You leaving already?” You reply mournfully, as you watch her sneak a few pastries into her duffel bag.

She whips her head up to look at you, her smile pulled down into a pouting frown

“Aww are you gonna mwiss me?” Caroline bubbles out in a screeching high baby voice.

“Ugh, you know I hate when you do that”

“Why do you think I do it” Caroline replies swiftly, wagging her eyebrows playfully

“Seriously though, I’m the only one on shift for the next” You pull up your sleeve to check your invisible watch “4 hours” You moan, following her as she rummages around the back kitchen searching for her phone charger.

A sound of trump escapes her throat as she eyes the hidden wire under a box of napkins

“No can do my beloved, Ron’s asked me over tonight. I think this time he's finally gonna give in” Caroline replies, as she looks over her shoulder smiling at me.

“You and that man. Jesus Caroline, you know it would be a bit easier to date someone..uh I don't know not married?” You gruff, shaking your head disapprovingly.

Caroline turn’s to you, rolling her eyes half-heartedly

“Not everyone can have Brooklyn's hottest mafia slash bachelor slash billionaire wrapped around our finger” Caroline replies, before laughing at your bugging eyes

I told you to keep that on the low dammit!” You hush at her with your hands, eyes searching the empty kitchen in case of eavesdroppers, or men donned in black. Either one scared the crap out of you.

“You know I would never tell a sole, these lips are sealed” Caroline replies, doing a zipping motion with her fingers

‘Yeah yeah, I do. I just wished you were here in case they- he shows up, you know?” You reply softly, gulping down the fear of even thinking of his name.

A look of recognition comes over Caroline’s features, before it is soon replaced with a fury that screams only fierce loyalty and bad decisions.

“Swear to god, if I ever see that man I’m putting a bullet through his skull” Caroline replies, her auburn brows furrowing with a look of determination that almost had you believing her.

“Mhm, with what? A silicon spatula?” You reply, eyebrows clocking up in disbelief, you used humour to mask all your emotions, not just the messed up ones.

“I was thinking a 47 Remington, maybe a shotgun! If I could just saw off the handle, I think it would look pretty good down his throat, don’t you?” Caroline smiles with that innocent look, her eyes shining and her cheeks pushing out the dimples on her left side.

“I would pay to see that” You giggle, before pouting your face as she gathers her bag

“You have Hazel on shift don't ya?” She replies as she notices your kicked-dog expression

“Yeah, but she's as helpful as a sac of potatoes. Too busy talking to Daniel to be of any help” You sigh, swiping a hand across your forehead

At the mention of her name, your eyes watch the young waitress leaning over the kitchen counter, loud boisterous laughter leaving her red rubbery lips as she tries and fails to cover her mouth. Her nails are painted a mossy green but are chipped from her constant biting, and every step of hers jingles from the beady jewellery that adorns her neck and ears.

She had gotten the job in less than a day, and spent less time serving customers than she did suggesting songs for Daniel's busted speaker. The power of connections and a pretty face ran especially deep in the service industry.

Being the restaurant manager’s neice also helped.

Caroline turns to you, shaving her hands in your face to squeeze your cheeks

“Worrin’ will give you wrinkles. She’ll help if she knows you need it. Problem is you never ask don't you?” Caroline replies, unwrapping her apron from her waist and hanging it onto the encrusted wooden hooker.

There was truth to Caroline's words, no matter how much you despised them. All your life you had to rely on yourself, didn't matter if you were in the dusty cabin of your mother's home or the ceiling-high walls of your husband's manor. hell accepting even Steves's proposal felt like pulling teeth, despite every day prior wearing you thin with the lack of protection you held walking through the streets of Brooklyn. You'd taken to wearing a hood most days quicker than you did accept Steve's protection.

“Okay well, women in society have largely been told that they are not allowed to age, so guess my wording is really just a fuck you to the world”. You reply, following her out the back kitchen and down the coordinator to the front counter.

Caroline's laugh echoes through the diner, as she smiles across at you.

“There is hope for us yet” She grins, saying a quick bye to Daniel before slamming the diner door behind her.

Not before screaming out to the bustling street side

“Ya hear that world? Y/N says a big FUCK you”

All you can do is smile brightly as the diner chimes jingle into the growing murmur of the Sunday lunch rush streaming from the diner booth surrounding you.

-- -

“When’s the last time you got laid, Steve?” Rumlows voice echoes in the large office, it's like sandpaper, that voice of his, and it irritates the raging headache pressing against Steve’s temple.

Steve scoffs back a disgruntled noise, shaking his head before flicking through the folded stack of papers left on his desk that morning.

“No, I mean it, they’re usually a sea of women that leave your floor, what happened?” Rumlow edges him, those busy eyebrows rising up in expectation, his bulky frame sitting hunched on the velvet chair across Steve’s.

Steve’s eyes flicker across to Rumlow, searching his face before drifting down to catch the seared tattoo peaking from his rolled sleeve. Rumlow had once been integrated into one of New York's more violent and unstable crime syndicates, the kind that dealt with human trafficking and selling girls like fucking stables.

Steve was already weary of his often violent and ill-tempered mood, the kind that ended up boiling into violent outbursts. But he needed men at the time, and Rumlow was like a trained dog, so he bit back his resignation and enveloped him into the family.

Oh, how he grew to regret it.

“I’m busy, alright, gotta keep fucking Brooklyn from sinking” Steve replies without looking up from his work, swift signature flying over the dotted lines of dock payments and shipments from Budapest.

Rumlow hums, folding his arms across his chest thoughtfully, his eyes linger on Steve’s, analysing him carefully.

“You’re fucking her aren’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“That girl you’ve got us looking after, a goddamn wife, you know what he’ll do to us if he finds out we’ve got his little wife knee-deep in our shit?” Rumlow spits out, venom lacing his tone as his eyes glint with a certain fire.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Steve’s voice bellow from deep within his chest, but his face is unmoving, his features set in stone that refused to wither into clay.

“C'mon Steve, I know she’s a fine piece of ass but is she really that fucking worth it? I mean you’re putting a lot on stake for some tits-“. Before Rumlow can finish his sentence, a loud crunch envelops the room, Steve's fist flying into Rumlows mouth as he shatters his face.

The immediate scream of pain and anguish fills the room, as blood begins squirting out of Rumlows nose, spilling down his white shirt and staining it further, Steve has to restrain himself from killing the man for the way he talked about you.

The sound of Rumlows wheezing whimpers is drowned out by the loud stomps of boots against the hallway floors. The door opens with a thunk, slamming into the wall behind it before Bucky steps into the bloodied scene of Steve’s office.

“Fuck sake Steve” Bucky grunts, as his eyes reach Rumlows crouched position on the floor, holding a hand to his nose to try and seize the blood oozing from the imprint of Steve’s fist.

“Clean that shit up” Steve replies before wiping away the blood off his knuckles with a cloth towel, throwing it towards Rumlow.

“You don’t ever speak to her that way alright? Let this be a warning to all of you, what’s my business with her is just that, my own” Steve snarks, flicking off the splatters of blood that landed on his cufflinks.

Rumlow shuffles awkwardly, reaching for the rag with a blind hand before limping out of the office, his dignity and ego left in the pool of blood staining the plush carpet.

Bucky steps closer, his hands shoved into his pocket as he stares unblinking at the stained carpet.

Steve looks towards him, muttering profanities under his breath as he smooths out the wrinkles in his suit.

“What?” Steve asks Bucky, watching on as his closest friend refuses to meet his eye.

“When you have us shuffle in on rotation to watch her like some fucking fast food gig, you don’t think they’ll be asking questions??” Bucky murmurs

“That isn’t why I asked you to watch her now, is it? They're my closest men-you’re my closest man, and you want to question me? Bucky when have I ever done anything stupid? Huh?” Steve replies, eyes searching through the disappointment that covers Bucky’s face.

“Never, but I think you’re about to start now” Bucky replies, anger lacing his tone as he moves out of the room.

As much as it pained him to admit it, there was truth to Rumlow’s words, Steve had made a name for himself as a notorious bachelor who never slept with the same girl twice. He found a certain addiction in the debauchery of sex, but it was never love. Steve fucked because he liked to hear the sound of his name screamed into the city skies, watching the women he’d bring home unravel before him.

Now though, Steve has to take a moment to consider that his bed was left cold through most nights, the mantel and throne of the mafia king consuming him.

-- -

Pushing through the swinging doors of the diner restrooms, you cough out a gag as you breathe a lungful of air sharply. The diner's bathrooms were usually a mess by the time you closed your doors but god did it seem so much worse today.

Your eyes survey the diner for the crowds of patrons that usually occupied the leather booths but find them empty instead, a few drizzled customers sipping a coffee before folding their newspapers and making their way out.

The sun had dipped into the horizon soon after you had walked through the bathroom stalls, but the winter months caused the night to come quicker than ever, basking the outside with a darkness you can't help but shudder against.

Collecting the diner menus, you shove them into the shelving compartment situated near the doors, and as you reach for a washcloth a sudden feeling of eyes searing holes into your back envelops your senses. It feels like you’re being watched, and it feels like you're just now noticing, the suddenly ominous atmosphere created by the foggy darkness outside causing you to gulp. You crane your neck slowly to search for those pair of eyes, but all you can see is your manager’s head bobbing up from the diner counter.

She gestures with a nod for you to come over, and you discard the washcloth on the table before meeting her eyes.

‘I’m going to head out, just serve the last few customers and lock up for me.” Mare replies, wiping a hadn't across her face as she slings a bag across her back.

“Where did Hazel go?” You reply as you notice her absence from the kitchen

“Oh, she had to attend this party or something so I gave her the rest of the night off” Mare replies nonchalantly.

You have to dig your diners into your thigh to stop from throwing a sharp remark. You had to beg Mare to let you stay home after you’d got that flu going around the city, and even then you had to make it up in overtime. And now she was leaving you to clean up the diner all on your own, so much for a positive working environment.

You think about stealing from the register just to spite her, but you know she would find out either way and then you'd be rotting in a jail cell with an officer calling for your husband to come to pick you up and throw you back into your other living hell.

So you bite your tongue and bid her farewell as she exited the diner without a second look.

You register her words soon after, customers? But you had sworn all of them had filed out hours ago. It’s then that you noticed the hunched figure almost lying over the diner counters, and you move swiftly to reach his stool.

The man from before is perched on one of the diner stools, his grip pressing into the counter until his hands were knuckle white. A stringy black wooden jacket now adores his body, a stark difference from the deep coal black of his tailored suit in that car hours ago. It obscures half his face, scrunched up to cover his nose and mouth.

His eyes dart across the now empty diner booths, ears catching every sound like a hawk, the scar stretching across his face like a white hand pinched and relaxed with every turn of his head.

He’s hiding from something that you know, but you also know he isn't a man to particularly be afraid of getting caught.

Stepping towards him with a tentative shuffle of your feet, you grip your notepad tight around your hand, a tight smile gracing your features as he slowly rises his head from your scuffled converse to meet your eyes.

“What can- what can I get you?” You gulp down the nervousness from your voice, there’s nothing to be afraid of. He wouldn't hurt you- he can’t, Steve had promised. And you don't know why but you take it his word is as good as gold.

“Just a coffee honey, just like the one from before” The man replies, a dead look in his eyes as you note down his order.

“Nothing to eat? I can’t promise you a fresh meal, but we’ve got a few sandwiches I could heat up for you” You reply, you ask just because it's customary, but god you wished he could be out any sooner.

“Haven’t got the appetite ‘m afraid” The man replies, a smile cracks over the ice of his features, that same jagged white scar folding across his face. There's a glint in his eyes that shine against the diner's fluorescent lights, like he knows something you don’t and it scares you to no end.

You nod slowly, before quickly shuffling your body to get behind the kitchen counter. Reaching for a clean ceramic mug, you make quick work of pouring a fresh batch of espresso into the mug, the black liquid swirls like a whirlpool, steam rising from the cup so you have to carry it gently towards his seat. You feel his eyes on you the entire time, and your hands shake a little as you place it out in front of him.

“Anything else?” You say, rocking on the ball of your feet as you watch him carefully.

“I’m all set, thank you” The man smiles up at you, and your eyes furrow at the disingenuous smile that fits all too big on his face, its almost disprorpoatnte like a Halloween mask, all white teeth and dead eyes.

“I would appreciate it if you could join me, however..?” The man adds, eyes meeting yours that burn into you intensely, he still wears that same Cheshire smile, but his eyes, his eyes almost challenge you to say no. To see what would become of you if you did.

“Uhm..I’m on the clock, can’t be chattin’ when I'm meant to be..” You reply, trying to find the right words to say.

“Serving..customers?” The man clocks his eyebrow, turning around to gesture to the empty diner.

“There hasn't been a soul hat walked through those doors ever since you took your little bathroom break honey, so how about you make my crap day just a little brighter by sittin’ with me?” The man frames his proposal like a question, but you know the way he grips the counter tight that he means it as a command.

There is a beat of silence, of you just staring at him, trying to conceal your growing fear before your eyes dart to the diner doors. He catches your eye line, and coughs out a wheezing chuckle, clocking his head to the side.

“You aren’t that dumb, are you?” The man replies in a condescending tone, and you let your failure weigh down your shoulders.

“Follow me” The man replies with a smile, gathering his coffee mug with one hand before pressing the other to the small of your back, causing you to shudder unconsciously. He leads you to one of the booths hidden away from the door, and you sit with your back straight as he leans onto the booth table.

The silence between you both is filled soon with his hurried gulps of coffee, slamming it to the booth table and causing a crack to form like a lightning bolt through the ceramic mug. The violence causes you to finch, and he looks up at you with a grin.

And within a second, the man is quickly unmasking his hoodie from his face, and the scene that confronts you causes a sickening nausea to rise up your throat. The man’s face, which had been obscured by the hoodie earlier, now bears violent bruises and cuts that burst from his nose and jaw like flowers. They glint against the diner booths overhanging light, fresh and still swollen since the object or thing had cracked against his face.

The man grunts at your disturbed expression, slamming a hand down onto the diner counter that causes you to flinch.

“Your fucking protector gave me this, did you know that?” The man snarks with disgust, you're too afraid to meet his eyes but you take in his words slowly.

Your protector? Huh? No… he doesn’t mean-wait

Steve did this?

You can’t dwell on that realisation before the man is rambling to you angrily again

“And for what? You aren’t shit to me, to any of us, and frankly, we’re getting tired of watching your ass mop and clean after fucking truckers and shit. I used to take down fucking men, and I’m here babysitting. I think it’s about time to put out, alright?” He replies a knowing expression across his face that is soon morphed into amusement as he registers your confused expression.

“I mean you do know that’s why he keeps you? Wants to train you to be his little wife like you once were to little old Richerson’s. Or did you think we’d forget about your husband who’s hunting you down hm? Who’s probably going to throw my ass in the Hudson with a missing foot for even talking to you?”

You bristle at the mention of your husband's name, shaking your head as you press your fingertip to your squeezed eyes until you see stars.

No, no no. This was all wrong. Steve said he’d protect you, he had said that. He promised it like his life depended on it, but the truth was, yours did. And now, now he confuses you, your temples start to throb as a headache sets in as it does since that night when you think too hard or try to remember anything from before. Before your husband, before New York, before this very diner booth.

Did Steve really expect you to be some sit-in wife for him? Jump from one prison into another to finally be the last chest piece of his kingdom? You feel sick at the thought, the nausea burning your stomach as you press a hand to your mouth.

“You seriously didn't think you were anything else did you? Women can't be in this world unless they're whores or wives. That’s how it's always been and always will be. Don’t ever think otherwise, or soon you'll just be another fucking useless whore lying fast down in an alleyway” The man grunts, before pushing the cracked coffee mug towards you before rising from his seat, reaching into his pocket to throw a few scrunched bills at you.

“Clean this shit up, and I suggest you start putting out and doing it fast” The man replies, looking down at you before reaching for your chin, raising your face to meet his eyes.

He ticks at the tremble of your lips as you gulp down the nausea and fear still bubbling deep inside you.

“It's a shame really, that such a pretty face goes out like this, you see I didn't want to be the one to tell you this, but he gave me no choice.” The man sighs sadly as if it was the world's burden to carry that information.

“Reckon you could’ve been something if Richardson had not snatched you up like he did all those years ago. Funny how life works though isn't it? Used to be living in tower high walls and now you're scrubbing a dirty restaurant floor”. The man replies softly, yet the words spit out of him like blood, insincerity written all over his face that told you he didn’t feel bad. Not one bit. In Fact, he probably enjoyed it.

He lets go of your chin with a shove, before his loud boots stomp against the linoleum floors, slamming the diner doors behind him with a bang, and leaving you to drown in the ever-growing lies the people you’ve trusted have suffocated you in.

218 notes · View notes

thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 months ago

Text

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 ∽

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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.

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srgntjamesbuckybarnes · 2 years ago

Text

The List (1)

Summary: When a hit list spreads around New York, Bucky’s ex-wife is the only one with any information.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Not Beta’d. I was going to conclude this with an actual ending, but it was getting long so I’ll let the readers decide how it ends. If enough people are interested, I might do a part 2. Comment if you want a part 2.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

Rumors spread through the underground of New York like the plague. Four murders of New York's most elite in the past 72 hours. Floating around the city was a list of names, a hit list for anyone involved with the mafia. Bucky was no stranger to a threat on his life. Being a mob boss, he constantly walked a thin line, a trapeze artist always one slip away from falling into the hands of death. Bucky had the resources and power to not be taken out so easily. If his name was on the list, he’d be toward the end, but no one knew home long the list was or who was on it. His team had spent the past 3 days searching the city for any information on the list. He had to know who was on it.

“Mr. Barnes, sir,” Peter Parker stammered, catching his breath in the doorway. Peter was a prospect, a good kid with a good head on his shoulders. Bucky couldn't understand why such a gifted kid was so eager to join the mob. Regardless, Bucky couldn’t be happier to have such potential, but the kid picked the wrong time to join them. “We have a lead.”

Bucky’s head snapped up from his desk. He had been engrossed in his own research on his laptop that he had forgotten about his men’s quest. Peter’s spine went rigid under the mob boss’s intense stare. He had yet to get used to it. Peter was certain that was why Bucky’s right-hand man, Steve Rogers, had sent him to retrieve Bucky. Well, that or it was part of Sam Wilson’s attempt at a joke to haze the new guy. Either way, Peter had been a fan of Steve growing up. Steve usually was the face while Bucky worked in the shadows, which only made Bucky more intimidating to Peter. He respected Steve though which is why he found Bucky without hesitation.

“Follow me, sir.”

Standing abruptly, the chair Bucky had been sitting in crashed into the wall behind him with a loud bang. He smoothed his rough palms down the front of his pristine white shirt before straightening his black suit jacket. Without a word, he extended his hand behind Peter, encouraging him to lead the way.

Peter anxiously peered over his shoulder the entire way down the hall. He thought he might have been walking too fast, but Bucky’s pace never faltered. Bucky was hot on his heels, always one step behind him. Stopping unexpectedly outside of the boardroom, Bucky hissed nearly crashing into the teen. Before Bucky could reprimand him, Peter explained, “Before we go inside, Steve told me to give you a message.” Bucky’s shoulders relaxed a bit leaving Peter relieved his boss wasn’t going to chew him out. Still, his own dress shirt began to cling to him with the amount of sweat he was producing. Bucky may have relaxed a bit, but his posture was always disciplined, predatory, and intimidating.

“Spill it out,” Bucky huffed, his hands resting in the pockets of his slacks.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Peter nodded, “Right, um- He said don’t do anything stupid and that we need her.”

The jaw of the boss twitched before he stormed past a confused Peter. His hands pressed into each of the double doors using his full force to slam the doors wide open. All eyes snapped to Bucky as he strode into the room, confidence and determination oozing off of him. Peter ushered in behind him, awkwardly failing to close the doors several times before succeeding. A string of apologies escaped his lips as he stepped further into the room. The serious look Steve shot Peter had him clearing his throat and adjusting his dress coat.

Sam and Steve stood side by side on one end of the room, their arms crossed. They were cautious, guarded rightfully so. Any one of their lives could be on the line. For all they knew, everyone in the room was on the hit list. Spying the woman sitting at the middle of the conference table, Bucky stalked across from her. With his eyes trained on the floor, he dragged the chair away from the table but made no move to sit down as he stepped up to the table.

When his eyes met hers, he puffed out his chest. His arms remained at his sides, his hands burrowing in his pockets. Without so much as a greeting, Bucky began his interrogation, “Who created the hit list.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, a frown etched on her crimson-painted lips. “Right down to business, huh Buck?” A smirk replaced her frown. “I should’ve known, you never were one for much foreplay.”

Bucky pressed his tongue to his cheek. He had expected this, her teasing. It was always a dance between them, one he wanted to avoid by cutting to the chase. She always knew how to rile him up, in more ways than one.

“Princess-”

‘No,” she stopped him with her hand raised, “you don’t get to call me that anymore.”

Bucky snorted, leaning forward, “Isn’t that what you are now?”

“Who is she?” Peter attempted to whisper to Steve, but everyone heard him.

Taking pity on the clueless teen, Sam answered, “She’s Bucky’s ex-wife, Y/N.”

Ignoring the other men, Y/N flashed her diamond engagement ring at Bucky. The light reflected off of the ring making it impossible to miss even from where Steve, Sam, and Peter had been standing.

“That title is pending, followed by queen,” she sassed.

It started out as a term of endearment. Y/N always had a taste for the finer things in life, Bucky’s lifestyle satisfied that craving. He enjoyed spoiling his princess, but that was all she would be. A princess, someone no one would take seriously. It had been an ironic twist of fate that she had met an actual prince after her divorce from Bucky.

Examining the rock on her finger, her signature red nail had been replaced by a nude shade. She was no longer accepting his blood money; she had a good man and clean money now. His eyes traveled back to her face, zeroing in on her red-painted lip. Her hands may be clean now, but her lips were still tainted. The secrets she could talk about his business alone could ruin him which reminded him of why she was here in the first place.

“Who created the hit list, Y/N,” he tried once again to control the conversation.

Pursing her lips, she let him.

“I don’t know,” her gaze dropped to the table, “but I know who has it.”

Finally getting somewhere, Bucky reached back pulling the chair behind him. Once he was seated, he snapped his fingers. Not a moment later, a pen and paper were placed in front of him.

“Give me a name,” Bucky demanded, pen in hand.

Y/N raised her head, the man twirled a pen between his fingers tempting her to sign a deal with the devil. Shaking the image from her head she placed her hand over his, ceasing his movements.

“It’s not that easy. He won't meet with just anyone.”

“He?” Steve asked.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Bucky isn’t just anyone,” Sam called out.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “He may very well be suspect number one. It would be bad for anyone to meet with Bucky alone.” Feeling Bucky’s hand turn beneath her own she went to pull away, but he grabbed her hand.

“What about a future queen?”

Eyeing him beneath her lashes, Y/N pulled her hand back to her chest. Noticing the hesitant look on her face, Bucky leaned back in his chair. He wasn’t a fool to think she was here willingly. She wanted something; she needed something.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Bucky asked, “What do you want?”

Thumbing the ring on her finger, she contemplated lying. She didn’t want to need Bucky, but she did. One look at Bucky and she knew he would see through any lie she would come up with, so she told the truth, “I need protection.” Suddenly she felt exposed with everyone's eyes on her. “If my name is on the list,” her voice shook. She wasn’t Bucky’s dirty little secret. People knew she was his wife, well ex-wife. She had ties to the mob and if her name was on the list or if her fiancé found out, the engagement would be called off.

After a long pause, Bucky spoke, “Get me access to the list and let me worry about the rest.”

Relief flooded Y/N. He could have turned her away. He could have blackmailed the information out of her, but he didn’t. Bucky was a rough man, but he was also kind. She had seen it first-hand for many years. Guilt ate away at her for her earlier actions. He knew she had been engaged but she didn’t need to rub it in his face. She wanted to hurt him but only because he had hurt her. A small part of her hoped he would protect her not because he was kind but because he still loved her.

Y/N was able to request a meeting with the man not even 24 hours later. His assistant had sent her an invitation, but it wasn’t for what she had been expecting. Instead, the man had invited her to a gala. He was a businessman after all, and her appearance would be good for business. At a time when she should be laying low, she was about to attend a high-press event.

It wasn’t long after Bucky was notified that he insisted he escort her. Y/N protested but he had argued that he couldn’t protect her if she was dead. That had convinced her, on one condition, they arrive separately. She was still engaged.

The event was beautiful but high glass windows had Y/N on edge. Anyone could see her. She tried to distract herself by searching for the host. There were so many bodies and no sign of the man who had invited her. In the middle of her search, a hand circled her wrist tugging her in the opposite direction. Y/N began clawing at the man’s wrist, an attempt to pry him off. When he stopped and spun around, she crashed into his chest. With her face in his chest, the unmistakable scent of expensive cologne hit her. She shoved his chest putting enough distance between the two.

“Bucky,” Y/N hissed, “you’re supposed to be laying low.”

Surveying the crowd, Bucky muttered, “I am. It’s you who is running all over the damn place.”

Y/N shook her head glaring at him. Not only did he smell good, but he looked good too. He had shaved since she had last seen him. He had traded in his white dress shirt for a black one, forgoing a bow or tie. The top button of his shirt was open, relieving his collarbone. Instead of drooling over her ex-husband she continued to glare at him. It was easier to hate him than to pine over him.

“If someone takes pictures of us together and my fiancé finds out-”

His cerulean eyes shot down to meet her eyes, “Where is he anyway? Shouldn’t you be asking him for protection? Surely, he has the resources.”

Y/N froze, her hands clutching the sides of her silk gown. “He doesn’t know,” she mumbled, then her voice grew. “He doesn’t know about the list, my past, or about you.” Bucky’s eyes softened. He had his doubts before, but he was certain now that she wasn’t happy. He wanted to gloat, to rub it in her fiancé’s face. He knew Y/N better than her fiancé did, and even better, she wanted to tell him. Bucky wanted to make a joke about how keeping secrets in a relationship was unhealthy, but he kept his mouth shut. Y/N sighed, running her hands down her dress to smooth out the wrinkles she had created. “He’s out of the country right now.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she wrapped her arms around herself. His gaze dropped to the floor, but Bucky’s remained on her.

He recognized a lonely soul when he saw one because he was one himself. His lifestyle left few people he could trust. He hadn’t always been lonely though, and neither had she. Bucky’s hand twitched to reach out and hug her, but he didn’t think she would appreciate that with cameras around. He took in her appearance and couldn’t help the squeeze he felt in his heart.

“You look beautiful.”

A giggle escaped her lips, “Thanks, Buck. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He had meant to cheer her up, but her giggle was unexpected. He missed it, he missed her. Everyone he knew in the mob lifestyle had died in the mob. It was poetic in a live by the sword, die by the sword type of way. No one got out, but she did. With his status, he’d never get out and a selfish part of him wanted to pull her right back in.

“You got out, you got away from the life,” Bucky hummed, admiration in his voice, respect.

Y/N shook her head. “No, I just got away from you.”

It was his turn to laugh, “Now if that were true, I wouldn’t be standing here with you.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. I am standing here with you, not you are standing here with me. He meant it. Even if she was here because of him, he was here for her, to protect her. He put her first.

“You of all people know once you’re in there’s only one way out.”

That was it for Bucky. He wasn’t pulling her back in. She never left. They might have been divorced but they had both meant it on their wedding day when they said, “Till death do us part.” Bucky’s calloused hand cupped her jaw just below her ear, pausing. She didn’t push him away. With both hands, she cradled his jaw pulling his face down to meet hers. Their lips brushed one another, slowly at first, testing the waters. Then his other hand slid up the length of her neck, sliding back to tangle his fingers in her hair. It was a dance they were all too familiar with.

The flash of a camera penetrated Y/N’s eyes beneath her closed lids and it was like pouring a bucket of cold water over her. Quickly, she pulled away shoving Bucky’s chest when his lips tried to follow her. She was fucked, royally.

“Y/N?”

Wiping her smudged lipstick, she ignored Bucky’s lingering gaze before turning to face the new voice. A woman in a blue silk dress approached the pair.

“Virginia?” Y/N asked.

The woman waved her hand in the air. “Please, call me Pepper. We spoke on the phone yesterday. Mr. Stark is ready to meet with you. Follow me.”

Without looking back, Y/N followed Pepper through the crowd. She knew Bucky would be right behind her. She would deal with him later. Right now, she needed the names on the list. Upon their arrival, Pepper exited the room, pulling the door shut behind her. On the other side of a glass desk was one of the wealthiest men in the world, Tony Stark.

“Did I interrupt something?” Tony asked eyes darting between Y/N and Bucky. “I swear there wasn’t so much tension before you two walked in.”

Y/N sent him a tight-lipped smile holding up her left hand. “I’m engaged.”

Tony shrugged, “What you do is none of my business. Besides, something like this would be published on the front page.” Y/N’s stomach dropped. “You know what they say, all press is good press.”

“Says the man with a new woman every week,” Bucky grumbled.

Tony smiled. “Precisely, I would know.”

“Mr. Stark-”

Tony loosened the bow tie around his neck. “Call me Tony.”

“Tony,” Y/N corrected, “so you know anything about a list?”

With a raised eyebrow Tony laughed, “If it’s a list you want, I suggest you talk to Pepper. She handles all of that stuff.”

“Not just any kind of list,” Y/N took a step forward, her hands clasped in front of her, “a hit list.” From this distance, Y/N couldn't miss the way Tony’s eyes shifted to Bucky.

“Are you looking to assassinate anybody?”

Bucky held up his hands, “I’m just looking to protect the people I care about.”

Y/N stood still, watching the intense stare-off between the two.

Eventually, Tony sighed, “I don’t want to be in the middle of any of this.” He tapped a few keys on the computer on his desk before turning the screen. “You better get out of here before your fiancé sends someone.”

“What?” Y/N gasped, blindly clutching Bucky’s forearm beside her. Both of their names were written in green on the list. Beneath them were some of Bucky’s most trusted men; their names written in white.

Tony leaned back in his chair. “Green means active. You’re both next on the list and judging by the number of cameras here, someone probably already knows you’re here.”

“You knew,” Bucky growled.

Tony barely flinched. “Your names weren’t active until recently. Other people’s lives are on the line. I can’t get to everyone in time.”

“Wait, why would my fiancé send someone, he’s not even in the country,” Y/N asked, trying to wrap her head around everything.

Tony frowned. “Your fiance is the one who put the hit list out. What better alibi for your significant other’s death than being out of the country at her time of death.”

Y/N would have collapsed if it wasn’t for Bucky’s quick reflexes. He wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her weight.

“Why?” Y/N whispered wide-eyed.

Bucky wanted to drag her out of the building toward safety but was there even a safe place? People already knew their location.

Tony shrugged. “The New York mobs aren't the only mobs out there. They're all over the country, they're in other countries. There are some real higher-ups in the mafia in other countries. The mafia controls everything, it's one of the most powerful positions. Take out other mobs and you can control more area, more power.”

Y/N felt sick. When she said you never get out once you get in, she hadn’t realized how deep she was in life now. Turning to Bucky, he was already on his phone typing. “Bucky, we need to go.”

“No. I text Steve, he’s rounding everyone up. They’ll be here soon.”

Tony’s eyes widened, his eyebrows reaching his forehead. “You can’t be serious. There are cameras everywhere. This will be plastered on every news station.”

Bucky shrugged, lifting the back of Y/N’s hand to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, a quiet promise to protect her. “All press is good press.”

Next Chapter

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crazyunsexycool · 1 year ago

Text

Heart’s Munition

Chapter 4

Pairing: Mob boss!Steve Rogers x Maid single mom!reader

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: mentions of blood, hospital visits, mentions of a seizure, Elijah being a lil shit (in a cute way of course),

Series Masterlist

“Where is she?” Steve demanded an answer through gritted teeth.

“She’s resting in her room.”

“Why didn’t anyone call me sooner?”

Steve took the stairs two at a time. He was furious and someone would be paying for this soon enough.

“You had that meeting with Hansen. If I remember correctly you said to not disturb you because you wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. Also the doctor was with her anyway.” Bucky said as he followed Steve up the stairs.

Steve didn’t knock, he just slammed the door open. Peter sat at the foot of the bed and jumped at the sound.

“What the fuck?” You said as you walked out of the bathroom. “Can you be more careful?”

“Who did this?” Steve ignored your question and looked from Peter to Nat, who was reluctantly laying in bed.

She had been cornered while she was alone. Now Nat was a good fighter, even one of Steve’s best. She also had gained his trust a long time ago, along with Bucky and Sam. So whoever did this knew her abilities to defend herself and still managed to get the upper hand. That wasn’t good, it meant his people were being watched.

“You know who it was. They were sending a message. If they can get to us, they can get to you.” Nat said between pained breaths. She looked bad. Black and blue bruises all over her face and chest. She had a cut lip and a few scratches as well as one eye shut due to the swelling.

“We’re going to send a message back. Do you know who actually did it?”

“It was Quentin Beck.” That was all Steve needed to hear before he was out the door. Bucky again followed closely behind.

“Do you need anything else Nat?”

“I’d like to sit up a bit more.”

“Sure thing. Peter, come help me.” You moved around the bed and helped her sit up while Peter added some pillows behind her.

“Thanks. Peter, could you get me my gym bag, it’s in the trunk of my car.”

“Sure thing.”

Peter hurried out of the room and Nat looked over at the nightstand and then around the room.

“Have you seen my phone?”

“You didn’t have a phone on you when you were brought in.”

“Fuck. Ok, you need to tell Steve they probably have my phone. Go.”

You say a quick ok as you hurry down the stairs and into the hallway that leads to Steve’s office. He’s yelling orders, you can hear his voice by the stairs. It takes you knocking a few times before Sam opens the door. The tension in the room is palpable.

“What?” Steve snaps.

“Nat wanted me to tell you that she thinks they have her phone.”

“Fuck. We have to go now. Someone call Jensen and Stark, let them know they need to burn the phone.”

Everyone starts walking out and you ask them to be safe. You close the door before Steve can walk out and the glare he sends your way would make anyone flinch but you don’t.

“Get out of my way.”

“Listen I know you’re angry but you need to calm down.”

“Calm down? Are you serious? One of the people I swore to protect almost died and you’re asking me to calm down?”

“Yes.” You say in a soft and almost sweet voice. “If you go out there blinded by rage how many more people will end up hurt? They’re already pissed enough as it is, you can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

You see his demeanor change slightly. He’s still angry but he’s reigning it in.

“Also if anyone else ends up hurt I’m going to be pissed as fuck.”

The corner of his mouth lifts a little. The smile is barely there but you’ll take it.

“Even if it's me?” He asks.

“Meh- depends on how injured you are.”

He smiles this time but it’s gone just as quickly.

“Be safe out there and make sure you kick some ass.”

“You’ll take care of her for me?”

“You know it.”

Steve nods in your direction before walking out and you sigh. It was barely morning and the chaos of it all was already giving you a headache. But you marched up the stairs again and checked up on Nat one more time before starting on your regular duties.

When your work day ended you waited about half an hour and no sign of Steve or his men. Dom and Coulson both nagged until you left.

You had been asleep for maybe half an hour when your phone rang. With Eli getting worse you were sleeping less. So you were in a bad mood as you answered the phone.

“What?” You didn’t even know who you snapped at.

“I’m sorry for calling at this time but we need you at the house.”

“Coulson? What happened?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here. You’ll be getting paid four times your regular pay.”

“Uh- I need… I need a few minutes.”

“That’s fine. Dom will pick you up.” He didn’t wait for you to reply.

“Fuck.” You mutter as you dial Mrs. Fields number and ask her to stay with Elijah.

****

“What the fuck happened?” Your eyes grew wide as you took in the living space. There was blood everywhere. The floor, the walls and the furniture. It’s like the fight had happened right there.

“They just got back not too long ago. No one is seriously injured but we need to get rid of the blood. Boss only trusts you and that you won’t say anything.”

“Of course not. Before I start with the cleaning, does anyone need anything?”

“Probably some steady hands. The adrenaline is wearing off by now. They’re taking care of their wounds.” Coulson informs you as he nods towards Steve’s office.

****

“It’s gonna hurt baby but I’ll be quick.”

“I’ve heard that before.” You hear Bucky say with a chuckle.

“You guys are together?” You ask from the door.

Both Sam and Bucky turn to the door, the latter turning red immediately. Sam just gives you a small smile.

“You didn’t know?” Sam asks.

“Didn’t have a clue, you guys are cute together.”

“You hear that babe, we’re cute together.”

“I knew that already Samuel.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Anyways, what are you doing here?”

“Doing what I always do, cleaning up your messes. But I wanted to check in to see if anyone needed anything.”

“We’re good here but maybe check in on Steve. He’s up in his room. The other guys are in the kitchen.” Sam says and you just nod and leave them be. You can hear them saying sweet nothings to each other and can’t help but smile.

As you walk back out toward the living room you see Clint and Scott on one of the couches. They were beaten and bloodied too and they were getting the couch dirty. You sent a worried glance in their direction but they just waved you off as they rummaged through the first aid kit. On the stairs there were drops of blood everywhere and they led all the way to the third floor, Steve’s floor. It made you wonder how bad it had been and if this was a win or a loss for him.

You knocked at the door, where you could see a smudge of blood on the doorknob. There was no answer so you knocked again and still nothing. Worry settled into the pit of your stomach at the thought that he may be passed out on the floor. You open the door and call out his name but nothing. His clothes are on the floor by the bathroom and you hurry over and knock but don’t really wait for a response.

“Steve, are you o-oh my god! I’m so sorry.” You turn around and cover your eyes when you realize his state of undress.

“Y/N, It’s ok I have sweats on.”

“Still I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to barge in on you like this. It’s just you didn’t respond and I saw the blood so I thought you needed help.” You rushed out.

“It’s really ok, you can turn around now.”

You drop your hand and turn around, he does in fact have sweats on. How had you not noticed? More importantly, how had you not noticed the injuries he had? The longer you stare the more you realize he has tattoos all over.

“What the hell happened?” You rushed over, completely forgetting the embarrassing moment just seconds ago.

“A fight.”

“Yeah but everyone looks like shit. Did you lose?”

“Not really.”

“Well if this is you winning I don’t want to see you losing.” You say as you look up at him. “Let me get the first aid kit.” You turn and head to where Steve keeps the first aid kit. “Sit.” You motion for him to sit on the countertop.

“Why here?”

“Because my back hurts and this will be easier to reach the cuts.”

He just nods and sits where you told him to. Steve’s breathing is even until you touch him around his ribs. You think it’s because there’s pain but he knows better. The light touch of your fingers on his skin sends shivers down his spine and although he’s imagined your hands on him it was never like this.

“Steve?”

“Sorry what?” He looks down at you.

“I think you might have a concussion or some type of head injury.”

“No, I was just thinking about what needs to happen next. I’m fine.” He says but really he was thinking about how your touch would feel everywhere else on his body.

“Ok well this is going to hurt.”

You work silently the next few minutes, cleaning and bandaging him up. During the whole process you feel his eyes on you. Every move you make he watches silently.

“Ok, all done.” You put away all of the supplies and make a mental note to have Coulson refill it. “I should go and get started.”

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course. Call me if you need anything and please rest.”

“Doctor’s orders?” He teases and you level him with your best mom glare. “Fine. I’ll rest. Maybe I should have put you out there to interrogate people.”

“The house would be less bloodied.” You murmur before pointing at the bed. “In bed, now.”

“Ok mom.”

You laughed because he sounded so childish but you noticed the way his eyes softened as you did. Like you instructed Steve laid in bed but grabbed his phone and made some calls. There was more to be done and Quentin Beck still needed to answer for what he did.

You made it home right around noon and were beyond exhausted. You dismissed Mrs. Fields and took a quick shower, thankful that Elijah was taking a nap. Instead of going to your couch you scooped him up and cuddled with him as you took a nap of your own.

The afternoon was spent in a daze. Some sleep, some tv and some food while you stayed close to Elijah. At around nine at night you get a text from Coulson telling you to sleep tight. It was code for don't leave your apartment, which meant that whatever was going on with Steve and his enemies was close to where you were.

For most of the night it was fine. You were watching a movie with Elijah but when you turned to tell him something he was slumped to the side. His breathing was shallow and he was non responsive. You panicked and dressed in your pajamas you grabbed him and your purse in order to get to the hospital.

*****

Steve and the rest of his men had taken up residence in the waiting room of the hospital. Everything had gone sideways in a heartbeat and now they were waiting for news for one of their own. He was already anxious enough but the next few minutes would leave him utterly confused.

“Help! Someone please… he’s not breathing.” Steve heard your voice, frantic and desperate as you walked in through the emergency room doors.

Bucky and Sam immediately got up and stood next to him to see what was going on. The last thing they expected was that you were carrying a child.

“Please, help him! He’s not fucking breathing.”

Your second cry for help snapped Steve into action.

“You,” he pointed at a nurse that was taking his sweet time on the phone. “Get your ass up and help her.” He got in the nurse’s face, his voice low and menacing. “If something happens to him I will end you.”

The nurse looked like he was going to shit himself. He rushed over to you as he called out for a stretcher. He asked you a few things before rushing him in to get Elijah breathing again. Steve had to hold you back from running after them.

“It’s ok, He’s getting help. You need to calm down, sweetheart.” He whispered but you still tried to free yourself from him embrace.

“Please he has to be ok.”

“Hey,” Bucky cups your face and wipes away the tears. “He’s going to be just fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“They’re going to do everything they can, Doll. But we need you to breathe. You have to be ok when he wakes up.”

Bucky grabs your hand and places it on his chest and he takes a quick look at Steve who is still holding you. Both of them match their breathing as Steve softly asks you to do the same and eventually you calm down.

“Sweetheart,” Steve turns you around so that he can look at you. Your eyes are red and your cheeks are tear strained. It breaks his heart to see you like this. “Who is that? Is he your little brother or something.”

By now he had pulled you into the waiting room the rest of his men were at. They all knew you so they were concerned at seeing you so distraught.

“He’s my son.” You say in a low sad voice.

Steve was left speechless and so was everyone else. Never in his life did he imagine you to be a mother but a lot of things clicked into place. He silently told two of his men to move to allow you a seat and of course one next to you for himself. Steve never lets you go though, he keeps you tucked into his side but you’re too upset to notice the closeness.

“You have a son? Since when?” Sam asks.

“Since eight years ago.”

“This isn’t one of those situations where your parents died and you had to take care of your little brother so now you’re technically his mom but not really?” Scott asked really fast. Steve shot him a glare over your head.

“He’s my son, my baby ok. I carried him for nine months in my belly. I have the pictures to prove it or I can show you the video of me pushing him out of my vagina if you want. ” You snapped.

“Sorry, it’s just, you’re so young.”

You rolled your eyes.

“It’s called a teen pregnancy, look it up.” Then you look at him and frown. “I’m sorry Scott I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Ok that’s enough, everyone out. Except for Bucky and Sam.” Steve ordered, reluctantly the men left.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

He’s called you sweetheart three times in the last few minutes but you don’t say anything. Right now you relish having someone at your side. Sitting alone in the waiting room was always the second hardest thing for you to do.

“Do you need us to call someone?” Steve asks and pulls out his phone.

“No.”

“No? Your parents or your son’s father?”

You give him a humorless laugh.

“The latter broke up with me the minute I told him I was pregnant and the former kicked me out when they found out. So no, there’s no one to call.” You sighed, “Wait, maybe Peter? He knows about Eli. So does Coulson and Dom by the way.”

“I’ll call Dom, I’m sure he won’t mind coming in.”

“Wait, where is Peter? I haven’t heard from him all day.” You look from Bucky and Sam to Steve. None of them would look you in the eyes and you sat up straighter. “Why are you even at the hospital?”

“Sweet-“

“Don’t sweetheart me. Why are you here?” You ask again, cutting Steve off.

“He was shot. He’s currently in surgery, that's why we’re here.”

“Bucky what the fuck.”

“Thanks Bucky, at least you had the decency to tell me.” You glare up at Steve.

“I didn’t want to stress you out more than you already were.”

“Family of Elijah Y/L/N?” A nurse calls out from the doorway. Immediately all four of you get up.

“Is he ok?”

“Yes, we got him stabilized and we’ll be moving him to a room. Why don’t you follow me and I’ll take you to him. Only two people at a time though.”

“It’s just me.” You give the nurse a sad smile. You’ve only taken one step when someone grabs your hand.

“And me. Call me when you hear about Peter.”

Steve squeezes your hand to reassure you that he’s there for you. Both of you silently follow the nurse as she brings you to the small room Elijah is in until he’s moved upstairs. The moment you’re behind the closed curtain you rush over to his side. You take his hand and lean down to press a few kisses on his forehead before whispering that you’re there with him. Steve just stands back and watches the scene unfold. His heart aches for you and he wants nothing more than to give you some sort of comfort.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what does he have?” Steve asks after a few minutes of silence.

“The doctors don’t know what’s wrong with him or how to help. He’s been sick for about a year. We’ve tried different medicines but nothing seems to really work. He has his good days but recently it’s been all bad days. ”

You struggle to hold back a sob. Elijah’s health has been declining so quickly that you fear it’s only a matter of weeks or even days before you lose him. Steve gets closer to you and pulls you into a hug. You cling to him like your life depended on it. Even with Mrs. Fields there to help you, you’ve always felt truly alone in life. Somehow it felt different with Steve there.

Steve excuses himself for a moment and disappears outside of the curtain. Just as quickly as he left he comes back and wraps you in another hug.

The sound of the curtain being pulled back has you moving away from him. A young man walks in with a tired smile on his face and lets you know he’ll be moving Elijah. He moves around the space efficiently and soon enough he starts pushing the hospital bed down the hallway. Steve places a hand on your lower back and guides you. He doesn’t stop you from leaning into him while the elevator goes up. Your eyes are half closed when Eli is finally set up in a private room. That wakes you up and you’re quick to protest that you can’t afford a private room.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it.” Steve tells you.

“What? No way. He’ll be fine in a shared room. There’s no way my insurance will cover this.”

Steve cups your face so that you have to look at him. His expression is stern as he looks at you.

“I don’t like repeating myself, sweetheart. But I will right now. Don’t worry about it, you focus on Elijah. That’s all you have to do, try to rest so that when he wakes up you can be there for him.”

“Fine,” you murmur before looking at the clock on the wall. “I can squeeze in two hours of sleep before I have to be in.”

“Be in where?”

“For work?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve mutters, looking st you completely dumbfounded. He has never met anyone that has made him go through so many emotions in such a small time frame.

“No, I have to work. I need the money.”

“Fuck the money, Y/N. As of this moment you are on paid leave and you don’t come back until he’s out of this hospital.”

You shake your head. “I can’t accept that.”

“Well you don’t have a choice.”

You both start whisper yelling at each other now. Steve grabs you by your arm and pulls you outside of the room.

“I do and I’m going into work.”

“And who is going to be here when he wakes up?”

“My neighbor, she’s his sitter when I’m at work.”

Steve rubs a hand over his face. The situation hits way too close to home. The only difference is that now he has the power to do something and he won’t take no for an answer, even if he knows you’re stubborn as hell.

“If you had to choose between you being here or the sitter being here if money wasn’t an issue, which one would it be?”

“Me obviously.”

“And I’m giving you that opportunity. Please, don’t think about work or about your paycheck. I will pay you, I promise. Just be here for him. I promise you there won’t be anything that will make your kid happier than you being the first person he sees.”

Your eyes well up with tears again as you look from Steve to Elijah’s frail form on the bed.

“Ok, but only for a few days and then I’m back at work. I don’t like just taking money, I have to earn it.”

“For fucks sake woman. How about you take a week and then we’ll talk about it.”

“One.”

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

“One day and I’m back at work.”

“Five.”

“Two.”

“Three,” he gives an exasperated sigh before shaking his head. “Three days and we will talk before you even think about working again.”

“Fine. Also you have to let me know how Pete is doing.”

“Deal. So is this what Peter found out when I had him follow you.”

You nod as you walk into the room. At the other end there was a window seat that doubled as a bed. There was a pillow and a blanket already folded and ready for use.

“I begged him not to tell you.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want anyone to threaten Eli so that they could use me against you. I don’t want to put him at risk, I take a long way home just to make sure I’m not being followed.”

Steve’s hands were on his hips as he listened to you. That wasn’t something you should have to worry about when all you were doing was working to try and give your son a chance to live.

“Why not work somewhere else?”

“Because people don’t like to hire single mothers. Before I started working for you I had to work two to three jobs and I barely ever saw him. When I found the job posting as a maid I just went for it. It was enough that I could quit the other jobs and even get an apartment. But then he started getting sick and well here I am.”

He just nodded. It felt like he was watching memories from his childhood replaying right in front of him.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me or anything. I’ve managed just fine.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you. I admire you even more now.” Steve says. “Get some rest, I’m gonna head back to wait for news on Peter and Dom will be here in the morning. Anything you need he’ll get it for you.”

“Thank you.”

Steve just offers a small smile and walks out.

By day break Steve was already back on his way to the room Elijah had been set up in. He had some coffee and breakfast for you, as well as good news about Peter. Thinking you’d be awake he was already calling your name as he walked in.

“Y/N, the surgery was a success.” He stopped in the middle of the room when he realized you were asleep beside Eli’s bed. He frowned when he saw you hunched over sitting on a chair while holding your son’s hand.

Steve was surprised to find your son looking back at him. He placed the coffee and breakfast down on a table and moved the other side of the bed.

“Hi Elijah, how are you feeling kid?”

“Are you my doctor? You don’t look like one.” Eli asked in a hushed voice as he sized up Steve. He looked frail but tough.

“No, I’m your mom’s friend.”

“Wrong.” Elijah furrowed his brows. “My mom doesn’t have friends. And she doesn’t have a boyfriend either, so you’re not that.”

Steve chuckled but then cleared his throat when he saw Elijah was glowering at him.

“Well I’m sure she does have friends. But anyways, you can call me Steve and I'm your mom’s boss.”

“Oh, and you brought her breakfast?”

“Yeah. Is that bad?”

Eli shook his head. “No, but I’ve heard mom tell Mrs. Fields you’re an ass. So that was nice of you.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at that. Elijah was a little copy of you, especially that mouth of his.

“So how are you feeling bub?” Steve sat down as he waited for an answer.

Elijah looked from Steve to you and back. A certain kind of sorrow that no eight year old should ever experience crossed his eyes.

“My tummy hurts and so does my head. But really I’m worried about ma.”

Steve’s eyes softened as they looked your way.

“She’s barely been sleeping. I know she checks in on me while I sleep. And I know that she was probably really scared last night.” His lower lips trembled. “And I’m scared too.”

Steve’s heart ached for this kid. He knew exactly how he felt, having to spend so many nights in the emergency room with his own mother.

“Scared of what?”

“That I won’t get better and then ma is gonna be all alone.”

If mob bosses cried this is where it would happen. Steve had to look away for a moment and compose himself.

“Well, I’m not going to let that happen. I’m gonna make sure you see the best doctors available. But I need you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“That you’re not gonna give up. Even when you’re in pain or extra sick, you’re gonna keep fighting.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Steve smiles. “Now, how about you wake her up and I’ll have the food reheated.”

“Ok.”

Steve stood up and grabbed everything. Just as he headed toward the door he could hear Elijah calling you softly. With a look over his shoulder he could see him gently caressing your face.

****

You stirred from your very uncomfortable sleeping position and were greeted with a very happy Elijah.

“Eli.” You smiled as you sat up and stretched. Immediately you felt the ache in your body from having fallen asleep the way you did. It didn’t matter though, your sweet boy was awake and that’s all you could ask for. “How long have you been awake?”

“A while.”

“Then let me get a nurse.”

“One already came by. I asked her not to wake you up. She didn’t say much, just that everything looked fine.”

“Ok, well I’ll ask when someone comes back. Did they say you can have breakfast?”

“Yeah, it will get delivered at the regular time.” Eli nods.

“Ok good.”

You smile again at him and stand to kiss his forehead. As you pull back you hear footsteps and assume it’s a nurse.

“Good you’re up.” Steve says as he stroll in. “Got you breakfast.”

You just looked at him for a moment. Surprised by the kind gesture you give him a quick thank you before taking what was in his hand.

“Elijah, this is my boss.”

“Steve, I know.”

“It’s Mr. Rogers to you.” You corrected.

“I told him he could call me Steve.”

“When did this conversation happen?”

“While you were drooling on your arm.” Steve teases. You send a playful glare, the exchange making Elijah giggle.

“How is he?”

“The surgery was a success.”

“Oh good.” You breathe a sigh of relief.

“What surgery?”

You looked over at Elijah wondering if you should tell him or not. “Peter got hurt. He had to have surgery but he’s ok now.”

“Oh, can we visit him?”

“I’ll see what we can do.”

There was a little knock on the doorframe and you all turned to see Bucky and Sam. They both had their arms full of bags and smiles on their faces.

“Good morning.” Bucky said as he walked in and proceeded to dump all of his bags on the window seat. “Hey kid.”

Elijah just looked at you waiting for an explanation.

“Eli, this is Bucky. My friend.”

“But-“

“If you finish that sentence you’re gonna be grounded until you’re 30.”

“You never told me you had friends. Why haven’t I met him before?”

“Because we’re new friends, kid. I also work with Steve and we’re best friends.”

“And him?” Eli motions to Sam who was also placing bags on the seat.

“I’m Sam. I’m also friends with your mom and with Steve.”

“What about Bucky?”

Sam and Bucky look at you to see if you were ok with Elijah knowing.

“Sam and Bucky are partners, baby.”

“Like cops or like boyfriends?” Eli asks.

“Like boyfriends.”

“Ma?”

The tone of his voice let you know he was about to destroy you with whatever he was going to say next. You frowned by m but answered anyway.

“Yeah?”

“If guys can have boyfriends now, you’re never gonna get one.”

Sam, Steve and Bucky started laughing and Elijah seemed very happy about it. Even if it was at your expense.

“Do you want your mom to have a boyfriend?” Bucky asks as he looks at Steve with a smirk.

“Maybe, but he’d have to go through me first. And I’m not gonna make it easy for him.”

“And now you have us and we’ll help you.” Sam adds.

“Ok, I think that’s enough about me. What did you guys bring?”

“Gifts.” Bucky announces with a smile. He moves over to the pile of bags and starts to walk some over to the bed. “These are ‘get well soon’ gifts. From your new uncles, kid.”

Elijah’s eyes were wide as he looked through the bags to find legos, remote controlled cars, a drone, another video game console, more video games and gift cards. He was so excited the nurse had to come in and check on him because his heart monitor was showing an increase in his heart beat.

“Can I keep it?” The question had been directed at you.

All eyes were on you. It wasn’t that you necessarily wanted to take these things away, you just wanted Eli to learn that not everyone would be as giving. To not expect everyone to just give him stuff, that sometimes he would have to work for what he wanted. Before you could say anything Steve caught your eye. He nodded with a small smile, silently telling you to let Eli keep everything.

“Of course you can, baby. You heard uncle Bucky. They’re ‘get well soon’ gifts. Now what do we say?”

“Thank you.” Eli beams.

“You’re welcome.”

Bucky and Sam move to sit beside him and the three of them start playing with some of the toys that are already on the bed.

“We’ve lost them.” Steve says jokingly as you walk to stand beside him.

“They’re gonna teach Eli everything I don’t want him to know aren’t they?”

“Yup.”

“I'm going to completely blame this on you.” You quip.

“I’ll take full responsibility. But while we’re here, I had them bring you some things too, so that you can freshen up if you want.”

Steve had started motioning for the other bags on the seat across the room when the monitors attached to Elijah started beeping erratically. He slumped backwards and he was unconscious on the bed.

“Get the toys off the bed.” You tell Sam and Bucky. The four of you move quickly and remove the last toy just as the nurses and a doctor walk in.

“Get them out of here.” A doctor instructs, referring to you and the guys.

Steve puts his arm around your waist and pulls you out of the room while you fight to stay beside Elijah.

“They need their space to work.” He mutters in your ear.

You stop trying to get out of his hold, it’s the only thing that’s keeping you up at the moment. Steve turns you away from the hospital room and into himself. Your silent tears make their way onto his dress shirt but neither you nor him seem to care.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” A doctor calls out as someone wheels out Elijah. “We are taking him to have some scans done but at the moment we think he may have suffered a seizure.”

“A seizure? But why is it happening?”

“It's only a possibility that it’s a seizure. We’ll do our best to find out what’s going on. We’ll bring Elijah back in about an hour or so.” He says before he walks away.

You just stood there, trying to process what you’ve just been told. This was just another symptom in a long list of things that had been happening to your son.

The men looked at each other unsure of what they should do. It was heartbreaking on so many levels. First, seeing a child so sick and with no answers was enough to soften the heart of most. Second, you yourself were fairly young and having to go through something like this wasn’t easy. Add to it that you were working for a very dangerous man and it added to your stress. Third, you were all alone from what they had learned. Well not anymore, I’m that moment Steve had decided that he was going to be there for you no matter what. He didn’t know that Sam and Bucky had spoken about the matter as well and they were willing to provide you support in whatever capacity you needed it. Whether it be emotional, physical or financial. Right now it was emotional and Bucky was the first to move and bring you into a hug and let you cry into his chest.

3 days.

That’s how long you had been in the hospital. 3 days and still no closer to any answers. Elijah was stable enough to be discharged and around noon Sam was waiting in front of the hospital in an SUV to take you home. He had already packed up everything for you the night before and taken it down to the house, all you had to do was walk down with Elijah and the nurse that was pushing the wheelchair he was in.

“There he is.” Sam smiled as you walked out the main glass doors. “Ready to leave this place little man?”

“Yeah, I just want to go home.”

Sam looks at you confused. The plan was to stop at your place to grab some things and then stay at Steve’s place for a while.

“Baby, we’re only only going to stop by the apartment so that I can get a few things. We’re staying at Steve’s place for a few days so that I can work.” You remind him.

“Oh ok.”

Sam gives you a sympathetic smile and helps get Elijah in the car before opening the door for you to get in. The drive is quick and before you know it you’re in your apartment grabbing a duffel bag and placing some clothes in there for yourself and Eli.

“Y/N?” You hear from the front door.

“In Eli’s room.”

“There you are child. Who is that man that has Elijah? He didn’t let me get close enough to say hello.”

“That’s Sam, he’s a friend from work.”

“My dear, where are you going? Did something happen to Eli?” She watches as you move around the room.

“Nothing new. My boss said I could stay at the house for a few days and keep Eli with me so I’m just packing a few things.”

“What, couldn't he give you the time off?”

“Yes, he was more than willing to give me the days off but I didn’t want to. So we compromised. I’ll see you in a few days ok. Could you lock the door on your way out? And call me if you need anything.” You say over your shoulder as you walk out and head back to the SUV.

****

Eli fell asleep on the ride to Steve’s place. So when you got there you grabbed him while Sam and Bucky grabbed your things. At the sound of Dom’s voice Steve steps out of his office and heads to the living room to find you with Elijah in your arms. God, you looked exhausted.

“Let me take him.” Steve says in a quiet voice as he grabs Elijah from you.

He nods his head in the direction of the stairs and you follow him up. You had agreed to stay on the second floor but he just walked past the hallways and up another flight of stairs, his floor.

“Steve. I thought we agreed that we would stay on the second floor.” You whisper.

“I changed my mind. I want you close in case you need me.”

He gets to the top of the stairs and heads to the left hallway. It’s still on his floor but there’s some distance. Steve nods towards one of the doors and you open it so that he can walk in. The room is huge as most of the other rooms are. This one has been prepared especially for you though. Elijah’s new gaming systems have been hooked up to the tv. There’s a basket with some self care products in it for you. Some new pajamas for both of you and the other things that Sam and Bucky had bought and taken to the hospital. Everything was neatly arranged and all you had to do was rest. This was a dream and it was why you were against it.

Going back to your small one bedroom apartment is going to be difficult. Especially for Eli since you know everyone will want to come by and spend some time with him. Bucky had even started a schedule so that everyone had time to hang out and not overwhelm him. The only type of support you’ve had since he was born was Mrs. Fields and you weren’t sure if it was that you were tired or your honest gratitude or a mixture of both but you wanted to cry. Actually you did cry, silent tears as you watched Steve lay Eli down and tuck him in. You had never seen him be so gentle and you asked yourself why couldn’t he be Eli’s dad. He would be a great father, you just know it.

“C’mere.” Steve startled you out of your daydream as he hugged you. You leaned into it, desperate for any kind of comforting touch. “It’s ok, just let it all out.” He rested his hand on your back and moved it up and down soothingly.

“I’m such a mess, I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Why don’t you take a bath and then a nap. It might help you relax. I’ll have Dom send dinner for you both.”

“Oh it’s ok, I can go down and get it.” You say quickly but Steve just shuts the idea down.

“Nonsense. He already volunteered to do it.”

“Ok.”

Steve smiles and turns you toward the bathroom. “Go relax, you deserve it.”

“Thank you, for everything.” You say over your shoulder.

“It’s the least I can do.”

****

Later that night, before Steve goes into his room he can’t help but check in on you. He knocks softly but with no answer he decides to just open the door. The sight causes his chest to tighten. With the light of the hallway he can just make out your form on the bed fast asleep. Elijah clings to you like a koala with his head on your chest and your arms wrapped around him tight. As if he would disappear if you let him go.

Steve has decided then and there that he will do everything in his power to give you the answers that you so desperately need. The best medical team and treatment to make Elijah better and if you let him he’d give you so much more. But he knows you’re stubborn. He also knows that the way to get you to agree to anything is to include Elijah in it. Steve would be lying if he said that little boy hasn’t already stolen a piece of what he thought was his cold dead heart. But like mother like son and you’d both weaseled your way in there even when he promised himself he wouldn’t let something like that happen again.

Ch 5

Permanent masterlist:

@rebekahdawkins

@cjand10

@nalny5

@Sturchling

@angywritesstuff

@seitmai

@writing-for-marvel

@goldylions

@almosttoopizza

@littleseasiren

@pono-pura-vida

@talesofadragon

@midnightramyeoncravings

@bunnygirlwriter876

@pandaxnieenke

#Hearts Muntion series #mob boss!steve rogers #mob boss!steve rogers x reader #single mom!reader #maid!reader #Steve Rogers x single mom!reader #Steve Rogers au #mob au

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talesofadragon · 2 years ago

Text

𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Synopsis: The world was not created in colors to be lived seldom in white, black, or even gray. This is what Y/N believed, and she resolutely refuses to be told otherwise. But when a night at the city’s most prestigious nightclub triggers a series of misfortunate events, Y/N’s world of hues is thrown off balance, colliding with a stranger whose eyes may be blue but his world is a handful of shades too dark.

Pairing: Mob Boss!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Mature scenes. Minors DNI.

｡°ᯓᡣ𐭩 Chapter 1 | Flat White

Though teetering on the edge, Purgatory was poised to be a night she wouldn’t forget. Abandoned by her best friend and dismayed by the color schemes, Y/N felt herself on the brink of disaster. Yet, an unexpected encounter with a stranger shifts her world—whether for better or worse, she hasn’t yet determined.

｡°ᯓᡣ𐭩 Chapter 2 | Morally Gray

Purgatory marked the beginning of her descent into hell. After two weeks of relentless torment, Y/N thought things couldn’t possibly get worse. But then they did. With no other options, she turns to Steve for help.

｡°ᯓᡣ𐭩 Chapter 3 | Star Command Blue

There's always more than meets the surface. So what lies beneath the gilded facade of Steve Rogers?

｡°ᯓᡣ𐭩 Chapter 4 (Coming soon)

A/N: Blame @crazyunsexycool for this one. When the first scene of this "one shot" bordered 3K lines because yours truly cannot for the life her forgo evocative descriptions, I knew I needed to reevaluate the direction of this fic. I'm hoping to have the next chapter out sometime soon. Stay tuned 🩵

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x female reader #captain america x reader #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel mcu #avengers #steve rogers x y/n #mafia steve rogers #mob steve rogers #mob!steve rogers x reader #mafia!steve rogers x reader

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 year ago

Text

Nero Rose || Mob!Steve Rogers

Character: Mob!Steve Rogers x Detective!Reader

Warning: None

Words Count: 1,539

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

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

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

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi please 🥹

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

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

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

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

Until you did.

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

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

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

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

-Flashback Start-

He said, "Steve Rogers got stabbed."

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

"He's still alive."

You scoffed "Too bad."

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

-Flashback End-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How did you know?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You should've known that you have lost.

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

Steve nodded.

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

-Flashback Start-

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

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

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

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

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

Since that moment you got him interested.

-Flashback End-

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

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

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

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

Both of you stopped arguing and looked at the TV.

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

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

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

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

"Boys."

"YES BOSS!!!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly he got an idea.

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

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

"Heck yeah."

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

Main Masterlist || Buy me Ko-fi please 🥹

#chris evans characters #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x y/n #mob!steve x reader #steve rogers au #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers #captain america

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dyinglikenarcissus · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter 6. All Good Things Come to those Who Can Wait

7k words

Warnings: 18+ only. Virgin’s first time. It starts off gentle but it definitely gets rough

Please like and reblog if you enjoy ☺️

There’s a knock at your door far too early in the morning. You scrub your eyes and try to discern if it was part of a dream or real life.

Another knock makes you finally sit up.

You blink around your bedroom blearily. You weren’t expecting any packages or visitors. Maybe it was surprise PR…

You finally kick your feet to the floor and shuffle to the living room. You pull the step stool you keep near the door in place and check who’s outside.

“Bucky?” You whisper to yourself. Jethro chirps happily next to you as if confirming the visitor is his favorite babysitter.

“Good morning, princess!” He greets far too cheerfully for this early in the morning. “Were you asleep?”

“Who isn’t? It’s 5am on a Saturday,” you mumble and fall into his hug.

“It’s a good thing I brought you coffee,” he laughs and hands you a Dutch Bros cup. This is the most cheerful you’ve seen him since your wedding day. And he stopped up north for this? “I need you to pack up your shit and the pipsqueak.”

Your eyes widen at the statement. What did that mean? Were there more feds? Is there another trial? Are you running from someone?

“What’s going on?” You frown up at the giant brunet. “Is something… happening?”

Bucky snorts out a laugh. “No. You’re going on vacation.”

“Vacation? What? Now? Where? It’s almost Halloween! And the wedding!”

Bucky gives you a pointed look. He still hasn’t had that talk apparently.

“Am I going to Disney Shanghai?” You ask, changing the subject quickly.

“No.”

“Then I’m good.”

“Girl, if you don’t go pack your stuff!” Sam calls as he enters the door. You cry out his name and jump into his arms. “It’s been far too long,” he laughs into your hair.

“Missed you,” you whisper.

“We missed you, too.”

“Even Bucky?” You laugh.

“I may have missed Jethro more. All you do is steal my best friend and eat hot chips,” the brunet jokes as he scoops up your cat. “But I do miss our coffee runs.”

“He stopped going to Starbucks after you moved back home.”

“It’s because they support Israel or something. I’m trying to be proactive.”

“Yeah, right. And not because I told you that on the flight over,” Sam smirks.

“I know stuff!” Bucky defends himself. You giggle at their antics. You didn’t realize how much you missed them.

“What am I packing for exactly?” You ask, stopping an argument from breaking out.

“It’s a surprise,” Sam grins.

“But bring plenty of swimsuits."

“And sunscreen.”

“And if you have one of those big sun hats like the girls on Insta have, you might want to bring one of those.”

“Okay, so beach maybe? There’s a beach 30 minutes from here. Why do I need to go anywhere?”

“Why do you have to be so difficult?” Bucky sighs. You roll your eyes at his statement.

“How long?”

“However long you want,” Sam smiles.

“You know, Steve promised no more surprises after Sausalito,” you sigh and cross your arms over your chest. The man gets locked up for a couple of years and it’s like everything he said was forgotten.

“Yeah, well, Stevie ain’t here,” Bucky grins.

“And unless your grandpa was murdered on a private island, we doubt you’ll be upset.”

“Private island?”

“See! Now you’ve told her!” Bucky sighs and falls onto your couch. “Oh shit! No shoes in the house, huh?” He asks and starts pulling off his shoes and tosses them near the door.

“Steve did say no surprises,” Sam shrugs and slips off his shoes. “Do you need help packing?”

You let out a deep sigh. It’s not like you had things planned…

“No. Just give me a couple of hours.”

“Take your time,” Sam bids.

“You got Netflix?” Bucky asks making himself comfortable.

“Nope. Just Disney, Discovery, and Amazon. Watch the Property Brother,” you laugh as you walk into your bedroom.

“The new season of The Boys started,” you hear Sam state as you walk away.

An unknown time on a private island. What do I even pack?

A couple of hours later, you start cleaning the toilets and the kitchen. You don’t want to leave your little condo in a state that looked like it was lived in. You mother would turn over in her grave.

“Okay, guys. I’m going to run the trash outside and I’ll be ready.”

“I got it,” Bucky grunts and stands up.

“Are you sure? Do you know where it is?”

“No. But I’m sure you’ll tell me.” You giggle and give him instructions on the trash and recycling before ushering Jethro into his carrier.

“Okay. Chargers? Cell phones? Camera? Cables…yeah. Oh! Almost forget your lime!” You exclaim and start to look around for the catnip lime toy. You get on the floor to look under the couch.

“Why is there a lime under the couch?” Sam laughs.

“It’s a toy. Kamala got it for him for his birthday and he loves it.”

“Like that one under the curtain?”

You whip around to see where’s he’s pointing.

“That’s it!” You crawl over to it and toss it in a bag with the rest of his food and toys. “Alright. I think I’m ready now.” Bucky returns just as the words leave your mouth.

“About damn time,” the brunet sighs. “I wanna go home.”

“I’m not the one who burst into your house at 5 am and told someone to pack for an unknown amount of time to go to some beach. Could be rainy. Could be hot. Could be cold. Who knows! I had to wash my clothes and my towels-”

“Hey, hey, hey. Relax,” Sam plays referee as usual, taking your bag and ushering everyone out the door. “You’re going to love this. Don’t waste your energy fighting him. That’s all he wants.”

You roll your eyes and glare at Bucky before pressing past him with Jethro on your shoulder.

You do have to admit: you miss this. Sam and Bucky checked in on you about once a month. But it was always a quick phone call to see if you needed anything or to make sure you got the money they sent you.

Steve did promise to take care of you. You didn’t know ‘taking care’ meant you were now making six figures for being a man’s wife.

This must be what the trad wives are aspiring to have. And you don’t even have to cook and clean to get it.

You finally get to fall back asleep on the plane, curled up on the seat as Jethro plays in the cabin. You aren’t sure what Bucky and Sam are up to and you honestly couldn’t care less. You were exhausted.

The plane eventually lands at a tiny airport somewhere in South America.

“You gotta take a boat from here, princess,” Bucky sighs after waking you up and you ask what’s going on.

“You can keep Jethro if you want or we can take him back to New York,” Sam offers.

“Wait. Are you two leaving me?” You ask.

“It’s a short ride. You’ll be fine. You’re a big girl,” Bucky smirks.

You narrow your eyes at him. “I’ll keep my cat, thank you very much.”

“You sure? You might just want to relax,” Sam offers. You’ve never met two men who thought your cat was such a burden.

“No. What do you think he’s going to do? He’s a cat,” You laugh

“Just making sure,” Sam grins

“You two are being so weird.”

The two of them escort you and your luggage to a yacht docked at the ocean.

“Alright, princess. Be good. Have fun. Don’t do anything crazy,” Bucky bids giving you a half hug.

“Have fun. Enjoy the weather. It should be pretty mild this week,” Sam grins before pulling you into a bear hug.

“Too bad you two have to head back,” you sigh. “You could’ve told me to bring a friend.”

“Nah, this trip is all about peace and quiet.”

Peace and quiet, huh?

You’ve been running from that for two years. Peace and quiet only brought of thoughts of regret and longing and how much you missed him…

Yeah, you’ll definitely need Jethro.

You wave your goodbyes and find a spot on the upper deck to watch the waves.

Shit. You had no idea he would get seasick.

You eye his carrier dubiously before asking the captain, “How long is the ride?”

“About 20 minutes, ma’am.”

He can handle it for 20 minutes…

He could not handle 20 minutes. Suddenly this thrust upon you vacation can’t end fast enough.

Your head is splitting by the time you made dock. You rush after the captain to get on dry land. You don’t even notice the world around you as you rush inside.

“Okay, baby. Okay. Just give me a second.” You find the first room that seems to be closed off and release the poor cat just for him to throw up on the tile floor. “Oh, baby,” you coo and rub his back. Hopefully there are plenty of paper towels in this house. “Mommy’s sorry. Let it out.” He throws up again and starts to walk off. He must be done.

“Okay. Stay here. Don’t touch that. I’ll be right back.”

You leave the room, closing the door behind you. You find the paper towels and thank the captain for bringing in your luggage before tending to your cat and finally taking a chance to breathe.

He put your stuff in the master bedroom which gave you the chance to explore the house.

Wow!

It really is beautiful. This must be one of Steve’s millions of homes. Completely modern fixtures, an infinite pool that ended at the ocean. Not another soul for miles. And the land outside was a lush jungle. You expected a little monkey to pop out a tree at any moment.

Maybe Sam and Bucky were onto something when they sent you out here. Your creativity was waning lately. Your channel was suffering but you honestly just weren’t interested in anything. You kind of just wanted to live. It was nice that you didn’t have to rely on a pay check anymore and you could finally focus on what you wanted to do.

But you had not idea what you wanted to do…

You sigh as you finish unpacking and finally release your cat from confinement.

“You feeling better?” You ask him as he rubs against your legs. It was easier just to let him recoup in isolation than to have him throwing up all over the house.

“Are you hungry?” He chirps happily. You step into the fully stocked kitchen fill a bowl with his cat food before stipulating your own meal. They even got your favorite chips and sour candy! And Biscoff cookie butter! You snatch the tub and spoon and let out a content sigh before feeding your cat.

There’s a fresh platter of sushi and sesame chicken in refrigerator just waiting for you. You microwave the chicken and grab a glass of rosé and make your way out to the patio.

Your food is all set up but the view is calling to you. You can’t help but lean over the railing and watch the sunset over the ocean.

Jethro slinks through the open door and rubs against your leg before letting out a happy chirp.

“It’s beautiful, huh?” You ask the cat, bending down to scratch his head.

“I’ll never get over that view.”

You stiffen at that voice. You know that voice. It wasn’t Sam or Bucky or even Natasha or Scott.

This was a voice you hadn’t heard in over two years.

The tears start to prickle your eyes before you even look at him.

You turn slowly.

There he is. Leaning against the door frame, big arms crossed across his broad chest. His blond hair is perfectly done as it had always been. That thick beard was back in full force. His ocean eyes sparkle as he watches you, giving you a quick once over before a smirk graces his full lips.

“Ocean’s pretty nice, too.”

You rush into his arms. He lets out a soft oof as he catches you and you wrap your legs around his hips.

“Missed you so much, star,” Steve sighs into your hair.

“Missed you,” you mutter into his neck. The tears start to fall but you just cling to him even tighter.

Steve chuckles lightly and sits down on the bed. “I’m not going to disappear. Promise.”

“Don’t trust you,” you sniffle.

“I don’t blame you.” He holds you like that for a moment while you take him all in. His scent, his solid body under you, the feel of him.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your meal,” Steve mutters as he strokes your hair, gripping your twists lightly as his fingers tangle there.

“Oh!” You sit up to watch him. “Are you hungry? There was a bunch of food in the fridge so I figured it was for me.”

“You were going to eat my sushi?” Steve asked so seriously that you tense up.

“Was it yours?” You asks sheepishly.

“You think I would just order myself food and nothing for my wife?” He smirks.

Your shoulders relax and you let out a laugh. “I wonder about you a lot,” you counter.

“Such a fucking smart ass.” You can’t help but smile and tuck your face back into his neck. “Let’s go eat.”

You get him a plate and a glass of whiskey.

He immediately takes a sip and groans in pleasure. “That’s good,” he sighs.

“What was it like being locked up?” You asked sheepishly.

“Not terrible actually. I was on like the lightest level. I had my own apartment, a chef, a maid, a full gym. People came to visit all the time even though I asked them not to. It was like being at home but under constant surveillance. I even had a cell phone,” he chuckles.

You just watch him for a second processing what he said. It didn’t sound any different than regular life. Except for one thing.

“You never asked to see me?”

He lets out a heavy sigh before running his fingers through his hair. “Star, I missed you so much. Part of me was gone. But I know you and I knew you couldn’t be there.”

“What?” You bark.

“You never listen and you have to always ask a million questions. Especially after a direct order not to talk about something.”

“A direct order?”

“Star, I know you told your friends everything. I knew I couldn’t trust you.”

“I don’t owe you anything, Steve! I’m not one of your lackeys!”

“No, you’re not. But I’d rather not see you for two years than have conjugal visits for the rest of my life!” You blink at him at his out burst before averting your gaze.

“I just wish I knew what was going on,” you whisper, pushing your empty plate away.

He sighs again and stands up, taking the empty plates. “I’m going to work on it. I don't want anymore secrets between us.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He places a kiss on your forehead as he walks back inside the house. You let him handle it. He spent two years being catered to on the government’s dime. He can cater to you for an evening.

You cross your legs and pull out your phone. You feel extremely conflicted all of the sudden. You were so happy to have your husband. But all you can do is be upset with him…

You groan and scrub your eyes.

Steve returns about ten minutes later with his sleeves rolled up showing off his massive forearms and making your mouth water. You almost forget why you’re mad at him…

He holds out his hand for you. “Come on. Let’s go sit by the water.”

You ignore his hand and stand up to lead the way outside. You hear Steve sigh and he catches your hand, not letting you get too far without him.

“We’re on an island alone. No one’s going to attack me,” you bite, glaring at his hand.

“God forbid I missed my wife after two years,” Steve bites back.

“You could’ve had me whenever you wanted.”

“If I was in there for life, I could never get my vasectomy reversed! We could never have a kid! I’d be in maximum security and couldn’t see you as often as I want-“

“Why couldn’t you just trust me?” You turn on him.

“I’m sorry!” He shouts back. “Okay? I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I didn’t even give you the chance. I’m sorry I kept so much from you. I should have let you in. I just-I’m just-“ He lets out a frustrated growl before releasing your hand and stalking toward the water.

Shit.

He’s never done that before. Your calm, cool, collected husband seems to have finally snapped.

Maybe you should call Sam or Bucky…

No! This is your husband. You can handle this. You refill his glass and top off your wine and follow him out to the beach. You find him sitting in an Adirondack chair staring off into the horizon. You missed seeing him like this. His golden hair shines in the dimming light. His bright blue eyes glitter slightly.

You take a deep breath before stepping up to him.

“I’m sorry,” you offer handing him his drink. “I was kind of intense. You just got home and I’m stressing you out.”

He gives you a once over before accepting the drink and pulling you into his lap.

“Don’t apologize. I’m…broken. It’s not your fault.”

You sigh softly as you fall into lap. “You’re not broken. You’re just old and your back and knees hurt.” He lets out a soft chuckle at that. At least you can still make him laugh. “I told you before we got married that I want to be your peace. I want to be your confidant. You told me I had to earn that. I was so weak after the wedding. I made a mistake but I didn’t tell anyone else. They promised not to tell anyone else. I obeyed. I did as I was told for two years. I think I’ve earned something.”

“You have, star.” He takes a deep breath and a swig of his drink. “Alright. Where do I start?”

“The beginning,” you prompt and get comfortable.

“Okay. Well, Bucky was abducted by this guy name Johann. His street name is Red Skull. He runs this nazi gang called Hydra in Europe.”

“What?” You ask skeptically.

“Yeah. I know right? Racism does indeed still exist. Sam and I thought Buck was dead for years. Everyone said he was dead. We had a funeral and everything. Bucky was my yes man and I needed some kind of muscle. Sam tried to step in when he could but he’s such a pacifist. Always trying to help people. I needed someone that would fuck someone up, no questions asked. One day, along comes this guy named Rumlow.”

“He’s the one the FBI guy asked about?” Your eyes widened at the revolution and that you have some degree of knowledge about the characters in his story.

“The one and only,” Steve sighs bitterly. “Tony recommended him. Said he’s got nothing but love for the guy. He was trying to get out of California so he came to me. I put him through the ringer. Had him sell drugs to cops, smuggle stuff from overseas, print weapons. He did it all flawlessly. I don’t know, maybe a year goes by and I finally let him into the circle. All is going good until I hear about Tony and his big ugly tower in Manhattan.

“Tony and his family have always kept to the west coast. Fury ruled the East until I took over. This tower was like a war declaration and shit hit the fan. Alliances were tested. Rumlow didn’t make the cut,” He states simply.

“What happened?” You ask softly.

“I don’t tolerate double crossers. He had one foot in my camp, one foot in Tony’s, one in Hydra’s, and one in the feds.”

Shit! “He's a government nazi?”

“Was.”

“Shit,” you whisper out loud this time. This was legitimate gang stuff. No wonder this Rumlow guy it was so important.

“It brought about the rare occasion of Tony and I working together.”

“So, that’s why he came to the wedding?” Steve hums positively while running his fingers along the grain of the chair’s arm. “And you guys are a united force?”

“For now. It’s shaky.”

You take a deep breath. “Wow,” you sigh out.

“And you, my little star, happened to be filming your little video on my dock at the exact same moment I was taking care of mine and Tony’s ‘problem’.”

“What was even on my video because I didn’t hear anything?”

This was it. Your chance to finally get an answer to this three year dilemma.

“Tony’s yacht, Rumlow’s car, the address which was mine. All in one place after Rumlow was last seen at his New York office.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Steve smirks.

“And all this time I thought you were over reacting.” Steve lifts his brows in silent disagreement. “Okay. From this point, no more secrets?”

“No more secrets,” Steve agrees. He tucks a finger under your chin directing your gaze to his. “That means you, too. Sam said you’ve been playing fast and loose with my black card.”

Your face heats.

“I didn’t think you’d find out about that,” you whisper.

“You didn’t think I’d wonder where a million dollars went?”

“No! No! Sam told me to help out with the philanthropy thing so I did!”

“And I want to hear it from you,” he smirks.

“Okay, well,” you start defensively, crossing your arms over your chest. “I donated a wing at UCLA for Kahhori’s Choctaw program. And I donated to Marvel’s women of color program so Kamala can write her own story. And I made a scholarship program for Kate’s archery school so 100 students can go tuition free.”

“Very nice, star,” Steve smiles. “But there’s about $10 grand unaccounted for.”

“What?” You whisper.

His ocean eyes narrow. “On February 10, to a Dr. Steven Strange in Beverly Hills?”

“Oh, that,” you laugh nervously. “Um, I honestly didn’t think you would notice that.” Especially because it came out of your bank account…

“Well, I did. Talk.”

“Okay,” you say slowly. “I got a breast augmentation.”

“A breast augmentation?” He repeats as formally as you said it making you smile. His fingers strum along your hip comfortably.

“Yes. A breast augmentation.”

“Do I get to see them?”

“I mean, you technically paid for them,” you concede.

“It’s still your body.”

“I want you to see them,” you whisper.

“Oh, you want me to see them?” He grins, gripping your hips with both hands so you’re straddling his waist. You smile, biting your bottom lip and nod.

You squirm in his lap for a moment before removing your shirt. You didn’t know your husband would be seeing them or you would’ve worn a nicer bra. But you glance down at your new Ds in your simple t-shirt bra before looking back up at him.

His eyes are focused solely on your chest as his pupils dilate slightly.

“I wish I wore something more lacy for you,” you lament.

He glances up at your face before his eyes flick back down.

His silence is a little unnerving.

“Do you like them?”

“Can I take your bra off?”

“Well, yeah. I guess.” His hands slide up your waist to your back.

“You guess? Give me an answer, star.”

“Yes, you can take off my bra,” you giggle.

He hums positively and uses one hand to unhook the bit of cloth. They fall naturally with out the support to perky mounds.

“Can I touch?”

“You are being so respectful,” you laugh.

“I’m not a monster. Just because we’re married doesn’t mean I own you.”

“Steve, you can do whatever you want with me.”

“Oh, don’t say that, star. I’ll actually listen.” His hands finally cup your breasts and his thumbs brush over your nipples.

You shudder slightly in his grip. “Sensitive?” You nod, biting your bottom lip and gripping his shoulders.

“Do you like them?” You ask. There’s a slight whine in your voice that you can’t stop after having your husband’s hands back on you after so long.

“Give me a chance to give ‘em a test drive. So impatient.” He squeezes them tentatively then presses them together. “They feel great,” he states like he has something more to say but is holding back.

“But?”

He gives you a look that tells you he’s about to hurt your feelings.

“But,” he takes a sharp inhale and you steel yourself for the blow. “I think you could’ve gone a little bigger.” You smack his hands away at that and he lets out an amused chuckle as you cover yourself.

“They’re great for playing with but how can you wrap them around my dick?”

“They were never meant to be wrapped around any dicks!” You protest. “Especially not yours!”

He continues to laugh and his hands fall back to your hips. “There’s my girl. I was afraid you lost your edge without me around to push your buttons.”

“It’s still present and accounted for,” you huff.

“Don’t play mad,” he smirks, tucking a finger under your chin.

“I’m not playing.”

“They’re perfect. They look beautiful on you. You look beautiful no matter what, but you know that.”

You continue to pout.

“Hey,” he directs your attention to him, gripping your chin so you’ll comply. “You know you’re my beautiful star, right?”

You watch him for a moment before finally nodding in defeat. He hums positively. “Im glad they gave you the confidence boost you were looking for.”

“I love them,” you finally smile.

“I love that you love them.” He pulls you to his lips for a gentle kiss that quickly turns deeper.

“Are we done talking?” He asks, rubbing his hands up and down your hips.

“No! We’re actually married now. We have a whole relationship to flesh out.”

Steve smiles softly. “That can wait. I need my wife now.”

His fingers tuck into your shorts and you quickly stop him. “Hold on! I’ve been traveling all day. Can I take a shower first?”

Steve smiles softly. “On one condition: I can join you?” You grin and nod.

The two of you clean up the remnants of your meal and you finish unpacking, filling the master bathroom with your toiletries.

Right next to his.

This felt like a big step. You could poke though his lotions, what kind of toothpaste he uses, his face wash and body wash. He seemed like a simple man based on his toiletries. Dove combination body wash, shampoo, and conditioner, Cetaphil face wash, Vaseline lotion. Oh? He uses Sauvage? No wonder he smelt so good.

You inhale the bottle’s spritzer and Steve walks in catching you red handed.

“You like it?” He asks with a lifted brow.

“Yeah,” you laugh sheepishly.

“Good. I like yours too.” You giggle and he steps next to you to pick up your perfume bottle. “I tried the cologne version of this a while back. I don’t think it mixed with my chemistry.”

“I can’t imagine anything smelling bad on you.”

He presses a kiss to you forehead. You both place the bottles down back next to each other. “I better warm up the water for you.”

“Thank you,” you sigh.

You toy with the hem of your shirt. He just saw you topless. This should be easy…

He unbuttons his shirt and tosses it in a clothes hamper. His undershirt and pants quickly follow. He gives you a once over while you toy with your clothes and he lets out a soft sigh.

“Do we have to start all over again from step one?” He smiles.

He steps up to you and lifts your shirt over your head. You left your bra in the bedroom. He works on your shorts next, pressing them down your hips and leaving you naked for him.

“Beautiful,” he smiles after giving you a once over. He presses his boxers down and tosses them toward the hamper.

He’s one to talk. You forgot how beautiful he is.

You share a tame shower then lotion and dry off. You watch Steve while you both brush your teeth and figure out how to phrase your request.

“I have to change. Do you mind waiting in the bedroom?”

“Change? Into what? I’m just going to take it off,” he chuckles after spitting out his toothpaste into the sink.

“I just have to…change,” you draw out the word. You know it doesn’t make sense but you wish he’d just listen to you.

He watches you for a moment before shrugging. “Fine. Change.” You smile up at him as he leaves the bathroom and closes the door behind him.

You may not have worn anything cute enough that you deemed worthy for him to see.

But you brought something.

Now you just have to remember how these straps work…

You step back in the bedroom and find Steve lounging on the bed with his towel still wrapped around his waist. Jethro is playing with one of your scrunchies that Steve is whipping around the bed for him to chase.

Oh! He’s a good cat dad, too.

You smile while watching him for a moment until he looks up.

His eyes widen and he gives you a once over. He looks down at Jethro as he steals the scrunchie right out of his hand before diverting his gaze back to you.

“Okay little man. You gotta go play with that in the living room.” He scoops of the cat with the scrunchie still in his mouth and pulls himself from the bed. “I have some business to take care of with your mom.”

“Can you make sure all the windows are closed?” You request as he totes the cat away.

“Yes, ma’am!” He calls.

You slide into his space on the bed and pull your phone to you.

This deserves at least a selfie. But just for you.

“Losing my virginity realness” you type over the image.

“Is there a photo shoot going on in here,” Steve asks, reentering the room.

“Just commemorating the moment.”

“It only took us two years,” Steve chuckles sliding into the bed next to you. He poses for your photo and presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Alright. Hand it over.” He holds out his hand for the phone. “No more distractions.” You hand it to him. “Next time, we’ll make a video. But this time, it’s all about you.” You giggle and accept his kiss.

He cages you in his arms as he leans over you. He presses a kiss to your lips before pulling away slightly. You stare into his eyes while he watches you. You never noticed there’s a little green around their rims. They’re so pretty.

“I’m gonna take my time with you. Tell me if something hurts or doesn’t feel good. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” you whisper.

Steve’s gaze flicks down to your chest. His fingers slip under the strap covering your nipples to pull it away. “This is so not like you, star,” he mutters looking over the leather covering your body.

“Bucky picked it out,” you admit.

“Remind me to thank him. Get him a new car or his own plane.”

“You like it?”

“I fucking love it.” He presses himself down your body, kissing your chest and your navel before ending just above your pussy.

He pulls the leather aside and he licks a strip up your slit.

“Fuck, I missed how good you taste,” he groans. His hand slides under the leather to get it out of his way as he starts to devour you. You forgot how good he was at this. A whine almost immediately escapes you.

“Steve,” you whimper. Your hips roll, grinding them into his face just to feel him a little deeper.

“What’s wrong, star?” Steve asks between licks. “You need someone to scratch that itch? You need to cum?”

“Y-yeah. Please, Steve,” you cry.

“Don’t worry. ‘M gonna take care of you.”

You bite your lips and throw your head back against the pillows. You legs writhe to clamp together but his large body is in the way.

He tucks a familiar finger in your core and he finds that spot inside you almost immediately. You cry out his name and squirm harder.

“Keep making those noises. I fucking love ‘em,” Steve hums and pulls you clit between your lips.

It’s too much! He’s so good and he knows you so well. You don’t even stand a chance.

It doesn’t take much more to have you spilling into his mouth. You forgot how amazing it felt to come on his lips. It can’t compare to any of your toys.

“So good for me,” Steve praises into your stomach and kisses just above your core. You squirm against the bed while you catch your breath and come down from your high.

You blink your eyes open to him lazily stroking himself between your legs. You glance down at his thick cock before meeting his gaze again.

“You gonna stop acting shy?” Steve asks.

“Maybe,” you joke with a tired smile. He chuckles and tugs lightly at the buckles holding your lingerie together. It loosens and falls away into a heap under you.

Steve reaches over to the bedside table a pulls out a small bottle.

“What’s that?”

“Lube. I got you nice and wet but I don’t want to force it.” You nod. He really does want to make sure it all feels good. He slides the lube up and down his cock before he rests his hands on your spread knees. “Remember what I told you?”

“To tell you if it hurts.”

“Good girl.”

He presses his cock against your folds and finds your entrance easily. Almost instantly you feel like this is not supposed to be inside you.

You whine and clench up on him, pulling your knees to your chest.

“Hey, don’t do that. Relax.”

You bite your lower lip and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No. It just feels like a lot of pressure. Like I’m putting in a tampon. A really big tampon.”

“Wow. That’s exactly what I want to be compared to: a big tampon.”

You giggle. “I’m sorry! I don’t know how else to say it.”

“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes. “Just try to stay relaxed.” You take a deep breath and he presses further into you. There’s more pressure but it doesn’t exactly hurt.

You wince as he hits a certain point. “Okay, maybe more like a Pap smear,” you cringe slightly.

“Star! That’s way worse than a tampon,” Steve groans.

“What do you know about a Pap smear?”

“I was married before you, remember?” He chuckles.

“Okay, well, why don’t I stick a speculum in your asshole and take some swabs so you’ll really know?” You grin

“I’ve had my prostate exam, thank you.”

“You’re that old?” You gasp.

“That’s it.” He thrusts into you to the hilt. You take in a sharp inhale and stare up at him.

You open your mouth and only a small squeak escapes.

He smirks. “That shut you up.”

“I can’t stand you,” you grit through your teeth.

“And I love you.” He presses a kiss to your lips and flips you on top of him. “Now relax for a minute.”

“Like this?” You cry, pointing to where you’re connected.

“Yes, like this,” he sighs and rests his hands at the small of your back. “We’ll continue when it stops feeling like a Pap smear.”

You roll your eyes at him and and fold your arms over his chest to rest your chin on.

“You still love me? Even with all the shit I put you through?”

“I never stopped, star. Even when you get on my very last nerve.”

You smile softly. “You’re just ‘ight”

“‘Ight?”

“Yeah. You’re cool and all but you can be kinda an asshole. But you’re my asshole.”

“Should I tell my doctor you’ll be performing my prostate exams from now on?”

You hum positively. “They have my permission to continue keeping you healthy. I need you around for as long as I can keep you.”

“As my wife, you stand to gain a lot if I die.”

“I’d loose too much.” Your fingers graze across his bare chest. Your hips shift and you gasp at the feeling of your clit rubbing against his pelvis.

“Something you like, star?” Steve groans, adjusting his own hips to chase after yours. You let out a soft whine and suddenly he feels so good resting inside you.

“Still feel like a Pap smear?”

You shake your head and whisper a “no”.

“Good,” he grins. He turns you both back over and cages your head with his hands. You instinctively hook your ankles behind his back. “Tell me if I’m too rough.” You nod.

He drags his heavy member out of you, making you gasp out, right before he presses right back into you.

You mewl softly as you arch your back. Then he does it again and again.

“Fuck, star,” Steve groans. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” His lips attach to your exposed neck and he sucks and nips your sensitive skin, traveling along the column of your neck.

“Steve,” you whine.

“Yes, star?” He breathes against you skin. “What’s wrong? Tell me how I can fix it.” You can only cry out his name again. “Do you like it?”

“Uh huh!”

“I knew you’d like it,” Steve chuckles softly.

“W-why did we wait so looonghhh?” You moan.

He pauses and stares down at you.

“Why did we wait, Mrs. We Have to Get Married First?”

You heave a deep breath. You wanted to make this one count. “It’s Mrs. Rogers, actually.”

He lifts a brow and pulls completely out of you. “So fucking annoying. Get on all fours.”

“But you still love me, right?” You ask coyly while you turn over.

“I’m going to love fucking the shit out of you,” he chuckles darkly.

“What happened to being gentle?”

He grips your hips and pulls them back to meet his. His big hand presses your upper body down into the pillows.

“You’ve obviously gotten too comfortable.” His thumbs spread your pussy open so delicately, you wonder if he was lying about getting rough. Then he presses into you in one quick thrust leaving you whining into the expensive cotton bedding. “You need more.” He thrusts into you at a high angle, seemingly looking for something inside of you.

“Huh uh uh uh,” you huff at every beat and quickly understanding what it means to be fucked into a bed as you knees start to give out from his weight.

Then you know exactly what he’s after. He presses into that soft spongy part of your core and you let out a muffled scream.

“Ahhaaahaa!” You cry while still trying to breathe.

Did you…

You think he just…

And he did it so easily!

“Star, you came all over my bed.” He spanks your ass cheek softly. “Making a fucking mess.”

He sounds anything but disappointed in you. Proud, even.

“I-it’s your fault!” You cry into the bedding.

“What was that?” Steve grunts and lifts you by you hair so your back meets his chest.

You whimper at suddenly being manhandled and gasp at the fresh air.

You fucking love it.

“I said,” you breathe, “it’s your fault.”

“Damn right, it’s my fault.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as his big hand slides from your belly to your chest to cup your breast. “And I’ll do it again in a heartbeat.”

The hand in your hair finds your chin and he pulls you into a deep kiss.

Fuck. He’s good.

At this angle, he feels like he’s getting so deep and he’s hitting that perfect spot over and over. You moan into his mouth and your hand finds his arm against your chest. Your fingers thread between his and he pulls both your hands away to kiss the back of yours.

“Love you, star,” he mutters.

“Suddenly being gentle again?” You question.

“Just wanna make sure I don’t send you running.”

You look back at him. “I won’t run.”

His eyes roam up your body to your face.

“I trust you.”

He presses another kiss to your lips.

“Good. Trust me.” He thrusts into you again leaving you crying. Your head falls back against his shoulder while he holds you in place.

“Fuuuuck!” You cry to the ceiling. You can’t count how many times he’s tossed you over the edge but he just keeps catching you.

“God, you feel so good. Fucking made for me,” Steve grunts in your ear. You can barely hang on while he fucks you senseless. Your breaths come out in quiet cries. You’ve never felt like this. Like you were so completely understood. He knows what makes your body tick. He remembers even after two years; how you like to be touch, how to hold you just right, exactly what to whisper in your ear to make you go crazy for him.

Like he was made for you. Maybe you were made for each other.

“I’m close, star. You want me to pump a baby into you?” You were not in the mental place to have this conversation. You never wanted him out of you. He could stay firmly rooted in you pussy for the rest of time.

“Inside! Please, Steve!” You cry.

“Inside it is, star.”

He presses your upper body back down into the pillows and doubles his efforts.

“Oh, God! Fuck!” You scream but it’s muffled. The sound of slapping skin and Steve’s grunts fill the room but you can barely hear any of it over your own moans.

Stars fill the darkness behind your eyelids as he brings you to one last orgasm. Steve lets out a satisfied groan and a warmth spreads through your belly. You whine as you come down, pressing back against his hips to ride out the last of your ecstasy.

“Fuck,” Steve grunts as he empties himself in to you. He rests his chest against your back and attempts to catch his breath. “Shit. Star, you okay?”

You take a few deep breaths, still coming down from your high. “I’m perfect,” you sigh.

He pulls your hair away from your face and kisses your cheek.

He pulls you into his arms and rolls you both on your sides. You heave a heavy breath as he softens inside of you.

“So?” Steve asks, running his hand across your stomach.

“So what?” You exhale. “You want me to tell you you give great dick or something?”

He just chuckles softly behind you. “You’re going to be a pain in my ass for the rest of my life.”

“Damn right,” you giggle.

He presses you down on your back so he can watch you. “I can’t wait to deal with you for the rest of forever.”

“Do you use that line on all the girls?”

“Just the ones I marry.”

“So, two out of three?”

“You don’t know how many women I’ve been with,” he scoffs.

You give him a dubious look. “Okay, Mr. Rogers. How many?”

“Four.”

“Oh, I was way off then!” You laugh then gasp as you feel everything leaking out of you.

“Oh, shit! Let me get you a towel! Stay still.” Steve rolls from the bed and into the bathroom. You attempt to clinch to keep it all in but it’s such a strange feeling. Steve returns quickly with a warm, wet towel.

“Alright, relax. There you go. Better?” You nod and he gives you one last wipe before tossing the towel in the corner. He leaves the room again and returns with two water bottles and Jethro meowing happily on his heels. The cat jumps on the bed and immediately sniffs at a wet spot.

“Oh my God, Jethro! Stop,” you whine, directing the cat in a different area. Steve chuckles and pulls the comforter from the bed to toss next to the soiled towel.

“Someone will clean it up in the morning,” Steve advises.

“Thank you,” you smile and finally accept a bottle.

“Drink up. You lost a lot of fluids.”

“Oh my gosh! No you too!” you giggle as your face heats even more. “Was it that much?”

He hums positively while sucking down half of his bottle. “And you looked so fucking beautiful doing it, too.”

You smile. “Not as beautiful as you.”

“Oh, now you’re lying to me?” He laughs and tosses the throw pillows across the room and pulls back the sheets.

You snuggle next to Steve and he pulls you into a gentle kiss before lying back on the pillows.

You rest your head against his shoulder and your hand find his on his stomach. Jethro finally settles down next to you and starts cleaning himself.

You smile and lift your conjoined hands and press a kiss to the back of his. “I love you, too,” you whisper.

The two of you lie in silence and you’re pretty sure Steve is half asleep when you speak. “Hey, can we do it again?”

Steve laughs softly. “I knew I gave good dick.” You giggle and press a kiss to his cheek. “Give me thirty minutes, star.”

Fin

Chapter 5 | Master List

#steve rogers fanfic #Steve rogers x reader #mob boss!steve rogers #black!reader #mob boss!steve rogers x black!reader #Steve rogers smut

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ramp-it-up · 19 days ago

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Peach, Part II

Part I Part III

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' best friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky because it's the right thing to do. When Steve meets you at one of his businesses and lies to you about a myriad of things, It becomes a sticky situation, especially since the attraction you feel for one another is so sweet.

Pairing: Bartender/ Art Dealer (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: I love these two and there is so much to say. More parts to come.This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and occurs up to the events in the Bucky Barnes fic You've Got me Thinking. I'm so done for with Steve and Peach. The next part will be published next week! ☺️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angsty angst! Steve is called ‘Steve’ and ‘Grant’ alternately, depending on POV. Mutual pining, masturbation, financial difficulties, mild stalking/surveillance, Steve lying, Steve using an alias, exotic dance life; wild thoughts, flirting, hand holding, intense sexual tension, kissing, making out, feeling each other up, third base, dirty talk, voice kink, praise kink, fingering, finger f ucking, betryal. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

November

“Peach…”

Steve whispered it like a prayer, or a spell, trying to conjure you to appear next to him in the king sized bed with Egyptian cotton sheets at the Four Seasons. His voice was a gravelly groan and he tried to keep his hands off himself despite the lurid thoughts playing behind his eyelids.

He couldn’t stop thinking of you and he couldn’t calm down.

And it was all your fault.

Steve felt as if he had a hangover although he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol. His mind was clouded with dreams of you all night. Your eyes, your voice, and your wit were drawing him to you.

The image of your body and that pole, the sway of your generous hips, the swell of your breasts made him breathless and made his cock thicken under the covers. It rose and pounded to the beat of his heart when he thought of those eyes.

The fantasy of those eyes blown with lust as you opened your mouth wide to deep throat him impelled his hand to his thick staff and tight balls.

“Fuck!”

He wasn’t going to do this.

Steve flung the sheets away as he stood up to pull on some basketball shorts and a t-shirt, grabbing his key card as he left his room on the way down to the hotel gym. He only nodded politely at the hot brunette who smiled at him as she got on and stood too close. Steve shifted away and stared up at the floor indicator panel as he thought of you.

There was no one else in the world as he floated to the treadmill on a cloud of thoughts of you. As he increased his speed, he replayed all of the different colors in your eyes as you talked to him yesterday. He ran toward an impossible dream of you and him together.

Yeah. Steve Rogers, known to you as Grant Stevens, was screwed.

—--

You woke up with a gasp as your body convulsed from your wanton dreams. You sat up in bed and tried to capture the wisp of your vivid imagination that had gotten you there. You were so wet for a certain new bartender at your night job.

The only thing you could remember from the dream was the image of Grant’s lips and the sensation of his fingers on your hand from the day before. You ran your hands down your body and tried to imagine what his touch and those lips would feel like everywhere you wanted them to be.

Your fingers found your clit and your tight nipples, squeezing, pinching and rubbing in time with your desperation for Grant. You came quickly as you imagined those lips replacing your digits and his deep voice in your ear.

After, you lay in bed a moment longer, satisfied for the moment, yet yearning for the real thing. It had been too long since you’d had human romantic contact.

But you barely knew the man. You shook your head as you padded to the shower to start the water and then to the coffee maker to turn it on.

Your real-life daily routine had no time for Grant Stevens.

Sorry to that man.

—

Steve sat in the coffee shop at the corner of Peachtree and West Peachtree street at 10:30 am. He grumbled to himself thinking of all the streets similarly named in Atlanta which also reminded him of you.

But the streets weren't making him stalk you at your day job. He was there to research his investment.

That was it.

He looked down at his laptop, open to the file that his tech guy, Miles, was able to send over to him in just under two hours. Thanks to the information therein, Steve knew that you would be in at any moment to get the typical online pick up order for your morning break. He also knew that you’d been at work since 8:30, which was amazing considering you got home at 3:45 am.

Steve learned that you worked as the Adult Dance Coordinator at the Atlanta Ballet, which seemed like a high end job, but when he saw your salary, 40K a year, he realized that was just a little over $700 a week. Your bank balance was at zero and your student loans were astronomical.

He understood why you worked your second job.

Your degree was in Dance Performance and Choreography from Spelman, and based on the look on your face when you went into Regine the day before, the way you were immersed in the music when you warmed up, and the way your body moved, he knew that you were good at it.

Steve looked back at his laptop to see that you also had your own fledgling dance school, Peach Preserves. The photos on the website made him smile. He could feel your energy with the kids through the screen. It warmed his heart to know that you were trying to make your dream work.

He happened to look up at the moment that you entered the cafe. He almost ducked under the table, but you didn’t see him, just went to the counter, picked up your drink and chatted briefly to the barista. Then you headed out of the door, in the opposite direction of Atlanta Ballet headquarters.

Five minutes later, Steve was tailing you on a walk around the huge Atlanta city block as you sipped your coffee and smiled at almost everyone.

You were such a cutie, from your sickeningly cute, sensible heels, to the fucking cute pencil skirt that conformed to your curves and caused more than one person to crane their necks as you passed them, to the damn cute cashmere sweater that wasn’t tight, but still molded to the body that Steve itched to feel for himself.

As you went back into your place of employment, Steve felt a loss at you being out of his sight. He felt like a 14 year old kid watching his crush go to class.

But this was not that, he thought. He had to know what type of employees Regine had, and you were the sample. He was just handling business.

That was all.

—-

Steve was busy the next couple of days straightening out the finances and employees at Regine, especially Sully, who had taken a sudden leave of absence in the middle of the night and would not be missed.

Steve decided to keep the club, and that would be far more work than getting rid of it. Bucky was annoyed, but he wasn’t anyone’s boss. Rebirth and its holdings was a group project.

Despite all that he had to do, Steve could not stop thinking about you. There were numerous times that he caught himself daydreaming about being with you, but he did not allow himself to believe it could really happen.

It was an impossibility.

When he came in to Regine on Friday, you were sitting at the bar with your head in your hands. It was 2 pm and you were about an hour and a half early for work.

He was instantly concerned. He was about to crash out, knowing that he would never rest knowing that someone out there might have hurt you, or made you sad. He would either kill them or fix it.

But instead he took a deep breath.

“You okay, Peach?”

You looked up at him, those gorgeous eyes watery. You gave him a weak smile, and he just wanted to take you into his arms. He didn’t know you wanted the exact same thing.

“Yeah, Grant. I’m just great.”

You shook your head and then laid it down on the bar on your crossed arms.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He slid into the barstool next to you.

“Well, a lot of shit has happened in the last couple of days, but long story short, I left my work bag all the way in Kirkwood, and I’ll never get there and back on the bus in time. It will take all night.”

Steve was confused. He looked down at the bag on your lap.

“Is that not your bag? Why are you going on the bus?”

He had so many questions.

You took the bag in your hands and huffed, frustrated.

“Yes, this is my bag, but it’s my dance class bag with my day job clothes in it. I usually leave it in my car when I come in here. But my car is… in the shop…”

You started crying in earnest and jumped slightly when Grant put his hand on yours then relaxed. His touch distracted you, but you were still upset.

“How long will it take in a car? I can give you a ride.”

You looked up hopefully, then your face closed, wary.

“About 45 minutes, but I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. As a comrade.”

You looked up into his eyes again and sniffled.Grant was a nice guy. And you felt that you could trust him.

“I’d owe you big time.”

Steve smiled, making you feel warm inside.

“Give me five and we’ll be ready to go.”

He left to go talk to the other bartender and was back by your side in moments.

“Car is out here.”

Stepping into the cool November Atlanta night let you take a deep breath and clear your head, but now your nerves were ramping up for another reason as you walked next to Grant until you came to a red Audi RS7.

You peered up at him as he held the door open for you.

“Nice car for a bartender.”

Why did your voice come out all breathy like that?

Grant smiled down at you, making your stomach do that little flippy thing it had been doing the past few days when you thought of him.

“It’s a loaner. My car is in the shop, too.”

You nodded slowly and settled into the leather and wood interior thinking about your story. You looked over at him as he drove, the afternoon light from the road playing over the planes of his face, and marveled at his profile.

Those eyes, the cheekbones, the lips. He glanced over and caught you ogling him. Your cheeks heated and you smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just… can I tell you something?”

—--

Steve had been driving, keeping his eyes on the road and his hands on the steering wheel in order to get you to where you were going safely. Your scent in such close proximity was making his mouth water and his dick hard.

Thoughts of pulling over and dragging you over onto his lap were driving him crazy. He was lost in thought until the hair stood up on the back of his neck.

Glancing over, he saw you staring at him. Your flush and shy smile made him even harder.

Were you checking him out?

Did you want him too?

He raised his eyebrow at you, his heart beating double time at the thought.

But then you asked the question.

Can I tell you something?

You were basically asking if you could trust him. Shit.

You sighed, your breasts rising and falling with the filling of your lungs. He tried to keep his eyes on the road, but it was hard. He was hard.

“What do you need to tell me?”

“My car is not in the shop. It was repossessed.”

There. You said it. The truth was so freeing. You felt as if you could be yourself with Grant, not put up the thug front that you did with everyone else.

He looked over at you, switching quickly between you and the road until you hit a red light, his jaw ticked tight with some mysterious emotion.

Your stomach flipped when the heat of his full attention was on you.

“What?”

“Yeah. Happened the other day. Woke up and my car was gone. My neighbor said they saw it towed about 2 am.”

Steve's mind whirled, thinking of the financial information in your file.

“But I thought you—”

He stopped short, not wanting to give himself away. He did want to pull over so that he could see your face, but he knew that you were anxious to get back to the club.

“I mean… you seem to have it all together. Are you okay?”

His sentiment had you in your feelings.

“Yeah. I’m used to hustling. I’ve been juggling finances ever since I graduated college. Spelman is a great school, but it’s hella expensive. 30K a year after my scholarship. I owe close to 100K on student loans, and then there’s rent on the studio.”

You looked over at him, barreling ahead despite knowing that you were word vomiting all over him.

“I’m trying to start a dance school. It’s my dream. But it costs money. So I took out a title loan on my car, even though it was paid off.”

“Wow.”

Steve cleared his throat. Those predatory title loan places often didn’t legally record the loans, just charge outrageous interest and repossess at the first missed payment. That’s why it wasn’t in your file.

“What about your folks?”

“My parents died in a car accident my sophomore year at Spelman. No insurance. My family is aunts and uncles and cousins, and they help when I ask and if they can but…”

Your eyes glazed over as the car pulled to a stop light.

“I’m pretty much my own family.”

Steve looked into your eyes and wanted to belong to you. He looked down and took your hand. You took a shuddering breath as your stomach flipped.

“Grant…”

He frowned as you called his name.

“I’m not telling you this to ask for money. I just need a ride. Just wanted to be honest with you.”

Steve felt like a jerk. He wanted to tell you the truth.

“Peach…”

“I’m serious. If I have another night like I did Tuesday, I got it. I need three stacks to get the car back..”

The wheels were turning in Steve’s mind.

“Okay. You should easily earn what you need tonight.”

He’d make sure of it.

You relaxed and smiled at him, noticing that he still had your hand in his. He rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand and you shivered.

“Thank you for telling me, Peach.”

“Thank you for listening, Grant. And for not trying to rescue me. I really appreciate it. Not that you could. You probably don’t have over a hundred K just lying around…”

He threw you a look while driving, his expression unreadable.

“Anytime, Peach.”

His voice came out gruff. He cleared his throat.

“I do know of a private endowment in New York that might be able to help. It’s called the Rebirth Foundation. It’s an Arts organization. They have awards up to a million dollars a year. You could apply…”

“Hmmmm. How do you know about this endowment?”

“I’m from Brooklyn. It’s a thing up there.”

You smirked.

“I knew you had a funny accent, Been trying to place it.”

“I have a funny accent?”

“Asshole!”

You hit him on the shoulder. He chuckled.

“Anyway, I know a couple of people who’ve benefited from the endowment. Worth a shot.”

You were skeptical, but he was just trying to help.

“Okay, send me the information.”

“I’ll send it to you when we stop. Just put your number in my phone and I will text it to you.”

Grant handed his phone to you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was an elaborate scheme to get my digits.”

Steve laughed. He already had your number, but now he’d have an excuse.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Fuck you, Grant Stevens.”

He cleared his throat, thinking he’d allow you to fuck him. You riding him in the back of a town car as you drove around New York City was in his top three.

“Cool. You know, you don’t have to pretend to be angry. You can just ask to use my body...”

You scoffed.

“You know what? I think I hate you.”

“I think it’s the opposite, but you have a wall up.”

He was right. You didn’t hate him, you just hated how he read you right then.

“Grant–”

“Okay, we’re here...”

You stared at him until he raised his eyebrow at you. Then you lowered your eyes and chewed your bottom lip. Next thing you knew, his hand was on your chin pulling your lip from between your teeth, rubbing his thumb over your mouth. Your eyes went wide as saucers as you gasped for breath.

Steve dropped his hand rather than push his thumb into your mouth like he wanted to. He nodded at the studio.

“Do you want me to get your bag?”

His voice was gravelly with desire and you struggled with the ability to speak. You wanted this man.

Badly.

You were doomed, was the companion thought.

“No… no. Tameka is holding it for me. I’ll be right back…”

“Okay.”

Steve was holding the wheel in death grip and staring out of the window. He watched you go into the studio and thought of all the reasons why what he was happening was a bad idea. Women were a means to an end for him, occasional companionship, physical satisfaction.

No strings. Ever.

The ones he dealt with knew that very well.

Unfortunately, you had him tied up in all kinds of strings with knots at the moment.

—--

By the time you got back to the club, Steve sent you a fake website that Miles had constructed in 30 minutes. As soon as the application hit, more money than you needed would be headed your way.

He just needed you to actually apply.

The night went by painfully slowly. Grant insisted that he give you a ride home after work and you agreed, causing some weird anticipation anxiety thing that was, for you, only alleviated on the stage. You zoned out and earned the most tips you ever had, partly because he was your inspiration.

Customers were making it rain. You felt Grant’s eyes on you all night and the more you danced for him, the more money came your way. The tension between you was only building, and you both knew that him driving you home would be the climax. In more ways than one.

After work, at three am Saturday morning, with over $2K in your bag, Steve drove you to your place. This time, both of you were silent, and both your eyes were on the road. It was like time and all coherent thought were suspended.

When the car pulled up in front of your apartment, you turned to him.

“Want to come in?”

It was a simple question, and one that would make Steve’s life infinitely more complicated if he took you up on it.

Yet he didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

—

As soon as he stepped behind you at your door, the raw animal in Steve was activated. He crowded you, standing much closer than necessary, breathing on your neck and making you shiver as you unlocked the door. But you didn’t mind. No. Not at all.

He was overwhelming this close, but in a good way. His scent, his warmth, his power. You wanted all of that. All over you.

When you got inside, you turned around in the entryway and he.

Was. Right. There.

You looked up at him under your eyelashes as he stared at you, nostrils flaring and jaw ticking with restraint.

Damn him, it should be illegal for him to look that fucking good.

“I’m just itching to kiss you Peach. Can I? Want to so bad.”

His blue eyes roamed your face, then down your body in a possessive glare.

God, it made your nipples tight and panties wet.

“Please…”

The way he begged for you broke any resolve that you may have had. You reached for him, grabbed the white tee shirt that was underneath his flannel and pulled him close to you.

His jaw relaxed as his mouth slanted in a side smile as your arms reached up and wound around his neck, fingers tangling in the long, thick hair spilling over his collar and pulled him down as your lips connected.

The kiss was tentative: slow sweeps of lips over lips, and shy reaches of tongue to tongue. Then, the urgency increased with nips and licks and sucks of thick lips on lips with tongue and teeth. Moans and gasps and whimpers spilled out between you.

Grant raised both hands to palm your head as he tenderly pulled himself away from your lips and rested his forehead on yours.

“That was…”

His thumb swept the moisture from your lips and this time you captured it between them, sucking it while looking him in the eye. Steve’s cock throbbed even harder.

“Fuck. I want you…”

Your eyes looked down to see the bulge in his jeans, up to the clench in his jaw and that goddamn pretty face of his, and you bit your lip, causing him to groan.

You reached down and palmed his hard on as he pumped his thumb in and out of your mouth. He pulled his finger out, groaning as he watched your lips and you whimpered, causing him to silence you with another kiss.

His hand drifted down your body, exploring until his long fingers reached inside your sweats to find your panties drenched and sticking to the wet folds of your pussy.

“Fucking soaked, Peach. I-I need this. Need to feel this. N-need to eat this…”

Grant’s raspy baritone and the stutter made your head fall back against the wall as your pussy clenched. His brilliant blue eyes found yours when he felt it. He kissed the side of your mouth and you chased his lips, a fiend for him.

His tongue invaded your mouth again just as his thick fingers pulled your panties to the side and parted you, the calluses on his fingertips feeling just a little like heaven against your wet, sensitive skin.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear.

“You’re so wet, and soft, Peach. See? I can slide through these fat pussy lips so easy.”

He was skating, rubbing between your folds along your slit, teasing your entrance and your clit.

Your hands were yanking his shirt free of his jeans so your hands could feel his thick, hard abs, and your nails could scratch his skin. Grant shuddered under your touch.

Steve felt like it was his first time touching a girl, the way his heart was fluttering in his chest. As he felt your perfect little body, he realized that he was aiding in the ruin of himself for anyone else.

He collected your wetness and proceeded to pull his fingers out and push them into his mouth, making you watch as he suckled them, his eyes rolling back in his head. He concentrated to regain thought as he slipped his fingers back in and pinched your clit, then plunged up and down the split of you, finally breaching your entrance.

Your legs were shaking and your thighs clamped around his hand. You held on to his shoulders as you rolled your hips into the thrusts of his fingers. He was full-out fucking you now, kissing you in rhythm with the thrusts of his fingers.

“So fucking tight, Peach. Tightest fucking pussy I’ve ever felt.”

Your body bowed into him at his filthy words and he watched your face with rapt attention. You’d given him the key to you. His words.

His fingers pushed deeper inside you and curled, making you moan and quiver.

“That’s right, Peach. Take my fingers like a good little girl.”

He whispered it calmly against your ear, not betraying how feral he was on the inside.

You pressed your lips together as you clenched down at his words.

“You’re so sweet. So cute. So desperate.”

His fingers reached that bundle of nerves, causing your brain to short circuit.

“Needy.”

Grant licked your neck as he dragged his long fingers in and out of your sodden, dripping cunt. You tried to stifle another moan as he curled his fingers inside you.

“What I need is to hear you, Peach. Been dreaming of you screaming for me for the past three nights.”

“Please!”

You were practically sobbing now, a result of the skill with which Grant was playing your body. His neck was craned as he marked your neck, and he was searching your skin underneath your shirt with his free hand.

“You're so beautiful Peach, and wet for me. So warm and snug.”

He leaned over again to suckle on your pulse point and then whisper into your ear.

“But you’re gonna struggle to take my long thick cock in this tight little cunt.”

“Fuckkkkkk!”

You erupted into a mind-blowing orgasm, shuddering between Grant and the wall, holding on to him for dear life as your knees gave out. He held you up, gingerly removing his fingers from around you and hugging you to him, his heart gone from his body and now in your possession.

He never wanted to let you go.

But then you spoke again.

“No one has ever…”

You giggled and looked up into his impossible blue eyes. He smiled down at you. For a split second, you were the happiest you’d ever been.

“No one had ever done that to me as effectively as you, Grant Stevens.��

Steve’s smile fell.

He felt the power of his betrayal in advance of you finding out who he really was.

Not only had he lied to you, he wasn’t good enough to be around you, let alone touch you.

He looked down to see that you were steady on your feet now, and straightened your clothes for you. He felt terrible, knowing what you expected to happen next, if nothing more than intimacy with someone who was honest with you.

He kissed your forehead, then your lips again, chaste this time.

“I’m so sorry, Peach. We can’t do this.”

“What?”

He kissed your forehead again and left your apartment, leaving you standing there wondering what just happened.

—-

When you went to work that night, they said Grant quit. The number you had for him was disconnected. He’d vanished into thin air.

You were a thug, so you powered through the night but you spent all day Sunday in bed wondering what you did wrong. And what he was really about.

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, you were grateful to go to Hilton Head and get away with your family. You heard about your cousin’s big adventures in the City with her Mr. Big and crew.

You teased her relentlessly for being a simp, and continued to swear that you were a thug. You were a complete comedian, putting on a show for your family until the moment the man you knew as Grant Stevens stepped into your Aunt and Uncle’s home.

Except his name wasn’t Grant Stevens.

It was Steve Rogers.

And you were a fool.

——-

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gaysindistress · 2 years ago

Text

When Night Comes - ten

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: mob!Bucky, cursing, major character death mentions

word count: 2.3k

nine | masterlist

Tag list: @vickie5446 @cakesandtom @thebuckybarnesvault @buckybarnessimpp @hidden-treasures21 @unaxv @thebuckybarnesvault @elizacusi-blog @mal-adaptive-dreams @vonalyn

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

Wyatt, the sweet boy, is playing with her mother’s hand when the car pulls up to the jet. Peggy slides her phone into her pocket as Steve puts it in park and rushes to engulf them in a hug. Too close of a call is how he might describe the events at Sunny’s apartment. When Sunny gets out, Wyatt wiggles out of his parent’s arms and tackles her with the strongest hug he can muster.

“Ms. Sunny, Mommy said you were coming with us on a trip!” She forces a smile when she confirms, “It’s going to be so much fun, bubby.”

Bucky walks behind her and gently grabs ahold of her arm to walk her toward the jet. For the sake of Wyatt, she doesn’t try to pull her arm away and lets him guide her. The boy runs back to his parents and they all climb the stairs to the jet. Yelena is the last one to board with a redhead woman in tow. They’re talking to each other in hushed tones and grow even quieter when they see that Sunny is watching them through hooded eyes.

Bucky leads her to the seat towards the back and sits next to her. Yelena and the other woman sit across from them while the Rogers take their seats in front. Wyatt tries to get a look at all of them but is quickly buckled up by his mother.

“Any word on Alix’s whereabouts?” Bucky asks the two women.

The redhead speaks, “She got into a car with Juliette and head east but after four miles, we lose sight of them. All of their known hideouts within a 20-mile radius are clear but Wanda and Peter are still searching.”

“And Jessica?”

She grimaces at the name, “DOA.”

Sunny chokes and covers her mouth so that the sobs are muffled. Wyatt asks Peggy why she’s crying but she quiets hum. Yelena gives her a sad look and goes to offer her hand which the redhead blocks with a shake of her head. Bucky is closest to her and therefore should be the one to comfort her. He takes her free hand in his and gives it a light squeeze. Rather than dropping it like he expected, Sunny grips it back and turns to face the window.

Her brother laying dead in her arms flashes across her mind and she snaps her eyes shut to will away the painful memories but it doesn’t work. The sirens and EMT chatter fill her senses as she processes that her best friend was not only working with her ex but is now dead. Sunny didn’t even get a chance to come to terms with the betrayal but it doesn’t matter because Jessica’s gone now. The one constant in her life since leaving California no matter how fake it was, is gone now and she’s left with a team of supernatural creatures to protect her. Any shred of hope for normalcy is gone now and the lack of warmth in Bucky’s hand is too harsh of a reminder of that but she can’t let it go. Even if he is the last person she would want to support her, he’s all she has now.

“Yelena,” the redhead, Natasha, says to Yelena, and jerks her head to the side, “Let’s give them space.”

She agrees and they move to join the Rogers. The jet begins its take-off sequence and Sunny continues to grip Bucky’s hand while watching her life disappear once again.

Fresno to New York and now to Bucharest.

Tall grand buildings line the narrow roadways and echo the history that the city has seen. The moon shrouds the city in an ominous light as a few people scurry to get inside before midnight. Only a brave handful wait for the old black car slowly cruising down the cobblestone road and whisper amongst themselves. As the years have passed fewer and fewer people know who this car belongs to but the elders are still painfully aware of its owners. When the driver makes eye contact with the brave onlookers, they give a brief nod and rush inside.

Sunny had yet to speak and refused to look away from the window to watch the city around her. She’s not holding Bucky’s hand anymore but is practically glued to his side. He, Yelena, Natasha, and Steve are all speaking to each other in another language, no doubt talking about Alix and her whereabouts.

“Unde naiba ar fi putut să plece?” Where the fuck could she have gone? Bucky says in a low tone, gripping his hands together tightly to calm himself.

“Crezi că știe unde suntem?” Do you think she knows where we’re at? Natasha offers up.

Peggy twitches at the thought and shudders but not for the same reason as the others.

“Cum a putut?” How could she?

“You can speak in English. I already know what you’re talking about,” Sunny mumbles still facing the window.

Bucky glances over at her before switching back, “Are you sure? I don’t want to upset you.”

“It’s not like I can’t figure it out from your tones.”

“I think we’re done talking anyways,” Natasha says, pulling out her phone and typing away.

Bucky shoots her a harsh look, “We can’t find Alix but we’re safe here. Lycan is banned from Romania so it would be a death sentence if she even tried to come here.”

“As if that’s stopped her before,” Sunny says in her normal tone now turning to look at Bucky, “you said I would be safe in New York but Jessica is dead and I’m in Europe against my will. Can you call that being safe?”

“I didn’t kidnap you.”

“That’s what you focus on? Me accusing you of kidnapping me?”

“Well, I didn't so.”

“Be so fucking for real right now.”

He gives her a blank unamused stare in place of words.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes which causes him to do the exact same. The tension grows thick and the only person immune is Wyatt who is fast asleep on his mom’s lap with his head resting on her shoulder. Steve looks back at Bucky to judge his emotional state but the blank look he has pulled across his face gives no indication of what he is feeling. The only thing Steve can gather is that he’s not pissed off enough to lose his cool but that point is coming very quickly.

“Do me a favor and leave me alone from now on. I’m sick of your shit,” Sunny tells the man who’s been plaguing her every thought for months now. She wants in reality; she wants him in her life and to act like how did at the kickback turned party but she also knows that Bucky is a ghost now. The flirty and carefree Bucky she started to fall for disappeared almost as quickly as he appeared, a thought that tugged at her heart and threatens her emotional state.

“Fine by me,” he agrees with a level of childishness that makes her want to scoff even more. The large, imposing man is not immune to the pettiness that everyone craves to act on.

Wyatt makes a small noise akin to a whimper and everyone jumps into protective mode. Peggy shushes him and gently rocks him back to sleep, easing everyone in the car’s worries. Sunny crosses her arms over her chest and looks back to the landscape outside. She might have once been excited to visit Europe but not in this context with these people. A bittersweet memory this will be.

Peggy quickly puts Wyatt in a bed and checks that he is still asleep as she dials Alix’s number. She gives the room a once over before talking to a very angry Alix.

“Margaret tell me what’s going on?”

Peggy nervously looks over at her sleeping son, “I’m done. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“No no, you don’t get to do this to me. Don’t back out now. Remember you wanted this. You FOUND me and asked for my help.”

“You didn’t tell me about Y/N so I think our deal should be called off. You withheld information from me.”

“Says the one who asked me to kill your husband’s best friend. How do you think Steve would feel if he found out?”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Really? I think I would,” there’s a pause, “Did you get that witch to hex his gun?”

“Yes but…” “But nothing. Get him to shoot it and follow through with the plan like a good little bitch. It shouldn’t be that hard, he’s a mob boss anyways.”

There’s a click and the dial tone replaces Alix’s voice. Peggy wants to scream and shatter her phone but the sleeping child only feet from her stops her. Instead, she sinks to sit next to him and lays behind him. Cuddling her son, she starts to cry. The years of unhappiness take over and she lets all of her tears flow. She had met Steve in the 40s when she was visiting New York after she graduated high school. Immediately enthralled with his sweet smile and gentle ways, she spent those three weeks running around the city with him. He showed her everything she’d wanted; freedom and unconditional love but it came with a cost. She would have to leave her life behind and join him and Bucky in their business. At the time, she had been blinded by the winds of her first loved and agreed before fully understanding what his conditions meant for her. Peggy refused to go back to England and married Steve the day she was supposed to leave. He swept her off of her feet and brought her to the house they are in now, the Bucharest estate. Then is when she learned the full story of who Steve was and who Bucky was for that matter. She had been horrified and rightfully so. Steve hadn’t told her about their illegal business or their true nature and it came as a massive shock to her system. The only person who provided comfort was Bucky’s wife, Celeste.

Celeste had been with them since they turned 100 years prior. She had been a vision of heaven and a spitting image of Y/N. The two women were identical down to their smile and laugh. Celeste told Peggy stories of how she fought Bucky for years before finally agreeing to marry him when their love began to blossom. When it came time for Peggy’s turning, Celeste had been right by her side the entire time and walked her through every step of the way. The day Bucky found her body in the river nearby in New York, his screams of agony could be heard for miles. A rival mob had gotten to her and done unspeakable things to her. Peggy felt like it was her fault because the two women had vowed to each other that they would protect each other when their husbands were gone. She had failed Celeste, something Bucky never forgave her for, and ever since, he had given her the cold shoulder. Peggy couldn't take it anymore and turned to the very mob that had taken Celeste to now take out Bucky.

It had been Alix’s great-grandparents who had murdered Celeste so it only seemed fitting that she be the one now to end Bucky’s life. The emergence of Y/N had complicated things seeing as how much he had changed since meeting her but the plan was too far gone and she couldn’t stop it.

Peggy had already hammered the final nail in Bucky’s coffin with no way to open it.

The only remaining picture of his bride had been locked away in his room shortly after she’d died. In his grief, he had all of her pictures and belongings put into her study, permanently locking away any memory of her. One small portrait from their wedding day remained on his bedside table and he all but refused to look at it. Only Steve and Peggy knew of her and what she looked like however that didn’t stop him from pursuing Sunny. Bucky knew it was wrong; chasing after a lookalike in hopes that she would match his Celeste. Imagine his surprise and joy when Sunny did mirror her in every way down to how she pushed him away at first.

Trying to replicate what they had would not end well for him but he had been assured by witches that Celeste would return to him and here she was. Bucky watches the doppelganger… Sunny walked down the halls of their home, head moving quickly back and forth to take in all that she must have missed. It had been just shy of 80 years since she had been home and he could only imagine the yearning her heart must have been feeling. His heart has ached nonstop since her death and now that she stood only feet from him, it began to slow to a dull throb. Sunny did not love him in the way Celeste had but she would or at least that’s the hope he clung to after all these years. It’s the only option and he would do anything to ensure that she found that love he knew she had for him.

I love you. Always and forever.

That had been their promise to each other. Sunny would learn that phrase too and soon would echo it back when he held her at night.

Just not right now.

So with a heavy heart, Bucky seals away her feelings and hopes she has the chance to find her way to him. She had to do it on her own without his influence or it wouldn't be true as the witch told him. Sunny’s hand itch to touch the paintings that line the walls and she looks over her shoulder at him in amazement. It crushes him to see the same look that she had when they picked out those paintings but nonetheless, he offers her a half smile and turns his attention anywhere else.

Always and forever needed to come sooner.

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