#mobster!steve rogers x reader

[holylulusworld]

Truth or dare

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x Wife!Reader

Side pairings: Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark x Pepper Potts

Characters: Sam Wilson, Sarah Wilson, Clint Barton, Peter Parker

Warnings: angst, Steve being an asshole, mentions of arranged marriage, strong female leads, crack, redemption

A/N: I wrote a hopeful ending. Not a fluffy one.

“Steve, why don’t you wear the blue suit? You know the one I bought some weeks ago. It’ll match the dress I’m going to wear tonight,” you look your husband up and down, smirking as he looks stunning in the suit he chose to wear.

“We won’t match,” Steve is grumpy tonight. He’s usually gentler and softer around you. “No ladies tonight. This meeting is about business and forming an even stronger bond. Things you don’t know shit about.”

“But-“ you frown deeply. “Pepper said she’ll be there. Natasha and Sarah will come. Darcy will bring her better half too.”

He sighs so deeply you fear he’ll stop breathing. “Fine. It’s a meeting for wives,” he waves you off with one flick of his wrists.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Steve?” you are confused as hell. “The ring on my finger means I’m your wife. I think I didn't get the memo we got divorced.”

“Our marriage was an arrangement to help your father out,” he bites back. His tone is filled with venom, and you flinch when he steps toward you. “Do you know why I agreed on this marriage?”

“My father was in trouble and had the money to get him out of said trouble. You wanted me in return,” you meekly reply. It’s the first time you don’t feel comfortable around your husband.

“No. I wanted to stop looking for someone I can fuck. I married you to have a warm place to put my dick. So, you can stop trying so hard to be a good wife. You are all I want. A warm body for me to use.”

You visibly flinch at the blow he just threw at you. That hurt. His words cut so deep you are not sure your heart is still beating.

Arranged or not. Your marriage was special to you. You cherished the bond you believed you have with your husband. Now he claims to not even love you.

It takes you a moment to push the tears away and keep the sob down your throat. You clear your throat and put on your best-faked smile.

“Well, then I can stop trying, Steven,” your voice is even, but inside you are dying. “You should’ve told me so much sooner. I wasted so much time on this marriage. What a shame.”

Steve watches you straighten the dress you are wearing. A dream of blue and silk. His favorite color.

You sigh deeply as you look down at your body. “This dress was fucking expensive, and I can’t return it. Maybe I can sell it on eBay or shit,” you shrug. “Some other women will kill for a second-hand designer dress like this.”

He swallows thickly as you kick off your heels and make your way toward the bathroom. “Have fun with your friends and allies. I hope Pepper is not too disappointed I’m not going to be around. We had plans. You know.”

You enter the bathroom and silently close the door. As you sink to the ground and cradle your face in the palms of your hands, Steve leaves the room.

He slams the door shut, and curses.

“How could I be so wrong? He only ever wanted to use me…”

“Hey, where’s your lovely wife?” Sam cocks his head to search the room for you. “Steve? Where is Y/N?”

“At home, where she can’t disturb business. She knows her place now,” your husband bites back. He scrunches up his nose and shrugs as Pepper and the other women gasp audibly.

“Punk don’t tell me that you took Rumlow’s comment to heart,” Bucky sizes his friend up. He frowns as Steve tells his best friend what happened tonight. “He said that you got soft to fuck with you. He was all over Y/N that night. She turned him down, you idiot!”

“Steve, no!” Sam runs one hand down his face, groaning loudly. “You got us in big trouble! My sister will murder you and me…maybe even all of us!”

Sam points at Sarah who already makes her way toward the other women in the room. Pepper’s head snaps toward Tony, and Natasha, well she opens her clutch to get a knife out.

“Oh-fuck! I won’t ever get laid ever again. Natasha will castrate all of us and make it look like an accident if she gets to know what you did,” Bucky almost whines when his wife and partner in crime stalks toward him.

Tony panics as his wife gets the gun she hides in her clutch out. “We are fucked guys,” he hiccups. “It seems like someone messed with Y/N!”

“It was him!” all men point at Steve. They take a step back and pray their wives won’t punish them for the shit Steve pulled. “We didn’t know.”

Clint starts sweating, he swallows audibly as his wife is ready to rip him a new one. “I swear, we didn’t have anything to do with this. Rumlow said that Steve got weaker and softer. He blamed Y/N for it.”

“Brock Rumlow is not one of us,” Natasha snaps at Clint. “What he says or does is of no interest to us. But—” she points her knife at Steve, “this bastard dared to hurt Y/N. So…we will hurt him.”

“Agreed,” Pepper smirks darkly. “Ladies…get him…”

“Do you remember when you married Y/N?” Natasha circles Steve like a lion waiting to pounce on their prey. “Didn’t she look beautiful in her wedding gown? All for you, you moron.”

“Yeah,” he splutters. “You have to understand, a man my stand can’t let a woman rule his life. I need to make sure no one damages my reputation. If not, people will think I'm easy prey. Just like my family and friends.”

“You’re not an easy target because your friends protect you,” Pepper snaps at Steve. “Because all of us are a family we protect each other. We welcomed Y/N into this family, and you hurt our sister.”

“Damn right,” Sarah slaps the back of Sam’s head. “Don’t you have anything to say to your friend, Sammy?”

“Steve…uh…maybe you should go home and fix things with Y/N?” Sam offers. “I bet she’s crying her eyes out right now.”

Tony rolls his eyes and groans loudly. “You’re not helpful at all, Wilson.”

“You may think you and your allies rule this world,” Natasha clicks her tongue. “You are dead wrong.” She sneers as Bucky, Steve, and Tony glare at her.

“We, the women behind all of you make sure no war breaks out. Do you know how often an afternoon tea with one of our enemies’ wives saved your ungrateful asses?”

Natasha slaps the back of Bucky’s head. “Because in the end, you are all just angry children trying to get a new toy. Rumlow’s fiancé will set him straight too. We called her, his mother, and every female family member we could reach.”

“Oh-uh…he’s fucked too,” Bucky chuckles. “At least he will go down with all of us.”

I’m going to experience a dry spell,” Tony sighs deeply. “Again…Thanks, Rogers. Thank you so very much for fucking with your wife.”

“You!” Sarah points at Steve. “You will go home and apologize to Y/N. If she sheds only one more tear because of you, you’re going to lose more than your reputation.”

“BALLS!” Pepper exclaims. “We will cut them off.”

“Along with your dick,” Natasha grunts. “Now, off and you better make things up to her.”

“Darling?” Steve silently tiptoes inside the mansion. He has a huge bouquet of roses in his arms. “Baby doll? Uh-I’m back home. Doll? Y/N?”

He sighs as you don’t run toward him. Usually, you would drop everything and run into his arms to pepper kisses all over his face. Or drop to your knees to get your hands on his dick. Depends on your mood.

“Sir, Mr. Rogers,” Peter, the youngest member of Steve’s organization stutters. “Mrs. Rogers retreated to one of the guest rooms.”

“What?”

“She said that you could have the bedroom and that you can visit her when you feel the need…” Peter’s face turns crimson as he must tell his boss about all the things you told him. “Marriage duties…uh…Sir…please don’t make me say it.”

“Fuck’s sake, Rumlow,” Steve grunts. He pushes the roses into Peter’s hands. “Put them in a vase and bring them to my wife. Tell her to come back to the bedroom.”

“Sir. I think…”

“I don’t pay you to think,” Steve yells now. “She will come back, or I’ll make her come back. It’s up to her.”

“Sir…I think you should…”

“One more word and you can look for a new job.”

Steve storms off. He’s fuming. There he was, believing you lie awake, waiting for him to come home and make things up to you. But no. You moved out of your shared room to be a brat…

“Mrs. Rogers, good morning,” one of the maids' chirps. “Do you want to make breakfast for Mr. Rogers again?” She smiles softly.

In silence, you pass your husband sitting at the kitchen counter without even looking at him.

“No. Someone thinks that I should stop trying to be a good wife. I’ll go for an apple. You can ask Mr. Rogers if he wants breakfast this morning.”

You open the fridge to get a bottle of water. Steve flinches as you slam the door shut. He watches you grab an apple and leave the kitchen before he can even say a single word.

“Sir, do you want breakfast?” the maid meekly asks. She doesn’t know what happened between you and your husband. But she knows it’s better to duck your head and stay out of Steve Rogers’ business.

“No. I’m already fed up,” he grunts and gets up from the stool, knocking it over. “Take the day off. All of you. I need some time with my wife…”

Steve enters the living room, huffing as you pump up the volume. Lily Ellen yells ‘Fuck you’ at him, and he makes a face.

“We need to talk.”

You ignore his presence, even shy away when he sits next to you on the sofa.

“Doll, look at me.”

You don’t look at him. It hurts too damn much to look at the man you believed is an angel when in reality he’s a cruel demon.

“I want to talk to my wife,” he groans as you shut off the TV and get up from the sofa. You don’t speak, or at least look at him.

He’s left behind with fond memories of the last time you watched a movie together. You were seated on his lap and played with his hair.

Steve tried to convince you to watch the movie but you crawled off his lap to open his fly. You got his dick out to play with little Steve while he struggled to focus on the movie.

He closes his eyes, basking in the memory of your pouty lips when you insisted on sucking his dick. Steve gave in. As so often. You only had to bat an eyelash and he caved in.

“Sir, Mr. Rogers," Peter pokes his head inside. He feels his cheeks heat up as Steve cups his crotch. “Do you want me to drive Mrs. Rogers?”

“Drive…what?” Steve realizes what he was doing and drops his hand from his crotch as he stares at Peter. “What are you talking about?”

“She said something about lawyers."

Steve hurriedly steps inside the guest room, watching you undress. “What are you doing? Doll, I tried to talk to you and now you are…”

“What the fuck? Can a woman not change clothes without you creeping on me?” you snap at Steve. “Get out!”

“You love it when I watch you undress.”

“I made you believe I do,” you chuckle darkly. “I’m damn skilled at faking things. Aren't I?" you ask as you glance at Steve. “All these times I pretended you made me cum or turned me on? I should get a fucking Oscar.”

“Doll, don’t go there,” he warns.

“I had to play with my toys before you came home to get wet for you. I never wanted to marry you. And I never had feelings for you.”

Steve knows you are lying. The way you tend to his wounds after a fight, gentle yet determined tells a different story. You always worried about him.

After a particularly hard day, or rather after you tended to a deep gash on his lower back you wouldn’t let him out of sight for a week. You clung to him like you were glued to his hips.

“Why not? All you want from me is a dripping hole, right?” you wrinkle your nose to push the tears away. “I’m nothing to you.”

He steps closer to you and places his hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, I’m sorry for the stupid things I said. You know that I only tried to protect my reputation.”

“I will go on a short vacation with Pepper, Sarah, Darcy, Natasha, and Okoye. If you need to get off in the meantime, use your hand, Steven. I think you’ll remember how to jerk off by the end of my vacation.”

“Vacation…what?”

He gasps when you shove his hand off your shoulder. “If you would excuse me now, I need to pack a few things for my little getaway…”

Steve watches you storm out of the guest room. He huffs and curses his damn pride. If only he didn’t listen to Brock Rumlow.

“I didn’t have sex for three weeks thanks to you, Steve!” Bucky complains loudly. “Natasha and I do it daily. Now. Nothing. Not even a handjob!”

Tony nods in agreement. “Same.”

“Don’t ask me,” Clint grumbles. “I will never see a boob in my life.”

“Our wives are officially on strike,” Tony buries his face in his hands. “Pepper said they won’t do shit for us, or with us if you don’t make things up to Y/N.”

“Do something, punk! I want to have sex in this decade again!” Bucky threatens. “If not, I’ll make your life living hell!”

“How? She refuses to talk to me, Buck! I tried to apologize, and she decided to go on vacation with your wife and the others. I tried,” Steve replies.

“Try harder then, punk.”

Steve gives his friend a stern look before deciding it’s time to get his wife back. He won’t back down now. “I’ll get my girl back. No matter what!”

“Steven Grant Rogers! Why are you here, in my room covered in blood?” you put your hands on your hips as you drink your husband’s appearance in. “Why are you hurt?”

His tie hangs losely around his neck. Someone ripped his shirt open. Steve’s hair is a mess, and his face had to endure a few punches at least.

“I got into a fight with security at the spa,” he huffs. “They are damn tough for security guards at a spa! I told them I want to see my wife.”

“Well, it’s their job to keep creeps out of here,” you sass. “I see now they did a poor job of keeping you out.”

“I’m not some creep, Y/N.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and gives you a puppy dog look. “I came here to apologize again. You know I didn’t mean a thing I said that night.”

“You sure about that? Because it sounded like you are damn serious to me that night,” you quip and turn your back on Steve. “Maybe you should file for divorce. A hooker is cheaper than a wife.”

“I was wrong,” he moves toward you. Steve sighs as you shy away again. “One thing wasn’t a lie.”

You sniff, ready for another blow.

“You are all I need," he says as he wraps his arms around your waistline. “I would’ve helped your father a thousand times to get you, doll. You know that. Deep inside your fractured heart, you know that I love you.”

“I’m not sure about it.”

“How about I reassure you that I love you, Y/N?” he offers. “I’ll take a whole month off and we will fly to Paris just like you always wanted.”

“I’ll consider your suggestion,” you won’t give in so easily. Steve hurt you deeply. Even worse. He made you feel unwanted, unloved, and worthless. “For now, all I can offer is to fix the mess you call your face.”

He grins. “That’s a start…”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[kaunis-sielu]

A Payment: 2

“Ward.” His voice is low and commanding. Your father gives him a nod and then Steve’s cool gaze slides over your brother and directly to you. “I was told you’d already signed. Did you do so of your own free will?”

“Yes she did.” Your father answers for you and Steve’s eyes turn to ice.

“I don’t believe I was talking to you.” He says coldly and your heart races, that gaze seems to thaw when he looks your way again, “Did you sign of your own free will?” You don’t say anything, you feel like he’s not the type to lie to but if you don’t then Lance will be killed and you won’t allow that. So you go into the technicalities. You didn’t sign it at all so therefore you didn’t sign against your will you didn’t sign at all. You give a little nod, yes, you refused to sign of your own free will. Steve glances over his shoulder at the other man he’d brought into the room with him. He mutters something and the other man nods.

“So you’ll just need to sign to make everything official.” Your father says and Steve’s gaze hardens as it turns back to him.

“I know how it works. We’ll have a trial period of three months. Buck go get her things.”

“Mack show him where her things are.” Your father says and Mack and this Buck guy that Steve had brought goes with Mack and both your father and Grant glare at Steve fury obvious on their faces. Steve looks bored and you can’t help but be a little impressed with how truly unbothered he looks. Buck comes back into the room with your suitcase behind him.

“Alright, I’ll take this and Darlin’ you can come with me.” He says to you and you start at the nickname. He offers you his hand but Grant steps in front of you before you can move. Is he going to save you? Is he going to stop this?

“What about our deal? If you don’t sign does it still hold?” Oh, yea there it is. That tracks, he’s only worried about himself.

“You’re in the way. Move.”

“Does our deal hold?”

“I won’t ask you again.” Steve warns and when Grant glares at him Steve sighs then punches Grant in the face. Grant hits the floor with a heavy thud and a groan. “When I tell you to get out of my woman’s way, you’ll do to listen.” He offers you his hand again and you look at him in surprise. He just punched your half-brother and the heir of SHIELD because he didn’t move out of your way? You tentatively take his hand and he guides you, not around where Grant is on the floor but over him, and then to the door. Lance follows you, like he always has but Steve’s Buck stops him.

“Not a chance.” He growls with a hand on Lance’s shoulder, “You stay.”

“He’s mine.” You interrupt, you’re not willing to go without Lance.

“I don’t want one of your father’s men in my, our, home.” Steve says and you shake your head,

“He’s not my father’s he’s mine.”

“I can pay my dues to Ward, but I’ve been on her six since she was thirteen. No one will protect Queenie better than I will.” Steve eyes Lance warily, it’s a tense few moments but when Steve looks at you he sighs softly then says,

“Pay your dues, Bucky go with him.”

“If Ward doesn’t accept?” Buck or Bucky, you’re not sure what his name is at this point, asks.

“He will.” Steve says and the two men disappear back into the room where you know your father is.

“Why don’t we go out to the car. So we can talk?”

“I’m not leaving without Lance.” You argue pulling your hand from his grip and folding your arms over your chest.

“Is there more going on there that I should know?” Steve asks with narrowed eyes,

“Gross. No.” You tell him glancing anxiously over your shoulder when voices get raised behind the door.

“Just needed to check. I expect your loyalty.”

“As long as I have yours. I will not be your pathetic little wife waiting at home while you’re off fucking other women.” Steve lets out a bark of laughter, that’s not the reaction that you were expecting.

“Deal.” He gives you a smirk, “Should we seal the deal with a kiss?” He asks raising an eyebrow at you and you scowl at him.

“You will not touch me.”

“No, I won’t,” he agrees before taking two steps closer to you, “Not until you’re begging for me to.” He purrs in your ear and your heart drops into your stomach then bounces around in there, holy shit. He steps out of your space again and the door swings open behind you. When you look you’re horrified to see that Bucky is supporting Lance who is bleeding from a gash on his shoulder.

“What the fuck happened?” Steve snaps as you rush to aid Lance.

“Call Bobbi.” He grunts as he tries to shove you away, “Bloody.”

“I don’t give a shit. What happened?”

“Ward was less willing to give up a man than we’d hoped.” Bucky says

“Grant or my father?” You ask as you pull your phone out of your purse at your hip and unlock it to call Bobbi.

“Grant.”

“I’m going to kill him.” You sneer dipping out from under Lance’s arm and storming back toward the door. Before you can get there an arm wraps around your waist and pulls you against a large, firm body.

“Down Kitten. I’ll take care of it but now isn’t the time.” Steve’s voice is low in your ear and you contemplate throwing an elbow into his gut to get out of his grasp, “Lance keeps saying something about Bobbi, call Bobbi.”

“His wife. They’ve probably threatened her, again.” You admit before allowing him to lead you away from the door again. Lance and Bucky are already out of the house so you follow quickly as you put your phone to your ear.

“Bob?”

“Yea?”

“Lance paid his dues to my father. I’ve been um, I’m moving back to New York City and it sounds like Grant has threatened you again.”

“Lance told me that your dad had basically sold you. Do I need to plan a murder?”

“Not yet.” You tell her glancing over at Steve who is on alert as you walk from the house to his car. You can see Lance and Bucky already in the front seat and when Steve pulls the door open and gestures you into the back you slide in without argument. “You want to talk to him?”

“Please.”

“Lance, Bobbi is on the phone.” You tell him passing him your phone. After he assures her that he’s okay and that you’re all going to be moving back to New York City he tells her he loves her then hangs up and passes you back your phone.

“You didn’t live in New York?” Steve asks, you see that Lance has his coat off and a bandage wrapped around his arm where the cut is. That was fast.

“No, I was down in Boston. I have been for the last seven years now.” You see Bucky’s gaze meet Steve’s through the rear view mirror.

“It seems that you and I need to have a frank conversation about everything once we’re at our home.” This is the second time he’s done that, called his home yours too. You don’t disagree though, you do need to have a frank conversation with him starting with what exactly you were doing here.

You ride in silence to Brooklyn, when you pull up to his home you’re astounded. It’s an old Victorian home painted white with a light blue trim. There’s a large wrap around porch and some large trees around the property.

“This is your home?” You ask in awe.

“This is our home.” He corrects, you can hear the pride in his voice. Bucky pulls the car into a disconnected and surprisingly large garage. There are other vehicles in the garage a SUV, a couple of motorcycles, an ATV, and what looks like a snowmobile. Steve opens his door then climbs out of the car and reaches a hand back in for you. You don’t need help getting out of the car but for some reason you take his hand.

He tucks your hand into the crook of his arm then escorts you into his home punching a code into the door you look away and he chuckles softly,

“You should know the code to get into our home Sweetheart.” He says leading you inside.

“You’re going to let me leave the house without you?”

“As long as it’s safe. If there’s a threat then no, not alone.” When you look up at him in surprise he frowns down at you, “Did your father hold your prisoner?” You give him a look that practically screams ‘duh’, you’re here. “Is that why you agreed to marry me? To get away from him?”

Tag list:

@andahugaroundtheneck @connie326 @also-fangirlinsweden @lumar014 @loving-life-my-way @pagina16ps @emdying @dumblani @valsworldofcreativity @blackwidownat2814 @sky0401 @dontbescaredtosingalong @abschaffer2

[chloe-skywalker]

5 Months - Bucky Barnes Mob!AU

Mob!Bucky x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,995

Summary: Bucky and Y/n had fling, one night stand at least she thought it was a one night stand. Bucky on the other hand has been trying to track her down since. But when he does end up running into her again it might come with a shock.

Authors Note: This is my first ever AU Mob imagine. I love reading Mob Bucky imagines, and I want to write them so bad! This is my first ever one I hope you guys enjoy it. I was thinking maybe a series done like this or a Mob!Bucky x daughter reader series?

Masterlist

Avengers Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

l“That was-” Bucky panted as he rolled off of y/n. He had never had such good sex or a connection during sex that was that powerful.

“Amazing.” Y/n finished his sentence, panting as well from their recent activities with a smile on her face. That was some of the best sex she’d had in her life. Maybe even the best.

“Uh huh.” Bucky agreed smiling widely. Bucky turned his head to look at her, admiring the woman next to him. “Damn.”

The two continued their night with some making out, a bit of snuggling, and then they fell asleep in each other's arms. When morning came Y/n woke first and looked at the clock, it was early 7 am early. Realizing that this was her chance to leave before Bucky woke up. An so there wouldn’t be any awkwardness of the one nightstand morning after.

Picking up her clothes and getting dressed after she made sure she had everything she turned to look back at the dark haired man still asleep. Man did she wish she could stay in bed with him. He seemed so sweet and his grip was hard to get out of when she got out of the bed minutes before. It felt safe.

But it was only a one nightstand, nothing more. So as safe as his grip felt and as sweet, kind and, caring even he seemed. This wasn’t a relationship and they weren’t already together. It is a simple fling.

Besides with who he is, who he’s known as, what he does for a living. It’s not who he is. He has new women all the time and they are never serious relationships, just quick fucks. Y/n wanted something serious, dependable, and real. Not to be a notch on someone's bedpost. So she left.

^     ^     ^ 5 Months Later ^     ^     ^

“Buck, you’ve been at this for months. I think it’s time you let it go.” Steve sighed, he hated that his best friend finally found a woman he wanted to try a serious relationship with and she could not be found.

“No. No way.” Bucky shook his head in a ‘no’ motion. He had been trying to find Y/n for 5 months. He woke up expecting to find her next to him but all he found was an empty and cold bed.

“Steve’s right man. It’s been five months. It was a one nightstand. You need to move on.” Sam added in. Even though Bucky annoyed him most of the time, he does care for him. This was not healthy.

“No guys I’m telling you, it was more than that. There was something there, something between us that night. We both felt it.” Bucky explained, he understood his friends were coming from and he appreciated it. But he was not going to give up.

“How do you expect to find her than Buck?” Steve asked moving to sit down in the chair across from Bucky’s desk. Leaning forward placing his elbows on his knee’s Steve continued. “You’ve been trying for months and you’ve used all your resources and your still no closer.”

“He’s right. You're a Mob Boss. The Mob Boss of Brooklyn and all the resources you have haven’t worked. That's saying something.” Sam stepped forward, hoping to get it into his head.

Bucky shook his head letting out a sigh. “You both are no help”

“We want to help Bucky it’s just, what's left to try?” Steve questioned but it was more a statement than anything.

“Trust use, Barnes. We’d help if we knew how. All you’ve talked about is this girl for 5 months straight. I’d love to shut you up.” Sam smirked.

Bucky stood up to exit his office. As he grabbed his jacket and put it on Steve asked. “Where are you going?”

“Out. Alone.” he answered gruffly.

“Come on man.” Sam leaned his head back against the door frame.

“Your both not helping and I need some air and space to clear my head. I’ll be back later.” he said as he headed out to his garage to get away.

Bucky didn’t have a exact idea on what he was gonna do when he left to get some air but decided once he was on the road why not go to get a drink from his favorite place. Which happened to be in a near  by strip mall near his mansion/compound.

Just as Bucky parked he let out a sigh of frustration. As he turned his head looking out the window of his car when something caught his eye. Or should we say someone.

Bucky hurried to get out of his car, he could careless about getting a drink anymore. Bucky called out once he was across the slightly busy road, trying not to get hit by any cars. “Y/n?”

He thought it was her, it looked exactly like her and he is truly hoping it was her and not his mind playing tricks on him.

Y/n turned around upon hearing her name only to see the man that had been on her mind for the last five months. And for more than one reason. “Bucky?”

Bucky smiled relieved to have finally found her. Rushing over to her trying not to bump into people as he did. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Really?” She asked furrowing her brow. She was not expecting to hear that he had been looking for her.

“Course, Doll.” Bucky smiled even wider. But noticing how shocked she seemed and how she was clearly fidgeting with her hands inside her large hoodie pockets. “Doll, did you think- Y/n, I think we need to talk.”

“Ummmm, yeah. Ok.” Y/n nodded knowing they really did need to talk and not just about whatever he wanted to talk about.

Bucky nodded as well, offering her a ride to somewhere they could talk more privately. Y/n didn’t have a car anymore since her’s decided to die at a very in convent time. After accepting the two were headed off to well they didn’t really know where at first but Y/n suggested that they could go to her apartment. So they headed there.

Once they got there Y/n unlocked the door and let them in. Taking off their jackets Y/n offered him something to drink. Once they were both seated and had there drinks, Y/n let out a wary laugh. “So… What do we talk about ? I mean where do we start?”

Bucky reached out for her hand holding it softly but with a firm grip. “Y/n, did you leave that night because you thought it was a one night stand?”

Y/n glanced up to meet Bucky’s eyes before looking down at their intertwined hands. “Wasn’t it?”

“Doll, I would’ve loved to have woken up next to you and cooked you breakfast.” Bucky shook his head smiling and letting out a laugh. He squeezed her hand for reassurance. “I didn’t view nor did I want it to be a one time thing. What made you think I did?”

Y/n shrugged. “I just thought that was what it was. I enjoyed that night so much. All the dancing, talking and the sex. But I just- look Bucky. I knew who you were then just like I do now. What you do for a living, your reputation. I just figured I was another fling.”

“You were anything but a fling, Y/n.” Bucky stated, scooting closer to her on the couch. It did bring him some relief to know that she already knew about him being a Mob Boss. That took a load off of him slightly, not having to explain that part of his life.

“Why Bucky? What makes me so different?” Y/n questioned still not understanding why she would be any different.

“Everything.”

Y/n shook her head. “You don’t know me.”

“I might not know a lot, but we talked for a long time that night. About a lot, plus I’d like to get to know you.” Buck spoke with a smile on his lips and admiration in his eyes.

“I’d like to get to know you to it’s just-” Y/n didn’t know if now was the right time to tell him or not. They just found each other again.

“What? Is it because of the whole Mob thing?” Bucky asked scooting so close that there things were completely touching. Bucky looked defeated that this could be over before it even started because of his job.

“No, no it’s not that.” Y/n squeezed his hand this time it was her giving the reassurance to him, that the mob thing didn’t bother her. “Buck, there’s a bit of an age difference between us. I think or at least I thought it might bother you or look bad with your reputation.”

“I could give a fuck about what people think. It doesn’t bother me. Not one bit.” Bucky stated leaning his forehead against hers. Bucky noticed that she relaxed but not by much. “Is something else bothering you?”

“Yeah.” she answered meekly.

“What is it?” Buck asked concerned, he wanted her to feel comfortable and not to worry.

“Bucky-”

“Y/n, you can tell me anything.” Bucky cut her off knowing she was gonna try and pass on telling him what was on her mind bothering her.

Y/n let out a sigh, slightly nervous to say her next words. After taking a deep breath she looked him in the eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

Bucky sat there shocked and unmoving for a minute before running his free hand down his face. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” Y/n bit her lip, watching his face closely to see his reaction. But with him being a Mobster and all it was not easy to tell what he was thinking.  He had a good poker face.

“H-How far along?” He asked gaining his composure as much as he could.

“5 Months” Y/n answered

“Wow. I know that was a goodnight but damn. Didn’t know it was that good.” Bucky smirked turning his gaze back to her, letting out a airy laugh at Y/n’s surprised expression. “Doll, I’m not upset.”

Y/n nodded stil shocked. “I’m noticing.”

“Its not something I expected to happen this soon or ever. I never thought I’d have kids, but then again I never thought I’d find someone I really wanted to be with in a serious relationship either. Till you.” he smiled admiring the woman infront of him.

“This is all so fast-” Y/n added still reeling from his words and happy reaction.

Bucky could tell that she meant it in more than one way. An he understood. She just found out that she was never a fling to him, he wants a relationship and he’s more than okay with the baby thing. It’s alot. Hell Bucky just found the girl he’s been looking for, found out she thought he just wanted sex, that he is gonna be having a baby. It’s a lot for him to.

“I know, I know but how about this. We get to know each other better, got out on dates, appointments for the baby. All of it. Let’s just go with the flow of things ok? I want to be their for through all this and I want to be round and there for you and the baby.” Bucky didn’t want to push to hard knowing how stressed she must be and with how new all this was. But Bucky did not want to lose her again, and he diffidently didn’t want to lose his baby.

“I’d like that.” Y/n smiled agreeing with his proposal of what they should do.

Bucky smiled back relieved and also excited. Not being able to contain himself he reached up to cup her cheeks, pulling her into a searing kiss. Which Y/n immediately kissed back. Enjoying what she’s missed over the last five months.

Tag: @gruffle1

[marvellous1917]

Icarus Falling Far.

(Part 3)

Pairing: mob!bucky x tattoo artist!female!reader

Summary: it’s the day after giving the dangerous mobster his first tattoo, and he hasn’t contacted you yet. What a dick.

Warnings: cursing, crime, mentions of guns, stalking/harassment (brief), think that’s it.

Word count: 3.6k ish

A/N: i had no plan to make this story into a mini-series, so if this seems a little unplanned… it is. Anyway, hope you like it my loves 😘

(This is not beta’s so any mistakes are my own)

Part 2 ⬇️:

———————

Bold is readers thoughts

Italics is Bucky's thoughts

This starts in Bucky’s POV.

———————

His home office was always the place he went to feel at peace. Ironic really, considering the dealings done within the room. The walls had seen him order his men to assassinate his rivals, to eliminate anybody that got in their way. The desk had felt the tip of the pen write extortionate contracts, sent silently to some of the cities most powerful people, the non-explicit threat sent with photos of their family’s, to reminds them what they were risking if they refused to comply. The window that felt the full strength of his prosthetic too many times to count. The hole in the floor after one of his employees managed to literally shoot himself in the foot. {guess who}

But his peace was teetering on a cliffs edge. His hands were woven into his hair, pulling to try and alleviate the headache forming. Elbows resting on his desk as his eyes stayed staring at one specific groove in the wood.

A knock at the door broke his trance and he sighed. It was a rule in the Compound that if the boss was in his office and the door was closed, you do not interrupt or enter unless there was an emergency. Only one man was brave enough to completely disregard Bucky’s rule, which had led to some… interesting situations when Bucky had girls in there with him.

“Come in,” he called, knowing the longer he waited to respond, the louder and more incessant the knocking would become.

The door opened and there was Bucky’s very own personal dumbass: Steve Rogers. The man had been a part of Bucky’s life since as long as he could remember, if-fact some of his earliest memories were with Steve; young boys playing cops and robbers together, attempting to protect Steve when he picked a fight he had no business being in- which had led to Bucky getting his ass beat as well, and scheming together about how to make sure that Simon Justin never played baseball again after pulling his sisters hair on the playground.

“Fuck me Buck, I’m not sure if today could have been anymore fucked,” Steve stated as he collapsed on to the couch, flinging his legs over one arm and resting his head in the other.

Today was a stressful fucking day.

It was the day that Bucky was making all necessary moves. Why all the problems had to pop up now, he wasn’t sure. And the kicker to this awful day? He had no time to talk to you, the girl he could not get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. You’d managed to flood his mind, memories of the kiss you shared playing over and over again.

“Did you close the door?” Bucky asked, not moving an inch.

“Yeah.”

“Good because I do not need anyone else talking to me right now,” Bucky said, his voice low and quiet, an air of danger ever-present in his tone.

“C’mon Buck, y’know you love them,” Steve responds with a dopey little smirk on his face, and he tilts his head to make eye contact with the man he calls his brother.

I hate that fuckin smile.

He softly hums his agreement and returns to inspecting the groove on his desk.

“We just gotta talk it out, figure out what the fuck is going on, then plan our next moves accordingly,” Steve says, swinging his legs back to the floor, hands clasped together, his arms leaning on his knees.

“Yeah thanks man, I didn’t think about figuring everything out, maybe I’ll give that a go now” Bucky retorts with weak sarcasm, mind too busy, replaying the events of the day.

“I can leave you alone to get lost in your head, or we can figure this shit out together. It’s your call jerk.” Steve says, tilting his head down to catch Bucky’s eye.

“Alright.”

“Stop pulling your hair jackass.” He adds.

I hate it when you do that.

Bucky drops his hands to the desk and says, “Ok let’s start this debrief with Walker.”

“Nat’s got his ass tied up in the basement for ya, he’s ready when you are.”

“Anybody looking for him?”

“One frustratingly loyal friend, but he has no idea that Johnny-boy is with us. The rest of his little fan club have no idea he’s even missing.”

“Ok, one problem down. Rumlow?” It’s the question he doesn’t want the answer to. He’d much rather spend his time thinking about you. His history with Brock Rumlow was bloody and painful, for both of them. There was only one person from his past that Bucky hadn’t dealt with, and here he was, coming back to ruin the name Bucky had made for himself.

Rumlow knew things about Bucky’s past that made him a a high security threat, but after he failed to blow himself up in an attempt to kill Bucky, he had disappeared. Bucky thought it was finally over, but the asshole popped back up about a year ago, with more power than before, making himself seemingly untouchable by Bucky’s hand.

“Currently moving like he has been, not causing too much trouble for us, though his crew are getting closer and closer to our dealings at the port.” Steve said, a slight look of digits on his face.

“Put extra hands down there for the next couple weeks, see if we can’t scare them off a little.”

“Yes boss. I’ll let them know after this.”

“The commissioner’s dealt with?” Buck asks, remembering the deviation the man had decided to make.

“Yep, send him that gift basket. He called Sam this morning and agreed to our terms.”

“Good. How’s Barton?” He asks, moving into what they class as ‘personal business’.

“Pissed, man. He wants blood for what happened, we all do.” Steve answers, the memory of seeing Clint covered in blood and bruised made his blood simmer.

“We sure it wasn’t Rumlows’ lot, or fuck even Walker?

“Walkers’ fanclub do not have the brain cells, the power, or the information to organise an attack like that, and Parker tracked Rumlow and his men, all are accounted for and have alibis. This is someone new.”

Oh for fuck’s sake. Isn’t two power hungry assholes enough.

“We haven’t found anything? No security cameras, no cell tower pings?” Bucky asks, leaning back in his chair, resting his head on the back.

“Actually, I sent Scott there this morning to check out if there was anything left there and he found something.” Steve responds, some apprehension creeping into his voice.

That got Bucky’s attention. His head snapped back up and locked eyes with Steve who now stood in-front of his desk, pacing back and forth slightly.

“Care to share with the class Rogers?” His voice was hard now, his extreme dislike of not knowing all the information shining through.

Steve exhales sharply, biting his tongue to not retort and piss Bucky off more.

“He found a package tucked behind a dumpster addressed to ‘Bucky Barnes’ that had a memory stick-“

“Like a USB?” Bucky interrupted.

“- Yeah a USB-“ he gets cut off again.

“Then just say USB, calling it a ‘memory stick’ makes you sound 100 years old.”

“-oh dear god, you gonna let me finish?” Steve responds.

Bucky waved his hand at him, a sign for him to continue.

“Scott found a package addressed to you with a USB inside, we gave it to Stark ‘cos Parker was busy tracking down Rumlows crew, and he checked it out and told us it was completely normal, no virus or anything bad in it.”

“Was there anything on it?” Bucky asks, his brow furrowed.

“It..uh..has two pictures on it.” Steve said lowly.

“…of?”

“It’s probably better if I just show you.” Steve said, his tone of voice made Bucky a little nervous.

Steve took out his phone, tapped a couple of time before turning it around to give to Bucky. As soon as the latter had ahold of the phone, Steve took a full step back, which caused Bucky to raise his eyebrows in question.

“Just look.” He says in response to Bucky’s unasked question.

He looked down at the screen and almost immediately removed his left hand as to not break the phone.

Fuck. Shit.

The first picture was of the night he met you. It was taken through the window for you apartment, and clearly showed both you and Bucky, stood side by side, looking through your flash book.

“What the fuck is this?” He pushes out through gritted teeth.

“I assuming that’s the tattoo artist you told me about, the one you got a thing for?” Steve says.

The one I’m obsessed with.

When Bucky gives him a sharp nod, Steve just drops his head, suddenly fascinated with his shoes.

“Shit.” He says under his breath.

“What?” Bucky’s voice was louder now.

“Look at the next picture.” Steve says while avoiding eye contact.

Bucky looks down, his finger swiping to the next picture before he can think about it.

No. No no fuck. Not her.

The next photo was taken from inside the apartment. Inside your bedroom. It’s of you. Asleep. Completely unaware of the danger stood at the foot of your bed.

Bucky couldn’t look away, he was frozen staring at the picture. Your shorts and oversized tee had both ridden up slightly, showing how truly vulnerable you are. The clock on your table showed the time as 3:54 and showed the date.

“…this was taken this morning.”

“..yeah.”

fuck.

———————

Fuck Bucky Barnes.

The bastard hadn’t contacted you since the shop.

Bitch ass told me to keep my phone on so I wouldn’t miss his message, kept me glued to my phone like a weirdo waiting for him to call… and he didn’t. Dick.

Despite the annoyance at the very very attractive mobster, you couldn’t help wonder how he was, what he was doing, if he was thinking about you too.

You’re overthinking about Bucky was interrupted by a knock at your door.

“One sec!” You shout to whoever’s there, getting up and walking to the door. The second you undo the lock, the door is being pushed into your face with a chorus of greetings.

“Come in I guess,” you say to the three who just walked in.

“Well thanks darlin, you got food?” Billy responds, already making his way to the fridge.

“Don’t fucking eat my pizza Bill, I swear I’ll kill you,” you answer, giving both Frank and Curtis a hug, letting the door close behind them.

He laughs off your threat as the others take a seat on your couch.

“Not that I don’t love you guys, but why the fuck are you here?” You ask, moving back to the arm chair in the corner and taking a seat, your phone pinging in the back ground.

“What, we can’t pop in on you whenever we want?” Frank says, leaning back in the arm of the couch, moving to put his feet in the coffee table.

“Frankie if you put your feet on my table, I’m gonna beat you with a spoon.” You call at him.

He freezes and slowly lowers his feet back to the floor.

“We just wanted to come see how you were…Frank told us about Barnes.” Curtis says, cutting into the conversation and completely dampening the mood.

God-fucking-dammit Frank.

Oh fuck do I tell them that he’s not an issue and I actually quite like him.

“Yeah are you ok sweetheart?” Billy asks and he collapses on the couch in the middle of the other boys.

“I’m fine guys, I swear, like I told Frank he’s actually not bad,” you answer, shifting uncomfortable lay in your seat due to the indecision of how much to tell them, “He was nice, polite and kind of…charming, I guess-”

“Is that why you kissed him?” Frank interrupts.

Shit, how does he know?

“-what?”

“You kissed him. Or rather he kissed you but you seemed to enjoy it.” Billy says with an annoying smirk on his face.

“How do you know that?” You ask, shock still written all over your face.

“..the security cameras, kid. You forget about those?”

Ahh fuck.

“Ahh fuck,” you say out loud.

“What the hell are you doing making out with a mobster, Y/N?” Curtis responds, looking at you with those eyes of his that show he’s not judging, just trying to understand.

“I..uh..I wasn’t-really-thinking.” You put you hands on your head, even though Curtis wasn’t judging you, the other two definitely were.

“Obviously you weren’t, he’s a goddam mobster Y/N-” Billy starts, anger in his voice, but you cut him off.

“I know that Bill, ok, I do,” you say, shifting to place your feet on the floor, “but he’s not the animal you think he is, he’s kind and considerate and he makes me feel…” happy. you cut off before the last word, wanting to keep that realisation to yourself for a little longer.

“Plus you bastards can’t be judging me for meeting the guy twice, only yourselves and the devil knows what fucked shit you three have been up to.” You almost shout.

“The fuck does that mean?” Frank answers.

“C’mon Frank I’m not stupid, you three have some shady shit in your pasts. I mean you were goddam military for fucks sake, and don’t think I don’t see the fake payments on the books at the shop-“

“Stop Y/N.” Billy cuts you off. “Stop it now.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving yours.

You were about to respond to his demand, when a knock sounded at the door.

“Told you to keep you phone on.” A dark voice calls through the door.

Oh shit. No no no not now please not now.

“Who the fuck is that?” Frank asks, suddenly sitting up straight, eyes pinned on the door. Both Billy and Curtis stand, facing the door as if waiting for it to bust off it’s hinges.

“Please all of you, shut the fuck up and don’t do anything dumb,” you answer, moving towards the door.

“Is that him?” Curtis asks.

“Didn’t I just say shut the fuck up,” you retort a little snappier, opening the door slightly.

He cut his hair, it’s looks good on him.

Bucky lowers his arm from his thwarted attempt at a second knock and says, “Is your phone broken or are you ignoring me?” The smirk on his face made your heart beat a little faster.

“Neither, I just missed your text because I have some friends over right now,” you say.

“Is that why you’re not opening the door properly? I can barley see you,” he says with a grin.

“…kinda? Ok wait..” you exit your apartment, pulling the door closed fully behind you, “long story short, they know about the k.. uh about what happened at the shop, and they know who you are and they are not happy about it.”

His eyes darken and his smirk grows wider at the almost mention of the kiss. He shifts until he’s leaning his shoulder on the wall by your door.

“Oh yeah? Doesn’t really matter what they think though, does it doll? Both you and I know how much you enjoyed it.” He says, mouth forming a cheeky grin.

Oh my god.

“Me? You’re the one who started it Bucky, seemed you enjoyed it more,” you respond, having no idea where the confidence came from.

He hums at your statement and says “Well I can admit that I did enjoy our kiss sweetheart, but I may need a little reminder of how it went, it’s been a long day you see.”

“Bucky-” you’re cut of by him stepping closer until your chests are barley touching, the new position making you tilt your head back to see him better.

“What darlin? You ok with this?” He asks slowly, tilting his head to the side slightly, looking into your eyes for any sign of discomfort.

Why does he have to be so sweet.

You nod in answer to his question and he smiles. Not the terrifying grin or the cheeky smirk, but a genuine smile - one that makes him even more beautiful. Bucky raises his right arm, dragging his thumb over your lips and cupping your cheek while you stare up at him, his other hand sneaks around your back, pulling you flush to him.

“You have no idea what to do to me, do ya?” He mumbles, probably not intending for you to respond as he’s closing the gap between you. The kiss is harsh and a little messy, shocking you slightly with his apparent desperation, hands holding you tightly. He takes advantage of your shock, tracing your lips with his tongue and pushing past to deepen the kiss.

His hand drops from you face to your waist, gripping so tightly, you’re sure he’ll have left a bruise. That thought got you’re heart pumping faster, the idea that an imprint of his hands, his fingers would be left on your skin. It felt right. Bucky pushes you until your back hits the wall, hips fitting against yours almost perfectly, one leg sneaking between yours as you let a light whimper escape.

You break the kiss to get some air, leaning your forehead against his, both of you catching your breath.

“Bucky, I mis-”, you didn’t get to finish the sentence before your door opens and you’re suddenly faced with three pissed off ex-marines.

-(Bucky’s P.O.V)

Bucky immediately steps back, releasing you, and straightens his posture. He looks at the men, quietly analysing them. He can tell that they either are or were military, and definitely care immensely about you, probably to the point of beating the crap out of anyone that hurt you.

The one in the middle is a frightening creature , he thinks, but the wedding band means he has something to loose, he should be less quick to anger, in theory.

The one on the right with the short buzz cut and the tense muscles reminds him of Clint, he’s ready to fight at the drop of a hat, and by the look on his face, I’m gonna be his next target.

The man on the left intrigued Bucky the most. His face is blank, showing nothing. He’s favouring one of his legs, and the other shows a bulky piece of metal at the bottom. Wonder if that’s an old military injury.

“Guys, what are you doing?” You ask, apprehension in your voice. Bucky wonders if you’re scared for them or for him.

“Oh we are gonna head out, let you have some time to really think about what we talked about.” The man in the middle says, putting emphasis on the word really.

“Frank please-”

“No it’s ok sweetheart,” Bucky bristles at the pet name the Clint wannabe says, “we’ll see you later.”

“Billy-”

“Shit, I left my phone on your table, could you get it for me?” The other says to you, cutting off your words, smiling at you to calm the stressed look on your face.

“Of course Cutis, one sec,” you respond, Turing to Bucky at the end of your sentence with a look at says please don’t make this worse.

You pass by the men and let the door fall closed behind you.

The silence is tense as the men all stare at each-other.

“So…how’s your man doing? Y’know the one that got jumped,” Billy says, smirking at Bucky.

“How do you know that?” Bucky asks as his muscles tense.

“…Y/N told us, obviously,” Billy says.

The pause was intentional, she didn’t tell them that.

“He’s fine, thanks.” Bucky responds shortly, all to aware of the lie he was just told.

The door opens just before Billy can respond, all four men going silent again.

“Here it is Curtis, guess I’ll see you guys later then,” you say, before hugging each man.

The three shoulder past Bucky as if he was just a man on the street, no care in the world that he could have them killed for that disrespect. But he lets this one slide, for her, as they’re her friends.

“Did you tell them about Clint?” He knows it was a lie but he needs to make sure his cynical brain isn’t marking it up.

“No? Why?” You answer, unaware of the turmoil occurring in Bucky’s head.

Then how the fuck do they know.

“Give me one minute doll, I forgot something at the car,” he says, “go on inside I’ll be back soon.”

“Uh.. okay.” You answer, walking back into the apartment.

He watches the door and as soon as it closes he is moving back down the stairs, hoping to catch and ask the men how they knew about Clint. Bucky normally has an reasonable explanation for everything, but this time he was stumped. He catches them outside the front door to the building, the three of them stood leaning against their car, watching the door, waiting for him to come out.

“How do you know?” He repeats his question from before, voice lower and more dangerous now.

“Y’know…that bastard has a solid right hook.” Billy says. The sentence sends red hot anger through Bucky’s blood.

It was them. But that means…

“Did you get our package?” The big one in the middle asks, Frank, she called him.

Fuck. The anger that has been burning in his veins since the second he saw those photos of you pours out of him and he immediately pulls a gun on Frank.

“Hey now that’s not smart, is it?” Curtis asks in a placating tone.

“Don’t forget about our girl up there. What’s she gonna think if you shoot me for no reason?” Frank says, unflinching staring down the barrel of Bucky’s gun.

Fuck. Fuck. These bastard are the ones threatening everything, they jumped Clint and are using you to get to him. They’re your friends and you? You have absolutely no idea.

————

Yo this took so long to do!! Hope you like my lil twisty turn at the end there 😈.

Lemme know what u think 😘

Tagged :

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[jtargaryen18]

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 32

Part 32: The Rising

Series Masterlist

Words: 8k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No one knew? Had Dyson told her that?

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

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

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

Who figured it out? Figured what out?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Belova was supposed to be cast out of his household.

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

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

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

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

Coming for his wife.

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

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

“Have you heard anything?” his wife asked.

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

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

“So is Barnes,” Belova told her.

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” She sounded so small, unsure.

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

“What do you mean?” his wife asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wasn’t wrong.

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

A lone black flower from a funeral arrangement?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re okay?” he asked carefully.

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

“You’ll have a scar,” he warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All you could do was nod.

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

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

Oh, shit. Here we go.

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

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

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

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

You swallowed hard. Somehow Steve knew.

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

“And?”

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

Steve huffed a laugh. “I’m sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

Maybe she really does love me.

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

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

You had a lot of time to listen and learn.

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

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

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

Everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where does our family stand right now?”

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

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

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

Dyson hadn’t son’d him in many years.

“What did I say—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he had a point.

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

Dyson got closer. Got in his face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Always,” she said, meaning it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your friends make it out?” Steve asked.

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

You were indeed. You were especially grateful to Jensen.

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

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

You couldn’t imagine Hansen being afraid of anyone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve met your gaze, shaking his head.

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

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

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

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

“Paulina?” Steve asked.

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

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

Steve looked confused but didn’t say anything.

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

That blue-eyed gaze cut to you and back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clint met your gaze, nodded his approval.

“Who did it?” Steve asked.

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

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

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

Now Steve really did look startled.

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

Steve just stared at you now.

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

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

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

That had you grinning.

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

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

There was no going back now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s done,” Steve said.

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

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

Dyson winked at you. “Yes, boss.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wouldn’t,” you assured him.

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

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

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

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

Okay, that was something he’d say.

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

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

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

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

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

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[biteofcherry]

to find the light, we must first touch the darkness

Please also check out @bluepinkangel​’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.

warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; power imbalance; forced relationship; D/s undertones; public humiliation; groping; dirty talk

I did warn you this Steve is dark 😜

word count: 4k

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

5. Breaking ice 

~ * ~ 

You’ve never been more annoyed with a sunny day and warm lightness filling your bones than you felt the day after the apothecary incident. Extra bounce to your step as the sun stroked your face and corners of your lips threatening to curl up irked you immensely. 

Every other minute you tried to force yourself into a stormy mood.

Into an expected reaction to what has happened.

You faced direct danger, witnessed people being killed in cold blood, you were trapped in a relationship with a fucking mobster, who - on top of it all - screwed your body and mind in a most wicked, deranged way.

You shouldn’t be feeling cheery. That reaction was inadequate to the situation and to the moral norms you thought you possessed. 

Either Rogers had that strong of an impact that you quickly bent to his dark whims, or the spine you thought you had always been a noodle not a steel rod. 

How otherwise explain the fact repulsion at his manhandling transformed into thrill and arousal? 

Last night, when you finally went to bed after taking a thorough scrubbing shower (and crunching a few cranberry pills to pray the UTI away), the images of being fucked with a gun resurfaced in a colorful burst. 

The crystalline blue frozen in ice of Steve’s irises, the soft pink of his lips inches away from yours, the black of the gun against your floral dress. 

It made you sticky instead of sick. 

You had some knowledge of the psychological aspects to rough sex fantasies, or bdsm preferences, even consensual non-consent role play; but they all were considered normal when consented and previously explored. 

You did not give Steve your verbal consent. Yet you didn’t exactly fight him. Convincing yourself it was because he had a gun and could kill you with it fell poorly since your pussy clenched at the memory of the barrel against your skin. 

What has your life become - cranberry pills and getting wet from being violated.

You were angry, yes, but not at what you should be. Your annoyance with Rogers was peaking, but the true resentment wasn’t only toward his actions. It was directed at yourself for not being outraged by what happened. 

When the next day at work Natalie asked you about the meeting, you gave her the short version - a trap being set up and Rogers coming to save you. The part about coming all over his gun was left unspoken.

You told yourself it’s to spare yourself further humiliation, but a part of you simply feared you’d get turned on thinking about it again. 

Really, that should be a topic to pick at a therapy session, but you couldn’t do that either. You had enough common sense to know going to a psychotherapist was out of the question, not with the man who was about to become your husband. You couldn’t tell all the truth in a session (to not risk a therapist’s life) and going there only to lie and omit had no sense. 

So you decided to channel everything onto the job. 

Focusing on work meant not allowing your thoughts to roam around Steve fucking Rogers, as well not giving your body reasons to stir with arousal. 

You caught up on paperwork, made a few phone calls - including those less important, just to occupy yourself; you visited the new speech therapist in their office. Being busy enhanced the sense of lightness, which you preferred to read as having no space to overthink and stress, instead of wondering if getting debauched was the sole cause of your serenity. 

However, the lull of denial burst the moment Natalie came into your office with lunch.

Lunch you didn’t order, and a couple trailing behind her with creepily bright smiles on their faces. 

“Miss Leigh Parrish and Mister Elias Asher are here for you.” Natalie informed you, professional as always, though you noticed the barely constrained eye roll. “And they brought you lunch, apparently.”

“What?” You looked at the set of neat three boxes with delicious looking food then at Natalie and at the pair behind her. 

The two walked in with confidence, as if they were about to take over your office. The woman, Leigh, had a pad in her hand and a huge binder under her other arm. The man held some small kind of measure tape and a little blue notebook. 

If they were some new donors, or a company who wanted to start a program with your health center, they sure were the very first to start negotiations this way. Usually you were invited to lunch, not have it brought. People meeting you were also more reserved and polite, instead of barging in with some wacky energy. 

“Lunch is from Mister Rogers, we’re just delivering since we were going to be here anyway,” said Leigh, her toothpaste-commercial grin not changing for a second.

Instantly your mood dropped, your eyebrows creasing into a hostile frown. 

“And why are you here?” Your tone remained calm, but you made sure displeasure in it was audible. 

Steve randomly buying you lunch was a worrying problem you stored to resolve later; though you had a feeling he wouldn’t care that these nice gestures annoyed you, as they clashed with the picture of a ruthless mobster you were adamant on hating forever. 

The two cheery people coming in unannounced - at the direction of Steve, undoubtedly - became the aim of your irritation and distrust. 

“To help you plan your wedding, of course.” They both beamed in unison and you almost groaned at how overtly sweet the woman’s tone has become. 

“Mr Rogers mentioned you’re fighting nerves, which is absolutely understandable,” Leigh cooed and your fingers twitched, ready to reach for something to throw it at her. “Planning a wedding can be stressful, especially an impromptu one. But that’s why I’m here! I’m the best wedding planner in the city and I’ll make sure it surpasses all your dreams.”

Your reluctance toward the wedding wasn’t something you hid from Rogers. Quite the opposite, you announced it any chance you had; within limits of reason, to avoid being disposed of.

Him sending in an actual wedding planner was a move you did not expect. At all. 

You’d sooner anticipate him dragging you in your pajamas in front of a forced registrar to get it over with. 

Ah, but that would be too easy. Not enough torment for you. Not enough room for you to show how obedient of a wife you’d be. 

We both know you will be a good girl for me, Princess, his voice resounded in your head, a decadent richness that softened your limbs for a split of a second before your resistance kicked in. 

Having you organize the wedding, or at least actively participate in it, was a lesson - that you would follow his orders even if you hated them.  

“The best wedding planner in the city has a free slot to organize a wedding in a month?” You arched a single eyebrow, studying the woman. “What skeletons are in your closet that my fiance managed to blackmail you?”

You didn’t doubt she was one of the best, but those had their schedules booked for three years in advance. To have her clear it for you meant there was more than just money at stake for Miss Leigh Parrish. 

Her smile faltered for a second, but she regained her composure fast. She ignored your question, walking instead toward your desk and placing her huge binder on it. 

“Since we have the venue covered, with Mr Rogers estate being more than enough to host the event,” she went on, “there are only details to talk over. Let’s start with the wedding rings, so that Elias can begin working on them right away.”

Her companion stepped forward. The tiny measuring tape in his hand now made sense, as it apparently was to measure the circumference of your finger to match a ring size.

“Let’s start-” you interrupted, pushing your chair back- “with you leaving my office.”

Interesting how you managed to maintain your poised self, professionally cool as you delivered the polite fuck you, while that composure quickly dissolved around Rogers. 

You kinda stepped on eggshells around him at first (and still, sensing when the crossing line was too near), but then his demands lit your fuse. Somehow you dared to stomp your foot, be loud in your outbursts and acts of rebellion. And it wasn’t because Steve provided safe space, oh no. He was far from safe. 

“What?” The man blinked, confused, while his friend blanched.

“We have to get it done. As soon as possible.” Still trying to sound sweet and soft, Leigh made the mistake of allowing a tremble to shake her voice. 

“Then get it done, I don’t really care.” You shrugged.

It was the truth. You didn’t care for the ceremony at all. 

You had a brief thought about hating it, if it was some overused boho or retro theme in a barn, but then again you would hate it anyway, since you didn’t want to marry Steve. Besides, it could be funny to see his face if someone told him to wear suspenders and a flat cap for aesthetics.

“You, um, you don’t want to participate in preparations for your own wedding?” Leigh frowned, utterly surprised. “Not even pick a dress?” 

“I can wear a t-shirt and flip-flops for all I care.” You probably wouldn’t go that far, but you really didn’t care. 

If Rogers didn’t order you to wear a wedding dress, you’d do it anyway just to please your parents who were going to be completely oblivious to the truth behind your speedy wedding. You preferred to keep it that way, playing someone so dumbly in love she was ready to marry a few weeks after meeting the guy. You didn’t want to worry your parents.  

Natalie snorted at your words, for the very first time so openly showing amusement. She even grinned when you glared at her, then turned on her heel and walked outside.

“The, um, the wedding rings?” Elias cleared his throat.

“Barbed wire would be fitting,” you snorted under your breath, but he didn’t seem to hear it. You suspected he might’ve fainted if he did. 

“Whatever Mister Rogers wishes,” you shrugged. “As a matter of fact, why don't you go and consult with him?” 

To underline that you were done with this whole shit-show, you opened one of the lunchboxes and dug a fork into it. You didn’t lift up your eyes from the delicious food until you heard the door closing.   

You ate your lunch while idly browsing the internet, just to get your thoughts off the wedding completely. It was approaching with each passing day and you preferred not to accept the fact. 

Though you weren’t sure denial would work once there was an actual ring on your finger. 

It seemed it wouldn’t work even before that, because not a half hour after you dismissed the wedding planner the door to your office opened with impetus.

Steve strode inside, a force of a thousand storms contained in a man’s body. 

His heavy boots and the hem of his tight jeans seemed to be freshly stained with something wet and dark. The rest of him was perfectly clean, not a smudge of dirt on his hands. You tried not to think of blood splashing on his shoes and legs as a lifeless victim fell at Steve's feet.

You definitely tried to ignore a wave of heat that washed over you at the thought. 

You forced your eyes to stay on the devil’s angelic face, drowning in the hues of blue, so that your gaze wouldn’t slide across Steve’s body in search of a gun holster. 

“Princess.” Steve sighed, but there was an undertone of amusement in his voice. 

He walked toward you with purposeful steps; his mass seemingly changing the gravity inside your office, so that all light fractured to disappear in his approaching darkness. 

Or maybe it was your attention discarding anything in your peripheral to focus on him, as if he was the center of your world. 

You abruptly stood up and shuffled back instinctively, bumping into a bureau. Steve caged you against it, blocking any route of escape with his arms on both sides of you. It was only then that you tilted your chin up, tapping into the remnants of your steel defiance.

“Why am I hearing that you’re scaring off the wedding team?” Steve tilted his head to the side and chuckled. “They’re here to take the planning burden off your shoulders, so that you can focus on your work. And your future role…”

You swore that if he said anything about wifely duties, you’d kick him.

“I told them they can plan whatever they want. As long as they do it far away from me,” your mocking sweet smile combined with your sneer. 

Perhaps your tone provoked it, or maybe a challenging fire in your eyes, but Steve’s lips curved into a wolfish grin. 

“Oh, Princess,” he cooed, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip, “look at your cute yip, yet there’s no real bite to it.” 

It was very dangerous to do anything to antagonize Rogers, especially when he was this close and could snap your neck with his bare hands, but you acted before a reasonable thought settled in.

You opened your mouth and caught his thumb between your teeth, clenching your jaw enough to cause pain, but not drawing blood.

Steve’s eyes hardened, the blue of his irises darkening. Time froze for a split second; you could almost hear the ice cracking beneath your feet and the murky depths awaiting to swallow your dead body. 

Suddenly your eyes widened, when instead of backhanding you, Steve pushed his thumb further between your lips.

Your teeth released their grip, his digit easing into your mouth and pressing against your tongue. Saliva pooled around it and you instinctively hollowed your cheeks. 

Twisted satisfaction igniting in his eyes and the subtle thrust of his thumb along your tongue stirred you from stupor. Scorching shame filled you to the roots, though you hoped it didn’t show. 

You pulled back, turning your face away from Steve as you swallowed remnants of his taste. He tilted your chin with his wet thumb, forcing you to look him in the eye again. What the fuck was with this man and maintaining eye contact? 

“Let’s get it over with, shall we?” He smoothed a hand down your arm and wrapped his fingers around your wrists. 

Next thing you knew Steve was calling for Elias Asher, as he stretched your arm out; thumb pressing into your palm to make your fingers stretch. 

Elias stumbled inside and almost tripped over his own feet at the sight the two of you displayed - you pressed against the bureau with Rogers’ intimidating size looming over you, your hand offered on a silver platter. 

“You mentioned you need measurements for the ring size,” Steve intoned conversationally, “do what you must.”

You glared daggers at Steve, which he accepted unbothered. The jeweler’s fingers didn’t shake as he wrapped a small measuring tape around your finger and wrote down the result in his notebook. However, all the while he was staring either at your finger or his notes, never up at either of you.

That way it was easier to pretend the scene before him wasn’t close to intimate, or that he didn’t suspect you were being forced into marriage.

“What type of metal?” His voice wavered slightly. 

“White gold,” came Steve’s decided reply. 

Something told you that while he was giving you free will to organize the wedding however you liked, Steve had already chosen how your permanent shackle looks like. 

You peeked at his hand, gaze sliding across the rings adorning his thick fingers. You noticed there was none on the finger on which a wedding band is worn. He was going to make sure that your rings matched the set he was already wearing.   

“Pure and fierce, like my fiancée.” Steve added, with a mocking tilt. 

“And the cut?” Elias scribbled down, not lifting his eyes at either of you even once.

Steve’s eyes sparked mischievously. His right hand moved up your thigh, squeezing your thick flesh through the fabric of your skirt.

“Cushion?” Steve mused aloud.

Then his touch moved upwards, along your ribcage and ghosting over the swell of your breast. 

“Round?” He cupped your tit indecently, causing you to gasp in outrage that he dared to do it in front of someone. 

That he dared to do it at all!

“No. We know which suits you best, right?” Steve’s hand ventured north, brushing your collarbone before his fingers curled around the front of your neck. 

“A princess cut.” 

Ringed fingers wrapped around your throat loosely, but it was a firm enough gesture to boil your blood and weaken your knees. 

You couldn’t blame it on the fear of being strangled, because not a single thought about it entered your mind when Steve did that. Neither when he did it the first time, in his kitchen, nor now. 

What you thought about was the power he spread over you and how it melted your resolve into an obedient puddle. Against all reason. 

Unable to look away from Steve, you didn’t notice the jeweler leaving your office in a hurry, undoubtedly ready to drink away what he tried not to witness. You didn’t even hear the door close, your ears were filled with the sound of your own heart pounding in a quickened rhythm as Steve’s hold on you continued. 

Slowly (it seemed reluctant, too), Steve loosened his grip. He didn’t move it away, though, shifting it only slightly, so his hand splayed like a necklace above your sternum. 

You took a shaky breath in, cogs in your brain starting to turn anew. 

“Why can’t we just sign the papers without this wedding party fuss?” You asked quietly, gaze shifting from Steve’s hold on your hand to his face. 

He brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles before he let go of it and took a step away from you. He swiped a hand over his mouth then gave you a blank, almost condescending look.

“Because I need everyone convinced I’m here after your cute ass, Princess. Blind with love or lust, or whatever people want to believe in,” he winked at you, as if you were supposed to agree with his cynical assessment.

You thought quite the opposite. That no one sane would believe Steve Fucking Rogers was interested in you. 

“Who would even believe that?” You snorted, frowning.

It wasn’t about insecurities of any kind; you were mildly confident both in your looks and your worth. However, men like Rogers didn’t even circle around women of your kind. 

Men of power; men who rode the thin line of morality, mostly treading through the dark side; they went for women who craved such things. Women who suited that lifestyle. Women rotten at the core, or greedy (whether for wealth, or for power and influence). Or at least for women who looked really fucking good on their arms, like models and escorts. 

No one, none of Steve’s rivals surely, would believe that he was simply courting you. You beside him made zero sense.

Steve laughed. Actually laughed. A warm, sparkling burst of amusement that made his handsome face gain impossible boyish charm. 

“That a man got addicted to a sweet pussy?” He looked down at you, still grinning. But that grin transformed into a sly curve. 

“Everyone, Princess.” He leaned closer, again; voice nearly purring as his lips brushed your cheek. “I can assure you that even at this moment they’re thinking I’m balls deep inside you.”

You couldn’t help the shiver that rocked your body. Judging by the way Steve’s eyes dragged down and up your frame, he noticed your reaction. 

“I’m kinda thinking about it, too.” He licked his lips, drawing your hungry attention to them.

But the ire at his crude words snapped you out of daze. Your fingers curled in a fist and you pounded it against Steve’s chest when he pressed his weight into you.

“In your dreams!” You hissed.

Your small fist made no real impact against Steve’s hard chest. It didn’t deter him and it seemed he didn’t even feel any pain from the hit. 

His hands returned to your body, boldly gripping your hips and holding you in place as he licked along your jaw. He flicked your earlobe with his tongue - a lewd tease that should disgust you, but instead made your pussy tingle.  

“I’m dreaming of our wedding night.” Steve whispered before pulling away with a low chuckle at your wheeze.

“There will be no wedding night!” You pounded two of your fists against his chest. Futilely.

Steve regarded you with a look one may give to a small kitten trying to appear intimidating toward a wolf fifty times its size.

“I’ll make you a deal, Princess,” he tucked both thumbs beneath the hem of your blouse, his touch nearly scorching against your skin. 

“On our wedding night, if I touch your sweet pussy and it’s dry, I’ll let you pick a bedroom for your own. So you can live in solitude, unbothered by my presence.” He sounded sincere, like it was a business deal he was really willing to propose.

Then his hips were pressing against yours, bulge in his pants prominent as he rocked it into you. Steve’s eyes flashed a dark gleam; his sensual lips parting enough to reveal a row of sharp teeth ready to take a hefty bite.

“But if I find your cunt leaking, as I know it is now-” his deep growl resonated straight to your clit.

“I’ll take a pound of flesh. And I’ll be taking you over and over and over again, until you lose your voice from screaming my name.” 

You clutched at his shirt where your hands rested on his chest. You wanted to be able to shove him away, to punch away the beam of smug victory off Steve’s face. Reasonably, you knew you couldn’t do that without serious repercussions happening. 

You were also too busy with the inner battle, fighting some fucked up, primal need to have Steve do to you exactly what he threatened. 

The bastard was unfortunately right, you were soaked. Something you’d never admit to him.

Even if he pushed his big hand up your skirt and dipped his fingers straight into your dripping cunt, you’d deny it to his face. You’d deny it to yourself. Forever. 

Thankfully, Rogers didn’t push further. He seemed satisfied with his stupid bet and that you didn’t fight back (even if you kept your mouth closed in fear of releasing a whimper). Steve let go of you, only lifting one hand to cup your chin.

“Now be good, Princess,” he commanded. “I don’t have time to deal with hysterical wedding planners.”

You grimaced - eyebrows drawing in a frown, nose scrunching up. You weren’t interested in dealing with wedding planning either, but you were aware Steve considered the topic closed. If you reopened it, he might do more than just bend you into obedience in front of a stranger.

“Then why did you come here?” You asked instead.

“I came for my distressed fiancée,” Steve’s grin was cheeky as he used his grip on your chin to slightly shake your head.

He squeezed a tad tighter and when your lips puckered he pecked them. 

“You’ll get a big girl kiss when you start acting like one,” he added at your indignant glare. 

Then released you and simply turned around to leave. You cursed him and called him names in your head. You prayed that one day you’ll get reckless enough to throw something at him, consequences be damned. For now, you still liked to be alive. 

[holylulusworld]

Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman

Summary: Steve tries to make amends.

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x Wife!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff

Inspired by Bryan Adams’ Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman

<< Part 1 - Truth or dare

To really love a woman

To understand her, you gotta know her deep inside

Hear every thought, see every dream

And give her wings when she wants to fly

Then when you find yourself lyin' helpless in her arms

You know you really love a woman

‘Let love guide your way if the storm brews deep within your heart.’ You read out loud. “As if love could fix how I feel.” You shake your head and slam the book shut. “Nothing changed. Nothing will ever change.”

“Fucking great Rogers. Thanks to your little fight with your wife my mother and wife are at my throat every day. Fix this shit,” Rumlow yells loud enough to make the maid passing Steve’s office by flinch. 

“This is all your fault! You said I’m weak because of my feelings for Y/N. I only showed everyone I’m not whipped!” Steve bites back. “Maybe you should learn to shut your mouth and not talk shit about other people’s relationships.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t tell your wife she means nothing to you. No wonder she was all over me at the party.”

“If,” Steve is out of his seat and in Rumlow’s face in the blink of an eye. He glares at Rumlow, snarling at the man claiming to be the man you want, “you ever mention my wife again, you are fair game. I’ll kill you, your family, and everyone you ever met in your pitiful life.”

“Calm the fuck down, Rogers,” Rumlow grunts. He shoves against Steve’s shoulders and sneers at your angry husband. “I don’t want your wife. She’s not my type. I don’t do uptight and difficult. I like me an obedient little thing.”

“Doll, please stop ignoring me. I know I broke another promise, but you must-“ he sighs deeply as you switch through the channels. “We will go to Paris soon. I had to take care of business. You know how often a deal must be taken care of.”

“I only know that everything and everyone but me is important to me. You asked me to forgive you, and I tried. But you didn’t lift a finger to show me I mean more to you than an easy lay. So, go ahead and take care of business.”

“Y/N, please understand that this had nothing to do with me and you, doll,” he softly says. “I’m truly sorry we couldn’t go on that trip. Please talk to me.”

“Have you ever loved someone else but yourself?” you question. “Did you open your heart completely to someone, Steve?”

“I love you,” he says without hesitation.

“That’s not what I mean,” you drop your eyes and shake your head. “Have you ever really loved a woman, Steve? Did you take your time to get to know her inside and outside? Not just to make her spread her legs or to stick around.”

You get up from the couch to leave the room. Steve grabs your arm, holding you back.

“Baby doll, I see my future in you, and no one else. You own my heart,” he cups your face with both hands, gently cradling it. “Only you, Y/N. Whatever you believe is true, you’re wrong.”

“You’ve got a strange way to apologize,” you grin at Steve. “Telling me I’m in the wrong is not the way to earn my forgiveness. You should be on your knees, begging for forgiveness, showering me with attention and gifts.”

“Oh, I know you’d love to see me on my knees for you, or-“ he dips his head to brush his lips over yours, “when I go down on you.”

“In your dreams, Mr. Rogers.” 

“You forget that I know you better than you know yourself,” he leans closer to brush his lips over your cheek. You shudder as he presses his lips against yours. 

“Steve, you’re not forgiven. A kiss and sweet words won’t make me forget what you said that day. You hurt me deeply, and everyone knows about it. My friends. Your friends. Even Rumlow.”

To really love a woman

To understand her, you gotta know her deep inside

Hear every thought, see every dream

And give her wings when she wants to fly

Then when you find yourself lyin' helpless in her arms

You know you really love a woman

“Y/N,” his features sadden as you try to pull away. “I only ever felt weak and helpless in your arms. I knew, just knew you’ll be the death of me. Not literally, of course. But the old me. A cold man wanting nothing to do with feelings, love, and shit.”

“You don’t look different,” you say as you look Steve up and down. “Your hair is a little longer, and your beard thicker. Maybe you got some grey strands.” He huffs when you run your fingertips through his hair.

“That’s not what I mean, Y/N. The man I used to be has died the moment you entered my life. I’m glad he died. You’ve changed my life for the better.”

“Steve… that’s… disgustingly sweet. Do you want me to hold you, and pat your head,” you coo and pat his chest. 

“If I didn’t love you so much, you would find yourself bend over my desk, my hand bruising your ass,” he threatens. 

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

He leans closer again to press his lips to your temple.

“I want to go to Paris next month. No discussion.”

“I give you everything you want.”

“If you want to show me you’re truly sorry, you won’t give me what I want. But what I need…” 

You got to give her some faith, hold her tight

A little tenderness gotta treat her right

She will be there for you, takin' good care of you

You really gotta love your woman, yeah

And when you find yourself lyin' helpless in her arms

You know you really love a woman

Tags in reblog.

[kaunis-sielu]

A Payment: 6

“Hi Sweetheart, sorry I had some business to take care of this morning and had to go. How did you sleep last night?”

“Fine.”

“Steven Grant Rogers you are in so much trouble.” Wanda snaps throwing a towel at him that Steve easily catches.

“What? Why?”

“Your wife didn’t eat for twenty-four hours! She didn’t eat at all yesterday!” Steve looks surprised then looks down at you.

“Is that true? You didn’t eat yesterday?”

“I mean, it’s fine I wasn’t really hungry.”

“Queenie, that’s not what I asked.” He says softly and you can’t look at him so instead you stab one of the pieces of pancake on your plate with your fork.

“I didn’t eat yesterday. I was really nervous about everything and then we got busy and stuff so I didn’t eat.”

“Sweetheart,” He rumbles sitting down next to you, “You can’t do that, it’s dangerous.”

“I know, I didn’t do it on purpose. Is there anything that I need to know about where you were this morning?” You ask glancing up at him and he gives you a fond little smile.

“Nah Honey. Just a couple of guys who betrayed my trust and needed to be taught a lesson.” It’s a little unnerving how he can say that with so little concern but if he’s been ingrained in this life as long as you have you’re not surprised that he can.

“Um okay,” You finish eating in silence then go get ready to head back to Boston tomorrow. You haven’t talked with Steve about it but you have an apartment to sell and pack up, you’ve contacted your boss and have been given the okay to work remotely if you can come in for a few days every other month which shouldn’t be a problem. It’s not like it’s a long trip to go to Boston from New York, but you’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a fight with Steve. He’s not going to like you leaving or staying somewhere that isn’t his home, but you’ll get to that when it happens.

“Queenie? What are you doing?” He asks walking into the bedroom.

“I have to go home, to Boston I mean, to pack up my place and sell it.”

“Do you want to go today?”

“My ticket is for tomorrow.”

“Ticket?”

“We take the train.” Steve frowns but doesn’t say anything. “So, it’ll probably take me a couple of days to get everything together. Maybe a week.”

“Oh Doll that’s way too long, let me take you we’ll get everything packed up and moved within three days.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.” You tell him folding another dress and putting it into your suitcase.

“You’re not, I’d kind of like to see the city you’ve called home.” He says, you know that he’s probably going to continue to fight you on this so you give a noncommittal shrug,

“I guess if you want to come with you can. I want to take the train still. I find it relaxing and we have a private car.” He sighs softly but looks down at you fondly.

“Alright, but I’m coming with.” He tells you folding his arms across his chest and it’s your turn to let out a long sigh and he grins.

“If you must.”

“I must.” He steps into your space and you look up at him in surprise. “Stark said that we didn’t act much like a couple in love.”

“Oh? And we care what he thinks because?”

“Because he’s my closest ally. He knows I’d never let my wife go unprotected.” It’s so weird for you to hear him call you his wife.

“You don’t have business to attend to?”

“Nothing I can’t move around.”

“What is your business?” You ask suddenly realizing that you don’t even know his front, a dangerous bit of information to not know in this life.

“I own an airline.” You stop folding the shirt in your hands and blink up at him.

“An airline? One that I might know?”

“Nomad.” Your eyebrows raise, Nomad is one of the best and most popular airlines in the country.

“Oh,” he gives you that little smirk of a smile again and you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Lance has all the information for the train, you’ll need to buy a ticket.”

“Or we could just fly?”

“And add to the pollution that planes already cause?” You ask him sweetly and he grins,

“We’re working toward zero emissions, currently we’re down forty percent in the last five years and I have a huge amount of funding going toward our company going completely green.”

“Okay, that’s pretty impressive.” You admit begrudgingly and he laughs,

“I like impressing you.” He says giving you a look that sends a rush of want through you. What the hell?

“I won’t make it easy.” You warn, and he looks pleased.

“Good, I’ve always liked a challenge.” He gives you a wink then turns and heads out of the room. You finish packing then go to his bookshelf to see if you can find anything worth reading. You grab a book and read until Wanda comes and finds you for dinner. You follow her down to the dining room, you’re surprised when you get to there and you find that instead of it being an empty table with you on one end and Steve on the other the table is full of people. Lance, Bucky, Steve, other people you don’t know. There are only two seats empty, one at Steve’s left and the other next to a tall man with intense eyes and white hair. You freeze in the doorway and Steve’s gaze meets yours,

“Sweetheart. Our family.” He says, “I have a spot here for you.” He gestures to the empty seat to his left and you make your way to the seat then sit down. “You alright?”

“They just, eat with us?”

“Yes, they’re our family and anyone who wants to join our table can.”

“Oh, okay.” Lance, who is seated at your left, touches your arm and when you look up at him he gives you a soft smile,

“Q, this isn’t your father’s home.” He says quietly, he knows that this is a culture shock for you. Your father’s home was cold and formal and lonely. So lonely.

You give him a small smile and pat his arm then focus back on your plate. A piece of ham is slid onto it and when you look up you see Steve giving you a gentle smile.

“How was the rest of your day?”

“Good. I read a book and took a nap. So not overly productive, which is why I like to have a job.”

“You get bored without one?” He asks passing you a bowl of green beans.

“Very much so.”

“Will your job let you stay with them?” You scoop some green beans onto your plate then pass along the bowl to Lance,

“They will..” you admit as you take a scoop of mashed potatoes but you pass on the gravy.

“I feel like there’s a but at the end of that.” Steve says cutting into his ham.

“There is, they want me to come in a few days every other month.” You wait anxiously hoping that he’s not going to tell you no.

“We’ll work something out. I’ll probably send one of mine with you too so you have two people with you. Are you sure you want to sell your place? You’ll need somewhere to stay when you get there.”

“I can always stay at a hotel? My father owns one there.”

“No.” His sharp refusal causes you to blink in surprise.

“What?”

“No. You are not to have any contact with anyone in your father’s business.”

“Excuse me?”

“Am I not being clear?” He asks glancing at you, the words are harsher than the tone is.

“You’re being paranoid.”

“About your safety? Absolutely.” He says calmly and honestly it’s so irritating.

“So what do you propose then?” You challenge him taking a bite of your mashed potatoes.

“I’ll buy a hotel.” You gape at him but he just keeps eating. He’ll buy a whole hotel in Boston just so you have a place to stay for a few days every other month? “Unless you just want to keep your apartment?”

“I feel like it would be cheaper in the long run to just keep my apartment.”

“But a hotel is a good investment and I can make sure security is up to my standards. Pietro?” The white haired young man seated next to Wanda stops talking and looks toward Steve,

“Yea?”

“I want you to find me a hotel to buy in Boston.”

“A hotel?”

“Yea, close to the airport would be preferred so we can do some sort of deal. Fly with us stay with us get a discount. We can also offer a shuttle for additional fee.”

“I’ll get on it tonight.” You stare at Steve in surprise, he just, he decided to buy a hotel for you? Well, okay maybe not for you but because of you?

Tag list:

@andahugaroundtheneck @connie326 @also-fangirlinsweden @lumar014 @loving-life-my-way @pagina16ps @emdying @dumblani @valsworldofcreativity @blackwidownat2814 @sky0401 @dontbescaredtosingalong @abschaffer2 @patzammit @inkedaztec @newdaynewyearnewlife @sophham

[ramp-it-up]

I WONDER

Paring: Mob Boss! Steve Rogers x Reader (Ambrosia)

Word count: 3.4 K.

Summary: You are fed up with the secrets and lies. Now you have a secret of your own. And a decision to make.

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, Lil bit of ANGST. Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. Angst, jealousy, Mob secrets, implied reproductive choice, sort of an ultimatum, reader dons her freakum dress, fingering, semi public sex act, p in v, cream pie, oral (both receiving) breast worship, mid-sex revelation, size kink, breeding kink.

A/N: Based on this ask. This is the third Mob Boss! Steve Fic that comes after All I Want in the This Thing of Ours AU. Also Based on my Candy Hearts Valentine Prompt List found Here. Hope you like it @kenequa​ 💕

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.

Your regular noonday customer Tasha eyed your new stock boys and leaned over to ask you a question.

“That one is Robbie, and you should ask. He’s a sweet guy.”

You replied as if it were no big deal, making your decision at that moment. You turned your head and glanced at the tall blonde.

“That one is Steve, and he is single as a pringle.”

You smiled at her, ignoring the footsteps behind you as you closed the register.

“So now I’m single?”

You felt his hot breath on your neck and your nipples pebbled as he growled into your ear. Damn him.

“Steven. We’ve had this conversation. I can’t be in a relationship with someone who continually lies to me and does things behind my back.”

Steve looked down and his pants got tight at this view of your ass.

“Believe me Ambrosia. I’d love to do things behind your back. And I think you would too. If you would only let me…”

Steve’s broken voice almost broke you, but you took a deep breath and turned around. You gasped at the sight of his face, those lips, and the sense of his smell so close to you. You wanted him, but you couldn’t continue this way.

“Breathe, Baby.”

Your eyes fluttered shut at the heady feeling of lust surrounding you two and you considered relenting. You leaned toward him, wanting to just fall into his arms.

Steve silently cheered inside; you were beginning to break. You’d even shut him out on Valentine’s Day. A month and a half of never letting up the pressure was beginning to pay off.

Or so he thought.

You wouldn’t let Steve fuck you to shut you up. Not again. So you did just what he told you and breathed deeply, lifting your head.

Steve knew that glint in your eye.

“First, you seduced me without telling me that you are one of the most powerful mobsters in New York, then you bought my store without letting me know? You own me now? What else don’t I know about you?”

Steve ran his hand through his hair and backed up.

“You know all you need to know, Ambrosia. I love you.”

You stared hard at him, unrelenting. He continued.

“Listen, everything I do is to protect you. I…”

The bell rang above the door and you turned around to greet the customer. Steve turned to stare at the discounted Valentine’s candy. Then he got an idea.

He grabbed a bag and turned around to the sight of a tall man smiling down at you.

And you had the nerve to smile back at him!

He cleared his throat.

You looked over your shoulder at him. He glowered at you and stalked out.

“Stay here, Robbie. I need to handle some things.”

When you closed the store that Saturday night, you sat on your couch thinking about your relationship. Ever since Christmas morning when you realized what Steve had done and you’d flipped your lid, he’d endured your frosty demeanor.

You felt trapped, and most of all, scared. But you didn’t express that like an adult, you just gave him the cold shoulder. Maybe he finally got the message and moved on.

You fell asleep, full of angst and worry at the situation and awakened at the knock on the door. When you opened it, you greeted a tired looking Steve Rogers with a bag of what smelled like Thai food.

“Can I come in?”

You nodded, stepped back, and walked back over to the couch as Steve entered your apartment and shut the door.

You opened your mouth to say something but Steve raised his hand.

“Just… hear me out, Ambrosia. Today I understood for the first time what you mean. All I’ve done is take from you.”

You shook your head and he raised his hand again.

“I fell in love with you almost the first time I came in here. So I kept coming back, and buying you gifts, and when I asked you out without telling you the truth I took away your choice about whether to date a guy like me. And that was wrong.”

Your heart broke a little bit as he spoke. Steve looked like his heart was breaking too.

“When I saw how you struggle to pay your rent, I bought the mortgage without telling you, and that was wrong. When I saw that guy flirting with you, after I thought briefly about taking his life, I realize that I took your chance for a normal life.”

Your heart started beating faster as you realized what this was.

“Steve…”

“Please let me finish.”

Steve took a deep breath and walked over to the table.

“I’m here to give you some things. Things that you absolutely cannot give back. First, food.”

Your stomach was growling. Steve knew you so well. When you were upset, you didn’t push yourself to eat.

You came and sat down to a heaping plate of food. Steve sat across from you.

“Next comes the story of me and…this thing of ours.”

Steve nodded at your plate because you stopped mid-chew and your eyes got wide.

“You stop eating, I stop talking.”

Steve took a bite and watched you eat, sadness and love in his eyes.

“It started when we were kids. Bucky and I ran the streets of Brooklyn and fell in with this little smartass punk, Brock Rumlow. He was just a kid then. A kid who had a plan to make us the most feared mobsters in the city. He introduced us to Sam.”

You were astonished that Steve was opening up and at the name Rumlow. Everyone knew they were mortal enemies. You made sure to eat so you could hear how everything got to this point.

“I was a fucking runt,” Steve laughed and shook his head. “But they called me Cap ‘cause I was always the first one into a fight…”

An hour and a half later, you were on the couch, enraptured.

“.... and now, Bucky is working his way back to health, getting used to a new way of life. Sam is truly still caught in the middle. And me… well, I have fucked up the one love of my life.”

“Steve… “

He stood up and went back over to the table. He produced a manilla envelope. When it was in your hands, he nodded and you opened it. You dropped it on your lap, hand over your mouth when you saw the contents.

“It’s the deed to your store. I wasn’t trying to own you, or to control you, Ambrosia. I was only trying to protect you. From my life. But I realize now that you need full disclosure. And choice.”

He took you in looking up at him like that.

“God, I love you. You are the woman of my dreams, tough, smart, beautiful. But I want you to have free will.”

“What do you mean?”

Steve stood up and walked to the door. You followed.

“I did some digging today. The only people that know about us are you, me, Bucky, Sam, and Robbie. I thought I was protecting you, but I was just putting you in a cage. This was my escape from that world.”

Steve looked around the small apartment that was your home.

“But I can’t escape. Not just yet. And you’ll be okay if I never come here again.”

Your heart dropped as he let that sink in.

“You are right. If we are to be together, you would have to come into my world. And I don’t know if you are ready for that yet, Ambrosia.”

You were spiraling as Steve opened the door and turned around, leaning on the door frame.

“One more thing.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pink box.

“Happy Belated Valentine’s Day.”

You walked close to him to take the box, staring down at it in his hands. You couldn’t look at him. But he solved that problem by tipping your head up by your chin.

Steve kissed you sweetly, but his tongue swept into your mouth, savoring you as if for the last time. He pulled away, and then leaned back in for another peck.

He stood up, whispered a gruff, “Goodbye, Ambrosia,” and then disappeared out of your life.

You blinked back your flow of tears and looked down at the box in your hands. You opened it, and as you tipped the box, numerous white candies spilled out onto the floor.

You bent down to pick them up.

They all read, I WONDER.

You sat on your couch, the sugary sweets melting with the warmth of your hand. You ran the gamut of emotions: sadness, fear, then anger and frustration.

You thought you’d made the correct decision, but now you realized you had not.

Around one am, Steve was sitting in the VIP of Sam’s club, SamWells, being enveloped by the beat of the music. He couldn’t be alone right now, or he’d either go running back to your place or slip into oblivion up at his.

He didn’t need to think anymore.

Sam had been busting his balls all night, at his sour look, at the fact that he’d been nursing one drink for two hours, anything to get a rise out of him. Steve just stayed silent and sipped his drink, the ice melting slowly.

Suddenly, Sam perked up.

“I think that hottie over there wants you buddy, need to check her out.”

Steve snorted and finally ordered another drink, not looking in the direction Sam indicated.

“Too soon, Sam. I’m not in the mood.”

Sam’s eyes were focused behind Steve.

“I don’t know, Cap. This one seems pretty dope. I think she’s just your type.”

“Sam, I…”

You walked around the booth as Robbie let you into the VIP area. Steve’s mouth dropped open and took you in from head to toe. You were wearing a form fitting black dress and heels. Steve couldn’t stop looking. Then Sam whistled.

“Looking good, Ambrosia!”

Sam stood up and gave you a hug, then pulled back to admire you. Steve did too. You looked amazing.

You tugged at the dress, a little uncomfortable.

“I think it’s too tight. It was at the back of my closet. I wore it once, 10 pounds ago…”

“No. No, no. I think it fits just right. Juuust right. And those 10 pounds seem to be in just the right places.”

Sam twirled you and Steve stood up just as you turned to face him. You laughed and looked up at him, breathless.

He seemed a little jealous. It was hot.

“Wanna continue our conversation, Steve?”

Steve stared down at you, his body feeling one way, wanting to bend you over the booth, but mind wary of everything.

Sam cleared his throat as Steve scanned the club.

“I’ve got something to do over there.”

Neither of you acknowledged his departure, but Steve waved his arm to the booth and you slid into the leather bound seat that smelled like the two friend’s cologne.

“What are you doing here?”

Steve asked the question tersely, still checking the club to see who was there.

“This is dangerous, coming around here like this.”

You scooted closer to him, and eyed him up and down. He had changed into a multicolored polo and wore sunglasses, even though he was inside a club at night. His biceps popped with every move and the tense look on his face made you want to relax him. Hard.

You reached up and took his sunglasses off, glad to be able to look him in the eye.

“That’s funny. I feel super safe right now.”

You put your hand on his thigh, and his muscles tensed.

“Ambrosia. This is nothing to play with.”

Steve looked at you, his eyes falling to your cleavage and licked his lips.

Your hand went up further, and touched the tip of his dick through his pants. He was getting hard.

“Believe me Steve. I would love to play with things, and I think you would too, if you would only let me…”

You started stroking him outside of his pants and he drew in a harsh breath.

“Breathe, Baby.”

Steve did, then he took your hand from his cock and placed both of yours in your lap and held them there.

“What exactly are you here for, Ambrosia?”

You sat back, serious now.

“I’m here for you, Steve. I thought long and hard after you left. I love you.”

“Baby, I…”

“My turn.”

You shook your head and smiled as Steve looked down and started stroking your hand with his thumbs.

“I was thinking that we’re both being a little extra. I didn’t have to be so dramatic after Christmas. And I love that you told me your story, but you didn’t have to. You didn’t have to buy the store, and you certainly didn’t have to give me the deed. And I hate that you have to wonder…”

Steve opened and closed his mouth, letting you continue.

“I know. You are wondering what it would be like if I embraced all of you. And I think I’m ready to.”

Steve’s head snapped up and his eyes were wild.

“You can’t think, Ambrosia. You must know. Because there is no going back. I, and my crew will stop at nothing to protect you. You would be part of the family and that means a blood oath. If you want to love me, you gotta accept me. And the things I do. I’m trying to give you an out.”

You stared at Steve for a long time.

“I don’t want an out. I want you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Surer than sure.”

You smiled as you leaned in for a kiss. Steve stared at you hesitant, scared of what this would mean. When you cocked your head at him and smiled is when he decided.

Steve grabbed you by the back of the neck and pulled you to him, answering your smile with a passionate press of his mouth on yours. He pulled back, and reached for your hips, pulling you onto his leg.

You put your arms around his neck as you peppered his face and head with kisses as Steve felt you up and sucked hickeys onto your neck and cleavage. His hand was at the hem of your dress and moving north as he spoke into your skin.

“…Coming in here dressed like this. Gonna be the death of me. I gotta have you, it’s been too long.”

“Oh.” You breathed into his hair. “I came to get fucked tonight.”

“Holy fuck.”

Steve slapped your thighs.

“Then why are these legs still closed?”

You opened your legs and let his hand into the damp warmth of your inner thighs. He grabbed you at your apex so that you were sitting on his leg and his fingers, his thumb brushing your naked, weeping slit and delving into you. He looked up into your half closed eyes.

“Gotdamn, Ambrosia. You weren’t lying. Want me to fuck you right here?”

Your hand was at the hair on the back of his head now, pulling as he swirled his thumb around your plucky clit. You leaned your head down on his shoulder and whimpered, not answering his question.

Steve continued his assault on your needy pussy until he pulled a shaky, whimpering orgasm from you. It was not enough.

“It’s time you came up to my place.”

You stood up, a little shaky and more so as Steve made you suck his thumb.

“I’d love to see it.”

Steve didn’t say that he wanted more than just for you to see it. He led you over to a wall at the far end of the club, pulling out a remote. Part of the wall slid open to reveal an elevator door which he ushered you into.

“Each of us, Sam, Bucky, and I have our own elevators that go directly to our places. Totally private.”

“Interesting.”

You were on the opposite wall from him as he watched you possessively with his hand in his pocket. The ride seemed to slow down.

“Touch yourself.”

“Why?”

“Because if I touch you, I will fuck you in this elevator and I’m trying to make it to my bed.”

There was a long pause as you each listened to each other breathing.

“And you shouldn’t be untouched, Ambrosia.”

You put your hands in your hair and moved them down around your neck, trailing your cleavage.

Steve leaned back against the wall, his eyes blue fire as your hands roamed your own body and the places he wanted to be. He palmed himself over his pants and you whimpered.

“Don’t worry. You’re gonna get this dick.”

You started pulling your nipples through the material of your dress and Steve opened his mouth to lick his lips.

“They look so fucking big and beautiful. I’m gonna cum all over them.”

You were reaching for the hem of your dress when the doors opened. Steve came for you and you jumped up onto him, his hands holding you up by your ass as he propelled you through a dark and richly appointed space until your back hit a door.

“I’ll give you a proper tour when we come up for air.”

You chuckled.

“So I’ll never get a tour?”

Steve laughed too.

“You may be right.”

He reached for the knob and soon you were on your back on the softest king sized bed you’d ever experienced.

Steve was tearing off his clothes as you pulled your dress over your head. Steve beat you to your heels, unbuckling them and kissing your feet up to your calves. He pushed your legs apart so that he could see you fully. His hand traced your lips and he smiled.

“My sweet petals. Long time no see.”

“Are you… are you talking to my pussy?”

You huffed, indignant.

“I’m talking to MY pussy. Private conversation. I guess I’ll just have to whisper.”

Steve glided up your apex and made out with your cunt like it was going out of style. He suckled your clit gently at first, then with more pressure as he came up and inserted two fingers inside you.

“Still so so tight…”

He scissored his fingers as he pulled another orgasm from you, stroking his cock as your desperate cries reached his ears.

“Gotta get you ready for me.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he kneeled up and stroked his cock, lining it up at your soaked opening.

You keened as he pushed his thick tip inside you, your wetness making the most deliciously pornographic sounds, along with his outright moans for you as you squeezed him.

Your mouth opened at the sting of his size, but relished the full feeling. You loved being full of Steve Rogers

“Ambrosia, Ambrosia, Ambrosia….shittttt.”

When he started moving, the slap, slick, slap, slick sound made his eyes roll back.

“Who got you so wet, Ambrosia? So wet and so tight. Tell me.”

You whimpered your way through your explanation as he started fucking you harder.

“Hnnnnnhhhh. You, Steve. Always you. Only you.”

You were grabbing your own bouncing breasts absentmindedly and it made Steve pulse inside you.

“Fuck yes, show me those tits, point them at me because I’m… uggghhh.”

Steve sped up again. He was watching your erect nipples and areola bounce as you held them up for him to witness the bounteous beauty of them being knocked up to your face by his thrusts.

“So fucking beautiful. I’m gonna….Fucckkkkkkk!”

Steve thought he would black out at the image you just presented him. But he just fucked you harder, faster, better.

“Cum on me cum in my mouth cum on my tits Stevie….”

“Oh my goddddd.”

Steve pulled out and shot pearlescent white cum on your chest and in your mouth. You grabbed his softening dick and he rolled over on his back as you cleaned him up, sucking him dry.

“That little hot mouth of yours, Ambrosia. Fuck.”

You smiled and started stroking him, your breasts still covered in cum. As he watched you, you watched his cock come back to life.

“Holy Shit, Ambrosia.”

Steve grabbed you and turned around, pressing your head into the bed so that you gave him the arch he was looking for. He slid into you from behind, back into heaven.

“You make me feel like I could do this all fucking night, Ambrosia…fuck.”

Steve grabbed your arm and twisted it behind your back as he pounded you and you begged him.

“Please please please cum inside me Steve, give it to me.”

Steve grunted.

“You saying you want my baby inside you?”

You moaned.

“It already is, Daddy.”

Steve pulled you up by your hair. He stopped because he didn’t quite hear what you’d said.”

“What did you say?”

“I said. I already have your baby inside me, Daddy.”

Steve pulled out of you and then held your face in his hands.

“How?”

You laughed at him.

“What do you mean, how?”

“I mean, when?”

“Probably Christmas. The last time we…I took a test two weeks ago. I’m probably about six weeks along.”

“Were you going to tell me?”

Steve sat back on his haunches, his erection fading.

“I’m telling you now. Just like you told me over six months after you started pursuing me about your situation.”

You reached for his head and made him look you in the eye.

“I thought I’d made the right choice, to cut ties and… well, when you left me, left us tonight I realized what I truly wanted. I want you. And I want this baby. I choose you to be the father of my child.”

You kissed Steve and he took you down to the bed.

“Do you want this?”

Fear bloomed inside you as Steve’s hand slid down your torso to your belly. He looked back up at you, eyes shining.

“Yes! Please…please have my baby Ambrosia. I promise I’ll never let anyone hurt you. Including me.”

“Okay.”

Steve kissed your belly and then pulled you under him to kiss your lips as you wrapped your legs around him and reached between you to stroke him back to life.

“Fuck, mama. What are you doing to me?”

Steve rutted into your hand.

“You were about to blow my back out Daddy. Get to it.”

You spit into your hand to lubricate him better and you looked like a vixen as he fell under your spell.

“Ugh! So nasty...”

You twisted so that you were again as up underneath him and wiggled your ass against his now hard length again.

You lifted your hips and Steve slid inside you, your warm wetness clenching his wide girth again.

“Fuckkkk, Stevie.”

The way you whimpered for him made Steve pushed your head back down. He started delivering the back shots immaculately, slowly, deep and hard, watched your cream froth around him, the vision of where you two were connecting making him even harder.

Then, he sped up and spilled everything inside you as you screamed for it, cumming around him and milking him for all that he was worth.

When you opened your eyes, Steve was smiling at you.

“What?”

“I’m just so happy.”

“Happy that I came here, or happy that we came. Or happy about little Stevie?”

He chuckled, “Little Stevie Hunh?”

He kissed you again.

“All three.”

Steve stood up and grabbed your hand.

He grabbed your neck and kissed you until you were breathless.

“Sounds like a plan, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve smiled at you and refrained from calling you Mrs. Rogers in return.

That was a title for another day.

[simmerandwrite]

Sink Into Me - 03 - mob!Steve Rogers x plus size! reader

Summary: You were simply doing a good deed, pulling the handsome stranger out of the way when a car jumped the curb. Little did you know that the life you saved belonged to Steve Rogers, the Army veteran turned art dealer with connections to the Brooklyn crime syndicate.

Steve Rogers, who won’t stop calling you his guardian angel.

Steve Rogers, whose new goal in life just might be repaying his debt to you.

Steve Rogers, who isn’t shy until it comes to his feelings and will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Chapters: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08

Wordcount: 6.5k

Warnings: canon level violence (series), body image issues (series), smut (series)

Notes: Hey! This is coming out later than I wanted but life is busy these days so this story is taking a back seat. Thank you to everyone who has read so far - I appreciate all the interest! While I also appreciate every single ‘like’ on the chapters, a comment or reblog goes a long way to let me know how you are enjoying the story :) Trust me when I say a nice comment or reaction gif can really make a writer’s day and I would love to hear from you all! ( if you see me in the wild, i’m @simmerandcry​)

----

The weeks of your life following the event at your apartment felt like a blur.

A lot of positives had unintentionally come from the whole experience. First, you had crossed into a friendship zone with Steve. If that’s what you wanted to call it. You both seemed to toe the line between friendly and flirty and you had no idea what it meant. Sometimes you simply traded thoughts sparingly during the day and other times there were almost-cheeky messages after the sun went down.

He had graciously supplied you with a new phone to replace yours and even put you in touch with a dog daycare in the neighbourhood that a friend of his operated, in case you wanted to look into it for Hercules. 

Outside of all the positives though came the heavy downside to your entire experience. It felt like you barely slept anymore. Steve had very kindly returned back to your apartment the next day and even communicated with your landlord about repairing your door and window, and when a security camera was installed one day, you figured Steve had a hand in that too.

It didn’t stop you from feeling paranoid anytime you were there alone. You rushed home from work most days and crashed while the sun was still up, but once the darkness rolled in, every single noise outside made you feel nervous. Although you believed Steve when he said he would ‘take care’ of things, you couldn’t help but feel less and less secure as you grew more and more sleep deprived.

It was just another reason to break your lease and move on, but the idea of apartment shopping and moving was both a financial burden and a huge stressor added onto your life. Instead, you just powered through and hoped your fears would eventually subside, even if that felt impossible. 

At least when you weren’t home, you were less anxious about everything.

“You look more exhausted everytime I see you,” Claire had nearly begged you to meet her for brunch on your day off while she was in between shifts. “Did things escalate with Steve the mobster?”

You rolled your eyes, stabbing your fork into the syrupy waffles sitting in front of you. “No, no. We talk sometimes but..” You tried to hide the excitement on your face when you saw a message come in from him. Not that you had been anxiously waiting for a reply from him or anything.

You [11:31AM]: dropped off Hercules for his trial at daycare today! Thanks again for the rec :) Steve Rogers [11:50AM]: Happy to help the little guy out, sweetheart. Kate will take good care of him, I promise Steve Rogers [11:51AM]: Let me know how it goes!

Fuck, it was those petnames that got you. It had to be flirting if he was calling you sweetheart, right? 

Sweetheart, honey, baby, doll..

Not that you wanted to admit it, but it had been a long time since you had felt any kind of emotional reaction to another person like this. Your last situationship had been with a coworker months ago and it had not gone well for you when it crashed and burned. This kind of twist in your heart when you talked to Steve was scary. Almost scarier than the idea of your apartment being broken into, really. To feel wanted by another person, romantically or physically or both, was intimidating and hard to believe.

But the more you got to know Steve, the more worth it the risk seemed. 

You shook your head of those thoughts and caught Claire’s cheeky smile as you put your phone away.

“Was that him now?”

“Yes, it was but-”

“Ahhh. I knew it. You have the anxious glow of someone in the early stages of crushing.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Claire, it’s not like that.”

“Are you sure? Because honestly if any man is giving you his time and communicating and making you check your phone obsessively…” She gave you a look when you checked on your buzzing phone again. “Having feelings for another person isn’t a bad thing, you know.”

Maybe it was the fatigue, maybe it was the pull in your heart. Either way, you trusted Claire and without even meaning to, your insecurities spilled out. “Claire, he’s way out of my league. He’s a 10 and at my best I’m sure I’m not the type usually on his radar. Our lifestyles are so vastly different, I’m guessing all his kindness is to remedy the guilt he feels over my saving his life. Whatever this is..” you grabbed your phone and waved it around. “..is bound to fizzle out when he loses interest or thinks he has put in enough time. It’s just how these things work.”

You hadn’t even realized your eyes were squeezed shut but when you opened them, Claire was staring you down as if you had two heads. 

“You just gave me like half a dozen reasons why you think this guy wouldn’t be into you. But has he told you otherwise?”

You paused. No, it hadn’t been explicitly clear what Steve’s intentions were. Maybe he was just kind, maybe he thought you were friends. Or maybe he was interested in more. 

“You’ll never know if you don’t ask, babe.” Claire took a sip of her coffee cup and her eyes widened. “You should make a move.”

“What? Like asking him out? Absolutely not.”

“Just dial up the flirtatious chatter. Send him a late night selfie, something a little bit sexy.”

“Claire. I can’t.”

“Uhm, you totally can. You told me you sent some pretty risky things to that idiot from your work last year sooooo take the leap.” She clapped her hands together before raising her fists in a mock cheer. “Leap of faith, leap of faith!” 

“Okay, okay.” You couldn’t help but laugh as you tried to quiet her across the table. “I will try the photo thing. But if he rejects me and I get sad about it, you’re in charge of my emotional repair. Deal?”

“Deal.”

---

Steve tried very hard to keep a clear line between his work and personal life. When he was meeting with a client or getting his hands messy taking care of less than legal business, he was in work mode. It helped that he was an independent person, keeping his personal attachments to a minimum as best as he could. 

But with you, his lines were starting to blur. It hadn’t made much of an impact yet but when your name showed up on his phone or your face crossed his mind, he tried to dismiss it until he could give you all his attention. 

The ‘No Phone’ policy at Billy Russo’s poker game helped that, thankfully. The game was really less of a formality now, another opportunity to discuss business behind closed doors. And once the cards were piled up and every chip was cashed out and accounted for, that’s when the important conversations took place. 

The backroom of Russo’s newest warehouse served as a perfect backdrop for them - with subtle tinted windows looking out towards the Hudson. The high ceilings echoed with their idle chatter. Sam had moved away from the table to flirt with the bartender, leaving Steve and Bucky with Russo and his own partner in crime, Frank Castle. But despite the gameplay and niceties, Steve had an agenda. 

“To answer your question,” Russo set down his crystalline glass and leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised as a smirk grew on his face. “Of course Rumlow came to chat. I humoured the man but can you blame me?”

“He wants storage space,” Castle added in, answering the question before Steve or Bucky could even wonder.

Steve nodded. It wasn’t a secret that the docks, operated by Castle and Russo, had notorious clientele in the darkness of night. But Steve was their biggest partner and their working relationship had been ongoing for nearly a decade.

“Which we won’t give him, of course. I’m not an idiot. I know the rules.” Russo shrugged. “But I gotta tell you, Rogers - he’s getting pushy.”

To Steve’s left, Bucky grumbled. “If I see one of his guys out there with that new shit again, I’m finishing this. Discussion over.”

“Hey.” Steve reached his hand out to rest on Bucky’s shoulder. “One step at a time.”

“Becca said she heard about another kid, you know. Hospitalized because of that new shit.”

Steve’s lips tightened into a line. His biggest rule for anyone crossing his boundaries - no targeting the high schools. And this new stuff Rumlow had introduced, some unstable, addictive upper - it had already been making a mess. Steve knew he couldn’t control the movement of drugs and hey, why would he want to? It was lucrative for him. A twenty percent cut across the board kept his bank accounts padded. But the way Rumlow had started bleeding in, against Steve’s rules, it was getting out of hand. 

“At least what you did to Walker scared him off for the time being,” Castle laughed, getting up to get a refill of his whisky. “What I wouldn’t give to see that guy’s smashed up face.”

Bucky smirked. “It wasn’t pretty.”

“He made his bed, sending that driver after my property. Then showing up to scare a witness who has no connection to this? He’s a bastard. You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.” Steve tilted his head. “I think we’ve been clear enough for the time being. Just let me know if you see Rumlow again. Because if there is a next time, I'll deal with it myself.”

Russo stood up as Steve did, extending a gracious hand as a thank you. “So - to the club? I’m looking for an unforgettable evening.”

Steve laughed, extending his arm over the man’s shoulder. “Oh, I can promise you one.”

“Should I call up Meredith? Let her know she can come meet us?”

Steve politely ignored Russo’s bait. It had been an ongoing thing for months now - with Billy trying desperately to arrange a relationship between his sister and Steve. Quite frankly, it was embarrassing. Sure, Meredith Russo was a beautiful girl but Steve had decided a long time ago that if he was ever going to settle down with someone, it had to be genuine and not for the long term sake of a business relationship.

As they headed towards Shield , with Rumlow and Russo driving ahead while Steve and Bucky got into their awaiting car with Katy at the wheel, Steve finally checked his phone. How could he even humor the idea of Russo’s sister when there you were, sending him a few late night messages. And when he realized you had sent a photo…

You [11:45PM]: best method to tire yourself out before bed? You [11:51PM]: I’ve tried everything. currently I’ve decided to just bake cookies instead You [11:52PM]: (IMG-6521)

“Please tell me you’re pursuing that.”

Steve rolled his eyes when he saw Bucky leaning over to look at his phone screen. “Eyes to yourself, punk.” He sent his elbow across the backseat and nudged Bucky in the ribs.

As much as Steve knew he had to be rational before letting you further into his life, damnit - how could he think with his upstairs brain when you were sending him photos like that? Because even in the fluorescent lights of your tiny apartment kitchen, you were a sight to be reckoned with. From your casually messy hair to your revealing tank top to the way you were biting your lip… The tight feeling in his pants was another important reason to try and focus on his rational brain, the one who did things correctly to win you over. 

But he wasn’t sure how much longer this type of talking was going to work for him. Sure, he wanted to get to know you better but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to get his hands all over you, too. He had a feeling you and him would go together so well.

He took in a deep breath and finally formulated a reply.

S Rogers [12:29AM]: I can think of a few ways to tire you out before bed, baby S Rogers [12:29AM]: and what I’d give to taste whatever you’re making  S Rogers [12:34AM]: I won’t invite myself over but when can I see you? I need to see you. are you free tomorrow?

---

You nearly threw up when Steve asked you out. And as the minutes ticked by Sunday morning before you were to meet him for lunch, your nerves were getting the best of you.

I need to see you. 

That meant he was interested, right? You had left a series of frantic voice messages for Claire, praying that she’d enjoy them on her morning break and true to her nature, she had calmed you down with a few positive affirmations and some advice for the sudden date.

You could do this. He wanted to see you. What was the issue?

The issue, perhaps, was your lack of sleep and how exhaustion was slowly creeping up on you. Maybe this was all a weird dream and you’d be showing up to lunch alone. 

I need to see you. 

Dressed in your favourite date outfit, which toed the line between casual and trying too hard, you headed towards the little lunch spot Steve had suggested. When you found him outside waiting for you, a wave of relief settled in your chest. There he was. 

God, he was handsome. The mustard yellow striped shirt he was wearing hugged his chest perfectly, accentuating his biceps - which you suddenly had an urge to squeeze. You weren’t sure anyone else could pull off such a look paired with black slacks and dress shoes, but Steve managed it. Maybe it had something to do with his confident energy.

When he noticed you down the block, the grin on his face grew. 

God, he was handsome.

You remained as composed as possible while he greeted you with a hug, not before pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. With a squeeze of your hand, he led you inside and immediately the server placed you both at a small table near the window.

You thought it might be awkward - the next part. The gradual move into ‘get to know you’ type of questions, but with Steve, it felt easy. Way easier than you could have anticipated. He casually ordered for you both once he confirmed your choice and cradled your hand in his across the table as you chatted.

The details in his face were so obvious in this setting - the golden blonde in his beard, the crinkles beside his eyes when he laughed, the shine of his blue eyes. You had a hard time looking away, because you felt so captured by him. And you didn’t want to jinx it, but you had a feeling that maybe he felt the same way too.

“I don’t know.” With your lip trapped between your lips, you scanned his face and held back a smile. “I think you’re lying. I find it really hard to believe that The English Patient is your favourite movie.”

“Oh, come on,” Steve laughed, pausing to take a sip of his coffee cup as he narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think that?”

“Gut feeling,” you replied with a shrug, tipping your head from side to side. “And I cannot imagine you deciding to put on a movie to relax and picking that.”

He pursed his lips for a moment then finally, his shoulders sunk down. “Okay, you caught me. My favourite movie is Singing in the Rain.”

You couldn’t help but let out an excited laugh, smile wide as you watched him. “Amazing. Unexpected, really, but somehow that feels just right.”

“What’s amazing is you saw right through me. I promise I’ll never lie to you again,” Steve crossed over his heart with his index finger before reaching his hand out again and tugging yours away from the edge of your water glass. “And now to be very honest about something - this , you and me, it somehow feels just right, too.”

You couldn’t get over his bold words but thank god he said it. What was this mysterious feeling that seemed to be sucking you both in, head first? You squeezed his hand and did everything in your power not to pinch yourself. 

You could just feel it, enveloping you without hesitation - you were falling hard, already. It was a risk but you tried to remind yourself of what Claire had said: stop playing it safe, take the leap..

Steve barely humoured you when you offered to pay for the meal once the cheque arrived at the table. He spared you a quick glance over the billfold then took care of it with a swift flick of his wrist, sending the server away without another word.

Steve’s voice brought you back to the present, after momentarily losing yourself in him again. Your eyes had been fixated on the small area of skin on display above the buttons of his shirt, showing off just a hint of both chest hair and the ink of tattoos that were hiding beneath his gold chain. 

With a small smile, you finally looked up and met his grin. “Sorry to stare. I was just trying to figure out your tattoos.” You watched as he swallowed hard, as if trying to contain his response.

Steve cleared his throat, motioning to the door as you both stood up. “Do you have any?” Using his closest hand, he splayed his palm against your lower back as you headed outside together.

You paused once you were back on the sidewalk, accepting the suggestion as Steve offered to walk you home. “I have one lonely tattoo.”

“And where is that hiding?”

“That is a secret.” You turned and looked at him over your shoulder as you started in the direction of your apartment. 

Within a few strides, he caught up and reached for your hand. Jesus Christ, you were holding hands. How were you supposed to keep your composure?

Steve carried on, with no intention to skip over the tattoo topic. “At least tell me what the tattoo is of?”

“Just a song lyric that reminds me of my mom. I know that’s a bit silly.”

“I think that’s sweet. You’re close with her?”

“Oh yeah. She’s my best friend. I wish I could see her more but she refuses to move back to the city. She has a good circle out in Albany though so I try not to worry about her.”

“And your dad?”

“Uhm, non-existent.” You glossed over that quickly, tugging Steve along as you ventured through a crowd at the crosswalk. “What about you and nurse Sarah?”

“My ma - she’s whole heart. I almost lost her once and..” he trailed off, as if experiencing a jolt of unwelcome pain. “She’s the most important woman in my life.”

Once you got back to your apartment, you had a feeling Steve didn’t want things to come to an end yet. And truthfully, you didn’t either. Maybe inviting him in was too soon, especially in the middle of a Sunday afternoon, but he happily agreed to join you as you took Hercules for a walk. 

You regaled Steve with the dramatic story about how you adopted Hercules (“He was my first attempt at fostering a dog and I immediately fell in love.”)

Steve told you about how he enlisted with Bucky and Sam after college. You traded stories about figuring your lives out in the city after your careers got started.

Before you realized it, you had looped around the block numerous times until finally, Steve remorsefully shared that he had some work things to take care of and he had to get going. 

“I wish we could just keep going with whatever this is,” he insisted with a sad smile. Slowly, he reached his hand out and cradled your cheek. “Can I see you again? Dinner this week?”

“You want to see m-” You cut yourself off. Was now really the time to be filling your mind with self doubt? You were already putty in his hands, if it wasn’t obvious enough. “Yes, I’d love that.” It pained you but you knew your work week ahead was a bit intense. “Wednesday?”

Steve tipped his head back and groaned, very dramatically. “I guess I can wait until Wednesday.” He dragged his tongue across his lips, his hand travelling from your cheek towards your neck. “But in the meantime, I don’t think I’ll be able to wait until then to do this..” He met your eyes for an extra moment, waiting for your permission.

You had barely nodded your head before Steve tipped his head down and pressed his lips to yours. To describe Steve as eager would have been a disservice - but damn, the man was hungry. His lips moved in a way that seemed both calculated and feverish, leaving you catching your breath and Steve letting out a quiet growl for more.

The strap of Hercules’ leash dropped from your hand and before you realized it, Steve had caught it with his free hand, pulling away from you with a coy grin.

“Wednesday,” you whispered out the words, happily taking the leash back from Steve. “We should do more of that Wednesday.”

---

You [4:01PM]: crisis alert - Steve kissed me after our date  You [4:01PM]: and it was so good. SO GOOD.  Wanda [4:02PM]: !!!!! Wanda [4:03PM]: why is this a crisis? You [4:05PM]: I need to be grounded in reality  Maria [4:05PM]: don’t worry, I’m always here to burst your bubble about some average man  Claire [4:06PM]: let’s hope he’s above average Claire [4:07PM]: girl, get it. the real crisis is your underwear drawer, probably  You [4:08PM]: wow, ouch  You [4:08PM]: you’re probably right  Maria [4:08PM]: booooooo

---

Steve was trying so hard to do this correctly. He could take any girl to dinner then back to his bed, but with you, he was strategizing. The extended lunch date had been step one. And leaving you with just a kiss, despite his undying desire for all of you, he was trying to establish this was important to him. 

You were important to him. 

Just getting to know you and seeing your smile, and God, hearing you laugh - he was done for. He hadn’t felt this way before and he didn’t want to fuck it up. It wasn’t lost on him how rare this flood of feelings were - when was the last time he anxiously paced around his office, half-assing his check-ins, delegating more than he normally would, daydreaming about you, counting down the minutes until he picked you up?

It didn’t help that you two had spent the last few nights on the phone, talking way later than either of you probably needed to be awake. But it seemed you couldn’t help yourselves.

When you messaged him about working late then picking up Hercules late and that you were running behind, he frowned. 

You [5:57PM]: I’m really sorry Steve [5:57PM]: It’s okay, I had just gotten to my car You [5:58PM]: Well, if you want to head over now - if you don’t mind waiting, you can come in and hang with Herc :) 

You greeted him at the door, already apologizing profusely for not being ready on time. How could he be mad when he got to see this side of you - in between outfits and still smiling so nervously? 

“I pushed the reservation,” Steve assured you with a wave of his hand, resisting the urge to push you against the closest wall and pick up where you left off earlier that week. “Take your time.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you offered him another nervous smile before turning, heading back towards your bathroom. “I’ve been taking naps after work the last few weeks but working late today has just thrown me off. I swear I’m usually not like this..”

“It's okay, you’re giving me time to befriend Hercules anyway.” Steve took a seat on your couch, happy to spend the next few minutes playing with your dog while you got ready. 

He couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but something about your energy seemed off. Maybe it was nerves, but after things had ended so positively following your lunch date, he hoped it was good nerves, at least. Positive energy, if possible. The connection between you had struck him so furiously, he supposed it made sense to look at it from a realistic perspective too, but he wanted you to be excited, not anxious. 

As he leaned back into the cushions, he felt something poke into his back. Curious, he leaned forward again and twisted, eyebrows raising as he found a small cast iron frying pan lodged between your pillows. 

Steve considered himself a very intuitive person. Once he took a half second to analyze your space, he was coming to a conclusion he hoped wasn’t true. Tipping his head to the side, he scanned the doorway. The landlord had quickly removed the broken door and replaced it with something more secure, thanks to a strongly worded phone call and thinly veiled threat from Steve. And yet, you kept a spare dining chair propped up behind it. 

Behind him, the window above your couch had also been replaced - and you had left the protective plastic on the new pane, plus added an extra blanket to cover it up.

He stood up and took a few paces further into your apartment, sparing a glance into the kitchen. You had moved your knife block closer to the edge of the counter.

“Do you think those guys are going to show up again? At my apartment?”

Steve let out a quiet sigh, desperate to keep a rational mind as he called out your name.

“I’m almost ready!” You called back through the bathroom door, opening it slowly to find Steve’s concerned face. Your bathroom was tiny and even in the doorway, it seemed as if Steve was already inside the room with you. “Is everything okay?”

He nodded, barely. Steve sucked in a breath, dragging a hand across his jaw as he flicked his gaze down to watch you through the mirror. Fuck, he just had to ask. “I think so... But why did I just find a frying pan behind your couch cushions?”

Slowly, you brought your hand back down and rested it on the sink, meeting Steve’s eyes in the mirror. “Oh, uh.. I must have forgotten it there..”

He could see your immediate distress, the way you held your breath and gripped the edge of the countertop. “I mean, I know you have a small kitchen but if you are using your couch for storage..” Steve said your name, confidently calling your bluff as he searched for the explanation. He reached his hand out and rested it on your shoulder. “Hey, talk to me.”

You closed your eyes. “I can’t really explain..” You swallowed hard, head moving side to side in a curt shake. “I understand if you want to leave.”

His head shook slowly, one eyebrow drawing upwards in concern. “What? Why would I do that?”

“I could think of a dozen reasons why you’d want to bail now.”

“And I can think of a dozen reasons to stay.” He lifted his hand and cradled your chin, encouraging you to look in his direction. “Sweetheart, tell me what’s going on. Just try and explain it, please. I’m listening.”

Maybe you were tired, maybe you had nothing to lose. Taking a deep breath, everything just spilled out. “Fine. I.. I can’t sleep anymore. I’m scared here all the time and I don’t know what to do. I can’t afford to even think about looking for a new place so I’m hoping this’ll just go away and, well, I know this is a lot. Too much, probably. I’m too much - it’s okay if you don’t want to deal with it.” You choked out a laugh. “It’s not like I’d be able to attack someone if they broke in again! I mean, look at me - what kind of insane person hides wannabe weapons around her home, just in case? What am I going to do - attack some gun wielding idiot with a frying pan? I just.. it’s a dumb precaution I guess.” You shook your head, tearing your eyes away from Steve. “I’m scared. And tired, so tired.”

Steve took in a deep breath, then leaned in to press a kiss to the top of your head. With a few quiet words and his guidance, you were suddenly sitting on the closed toilet seat while he crouched in front of you. 

“You’re not too much.” He rested his hands on your knees, thumbs swooping in circles against your skin. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

You shrugged, letting out a deflated laugh. “We met like five minutes ago. I don’t do this sort of thing-” You motioned between yourself and Steve, “-often and I’m worried I’m screwing it all up. Having irrational fears about living in my own home - you don’t want to deal with that.”

Steve sighed. If anyone was going to screw up, he knew it wouldn’t be you. “Contrary to what you might think, I don’t do this much either.” He motioned between you both the same way. “So, let's try and deal with this ‘scared to sleep’ thing together.” He offered you a small smile. “First thing - how about a nap?” He was confident that your door and window were secure though he was determined to check on those things later, too.

“But you made reservations and-”

He waved his hand, dismissing your argument. “C’mon. Do you think you’ll sleep better if I’m watching guard from the living room?”

A frown returned to your face. “I guess. But I bet I would have the most success if you were.. in bed beside me.”

Steve laughed, brushing his tongue over his lips to focus his thoughts. “I’m trying to be a gentleman, sweetheart.”

“We’ll keep it PG..” You stifled a yawn. “I promise.”

---

You half expected Steve to be gone when you finally stirred from your sleep. Even if he had crawled into the bed beside you and draped his arm over you, with one cautious hand rubbing your back as you drifted asleep. 

But when you woke up, he was still on the bed. He had shifted slightly to sit up against the headboard, typing on his phone. The glow of his screen and your bedside table lamp cast a glow across his stoic features. 

When he noticed you stirring, he turned his gaze in your direction. “Hey you.”

“Hi,” you replied quietly, propping yourself up onto your elbows. “Hope I didn’t sleep too long.”

“About an hour,” Steve answered, reaching his hand over slowly and brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Seems like you needed it though. The pillow drool is evidence.”

“Nooo,” you pushed his hand away and tried to hide under the blankets. “Let’s pretend you didn’t see that. Drool is for third dates, at the earliest.” 

“Wanna come somewhere with me? I know it’s not the date we had planned but I need to check out one of my buildings.” Steve reached over and tugged down the blanket. “What do you say? We can bring Hercules too.”

You could already hear your excited pup getting up from his perch on the hallway floor outside your room, excited to be included in whatever the plan was. You appreciated Steve’s ongoing inclusion of your son. “Sure. I’m sorry I turned our evening into this.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, sweetheart.” 

You were quick to get ready again, although with a bit less attention to detail since your fancy dinner reservations had gone out the window. By the time you put yourself together and headed to Steve’s car, you couldn’t hide your loud, hungry stomach.

And instead of letting you dismiss your hunger, Steve doubled down and insisted he take you by his favourite pizza place on the way to his property. You laughed when he claimed it was a Brooklyn institution, deserving of every single pizza award in existence. You didn’t have the heart to tell him it was fine and your own preferred spot was way better. It probably wasn’t the right time to have a playful argument with him while he was greeted so warmly by the owners of the pizza shop.

One thing you appreciated immensely about Steve already was how much he seemed to care about Hercules and how he was a part of your life. Steve didn’t even hesitate to let him into his very fancy car and even mentioned that moving forward he’d try to bring a bigger vehicle to better accommodate your son.

Although you couldn’t be certain, from the way he discussed it, Steve clearly owned multiple properties of varying purposes. The building he eventually parked in front of was what looked like a refurbished apartment building. It was on a quiet street just a few blocks from Steve’s own apartment.

“Wow,” your commentary spilled out when you got out of the car, guiding Hercules along too. “You sure he can come in here?”

Steve grabbed your free hand and nodded. “Of course, this is a pet friendly building. Actually, it even has a mini dog park off the left side beyond the community room.” 

You followed where he motioned beside the building, craning your neck to see a tall fence beside the far wall. “You’re kidding. Dang, a real luxury building, Herc. What a dream.”

“You have no idea,” Steve joked, pausing outside the door before someone appeared to let you in. “Thanks, Barton.” Steve turned and introduced you to the man as you walked in.

“Nice to meet you,” you said to Clint, who Steve described as a ‘jack of all trades’ property manager who helped maintain all of Steve’s buildings. “This place seems amazing.”

“You know how that phrase goes, right?” Clint threw up his elbow to nudge at Steve as you all headed to the elevator. “Jack of all trades, master of none?”

“Hey, you’re a master of a lot of stuff, I know. You should see this guy play darts,” Steve shot you a small glance and winked.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Rogers. Let me show you that newly vacated unit - third floor.”

You weren’t sure what the weird non-talking was that seemed to be going on between Steve and his friend, but you figured it wasn’t your place to ask. It seemed as if everything Clint was saying and explaining to you, he needed Steve’s approval for it. 

By the time you got to your destination, Clint had gone through a thorough list of amenities about the building. You weren’t sure why he was doing that either - you figured Steve must already know about the building since he owned it but it was nice to hear about. Beyond the dog park, there was a small coffee shop being added to the lobby, plus there was a full gym and rooftop deck area for all tenants to use at their leisure. Full time doorman, co-working space, parcel delivery, basement storage, bike storage, garbage pickup.. It was beyond luxury.

Clint flipped through his keychain and let you and Steve into one of the units on the corner, then excused himself on a phone call.

“This building is amazing. Wait, I already said that. Incredible, there we go.” You took a few more steps in, taking in the bright lights and clean lines of the one bedroom apartment. “Wow.” While the bar for what you considered a decent apartment was low, this place was still impressive.

It wasn’t much bigger than your own place but the layout made way more sense and it was clearly recently renovated, with a small kitchen full of new cabinetry on the left wall that opened up into the main living room space. And god, the windows were huge - giving a nice view into the streets of Brooklyn. And shit - what was a dishwasher?

You looked back at Steve, who was watching you from his little pose leaning against the door. “Did you just need to see the unit to make sure it was all clean for the next person?” Truthfully, that didn’t make much sense but you seriously could not pinpoint why Steve had any interest in checking out the apartment.

He shook his head, a growing grin on his face as he pushed off from his pose. “Did you see the in-unit laundry?” In a few strides he pulled open a closet door to reveal a stackable washer and dryer unit. “Big closet in the bedroom too.” 

You followed him into the bedroom, which shared the same view as the living room with windows that reached the ceiling. “It’s so nice. Whoever moves in next better appreciate it.” Your eyebrow raised up, curious when Steve started wringing his hands together, nervous. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yes,” he hesitated, tipping his head side to side before he took a step closer to you near the window. “I’m just trying to figure out how to approach this right. This apartment.. I want to offer it to you.” He pointed his fingers out through his clasped hands, waiting for your reaction. “What do you think?”

You laughed at the idea, unable to even take him seriously. “There is no way I can afford this place, Steve. Thank you but..”

“Don’t let the price be an issue.”

You scrunched up your face, keeping a firm grip on Hercules’ leash. “You can’t just give me an apartment.”

“I’m not,” He smiled, soft and honest. “I mean, I would but.. I’ll match your current rent. No deposit, no extra fees. You’ve got to let me give you back your sense of security. It’s killing me knowing you’ve lost that.” Though your resistance was wavering, he tried to reassure you. “Just think about it, okay? I promise I don’t have any ulterior motives. I just.. your safety is important to me. And I told you - a thousand favours.”

You closed your eyes, juggling both the uncertainty and excitement of possibility in your mind. “Steve, an apartment is worth a lot of favours, I think.”

“Do you know the exact exchange rate of rental property to favours? We could start a spreadsheet maybe..” His cheeky grin was practically spilling off his face. “You deserve to feel safe in your own home, sweetheart. Hercules too.”

With a gentle poke you tapped against his chest. “Just let me think about this one?”

“Okay, okay. Whenever you decide, whatever you decide, you let me know and we’ll get things sorted with Clint.” Steve took another step closer and slowly brought his hands up to your cheeks again, nibbling his own lip as he took you in. “Now, how about a sleepover tonight? I think we have some unfinished business from our last date.”

---

< Chapter 02 - Chapter 04 >

Notes: Up next: like our queen Miss Taylor sang in Labyrinth: ‘oh no, i’m falling in loveeee’ and maybe… some smut and danger and a peek into Steve’s business side. I’d love to know what you think so far! thank you for reading :)

[world-of-aus]

Never Been The Type To

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Mobster!Reader

Warnings: Cliff Hanger????

Author's Note: An accompanied piece to Tell Me I've Been Lied Too! I'm not sure where I will be taking these pieces but if y'all are interested I'll try and see where I can take this. Hope you all enjoy this follow up! Happy Readings Buns.

The shipment was torn into, bullet casings strewn amongst the wooden framing that adorned the floor of his warehouse. The longer he looks at the damaged goods the harder his jaw clenches, teeth grinding, as he looks over what will set him back months to replace. “Security’s been taken care of,” Steve calls from behind him flanking his side as he joins his boss, eyes assessing the scene. 

“Cameras catch anything?” 

Steve’s silence is enough to have Bucky sending his foot into the already damaged crates, the wood splintering further under his foot as the fire burns within him, rage all consuming. “What the fuck am I paying for then!” the brunette all but growls as he rounds on his best friend getting in his space. “No one,” he points to the doors behind Steve, “No one should have been able to get to these crates without a bullet between their eyes, do you know how far back this sets us? Do you know how much money I've lost to this? Give me something Rogers, something other than Security's been taken care of!” 

Steves hard gaze is undeterred, “whoever did this knew what they were doing, they’re not some chump hired off the streets, it could have been a rat.” 

Bucky’s jaw clenches as he glares his concierge down, “you telling me that you let a rat fly under your radar unnoticed,” he growls poking Steve in the chest, “don’t think Wilson would let something like that happen if he had your rank.” Steves features mirror his, “not what I'm saying,” the blonde grits teeth bared, “but this person knew what they were doing Barnes, they took out the cameras, took out our men and our cargo in a matter of minutes, whoever this is has it out for you.” 

The brunette turns away from his friend, cold eyes going back to the problem at hand, “I took care of every last person who would even think of pulling some shit like this when I went after those who wronged my father.” Steve doesn’t have to say your name, for Bucky to know what he’s thinking, “she doesn’t have the drive to pull something like this,” Bucky lies turning away from his friend. “We can’t scratch her from the list,” Steve murmurs, “you lied to her, betrayed her trust, you murdered her father in front of her!” 

Bucky’s on Steve in an instant his hands curled around the lapels of his collar, “I did what I had to do,” he growls, “she wasn’t made for this life Steve, couldn’t even see the corrupt shit her old man was doing behind her back, I had to do it! Her father was ready to sell her soul for the next big thing!” 

“So you to lie to her, couldn’t be the bigger man and tell her what was going on? Had to be just like daddy?” Steve knows he deserves the fist to the face, but he also knows his boss needs to hear it, Steve had never agreed to what Bucky felt he needed to do you that night. Couldn’t stand at his best friends, stand at his bosses' side, the night he murdered your father. Steve knew your father deserved it with what he had planned for you, but he couldn’t agree with how Bucky went about it. “Feel better big man,” Steve spits, blood splattering the concrete, Bucky pushes him away, “Go home Rogers, you’re done here.” 

“You think letting yourself into her home is going to make matters any better for you,” Steve calls after Bucky. “I’m getting answers Rogers, answers you all have failed to give me, go home to Peggy, you’re done.” 

Your back was to the wooden oak doors of your office, cooled glass in hand as you look out the French windows of your home. It was dark out, your security having gone home for the night after inspection of your property, your father wouldn’t have agreed to the new change implemented, but they had families; loved ones who waited up for them, waited for their safe arrival home. 

You swirl the cube of ice in your cup, bringing it to your lips as you swallow down the last of the amber liquid. You pretend not to hear the soft creak of your office door, the cautious steps into your office. You wait, “you have a death wish?” You chuckle placing the empty glass down onto your desk before you’re turning to face the man you once thought was the one. 

You wondered if the ache in your chest would ever wane. 

“If it’s my time, it’s my time,” you answer voice void of any emotion, “to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

In the dim of the office you catch the tick of his jaw, he’s annoyed, good. “Your dad’s gone and you just let your guard down? Anyone could just walk in and” he points his fingers at you in the representation of a gun going off right between your eyes. The laugh you let out is cold, “you’re the reason he’s gone James. Is that why you’re here asking stupid questions? You come to end my life the way you ended my fathers? Shame, was expecting you sooner than this, you’re slacking.” 

The tick is more prominent, you’re getting under his skin, “I think you and I both know why I'm here.” You raise a brow, “no actually I don’t, care to let me in or are you going to leave me in the dark like you always did.” “Cut the shit y/l/n the cargo,” he grits, “you’re the only one who could have pulled an operation like that, you knew -” 

You cut him off with a loud laugh, “you’re here because someone fucked with your shit and you think it was me?” “My men are dead because of you,” he growls. Your lips are set in a thin line as you stare the brunette down, “No your men are dead because of you. Not everyone has a vendetta to get those who wrong them Barnes, and my condolences to your men’s family but whoever fucked with your shit it wasn’t me. The day my father died was the day I vowed to myself never to be seen with the likes of you again.”  

“If it wasn’t you then who was it? I made sure to take care of every last person who wronged my father, you’re the only one who could have -” 

“Get out,” you grit, “I said get the hell out of my home Barnes!” you yell when he doesn’t move. “I want nothing to do with you, I don’t want to know anything about you, I hate you, I hate what you’ve done to me, who you’ve made me. I have lost so much because of you, I won’t let you take anymore.” 

His lips part but you hold a finger up, head casted down as you will the knot in your throat away, “Get out. Please.” 

The tick returns, but he doesn’t go against your word as he turns on his heel. It takes a lot of you not to crumble, your features stoned as you heave in shaky breaths. You turn to the desk picking up your burner unlocking the device as you pull up your messages. Opening the only message that sits there you draft up a reply, a file going attached with your warning. 

‘This is all I know. Don’t let your guard down, he’s coming for all of you.’ 

With notification that your message had been received you're sending the device crashing into the floor, your heel cracking straight through the screen glass. 

[jtargaryen18]

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 33

Part 33: Under Pressure

Series Masterlist

Words: 5k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

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

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

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

You had just sat down at the dining room table for breakfast and it was quiet. Luca stepped around the corner from the kitchen, winking at you when he spotted you. Before he could bring out your breakfast, Dyson came wandering out of the kitchen, coffee cup in hand. Pulling out a chair at the other side of the table, he took a seat and joined you.

"How are preparations going?" you asked, delighted that you were allowed to ask now.

Dyson nodded. He wasn't a bit surprised by your question.

"Things are coming along," he told you. "I called up some extra men first thing this morning. Clint and Scott are making the rounds, making sure we won't have security issues. We'll have it locked down well before everyone starts arriving."

You nodded, smiled. "Sounds good."

Luca hustled out with your breakfast, serving you fluffy eggs and fruit. You thanked him, grinning as he pulled out a chair next to Dyson. 

"What time is everyone getting here?" he asked Dyson.

"Four," Dyson told him. "That's the meeting time the boss set anyway."

Luca nodded, his gaze roaming to you. "What are you up to today, boss?" he asked.

Boss had you grinning. Plus, like Dyson, you could tell he was a little worried about how today would go from your perspective. You really appreciated that they noticed and cared.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," you told him after a moment. "I'm going to get in a little exercise, spend some time with Nat."

The two men exchanged a look and you had to laugh. "What are the two of you so worried about?" you asked. "Steve called a meeting today with the heads of the families to make sure everyone is on the same page. It's a good place to start. It'll put all the rumors to rest and Steve can start leading the families outright."

Luca's expression was bordering on comical. "I mean no disrespect but... You know you're not going to the meeting, right?"

That did have you laughing. "Yes, I'm aware."

"What's so funny?" Yelena's voice came from behind you as she walked into the dining room.

"These two making sure I'm okay with the meeting today," you explained. 

Nodding, Yelena made her way to the kitchen. You turned your attention back to the two older men across the table from you.

"Thank you for caring about me," you said, "but I'm fine with not being in that meeting. I promise."

"You are?" Dyson asked, skeptical.

"I am," you assured him. "Steve is letting me be part of the family business now. I don't need to be at the meeting."

Was that pride flashing in Dyson's eyes? He nodded as Yelena returned with her breakfast, taking a seat next to you.

"Any word on Barnes?" she asked.

Dyson blew out an exhale. "Someone is coming from the Barnes family," he said slowly. "I got an RSVP."

Luca scrubbed a hand over his face. "Could be sending Killmonger," he said.

"Barnes will be here himself," you said. It was just an instinct but you knew you were right. 

Setting his coffee mug on the table, Dyson's gaze met yours. "I think so too. He almost has to. Same reason as Steve. He has to show everyone he's still here."

"Male posturing," Yelena added and you chuckled. 

"Let's hope not," Dyson said. "Things are more than a little tense right now."

That had you thinking... "Do the other families know what Barnes pulled? I mean, do they know he tried to take Steve and his family down?"

"The Starks do," Luca said. "The Wilsons and Odinsons? I'm sure they're aware. They just tend to stay out of the drama unless it involves them."

"That's smart," Yelena added.

"Or they lack the muscle," you said.

Dyson nodded, indicating you were right. 

"If Barnes decides to try anything, we're ready right?" you had to ask.

"We are," Dyson told you. "But along that line of thinking, we need to think about where you're going to be during this meeting."

"Yes, we do," Yelena said. 

You understood. "I'm sure Nat, Yelena and I can find something to do. Where would we be safest?"

"Steve's study," Dyson said instantly. "We have a quick way to get you out if all hell breaks loose."

You made a mental note of that. "Just let me know when we need to be where."

"Do you think she'll be okay?" Nat asked for the third time in an hour.

You sighed. You didn't know the young woman who Hansen held prisoner. It was disconcerting that she looked like you. Even though you had nothing to do with it, you still felt a heavy sense of responsibility. You'd arranged for her to fly back home to her family, sent Barnes' money with her. The best thing you could do for her was to get her out of Boston and back to where she had a support network. You made sure she had a way to reach you in case she ever needed anything.

"Barnes wasn't kidding when he said he was giving her a generous gift," you said. "It's a lot of money. I know that in no way makes up for what she went through but... She was in college. I'm just hoping she can take that and make a fresh start somewhere else. Finish her education. I hope in time she's able to heal."

Yelena was quiet in her seat next to Nat, across Steve's desk from you. You understood why. Yelena had been the sick bastard's captive too. Since you'd known Yelena, Hansen was the only thing that scared her. You knew why your friend and personal protection dressed in the suits she wore. Yes, she was trying to be like any other soldier, to earn respect. But it made your heart sink to think about the physical scars she was hiding. Scars that Hansen branded her with.

If the bastard was alive, and you thought he was, he'd better pray he never crossed your path again. 

"What did doc have to say today?" Yelena asked Nat, changing the subject. "Everything is healing well?"

Nat smiled. "Everything is healing. But then, I didn't get shot so..."

You laughed at that. "That's just about the only thing the bastard didn't do to you."

"I'm glad he's gone," Nat said after a moment.

You exchanged a look with Yelena, both of you happy to hear that. You knew Clint was happy about her reaction to her abusive husband's death. While you understood why he took Banner out with Yelena's help, you knew he was worried about the impact of his actions on the woman he loved.

"I am too," you told her. "Now you can just be with Clint the way you always should have been."

Nat's deep sigh was the only sound in the quiet office. "I'm not the only one worried about today, am I?"

It was actually a relief that she addressed the elephant in the room.

"No," you admitted. "I don't like this any better than you do. But it has to be done."

"Why wouldn't Steve let you attend the meeting?" she asked.

"He never said I couldn't." That was the truth. "It was my decision to sit this out."

You couldn't tell which woman was more surprised. Yelena knew you were good with not going but she didn't know that. That had you smiling.

"It's not the right time," you told them. "It may never be the right time for anyone outside our family to know that I'm part of Steve's council. And if that's how it goes, I'm fine with that. I got what I wanted."

"It's more than what you wanted," Yelena pointed out. "It's where you need to be."

You appreciated her faith in you. Nat's smiled told you she agreed. You weren't worried about weighing in on situations as they arose to keep the family, all of you, safe. You knew you could help.

"I am a little nervous today," you told them, "because Barnes is coming."

"He RSVP'd?" Yelena asked.

You shook your head. "Not necessarily. Dyson said they indicated someone was coming but they didn't name Barnes. But he'll be here. He almost has to. He has to show everyone he's fit. Just like Steve does."

"After everything he did to this family," Nat said, "he gets to just waltz into our home for this meeting?"

You nodded. "He does. For now. And Steve has to be careful here. The other families have heard things. This is Steve's chance to set the record straight. To make sure everyone knows exactly what happened."

"And then what?" Nat's face was darkening in her rising anger. "We just go on like nothing happened?"

"No, then we gauge where the other families' allegiences lie," you explained. "Until we know that, we don't know how best to move forward."

"Tony Stark and Sam Wilson have been friends with my brother since high school," Nat said. "They better not even think about siding with Barnes on this. Not after everything he did."

Yelena nodded her agreenment.

"Steve doesn't think we have anything to worry about with the Starks or the Wilsons," you said. "The others? We'll see."

"What if the other families decide they don't have a problem with Barnes' bullshit?" Nat was really pissed about this.

"The only ones left are the Odinsons," Yelena pointed out.

You knew there was practically no chance of that happening but... 

"If that should happen, and I doubt it will, we'll deal with it," you told her. "Barnes will be dealt with. It's the how he's dealt with that we have to be careful with."

"Didn't we lose men over this shit?" Nat asked.

"So did Barnes," Yelena said. "Plus he lost Hansen and that's a big blow for him."

Nat wasn't done. You could tell the way she was staring you down. She was just trying to decide how to frame what she wanted to say.

"Aren't you afraid?" she asked you. "Of Barnes? You could have killed him at that little meeting in the park."

Yes, you were scared of Barnes. Very much so. But the only person you'd admitted that to was Yelena. Steve had overheard you but in your defense, you'd thought he was in a coma and couldn't hear you. You steeled yourself to answer her because you weren't going to let anyone else know just how worried about Barnes you were.

"Steve will keep me safe," you told her meaningfully. "He'll keep all of us safe. The day in the park? We intended to kill Barnes that day. If I hadn't panicked at the last moment..."

From the window behind Steve's desk, you could see the cars arriving. The screen of your phone showed it was 3:35 PM. The meeting would start soon.

"You did so well," Yelena picked it up from there. "You should have seen her, Nat. He had no idea who was she until she wanted him to know. I'm not sure I could have done that."

"Bullshit," you said, smiling. "You would have done a better job. And you had to deal with him because I froze."

"It's my job to protect you," Yelena reminded you. "Not the other way around."

A light tap at the door got your attention. Clint was stationed outside the office, neither him or Nat would allow otherwise. His gaze met yours and he crooked a finger at you.

Walking around the desk, you went to the door, walking out when Clint motioned you. Clint walked into the office and closed the door, leaving you in the quiet of the hallway with your husband. 

Smiling, you let him pull you into his arms. Steve was healing but he wasn't back to full strength yet. Still, he felt more solid and alive in your arms now. The blood red tie stood out against the polished silver suit he wore. The sent of his cologne, of him, invaded your senses, made you wish you could stay here a while. 

Easing back, your stretched up to kiss his mouth and Steve took you off guard. His kiss was searing, demanding. He took your breath away, his kiss seeking and lusty. You tasted the need of so many nights when you couldn't make love, when you didn't know if you'd lose him. Your own need was just as strong and you rotated your hips against him, feeling the heated hard ridge you were hoping for.

"Stop," he whispered against your lips. "You keep doing that and I'll fuck you right here in this hallway."

You grinned up at him. "How much time do we have?"

Steve smiled. "Don't tempt me."

"It's almost time," you told him. "You've got this."

"Yes, I do." Steve's entire demeanor backed up his words. "And once this meeting is over, we'll have a better idea of where we go from here."

"You'll tell me everything, right?"

"I promised, didn't I?" Steve brushed a kiss on your forehead, his gaze locking with yours. "Stay in the office with Belova and Nat. If Clint wants you to move, you do it with no question. You understand?"

"I do," you told him, trying to fight back your fear. Your entire world felt like it was balancing on a knife's edge and you just wanted it to be over. To move on.

Steve shook his head, chuckling. "I'm not used to you being so acquiescent. I could get used to this."

"Don't," you told him. "Because I'm not always going to be so easy to get along with."

"At least you're honest," Steve said. He stole one more kiss that had your heart hammering against his. Every part of you was in knots right now. From tension, fear, and lust. When he broke the kiss, his breath and yours came fast. "Let me get through this meeting... I need you so much right now."

Just as much as you needed him.

"Just make sure you're up to it," you said. "I want you too but I'm willing to wait if that's what's best for you."

"You are what's best for me," he said with feeling.

It was then you spotted a tiny spot of your lipstick, smudged on the collar of his pristine white shirt. "Shit," you muttered, reaching to see if you could get it off. 

Steve caught your hand. "Leave it," he said. "I want Barnes to see it."

You just wished more than anything that Barnes wasn't coming to your home. A sense of foreboding had you shivering.

"Go back in the office," Steve told you. "I love you."

"I love you too," you whispered.

Steve tapped on the office door and Clint came out the door in an instant, ushering you back into Steve's study to Nat and Yelena. Somehow, with their company, you made it through the next two hour while the meeting took place.

"They're all here, boss," Dyson said from behind him. 

Downing the rest of his Scotch, Steve set the empty glass on Luca's small kitchen table and blew out an exhale. It was time.

"Barnes is here?" he asked.

"Sure is," Dyson said. "Brought Killmonger and Zemo with him."

Turning to face his man, Steve prepared himself.

"You're going to handle this, you know?" Dyson said. 

"As long as I know she's safe, yeah, I am going to handle it."

"Nothing is going to happen to her," Dyson said meaningfully. "I promise you that."

Well, then...

Steve headed for the conference room, not stopping until he reached it. When he opened the door to let himself in, he saw his own men posted around the room, led by Scott who stood just behind the chair at the head of the table. His.

Steve's gaze met that of Tony Stark, then Sam. Thor Odinson watched him with cool blue eyes, his raven-haired brother Loki sitting by his side. They were the only unknowns in the room. Steve knew he had Tony and Sam's loyalty.

Then there was the man of the hour, Bucky Barnes himself, situated between the Odinsons and the Wilsons. Killmonger and Zemo stood behind his chair.  Barnes had no trouble meeting Steve's gaze but he was thinner than the last time he saw him, his pallor uncharacteristically pale. Belova and his wife had done a number on him. 

And Barnes would seek revenge. Steve would need to be a lot more vigilant in protecing his wife, his family. Everyone considered Hansen was out of the picture, but it would be unwise to forget about him. And Killmonger had always been the one he respected most. He was quiet, calculating, and deadly efficient.

"Gentlemen, thank you for coming," Steve said to the room. Taking his time, he took his seat. 

It didn't feel the same sitting there now. He'd only held one other such meeting as head of the families. That day he'd been excited, eager to take over, to rule. He'd been naive.

Things were different now. Yes, he'd sat on the throne, won the wife and her heritage. And he'd almost lost all of it because of arrogance. As he took in the heads of the other four familes, one by one, he knew he'd never take this position for granted again. Now he could feel the weight of all the responsibilities that came with it. Steve wanted to make his father proud. Her father proud. 

Mostly, he wanted to keep pride in his wife's eyes. The way she'd looked at him in the hallway. She believed in him. She loved him. And there was nothing he wouldn't do for her.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dyson standing behind him. Yeah, he didn't want to let him down either. Dyson was his right hand, yes. But he was a father to him. He was a father to her. 

He had no intention of failing Dyson either.

"What's on the agenda today?" Tony asked with his characteristic smirk.

"I'm just going to be direct," Steve began. "There has been some dissension in our ranks."

"Dissension?" Thor asked.

Steve nodded. "Since I took the leadership of our five families, my family has been attacked numerous times." He caught Barnes' gaze and held it as he continued. "Barton was shot, Lloyd Hansen brought goons to my house in an attempt to kidnap my wife, my wife and my sister have suffered considerable injuries, and all the while my leadership has been called into question."

On that last, Barnes grinned. But before he could speak, Steve absolutely could not let anyone steal the floor from him at this meeting, Steve cut him off.

"All of it stops today," Steve said slowly, dragging out each word.

Loki grinned from his seat, his gaze sweeping around the room. "This is going to be fun."

His brother Thor looked skeptical. "Word on the street is that Banner is the one who shot Barton. Barton was having the man's wife, right under his nose. He dealt with his wife. None of these personal items have any place in this meeting."

"Dealt with his wife? My sister?" Steve kept his demeanor nonchalant but on this inside he was fuming. "That's what I thought too until I learned Banner had been talking with Barnes about business without my knowledge. My own consigliere. See, Barnes' consigliere is about to retire. Banner was under the impression that if he helped Barnes bring my family down, he'd be serving the Barnes family as their new consigliere. That changes things."

Thor's gaze cut to Barnes who now wore his poker face. Still, he looked unrepentent.

"No one has seen Banner," Thor pointed out. "Has that been dealt with? If what you say is true, that's quite a betrayal."

There it was. A subtle challenge to his leadership, but a challenge nonetheless.

"Banner has been dealt with," Steve said. "Barton found him hiding in Stark's turf... Why was he hiding there? Why wasn't he under your protection, Barnes?"

The pure anger in Barnes' steely blue eyes told Steve he was hitting his mark. When he remained silent, Steve continued.

"I allowed Barton to deal with Banner how he wanted. And anyone else who ever tries to deal with my sister? That man will  meet the same fate. Is that in any way unclear?"

A low murmur across the table. Tony wasn't doing even trying to hide his enjoyment of the meeting so far.

"You had proof of Barnes' traitorous actions before you made these decisions?" Thor asked, not letting it go. "I'm sure you realize these are serious allegations."

"Do I owe you or anyone a fucking explanation?" Steve shot back, pissed.

"Yeah, you do," Barnes chimed in. "Because the evidence suggests you're not managing your own turf all that well, boss." He put an ugly emphasis on the word "Boss." "You've taken hits to businesses you're supposed to be protecting. People who depend on you are losing business, people are getting hurt."

Smiling at the reminder, Steve sighed. "People getting hurt. Like the murder and rape your men committed in that shop on my turf? Like the girl you allowed Hansen to kidnap from a donut shop in my territory? She got hurt. He kept her for days."

"I didn't give him that order," Barnes said cooly.

"Doesn't matter," Stave said. "He still acted under your authority."

Barnes was now staring him down and Steve silently willed him to say something else. Say it. Tell them you were poisoned by my wife's guard. See how much respect you get for that sloppy shit.

"Anything else?" Steve dared him.

Cold silence.

"I get that you're still raw I took the lead," Steve told him, rising from his chair. "That's why you promised Banner a position at your side that I don't think you ever meant to give him. It's also why you turned Loguidice against me, got him to give you inside intel. You got him killed by Hansen."

"That was on Hansen." Barnes couldn't produce much color in his anger, likely from the poison, but his face darkened enough for Steve to see that he was really getting to him. "He knifed me, betrayed orders."

Like my wife's guard knifed you? A woman?

"You all know why, right?" Steve walked around the table even though Dyson had advised him against it. But he liked to pace when he talked. "Hansen and Neal took Dyson which I think was your plan. Right? They were supposed to draw me out, finish me off."

Thor listened intently to the exchange, not as amused as his brother seemed. No, he was dead serious and Steve had him on the hook.

"Hansen decided to lure my wife out instead," Steve told them. "Shot Loguidice in the face. What did you promise Neal for turning on me anyway?"

Barnes' smile didn't reach his eyes. "I didn't have to promise either of them much at all."

"The point is," Steve went on, "that you couldn't even control Hansen. Your own man. And you think you'd make a better leader of these families than me?"

Barnes was out of his chair, ready to lunge at Steve. Killmonger struggled to hold onto him. 

Steve chuckled, watching the scene he'd created. Around the table, Tony and Sam watched passively, the Odinsons were attentive. Dyson looked proud and that was everything to him in that moment.

"Are you really the one leading your family, Rogers?" Barnes yelled. "Because all the nasty little presents you sent me just didn't seem like your style."

"What are you implying?" Thor asked him.

"Word has it Rogers got shot that day," Barnes said to the room. "After that, I got some none-to-subtle reminders of the bad blood between us. But they weren't his style at all. I think he got shot and he's struggling. I think Mrs. Rogers had a hand in this."

Tony's gaze moved from Barnes to Steve, almost comical interest so plain on his face.

"You're so fascinated with my wife, aren't you?" Steve said. "Why don't you tell them all of it?"

Tell them that you were bested by a woman and let's be done with it.

"Wait," Loki said with an artificial calm that didn't match the sheer glee in his eyes at the scene he was witnessing."Not to be indelicate, but isn't Mrs. Rogers your half-sister, Barnes?"

If looks could kill, Loki would have been dead on the floor. Steve had a hard time not laughing at that.

"She's not my anything," Barnes hissed, still struggling in Killmonger's hold. "She's an evil fucking bitch that you'll regret marrying one day, Rogers! I'd watch my back if I were you! Remember what her mother did to my family?"

"I thought she was a ballerina," Tony chimed in. "Huh."

Loki laughed out loud as Barnes managed to shake off his man's hold and charged at Steve. Scott and another of Steve's men caught him first. That didn't stop Steve from approaching, getting up in his enemy's face.

"You got shot, didn't you?" Barnes demanded.

"If I got shot," Steve said, "why are you the one who looks physically weak right now? Something you want to tell us?"

Steve could have shamed him there. He could have told the entire room what really happened to Barnes. But considering what Barnes had just shouted to the room about his wife, it was best to draw no more attention to her.

"I'm the head of these families, Barnes," Steve said in a calmer tone. "I won't tolerate any other challenges to this position."

The warning was clear, the room quiet now. Shoving Scott to the side, Killmonger took Barnes' arm to take control of the situation. Barnes' had broken out in a sweat, his face unnaturally pale and he was struggling to breathe.

"We understand," Killmonger said to Steve, struggling to keep his boss up because he looked ready to pass out. 

Steve tipped his head towards the conference room door, giving his consent for Killmonger to get him out of there. Zemo, looking more than a little alarmed, followed them out.

The tone of the meeting was much calmer with their departure, tension thick in the air. Even Thor had nothing else to say as Steve went over his plans for the families moving forward. When the meeting dismissed, Steve lingered until it was only him and Dyson, Scott and another soldier outside the door.

"You made the statement," Dyson told him. "That means if Barnes so much as breathes wrong, you know what you have to do."

Steve nodded. He would have to take Barnes and his family out, ensuring nothing was left.

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it," Steve told him.

Dyson nodded. "Still, it was a good meeting. It set the right tone."

Steve nodded but inside, he was elated. Dyson approved of the way the meeting was handled, how he dealt with Barnes. It was a new start, it was everything.

He couldn't wait to tell you about it.

When Yelena didn't answer your question, you glanced her way. 

She was looking out the window. "The meeting couldn't be over yet," she said.

Was someone leaving?

Getting up, you walked to the window. Your first instinct was stand back and not make it obvious you were watching.

But wasn't this your house? You could stand in the window if you wanted to.

So you did. And sure enough, one sleek black luxury sedan was moving in the circular drive. It startled you when it stopped in line-of-sight from your window. The rear passenger window powered down and Buck Barnes was staring out that window in your direction. At you.

After a moment, the car started moving and the window went back up. You shivered at what the simple gesture meant for your future. The meeting only started fifteen minutes ago. That wasn't a good sign. At least no one else seemed to be leaving.

I'll get you!

 Bucky Barnes' threat ran through your mind as you watched his car drive away.

A/N: There's a marathon smut scene coming next and it was either shorten it and tack it onto this chapter or make it a chapter on its own so... Very soon. Thank you!

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[biteofcherry]

To find the light, we must first touch the darkness

Please also check out @bluepinkangel​’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤

dark!mafia Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.

warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; power imbalance; forced relationship; violence; death (minor character); D/s undertones; gun play; gun play kink; explicit sexual situation; faint choking kink; mention of breeding kink;

I did warn you this Steve is dark 😜

word count: 8k

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 4. Heated hail

~ * ~ 

Hues of orange and purple brushed over the horizon in softest strokes as the sun settled down, but your heart couldn’t settle in your chest, every few hours jumping into a rapid patter to the tune of anxiety. 

Staying in the safety of your apartment for two days after the horrid events didn’t help much, it still felt impossible to ease into your new life with its stains of alluring darkness. 

You called in sick the morning after your engagement. Then stayed home for another day, as well. Hiding worked no miracles, your brain was very much conscious of the events that happened and of the things awaiting you, but at least you didn’t have to face it all for those few more hours of denial.

Though no one appeared on your doorstep and you didn’t sense any eyes on you as you occasionally walked out onto your tiny balcony, you were convinced that Steve knew very well where you were. 

At all times.

It was a blessing he didn’t march into your home with a wedding gown, forcing you to say the vows immediately. You half expected it, since your continued talk after the kiss included Steve’s announcement that you’re to be married in a month. 

He wasn’t interested in waiting.

It seemed that even when Steve Rogers appeared patient, it was only when he knew the results he demanded would come precisely in the time window he approved of. 

Giving you a month was undoubtedly an act of grace in his eyes, since he could’ve as well dragged you in front of some registrar the very next day. 

Or maybe it was a wicked torment on his part, making you organize a wedding you didn’t really want. Not ripping off the band aid quickly, but making conscious decisions (as indifferent as they may be) about details regarding the ceremony of binding yourself to Steve for life.

True torture was playing the part of shocked and grief-stricken when Natalie called you a few hours earlier to inform you of Felix’s tragic car accident.

You nearly laughed hysterically at that.

Car accident. Sure.

Against a truck branded Rogers. 

You had no idea if they staged it so that it looked like an accident after they'd beaten him to death (or done worse things to him), or if Rogers had enough officers under his thumb that they classified it as such, without letting anyone know the truth. 

But you knew the truth. Most of it, anyway, without gory details.   

Maybe you shouldn’t feel sad, considering Felix gave you to another mobster on a silver platter. Who knows how that meeting would go, if Steve hadn’t intervened. However, you were still human and, even if occasionally you felt a taste for drawing blood when someone pissed you off, you didn’t wish anyone death. 

You would have to play the shocked and sorrowful employer in front of the health center employees, which was also why you dreaded going back to work. 

It would be easier, perhaps, if your mind reacted in the way it was supposed to. 

Though you knew people reacted to trauma in various ways, there were certain symptoms you expected from yourself. They never came.

When you dragged yourself to bed, you fell asleep easily. Steve Rogers haunted your dreams, but they weren’t exactly nightmares you’d expect. 

Those dreams were ridiculous, really. Dark, yes. In a gothic horror setting almost. No terror wrecked your body, however. You didn’t scream in fear, nor wake up drenched in sweat as you dreamt of running away from the altar only to fall straight into Rogers’ arms. 

You were processing it all too logically, as if you were only wedding stressed and annoyed with Rogers, not in fear for your life and that of your loved ones. 

If you were your own patient, you’d ask yourself if there were aspects of the arrangement with Steve that you found benefiting? Something that perhaps drew you to him?

You still had no answer to that question as you finally walked into the health center on the next day. 

Steady, slow steps; a pace perhaps a heartbeat slower than your usual. The sound of your heels clicking on the floor echoing through the quiet halls. 

Natalie waited for you in your office, as she always did without fail. In a way, she was playing a role just like you; wearing a mask to function without a hitch. Organizer in hand, she recited to you the changes she made due to your short sick leave and those that needed to be made for the day of Felix’s funeral. 

A thought crossed your mind briefly, of what Steve would say about you going to Felix’s funeral. Since he apparently belonged to a branch of the mafia, attendance of Hydra mobsters and other of their operatives was highly possible, and you didn’t think Rogers would want you anywhere near them. 

You viewed yourself as merely a civilian boss of the man that passed, but you possessed enough intelligence to recognize you were now also a part of a rivaling mob - no matter how reluctant your participation was. 

Not only by shared business, but ranking now much higher in your status as the fiancée to the ruthless mob boss. 

You didn’t mention to Natalie that you weren’t sure if you’d be going to the funeral at all, only nodding at her skilfully reorganized schedule. 

“There’s one more thing,” she said, closing her calendar.

She walked to the door, opened them and beckoned someone over. A young man, a boy really, entered your office with a shy smile on his face. 

Unruly hair, which he combed neatly, but they still betrayed harmlessly chaotic functioning of youth. A pressed collar of a button down shirt peeked above his blue cardigan. He reminded you of first year students, or apprentices at their first posting. 

The first person in the past few days who seemed innocent and you welcomed that change with a softened heart. 

“This is Peter Parker.” Natalie announced.

“Hi! Nice to meet you,” the boy cut the space between the two of you and extended his hand for you to shake. 

“Peter has just applied for our vacant position.” Natalie’s voice remained neutral and professional, but the way she accented vacant position left no doubt that it meant Felix’s job. 

Which shouldn’t be announced this soon. No one would post an ad without your authorization. So unless one of the center’s workers tried to push his own son or nephew into free position, that Parker kid was sent in by someone who knew of the brutally gained opening. 

“Son of a bitch.” You cursed under your breath. 

Natalie arched a single brow, but said nothing as you picked up your phone and unlocked it with a murderous glare. Parker said nothing either, only looked your way slightly bewildered. 

Shame that Rogers didn’t warn him about your newly discovered tendencies to outbursts. 

That it was Steve Rogers’ move, you had no doubt. 

You found his name in your contacts - Steve typed it in himself, teasing you that a fiancée should have her future husband’s number in her phone.

He picked up quickly, actually surprising you that he answered at all. You thought his phone number to be more of a reminder for you that you gave yourself away to him, rather than being able to actually call him. So when you heard his voice on the other end of the line, you choked on your words for a second. 

“Princess?”

You wondered if he saved your number under that pet name.

“The center was supposed to remain under my control,” you hissed into the phone when you regained your voice. “Hiring people should be my decision.”

“Peter’s very approachable and he learns fast,” came Steve’s reply; his voice soft, but there was that lining of finality to his decision.

You paused, once again surprised. This time by the fact Steve wasn’t playing lying games, just cutting straight to the core of the problem. Which also meant he anticipated your reaction, but did it anyway, disregarding your opinion on the matter. 

You’d laugh at the irony of it - that a man being truthful and direct in an important conversation (traits you valued), at the same time was the fucking bane of your existence. 

“Is he even of age?” You snorted, glancing Parker’s way. “He looks sixteen.” 

“I’m twenty two.” Peter chimed in and you frowned.

He really didn’t look to be over twenty. Then again, in the past you’ve been asked for an ID even though you were way over twenty five. You had no idea how young people were when they started working for the mob. 

Perhaps Rogers had no conscience and hired kids for dirty jobs too. 

“He’s legal,” Steve sounded amused. “No forged papers on him. Lives alone with his aunt, so a solid job, like the one at the center, is something he needs.”

You did not believe in Rogers’ sympathy, not for a second. Perhaps he took care of his employees in a peculiar way, but you wouldn’t mistake it for him actually caring if Peter’s dreams come true, or if his economical status is secured. 

Moreover, you suspected he used Peter’s wobbling financial stability as a means to lure him into the mafia in the first place.

“Then he could’ve applied without your commendation. Since it’s his own motivation to work here, right?” You allowed yourself a defiant tilt of your chin and a challenging gaze, since Steve couldn’t see it anyway. 

You weren’t stupid to believe Steve pushed the kid into this position only because Peter needed it. More likely, Steve wanted someone from his own batch to infiltrate the center. Maybe even to keep an eye on you, though you seriously didn’t imagine how a barely-out-of-teens boy was supposed to do that. 

“Recommendation is an additional bonus to an otherwise great employee you’ll be hiring.” 

You didn’t know Steve well enough yet to assess by his tone alone if he was growing annoyed with this conversation, or rather bored (since he knew you would be agreeing to his demands anyway, unless you wanted more harm happening). 

“That depends on the recommendation,” you muttered, too late realizing you said it out loud.

“You don’t trust my word, Princess?” A deeper timbre resounded in Steve’s voice, sending a shiver across your skin. 

He wasn’t there, but you could easily imagine the glint in his blue eyes as he peered at you from beneath his long eyelashes. An edge of a blade caressing your breakable skin.

“I’m miffed at you planting your fucking seeds in my center, when it was supposed to stay under my care!” 

There was a pause after you snapped.

One in which you cursed yourself inwardly for once again antagonizing someone who held your life in his hands, quite literally. Your heart thumped loudly, you felt the echo of it through your bones. 

However, when Steve’s voice returned with a reply, it wasn’t a promise of your death. 

Though it may as well have been, considering his words.  

“I can plant different seeds, if you wish. Inside you, Princess.”

Your intake of breath was sharp, your pupils widened and your mouth hung open. He did not just say that!, your mind screeched, while your body roused in alertness. 

You hung up the phone without uttering a single more word to Steve, then tossed it to the far edge of the desk as if it burned you. Your gaze lingered on it for a moment longer, in fear of it ringing to life. 

You couldn’t comment on Steve’s innuendo. Acknowledging it meant recognizing this particular aspect of marriage, which you somehow repressed from your mind. 

No, your marriage to Rogers was supposed to be only on paper, only for his gain of the lands and immunity. 

A facade, with a shiny ring and your new last name stained with the blood of Steve’s opponents. Not a true merging of two people, neither in minds nor in hearts, definitely not in bodies. 

A quiver pattered down your spine like a strummed string at the sudden, vivid image of Rogers’ thick body pressing into your naked space.

Fear, it had to be. But it also carried a rush of adrenaline that tingled in your nipples and brought heat to the sensitive shell of your ear.

“I need a break,” you shook yourself out of it and abruptly moved. “I’m going for coffee.”

“I can make you some,” Natalie offered, observing you with perfectly masked curiosity. 

It was a change in your behavior, this sudden restlessness and outbursts of unresolved tension. As stressful as taking over a big health center was, you managed to remain calm and professional since the first day. Natalie witnessed you roll your eyes a few times and assertively set yourself, but this was a novelty. 

She could only assume it was because of the tragic loss of an employee so early in your work, maybe suspect Rogers was threatening you. You doubted she’d ever imagine the extent of sweet terror he planned for you.

“No, I have to get out for a few minutes.” You weren’t even sure you really wanted coffee, a shot of vodka would be a better option. 

But you needed to step outside for a few minutes; to not see Peter’s boyish face with its innocence written all over it, while you knew the darkness he was signing his soul to. You hoped his only job was to tattle on you. 

You grabbed your handbag, purposely ignored your phone still hanging on the edge of the desk, and strode toward the exit. 

“What about Peter?” Natalie asked before you reached the door, both of them staring at you expectantly. 

“Hire him.” You sighed, anger whipping in your tone. 

“And you!” You glared Peter’s way. “Make sure your other boss knows that within these walls your duties are only to the center.” 

It was a bold statement. One you probably had no leverage to actually make real. In terms of power, Rogers had more of it, since he had it also over you. If he gave Peter a different task to run along his duties at the health center, that order would come first. 

Still, you wanted to make your opinion clear and install some respect for the work here. 

As you walked to the nearby coffee shop, you glanced around a few times to check if anyone was following you. You had no proof of Rogers sending someone to trail you, yet you were convinced of it. 

If he had, they were skilled at blending in, since no one seemed suspicious to you.

The usual buzzing noise of the coffee shop - conversations combined with quiet music and clinking of glass - felt like a soothing lullaby to your strained nerves. You took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sweet pastries. 

By the time you got your order, you had mostly calmed down. You were still pissed off, but there was no point in exhausting yourself fighting a losing battle. 

It was time to accept the uncomfortable truth of Steve’s upper hand. At all times. 

As you stirred your coffee with a paper spatula, someone stepped next to you. In your peripheral vision you caught their hand reaching for three packets of sugar. 

“I’d suspect having Rogers on your tail requires a stronger brew than coffee.” A smooth, melodic male voice started casually.

His words froze you in place for a second, trepidation stopping your heart and then rushing it into a rapid beat. 

You said nothing, tossing your spatula into the bin and quickly reaching for the cup lid to put on your paper cup and leave the place. The man’s hand slipped between you and the lid, pushing it to the side as he reached for the cinnamon sprinkle; his gesture seemingly so innocent.  

As he withdrew his hand, glass jar of cinnamon in his hand, your gaze dropped onto a leather casing left on the counter right next to your coffee. 

A police badge. In the name Quentin Duvall.

Was it a test? Since all signs on earth and in heaven pointed that Rogers had police and other agencies in his pocket, this could be a game to see if you’d stay loyal to your future husband. 

Logically, he shouldn’t expect you to. It was only your lack of connection that you didn’t dare to seek help in the law enforcement, for if you had some friend of a friend who was an officer then you’d go to them in a heartbeat. 

You were quite certain Steve knew you would and he probably didn’t care.

“He’s a pain not only in your ass,” the man said, exchanging the cinnamon for his badge. “It’s hard to build a case against him when more than half of my colleagues are on his payroll.”

“What do you want?” Your fingers squeezed the paper cup, coffee sloshing to the brim. 

You didn’t lift your head to look at him, figuring it was best to keep the impression of a casual conversation over coffee station. If you were being watched, perhaps it wouldn’t be too suspicious. 

“There’s an ATF agent working to build a case against Rogers’ mob. He’d like to meet you and propose a way to provide you protection for whatever you can bring to the table.”

“Why won’t he contact me directly?” Deliberately, you picked a jar of chocolate sprinkles and added them to your cooling coffee.

“Since he’s one of the very rare daring to hunt Rogers, he’s on the fucker’s radar. If he appeared anywhere near, Rogers would know of it and it could end badly for you.” There was a hint of concern in Duvall’s voice, but not enough to be a poor actor’s play.

Then again, maybe it was a perfect play. Luring you with a safeline, but making it risky so you wouldn’t see it as a trap right away. 

“If you want to help-” he picked a spatula and stirred his own coffee- “if you want to get out of Rogers’ grip, come here the day after tomorrow at the same time. I’ll give you the meeting details then.” 

He took his cup and left, merging with the group of friends that were exiting at the same time. You waited a few moments, carefully putting the lid on your cup and lifting it to your mouth for a long, thoughtful sip.

Your walk back to the center was sluggish, your gaze switching from staring blankly ahead to staring at the pavement beneath your feet. 

If it was a test and you failed it, what sort of consequences would Steve draw out? If, by some miracle, a just officer could save you from the dragon guarded tower, shouldn’t you risk it? 

As you sat in your office, too preoccupied with the new dilemma, your irritation grew. That someone appeared and rocked the boat on an already stormy sea. 

Though a flicker of hope tempted you to take the risk and meet the agent, you were annoyed that it came as another drastic change in your life in such a short time. Honestly, a part of you simply wanted to just go steady with one route, even if it was the one with you on Rogers’ leash.

At least it would be settled. If you kept fighting, not only would it piss off Rogers, but it meant exhaustion for you. Perhaps a never ending one. 

Because was there really a chance for protection from Steve, if his ties reached to the Capitol and beyond?

Natalie found you deep in thought and blankly staring at the window of your office. She did a quick scan of the untouched documents which you should be working on, then flicked her gaze to you. 

Whatever she saw in your face, it made her close the door to your office and lock it. 

She moved a free chair to sit next to you on your side of the desk and in a hushed tone asked what was going on.

You looked at her for a long, silent moment. It would be reckless to tangle another innocent soul into the sticky, dark web in which you were trapped. You didn’t want to put her in danger. But you needed someone to know, someone who was a part of it from the beginning even if it was as a bystander.

Natalie and Felix were the ones who told you the truth of who Steve is in the first place, so at least you didn’t have to reveal to her something she wouldn’t already know about the man. 

With a sigh, you opened your mouth and told her everything. 

As you studied Natalie’s face afterwards, you realized she might have been the best choice to share the burden. There was no fear on her face, no panic settling in. She frowned, processing it all and you almost could sense the cogs in her head turning as she conjured up a plan. 

“That officer, what was his name again?” She asked, sliding her phone out of her pocket and typing rapidly.

“Duvall. Quentin Duvall.” You told her. “Why?”

“I fucked a guy who has ways to check people’s background,” Natalie replied without an ounce of shame or awkwardness. “A computer geek. I’ll ask him to check if officer Duvall is who he claims to be.”

“Oh!” That way at least you’d know if it wasn’t a scheme. “That’s helpful. Thank you.”

Natalie didn’t acknowledge your gratitude, as if it wasn’t even needed. Determined and focused on the task, she exchanged text messages with whomever was so into her he still agreed to do for her something that was probably illegal.

Since you were engaged to a mob boss, you weren’t going to judge. 

Few hours later, just as you were finishing for the day, Natalie returned to your office with ready information. 

“It’s your choice,” she said, taking her jacket off. 

Thin bracelets on her wrist jingled faintly, a peek of a small spider tattoo on her forearm quickly disappeared beneath the folded jacket which she draped over her arm.

“But I think you should meet him. A meeting doesn’t yet mean you’re agreeing to anything.” She walked next to you as both went toward the exit. “If they don’t offer you actual solid protection, you simply give them nothing.”

“What if Rogers finds out about the meeting and it angers him? Even if I don’t say anything yet.” Somehow, as you thought of the consequences to your decision, it was Steve’s face that kept popping in your head. 

His icy eyes trained on you; his fingers stroking you before clenching around your throat. 

Natalie paused, glancing at you with a scowl. She didn’t seem annoyed with your question, but rather with the fact she had no certain answer for it. Natalie liked knowing everything. 

“That I don't know.” She admitted, with a small pout. “In different circumstances I’d go for some predictable wrath, but honestly? He declared your engagement. That’s definitely completely unpredictable. So who knows what he’d do.” 

It was a very small, very naive consolation, but you reminded yourself that if he wanted you dead, Rogers would have made that happen already. 

If you were his employee who betrayed him, then severe torture awaited, if not aforementioned death. 

What awaited an unruly fiancee?

You hoped to never find out. Being extra careful in your act of casual trip to the coffee shop on the pointed day, you already considered potential excuses for another meeting, details of which Duvall was supposed to give you.

It better not be on some late evening in some shady place, because even though you still didn’t catch anyone following you it didn’t mean Rogers didn’t have an eye on you. 

To your surprise, and actual relief, Duval didn’t talk to you this time, just slipped you a piece of paper as he tossed out a napkin into a bin right next to which you were standing at the coffee shop. It contained the address of a small apothecary in a nearby neighborhood and an afternoon hour. 

That was very clever. A visit to such a place wasn’t anything unusual, even if most people bought their medicine at the big drugstores. And since it would still be daylight, it seemed even more harmless. 

Natalie agreed with you on that, telling you also about a bakery nearby into which you could also step in to keep the appearance of running errands. 

Both of you probably watched too many crime shows, but it came in handy. 

The lights in the apothecary were on when you went in, but it occurred to you that it was completely empty only when the door closed behind you. 

There were shelves stacked with medicines, some key-locked cases and an antique looking chest of drawers, which you suspected was more for decoration than to keep chemicals inside. 

There was no one behind the counter, however. Only the backdoor, leading to an additional room, was open. 

“Hello?” You called out, not moving from your spot near the door, in case you needed to run. 

There was some shuffling and then Duvall appeared in the backdoor. He smiled in relief, clearly fearing you would not come. He beckoned you over and you followed him through the short, narrow corridor into another room.

Spacious, but minimalist (to not say empty) compared to the front. There were two industrial tables and three chairs, some metal cabinets and neatly grouped apparatus. 

The man who leaned against one of the tables didn’t look like a chemist. 

Though you suspected a man like him may know a thing or ten about chemicals that blew up, judging by his close to military look. Well, since you never met an ATF agent in person, perhaps it was how they dressed. 

“Claude Batroc.” He introduced himself, with a smile that perhaps would be charming if not for a hint of dishonesty to it.

There was something about that man that instantly made you feel uneasy. 

Steve raised the hair on the back of your neck as well, but his type of danger was a sizzling black fog that engulfed you in its warm embrace and zapped your body with scary tingles. Batroc was the sound of screeching tires a second before a truck pummels into you.

Your instinct was telling you it’s best to squirm your way out of this, even though you haven’t yet heard the deal they offered. 

“Officer Duvall claims you’re able to help me,” you swallowed past your nervousness and looked at him expectantly. 

Like Natalie told you, you planned on making sure their promise was solid, before you jumped off any cliff.  

“I am.” He nodded, tilting his head to the side. “But that depends on what you can give me?”

You frowned. You assumed they knew how new and short your acquaintance with Rogers was; that you weren’t one of his inner circle people, who could provide a lot of intel. 

Foolishly maybe, but you thought being threatened and knowing of Felix’s demise was enough for them to consider you an important witness. There wasn’t anything else of heavy value that you could bring to the table. 

“Does he really have the stones?” came Batroc’s direct question.

Simple, but completely confusing for you. 

Out of all the things you could’ve expected them to ask you, that never came to mind. 

“I don’t know anything about any stones,”  you said slowly. Your frown deepened as your brain tried to work out, if maybe there were some jewels involved in the whole mess.

Was Howard hiding a diamond mine under the health center, or something? 

“There’s a rumor that Rogers is in possession of the Infinity Stones.” Duvall mentioned and you glanced his way over your shoulder. When he saw your face, he sighed in disappointment. It was clear you were unaware of what they were talking about. 

“They belonged to Thanos. A Greek mogul, who’d probably surpass Zeus himself if mythological riches and armies were comparable to the real ones. He was in possession of the six, most valued gems in the world. They are called the Infinity Stones.”

“Few years ago Thanos was found dead.” Batroc took over the story. “Along with most of his men. A job so clean, nothing pointed to a rampage. And nothing but the gems disappeared from his fortress. No organization ever boasted it to be their job. In time, Rogers’ name has been whispered as the one to do it, but he never confirmed. Never put them up for auction.”

You shook your head again. The only gems that came to your mind as you thought of Steve Rogers were the few that glinted in the dark, thick silver of his rings. 

You doubted anyone would put the most valuable jewels in simple rings, which he wore daily on full display for everyone to see. 

Then again, wouldn’t that be a perfect power move? A shiny middle finger and a warning to anyone who dared to think they could cross Rogers. 

“A different angle then.” Batroc changed the topic. Quite eagerly, too, as if the one he was moving onto was to him far more important than a few shiny rocks. 

“Why is he circling around the health center?” Something dark, greedy, flashed in his eyes. “He’s already got his people sitting all over it. Made an effort to reach you directly, not just work under your nose.”

When Batroc straightened and made a slow step forward, you stepped back. Duvall was standing in the doorway, blocking your escape route. You didn’t think you’d need one, but now your instincts screamed at you that there was something bad behind their intentions. 

“Rogers isn’t the kind of man to tell his secrets left and right.” You tried to stand your ground, despite your pulse quickening in fear.

You weren’t a type of person to limitlessly trust the law enforcement, but since they were supposed to be determined to build a case against Rogers they should treat you (as the potential help in successful operation) with less creepiness.

At the moment, Batroc’s stance and the way his eyes danced over your form were displaying a poor skill at charm and comfort. 

“Maybe you aren’t privy to his secrets.” Batroc shrugged, then bared his teeth in a sinister grin. “Or maybe you’re the one who actually holds the key to the project Rogers has been building, huh?” 

“Quentin said you keep yourself guarded, which is smart if you’re going toe to toe with the likes of us. But there’s not a can that can’t be opened…” 

Perhaps Batroc was an agent and maybe he was building a case against Rogers. His methods, however, were those of another gutter kingpin. He could be working for one, doing his official job and an extra one on the side. Or he could be one himself. 

You should’ve predicted that your hope for help would be false. 

You considered Rogers playing you, testing your loyalty, meanwhile another mobster scum was attempting to use you to screw with Steve. 

“We’re gonna play some interrogation game. With bonuses.” At Batroc’s words, you made another hasty step backwards, your back hitting the metal cabinets. 

A sudden wheezing sound and a loud thump of a falling body averted Batroc’s attention from you. 

Duvall fell down lifelessly, face first onto the floor. At least a second passed before you noticed a pool of red spilling around his head like a horrific halo. 

Then something heavy flew across the space, knocking Batroc’s gun from his hand as he reached for it. 

Still glued to the cabinets, shock freezing you in place, you watched as Steve Rogers strode inside in all of his dark glory. Shoulders so wide he barely fit in the entrance, muscles straining under the fabric of his clothes.  

He and Batroc clashed in the middle of the room - forearm blocking a punch, then a knee up to block a kick. 

Both of them were fast and strong, their fight a darker, less choreographed movie combat. For every of Batroc’s hits, Steve delivered two. Despite his bulk, Steve was exceptionally graceful in his technique. His opponent stumbled for a second, shaking his head to get rid of dizziness after one of Steve’s hooks. Meanwhile Rogers didn’t even wince when Batroc managed to split his lip open. 

It wasn’t a fight that would continue honorably, until one yielded and pledged fealty. 

After disarming Batrock when he pulled out a knife, Steve kicked him a few steps away then drew out his gun and shot him three times. Twice in the chest, once in the head. 

You flinched with each gunfire sound, but remained glued to the spot. 

Your gaze was on Rogers, you didn’t pay much attention to other men stepping inside. Steve spoke to them, but all the voices blurred into a dull sound as your hammering heartbeat threatened to pound away each vessel in your body. 

Only your sight remained focused. Your mind picked Rogers as the only solid point to anchor itself to.

Perhaps simply because he saved you. Once again. Even if it was to ensnare you himself. 

You pushed against the cabinets, trying to bury yourself into them when Steve dismissed his people with some short orders and started towards you, but they didn’t budge an inch. 

You weren’t attempting to escape him. You wanted to escape your growing need to wrap your arms around him and cling to the beast that spared your life as the only source of comfort at the moment. 

Yet, you knew the sickness that bubbled in your stomach wasn’t because you felt a twisted sense of safety now that Rogers was here, but because you witnessed people being killed, blood splattering; hell, you nearly were mauled. Again. 

The anxiety was skyrocketing. Or it would be, if not for the freezing shock still gripping you so tightly you felt like trapped in a glass box. It was an inner torment, procured by your own neurotransmitters and chemicals, that kept you on the edge of a malfunctioning fight or flight mechanism. 

Steve’s broad form caging you in, shutting away the bloodied world outside of his arms, was the first thing that pulled your focus back to reality of now and here. 

The feeling of a hot, metal muzzle touching the underside of your jaw snapped you out of the traumatic trance. 

He pointed his gun at you. The one with which he shot Batroc. 

A spike of adrenaline roused your body into full alertness. However, instead of logical terror and tearing up at the oncoming death, your brain paid attention to how delicate that pressure of a gun was.

How the warmth of it felt against your clammy skin; how refreshing was the metallic scent of it and how quickly it disappeared under the familiar now undertones of Rogers’ cologne. 

That gun held so much power. 

It ruthlessly disposed of a direct threat to you. An extension to the one who was behind saving you over and over (even if it was only, so he could be the one to torment you). Steve was living up to being your knight. Not in shining armor; not even one with good intentions. No, he was a black knight whose curse trapped you in a twisted realm. 

“Did he lay a hand on you?” pressing the muzzle to your chin, Steve moved your face left and right as his eyes scanned your state.

Swallowing hard, you shook your head. You were unable to form a single word, your throat constricted with all the sobs which you couldn’t force out of yourself. 

“Good.” Steve stated simply, without much genuine relief. 

“Your naughty stunt served me well.” He mused as he gently dragged the barrel of his gun across your cheek and down your neck; like he was caressing you with fingers, not a deadly weapon. 

“I wanted to get rid of Batroc for a while now, but he buried himself so deep it was hard to find him. I should’ve known he’d come up for something when he saw everyone else wanted it.” 

You weren’t paying enough attention to Steve’s words to decipher their full meaning, your senses were more interested in attuning to the trace of his gun on your skin. 

Holding your gaze captive with his icy blue eyes (so clear and unmarred with anger, despite what just happened), Steve kept moving the muzzle of his gun from one of your collar bones to the other. Slowly.

He had to read something in your body you weren’t yet aware of - a spark of curiosity ignited in his irises. 

You realized what it was a few seconds later as you felt your nipples stiffen. 

No!, a voice in your head whispered in utter disbelief. That current at the touch of Rogers’ gun was arousal. Underlaid with fear, but the kind that spiced the arousal higher, not switched it off.

It had to be the adrenaline still rushing, you thought. Your mind locked in an acute stress reaction, so that your body got confused; it didn’t know how to react, or which hormones to produce.      

That had to be the reason, the only explanation. Because you have never experienced anything like this. 

Rogers being despicable aside, you simply never entertained any kinky fantasies that included a gun, or any other weapon, or being overpowered so completely. That was never something you considered you might like. 

But as much as you were afraid of Steve in general, in this very moment you somehow knew he wouldn’t hurt you. Not in a bad way. 

And the gun pressed to your body was a substantial proof of his power. One that could touch you physically; do things to you… 

“My, my, Princess,” Steve leaned closer; whether to feel you shiver, or to shield the view of you from any prying eyes. “You’re just full of surprises.” 

He ran the gun down your body - between your breasts and down your quivering belly. When the still warm muzzle nudged the hem of your flowy skirt up, the haze of shock snapped.

“I-” you started, but your voice was weak and breathless, turning into a gasp as Steve drew the gun higher up your thigh. 

“I should go.” You squeaked out, but somehow couldn’t tear your eyes away from Steve’s. 

The only muscles you moved were those of your legs, which parted slightly as he slipped the gun over your clothed core. 

His free hand shot up to your neck; ringed fingers curling around your throat in a loose reminder of Steve’s dominance. Like the first time he’s done it, your breath hitched in your lungs, your pupils widened and your knees weakened. 

Then the solid barrel rubbed against your covered folds and your lips parted on a needy whimper.

While it shocked you, it absolutely delighted Steve. 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Princess.” He cooed, dragging the gun back and forth over your pussy. “It’s okay to need to take the edge off. After the afternoon you’ve just had.”

“That’s not how-” a part of your brain tried to fight the building arousal. 

You closed your eyes, instantly opening them again at Steve’s warning hiss. In his eyes danced a glint of triumph - bright and cold like a blade pulled straight from the forgery. 

“Not like this.” You muttered, embarrassed with how eager your body was to experience the little thrill of being caressed with something that could so easily hurt you. 

Sex as a way of destressing wasn’t a foreign concept. Hell, an orgasm or two often helped you relieve some tension after dealing with daily obstacles and minor inconveniences. You’d even agree about needing one to burst you out of the bubble of shock you fell into today. 

But you could do that on your own, not by the hand of the handsome monster who forced himself into your life. And with your own toys - the normal, safe ones. 

It was both a relief and a shameful disappointment when Steve withdrew the gun. 

“Slide your hand into your panties, Princess,” he brushed the side of the gun against your arm, nudging your wrist.

Your fingers twitched, but you didn’t move. Your heart was still going like crazy, the beat of it pulsing in your clit. 

“Come on,” Steve traced his gun up your arm, then tapped your cheek with it, “be a good girl and put your hand in your panties.”

You knew it wasn’t a request, but a command. No matter if Steve’s voice melted into a soft, thick and sweet like chocolate tone. Slowly, you reached your hand beneath your skirt and under the waistband of your cotton and lace panties. 

“That’s it.” Steve brushed his lips over your temple, whispering dirty encouragement. “Now slide your fingers over your pussy. All the way.”

You did as he asked; trembling fingers dipping between your soft folds.

“Now show them to me.” He pulled back slightly.

You wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole to cut your shame short, as you lifted your hand up for Steve to see. 

Your fingers were sticky with your wetness, a pearly string of slick stretching between them. 

“Seems to me that’s exactly how you need it, Princess.” Steve smirked; icy blue of his irises heating into white flame.

A retort was forming on your tongue, but died a second later. When Steve’s mouth closed around your digits and he sucked them clean. 

His tongue lavished the crease between your fingers, teasing your rotten mind with a reflection of where else on your body he could use that tongue. Suction of his mouth wasn’t gentle, strumming down your nerves with vibration from his pleased hum. He pulled off, with a lewd swipe of his tongue.

For a millisecond, your gazes locked in quiet suspension. 

A blink of an eye and then the gun was back beneath your skirt, while Steve’s lips were capturing yours in a filthy demand. He pushed the barrel past the fabric of your panties this time, hard metal grazing your delicate parts. His dark chuckle in response to your moan reverberated on your lips. 

The fingers curled around your neck tightened slightly, his thumb pressing over your carotid, but not enough to cut off your air. Not yet, at least.

Stars danced in the corners of your vision, heightened pleasure mixed with delicious trepidation filling your body with bubbles of ecstasy unknown to you until now. 

Steve angled his gun so that it spread your folds, rubbing your clit and teasing your entrance with each slide. Your hips rocked back eagerly. When he pushed a little deeper, pressing the muzzle into your opening, you almost seized. 

One of your hands flew to Steve’s forearm, holding onto the wrist of his hand which was choking you. The other fisted his shirt near the collar. You let out a startled cry that turned from appalled to needy. 

“Give it up, Princess,” Steve teased your bottom lip with his tongue, all the while nudging the muzzle into your cunt. 

Muscles in your legs tensed, your eyes shimmered with tears that weren’t of sadness or pain. You were ashamed of your reaction to the filthy debauchery, but you wanted, needed it so badly.

“I’m gonna have you cum for me anyway, so just let go.” 

That demand was sharper. Steve’s fingers on your throat tightened, cutting off the flow of air. At the same time, he pushed the gun deeper. Merely an inch or two slipped inside, but it was enough to feel your pussy stretch around it. 

Your climax was an outburst with sharp edges, each tremor feeling like an electric current. Your cries sounded choked, though Steve released his hold on your neck enough for the air to flow easily into your lungs. 

The gun wasn’t inside you anymore, but he kept moving it harshly against your clit, prolonging your orgasm to a point of painful throb that threatened to build into another humiliation if he continued longer. 

If he slid the gun back, or his cock into your quivering cunt, you’d probably lose your conscience. While cumming all over him again. 

Finally, Steve eased the pressure. He occupied your lips with sensual kisses, slow and lingering, and tongue dipping indecently into your mouth. The gun withdrew from your panties, the fabric clinging to your drenched pussy in an embarrassingly uncomfortable way. 

Your arms fell to your sides when Steve let go of your neck and straightened. He wiped his gun, covered with your slick, in your skirt, then secured it back in the holster at his side.

“There now. Isn’t it better?” You weren’t certain if he was mocking you, or if it was a pure cocky smugness. 

You were gaping at him, your breath still ragged. Your legs were shaking and your heart was hammering, but there was warmth and life and a vivid feeling of anger resurfacing. No longer the cold stupor of shock and fear.

No, Steve beckoned your brain back to reality. After short circuiting it. 

“Better?” You hissed, clenching your hands into fists. “You pointed a gun at me!” 

“And you creamed all over it, Princess.” Steve’s knowing smirk added to your shame. 

“You shot someone!” You derailed, unable (and unwanting) to unpack the mess of your body’s reaction to being fucked with a gun. 

“Just straight up shot them. In broad daylight!” It was now reaching your mind that all the terrors and dirty deeds, which have happened in the past half an hour, didn’t take place in the deep darkness of the night. It was a sunny afternoon, with people walking the streets just outside the front door of an ordinary apothecary. 

“They would’ve hurt you,” came Steve’s remorseless reply. 

Simple and direct, spoken in a warning growl.

“Nobody hurts what’s mine.”   

There was nothing romantic about it, even if your post-orgasmic heart flowed with bonding oxytocin. 

It was a dark claim, making you into Steve’s possession. His protection of you came only from the need to have his pride untouched - if anyone managed to steal or hurt his bride, it weakened Steve’s ruthless reputation. 

“Now let’s get you out of here, so my cleaning team can swipe in.” Steve motioned at you to follow him as he moved toward the exit. 

Your feet were frozen to the spot. There was a dead body of a man between you and the door; the pool of blood inches away from your toes. You definitely wanted to get out of there, but you couldn’t simply make yourself jump over someone’s corpse. 

Steve’s impatient sigh was motivating - you did not want to get on his nerves too much. But your body wasn’t listening to any of your commands. As it didn’t listen to you when you tried to fight off the arousal earlier.

Suddenly, you were picked up. 

Steve hoisted you up easily, throwing you over his shoulder. He carried you over Duvall’s dead body and through the narrow corridor, ignoring your outraged squeak.  

“All that blood and death, you really need to focus on lighter things from now on.” He said conversationally, tone light as if aforementioned gore was just a chore from which one needed to take a break. 

“For a while, at least-” Steve continued, as he carried you out the front- “Wedding planning should help with that.”

“No! I don’t want it!” You protested, kicking your legs. 

With what just happened, you couldn’t imagine forcing yourself to organize a fucking wedding. One you didn’t want in the first place. You couldn’t imagine going back to your routine, daily life at all. 

You just weren’t sure if it was the deaths you witnessed that changed your life forever, or the wrong kind of desire that Steve brought out of you. 

“Oh, I’m sure you don’t. But you will.” He put you down on your feet once you were outside. 

Steve cupped your chin, crushing it painfully between his thumb and forefinger, and tilted your face up.

“We both know you will be a good girl for me, Princess.”