#Mob! Sam

[pratchettquotes]

Rumor is information distilled so finely that it can filter through anything. It does not need doors and windows--sometimes it doesn't even need people. It can exist free and wild, running from ear to ear without ever touching lips.

It had escaped already. From the high window of the Patrician's bedroom, Sam Vimes could see people drifting towards the palace. There wasn't a mob--there wasn't even what you might call a crowd--but the Brownian motion of the streets was bouncing more and more people in his direction.

Terry Pratchett, Feet of Clay

[lightningonatether]

awesamdrittens. dont worry too hard about how those happened

[wandagcre]

Thinking about how Mob Moss!Sam would react if the reader asked for a divorce

"I want a divorce," your voice cracks, unwilling to look at sam's reaction.

it's more than enough to mob!boss sam's attention over you. whatever she was doing — consider it done and unfinished. she takes a good look at you, her brown eyes piercing on you, never blinking. it's hard to swallow all of the sudden with the thick tension you created.

all you can do is thank that you knew better; to not bring it up while sam was cutting up vegetables in the kitchen or while she was downstairs, throwing punches on the punching bag. you knew she wouldn't hurt you, but the aggressiveness scares you.

if it was a prank:

"is this some kind of joke? i know you have a knack for childish stunts, but that's a really, really, bad one mi amor," sam runs her fingers through her hair. she has a tight smile on, but you could tell its insincerity, a product of her rare nervousness.

you can't take it any longer with your joke. you can't even imagine a life without sam in it — how the woman would completely lose her mind.

"o-of course it is," you let out the breathe you've been holding. your figure relaxes a little, immediately regret ran through your body for pulling this prank. "can't help it. i wanted to see what your reaction would be."

meanwhile, sam was relieved too. she didn't want to be rough with you in a cruel way. you didn't know the scenarios that ran through her mind, all just to keep you. she continues to dress for the day, simply humming in response.

"don't do that again. next time, formulate it in a question, not in a statement." sam coldly looks at you pointedly through the mirror's reflection, internally scoffing at your kicked puppy look.

you easily nod in agreement. "understood."

if it was a genuine proposal:

your lips quiver, "no. it isn't. i'm completely serious about this, sam."

sam remained looking neutral. she continues to button her dress shirt and the silence was eerie. it put you in immediate discomfort, even analyzing her features was futile — no slight twitching, no smile, no nothing. it was like business mode for her. you knew it, so familiar with her gatherings within her inner circle at one of her estates.

then, all of the sudden she scoffs and laughs softly. uncanny for the statement you just uttered. now it had you looking over sam, albeit with reasonable fear.

she sauntered over your way, creasing her ironed trousers as she kneels before you and holding your hand.

"i'd like to see you try, (y/n)." sam grinned, as though it was a challenge. "you... are not only a valuable asset, amor, but you're an extension of what makes me. it wasn't a choice whether you married me on paper or not, you're bound to me—for me—either way." sam chuckled, her palm softly patting on your cheek.

you're frozen and taken aback by her words.

perhaps you should have known that sam would do everything just to keep you in the same place as she were. the illusion of letting you escape is hilarious enough for her.

[snazzydwarf]

I'm so normal about Everlasting Trio-

Based on the HC of Danny being a beacon for animals that are related/symbolise death or bad luck.

[themorningsunshine]

Brownies

Pie eyed over you : Chapter 2 

Mafia - Baker AU

Masterlist                        Series Masterlist

Previous Part

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader

Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.

Warnings - Nothing in this one

Word count - 3.9k

a/n - And here is the second part to the Pie-eyed over you series. I am SO grateful for the love all of you have shown to the first part and I am really excited for you guys to read this. This will (hopefully) not be a very long series but I haven’t decided on how I want it to go so updates might be slow. Please bare with me.Also, let me know what you guys want to see in this story :)

He looks around once before stepping out of the car.

The area is as lively as the last time he had seen it.

Not a lot of changes in 5 days, Bucky 

He can see the bakery from where his car is parked.

He didn't have a reason to be here. For some reason, he hadn't demanded the money last time he was here and he was pretty sure it won't change this time either.

But there was something about this bakery.

It's the cakes. He tells himself, but his suddenly quickening heart tells a different story.

He walks towards the bakery and sees you standing behind the counter, with a small smile on your face, which seems like your default setting, looking at the registers. And just like last time, Bucky's steps falter for a moment before he takes a deep breath as if his lungs had suddenly been deprived of air before walking again.

As he opens the door, the bells above his head jingle and notify you of a new customer.

.

When you look up from the register, your smile grows and turns into a slightly teasing one as you look at the man standing in front of you. You were relieved. Was it okay that you kinda hoped he would come back?

As he walked towards the counter, you spoke up, "Can I say, 'I told you so'?"

Bucky rolled his eyes but couldn't help the way his lips were turning slightly upwards. "Come on, sweets. We both know you wanted me to come back."

Your breath hitches in your throat at both the nickname and the comment. You clear your throat, willing yourself to speak, "Of course I did. It's good for business, you know." You tried to sound composed but the smile on your face gave it away.

Bucky chuckled as he took the seat beside the counter and looked at the case full of sweets in front of him. It was still the early hours of the day and there weren't a lot of people in the bakery, except for a couple sitting in the corner and a teenage girl sipping coffee while working on her laptop.

"So, what do you want today?"

You. Bucky's eyes widened as a voice from inside him replied almost instantly and he had to look up to make sure he hadn't said it out loud. What the hell was happening to him? He clears his throat and replies, "Surprise me"

You smile at him before bending to pick up a couple of brownies from the case putting them on a plate and passing them to him. "Just made them. Try and tell me how they are." There was a glint in your eyes and Bucky knew that he could never not like anything you made.

He picked up a brownie and took a bite. As it melted into his mouth, a perfectly sweet taste filling his senses, he closed his eyes and moaned.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and clenched your thighs together at his reaction. "Sweets, this is the best damn thing I've ever had."

You chuckled as red color crept up to your neck at the praise. "Glad you liked it, James."

"Liked it? I love it, sweets." He spoke before taking another bite from the brownie.

You stood there for a moment, just looking at him. There was something about him. A rough exterior, covered in dark clothes from top to bottom, but there were moments like these where you saw just how soft he was beneath all that and for some reason, you just couldn't take your eyes off the man who was eating your brownie as if a second without them would kill him.

The sound of the bells jingling at the door brought you out of your daze. You looked at him once more before walking towards the other end of the counter to the middle-aged woman who had just walked in.

When Bucky finished one of his brownies and forced himself to not instantly reach for the other one, he looked around. The bakery wasn't that large. A small, cozy place with a few decorations. Filled with the smell of freshly baked cookies and cakes, it was warm and inviting. It was so you.

Bucky's eyes landed on a shelf beside the counter and his feet brought him to it before his mind could catch up. It was a small shelf but lined with books.

The books looked old as if they had been read over and over again but well kept. Cherished. He brought his flesh hand to one of the books and slowly picked it up.         To kill a mockingbird

He stared at the cover for a moment, before walking back to his seat, with the book in hand.

As he opened the book to the first chapter, the words brought him to a time long gone. An easier time.

He used to read a lot, as much as he could anyways. He liked books. They were an escape. The stories made him forget about the struggles of his own life.

But that was a habit long gone. Another thing he loved that was lost to time.

He starts reading it before he knows what he is doing and instinctively reaches for the brownie on the plate, taking a bite.

You look up from the cash drawer, eyes drifting to the man who has been occupying your thoughts more than you would like to admit.

He is engrossed in a book and his furrowed brows as he focuses on the book and the soft look in his eyes as he skims through the pages has your heart fluttering. You notice the brownies on his plate are almost gone now and trying your best as to not disturb him, you place another two on the plate and watch as he reaches into the plate without looking away from his book and takes a bite. You smile to yourself before getting back to the kitchen to prepare an order of cupcakes.

＊*•̩̩

Bucky looks up as he feels eyes staring at him, only to be met by your y/e/c ones.

"Finally, and I thought you will finish the whole book in one go." You said, letting out a chuckle.

Bucky narrows his eyes. Sure, the page he was on and the feel of the chair proved that he had been there for long, but it couldn't have been that long, right? "How long has it been?"

You smile at him before tilting your head towards the little clock adorning the walls and Bucky's eyes widen. It had been 2 hours. What the hell had happened to his sense of time?

He hadn't felt this at peace in ... a very long time. He looked down at his plate which still had a small piece of a brownie left and he could swear he could still taste it in his mouth. How many had he really eaten?

Your voice brought him out of his thoughts. "So.." You kept your head on your fist and leaned on the table with a teasing smile on your face and it was becoming difficult for him to focus on the outside world. "And this is a wild guess. Like, completely random. You like reading?"

He let out a chuckle before thinking about your question. "I used to." 

"What happened?" You ask with genuine curiosity. He looks at you and realizes that you're not asking just for the sake of it. You want to know. You want to know him.

"Life. Life happened." He replies, only because he can't get himself to lie to you.

"Come on, James. If we are not able to find time for the things we love, are we really living?"

He looks at you as if pondering over your words. It wasn't that easy.

"I know what you should do." You stood before taking the book away from him, dog-earing the page before sliding it back towards him. "Here, take this book with you."

When he narrowed his eyes, you continue, "Take it with you and read it. When you're done, come back and return it to me." You explain as if it was the simplest thing in the world. As if giving him one of your favorite books that you had cherished for so long wasn't a big deal at all.

Bucky shook his head. "Nope, no, sweets. I am not taking it."

"Come on. You don't leave a book in the middle if you like it. It's a crime."

"Then I'll just buy it from the bookshop. This is yours." He said before sliding the book back towards you.

"We both know you won't do that. Come on, James. Just take it."

He picked up the book and slid it into his metal hand, knowing that there was no use in arguing with you but said with a smirk. "Careful there, sweets. Or I'll think you're giving me this book because you want me to come back."

As if on cue, the bell of the entrance dings notifying you of a customer. So, you turn back to look at him for the last time before saying, "Maybe I do."

And Bucky really hopes it's true.

*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*

He comes back a week later.

And the week after that.

He comes to the bakery every week until it becomes a routine. A part of him. A part engraved in his life as if it had always been there. It's simple.

He would come to the bakery, the book you gave to him last week tugged under his arms. Sometimes he would be finished with it, other times, he would just promise to return it the next week. You didn't mind. Not till he kept showing up.

He would sit beside the counter, ordering whatever it was you recommended. When you asked him how it was, he would always reply with 'The best damn thing I've ever had.' and he could swear to god he meant it every single time.

The both of you would talk, as much as you could anyways and Bucky found that being around you was the simplest part of his whole week, and the most precious too. It was his little escape. A time when he didn't care what was happening. About the people working for him or the people behind his life, he couldn't care less. All that mattered was that he was there, in the middle of a little bakery, eating sweets and talking to the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

You didn't mind either. Somehow, every single time the bell of the entrance jingled, you silently hoped it was the same beautiful blue eyes that you just couldn't take your mind off.

The only trouble was, it is really easy to get distracted from running a bakery all alone when you have a guy like him sitting there, carefree and yet intimidating as if he owned the place. It was very distracting.

And one day, you let him know exactly that. It had been a month since he had shown up at the bakery for the first time. A book on the table and a plate of cookies, talking to you as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

You walked back from the cash register after handling a customer before speaking up, "You know, I have a bakery to run, James, and you are pretty much the most distracting person here." Even though your words were borderline harsh, you let him know through your teasing tone that you were just kidding. Him stopping to come to the bakery was the last thing you wanted.

"Aww, come on, sweets. We both know I am your favorite customer." He replied with a smug look on his face and you didn't know if you wanted to slap it from his face or kiss it. Definitely the latter.

"You wish, James."

.

As if on cue, the bell of the door jingles, and Bucky looks that way to see a young pregnant lady with a blond man standing at the door.

He looks back at you to find you grinning from ear to ear and watches as you practically run from behind the counter towards them and engulf the woman in a big hug, angling yourself so as to not hurt the evident bump.

When you do the same with the blonde man, the air surrounding Bucky suddenly thickens and he realizes he isn't going to like this man much. But it was just because he is blonde. Bucky has never liked blonde guys.

You say something to the both of them before bringing them inside towards a table near to where Bucky is sitting and helping the pregnant lady on a chair. You still have the widest grin on your face when you turn toward him.

"James, this is my best friend, Wanda, and her elder brother, Pietro." You said before pointing towards them.

"He is literally elder than me by 13 minutes." The brunette points at you accusingly as you snicker.

"Still older." The blonde replies with an accent just like his sister.

"Guys, this is James." You point toward him and Bucky watches as something flashes through Wanda's eyes and her lips turn into a teasing smirk.

"So, he is THE James Barnes." She brought her hand towards him to shake before continuing, "She has told me so much about you."

At this, Bucky turns towards you with a smirk on his face and raised brows and watches as your cheeks turn red. Just then, the oven dings and you thank heavens for the distraction, "That's my cue."

You turn back and walk towards the kitchen with hurried steps as Bucky's eyes follow your form, just like they always do. When you disappear into the kitchen and he finally takes his eyes off and turns back, he finds Wanda looking at him with narrowed eyes and a smirk as if she could read his mind.

Bucky cleared his throat, "So, how do you know y/n?"

"We met years ago when she came to visit here as a kid. Have been friends since."

Bucky shook his head but clenched his jaw when she still didn't remove her accusing stare from him.

Pietro, sensing the slight tension between them, tried breaking the silence, but Wanda cut him off, "Where have I seen you before?"

Bucky's breath hitched in his throat. You still didn't know who he was and if it was up to him, he would keep it like that for as long as he could. You looked at him as if he was human as if his hands weren't covered in blood as if you weren't scared of him and he would do everything he could to keep it that way.

"I don't know. You must be mistaken." He took a breath to calm himself down. He couldn't intimidate this woman the way he did with his people. He wouldn't give her a reason to doubt him. She clearly meant a lot to you.

As Wanda opened her mouth to speak, you came back from the kitchen, interrupting the conversation.

You looked towards Pietro before speaking, "The boxes are in the back, and please be careful this time."

Pietro brought his hand to his chest as if your words had somehow hurt him. "You hurt my feelings, y/n. When am I not careful?"

You brought your finger to your chin in mock thinking before replying, "Let me think. Off the top of my head, maybe whenever you drive your bike way past the speed limit. I swear to god, Pietro, one day, your speed will ruin all my sweets."

"Ouch, you care about your sweets more than me?" He said as if your words had physically hurt him this time.

This time, Wanda replied, "Pietro, my dear brother, even I care about her sweets more than you."

The both of you chuckled as Pietro huffed and stomped off towards the back.

You looked at James before explaining, "He does the deliveries for me, as a favor. Believe it or not, it's difficult to deliver stuff in a town you know nothing about."

Bucky lightly chuckled before replying, "Tell me about it."

He then looked at Wanda once again and saw that she was staring at him with the same glare from before, but thankfully, you didn't notice.

He knew he had to leave soon. He wouldn't give her enough time to put the pieces together. "Sweets, I should go."

"You, sure? You could stay. I am sure Wanda wouldn't mind."

"No, I know. But I will leave you to it. Bye, sweets. Bye, Wanda." He turned towards the door quickly as if he couldn't get out of there sooner.

"James, wait." You called out to him and he stopped midstep. He will never get tired of how his name sounded on your lips. "Here. You forgot this." You handed him the book he had been reading for the past week and look up at him with a smile on your face.

Yeah, he definitely didn't want you to find out.

As he walked out of the bakery, you turned back towards Wanda, the smile etched on your lips and a soft look in your eyes. "So....." Wanda started in a teasing tone.

"Don't say it. Don't say it."

"He is hot."

You rolled your eyes at her. "What would Vision think, Wan?"

"You know what I mean."

You bit your lips before looking at her. "It's nothing like that. We are friends. Or at least I hope we are."

"Yeah, because going around calling people sweets is the new thing men do."

You plopped yourself on the chair opposite to her before burying your face into your hands. "It's just a nickname that stuck."

Who were you lying to? You couldn't hide from your oldest friend the fact that every part of you knew that him calling you sweets was the best sound in the whole world. She brought her hands to yours and removed them from your face and you looked up to be met by her serious gaze. "Just be careful, y/n. Something about him just doesn't seem right."

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙

The corridors of this building always seemed darker when he came back from the bakery. He already missed how warm and inviting it was. The book tugged under his arm the only reminder that he had been there.

He heard some voices coming from his office and as he walked closer, he recognized the voices instantly.

He opened the door to his office, only to find Steve and Sam standing in the middle of the room.

"You're finally here." Sam almost exclaimed with relief as his eyes landed on Bucky. "What, couldn't handle this place for a few hours without me, Wilson?" He looked at him teasingly.

"Shut it. Stark called, asking about you. I had to make some half-ass excuse to him. But I am pretty sure he knew I was lying. That man is too smart, I am telling you." "Don't worry about it. I'll give him a call. Will schedule a meeting with him."

Sam crossed his arms across his chest. "What, you're not even gonna tell us where you were?"

Choosing to ignore his question, Bucky walked and sat on the couch. "How's Carl? Alive?" He asked as if he couldn't care less about the answer.

"He is still in there. Breathing." Steve replied before contemplating his next words. "Buck, do you think you were maybe a little too harsh on him? A week in the dungeon filled with our enemies is not really a vacation."

"He got what he deserved, Steve. We can't go easy on them."

Sam looked at Bucky with an accusing gaze before speaking up again. "So I lie to Tony Stark and handle all the chaos in here for the whole day and you just conveniently ignore my question of where you were."

Steve gave Bucky a once-over before smirking. "Let it go, Sam. Bucky has got a lot on his hands."

Bucky narrowed his eyes at Steve before looking down, only to find crumbs of cookies still sticking to his hands.

He not-so-subtly rubbed his palms on his trousers before looking up and ushering the both of them outside the room with a lame excuse.

.

He placed the book he had brought with him on his table and opened it, only to find something in the middle of two pages. He opened it to find a small flower kept gently between two pages. A little pressed, but fresh, telling him that you had sneaked it in between today.

He picked up the flower, oblivious to the smile on his face when his eyes landed on a small note sticking to it. In swift handwriting, it read                                                To my favorite customer

Bucky couldn't help the way his heartbeat quickened or how he just couldn't remove the smile from his face. But he couldn't care less.

He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard knocks on the door to his office. Tucking the flower and the note inside the book, he turned towards the door and called out for the person to enter.

When the door opened, his eyes landed on one of his men. "Walker, what do you want?"

"Sir," He said bowing his head a little to him. Bucky never really liked John Walker. He always tried to show himself to be more than what he actually was. But he got the work done and he hadn't given him a reason to not trust him.

"Sir, I checked the collections for this month and I noticed something."

Bucky nodded his head, not really paying attention to whatever he had to say.

"The new Bakery." Bucky's eyes shot up and he tried his best as to not look too interested. "That baker hasn't paid this month too, sir and we can't ignore this. She is trying to rebel. Has no idea what she is trying to go against."

Bucky didn't like where this conversation was going. "It's okay. It doesn't matter. It's just a bakery."

Walker narrowed his eyes at him. When had the most ruthless mafia boss gone so... soft? But maybe he just didn't care for some stupid baker.

"Sir, this sets a wrong example. People will try to imitate her and that is never a good sign."

Bucky was growing impatient now, This isn't how it was supposed to go. "Just let it go, Walker."

"It's okay, sir. I understand that you don't want to get your hands dirty. Please let me handle this. I promise I wouldn't disappoint."

Bucky should have ordered him to not do anything. Should have just given him some other thing to do. But he didn't want to gain suspicions. He couldn't show that he cared about anything. It would always go against him.

He knew this wasn't going to end well, but he nodded his head at Walker. There was no way in hell he would hurt you or anyone without his permission but it didn't mean he was letting Walker anywhere near you without him around.

But among all this, one question lingered in his mind.

Why did he care so much?

Next part 

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[rebelwithoutabroom]

seeing all the discussion abt the gituation and how their friends behaved, i think one of the things that bothers me most about it is how the falling out is so public but the making amends is so private. if someone had the "courage" to be vocal about it on twt or on stream, they should do the same when theyve changed their mind. it feels unfair and fucking spineless to do otherwise

[ramp-it-up]

All I Want

Paring: Mob Boss! Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 3.4 K

Summary: Steve has left you alone for a week with no explanation. Will you let him back into your life?

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, Lil bit of ANGST. A lot of FLUFF Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. A slap on the face, organized crime, implied violent retaliation, Bucky’s arm injury implied, Steve simping for reader, reader watching porn, sloppy toppy, gagging, swallowing, coached masturbation, oral (m/f receiving) fingering, nipple play, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) breeding kink, size kink, violence (due to mob world).

A/N: This is a bonus for  #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask and any other requests for a part 2 to Try a Little Tenderness. Here it is babes, I hope you like it as much as the first part. Happy New Year! 🍾

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified 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.

Sam came, and he watched as you paced in your closed store the first day after the dust up at DUMBO. He told you minimal information, just that Bucky was alive and that he was going to stay there per Steve’s ‘request’ until he asked him to leave.

“I’m opening my store today.”

“No. You are not.”

Sam was usually nice, with that beautiful smile on display whenever he picked up Steve’s gifts. But now, he was steadfast.

You were hot. Not only at Steve for not telling you the whole story, but at everyone.

You couldn’t just sit around all day. You walked up to Sam and stood toe to toe.

“Take off that expensive jacket.”

You had an apron with the store logo in your hand.

Hours later, Sam took a break from helping you do store inventory to take a call. You kept working as he stepped into the back room. Then, you walked back to listen.

You peeked around your corner to see Sam letting out a sigh of relief.

“Good. At least that’s progress? He squeezed your hand?”

He paused.

“I know he has a long way to go, but you know Buck’s a fighter.”

“…Yes. Steve. I’m trying, but you know she’s stubborn…She’s okay. She’s a pistol, and she’s working me to death. She’s pissed at you though. At all of us. Yeah… I don’t think I can protect you from that. I’ll tell her it will be a while…”

You went back to your spreadsheet feeling some kind of way. Steve had time to call Sam, but not you. Okay.

Sam stepped out of the back room.

“Bucky’s alive. He was very badly injured, his left arm is…”

Sam paused, looking at you warily.

You looked back at him relieved, yet anxious at the same time.

“Let’s just say that he has a long road.”

You nodded and swallowed.

“What about Steve?”

You hated yourself for asking Sam. You should have been talking to Steve. But you couldn’t help it.

“He’s fine. Just has some… work to do right now.”

Your stomach dropped and you lifted your chin.

“What Steve does with his time has nothing to do with me, Sam. I don’t own him and he certainly does not own me.”

You were ready to fight.

“It’s not like we’re in a relationship. Steve’s fine, Bucky’s alive. So you can go now.”

You looked him in the eye so that he could get the message.

Sam shook his head.

“That’s not gonna happen Y/N.”

You glared at him.

“Tell your Boss that I’m sending you back.”

Sam advanced upon you, but you knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

“Learn this, Y/N. Steve’s not my Boss. He’s my friend, and just like Bucky, he’s my partner. I'm doing him a favor making sure you’re alright. That’s what friends do. You can’t send me back.”

You two stared at each other. This must be what it was like to have a brother.

“You know you’re very annoying.”

“Same, lady.”

You fought the urge to laugh and wanted to stick your tongue out at him.

“Get back to work. We have the entire stockroom to count.”

Sam shook his head and obliged.

Six days later, on Christmas Eve, the bell rang, signaling someone opening the door. You turned with a smile to greet the customer to see Steve standing there.

It was liked the wind was knocked out of you.

Steve stood there, staring at you, looking very tired, but with those same sparkling blue eyes. And he had the nerve to smile at you.

“Can I have the usual?”

He was a sight for sore eyes. You’d spent the week worried and frustrated, in addition to mad as hell. But he looked so damn good.

You walked over to Steve, and gazed up at him as he beamed down on you. You did the only thing you could think to do.

You slapped him.

“How dare you!”

Sam, who was in his apron behind the register, audibly gasped, because it didn’t end well with the last woman who slapped Steve. She’d ended up climbing out of a dumpster where Steve had unceremoniously placed her.

You looked over at Sam.

“Here is your friend, Sam. Talk to him. Because I certainly won’t.”

Steve’s heart was beating a mile a minute as he rubbed his face. That fire pent up inside you signaled a need for release. He watched you hungrily as you left, then turned back to Sam.

You stormed upstairs toward your apartment, hearing the beginnings of thier conversation.

“I thought we agreed to keep the store closed, Sam.”

“Well, the store’s owner might have a little to say to that. Have you ever tried to get her to do something she didn’t want to do?…”

You went upstairs, straight to the kitchen, reaching for your liquor cabinet. It was only noon, but you needed a drink.

You heard the door open behind you and did not turn around. You heard his steps into the kitchen, but you were immovable.

“Pour me one?”

You reached for a glass and slammed it down on the counter next to you, then poured some Uncle Nearest into it. You still didn’t look at him, but you shivered as he stepped behind you, nearly touching you to reach around for the glass, but only sharing his body heat.

“I deserve your anger, Ambrosia, But at the beginning, I genuinely thought that you knew who I was. I mean….”

You spun around, eyes full of fire, facing down Steve’s desire for you. And there was something else in his eyes. But you launched in nevertheless.

“At no time over dinner, or while you were sweet talking me into bed, did you mention that you were the head of an international crime organization. And then you put my business in danger. And apparently my life???”

Steve sighed and scrubbed his face.

“I know you’re angry, Baby, but you gotta listen to me.”

You closed your mouth and crossed your arms.

Steve’s face softened. At least you weren’t running away.

“I said at the beginning I thought you knew who I was. But then I realized that you didn’t know me as Steve Rogers the big bad dude, I was just that one customer who was sweet on you and sent gifts. And that made me fall for you even more.”

When he said ‘fall for you,’ your eyes went to his.

“Yeah, I said it.”

“Steve…”

You were trying to remain upset, but he was so sincere. Your resolve was weakening.

“Fall for me? You haven’t spoken to me in a week, Steve. You called Sam every day but…”

“I had work to do. Bucky was injured and he was touch and go. And I had to take care of… I had to take care of some things.”

He looked at you and slowed down.

“You had work to do? So did I. But you told me to close my store. You couldn’t have taken a few minutes to call, to text? I figured I didn’t mean as much to you as I thought.” 

You looked down at your dirty chucks, and at Steve’s Ferragamos.

Steve moved closer and tilted your head up by your chin. The electricity from his fingers was almost too much.

“No, Ambrosia.”

Steve’s eyes were wild now, and desperate. He wanted you to understand so badly, but he knew it would seem outlandish.

“You mean so much more. I fell for you because there were no expectations. I kept buying you gifts and you kept sending them back. And I thought you didn’t want me. But then when I asked you on a date and you accepted, I realized that…”

“…That all I want is you.”

You looked up at him and bit your lip. Steve could hardly contain himself.

“I can listen to you, Steve. And I would have listened if you called.”

Steve leaned down and kissed your lips softly. He groaned when you yielded to him, opening your mouth and peeking out your little tongue. He wanted to ravage you, but first, you had to understand.

“You’ve got to know. You’ve got to know that you change me Ambrosia. With you I am a different man. I couldn’t call you because you make me weak.”

Steve kissed your frown and started talking again.

“With you, weak is a good thing. I am gentle, I am kind. I am patient.”

Steve looked into your eyes. 

“I am in love.”

You gasped. 

“Steve…”

“You gotta listen. When I left, all I could think about, besides Bucky, was you. Your smile, your wit, your laugh, your body. How it felt to make love to you. To be inside you. To make you cum. Do you remember, do you remember how it felt?”

You smiled and nodded, playing with the St. Christopher’s medal around his neck.

“Look at me. Do you remember? Use your words.”

You clenched at his command. And you obeyed.

“Yes, Steve. I remember. I was sore for three days.”

Your admission and the new huskiness in your voice made him pull you closer and you could feel the pulsing in his pants. You also felt his heart beating in his chest.

“Fuck, Ambrosia. You make me wanna ruin you again.”

The way you looked at him indicated that you wanted the same. Steve felt his knees almost give out. He chuckled.

“See? You make me weak in the knees. Thoughts of you make me soft. And for what I had to do, I couldn’t be. D’you understand?”

You tried to think rationally. You knew what he was saying without saying it. He had to do horrible things. You watched the news this past week. You knew what Steve was responsible for. But you didn’t care. Bucky was always nothing but kind to you. And he was Steve’s best friend.

You thought about what you would have done in this situation. You looked back up at Steve.

“I understand.”

You bit your lip again.

“And I am still standing here with you because it is too late for me to tell you to leave. I endured Sam sleeping on my couch for a week and protecting me because I love you too, Steve. I think I have been in love with you for months now. And then, last week...”

Your hands moved to slip his jacket off his shoulders, kneading them and feeling the tension there. Steve’s eyes sought yours again.

“You love me too?”

“Yes, are you tired?”

“Exhausted, but… You want me to stay?”

“Yes…”

Your hand was on the outside of Steve’s pants, grasping his hardness and making him groan, knowing that he was leaking in his underwear. His hands moved up your sides and lifted you up to sit on the counter.

He dove into your neck, inhaling your scent and giving you gentle kisses that made you arch your back and your breasts into his chests. Then, he started sucking hickeys into you as his hands came up to knead and grasp you, and to tease your nipples with his thumbs.

“All week I’ve gone to bed and woken up rock hard to visions of you. Didn’t wanna jack off. I need you Ambrosia. Need to see you cum again. Need to bury myself deep inside you. Need for you to hug me in all the ways. Need to see your beautiful body. Need to sleep with you in my arms. I’m tired. Tired of being without you.”

You nuzzled his ear, knowing that the only important thing right now was his need. And yours.

“Sounds like you need me to suck your dick.” 

You felt bold because he wasn’t looking at you.

The man literally growled in your ear and then picked you up, still wrapped around him like a vine, and carried you to your bedroom. He sat you down on your bed and looked down on you as you looked up at him.

“What did you say?”

Steve made sure to hold your head up so you could look him in the eye. Your eyes watered as you licked your lips and took a deep breath.

“I said, I want to suck your dick.”

“That’s… what I thought you said.”

Steve continued to hold your head by your chin, and stuck his thumb in your mouth as he undid his pants. You squirmed as you got wet at the sound of his belt clanging on the floor and sucked his thumb like it was going out of style.

Steve could hardly catch his breath for anticipation and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He looked down at you as he pumped his massively hard cock in your face.

“I want to be very, very rough with you, but I’m not going to hurt you, Baby. You want this?”

Steve moved himself to within an inch of your lips.

“Please…” 

You made to move closer, but he held you fast. You almost felt his dick jump when you saw it. You squirmed again.

“Can you take it?”

You managed to extend your tongue and collect the drops of precum on his tip, making Steve shiver as his blazing eyes looked down on you.

“Fuck my face…”

“Holy!”

Steve grabbed both sides of your head as you opened wide and accepted him into your mouth.

“That hot little mouth, holy shit, Ambrosia. How do you…”

You concentrated and allowed him to push past your tonsils to your throat, then suckled him as he pulled out, tracing your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock. You ran your hands up his sides, tracing his v cut and abs upward under his shirt. Steve scrambled to take it off, and then pulled you off of him to take your shirt off.

“Where did you learn that?”

Steve raised his eyebrow as you grabbed for him again. He tried to be gentle, but you wouldn’t allow it, as you bottomed out again.

This time when you pulled off, gasping you said one word, “Porn,” and then started slurping sloppily again.

Steve stood there, head thrown back as you took his hips and went to town.

“Thank goodness for technology.”

You hummed your agreement, and then went for the gold.

“Ho-ho-holyyyyy. I’m gonna, fuckkkk Ambrosia, I’m gonna…”

You started gagging louder and finally, Steve took your head in order to use your mouth for his pleasure.

“It’s gonna be a lot… “

Steve was looking down on you with lust and you basked in it.

“You gonna swallow?”

You nodded eagerly, as Steve bared his teeth with an effort to hold back. You played with his balls, and he couldn’t anymore.

“Swallow like a good… fucking… girl…”

With those three thrusts, Steve sent a torrent of spend past your lips. You gulped it down and Steve thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He fell to his knees and you hugged him, assenting to his kiss so that he could taste himself on you.

“Thank you for that. Now I can think straight.”

He moved to push you back on the bed. 

“So, my sweet Ambrosia has been watching porn, huh?”

“I missed you Steve. Missed your cock.”

Steve shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Baby. I’m so sorry.”

Steve was now taking off your shoes, pants, and panites. He kissed your thighs and spread your legs with his hands. He was looking deep into your intimate parts. 

“My little sweet flower. Still so beautiful. But now she’s so sloppy.”

Those blue eyes looked at you, and your cheeks warmed.

“What happened?”

That deep voice.

“You know, Steve…”

“You like sucking my cock, yeah?”

“Yes, I do. Been dreaming of it.”

Steve grunted. His cock coming back to life at your words.

“You been touching yourself?”

“I have, but nothing compares to you. Didn’t know if I would see you again. Was thinking of getting a toy.”

Steve looked angry for a second.

“Never doubt, as long as I have breath in my body. You will see me again.” 

His eyes flicked down your body, reminding you of possession.

“Show me how you touched yourself. I wanna watch. Will you let me watch you cum?”

You squirmed at the request.

“Ssteeevvveeee!”

“Don’t be shy. Look. I’ll join you.” 

Steve leaned up on his elbow and started stroking his dick, making you wetter than you already were.

You bit your lip and slid your hands from your tits down your sides, one moving back up to play with your nipple, and the other finding your clit. You licked your lips as your fingers played in your slippery slit and lubricated your button. The sound was pornographic as your movements indicated how wet you were.

You watched as Steve opened his mouth and moved his hand faster.

“Put your fingers inside, baby. Pretend they’re mine.”

You shivered as you obeyed and your thumb tuned your body to a marvelous frequency with Steve watching. It was so erotic. You started to cum when Steve started moaning. 

“How pretty. Y’look so pretty getting off. Pretty little fingers in that gorgeous hole. My sweet Ambrosia…”

He was descending toward your center, breath hot on your cunt.  He inhaled deeply, taking in the essence of you.

“Let me be your toy…”

And his lips wrapped around your vibrating clitoris, sliding it between his lips quickly at first, causing you to jump, then, when his strong hands held your thighs open, he suckled it completely into his mouth and used his tongue to try and suck the life out of you.

You screamed and Steve slipped a finger inside your tight hole, thrusting gently at first, and then  adding another finger and becoming more insistent in the quest for your orgasm.

You came very quickly, knees around his head before he pried them off and then held you open. Steve blew on your cunt to extend the sensations, and thrummed your clit while you begged him to stop. The quivers were extended as he came up and sucked your nipples, and pulling his hair only spurred him on longer.

When you finally, finally came down, your hoarse voice complained to, 

“All my stars and heavens, Steve!”

“How can you be so fucking cute and so damn sexy at the same time. My dream girl.”

Steve kissed your forehead as you grabbed his cock and started pumping.

“Gimme.”

Steve tried to frown at you.

“So demanding.”

“Steve please.”

“You want this dick?”

Your breathy “Yes!” almost made him almost cum in your hand. 

“You. Are going to be the death of me.”

Steve held your thighs in your hands and pushed them up beside you.

His stiff cock seemed to know the way home as he positioned himself at your entrance. He slid the thick head inside you as you keened as you knew his shaft was almost as thick.

“You okay, Baby?”

“Hnnngh.. Oh Steve…give me more…”

Steve almost exploded at your face and the way you were squeezing him.

“Okay.. I don’t really wanna… hurt…”

“Hurt me pleaseeeee.”

“Shiiiitttttttt.”

Steve slid into your very wet canal and stayed there as you wrapped all of your limbs around him as you got used to his girth again.

“I-I-I can’t… I’m gonna cum… inside… I can’t… you’re gripping me so… so so tight…”

“Mmmmmmghhh! Give me!”

And Steve started moving, slowly at first, and as you urged him on, faster and deeper.

“I had plans for how I was gonna… fuck…”

“Oh my god… Steve, I’m…”

“I wanted to go nice and slow… ohhhhhh…”

When he felt you quiver around him was when he started cumming.

“Fuck! It’s too soon… oh my god you feel so good…”

Steve buried his face into your neck, huffing and puffing as his cum spurted out of him and into your warm goodness. You felt every splash of his hot ejection inside you and briefly considered the consequences.

So did Steve.

“Oh shit, I came inside you.”

Steve looked pretty pleased with himself. You had to laugh.

“I can’t with you, Steve.”

“I believe you just did.”

You both chuckled as he kissed you and collapsed on the bed.

Steve pulled you close.

“Sam is probably down there dealing with customers…still got bills to pay. The lights, the mortgage…”

You were dumping the last thoughts out of your head as you were falling asleep.

“Not the mortgage anymore. Valkyrie bought it from Wells Fargo…”

Steve sighed and kissed you on the forehead, exhaustion finally catching up with him.

“Oh, ” You replied as you snuggled closer to him. 

And both of you fell into the warm embrace of deep sleep for an afternoon nap.

READ Part three I WONDER

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[yaoiwars]

YAOI WARS COMIC #1: LEON GOES TO WORK

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 1: Digging For Gold

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn’t always have to personally negotiate his business dealings, but what happens when one of them insists they’ll only deal with him? He heads out to the country to get it sorted, of course.

Word Count: 2,167

Content/Warnings: light mob themes, mentions of misogyny/ Bucky’s attempt at it, fem reader with minimal descriptions, minimal use of y/n, use of a pet name (Honey), Sam and Steve teasing Bucky and Bucky having none of it. Content below the cut.

Author’s Note: Well here it is— my first fic publication! I literally never write, but I’ve felt so motivated to get this down. Idek how I wrote this many words bc lord knows I’m not doing the same for school. Anyway, I digress. I hope you all enjoy. Comments, suggestions, asks, and reblogs are soooo appreciated!! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Next >

Bucky was used to being turned down at first. In the fact, he was used to being turned down two, three, four times before getting his way. He always got his way, until it came to you. He had been trying to seal this deal for what was going on months now. Usually by his fifth ask, his clients got some sense into them, and in this case, sense means a threat of lead through the heart by a henchman. But that hadn’t phased you at all. If anything, it encouraged you to keep pushing back. A real piece of work, this girl was. Each time someone went to negotiate, they came back with their head hung low, sending in their boss to deal with her next as she had requested. Just for that cocky bastard to leave and come back doing the same. Why were they giving into your requests? They couldn’t help themselves when you had that convincing way about you, and neither could Bucky, even if he wanted to deny it to everyone around him. After months of asking for the next boss, you had finally reached James Buchanan Barnes: the head of his mob. Known for his ruthless nature, no one had ever come out of a deal saying ‘no’ to him. If they said no, they didn’t come out of the deal, simple as that. No one had seen his soft spots, and his buttons weren’t to be pushed. Too many had found out the hard way. The only one who could get away with it was his best friend who had known him since childhood Steve. More like a brother, and his only family left, at that. But it looked like he had a soft spot for you, letting you get away with dismissing these meetings, which is exactly why he needed to go himself: to show he wasn’t soft. To show that he could close the deal and his men lacked discipline when they fell to your kind charm. He’d go to this meeting and then wash his hands of the issue, making the deal he decided he had wanted months ago. He got into the back of his black town car and shut the door, directing the driver to start the long journey to the farm.

As he sat in the car, he wondered why the partition was up, as he heard singing faintly coming from the other side. He pushed the button for it to come down, to be greeted by a familiar pair of blue eyes that belonged to his best friend Steve and the back of Sam’s head.

“Oh heyyy boss. Fancy seeing you here,” Sam said keeping his eyes on the road and turning down the radio.

“Where’s Gio?” Bucky barked back.

“Oh calm down. He’s home relaxing with his family. Sam and I gave him the day off. Figured you’d need our help,” Steve said with a small shrug.

Bucky grumbled to himself something about being the boss while Steve and Sam exchanged a quick glance in the front seat before Sam spoke up again.

“Listen Boss, she’s already been through both of us. Obviously we can’t tell you how to succeed, but we can tell you what to expect going in there.”

“Plus we can remind you what we’re really here for and give you back-up none of us had the luxury of” Steve interjected, “the fact that you’ve waited this long shows you’ve got a soft spot for her, and we can’t afford to push this deal back any farther.”

Bucky knew that. He knew it was coming down to the wire “First off, I do not have a soft spot. Not since I was little, and you know that. I’d have anyone else’s head for even thinking such a thing. And second, if it’s so easy, why couldn’t you two have sealed this deal last month when you went, then? Huh?”

At that, Steve snapped his mouth shut and Sam kept his head forward, not daring to glance back at the mob boss whose jaw was clenched with anticipation.

“That’s what I thought. But go ahead, speak now or forever hold your peace, because when I go in there, I need to come out with a deal.”

He’d never let anyone besides his right-hand and number three men know how on edge he was for this meeting. He looked out the window hoping for the best and that his hard outer persona wouldn’t crack today as Sam and Steve started with their briefing.

When Sam pulled off of the pavement and onto the dirt driveway, Bucky’s eyes absorbed the rolling hills and abundant trees. It was beautiful, but nothing like his city. He enjoyed the tight spaces and routine rigidity of concrete. This was a different world. Her land was sprawling, far further than the crop fields sat. Acres for the cattle to graze and others that laid fallow. It was built over old mines. That’s why he wanted it all: for the tunnels. It would be so much easier to store and move his product, cutting transportation time and having discreet underground facilities if he could just strike a deal, but he’d finally met his match without even meeting her yet. A woman just as stubborn as him, but opposite in every other way.

Sam pulled up in front of a beautiful farm house. Modest, but chic and well cared for. Leaning against one of the posts that framed the front porch was her. Hair hidden under a cowgirl hat, well worn from work-filled days and in a flannel shirt, jeans, and boots showing even more mileage than the hat. Bucky looked out the window and let out a deep breath.

“Wish me luck, boys”

They both just nodded. A more than sufficient acknowledgment in their line of work. Bucky opened the car door and his red bottoms crunched the rocks beneath his feet as he sauntered over to her.

“Ms. Y/L/N. This has been a long time coming.”

“Indeed it has. Good to see you Mr. Barnes. And please, call me Y/N.” Her voice twanged.

Then she flashed him that smile, ugh how he hated that. She wasn’t even trying, but it made him feel an odd warmth that started deep in his chest. One that almost made it seem like it made his heart melt a little. A heart that was stuck in an ice age for as long as he could remember. Still, he couldn’t budge. He had to set an example for his men. How could he push an agenda he couldn’t fulfill? His thoughts continued to race as he stepped up to the bottom of the wooden steps leading to the porch. Not a good start with her literally having the high ground.

“Do your drivers want to come in? I don’t mind gettin’ them some refreshments while we chat.” She offered kindly. How was she so smooth? Bucky glanced back and Steve and Sam gawked at you though Steve’s window. Bucky made a mental note to have that tinted more so no one could see them embarrassing him and themselves in the future.

“No. They’re fine.” Bucky coldly, borderline spat back. “And you can call me by my name, as well, if we’re not doing last names. That’s mostly what I do with those I work closely with”

Bucky wanted to have a firm hand in these business dealings, but he wasn’t a total monster, plus, he knew in most cases, the more comfortable a client was, the more likely they’d give up benefits, sweetening up his own end of the deal. See? He was still working on wrapping you around his finger. He had this down, even if Steve and Sam didn’t think so. At least, that’s what he tried to convince himself as you nodded with a soft smile on your face and led him inside.

Bucky followed you past a living room, flanked by a functional and methodically laid out kitchen. That gave him a better idea of who he was working with: someone who meticulously planned their work environment. Someone who cared for every aspect no matter how small. Everything had a place and made sense. Nothing unnecessary was present and it seemed ergonomic, yet modern and classy, like everything about you. His gaze lingered as long as he could until he had to pull his head forward to continue following you down the hallway to your home office. Once again, practical and functional, with a few papers strewn around a laptop and your other useful desk features. You had everything you needed in arm’s reach, no need to tuck it away in drawers if you were constantly using it and you kept it organized enough that it wasn’t a stressful mess. You gestured for Bucky to take a seat on the couch across from you as you sat in your desk chair and flashed him a smile. Ugh there was that smile again, and this time it got him good and he couldn’t help but dopily smile back, not even aware of what his body was doing.

“James” oh how he hated when you called him that. Sure, it was his formal business name, but the way you said it made him grimace. Yeah, it sounded beautiful from your lips, but its use meant your weren’t close. And that’s all he wanted. Was for you to be close. Up against him, on top of him, engulfing him, drowning him. And he would happily accept that fate. Heck, he was drowning right now in these thoughts about you, but he clawed his way to the surface and shook his head to refocus as you said his name again, noticing his attention had drifted in favor to a blank stare at your lips. He knew with that slip-up, he had to regain control and take charge.

“Listen Honey, you’ve essentially been exterminating every guy I send in here and I don’t like it. All you are is sweet but somehow you’re turning down this deal like a bitter old man would” His sudden stern and almost condescending tone was a huge juxtaposition to the wonderland face you had noticed moments ago. You didn’t like that one bit. Being an independent woman who ran a successful business, you were used to men trying to stomp on you until they had their way. You didn’t stand for it with all of Bucky’s underlings and you weren’t going to stand for it now. You’d regain control and keep your calm demeanor, because you’re that much better than all these other mediocre men in business you dealt with all too often.

“First off, James. Let’s not get into extermination or pesticides. That’s far too complicated of an issue for right now, especially if you don’t understand the simple terms I so graciously asked you for. And if you wanna call something honey, you better be referring to my beehives on the south side of the property. Now, I just want to talk to you so you can see where I’m coming from” you said was a sickeningly sweet smile. He could see it didn’t reach your eyes, still filled with fire and not backing down. But dang if your tone still didn’t match the new nickname he’s given you. Sweet and thick. Bucky for the first time found himself listening to demands from another. He settled down into the couch cushions as you pulled out the contract you’d drafted yourself.

Bucky raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, fine. By all means, let’s get down to business. I wanna see what’s been giving all my men such a hard time that you’ve had to come directly to me.”

Bucky leaned forward to grab the contract from your hands. He flipped through the pages, most of it was identical to what he’d drafted, besides you inflating the numbers. He could handle that, but the last line he saw made his neck muscles go limp as he dropped his head.

“James Barnes will work and stay at the farm for one month’s time, uninterrupted, to learn the gravity, value, and hard work associated with operations.”

He should’ve known, but what was one month? If he was going rn use the mines, he may as well see all the land and livestock that could be affected if things went awry. He’s been doing this job for years, anyway. Maybe he needed the break. He’s sure Steve could control everything else, right? He wouldn’t have waited so long for this deal had he not needed the mine shafts. Your smooth voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“So… what’ll it be, James?”

He looked up at you through his lashes with a smirk you couldn’t quite read as you returned your own smirk, knowing what this meeting meant. Knowing that he wouldn’t have come in person unless he really wanted to make a deal happen.

“Sure Honey, whatever you want”

Next>

[of-many-fandomss]

Guess who loves mafia!au’s?? *raises hand* I do! Send in some requests :)

[kalopsic-lagomorph]

Only ship things if it's funny btw, don't care how much sexual tension they have if they dont play off eachother Its a no from me

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Everywhere You Go

Warnings: this fic includes implied noncon and coercion, mentions of crime and abuse, and explicit sexual content. Tags are not exhaustive and more may be added as the series progresses.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The day your husband is released from prison is the day it all falls apart.

Characters: Mob!Tony Stark, Steve Rogers

Note: This is my entry for @the-slumberparty​ Week One Writer’s Activity. My prompts were Isolation + Mafia. I included all three items.

So I kinda tried something new... let me know what you think.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like the boys love milkshakes. Take care. 💖

The screen flicks to black. You stand with your arm outstretched, remote still aimed at the television. Your heart drums behind your ears as the banner sticks in your vision. ‘Stark released on mistrial’. 

The remote slips from your fingers as your arm drops to your side. It’s like you can see the air around you, feel it suffocating you as you breathe it in, as if you’re wading through muck. You turn and lean against the armrest of the sectional, hanging your head as you try to stop the spinning sensation.

You steady yourself and stand straight. You look down at the tremble in your hands. That you can’t stop. You go to the window and look out at the fading yellow grass and the peeling wood fence. This is supposed to be the end. It is supposed to be safe.

You tug the curtains shut and turn to lean against the wall. You hug yourself and stare at the rug’s edge, the slightly fraying fabric trims the worn wooden boards. You shudder and sink down to the floor, hiding your face in your hands.

“Girl like you deserves diamonds,” Tony’s fingers tickles your collar bone as he plays with the circle cut diamond, a weight reminder of his hold on you. “And every guy who looks at you, deserves to know who you belong to…”

Goosebumps rise as the shadow of his touch brushes over you with the breeze that slips in the open window. Your teeth chatter though it’s barely cold enough to be anything more than balmy. You drag your fingers down to your neck to make sure there’s nothing there. No necklace, no collar, no leash.

He’s gone. He doesn’t know where you are. You made sure of it. But that was when he was behind bars. 

You can never be safe so long as he’s free.

A week passes without occurrence, assuring you that your paranoia got the best of you. The idea of Tony getting out is hardly comforting but you’re safe. You’re protected. You’re not alone.

You go about your usual routine. A breakfast of fruit and steel cut oats, a cup of espresso with a hint of cream. You watch the birds hop over the top of the fence and the bees buzzing around the dandelions.

You have walls, you have food, you aren’t in pain. You’re safe. You keep reciting that fact like a mantra. Safe. The word becomes gibberish the more you think it.

You retreat and rinse out the small cup and set it on the rack to drip dry. A simple existence. It’s all you ever longed for in that lonely house, adorned in gems, stuck in his trap. You never wanted any of that. Not even him.

You take the basket from beside the front door and pull it open, the warmth of the sunshine fading away as you stop short on the threshold. You look down at the long stems wrapped in a white bow. The peachy orange is the same shade as those you held on your wedding day. The basket blows out of your hand with the sudden gust that surrounds you.

You stare down between your feet at the dainty petals. It can’t be. Here? 

You look out over the meadows, sprawling, lush, and green. Nothing but the ripple of the wind as it blows over the tall blades. You step back, leaving the basket to roll away and the flowers where they met you. You shut the door and lean on it, a hand on the wood as your heart hammers.

You need to leave. Now.

“Flowers,” Agent Rogers bends to scoop up the bouquet, “really?”

“It’s not a coincidence,” you insist, “I know I sound crazy but I also know Tony. Better than anyone. You know that too.”

“I can’t exactly tell the higher ups that you got some flowers. It’s not exactly grounds for relocation,” he turns the bunch in his hand and examines the white ribbon.

“Right,” you say, deflated, “but– you have everything. Go back in the evidence, check the wedding photos. Rosa Independence. A twisted joke, I know. He said he liked the colour.”

“The more I learn about the guy, the more I hate him,” he pushes his golden hair back and drops his hand, pulling back his sleeve to look at his watch, “gotta call it in. Probably won’t have a decision right away.”

You nod, uneasily shifting on your feet. You don’t know how long you have to get away. Maybe you’ll have to do it without him. Pack a bag and just go. Wherever you can.

“I’ll see if I can stay. Standard security procedure. No reason for us to take this too lightly,” he lays the flowers across the oak table that play centerpiece to the front room, “no one should know you’re up here. So, even if they’re not your husband’s attempt at reconciliation, they’re a very pointed statement.”

“Thank you, Agent Rogers,” you say breathily, “I’m sorry.”

“Doing my job, nothing to be sorry about,” he says as he pulls out his phone.

You give a half-hearted smile before he strides out. You sit inside as his low tones waft in but you can’t make out the words. You can’t focus enough to try as the curling orange petals mock you.

“I’ve been waitin’ all day for this, sweetheart,” Tony purrs into your neck as you feel the thorn stems catch on your dress. He leans you over the suede car seat as he nuzzles your throat and nips. Not even halfway to the reception and he’s got your veil askew, your skirt hiked up past your thighs. “I’m gonna fuck you just like this, every day for the rest of our lives.”

The door hits the frame and draws you back to the present. Agent Rogers tucks his phone into his jacket, “looks like I’m posting up here for the night.”

You nod, speechless as the memory lingers in the back of your head. You stand and cross the room, refusing to look at the table.

“Please, can you throw those away?” You eke out.

He’s quiet. You turn your head and watch from your peripheral as he nears the table and lifts the bouquet, the petals rustling softly. He looks at them and puts them to his nose.

“Sure,” he answers at last as he retreats with the long stems, “never understood why roses were seen as romantic. Too many thorns.”

“Kinda like marriage,” you scoff as you face him again, “thank you, Agent.”

“I’m gonna be here a while. Steve is just fine.”

“Can’t be too careful,” Steve says as you stare at the side mirror, watching the sun fade behind you.

“Yeah,” you say mindlessly and shift in your seat, “I’m sor–”

“Stop it,” he admonishes as he adjusts the air conditioner, “you’re sorry cause what? I chose to be in WITSEC as much as they chose me. I knew what I was getting into.”

“I know but I–” you swallow and rub your throat as it bobs, “I guess I’m sorry for a lot of things. I lived a long time with a man who took without thinking. By proxy, I did the same. I… was too afraid to do anything but let him.”

“The mistrial wasn’t your fault, you know that, right?”

“Maybe,” you shrug.

“It’s not. It’s the f– the bought and paid for judge sitting on the bench. You know Stark, he’s got hands in everyone’s pockets.”

“I know, but… I shoulda known better.”

“You did what you had to. That’s all we can ever do,” Steve says, “why don’t you turn on some music, gonna be a long ride.”

You clamp your lips shut and reach forward to flick on the stereo. You flip through the curated stations until you find a retro pop channel. No chance of AC/DC. His favourite.

You sit back and lean your elbow on the door and cradle your forehead. The skyline blurs by as you try not to think. That never works. It’s impossible. He’s always there, looming in the back of your mind. Just like he had for all those years.

“Must be hard,” you sit up, “doing what you do and having a family. I can’t imagine…”

He’s quiet as his eyes focus through the windshield and he switches lanes. His grip loosens on the wheel as he smoothly evens out. “Easy, actually, I don’t got a family.”

“Oh, well…”

“Don’t you feel sorry for me. I know you don’t have anyone either. I mean, I got friends, at least.”

You sniff and fold your hands in your lap. It was only ever Tony. You weren’t allowed to have friends. Friends were dangerous. Friends talked. He wasn’t stupid. Everyone was just playing politics, trying to take his throne. Did he ever suspect his own wife would turn him in to the DEA?

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Steve says as Cher’s voice drones sonorously from the speakers, “I mean, I… I guess I don’t know what I meant. I see all the guys I work with, they got wives they leave at home, births they miss, family dinners they’re never home for. I just don’t want all that. I don’t want anyone to let down.”

“Fair,” you rub your upper arm as you glance at the rearview. For a moment, your eyes meet, placid but warm blue irises with a tint of green, “and I know you didn’t mean anything. I chose my path too. Tried to, in the end.”

It’s late. You’re restless. Like any night since the day you saw your ex on the news walking out of the courthouse. More so since you came to this new safehouse.

Maybe it’s the unusualness of having company or maybe it’s the circumstance. You’re hiding, as good as running from your husband. You knew you always would but it just feels so futile. Like you can’t get far enough away. Like there’s nothing that can hold him back, not a cell or the justice system.

It was like he always said, Tony Stark always finds a way.

You flip on the lamp as you enter the living room. The small apartment is unremarkable. You suspect that’s deliberate. 

The blinds are always done and not much sunlight gets in. The place is a dour and grim contrast to your former abode. You miss the freedom of the fields and the optimism of the skies. Even if you had neither, the illusion was there.

You take the novel from beside the base of the lamp where you left it. You notice the spine is bent in a new place. You examine the curling corner of the cover, your bookmark exactly how you left it.

“Interesting story,” Steve says as he enters.

You pop your head up in surprise and rest the book against the edge of the table. Your coexistence grows easier by the day, the week, nearly a month now. His presence is comforting. If he left, you’re not sure you would stay. He kept your fear from getting the best of you.

“I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you up,” you let go of the book and face him.

“I was awake,” he gives a slanted grin, “I was just sneaking out to… grab a book.”

“This one,” you push your fingertip to the cover. He nods guiltily.

You look over at the shelf against the wall. He follows your gaze and scoffs.

“Yeah, I know,” he says, “but none of those are holding my attention.”

You turn back to him. He’s in nothing but a pair of grey joggers, unabashed as the vee of his pelvis peeks out above the elastic and his muscular torso tempts your eyes. You focus on his face and grasp the book, sliding it off the table. You cross to him.

“All yours,” you hold it up to him, “I’m too tired to read.”

He gently brushes his hand over yours and takes the book. He’s close. Very close. You can smell his sweat beneath the dissolving layer of deodorant. You can even feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Night,” you catch a yawn in your palm and go to sidle past him.

“I could… read to you. I think I’m a bit behind but if you don’t mind a bit of backtracking–”

You look him in the eye, amused by the suggestion. He wants to read to you, like a child?

“You can close your eyes, listen,” he suggests, “might help you sleep.”

“You don’t have to do that, Steve, but I appreciate it.”

He nods and averts his eyes. His cheek ticks, “I… would you mind humouring me? I don’t know, this place, I can hear everything. I just need something to distract me.”

You smile, a small expression of commiseration. 

“Sure, I… I think I need that too.”

You don’t know how it happened. The gasp that escapes you is as much from the realisation as the pleasure of the situation. Steve’s tongue glides up between your folds as you arch your backs, the sheets twisted around your body as you writhe. You bring your thighs up, clamping them on either side of his head as he coaxes to his whim.

Just like any other night, you sat beside him and listened to him read. Nothing very riveting, a novel about a man on the run. You slumped against his shoulder and his hand rested on your thigh before you succumbed to the tension. You didn’t think, you just did.

And there you are, puffing and whining as this man covets your body. As his hands explore your thighs and hips, gripping, groping, kneading, feeling everything with intense admiration. Your fingers twine into his golden hair, urging him deeper.

It’s been far too long since you felt affection. Well before your husband. The intimacy is nearly overwhelming, nestling along your eyelids and threatening to overflow as you bask in the fiery warmth. A man, this man, touches you like you are a true treasure. He doesn’t drag, and fling, and bend you like a toy.

You tug on his silky locks, moaning his name as he follows your desperate motion. His wet lips graze your stomach, smearing between your tits as he lifts himself over you. He hovers above you, his breath sweet with your flavour. You frame his face between your hands.

“Make love to me,” you beg, a ridiculous statement from a ridiculous dime store romance. But there’s no other way to say it. You want to be loved, not flaunted, not used, “please, Steve, I need–”

He crashes his lips into yours, humming as he swallows up your words. You feel his need, his desire, the same desperation coursing through him. You sling your arms around his neck and welcome him in. Even if it’s only convenient, you want to feel him. You want to feel everything he makes you feel.

For once, you get to choose what you want.

“Steve,” you croak as he opens the car door, shoving you in as the streets like gleam in your eyes, “where–”

“Be quiet and get in,” he orders as he ushers you into the seat.

The door snaps before you can say anything else. He quickly moves around the hood and gets in the driver’s side. He turns the key and the engine rolls over. He says nothing as he backs out, his hand on your headrest as he cranes to squint behind him.

He veers out of the lot and onto the street. You buckle your belt just before you can slide forward into the dash. You brace the door as he slows and steers neatly into a lane. You wipe the sleep from your eyes.

He sighs and pushes his head back, “we stayed too long… we… we were stupid.”

“Steve,” you sniff, “I know but…”

“It was nice,” he admits, “it really was but– Fuck, I could lose my job.”

“I’m sorry, Steve, I never should’ve–”

“I made the first move,” he clucks, “please, it’s my own fault. I just wanted it to last forever.”

Your silent as your vision blurs and you look out onto the street, the tall lightpoles bleary as your tears obscure them, “me too.”

“North. There’s a safehouse. That’s where they’re sending us. You.”

“What? Are you… are you leaving?”

“I have to. Orders. Procedure. I have to hand you off to a new agent.”

“Oh,” your chest pits and you hug yourself, “so this is goodbye?”

He frowns as yellow light flashes through the windows and illuminates his features. He grips the wheel and exhales heavily. His cheek dimples as he nods.

“We have leave to stop at a motel north of Cherrywood. We’ll say goodbye there.”

Steve takes the backroads. The trip is both slow and too fast. The end draws closer and closer with an inevitability that makes your heart ache. You don’t love Steve but you’ll miss his easy confidence and his warmth.

You don’t say much as the wheels roll on. You don’t know what to say. Your respite at the hotel only left you feeling worse. All you were losing was left back in that rented room. All that you’ll never know again. You know as well as Steve that this is a one way trip.

“Wilson’s a good guy,” he breaks the silence, “nice. Easy to talk to.”

He’s not you. The thought stays where it belongs as you lean your chin in your hand, “I’m sure.”

“You’ll be okay.”

“Mhmm,” you sit back and cross your arms, “where am I going?”

“Another safe house, I’d think. The less people know the better, right? That’s the order of things.”

“For how long?”

He shrugs. You scratch your neck as you stretch it. You’ve been in that damn car so long, every part of you feels compressed. You square your shoulders wide and push your legs out as far as they’ll go.

He falls back into his former lull, following the winding road between the dense crowd of evergreen. It’s oddly desolate. Even in daylight, the trunks are shrouded in blackness. You watch the passing of the great sentinels as they blur into each other, errant branches on the forest floor and twigs littered at the edge of the road.

You’re drawn from your mournful rumination of what you’re leaving behind and the mounting dread of what comes next. You look up as the tires slow and you see a dark vehicle ahead, at the dip of the next valley. Steve eases onto the brake as he pulls up, a man against the hood of an SUV waits in a dark blue jacket and sunglasses.

You look over at Steve. He gives a nod then glances back through the windshield, “Wilson.”

He doesn’t wait for you as he climbs out. You follow only after a minute, trying to gather a semblance of calm. You’ve done it before. You did it for years on Tony’s arm. You can do it again. Everything is fine. You’re fine.

“Well, here she is,” Steve announces.

“‘Bout time. I’m pretty sure I saw a bear waiting on your ass,” the other man, Wilson, comments.

Steve looks back as you linger by the car and waves for you to come forward. Reluctantly you drag your feet across the cracked tarmac. The other man flips up his sunglasses and considers you from head to toe.

“All yours,” Steve says coolly. His indifference stings. He’s acting, he has to.

The other man pushes away from the front of his car and nears you. You wince in surprise as he reaches to your belt. Before you can react, he has your hand and hooks a leather cuff around your wrists. He tightens the buckle and you try to pull away from him.

He jars you with a mean yank and twists your arm behind you. As he fumbles to secure your other wrist, you whimper, “Steve.”

Steve raises his chin, the sunlight reflecting in his crystal blue eyes. He turns to you and smirks, “that’s Agent Rogers.”

“What’s going on?” You struggle as Wilson latches onto the link between the cuffs.

“Protective custody,” Steve declares as he comes closer. You frown as you bat your eyes, an icy dagger sinking into your chest with each step, “doll, it was fun while it lasted, wasn’t it?”

The room is freezing. You don’t expect any different. It’s one of his warehouses. Wilson brought you there, left you on that metal chair, cuffs hooked around a bar along the back, one on each ankle, binding them to the legs. You shiver and drop your head, waiting.

You knew. You knew all along. From the day you walked into the police station. It could never work. You could never escape Tony Stark. He can buy anyone; you, Steve, Wilson…

A metal door rolls open loudly and clangs back into place. Footsteps echo across the concrete. As you raise your head, a shadow appears in the dim of the large door frame. A bulb above you hangs on wire, casting a sobering hue over you.

Tony steps into the umbrella of light and you sit back, raising your chin defiantly. It never does much to pout, to play nice. It’s too late for that now. You both know what you did.

He stops in front of you, pushing the bottom of his jacket back to rest his hand on his pistol. You watch the movement, thumb brushing along the butt. You take a breath, ready.

“Hi, Tony,” you look him in the eye.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he steps closer and brings his other hand up to cradle your jaw, pushing your head higher, “I missed ya.”

You laugh sharply, “missed you too.”

“You know, a man goes away for three years and finally gets free. He’s lookin’ forward to coming home to a warm bed, a warm woman,” his thumb caresses along your cheek, “then he finds his house as empty as his cell.”

“Let’s not do this,” you say, “get it over with.”

He tilts his head and his mouth slants. He sucks his teeth as his eyebrows rise in resignation. He sighs as he toys with your lower lip. You feel him tugging at his belt and brace yourself. You wait, expecting the kiss of the hard barrel against your temple.

A cold metal blade slides down the top of your shirt and slices through the fabric. Tony pulls back as he cuts to the hem, the fabric falling open. You cringe and turn your face away. He rescinds the knife and spins it in his hand.

“Honey, you’re home,” he says, “and we got some catching up to do.”

[neonovember]

Redwood Oak’s

Mafia!au x Steve Rogers

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 

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

divider by @firefly-graphics​ !

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

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

Steve's words echo loudly in your skull like a ball being knocked around your head, turning your brain to mush. The warmth of Steve's breath that had gripped you like a vice had dissipated the second the both of you had entered the expansive room of Steve's Office.

You don't see it, but Steve clenches his jaw in tight restraint to stop himself from putting a hole in Rumlow’s head and instead envelopes himself into the stone-faced demeanor he had learnt to form the moment he stepped up to the throne destined for him.

But god, did that horrified look on yourself tear Steve from the inside out. What had he done to you? It screamed betrayal in Steve's mind, that you not only had been hurt but by one of his own men. The man who had sworn to protect you had lied. And for Steve, his word was as good as its weight in fucking gold.

Steve had to play it level headed, the heavy weight of his father's presence was always near, but it seemed to cloud his vision at this moment,

“Don’t do nuthin stupid, think, just stop for a second and think”

Steve didn't want to think, he wanted to delve deep into the darkened desire within him that preened at the idea of Rumlows blood dripping between his clenched fists. Steve’s desire for violence shocked him a little, he could feel his fist shaking under his grip, like they had a mind of their own.

Steve wasn't a violent man, he was sensible, it didn’t matter if the entire city of New York believed he was cruel, because he knew every action had a means, it wasn't just to spill blood and crack skin. Steve’s entire enterprise was never built on appearances, despite the world it lives in, nothing Steve did didn't have an objective reason. He thought that would be a light of mercy before the spray of blood would coat his button-up.

But now, there didn't seem to be any reason to wait and sit, in the end, it all seemed sensible. Any threat of danger to your life needed to be eliminated, and returned with such a display of cruelty that no one would try it again. There was a gnawing feeling, however, at the recesses and edges of Steve's mind, the kind that screamed at him to see what was truly happening.

“Look”, and Steve learnt to listen.

There was something more to Rumlow than just scaring you, something more sinister, it echoed deep within Steve and the reminder of the cruel world beneath the gravel ground was as clear as ever. Steve had to find out because now he felt that your safety was his responsibility, an obligation he felt every bone within him scream to fulfil.

“Bucky” Steve calls the brown-haired man dressed down in a black suit, the outline of a holster poking through the waist of his jacket.

Bucky murmurs something into Sam's ear, before making his way towards Steve, his gaze shifting between you and the tall blonde standing a few spaces behind you.

“Need something from me, Steve?” Bucky says, making an effort to keep his gaze towards Steve, despite Steve's gaze being situated on you.

“Take our friend here to get something to eat, and then use one of my cars to get her home”. Steve murmurs, almost discreetly so only the three of you can hear.

You noticeably fidget at the mention of going home, it wasn't that you didn't want to, you did, by all accounts, but you didn't know what you would open the door to when you did end up back at the decrepit apartment complex you loved. Your apartment wasn't necessarily known for being the most well-secured, but you figured your neighbours would at least tell you if someone had broken in and trashed the place.

Steve moves towards Bucky, turning his body to face away from your wandering gaze

“Take one of my unmarked cars, it seems we’ve got a fuckin rat in our very own house” Steve whispered into Bucky’s ear, causing Bucky to turn his head to face Steve. A look passes between the both of them, their eyes conversing in a way words never could, in a way that told you they had been brothers long before this entire world fell upon their shoulders.

“Well go on then” Steve’s deep voice whispers into your ear, you can taste the heat of his hand pressing onto your waist, as you feel the outline of his revolver press into the small of your back.

“Don’t think I won’t hurt my men to protect you, I’ll kill him if I have to” Steve murmurs, he doesn’t have to say his name, but your mind has been repeating it enough to know who he's talking about, and your heart skips a beat in surprise, air catches your lungs and you have to swallow back the strange feeling brewing in your stomach before following Bucky’s pointed gaze out the office doors, several dozen eyes watching your every step.

The squeak of Bucky’s dress shoes and the click of your pump loafers follow each other down the carpet and painting-lined hallways. You sneak glances through half-open doors and you're met with similar pictures, women and men dressed in black and white staff uniform cleaning and dusting away priceless antiques, ruffling pillows and beds that were never going to be slept in, and folding the endless crisp white shirts Steve wore.

You pass a hallway that looks different to the rest, darker somehow like it was sacred. You don't see any of the endless staff coming out of any of the rooms too, and the millions of questions it springs forth have your eyes squinting to see past the 2 main opening doors.

Bucky turns a corner quickly, and without realising you bump into his back, the rock-hard muscle acting like a brick to cushion your fall. You can’t help but let out a loud yelp, before Bucky turns and catches you from falling flat on your face.

You look up at him clearly flustered, and Bucky gazes down at you in interest, he begins to murmur something but thinks better of it, and slowly lets go of his grip on your waist.

Coughing, he straightens his suit, before motioning forward

“We’re here”

“Hmh? Where is here-” You say

“Oh”

You look towards the expansive dining room, fitted with leather couches surrounding a cast stone fireplace connected to a brick stone kitchen, an iridescent chandelier hangs from the tall ceilings, looking as if diamonds were dripping from above, and the halo of a sparkle glints over the both of you and you can't help but gaze in awe.

“Gorgeous isn't it?” Bucky says, and you glance at him watching the way the chandelier cuts the sunlight so it breaks across the dining room.

It was beautiful, despite being in a room that was in a house of violence, it was the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

“Bucky? I thought you already emptied out my kitchen” Calls a voice from the kitchen

Bucky turns towards the voice, a smile for the first time appears on his face and he walks up with you trailing behind.

“You’re still here? I thought Steve gave you the rest of the week off?” Bucky says, and as you walk past the expansive dining room you see a woman dressed in a dirty apron, wiping down a pristine marble countertop that Bucky leans on.

Pots and pans hang from high above the centre block, glinting in a perfect steel arrangement, long panned windows filter light in from the manicured lawns and an array of shelves and creme cabinets line the kitchen. A double burner oven is situated against a grey stone wall, and low-hanging lantern lights are hung from above. David would have loved cooking in this kitchen, that is all you can fathom as you gaze across the opulent space.

You are too fazed to take notice of the conversation happening beside you, until the kind woman looks towards you, cocking her head, her hazel eyes gaze you up and down, taking notice of your strange attire.

“And who is this?”

“One of Steve’s friends came here to get her something to eat but if you're leaving, just know your kitchen is in great hands” Bucky smirks towards the woman, who shakes her head reverently.

“Oh absolutely not, he burnt soup once, goddamn soup!” The woman scolds, a frightened expression taking over her face as she widens her eyes at you.

You can't help but let out a giggle, she was nice, this woman, dark auburn hair braided into a fishtail cascades down her back, her cheeks full as her big brown eyes smile at you.

“Hey!, it was one of those artisan ones alright, screw me for trying to follow a recipe online” Bucky replies, rolling his eyes at the woman as he tries to argue his side to you

“It’s soup Bucky, you put it in a pot and let it heat up” You reply, shaking your head, the woman looks up at you swiftly, a look comes over her face and she nods.

“By your clothing, I can see you are a curator of the kitchen as well?” The woman replies

You look up at her surprised, “Oh no, I’m,-I’m just a waitress”

“Well does the waitress have a name?” She replies

You hadn't had to introduce yourself for much of your life, your name and entire identity stolen and curated by your husband until he was the one introducing you, and now, the sound of your voice feels foreign on your tongue.

“A pretty name for a pretty lady, my name’s Katerina, but just because you're a friend of a friend you can call me Kat. So what would ya like darling?” She says

“Oh, no” You take notice of the recently wiped down and cleaned tabletops

“It’s alright, you've already cleaned up everything and I'm not that hungry, besides Bucky promised to show me around the Manor '' You reply, wiping a hand down to iron out the wrinkles in your work shirt.

“I did?” Bucky replies, and you turn your head, pleading with him to go along with it

“Oh yeah, um, I’ve got to get my Vitamin D you know” Bucky coughs, wincing as he digs his hands into his dress pants.

Kat looks between the both of you, a knowing smile on her face as she nods,

“Oh, I know you'll be here a while.'' She replies, before you both bid your goodbyes and head out through the French doors and onto the stone steps of the entryway of the Manor.

“You really made me lie in front of Kat? What do you think this is? You know I don’t answer to you, and Steve told me to make sure you eat something, especially since last night-” Bucky scolds, before cutting himself off at the mention of your embarrassing

“You know about last night?” You mumble, the burn of embarrassment crawls up your chest as Bucky shifts his gaze to you in guilt

“Parts alright? It was late at night when Steve found you at that bar and it was getting..I just knew I had never seen Steve so, so..” Bucky trails over, shifting his gaze from your eyes.

“So what?” You reply, Bucky was about to tell you something about Steve, specifically last night and every inch of you wanted to know what it was.

“Forget about it” Bucky replies, and you shake your head defiantly.

“No, no I won’t, ever since that day Steve walked into my diner, I’ve been doing this blindfolded dance, spinning around the truth but never being told anything” You reply, challenging Bucky.

Bucky pulls his tongue from his cheek, eyes trailing the manicured garden of the front lawn before looking down at you.

“He was silent. He didn’t say anything the entire ride back, just motionless. And I know Steve has that stone face going on, but honestly? It was like he was thinking, plotting something in that mind of his, and he didn't stop until you were taken to your room and tucked in, hell he didn't stop until we both walked into those office doors”.

You look down at your hands, twirling the old copper band around your index. Thinking? Thinking? You didn't have a clue how to read Steve, let alone know what he could be thinking of all things.

“What does that even mean?” You reply

“It means Steve is deeper in this than he thinks he is,” Bucky replies.

You catch your tongue before you reply with what automatically pops into your head,

If Steve was in this knee-deep, you were entirely swallowed.

Your eyes catch a light shining from the corner of your peripheral vision, over the wall overgrown with ivy.

“I wasn’t lying before,” You say

“Hmph?” Bucky asks, clocking his eyebrow

“Take me there” You reply, pointing towards the wall towards the back of the Manor.

“You mean the abandoned garden?” Bucky scoffs, shaking his head

“If it’s abandoned then no one will know we’re there, right?” You argue

Bucky narrows his eyes, but reluctantly agrees, walking down the steps in long strides as you run after him to catch up.

You both walk along the expansive gravel driveway, the piercing gaze of Steve from the office window above follows the both of you as you venture through the spiny trail that leads to the garden hidden beyond the large hanging evergreen trees that grew along all over the grounds.

Almost losing your balance once or twice, you finally make it through the overgrown foliage, following the stone trail that soon crumbled into the dark dirt floor. Bucky steps over a broken step, before unlatching some kind of bolt and shoving a rotten gate open, breaking the vines that had once grown on the wood.

You walk through the opened gate, Bucky following close behind, and the shrubbery opens up to a clearing. Large evergreen trees like the ones near the Manor surround the open land, however, a different kind of tree stands sky high, and you can’t stop yourself from walking up to one, and feeling the maroon bark rough against your fingers.

You close your eyes and it comes to you,

Redwood oaks.

Times when you would think hard enough, the silhouette of skyscraping trunks, and deep green leaves would cloud your vision, and when you lean your head forward you can almost smell your past. It is beautiful and strange and it hurts just as much. You can’t find yourself anymore, you've resigned yourself to that, but these thousand-year-old trees make you feel more connected than ever.

You want to climb into it and let it consume you. Sleep until you woke up and you knew who you were. It’s strange, the tree reminds you of Steve somehow, like you've been here with him before and it's hitting you like deja vu.

Something has gifted between the both of you, between you and Bucky too, you noticed it today when he spoke to you rather than through you. He didn't have that unsure expression anymore like he didn't fully trust you, and you don't know whether it was because of Steve or because of last night.

The clearing is almost a hill, and you can see fields of honey-coloured wheat and grass cascade into hills as you look beyond the tall trees. You can make out the backbones of where some sort of wooden shelter or structure once stood, now all that was left was a pile of rotting wood and leaves.

“Why is this place abandoned,” You say, it was gorgeous and let in the sun in just the right way for it to be reflected from the trees and shower the clearing with a honey glow, but it was hidden. And all hidden things were hidden for a reason.

“Don't know, it's been in Steve's family for generations, rented out to a couple people and then sold to a family in the mafia. Until Steve bought it back, it seems like this used to be where some sort of sheltered seating area once stood” Bucky replies, digging his shoe into the dirt.

“Yeah well it seems like someone’s put it to good use” You reply, noticing a small hardwood sculpting table fitted next to a workbench, a small but well-built wooden gazebo shelters the workspace, and you want to step forward but something tells you that place is sacred.

A sound comes out of Bucky and when you turn your head, he looks towards the gazebo like he knows who it belongs to. It hits you that he probably does, being the eyes that see all in the place anyway.

“This place yours or something?” You reply, and Bucky looks towards you in surprise like he forget you were there.

“Hmp? No, not me necessarily, but I think I know who” Bucky murmurs, his eyes trailing back to Manor fixating on Steve's office and you have to swallow the laugh that erupts at the assumption.

“Steve? If Steve was to have a hideout behind his Manor it would be for a guillotine, not an easel” You reply.  

You look towards the Manor and even though your vision only catches the pitched roof peeking through the dark pine trees you don’t doubt by the feeling crawling up your arm that Steve is watching you too.

“Steve, he's done something but, he's- he's a good man” Bucky replies, turning a rock onto its smooth side between his hands

“Oh yeah? Just like my husband is? I’m starting to figure out good men don’t need to say they're good men” You retort

Bucky shakes his head, turning the rock between his hands before tossing it into the shrubbery.

“You’re husband, he's done things you can't even imagine, he is the farthest from Steve, he's the farthest that Steve could ever be” Bucky replies with a heated tone.

For some reason that statement sent a burn down your stomach, in some sick way, you felt it was your responsibility to protect your husband's honour and name in front of Bucky, but it disappears when you realise you're the one who had run across the country to escape the very man Bucky loathes.

“I know the things he's done alright? I’m not that oblivious”

“I’m sure you aren't, Steve wouldn't go through all this trouble for someone who isn't..smart. But what you know about your husband is only what he's allowed you to see, in this life, there's so much that goes between looks and eyes,”

“Steve, it's this life that's changed him, changed all of us, swallowed him up until we couldn't even recognise each other. God I wish you could have seen him before, he was so carefree, ran like the wind couldn't even catch him. Your husband, evil like that is born in you, encoded into your DNA until you know nothing else" Bucky replies

“How do you expect me to believe that about him if you leave me in the dark all this time? You say Steve is a good man, well then tell me how” You reply

Bucky grinds his teeth, his jaw working as he weighs the metaphorical pros and cons of letting you in, and telling you things you he doesn't doubt Steve hasn’t. It was strange, Bucky felt it was wrong for you to be in this agreement with Steve so blindly, Steve had told him he wanted to protect you, but how can he say that when you don't even know what he's protecting you from?

With a gruff sigh, Bucky turns his neck to face you, delving into one of the main, if not the entire reason Steve is the way he is, and of course it had to be connected to you.

“About a decade or so ago, Steve was in love with a woman, she was everything to him, his breath, his bones, his love, she owned it all. Now it was about the time when Steve was ordained to take over from his father, it was a tradition since the Rogers planted their foot in the underworld, and it was once Steve's father did not take it lightly. Taking over meant your entire life would be dedicated to this throne, you would live, breathe and eat business, and for Steve, what he lived for was her.” Bucky shifts so that his gaze moves from the Manor. And like he's ashamed to be telling you this, to let the stark demeanour of Steve crack.

Bucky chuckles in the sort of way that wasn’t out of humour, your eyes strain as you peer at him, watching him scratch his jaw and tussle his brown locs free from their curls.

“Steve’s father could sense his weakness before it even started, I guess he thought Steve would realise what was at stake, the responsibilities that he had to honour as part of this family. That week before his coronation, Steve refused his father in front of an entire dining room of men. He refused to let go of her in exchange for his marriage to the throne. Told all of them that he was going to marry her and run off. And I still don't know if it was a show of discipline or plain evil, but Steve never got that chance” Bucky says.

“What do you mean?” You reply, your confused expression turning grim as you notice the bleak look on Bucky's face.

“She was- she was murdered that very next morning” Bucky replies, his eyes returning to you, as you whip your head back to stare at him in horror.

“Your husband, was paid by Steve’s father to murder his fiance” Bucky replies after a beat, your breath leaves your chest as you stare at him in disbelief, hands grasping the edges of your apron as you wait for the punchline, and Bucky stares at you in anguish as you realise there isn't.

You don't know what sounds leave your mouth, just the look of Bucky’s face tears you away from his gaze and the tears glide down your neck. You don’t bother to wipe them, you don't doubt there is more anguish to come, more revelations that will have your head spinning, more secrets that were kept from you.

“Hey, hey, look at me” Bucky replies

“I can’t, I didn’t tell you this for nothing alright? I can’t have you leaving here teary-eyed, you told me you were strong yeah? So be strong. Your husband is a murdering psychopath, he has been since he was a teenager, this mercenary job was done to get his foot in this business, and now you're all muddled up in it too. And Steve, he doesn’t want what happened to her to happen to you” Bucky replies, squeezing your arm to shake you back to the present.

“But why? Why would Steve’s father do that?” You reply

Bucky stares off into the curving hills of wheat and grass, shaking his head before replying

“It was Steve’s obligation, it had been since he was conceived, Steve's father thought he gave him a life free of responsibilities while growing up in that town, he didn't think that recklessness would follow him to Brooklyn”.

“Town? What town” You ask, and this time Bucky avoids your gaze, whispering incoherent obscenities under his breath

“That is something only Steve can tell you, me and Steve grew up together in Brooklyn during our teenage years. That place was something from before even that, before even me”. Bucky replies

You nod as you stare at the river that swirled across the Manor grounds, the shock of your husband's role in Steve’s becoming the invisible stone-faced don he was now didn't fully hit you yet. It was like you were numb, forced to put on a brave face in front of Bucky, who had trusted you enough to tell you about Steve.

Steve.

The man who you had believed conned his way into your life, and tricked you into a deal you didn't agree to now seemed different to you, you can’t fathom how a man like that, a man so instilled in the traditions of this world once defied it. Steve had once been so in love he was ready to disown his father's own expectations of him, and yet in the end it had gotten her killed, and it had left him seated on the very throne he despised.

“We should probably head back, lord knows what Steve would say if he knew you were still here” Bucky replies, pulling out a cigarette from his suit breast pocket, and flicking open a metallic silver lighter encrusted with the Rogers family heirloom.

The amber light that ignites the bud elicits a strange feeling that litters goosebumps across your body, it reminds you of a burning photograph, left to ashes and soot. You can smell the stench of it too, and Bucky watches you carefully as he clasps the lighter back into his pocket, nodding to the trail you had just come from.

Your mind is too preoccupied to remember walking back to the Manor, or even sliding into the car door Bucky had opened for you. Your mind circled back and forth between the answers Bucky had muttered under the sweet wisp of the morning breeze and the millions of questions that were met with the same silence and face of neutrality that Steve wore.

There was so much that you didn’t know, it hadn't hit you before, but it was so frighteningly obvious now. You were still the same foolishly naive girl that you had been 10 years ago, except this time, if Bucky had been right, you weren't being robbed of your entire autonomy.

You couldn't deny that since you had arrived in Brooklyn, you felt a strange pull that led you to Steve, you felt it the first time he walked into the diner, and although it was crowded by fear then, you can feel it in all its entirety now. For some strange reason, you hoped what Rumlow had said was just another thread of lies he had made you unravel, you hoped to god for Steve’s sake that all it was, was a childish attempt at getting out of babysitting.

You had steered your mind clear from falling down the rabbit hole of what else it could be, and the sinking feeling that begins to unfurl in your stomach now has you pinching yourself awake,  and forcing yourself to stare through the tinted car windows. You watch the blur of the pine trees crowding the curving roads and Bucky’s incessant tapping of the steering wheel over-stimulate your senses, resting your head on the window.

Perhaps Steve knew a thing or two about betrayal, and from the same man that had made you run halfway across the country.

[wandagcre]

Small thought, what would mob boss sam react/do if reader ever got seriously hurt by somebody or kidnapped? Sammy going on a rampage for sure 😭

oh for sure, i think this will basically unleash the most brutal and relentless form of sam. you being her most treasured and her safe haven, it's obvious how her sanity depends on you. she won't even let other people ogle or flirt with you by the slightest and chooses to give them an immediate death sentence. it only says that she'll have a horrifying episode from you being forcefully taken apart from her 😭

sam will most likely pull all her string of connections to be properly armed, storming to the place you're held in once she got it pinpointed, not even caring whether it was a trap or not, all because she's thinking of you. she'll be reckless enough to ignore her own consigliere's advice, bringing concern to the family she's in because she's risking a whole multitude of organization and operations within - just for one person.

ALSO i think (i haven't mentioned this but) it's perfect that tara is her consigliere because sam wouldn't trust anyone else other than her own blood who had experience the same tradition and upbringing as hers. after all, the rest of the family doesn't give a fuck about anything else but the work that is brought in and climbing up to the hierarchy. so she ends up listening. (much to everyone's relief!)

her sister would say something like "are you out of your mind? this carnage isn't doing anyone good - that includes you, sam. only one result comes out of this and that heavily implies your death. you're not immortal. (y/n) is barely going to survive either way with that headspace of yours!" and that ultimately pushes her to sober up because tara is right, sam needs to strategize - quickly and smoothly as she can. then, sam will make sure as hell to enjoy mutilating the person who kidnapped/hurt you.

[quirkle2]

protective

[alternate version under the cut for funsies]

[themorningsunshine]

Muffins

Pie - eyed over you - Chapter 3 

Mafia - Baker AU

Masterlist                        Series Masterlist

Previous Part 

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader

Summary - When a new baker in town refuses to abide by his rules, Bucky has no option but to go and take care of it himself. But nothing could prepare him for what stood on the other side. Nothing could prepare him for you.

Warnings - Mentions of murder, lots of fluff (gotta give the fluff before the angst for it to hurt more, yup I am evil), Steve and Sam being a menace 

Word count - around 6k 

a/n - So, after two delays, hell a lot of editing, and straight up changing the whole structure of this chapter and then combining it with another (hence the length), it’s finally here. Thank you so much to all of you for putting up with me. Please let me know what you guys think about this. Your kind words keep me going. 

You placed the muffins in a tray for display before making a note in your diary to buy more chocolate chips when you go to the market on the weekend. 

Running a bakery all on your own is a difficult job but you wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world. Even though you were not a morning person, the prospect of coming here and baking made it getting up from the bed every morning a tad bit easier. 

As you heard knocks on the door, you frowned before looking up, there was still some time left before it was time to open up the bakery. 

But when your eyes landed on the figure standing outside the door, looking like a complete misfit in his dark clothes and sunglasses and surprisingly, a baseball cap covering his forehead, a pathetic attempt at being discreet, you can't help the way your lips turn upward and your heart flutters. 

He was here just yesterday and yet it felt like you were seeing him after too long. 

Get yourself together. 

It's just a crush, it'll go away. 

You wiped your palms on your apron before walking towards the door to open it. 

You gave him a teasing smile before saying, "You're at the wrong place. Baseball convention is another mile from here." 

He rolled his eyes before stepping inside the bakery, bending a little, the door a little too short for him. "Hello to you too, sweets." 

You chuckled before walking towards the counter as he took his usual seat. Everything felt like a routine. Engraved in your soul as if it had always been there. 

"Gracing this bakery with your presence two days in a row. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Maybe I just missed my sweets." He shrugged as if it was obvious. 

"Continue this and you are going to get diabetic." You remarked with a smirk. 

"Not the sweets I was talking about, but okay." 

The smirk immediately left your lips as you could practically feel your heart beat out of your chest. He didn't mean it. He's just teasing. 

But no matter what you think, you can't help the way the red color crept up to your neck at his words. 

Okay, this crush is getting out of hand. 

"So, how's work?" You say in an attempt to change the topic. 

He tenses at your words. You had asked him what he did, and he had replied that he was a mechanic. It was becoming more difficult for him to lie to you. 

But maybe, he won't have to much longer. 

He was pretty sure Walker was on his way to screw things up. 

That son of a - 

"Earth to James!!" Your voice moving and your palm waving in front of his face brought him out of his thoughts. 

"I asked how was work." You said with a frown. James always got weirdly uncomfortable when you asked about work. Maybe he didn't want to talk about it, but you were no one to ask. 

"Oh, it's been fine. You know, the usual." 

"Yeah, yeah. Steve is a dorky idiot and Sam is an annoying prick. I know." You said imitating the words he had said to you not a long time ago. 

Bucky chuckles. Telling you about Steve and Sam was easier. Maybe sharing something about him which wasn't a lie, made him feel less guilty. 

He knew this was wrong. 

He was creating a web of lies that you will find out one day.

But Bucky Barnes wasn't a good man and he would take whatever time he has got before the inevitable happened. 

Which wasn't going to be today. 

He wasn't going to let Walker ruin this.

He will just sit there, hiding half of his face with the baseball cap. It would be easy. It wasn't like Walker would expect to see him here anyways. 

He was just here to make sure that he didn't hurt you. 

The both of you striked a conversation just like usual and you immediately felt better. You knew it was going to be a great day. Had started off on the best possible note, atleast.

The clock striked eight before you knew it and you got up from your chair to flip the sign at the bakery. 

"Why don't you hire someone to help you?" James asks, sipping his coffee. 

"Why, you're looking for a job?" You teased him with raised eyebrows. "Job at the garage doesn't pay enough for your baseball conventions?" 

He rolled his eyes. "When are you gonna let this one go?" 

"I think… never." 

He chuckled before asking again, "But, seriously, sweets, why not get a helping hand?" 

" 'Cause I am selfish." When he narrowed his eyes, you continued. "I know this sounds weird, but I don't like it when anybody else cooks the food. It's just never good enough." 

"So, why not hire someone to deal with the customers?" 

"That's literally the best part of the job." You half exclaimed. "People telling you whether they liked the sweets or not is the best part, James. Almost as good as getting to eat all the leftovers." 

James chuckled before setting his coffee mug down. "There is no pleasing you." 

You shrugged before walking behind the counter to get everything ready for the morning rush you were sure was about to walk through the door any moment now. 

When a few people came in, some regular customers and some students hoping to get in some caffeine to start the day, you saw as James involuntarily tensed. 

Bucky watched the front door with focused eyes as minutes ticked by. He knew Walker will be here any minute now. 

And he was proven right as he saw John Walker opening the door of the bakery and walking in with a smug look on his face, shoving away whoever came in his path. 

Bucky wanted nothing more than to pull him out of here, away from you and this warm place but he couldn't do that. There would be consequences, which he normally wouldn't give a second thought to, but the real nuisance would bring questions. 

He watched as you greet him with the same grin on your face that you used for all your customers, saying in a soft voice, "Hey, what can I get you?" And Bucky can swear Walker doesn't even deserve to breathe the same air as you.

"Why not start by paying off?" Walker said with a tone harsh and loud enough that a few customers turned to see what was happening. 

You frowned your eyes in confusion, "I am sorry." You were still speaking in a calm, soft voice, trying your best to get whoever this man was to calm down. You didn't want a commotion so early in the day. 

"Walker." He said as if it was enough of an introduction before continuing, "And I think you have an idea of where I am coming from. You owe us." 

James watched as realization dawned on your face and you stood straighter, your smile turning into a forwn. "I don't owe anyone anything."

He leaned towards you, keeping his arms crossed on the counter, speaking with a smirk, "Don't try to act smart, baby doll. Pay up and no one gets hurt." 

He watches as you cringe at the nickname  and almost take a small step back, discomfort clear on your face. 

Bucky almost gets up from his chair, his first instinct to slit off Walker's throat with the knife he had tucked in his jacket. He would make it less messy too, but painful. 

Control, he isn't going to hurt her. 

"I am not going to pay you a single cent, Walker. So, why don't you take your ass out of my bakery and leave me alone?" As you speak, your hand inches towards the knife that you keep below the counter for situations like these. Even though you hoped you'd never have to use it, it was better to be prepared than sorry. 

John clenches his fist as his eyes bore into your skull, "Don't make this difficult. You don't know who you are trying to mess up with. The people I work with wouldn't blink an eye before dumping your body in a dumpster. Just pay every month and we leave you alone." 

"I have said it before and I'll say it again, I am not going to pay you to let me live." It's as if something switches inside you. The slight fear or discomfort that could be seen in your features is completely gone now. 

Bucky watches as Walker growls in impatience before reaching for his jacket pocket. 

Nope, not happening

"Listen to me, you little bitch - " 

Walker is cut off immediately when a larger figure stands between him and the counter. 

James shields you from him, obstructing his view. 

"Leave her alone." The sound is almost a growl. And if Walker hadn't been too preoccupied he would have noticed how familiar that sounded. 

"And who the hell are you?" He spat. 

Bucky looks down at him and watches as all the color is drained out of his face when he recognises him. 

"S - si "

"Leave her alone and if you show up around here ever again, it will be you in the dumpster, cut into more pieces than you can count." 

Fear is obvious on Walker's face, as he completely forgets the weapon he was reaching for, trying to get his senses to work, confusion evident on his face.

Before he can ask any questions, Bucky takes a step towards him, with sheer coldness in his eyes as if he could slit Walker's throat right now and wouldn't blink. 

You watch as the man - who had introduced himself as Walker- saunters out of the bakery with quick steps. 

You frowned your eyes at whatever had happened here. 

You weren't going to pay the mob any money, you knew that. But you also knew that you couldn't have overpowered that man, especially if he had a weapon hidden under there somewhere. 

"You didn't have to do that, James." You said softly, in an attempt to get his attention away from the door he was boring holes in. 

He turned back and you watched as his expression turned into the soft one you were so familiar with. 

You walked from behind the counter towards where he was standing before explaining, "He works for the mob. Trust me, you don't want to get involved with them." 

Bucky's breath hitches at that. How could he explain to you that he wasn't just involved with the mob?

"It's okay, sweets. They won't hurt me." That was some truth. They were never going to hurt him, and before Walker could utter a single word to anyone about the events of the day, he would be fired. Bucky would make sure of that. 

"I know." You sighed, looking down at the floor as if contemplating something. It was silent for a moment before you looked up, "Thank you, James. It does mean a lot to me." You said with a soft, grateful smile on your face and your hand reached out to his. 

"Anytime, sweets." 

A moment passed before anyone of you dared to move. Your hand was now brushing his arm in slight touches. 

You broke the silence, "Come on, have some muffins. They are on me." You said before turning back and walking towards the counter. 

Bucky had to stand there for a moment because his skin had suddenly started to feel cold and empty. Like it wasn't enough without your touch, before walking back towards the counter and standing right in front of where you were taking out some muffins on a plate. 

"So, Ms Feisty, something against the mob?" He said, trying desperately for his voice to sound joking. 

You shrugged while passing the muffins to him and turning to pour some coffee for yourself. "I am not going to pay them money just because everybody else does. Why the hell do I pay taxes?" 

"But the way you were standing, you don't just want to rebel, sweets. You hate them." He said, an emotion in his voice you couldn't really place. He prayed that that wasn't the case, that he had read the situation wrong and maybe you didn't really hate the mob. 

"Hate is a strong word, James. I - despise them." You reply before looking up at him to meet his eyes, but he looks away, almost as if looking at you right now would physically hurt him. 

"I mean, they aren't really that bad, right? It's not like I know a lot about them but I have heard they protect the city." He tries.

"Uh-huh. They are not good people. You remember that day when we met? When it was raining and I had lost my way, and you were there - "

"I remember the day we met, sweets." He interrupts. Every part of that day was engraved in his mind.

"Yeah, yeah right. So, that day I was coming back from a friend's house. She has a daughter, Ellie, about 5 years old." 

He hums, nodding his head, not sure where you were going with this. 

"Both of them were switching houses. Leaving their home, that they had built, to live in a one bedroom apartment in the not so respected area of the town. You know why?" 

He narrowed his eyes. 

"Because her dad was killed." You took a deep breath, trying to keep the rage from bubbling up to the surface. "A 5 year old lost her father, James. And why? Because of some stupid mob feud." 

"What was her dad's name?" He asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. 

"Jake" 

Bucky's moments halted as images came back to his mind's forefront. He had killed that man himself. Shot three bullets straight into his chest. He had felt no remorse then. That man was a traitor. Had joined hands  with the enemy, knowing very well what the consequences could be. 

He had felt no remorse then because he hadn't given a moment of thought to the people he might be leaving behind. It made his work easier. Pretending that there were no consequences to whatever they did. 

But now he could see the consequences. In the form of rage in your eyes at the tale and the hurt he felt in his chest, thinking about the girl. He knew how that felt. Being alone, and helpless. 

"She didn't deserve that. None of them did. Nobody deserves to lose somebody they love, James. But it hits the worst when it's unforeseeable. When the people who did it are out there in the world, as if their hands aren't tainted with blood, living their life and you can do nothing about it."  You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. Thinking about your friend and Elliot always brought you to tears. You tried to help them as much as you could, but there was only so much you could do. 

Bucky looks into your eyes and sees tears in the corner of your eyes. He wants to hold your hand, to comfort you, to tell you that they are going to be fine. But how could he, when his were the hands that were tainted with blood, that had taken the life of that man without a second thought. 

So, he just sits there, listening to you talk about the lady and her kid, even though each of your words is like a sword stabbed through his chest. 

When he knows you are fine, he takes his leave, bidding you goodbye before walking out and calling Steve. 

"Steve, I need you to do something." 

"What's up, Buck? Everything okay?" Steve replied in a concerned voice. Even after everything, his concern for his best friend never faded. 

"I am sending you some details of a lady and her kid. Send me the contacts of the person who bought their house." 

"Give me half an hour. But who are these people?" 

"They are going to be our responsibility, Steve." 

He cuts the call and sends a quick text with all the details he might need. 

He can't help but turn back towards the bakery to have one last look. He has made up his mind. He was going to tell you the truth. 

he didn't care if it meant you would hate him. There were many people in the town who despised him, what's one more?

But when he turns back and his eyes land up on you, handing a cup of coffee to a middle aged lady, talking to her with a softness unique to you. 

As if you can feel his eyes on you, you turn towards the window and as your eyes meet, your smile grows wider. A smile that's only reserved for him, he realizes. 

And he would have hated himself for how quickly his resolve fades away. 

But Bucky Barnes was not a good man. 

And maybe many people in this world did hate him, but he would be damned if you were one of them. 

He wanted this. The weekly bakery visits, the warmth, the sheer simplicity of it all, even if it was all this was ever going to be. 

And it was about damn time he got what he wanted. 

Why should he apologize for the monster he has become when no one ever apologized for making him this way?

Maybe, one day you'll find out the truth and hate him more for lying to you, but it wasn't going to be anytime soon. He will make sure of that. 

So, he straightens his coat and walks away from the bakery, choosing to not pay any mind to the inevitable doom that could leave the both of you shattered. 

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*

"James Buchanan Barnes" 

He turns back from what he is doing to find you, cross armed, shooting daggers at him. 

"How could you, James? It's like you're not even trying." 

He can't help the smile that finds its way to his lips at the way you look. Your christmas sweater that you had deemed "perfect" for the occasion and a scarf draped loosely on your neck, trying to look intimidating, just makes you look even cuter. 

You walk towards him and take the candy decoration from his hand, to place it exactly just an inch away from where he was going to, because it looked in your exact words, "more festive" 

Bucky just smiles at you as he watches you ramble more about Christmas decorations. 

When a week ago, he had heard you reminding Pietro that he had to come over to help you decorate, he had stepped in and offered his help. He was free that day anyways, he had told you. There was an international shipment that he had to sign off that day, but that could wait. 

When Pietro had shaken his hand and thanked him for 'saving him', he didn't understand, but now he did. You were extremely particular about how each and everything had to look for christmas and was not shy to tell the other person what a terrible job they were doing if it wasn't exactly the way you had wanted.

But if the cute pout on your face and the warmth that it caused in his chest was any indication, it was worth it. The cookies whose smell reached him even in the living room was just an added bonus. 

Right now, standing in the middle of your apartment, surrounded by incomplete decorations that signaled the arrival of a festival he wouldn't have cared the slightest about a year ago, being scolded by you for not hanging the canes correctly, he regretted nothing. 

3 hours and a lot of debates later, all of which you won, the house was finally decorated enough for the festival. 

"Here you go." You said, handing him a warm cup of coffee and placing a plate full of cookies on the table in front of him. It was your way of saying thank you. 

Bucky looks around your apartment. It's just above the bakery and much smaller than the mansion he lived in. But it felt different in a way he couldn't point out. 

A shelf filled to the brim with books standing in the corner, pictures adorning the walls, each telling a different story. Some soft music playing on the speaker, it was like a blanket of warmth stood over your house. A little messy, but beautiful nonetheless. 

His eyes then land on you, sitting across from him on the sofa, sipping your coffee with a warm, content look on your face, your scarf now lying on the table. 

As if you could feel his gaze, you turn back to look at him and your breath hitches in the throat at the way he is looking at you. 

It's as if the world could crumble around him and he wouldn't blink an eye. 

You can't get yourself to look away. So, you just raise your eyebrows, because you have suddenly forgotten how to breathe and if he didn't look away right now, you are not sure you will be able to survive longer. 

He just shrugs and turns towards his coffee, as if it was a natural occurrence. As if your whole world hadn't stopped spinning for a moment there. 

Bucky looks at you through the corner of his eyes and watches as red color creeps up to your neck and you try your hardest to not smile. 

He now recognises the feeling. 

Your apartment feels like home. 

And the next realization brings with itself questions and doubts he wasn't ready to answer. 

He wouldn't rather be anywhere else. 

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩

He clenches his fist as he drags his feet towards the bakery. 

It was pretty late. He knew that. 

But he just had to be there. 

He liked his work more often than not. The impending guilt and the danger aside, the reason that had initially brought him to this world still stood. 

It made him feel something. The adrenaline of each task, the satisfaction of seeing everything that belonged to his enemies burning down till there was nothing but smoke.  

The mafia world had welcomed the darkness that he had inside of him and made him one of their own, for which he will be eternally grateful. 

But for some time now, it hasn't been enough. 

The darkness that had surrounded and consumed him for so many years now was suddenly not enough. 

Something inside him changed. 

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he had thought twice before shooting that man today. The whispers inside him that asked him every time 'if there was any other way' had become louder now and even the noise of the bullets couldn't silence it. 

He knew what was happening. 

He was seeking the light.

And every single part of him knew that this could only end in disaster. In a fire that threatened to burn every single thing to the last piece. 

But that didn't stop him from taking the next step. Or the one after that. 

He was still walking to the one place that could silence away his thoughts and make it all go away. Like a moth attracted to a flame. 

Maybe this was selfish of him. Maybe he was tainting you with his darkness. 

He will think about that some other day. 

When the bakery comes into view, he realizes just how late it is. 

You would be about to close now. 

Maybe he could catch a glimpse before you retired for the night. It wasn't enough. It was never enough. But it had to do. 

As he reaches the bakery, he watches as the door slowly opens and a young boy steps out. 

He frowns before walking ahead, and his eyes almost widen with who he sees. 

"Peter, what are you doing here?" 

Peter looks up from the book he is currently holding and his eyes widen with fear at the figure who stands before him. 

"S - sir, I - I was just - " 

A voice from inside the bakery calls out to him. A voice Bucky recognizes all too well. 

"Peter, you forgot this." 

You step out of the bakery with a textbook in your hands as you hand it over to Peter. 

Peter opens his mouth to speak but then closes it. Too afraid about what was going to happen. 

You turn around and when your eyes land on James, your lips turn into a grin before you know it. 

"James, hi"

Peter's eyebrows shoot up as he looks between the both of you. You have a glint in your eyes as if you couldn't be happier by anything else and the man he had feared with everything he had for the last couple of years, had a softness to his features that made Peter wonder if he was somehow swallowed into an alternate dimension. 

"Hey, sweets." Bucky says almost on instinct, before turning towards the boy who is still looking at the both of them as if he just saw a dolphin flying in the air. 

You probably notice it too, because you then point towards Peter before saying, "James, this is Peter, and Peter, this is James Barnes." 

"James?" Peter says almost on instinct, confusion evident in his voice. 

"Wait, you know him?" You ask, looking between the both of them now. 

Peter looks at Bucky and almost crumbles with fear by the warning glare he is shooting towards him. But there is something else there too. Something, he can swear he has never seen in the mob boss' eyes. 

There is fear in them. A tiny flicker of it. He fears the answer he is going to tell you. Whatever it was, it was too important for him. 

"No, no. I don't think we have met before." 

"Oh, okay." You say, confused as to what had just happened here. "All the best for the test and tell MJ I said hi," You give him an easy exit from a situation he was clearly uncomfortable in. 

You watch as a small blush spreads across his cheeks before he bids you goodbye and glancing at James once, takes his leave. 

"He is a nice kid." You break the silence after Peter walks away, out of earshot. "Pretty smart. I was helping him with his test tomorrow." 

Bucky looks back at you and shrugs in response. "Good for him." 

"By the way, it's closing time, James." You say with a teasing voice and he is relieved that you don't ask any further questions. 

"Come on, sweets. You could make an exception for your favorite customer." 

You roll your eyes before replying. "What about this? You help me clean up, and I get you something special I made today." 

"Help you clean up?" 

"Aww. The prince doesn't like to get his hands all dirty?" You smirk. 

"This special treat should better be worth it, sweets." He huffs before walking inside the bakery. 

You walk in behind him while giggling. 

__

"And that's it." 

You look at him with a smile and silently clap your hands together with an impressed look. 

If any of his men would see him right now, wearing an apron with a bunny on it, hands covered in flour, working in a bakery with soft music playing in the background, their eyes would pop out of their heads. But he couldn't care less. 

"Great job for a first timer, Barnes. You have earned yourself a serving of something special." 

Bucky smirked before replying, "Something special, you say?" He leans in and sends a wink your way. 

You roll your eyes before turning towards the kitchen, hoping that it wasn't evident how flustered you were.

You take out something from a box and place it on a plate in front of him. 

Bucky looked at it closely with a frown. It was clearly made of chocolate and was shaped like a dome. He could swear he had never seen it in your bakery before. 

"Come on, give it a try. If I wanted to poison you, I would have done it ages ago." 

He picks up one and after a moment of close inspection, takes a bite. 

As the taste of chocolate invades his senses, he moans and puts the whole into his mouth. 

You watch as his head falls back in delight. 

Once he is done, which is faster than he would have wanted, he says, "Sweets, that was the best damn thing I have ever had." 

You chuckle, "You say that every single time, James."

"And I mean it every single time." 

You just smile at him before putting another on the plate. 

As he devours that one quickly too, he inquires, "What is it called?" 

You smirk before replying, "James." 

"Yeah?" 

"James. That's what it is called." 

His eyes widen and he takes a moment to reply, "You named a sweet after me?"

"Well, technically, you were the inspiration for this." 

He frowns. "How so?" 

"Well, It's full of chocolate and exceptionally sweet. It's exterior is hard but its insides are so soft, they practically melt in your mouth." 

Bucky looks at you, baffled and you look away, unable to meet his eyes. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but is suddenly shushed by you. 

"That's my favorite song." You whisper, as if not wanting to obstruct the soft melody. 

Bucky listens to the sound coming from your phone.

Wise men say

"Only fools rush in"

But I can't help

Falling in love with you

He looks back at you and at the way you have a soft smile on your face, your features highlighted by the soft glow of the kitchen light. 

You look at him and with a teasing smile puts your hand forward, indicating to him to take it. 

He looks between your outstretched hand and your face with a frown.

"Dance with me." Your voice is so soft, he just can't get himself to say no. But, who is kidding? He will set the whole world on fire and watch it burn with a smile on his face if you asked him to. 

He slowly places his hand in yours as the music continues. 

Shall I stay?

Would it be a sin

If I can't help

Falling in love with you

The both of you stand in the middle of the kitchen, the moonlight sweeping its way through the windows. 

Everything is brightened in a warm glow but you know nothing will ever shine brighter than the way his ocean blue eyes do right now. 

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

One of his arms finds its way around your waist while the other holds yours. 

You place your free hand on his shoulder and he gently pulls you closer. 

The both of you stay like that for the rest of the song, swaying slowly to the music. 

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

You don't know who  leans first but before you know it, the distance between the both of you starts decreasing. 

You hold your breath and your gaze move from his eyes to his lips. 

You would be lying if you said you had never thought of this before, of how his lips would feel against yours, how he would taste like. 

This man had occupied your thoughts since the day you had met all those months ago and you were pretty sure he had no idea of the effect he had on you. 

Take my hand

Take my whole life, too

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

For I can't help

Falling in love with you

Just as the song is about to end and there's nothing but an inch of distance between the both of you, the door to the bakery was suddenly pushed open with a force and the sound of the bells invaded the comfortable silence that had covered the room in a blanket. 

The both of you took a sudden step away, and you needed a moment to calm your heart which felt like it was about to beat its way out of your chest, before looking up to see who it. was. 

You squinted as two men, one blonde and the other dark haired, stood at the door, looking comically too big, having no idea of what transcribed in the bakery before they had not-so-smoothly barged in. 

The blonde one speaks, breaking the silence, "I knew we'd find you here." 

You watch as he steps towards James, who looks at him with sheer annoyance. "What the hell are you doing here, punk?" 

The other man looks at you and forms a smirk before stepping towards you. "So, this is where you always sneak off to? I guess I understand why." 

James huffs in annoyance and with a sten face stops him, "Shut up, Wilson." 

You look between the men who looked like they were in a staring contest when realization hit you. "Steve and Sam?" 

All the men look at you at the same time and you feel like a deer caught in headlights before you stand up straighter reminding yourself that no matter how intimidating the situation was, this was your bakery. 

"And you must be y/n l/n. It's great to finally meet you, Ms l/n" Steve says, smiling. 

"Please, just call me y/n." 

"Or we could call you beautiful." Sam replies before stepping forwards, stretching his hand to take yours for a shake. 

You let out a chuckle before shaking his hand. "Y/n is fine." 

"What are the both of you doing here?" Bucky speaks up, shooting daggers at Sam, his fists clenched. 

"There's an emergency. We need to go." Steve replies, a serious expression adorning his face. 

Sam interjects them "What's the hurry? I have heard so much about this bakery. We could eat something before leaving." 

Bucky spats at him, "This bakery has closed, Wilson. Time's up. Get your butt moving." 

Sam pouts and you chuckle at the antics of these grown men, "Why don't you come here some other day, Sam, I have something that I think you'll like." 

Sam looks at you, a childlike smile replacing his pout, "I like her already." 

Bucky steps forward towards Sam, pulling him away. "Don't listen to him, sweets." 

Steve and Sam turn their head towards him so fast. you are sure they will get a sprain later. Sam raises his brows with a smirk on his face, while Steve looks at him with a smile on his. 

James then quickly bids you goodbye before pulling the both of them outside the bakery. 

Once they reach the car Steve and Sam had driven in, they both look at him with amused grins. 

"Back off, the both of you. What's the emergency?" 

Steve's expression turns serious as he replies, "Our shipment from Iran has been stopped at Morocco and they are refusing to comply." 

Bucky narrows his eyes at the information. Who would dare to stop their shipment and risk getting on his bad books? "Who is it, Steve?"

"It's Alexander Pierce." 

Bucky lets out a breath before looking in the direction of the bakery once more  and then turning towards Steve and Sam. 

"Get in the car. We need to leave right now. This is going to be a long assignment."

Next part

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