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themorningsunshine · 11 months

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Pancakes

Pie eyed over you - Chapter 4

Mafia - Baker AU

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Previous Part

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader

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

Warnings - Implied smut, Making out, wounds, brief mention of first aid, fluff and angst

Word count - 5.9k

a/n - I really tried writing smut for the first time for this chapter, but realised soon enough that it’s not my cup of tea. Alteast not yet. Maybe some other time. Till then, please let me know what you think :)

(I couldn’t find a more accurate gif. It in no way represents the reader)

"y/n, y/n!"

Wanda's voice and her brisking past you to switch off the coffee machine brought you off the hole you were glaring into the wall with your stare.

Your feet walked on your own as you picked up the cup and walked towards the elderly woman, handing over the cup, a smile plastered on your face.

"Are you okay, dear?" The elderly woman, Mrs. Hudson, asked in a gentle voice.

You nodded your head and with a more convincing smile at her concern, replied, "Yeah, yeah, I am totally fine, Mrs Hudson. Just a lot on my mind right now."

"You have to take care of yourself, child. How else will I get the best coffee in the world?"

You chuckled before replying, "Don't worry, Mrs Hudson. You and this town aren't going to get rid of me this easily."

She gives you a wider smile and with small steps, carries her cup and box outside. You wanted to help her and make sure she reached home safely, but after all these months, you just know how stubborn she can be.

"Y/n, you seriously need to take care of yourself. You look tired."

You dismiss Wanda with a shake of your hand, you knew you were tired. You felt tired. But it had nothing to do with the bakery or your chores, you knew it and if nothing else, they were a pretty good distraction from what had been plaguing your mind for what felt like forever now. "I am fine, Wan. Don't you worry about me? You have got enough on your plate." And you meant it. Ever since Wanda gave birth to the twin boys, she had been super busy and the both of you hardly got any time to hang out together, but you understood. She was a mom now. She would eventually take out some time for the both of you, and she did. If the shopping bags and the skip in both of your steps were any indications, she came back for a wonderful girls' day out after all.

"I am never going to stop worrying about you, y/n. It's kind of my birthright." She noted before picking up a cupcake from the shelf.

After a moment of comfortable silence and a couple of customers, when you found yourself lost in your thoughts once again, Wanda spoke up. "Come on, y/n. I know it's been a month and that's a pretty long time, but you need to stop thinking about the worst-case scenarios. Maybe he is safe and sound, and you are just worrying yourself over nothing."

You sighed. You knew she was right but there was absolutely nothing that could calm down your nerves. "I - I don't know, Wan. That day, Steve said it was an emergency. They sounded so worried. And I have got no damn idea about what it even was about."

"What emergencies would mechanics have that could take a month?" Wanda asks with a furrow. The first time she had met James, flashed back into her eyes. She knew something had not been right about him. She just couldn't pin out what. She didn't want to tell you and worry you about it if it was nothing.

"I - I think something is not right, Wan. I think there is something huge he isn't telling me." Your throat contracted as the words left your mind. You had been thinking that for quite some time now. But giving voice to your suspicions and putting them out there, was a different deal altogether. It wasn't just a thought running into your mind anymore.

"You think he has been lying to you?" Wanda whispers, her heart sinking in her chest at your dejected expression. You didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve lies or even half-baked truths and it hurt her so much that she could do nothing about this.

"I don't know. I mean, he could lie to me, right? It's not like he owes me anything. He could straight up one day decide to never show up at the bakery again and there is absolutely nothing I could do about it."

"But he wouldn't do that. You know it." She puts her hand ahead to try to comfort you.

"Then where is he, Wan? Where has he gone for one month without a single word? And hell, I can't even ask around if someone has seen him, because guess what, he is supposed to be nothing to me." You half screamed with exasperation. You wished it wasn't this way. You wished that he hadn't just gone without any contact for a month and you wished that it didn't hurt this much. You wish you could just care less.

"But is he? Is he nothing to you, y/n?" She asks, knowing the answer all too well, but she needs to hear it from you. But your silence and the slight tears brimming in the corner of your eyes are an answer enough for her.

She puts her hand around you to comfort you before stating what has been obvious to her for a long time now. " You're in love with him. "

You suddenly take a step back, running your palm on your face, before replying, "What? No, no, no. That's not true."

There is a pang in your chest that tells you otherwise. The way the bakery hasn't just been the same since he left tells you otherwise. The way your smiles haven't truly reached your eyes for the past week says otherwise. The way your eyes always instantly look at the door at the voice of the bell, hoping with everything you have that it's him, tells you otherwise.

But you wish to stay in denial for a little longer. You wish to ignore all the feelings James Barnes has ignited inside you locked up a little longer. Because for some reason, you knew that it could only lead to inevitable hurt, and you wish you could live in this blissful ignorance a little longer.

Wanda just puts her arms around you and engulfs you in a hug, muttering comforting words into your hair.

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

It was a dead silent night.

The only thing illuminating his path were the few streetlights and lights of the shop that were still open.

Bucky flinches slightly as the wound on his face makes its presence known.

He knows he shouldn't be here. Maybe at work, informing everybody of the long mission, celebrating the fact that one of his biggest enemies is gone for good now, or maybe getting some medical care, but definitely not here.

But it has been too long, and if he doesn't see you right now, make sure that you're okay, even though he's the one who has been in near-death situations more times than he can count, he is not sure he will be able to breathe.

Maybe he should have stopped for a moment and thought about what he would tell you about the scars and the wounds, but right now, he was a desperate man.

As the bakery comes into view, he lets out a sigh of relief when he notices that the light is on.

You would be cleaning up after the day right now. Maybe, if he was lucky, you would let him just sit there for some time and not send him away from the door. After the radio silence he has given you for more than a month, he will deserve that, but he is not sure if he will be able to live with it.

When he reaches the bakery, he stops for a moment and looks inside.

There, you are. In all your glory, wiping the counter with a determined look on your face.

Bucky is stopped in his tracks. Just like the first night he had met you, he needs a moment to catch his breath, to look at you for a moment longer to convince himself that this is real. You are real.

To him, you get even more beautiful every time he looks at you.

As if on instinct, you look up from the counter towards the door, and your movements halt when your eyes meet the blue ones you had missed more than anything.

You stand there, staring at him for a minute, to make sure that this is actually true, that he was here and it was not just your mind playing games.

When you are finally able to get your feet to move, you walk towards the door to the bakery and pull the door open.

Bucky looks at you with a small smile on his face. Even after he had fought through literal hell the past month, the mere sight of you made it all better. It was like he had been lost into the sea for far too long and you were the first sight of civilization, of peace, of life.

But there is a slight fear in his eyes. He knows you had all the right in the world to just ask him to get lost, that after the radio silence he had put you through, he would deserve everything you had to say to him.

But he couldn't have expected what you did next.

You took hurried steps toward him and before he knew it, you brought your hands around his neck, engulfing him into a tight hug.

"James" You breathed his name as you held onto him tighter. You wanted to be angry with him, to let him know just how much he had worried you, to give him a chance to silence all your worries, but the second you saw him, all you could get yourself to care about was that he was here, and he was fine.

After the initial shock, Bucky brought his arms around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer and burying his face into your hair, letting your smell and the feeling of you pressed against him, engulf his senses.

He doesn't know what peace felt like, but he is pretty sure it feels a lot like this.

The both of you stay like that for a moment longer before anger comes sweeping back to you and you pull away.

"Where the hell was - " Your words die on your tongue at the sight in front of you. James' face is bruised and he looks like he has been through hell. He looks tired, and all the shine that you had started to associate with his eyes is completely gone now.

"Holy shit." You almost shout before bringing your hand towards his face to gently run your fingers over his bruises.

He flinches first before closing his eyes and leaning into your touch and you can't help but feel guilty for being angry with him when he has clearly been going through something.

"How did you get hurt?"

He bites his lip and slowly opens his eyes, but doesn't look at you, instead choosing to focus on your palm that's still resting on his face. "I - I got into an accident." He says, cringing at the way he hesitates. He used to be able to lie like a breeze. It was the easiest thing in the world for him. But there is something in your eyes and something inside him that's begging him to stop this. To just come clean and face the consequences. But he knows for a fact that once he does that, your hand wouldn't gently rest on his face like it's doing now, healing wounds that he didn't even know existed and you wouldn't be looking at him like that. Like he could ever in this lifetime be deserving of the affection of someone like you. And he realizes he needs it, maybe just for tonight, but he needs to live in a false lie.

You bring your hand away as his words settle in. There is a hesitation in his voice and a pang in your chest that tells you he's lying, even though you desperately want to believe him. You search for something in his eyes, anything that could convince you that he was telling you the truth, but you find nothing.

You look down, blinking back the tears that are threatening to spill.

You shake your head and then look up only to be met by his battered face and you take a deep breath before reaching out for his hand.

You needed to help him right now. If you knew something about James that was not a lie, it was that he could be extremely stubborn and he would never take care of the bruises himself. You could either wallow in self-pity or demand the truth later. For now, you take his hand in yours and pull him towards the stairs leading to your apartment.

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

Bucky very slightly flinches in pain as you put the tweezers down on the plate, his bare minimum reaction to everything you were doing would have been a concern to you but you knew just how strong he could be.

You look up at his face and feel relieved at what you see. The wounds weren't very severe and you were thankful for the first aid box you always kept tucked inside your washroom.

It had been almost an hour since the both of you stepped into the apartment. His wounds were all catered to now, including the ones on his chest and back.

He sat there, shirtless, in the kitchen of your apartment as you slowly looked after the bruises one by one, using everything you had not to stare at his bare chest. It really should be illegal for someone to be this good-looking.

You could see the scars where metal met skin and you couldn't help the pain that swept into your chest. You had gently run your fingers across them as if that would somehow relieve his pain and Bucky would never say it out loud, but it somehow did.

Not a single word had been uttered between the both of you since you stepped into the apartment. James had tried talking, anything that would make you look at him even for a fleeting moment but your sheer reluctance to meet his eyes made his words die on his tongue.

When you are finally done mending all the wounds, you keep the first aid box to the side and take a seat in front of him, still refusing to look at him.

James looks at you but is met with complete ignorance from you. He knows he deserves this, but he would apologize if you just gave him the chance. He finally decides to fill the silence that has surrounded the apartment for so long. "Sweets - "

"How did you get hurt, James?" You cut him off, looking up to look directly into his eyes for the first time that night, begging him through your eyes to be honest for this once. To just cease your fears and tell you whatever he is so adamant about hiding.

Please, please, be honest with me, James.

I want to be able to believe you, to be able to trust you, to love you.

Please, don't lie to me.

"I told you, sweets. It was an accident."

You feel the worry and hurt morph into anger. "And where were you the past month? Preparing for the accident?"

You watched as he shook his head, unable to meet your eyes and you could feel your stomach drop. You didn't want to do this, not right now. He was hurt, and tired and your heart was begging you to stop and save the little shred of hope left between the both of you, but you had to know.

James let out a sigh and closed his eyes before muttering, "Sweets, I told you. It's nothing."

You let out an involuntary humorless chuckle, before closing your eyes shut, "Why is it so difficult for you to be honest with me, James?"

Bucky closed his eyes shut and clenched his fists, anything to stop him from spilling out everything to you. You sounded broken, hurt and he mentally berated himself for making you feel this way. There's nothing more he wanted than to let it all out, to lay the pieces of his soul bare in front of you.

But he instead leans his head closer, his forehead brushing against yours, willing you with everything he has to Munster and everything he couldn't put into words.

You let a silent sob as your lips quivered and a tear rolled down your cheek. "I - I don't know, James. You were gone for more than a month and I had absolutely no idea where you were. I was worried, but I shouldn't be. You don't owe it to me to tell you where you were, you don't owe me anything - "

"That's not true." He interrupted, voice pleading, something that felt so foreign to him, but for you, he would do it. For you, he would get down on his knees if it meant you would stop hurting. "I need you to know that that's not true, sweets. You have no idea how sorry I am that I couldn't reach out to you, but please, believe me when I say this, I would have if I could, 'cause it was killing me. Every single moment not spent with you, not knowing how you are is torture, a torture I am not sure I will be able to survive for long."

You let out a broken sob as he brought his hand behind your neck, gently pushing you towards him, your foreheads now completely leaning on each other, your breaths mingling and you involuntarily close your eyes.

The whole world ceased to exist at that moment. The both of you comfort each other with your mere presence. There were a lot of things unsaid, a lot of things unvisited, for that small moment right there, all that mattered was that you had found each other.

After what felt like an eternity, you let out your worst fear. Something that has plagued your mind for a long time now. "Sometimes, I - I feel like I don't even know you, James like all of this is a huge lie, a front that would fall apart someday."

You don't let him answer as you pull back and stand up quickly to turn away. You had to get away from there. The intimacy of it all, and how real it felt, filled you with dread now.

But before you can walk away from him, James's hand shoots up and grabs hold of your wrist. His hold is gentle, but firm, keeping you with him. He looks up and you see in his eyes how vulnerable he is. How important this conversation is for him, too.

He gets up and takes a step forward and your heart begins beating so fast, you are pretty sure he would be able to hear it.

You take a step back if only to save your heart from getting away, a meek attempt at postponing getting it broken by the man in front of you, the man who had held your heart for a long time now, only for your back to hit the counter.

As James took another step ahead and with nowhere to go, you saw in his eyes as several different emotions pooled through his blue orbs. The intensity of his gaze makes you look away.

He slowly brings his hand under your chin and makes you look up at him and you realize there is hardly a few inches of distance between the both of you. Your thoughts turn frantic and it becomes impossible to focus on your breathing.

"You know me, sweets. You know me in ways nobody has ever before."

He whispers the sentence as if it was something to be kept just between you two, his voice dripping with conviction and honesty. His eyes determined to make you believe every single word falling from his lips, which were now mere inches from yours.

He knows it's true. In all those times when everything became a little too much and he wasn't himself, even when he didn't even realize it, you did. You could read him like a book and it would have scared him if it wasn't for what came after. Your comforting words, your slight touches that made him believe that this world hadn't gone to shit just yet, that everything could still be okay. You didn't have to know what troubled his mind and plagued his nightmares but you made it all better and silenced the whisperings of his troubled mind nonetheless.

You know it's stupid, but you believe him. You believe every single word that falls from his mouth, and you realize the man in front of you was always going to hold a piece of your heart, even if he had no idea. Because he might have lied about something that you didn't know, but it didn't have to matter. Nothing else in the world had to matter if he kept looking at you like this.

His intense gaze falls from your eyes to your lips for a fleeting second and you would have missed it, if not for your sheer inability to focus on anything else but him at that moment.

Your breath mingles as he leans closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

The world stops spinning when his lips finally touch yours.

The silence around you explodes and a world of colors appears from behind your closed eyes.

Every thought in your mind is stripped out and replaced with him.

Just him

The kiss is gentle, soft, almost tender. All the things that have been missing from his life for as long as he could remember.

He doesn't just feel the kiss on his lips, he feels it in every fiber of his being.

The way his bones feel like they are on fire. Like his soul has finally found water.

Like every part of him that came from a dead star is alive again.

It is everything he has ever wanted. You are everything he has ever wanted.

he slides his hand to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as if even an inch of distance between the both of you was too much for him.

You encircle your arms around his neck, your fingers gently running through his hair.

You taste like coffee and cookies, and it's all exceptionally sweet and he wants to taste it all like a man who has been devoid of air for a long time.

When the necessity to breathe arises, you pull away. But James doesn't let you get too far, as he walks you toward the counter, trapping you between his arms.

Your lips are parted, still breathing heavily, when he leans in again. Now that he knew how your lips felt, he never wanted to be away from them for even a second.

This kiss is passionate and desperate, hands wandering, tongues desperately exploring each other's mouth, your back pushing against the counter.

James' hands get lower towards your thighs and he picks you up effortlessly placing you comfortably on the counter, stepping between your legs, not breaking up the kiss for even a moment.

He bites your lower lip and you let out a sinful moan, making all his blood run south.

He breaks up the kiss before bringing his attention to your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your exposed skin.

"James" You hiss out when he kisses that particular spot.

James suddenly stops and looks at you. You would think he didn't want to take this further had it not been for the desperate hold he had on your waist.

He looks into your eyes, not an ounce of hesitation in his eyes, before saying, "Tell me to stop."

You frown before he continues. "Tell me to stop, sweets and I swear I will, 'cause if you don't," He swallows before continuing. "I can't promise you that you will be able to walk tomorrow."

You are soaking wet, which is proof enough that you want this as much as he does, so you don't ask him to stop. Instead, you pull him towards you by his collar and press your lips to his in a passionate kiss giving him all the permission he needed.

He brings his hand under your thighs before picking you up and you wrap your legs around his waist, encircling his neck with your arms, holding onto him for dear life.

He walks the both of you towards your bedroom without breaking the kiss.

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

The warmth of sun rays falls on your face as you slowly open your eyes.

The feeling of an arm splayed on your stomach makes your heart stop for a second before the memories of last night come sweeping back to you.

It all felt like a dream and considering just how good last night was, you would have actually considered it a dream if it wasn't for James' hand laying gently on your stomach while also effectively pinning you to the bed and the feeling of soreness between your legs.

But you didn't mind. Not when he had taken you apart more times than you could count last night, leaving you a mumbling mess every single time.

You look to your side and your eyes land on his sleeping form.

With gentle hues of the sunlight sweeping its away through the window and onto his face, he looked dreamy, ethereal and you couldn't help but stare at him.

It was still early into the morning but you knew you would have to get up soon enough, so, in a desperate attempt to engrave this memory into your head, you brought your fingers to his face, gently touching his cheek, his stubble a little rough under your touch.

It is a tender moment for you. One in which you can engulf in your feelings for him a little longer, before facing reality, a reality in which he might never feel the same way.

You watch as his eyes slowly flutter open, immediately turning into a warm look when they land on you and you can feel your cheeks turning warm.

He smirks before saying, "I could get used to this."

You chuckle and take your hand away before he holds it in his and brings it to his chest. "Good morning to you too, James."

"Good morning, sweets." He leans in and places a light feathery kiss on your lips and it's already the best start to a morning you've ever had.

When he leans back, his eyes never leaving yours, you attempt to get out from under his hand to get the day started, but he doesn't move his arm an inch, effectively keeping you in the same spot.

"We both have got work to do, James." You tried your hardest to be stern but the way he looked with his bed hair and a carefree smile on his face made your insides melt.

"Nope, it's too early." He mutters, closing his eyes and pressing his face on your neck, his breath on your exposed skin making your skin tingle.

You chuckle before wrapping your hands around him, already drifting toward sleep and you feel him smile.

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

The sound of footsteps brings you out of your stupor and you flutter your eyes open.

The bed beside you is empty and before you could think much about it, a voice from the door brings a smile to your face.

"Good morning, sweets."

You turn your head towards James who is leaning at the doorway his arms crossed. He isn't wearing a shirt and even after last night, it doesn't stop amazing you just how perfect he is. Your eyes drift over his form, noticing how his sweatpants hang low. You shook your head, willing yourself to not let your mind go there.

"Like what you see?" He says, a smirk is evident in his voice.

You shrug before blatantly lying, "I have seen better."

He pushes himself from the doorway. He knew you were lying. The goofy smile on your face, and the blissful look you adorned told him everything he had to know.

When you hang your legs from the bed, about to get up, he told you to sit right there, before walking out of the room. Even when he was gone, you couldn't help the smile on your face. Your sheets smelled like him.

He came back a couple of minutes later, a mini table in his hand.

When he kept it in front of you, you gasped as you saw what was on it. There was a plate full of pancakes, a warm cup of coffee, and your living room flowers in a mug beside it.

You looked up and whispered under your breath, "James, you didn't have to do this."

"Are you kidding, sweets? God knows how many sweet meals I owe you. There are a little too many, but this is a good start.

You chuckled before leaning in and pressing your lips to his in a brief kiss.

You took a piece of the pancake and tasted it, doing everything in yourself to not let the grimace show on your face.

James was good at a lot of things. Intimidating people, physical strength, reading, shooting (apparently), knowing exactly what you wanted, and definitely sex. But cooking wasn't one of those things.

"So?" He asked, squinting his eyes trying to gauge your reaction.

You smiled at him before shoving the piece down your throat. "It's amazing."

His smile widened before he leaned towards the plate. "yeah, I knew it. Let me taste it."

"No, no, you don't - "

You were too late as he took a bite of the pancake and gagged before spitting it out. "It's terrible."

He leaned again and took the plate away from you. "No human should be subjected to this."

You chuckled. "It isn't that bad, James."

He shook his head in disapproval.

The both of you had coffee (which was pretty good) with you telling him everything you had planned for the bakery that day.

Bucky looked at you talking and sipping coffee and couldn't help the grin on his face. Your messy bed hair, sitting in an oversized shirt, talking so passionately about something you loved, filled his heart with warmth.

It was all so peaceful. So serene.

And he might not accept it right now, but if he got to start his day exactly like this for the rest of his life, he wouldn't mind one bit.

Unable to help himself, he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss.

You taste like fresh coffee and terribly baked pancakes, it's his favorite taste in the world.

You reciprocate the kiss with equal fever before realizing you were involuntarily slipping into his lap.

It took everything in you to break the kiss. "Nope, we both have got work to do."

You get up from the bed, walking away from him.

"Maybe I could convince you to spend the day in bed?" James said with a voice that made walking away almost impossible.

"It's not gonna be that easy, James." You said with a smirk before reaching the doorway and turning to look at him.

"Your underestimation of me hurts me, sweets." He said before getting up and walking towards you.

You took off from the doorway and ran towards the living room, giggling.

You hadn't even reached the sofas when you felt a pair of strong arms wrapping around you.

James picked you up from the ground, his bare chest pressing to your back before giving you a twirl and turning you towards him.

"Knew I'd catch you, sweets."

Your lips were parted breathing heavily as he brought his lips to yours, entering his tongue into your mouth. His hands pulled you by your waist bringing you closer, before reaching towards the buttons on your shirt.

You gasped as you felt his clothed length against your core, all your resolve fading.

The ringing of his phone became a background noise initially before jolting the both of you out of your haze and you reluctantly pulled back, pointing towards the kitchen counter he had kept his phone on the previous night.

James growled before stepping towards you again, choosing to ignore whoever it was who wanted his attention so badly.

But you leaned back, adamant about him picking up the phone. It could be important.

He stepped towards his phone, pressing it to his ears without checking the caller id.

Steve's voice bellowed against his ear and Bucky knew he was pissed. "Where the hell have you been, Buck? I have tried reaching you since last night."

"I was - I was in the middle of something, punk. Is this important?" He deliberately doesn't tell him where he is, wanting to keep everything between you for as long as he could.

"Of course it's important. We have a meeting with Stark in 15 minutes and you are not even here. This deal is important, Buck and you know, he doesn't like to wait."

"I don't give a shit about Stark, Steve. Why can't you or Sam handle this?"

"Because you know about these weapons more than any of us. I don't understand, you spent months trying to get this deal. What is something so important now?" Bucky could hear the suspicion rising in his tone.

"Fine." He sighed. "I will be there in 10."

He cuts the call before turning back and walking towards the kitchen, where you'd sneak off to give him some space to talk on the phone.

"Sweets, Steve called. I have to go." He sounded disappointed and regretful.

You tried to hide the disappointment in your voice before saying, "I told you we both have work to get to."

A moment of silence passed between the both of you, slightly awkward before he walked towards the bedroom to get dressed.

He walked back into the kitchen 5 minutes later, bid you goodbye, and walked towards the door.

He hastily turned back and took hurried steps towards the kitchen.

You looked up from the counter and frowned when you saw he had come back. But before you could utter a word, he pressed his lips against yours for a brief yet firm kiss.

"I was wrong, sweets. You are the best damn thing I have ever had." He spoke with a smirk before walking back towards the door.

You felt red creep up to your neck and you were stuck in place for a moment before shaking yourself out of your thoughts.

For the rest of the day, you felt giddy, happiness settling inside you, making you feel like you were flying.

But here's the thing.

Flying felt a lot like falling till you hit the ground.

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#mob bucky #pie eyed over you #bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky x reader #bakery au #mob au #mafia au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes flu #wanda maximoff #steve rogers #marvel #series

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mrs-illyrian-baby · 23 days

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Mob Rules - Cockwarming with Bucky (& Steve)

Cockwarming | Bucky Barnes x Reader | Drabble 800w

After a long day you settle down on the sofa with Bucky and Steve

Warnings: Sexual content & language. D/s themes, cockwarming, oral (m receiving), dirty talk.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Mob Rules | Poly Fics |Bucky | Steve

The house was quiet again, no raucous laughter or bantering, no loud banging as the rest of the Cap and Sarge's crew came and went. No phone calls or meetings. Just peaceful, blissful, silence.

The sofa under you was plush and soft, the TV a low hum in the background of your thoughts. You'd sprawled out around an hour ago, changing out of the cute pink outfit Steve had chosen and into one of the many silk robes that lined your closet.

“There you are, Bambi.” Cap’s voice was rough, he'd been berating the lower ranks of the crew earlier for some dispute about territory and he looked wrung out by the whole thing. “Been looking for you.”

“Sorry-” you began to scramble back up from your prone position but he motioned for you to lie back down, picking up your feet and placing them in his lap.

“No, baby, you lay down, it's been a lot, hasn't it, meeting everyone.”

You nodded, looking up at him with wide eyes. He’d taken off his black suit jacket and rolled his sleeves up. His tie was undone, hanging around his undone collar, and his dirty blonde hair was ruffled, pushed back from his forehead. He looked wonderful, his large hands encompassing your feet and squeezing gently, rubbing the sore arches.

“You've been such a good girl, let me take care of you.” Closing your eyes you let Steve rub his calloused hands over your feet and up your thighs, massaging the tight muscle and brushing dangerously close to the hem of your panties.

“So this is where you're hiding,” Bucky chided from the open doorway. Behind in the evening light spilled through the tall windows, casting him into shadow.

You tried to sit again, but Steve patted the top of your thigh, “stay.”

Bucky gave you an indulgent smile and kissed your forehead before sitting down as well, lifting your shoulders and laying your head on his thigh.

“You did so well today, baby, so good for us.” He praised, resting his arm over your shoulder and stroking his thumb down your cheek.

“Thank you, Sarge.” You felt the hard line of his cock twitch under his black suit trousers, the zipper pressing up briefly.

“Such a sweet girl,” Steve agreed, his hands working up your thighs again, his thumbs brushing the gusset of your lacey panties.

“Going sweet on us now aren’t you?” Bucky slid his thumb over your lips and into your waiting mouth.

His thumb was warm and heavy, pressing down gently on your tongue as you laved at his fingerprint. Bucky’s hand was so large that he could cradle your face, covering your ear and protecting you from the slightest noise. It was so safe, under his care, that you closed your eyes and began to suck absentmindedly, humming gently and leaning into his touch.

“There you go, Bambi - so sweet - happy?” He asked, his voice low and rumbling, you could feel each word running through your body from the plain of his chest where the back of your head rested, to the soles of your feet in Steve’s hands. “Need you to do something for me now.”

You nuzzled deeper into his lap, his cock now straining against the zip of his trousers, and your squeezed your thighs together around Steve’s hand, contemplating his next request. “Anything, Sarge.”

Bucky’s head fell to the back of the sofa with a soft thump and his tattooed left hand came into view. For a moment you pulled back, hoping to lick at the colours and patterned inked into his skin, the twirl of flowers, the patterns, the dates, you wanted to worship him. But he tucked his hand behind your head and tugged down his zipper instead.

“Sit up, sweetheart.” Steve picked you up gently and you watched, rapt, as Bucky’s cock sprang free. He was already rock hard, his head a deep red and you thought of cherry ice lollies, your mouth watering.

Between them, Bucky and Steve lowered you back into his lap, his open fly revealing his toned abdomen and his adonis belt pointing down to his delicious looking dick. Without thinking you licked a bold stripe from the base to the tip, dipping your tongue into his slit and moaning with delight when the salty tang of his precum hit your tongue.

“Fuck, Bambi, how’d we get so lucky with you? Perfect little cockslut, that’s right -” his left hand cupped the back of your head, guiding you further onto his cock, “open that tight little throat and let me keep my cock just - ugh -here.” You settled, mouth full and nose brushing against his abdomen, and whined. The noise vibrated through him and he thrust up slightly, hitting the back of your throat. You gagged, pulling back, but he kept his hand firm guiding you back down. “Shh, settle there, good girl, just open your throat and clear your mind.”

So you did, slowing your breathing and letting his cock sit heavy on your tongue and that safe, kept, feeling washed over you.

#bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes/you #bucky barnes x you #Mafia AU #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky x you #steve rogers fanfiction #Mob Rules

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m4tthewmurd0ck · 8 months

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COMING SOON!!!

Mob!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Ballerina Reader

(I do my best to be as non-descriptive as possible, but I do use she / her and mention that reader is a ballerina)

Inspired by the question: Have you ever tried to eat at a restaurant, which happened to be a mafia / mob front, but you didn’t know that, and everyone inside just stared as you walked in because nobody actually eats there?

I FINALLY decided what I want my first piece back to be and I’m so excited shdiznejfns it’s very funny if I do say so myself. Once I got the idea I rushed and typed it on my phone and I already KNOW there are so many spelling errors because I have auto correct turned off and right now it looks like shit hahdndisfn. BUUUUT I just need to give it a quick read through / fix errors on my laptop and we’ll be good to go! Full preview below the cut :)

It had been Bucky’s idea to name the restaurant Tony’s. After their dear friend who had given his life in a war that should’ve never been fought.

It had been Peter’s idea to ‘open a restaurant’. He pointed out that it would be the perfect realistic cover, though Steve argued that they didn’t really need one. Everyone in Brooklyn and the neighboring cities knew who they were, why did they need to put up any sort of front?

In the end, Bucky sided with Peter. They needed a place to talk shop and handle business, and it had to be somewhere that the outside wouldn’t attract any trouble (aka law enforcement). A warehouse was too obvious and was practically begging to be raided. He agreed with Steve, though, in that everyone knew who they were and what their business really was. He pointed out that it was actually a good thing. It would be pretty obvious that the restaurant wasn’t a restaurant, and they wouldn’t attract actual customers. But they’d make it legit, so that they couldn’t be shut down. Like Peter said, they needed a realistic cover.

Within a month, Tony’s was up and running. Running, as in the lights were on during what would be deemed normal business hours. The door was kept locked, but that didn’t matter because as Bucky predicted, no one tried to actually eat there.

Until one day when rehearsal ran nearly 2 hours late. You were tired, exhausted mentally and physically, and you just wanted some comfort food before heading back to your apartment to enjoy the next 2 days off. Still somewhat new to the city, you decided to get off of the subway one stop earlier, and find a restaurant on your way home.

Luckily for you, a neon sign reading TONY’S caught your eye. Unbeknownst to you, there was a meeting going on inside, and someone had forgotten to lock the front entrance.

As you pushed the door open, you had no idea the events that were about to unfold.

💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫💫

IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE TAGGED WHEN I POST FOR BUCKY, LET ME KNOW!!

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sarahowritesostucky · 5 days

Text

Happy Little Family

📖"Taking Back What's His"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6170

Tags: dark!Bucky, mafia/mob au, dubcon/noncon, a/b/o, threats and coercion, rape, forced pregnancy, forced domestic "bliss", yandere, kid fic

Summary: You thought you'd left behind the man who turned out to be more dangerous than you'd ever imagined. But one day he walks back into your life and reminds you that, come hell or high water, you're all going to be one happy. little. family.

This chapter: You try one last, desperate ploy to escape, but it doesn't exactly work out. And James hasn't come alone. The next time you wake up, you're a long way from home.

Nickname Dictionary: vorishka = "little thief" mamochka = "mommy/little mother" kotenok= "kitty/kitten" omegya = (made up) Russian spelling of omega omegechka = (made up) "little omega" krasotka = "Pretty(n.)/pretty one" pchelka = "little bee"

2. Taking Back What's His

(Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!)

He says something to you, after. Words that might as well be in his native Russian, for how well you take them in. But they're soft, and reassuring—he’s pleased. His body weight moves off the bed.

When you finally open your eyes and blink up at the ceiling, it’s the softest baby pink all around the edges, like smoke curling into your vision. It’s nice, peaceful. Feels good-all-over in that way that painkillers do. You haven’t experienced it since the last time you had sex with an alpha.

Which James unfortunately seems to have figured out was with him, almost two years ago.

“Oh, kotenok, You haven’t been fucking anybody.”

You’re still in the afterglow, mind muzzy, all of your previous panic and fear blunted near to the point of erasure with how nice it feels to float, when you hear James’ pleased chuckle from where he’s getting dressed. He comes back and leans over you. “Hey Sweetheart. Feeling good?”

You frown at him, though it takes a concerted effort to make any expression of displeasure. You want him to know you aren’t happy, that this state he’s fucked you into isn’t real. You want to slap that smug fucking look right off his face. All you manage to come up with is a pouty little “no" that makes James laugh.

“Come here.” He fixes your dress, then helps you up off the bed. He seems to be checking to make sure you’re steady on your feet before he lets you stand on your own. “You good?”

“M’fine.” He knows you too well, knows how intense it can be for you, how strongly you react to him. You avoid his knowing gaze. You’re not completely useless like this. You can still remember everything that’s going on, can still remember June. “Please,” you say again, trying to change the tone of your voice. “Let me give her to Hilde.”

James rolls his eyes. “Right, right. Your friend across the street.”

“Please James?” You look up at him, pink edges all around his face, so pretty. Goddamn him. “She’ll be safe there.”

Again, something passes through his eyes too quickly for you to identify. It might be annoyance. He sighs, and the look, whatever it was, is gone. “Sure thing, Doll. Babies need a lot of stuff. You might as well pack up what she needs.”

You nod tearfully, going to your closet to grab a bag. He follows close behind, sending a clear message that he’s not planning on letting you out of his sights while you do this. James isn’t stupid, you’ll give him that.

In the nursery, June is happy to see you and wants you to pick her up. You talk to her in a sweet, placating voice as you go around the room grabbing different things that she’ll need and stuffing them in the bag. At this point you know to be grateful for the haze. Even as it tapers off, it’s blunting the sorrow that you know would otherwise have you sobbing and your voice clogging with tears. This way at least, you’re able to keep June thinking everything is alright. This way she isn’t scared.

It’s when you’re crouched beside the changing table, stuffing diapers into the bag with James behind you that you get the idea: Downstairs: the kitchen: in the drawer. Your gun.

You stop moving long enough that James notices. “What’re you doing? Come on.”

You stand back up. Yes. You have to do it. This is the only chance you have at getting out of this and not losing June. You lick your lips nervously before turning back around to face him. “I … have to get her bottles and stuff from downstairs,” you say, hoping that the lingering post-coital haze is enough to keep your true intentions off your face. Your eyes flick up to James, who’s squinting at your tits.

��Bottle?” He starts to smirk, and you glare at him.

“Yes. Asshole. I won’t exactly be around to feed her, now will I?”

His face softens at that and he gives you an apologetic look. “Right. Well go on, then.”

You move for the hallway, realize he’s not following you, and turn back in confusion. He’s beside the crib, holding his hand out for June to touch. Your heart leaps from your spot in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

He arches an eyebrow. “I’m waiting right here until you come back upstairs,” he says, his message clear.

Your pulse picks up, but you force yourself to nod. You’re useless without that gun. You have to get to it. He narrows his eyes at you while June giggles and reaches for his wiggling fingers. “No games.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, and turn and head for the stairs.

It’s pure torture to move at a casual speed, especially as your mind is clearing and the fearful emotions returning. In the downstairs hallway, you check once over your shoulder that James hasn’t followed you, then pick up your pace, hurrying into the kitchen and heading straight for the drawer where you keep the gun.

Your eyes tear up as you maneuver past the digital lock that you installed for nothing. June’s still crawling. She never even got old enough to toddle over here. You press the code into the keypad, cringing when it does its quiet little two-tone ‘beep’ at being unlocked. You wait, heart in your throat until you hear the mechanism moving, then rip open the drawer.

Your heart stops and your brain freezes and all you can think is: No. No, no no—

“Looking for this?”

You whirl around, and there he is: standing on the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the sink as he holds your only weapon in his hands.

His face is relaxed, Goddamn him, as he pretends to ignore your horror and instead holds the gun up to flippantly inspect it. “I have to say, Doll, I’m impressed. I would’ve expected some puny girl gun. Ruger, Derringer. But this?” He turns the Skorpion in his hands, and chuckles softly when he sees the cartridge. “Jesus. You really wanted to blow a hole in somebody, didn’t you?” His eyes finally drag up to you, the hand he’s holding the gun with dropping down by his side as he starts walking over, slowly, step by step, eyes boring into you with a growing anger.

Oh shit. Dread curls in your gut but you’re frozen. Bolting now wouldn’t even get you to the staircase. He presses in close, pinning you against the countertop. He brings the gun up and nudges your jaw with it, leaning in and breathing in your face, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find it, vorishka?”[little thief]

He’s taunting you with your own failure, and you can’t stop the whimper that breaks from your throat at having your one and only plan foiled so pathetically easily. “James,” you plead, “I didn’t—”

“Shh sh sh. None of that, now.” He’s speaking softly, sweetly, but he’s furious. He drags his lips over your cheek and the barrel of the gun you stole from him over the other. “So what was the plan? How were you going to kill me with my own gun? Pop upstairs and shoot up the nursery?”

“N-no.”

“Ah. Right. You’re smarter than that. You would’ve waited for me to come down and see what the fuck was taking you so long, or put it in the duffle and waited until we dropped the whelp off at the neighbors. Is that it?"

You sniffle and nod, angry at him for being such an all-knowing asshole. “You can’t hold that against me,” you say, trying to defend yourself.

He nods thoughtfully. “Hmm. Yes, I suppose you’re right. I can’t blame you for that.” Your shoulders start to relax, that is until he pulls back to glare at you and holds the gun to you again, this time pointing it right underneath your chin. He looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “But do you know what I can hold against you, Little thief?” Your face pinches in fear, sure that you’re about to be shot, and he digs the muzzle cruelly into your skin, forcing you to look at him. “The fact that that pup up there is ten months old, and I’ve never even fucking seen her.”

Your eyes widen as you realize: he knows. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but he beats you to it.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to tell she’s mine?”

“James,”

“All this time!” he hisses, hurt lancing through his features. “You kept her from me! What gives you the right?”

“I—I didn’t—”

He growls and pushes away from you, several steps back, glaring. “Nothing, is the answer you’re looking for. You had no right to do that.”

You try to edge to the side, but freeze when he straightens his arm and points the gun right at you. “James, wait …”

He aims it at your face, but then lowers it for a center mass shot, which is what really convinces you you’re about to die. “Say goodbye, mamochka,” he says, with steely eyes and his finger curling over the trigger.

It’s a submachine gun that fires in three shot bursts, or fully automatic. Either way, you know you’re about to be riddled with bullets, so you start to hyperventilate. It’s an embarrassing reaction, but at least you have the dignity of knowing what your last words on this earth would’ve been. “Don’t hurt her,” you gasp.

His eyes fill with rage and he pulls the trigger.

… Nothing happens, but you’re bracing so hard that it takes you a full two or three seconds to realize it. Then, when you do realize it, and you see James standing there looking grim but completely unsurprised that you haven’t been shot, all of the breath rushes out of your lungs. You feel like you’re about to faint, which is apparently what he’s waiting for.

He ejects the empty magazine, shaking his head in disbelief. “You really thought I’d do it, didn’t you?” He takes a step forward, but pauses when you flinch back. “What the hell have you convinced yourself that I am?”

You step back again when he moves. “Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t.”

“Don’t, don’t,” he whispers, mocking you. “Don’t what? Don’t take back what’s mine? The mother of my pup? A pup I didn’t get to see grow or come into this world?” Your breath hitches with emotion and he doesn’t miss it, the bastard. “Yeah,” he says darkly. “You robbed me of that. But I’ll get over it, don’t worry.” He leers up and down your body in its flimsy sundress. “I’ll be putting another one in you real soon.”

You see red. Fury sweeps through you and stings your eyes, roars in your ears. You grab the nearest thing to you, which is the edge of the utensils crock on the counter. It spills over and your hand closes around the handle of the meat mallet. You cry out and swing at him, wanting to smash his smug fucking face to smithereens.

“Woah-ho, easy there.” He laughs and takes a surprised step back, as though you’re nothing but a tantruming child. “Stop being so dramatic.”

You growl and lunge for him again, but cut off in a shriek as someone suddenly grabs you from behind. The meat mallet clatters to the floor as you’re hauled back against the hard body of another man. One big arm wraps around your middle, and the other holds a cloth up at your face, pressing it over your mouth. “Mmph!” you yell out, muffled, and get a huge inhale of chlorine-like smell into your lungs for your trouble. You hold your breath and thrash, but it’s less than useless. The person holding you is large and strong. When you try to headbutt him, it doesn't even clip his chin. You bring your hands up to try and claw at the hand holding the cloth over your mouth, but your nails meet metal instead of skin, and you gasp in another inhale of chemicals as you realize who it is. “Mmph!”

James steps up close, smirking fondly as he watches you fighting the urge to inhale. Eventually he tuts and reaches up to cup your cheek. “Shhh, omegechka. Stop. Stop fighting now. It’s all over.”

“Nngh!”

“Just take a deep breath and go to sleep. Everything’ll be alright, I promise. Just relax.” You whimper as you feel yourself running out of air, knowing that your body’s going to force you to draw breath in a second. James leans in and kisses your forehead tenderly. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers, just as your vision starts to fade out, “or our daughter.”

The smell of professionally scented, circulating air hits you first, and then the taste of old pennies in your mouth. Then, a gradually increasing sense of awareness of your body in space and time. At first you think you're somewhere very bright, as colors and rainbows dance through your lashes, but the more you blink your eyes open, the more the brightness fades and your vision comes into focus.

And there he is: holding a crystal tumbler and looking like he's been waiting for you to come round. "Well hello there, Sleepyhead,” he says. “Welcome back." He takes a sip of whatever it is he’s drinking, the ice cubes clinking softly against the sides of the glass. He looks totally relaxed.

You sit up straighter in the seat where you’d been slumped, moving your tongue around inside of your dry mouth and trying to remember what happened. And then reality hits you in waves, each one more devastating than the last:

James—He found you.

June—She's not there.

"How're you feeling? Thirsty?"

You blink, dazed, a few lingering specks still floating at the edges of your vision. You look around the room you’re in, clocking your surroundings. Windows, cabin—Shit. You're already on a plane. Pressure builds rapidly at the backs of your eyes as you fight not to cry, thinking of your baby girl left behind, never getting to see her again.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Bucky’s eyes sharpen on you when your stifled sob breaks out and you throw a hand over your mouth. "Steve,” he says, still watching you in concern. “Get her a bottle of water."

“Sure thing, boss.”

And then the worst realization of all: You look over and see the winter fucking soldier walking down the aisle, holding your baby.

They've got June.

Your eyes widen and you make a distressed little ‘meep’ of a sound. “Steve!” you blurt, and he turns to face you. He looks surprised that you’ve spoken directly to him. He’s not wearing his usual black mask, but he still looks huge and intimidating, and it’s like seeing a wild animal right next to your baby—dangerous, wrong. Your mouth works uselessly as you stare at his hands on June’s body: one supporting her head, and the metal one scooped under her butt. You see her back rise and fall steadily through her bumblebee onesie and you realize that she’s asleep. “I-is she okay?” you ask, heart in your throat.

Steve’s eyes narrow at you, but he nods curtly. “She’s fine.”

Across from you, James scoffs, drawing your attention back to him. “He’s going to put her down. There’s a crib in the back. She’ll be fine,” he says, when he sees you stiffen in protest. “You and I have some catching up to do, vorishka.”

“I thought we did that back in my bedroom,” you snap.

“You still want the water?” Steve asks.

“That’s okay.” Bucky keeps his eyes on you. “I’ll take care of her. You just stay back there with pchelka while she sleeps.”

Steve nods, and you can’t help yourself. “Wait! Please. Please give her to me. Steve?” You sit forward with your arms outstretched, but can only watch helplessly as the other man obeys Bucky and ignores you, disappearing back into the next section of the plane. Bastard never did like you.

“She’ll be fine,” Bucky assures you. “Just sit back and relax. We won’t be in the air for too long.”

You hate it, but you do sit back in the chair. James won’t hurt her. You know that. Especially now that you know he knows. You look around the cabin, taking in the wide, leather seats and gleaming wood finishes. There’s a couch, tv, a bar. A fucking electric fireplace. It's the sort of luxury you used to go starry-eyed over; incredibly rich men, fat or old or ugly, tripping all over themselves to spoil you.

… Only, James was never any of those things.

“This is your plane?” you ask, dragging your hand over the arm of your seat.

James smirks. “What? You thought I’d kidnap you and then fly commercial?”

You purse your lips at his joke. “I guess not.” You relax back, trying to get your bearings. It is bad news that you’re already on a plane with him. You’ll be landing at his private airstrip at the Siberia compound, which gives you no middle ground to run. You bite your lip as your thoughts race and you try to think of anything you might be able to do once you get to—

“Stop it,” James says quietly, drawing your attention back to him. He’s giving you a stern look. “You barely got away before, and that was on your own. Now we’ve got our daughter. Anything you try will put her in unnecessary danger and you know that.” He shakes his head, some of that sadness from before creeping back into his eyes. “You’re not leaving me again, omegechka.”

“I’m not?” you echo, stuck in place by his stare, by the memories you share with him, and the fear you have of what he’s planning for your punishment. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m just taking back what’s mine, Sweetheart. You do realize that?” You fail to answer him and his gaze hardens just a little bit. “That’s okay. You’ll see it eventually. This isn’t a bad thing. If you had just stuck around a little longer instead of lying to me and running off, then you would’ve seen it before, and we wouldn’t have to be going through this right now.” He raises his drink to you in a little salute. “You, me, and pchelka? We’re going to be a family.”

You don’t refuse the water he gives you, or the drink that he mixes for you, after. If James wanted to keep you drugged up until reaching Siberia, he certainly could’ve done so without allowing you to wake up on the plane. You’re only conscious right now because he wants you to be. And because you know that, you don’t protest the drink he prepares for you over at the bar. To be honest, a stiff one actually sounds really good right about now.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he hands it over, still unmoored by this drastic shift in circumstances. A few hours ago you’d been safe in your cottage, then suddenly you weren’t. One minute you’re sure you’re about to get a bullet in the face from this man, and the next, he’s got you sipping thousand dollar vodka on his private jet, calmly explaining how he intends to keep you and force you into some twisted form of domestic bliss.

“I had a whole renovation done for her,” he tells you. “Pchelka will have plenty of room to play and grow.”

You frown, hating the idea of your daughter growing up in that cold, Siberian fortress. You don’t care if he’s bought her an indoor waterslide and a herd of ponies. It’s no place for a child. “What does that mean?” you ask grumpily. “That word: chelk—? You keep using it. You can’t just rename my daughter.”

Hurt flashes in his eyes, but he wipes it away fast. “Pchelka means little bee. The outfit you put her in has bees on it.”

“Oh … Right.” You love that set. It’d been another gift at the shower, from Hilde.

“And she’s my daughter too,” James says tightly.

You gulp at the bitterness in his tone, at his eyes boring into you with reproach. It’s silly, but you do feel bad about hurting him in this one way, at least. “Her name is June,” you offer quietly.

His face draws tight with emotion that’s impossible for you to decipher. Mostly you just sense hurt coming off of him, tingeing his scent and making it into something mournful and awful. He stares at you for a long time. “You made me think you’d lost it,” he eventually whispers. “How could you do that to me?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not. You’re just sorry that I found you.”

“I saw you kill people, James!” you cry. “I saw who you really are. I couldn’t stay. Not after that.”

His mouth ticks up at the corners. “Oh, Sweetheart. You’ve got no idea who I am, or what I’ve done for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes gleam and he lifts his drink, tipping back the last of it. “Do you even remember where we met?”

You frown. “Of course.” You’d met him on a yacht, off the coast of Greece. At a party you’d been paid to attend as one of a flock of similarly hired ‘pretty girls’. Five hundred bucks just to sit around and drink cocktails for a few hours and make whoever owned the yacht look like a successful playboy. James had taken one look at you and made it his mission to charm you off of that boat with him. And you’d fallen for it, hook line and sinker. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You don’t know as much as you think you do,” he says disdainfully. “Don’t know how lucky you really are. I saved you.”

You scoff. “You’re no different from those boat guys. You think you’re so special, God’s gift to omegas, I get it.”

“No,” he grits. “You really don’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I don’t know! I know what I saw. All over the floor of your goddamn office. I slipped in it for Christ’s sake!”

“Right, right. The men you saw me kill,” he says, referencing the scene you’d walked in on just before you’d faked your miscarriage and fled. “You were eavesdropping outside the door, weren’t you, Little thief?”

You jut your chin out. “Yes. So what?”

“You know, I’d always assumed you heard the entire conversation. Now I realize I was wrong.”

“What?”

He laughs under his breath—at your expense, you suspect. “Who exactly do you think they were?”

“Your business associates. The same sort of underworld, black market scum as you. Only they didn't work for you. You screwed them over and they were there to collect what you owed them, and you murdered them instead.”

James scoffs and smiles angrily, sticking his tongue into his cheek as he looks away in frustration. "Figures," he mutters.

“What?” you snap. “You’re gonna deny it?”

“I’m not denying anything. But I killed them for you.”

“Oh please. Just stop it. Stop lying! I know what you do for work.”

Granted, you'd been a little slow on the uptake back then, too enamored and swept up in the whirlwind romance with your first Alpha that you hadn’t ever stopped to wonder where his money came from, or where it was he jetted off to “on business” every few days. It’d taken a year for you to piece it together, to see the true magnitude of the enterprise he ran, and how dark it really was.

Sitting in front of you now, he doesn’t deny it, which only bolsters your disdain for him. “I don’t want that in my life,” you hiss. “Arms dealing, drugs, smuggling, mercenaries. And apparently human trafficking as well.”

His eyes flash. “They don’t call it that, you know. It’s called the ‘skin trade’.”

“I don’t care.”

He gets up to go pour himself another drink at the bar. “Right,” he snaps, like you’re an idiot. “You’re so fucking naïve, krasotka [pretty (n.)]. So convinced that I’m the devil. But you have no idea how much worse it could’ve been for you.”

“You threatened to sell your own daughter before you figured out she was yours!”

Refusing to be provoked, he returns to stand right in front of you, forcing you to look up at him towering over you. “I knew she was mine from the second I walked in that house,” he says, making your breath catch.

“How?”

He smiles nastily and takes a sip from his drink, then sets it aside. He leans over you with his hands on the back of your seat, caging you in. You can smell the expensive alcohol on his breath as he gets in your face and tells you, “I put that baby in you, moya omegya. She’s a part of me. You think I wouldn’t be able to figure that out? Think an Alpha doesn’t know the scent of his own flesh and blood?”

You tense, fighting not to shrink away. “You’re making that up.”

He chuckles lowly and puts his face right next to yours, cheek to cheek, savoring your reaction. “Sweetheart,” he purrs, “I may not have forced a mating bite on you back then like I should have, but there are other ways to leave your mark on someone.” He dips in to kiss your neck, right over your unbitten glands. “I found you by your scent,” he whispers. “Sniffed you out.”

You shiver at his hot breath on your skin and the deadly soft tone of his voice. The way your body responds to him isn’t anything you can control, and he knows that, but it still makes you flush with embarrassment when he takes a deep inhale in the bend of your neck and hums with satisfaction when he smells the effect he’s had on you. “I wouldn’t have sold her anyway,” he tells you, pulling back and picking up his drink. “I want you to know that. I don’t participate in the skin trade.”

You swallow thickly, watching him watch you as he waits for you to react to him in some way. You don’t know why you believe him about this one thing, but you do. “But you’re aware of it,” you say. “You know it happens, and you don’t do anything to stop it.”

His jaw works in frustration. “I’ve interfered a time or two, when I could get away with it.”

“Well, aren't you a hero.”

“I didn’t say that,” he snaps. “I said I’ve done what little I could. These men make a lot of money dealing in omegas, and they don’t take kindly to being stolen from.”

“I can imagine.”

“No,” he mutters into his drink. “You really can’t.”

There’s something oddly bitter in his tone, like he's working hard not to tell you something. You bite your lip and watch him for a minute. “... How much?” you ask.

“What?” His eyes darken when he figures out what you’re asking. “No.”

“Tell me.”

“It depends,” he grits, glaring at you. "Now cut it out."

Sober, you might have; but half a vodka spritzer after nineteen months of no alcohol has you bolder than you usually would be. You look down at yourself, feigning flippancy. “Well what about me? How much would I go for?”

“Kotenok,” he warns lowly, growling when you continue to press him with a snotty little,

“Come on, I thought you were such a dangerous criminal? You can’t even discuss a little human trafficking with the weak omega you just trafficked?”

He probably knows you’re trying to antagonize him, but he still rises to the bait. He sits back and lets his eyes drag over your body in a way that makes your pulse pick up. “Well,” he drawls, “you just had a baby. So that’s less right there.” Your nostrils flare angrily and he gives you a look. “You’re the one who asked,” he reminds, waiting until you give him a nod to continue. He gives you another onceover, this time lingering in certain places longer, a softer look in his eyes for the softer parts of your body. He almost seems to get distracted. He catches himself overindulging and looks away, like it’s hurting him to consider you this way. “Most people want their omegas untouched,” he says quietly. “Especially if the buyer's alpha, which they usually are. It’s an instinctual thing for us. We’re very driven to possess. We don’t like to share.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” you mutter.

His gaze snaps back to you, a painful amount of familiarity in his eyes. “You’dve been a couple million, back when we first met.”

Your eyes widen. You weren't expecting that. “But … I wasn’t even a virgin.”

He arches an eyebrow. “I said untouched, not virginal. Not in that way. Alpha buyers want unbonded and never bred, first and foremost.” He leers at you. “Not that there aren’t some who’ll pay a little extra to pop a girl’s cherry. But that’s not the main thing they’re looking for, when they buy.”

You scowl. “Right. So I guess I’m damaged goods now."

“Oh no, mamochka,” he says seriously. “You’ve only gone up in value in my eyes. Though believe me when I say I’m more than happy to contribute to the depletion of your market value." He raises his glass to his lips, looking darkly pleased. “You’re not for sale, and you never will be. You’re mine.”

You're embarrassed to be the one to break eye contact first, but you can’t keep listening to him talk about how much he likes you and watching him look at you like you’re his most prized possession. With any other man you’d just be disgusted, but James has always had a knack for getting you flustered, and he knows it. There’s always been an inexplicable pull between the two of you, and he knows that, too. It’s the main reason why you've always refused his attempts to bond you. You're terrified of what it’ll be like after, since you already know how pathetically helpless you are around him without a bond.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you mumble quietly. “Where is it?”

“Just down there.” He nods in the direction behind you, opposite from where Steve had gone with June.

You press your lips together and get up without looking at him, but you can feel his eyes on you the entire time you’re walking away.

“Don’t take too long in there, kotenok,” he purrs from back in his seat. “Or I’ll have to come in after you.”

In the bathroom, you splash water on your face and lean against the sink, looking at the girl staring back at you in the mirror. You blink, and she blinks, but it feels like you’re looking at another person, someone you don’t know. She looks fragile. Tired, and dazed. June’s been sleeping through the night for months, but it’s been a hell of a day.

You scrutinize your reflection, smoothing your dress and tucking your hair behind your ears, thinking about how you have zero makeup on. Then you scoff at yourself for caring what you look like in front of him. You think about how much you’ve changed in the seventeen months since you ran away. Not just physically, but mentally. You’ve had to be so strong. For June, for yourself. It’s been awful, and lonely, and you’ve hated yourself for not being able to stop missing him.

You sniffle and splash more water on your face, grumpily thinking that postpartum hormones are so much worse than the pregnancy ones. You grab the towel off the wall, but freeze when you bring it up to pat your face dry and get a smell of it.

Oh.

You whimper, unable to keep from pressing it harder to your mouth and nose and inhaling deeply. It’s James’ scent, and it smells so good. It smells like Safety and Love and Alpha. You hear the sound of your own, needy mewl and you gasp, yanking the towel away from your face and tossing it into the sink, trying to keep your shit together. You brace your hands on the counter and glare at your reflection to tell her to stop it, stop it, stop it, but all it takes is seeing your lower lip quiver, and soon your entire face is collapsing in long-repressed sadness. You turn away from the mirror with a pathetic noise, throat aching from the urge to keen.

Why does this have to be happening?! You’ve tried so hard, for so long. To be strong for June, to get over him, to move on! You bury your face in your hands and choke on a wrenching sob. You know you have to be quiet, have to stop, have to pull yourself together before he—

A soft knock comes from outside the bathroom. “Doll?”

You whine and hastily search for a lock on the door, but there is none, and James hears your crying and pulls the door open. “Honey,” he mourns when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You push past him, hurrying in the direction he isn’t blocking. “Leave me alone!” you cry, hating the blubbering in your voice that makes you sound just as weak as James thinks you are. You arrive in a perfectly made up bedroom with no point of egress other than the one you arrived through. You whine in distress, circle around helplessly, and then throw yourself onto the bed when he arrives at the doorway looking worried. “Leave me alone!” you cry, curling onto your side and pulling one of the pillows down to bury your face in. At least it isn’t suffused with James’ scent. You still cry though, unable to keep it in anymore now that you’ve started.

He tuts sadly from the doorway and comes into the room slowly. He stands there for a long minute, silent, before he sighs and his weight comes onto the bed. “Sweetheart,” he says.

“Just leave me alone,” you whine miserably. “Go away!”

“Shh sh sh.” He curls up behind you, arms around your waist and legs pushing in behind yours. He kisses your shoulder and hugs you, but it only makes you cry harder at how achingly familiar it is. “It’s okay,” he murmurs between kisses. He doesn’t try to get you to stop crying, or ask you what’s wrong. He seems to know exactly why you’re breaking down, and he simply devotes all his efforts to helping you calm down in your own time. “S’okay, s’okay. Everything’s gonna be okay,” he keeps saying, soothing you with a deep rumble in his chest. “I’ve got you, Sweetheart. I’ve got you now. It’s all gonna be okay. Shhh.”

At first, his placating makes you angry, but not enough to stop your crying, and once that tapers off from sobs to quiet, sniffling tears, you can’t seem to dredge up the anger anymore. It isn’t there.

“You feeling a little better?” he asks kindly, gently tucking your hair behind your ear and then hugging you again.

You whine when you feel his lips against your neck. “I’m fine,” you rasp, voice coming out scratchy from all of the crying. You cringe and scrub your face into the pillow in embarrassment. “Just got a little sad.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, giving you a supportive squeeze. “That’s okay.”

You hate how he says it, because it’s obvious that he knows why you were crying: Poor, sad little omega, bawling her eyes out over how much she’s missed her Alpha. He nuzzles into your neck, telling you it’s okay and that you’re allowed to cry. As much as you hate him being able to see into you so easily, you’re just grateful that he isn’t rubbing your face in it right now. The way he's holding you and comforting you feels good. You don’t fight to get away from him.

The two of you lie there together for what feels like a long time. Once you’ve stopped crying and are only giving the occasional sniffle for your runny nose, he goes back to running his hand over your side. It’s a gesture of comfort. He’s not groping you, but even still, you blush at the vulnerability of it. You find yourself glad that you’re facing away from him.

The plane shifts noticeably, and James’ hand pauses on your hip. “Pilot said we’re landing soon,” he murmurs. “Should probably go and get pchelka up.”

You sniffle and fight off the urge of resurfacing tears at hearing him reference June. One day of knowing his daughter and already he’s got a nickname for her. You should be annoyed by that, but instead it just makes your heart squeeze with emotion. “Pchelka,” you whisper, trying out the word.

“Yeah.” He hums happily and kisses your shoulder one last time. “Little bee. Come on. Let’s go.”

You don’t think about how it’s far too soon to have arrived at your destination, until you’re back in the main room of the cabin on the way to where Steve disappeared with June, earlier. You pause at the windows, peering out at the landscape. “This isn’t Russia,” you say, confused. The plane is definitely descending, but you’ve only been in the air for a few hours at most. “James?” you ask, as he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Together, you both look out at the looming mountains and turquoise waters below. “Where are we?” you breathe.

James rests his chin on your shoulder and sighs happily. “Home,” he says. “We’re home.”

A.N.: See? Much less Rapey! Plenty more mega-dub con to come though, so don't you angst-lovers worry. Thanks for reading!💖Sarah

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jtargaryen18 · 7 months

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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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#His Inheritance #Mafia AU #Mob boss!Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Rogers x you #Bucky Barnes #Yelena Belova #Clint Barton

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simmerandwrite · 28 days

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Sink Into Me - 09 - mob!Steve Rogers x plus size!reader

Pairing: mob boss! 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 09

Wordcount: 11k

Warnings: angst, allusions to dog fighting (but no mention of any kind of abuse), smut

Notes: here we go!! I have so much to say but I'll summarize it with a big thank you!! to everyone who read, reblogged and followed along for the journey. y'all made this so much more fun! can't wait to hear your thoughts!! and while this is the end of Sink Into Me, this universe may stick around for a while. a few more notes on this at the end ;) thank you thank you thank you! enjoy!!

“Hi,” you said quietly, meeting his eyes in the low light streaming in from his lamp.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, scanning you for any signs of distress.

You shrugged, taking in a deep breath. Then Steve took a step back, waving his arm to invite you in. You released your lungs slowly, nodding and following him inside. Wordlessly, he climbed into the bed and offered the open blanket to you, arms wide.

You just nodded again, crawling under the comforter and finding a spot - your spot - underneath his arms.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you pulled away from him. A strange empty laugh escaped you.

“I can’t believe… an hour ago… I was being held at gunpoint. That’s crazy. Isn’t that crazy?” The whole thing suddenly hit you like a ton of bricks, all of it. The ambush on your way home, the brute force, the cold rain, the gun.

“Sweetheart..” Steve sat up the same way you did.

You shook your head and shuffled to the side of the bed and planted your feet on the floor, sitting there as you caught your breath.

“Hey, hey. Just breathe, okay?” He scrambled off the bed, coming around the kneel in front of you. With one hand, he reached out and placed it on your knee. You dropped yours onto his and squeezed it. “I’m.. baby, I’m so sorry.”

You closed your eyes, taking in a few deep breaths.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered your name, brushing his thumb against your knee. “I’m sorry for everything. Ever since that day.. On the street, outside the restaurant, just by saving me - you had a target on your back and it’s my fault. I hurt you and put you in danger and it’s my fault.”

The silence washed over you both again.

Steve continued, quieter. “Is there anything I can do or say right now to help you? I know you’re probably scared and I can’t fix that but… your well being, that’s all that matters to me.”

You exhaled and opened your eyes. “I.. I’m hungry.”

Steve blinked. “Uh, okay. Sure. I can order a pizza or we could..” His lips twitched into a brief smile. “How about grilled cheese?”

—

Truthfully, Steve wasn’t always stocked up on the basics but this time he was grateful for what few groceries remained in his fridge. There was a strange silence as you headed to the kitchen. Steve got to work grabbing what he needed for grilled cheese making while you sat at his small dining room table.

Hercules followed you closely, finding a new place to sleep at your feet.

You fiddled with the tag of the tea bag in your cup of chamomile, quiet. The frying pan sizzled.

“Steve?”

Your voice drew his attention away from his task at hand. He turned. “Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the fire? At, uh, your mom’s clinic?”

He stilled then turned back towards the stovetop. He flicked off the element and plated the sandwiches, joining you at the table. He slid a plate across to you.

“I would have, eventually. I didn’t want to scare you,” he finally replied, biting on his lip before he continued. “There was a street gang making a big mess in Brooklyn years ago now. In this type of work, uh, gangs usually coexist. Not always peacefully, of course.”

You took a bite of your sandwich and watched Steve carefully.

“This particular group - called themselves the Red Skulls, led by this absolute menace Johann Schmidt.”

“Oh,” you tipped your head to the side, nodding. “I think I remember hearing about him in the news a few years ago.”

“Probably. They were fucking messy. Schmidt was a piece of work especially. There are a lot of things I do not tolerate in my city and he crossed a very serious line.” Steve rolled his neck. God, maybe he shouldn’t be telling you this. But what did he have to lose now? Honesty was all he had left. “Long story short - we took down one of the Red Skulls trafficking operations. They were kidnapping sex workers.” He took in a sharp breath, eyes closing at the resurfacing memories. “Ma looked after everyone we helped escape and Schmidt retaliated by setting fire to the clinic...”

And Steve had been at some fucking club that night. Volleying between shots of liquor and lines of coke, he nearly missed the most important phone call of his goddamn life.

Steve lost himself in his downward spiral of thoughts as memories of his mother’s recovery flashed through his mind. When he came back to reality, you were looking at him. There was a strange sadness in your eyes.

“That wasn’t your fault, Steve,” you said quietly, tearing off another piece of your sandwich.

He laughed, shaking his head. “The people I care about, the ones I love - you, included now - there is a target on their back, on your back. Forever. I pushed you away and for what? They still..” He dragged both of his hands down his face, head shaking again. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. For.. everything.”

You blinked again, then looked down at your plate. “When you called me and broke up with – that day. What you said to me, it was so careless and..”

“Mean?” Steve finished for you. That’s what you had said. He was mean. No, he had been worse than mean. It was cruel and he had done it on purpose.

“Yeah. Why couldn’t you just be honest? If you care about me so much, how could you say those things?”

He wasn’t sure if he should answer, if he could. But you were looking at him and waiting.

“I don’t know,” he replied quietly, leaning back in his chair and gazing out towards the window. “Because I wasn’t thinking straight. I was emotionally compromised. Natasha barely talked to me for weeks after that night. That was another constant reminder that I really fucked up..”

You sighed. After a few beats, you finally found some words. “What do we do now?”

He looked back at you. “I know I hurt you. I think about it every single fucking day and I can’t undo it, I wish I could undo it.” He took in a hard breath. “I can’t even ask for you to forgive me because it isn’t fair. Not after tonight. Because after all this, how could you ever?” An empty, somber laugh rumbled through him. “I’m just.. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish I could press reset.”

The silence hung between you both again. You finished your sandwich and looked back at Steve.

“I’m tired,” you said softly, stifling a yawn. “Can I.. sleep beside you?”

Steve nodded. “Of course.”

–

You woke up the next morning in Steve’s bed, alone. Somewhere far away, probably in the kitchen, you could hear him on the phone. With a deep sigh, you got up and put yourself back together.

Hercules trotted towards you as you departed from Steve’s room. You followed him back towards the kitchen where Steve had put a modest little breakfast together. He ended his phone call when he saw you, then joined you at the table with a pot of coffee.

Your conversation was minimal. You briefly panicked as you recalled the fake meeting Ward had arranged for you with Hammond, but Steve was quick to tell you he had dealt with it.

Eventually, after your quiet breakfast, you asked to return to your own apartment. Steve insisted on driving you there and walking you to your door. When you got to your building, you noticed an additional security guard posted near the front desk.

You wondered if Steve had something to do with that.

When you got to your door, you opened it and let Hercules in before you turned to Steve.

You didn’t know what to say. You weren’t sure what was supposed to happen now. Truthfully, nothing felt real.

You felt numb.

“Are you gonna be okay here?” Steve asked, tipping his head just slightly to search your face. “If you wanted to stay at a hotel or–”

“No,” you cut him off. “I’ll be fine, I’m sure. I’m just tired. I’m going to take the rest of the day to try and clear my mind.”

“Well, if you need anything at all, call me. Please.”

You hesitated. What were you and Steve now? Friends? Exes? Something more? Something less? You couldn’t figure it out and you were too scared to ask. What did you even want with him?

“Did you unblock my number then?” Your lips twitched into a momentary smile.

Steve didn’t smile back. He was serious and for a second, you watched as he hesitated to reply too. “Of course I did. I never should have..” He closed his eyes. “Call me, anytime. For anything. If something ever feels wrong or someone..” Releasing a long breath, he met your eyes once more. Your name left his lips, quiet, like a whisper. “I can’t figure out what else to say other than that I’m sorry. Again. I just.. I wish I could fix everything and erase what happened last night and.. I’ll be sorry for the rest of my life.”

You squeezed his closest hand. You didn’t know what to say. You raised yourself up slightly onto your toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Then you disappeared into your apartment.

You called your mom that afternoon. And while you didn’t give her any details about what had happened in the last 24 hours of your life, you found it necessary to still call her and tell her how much you loved her. She didn’t ask why you were reaching out or question the way your voice cracked, but you knew she was concerned.

The rest of the day, you slept on and off. Eventually, you ordered in for dinner and forced yourself to sit with the feelings you were wrestling with. What was it? What was going on?

Were you scared? Yes, sure. Even though the incident had been isolated and specific, even though the men responsible were either in custody with law enforcement or being kept directly underneath Steve’s foot, you had reason to feel unsettled.

How could you deal with it though? Enough rational thought brought your heart rate down enough to strategize if anything ever happened again. Pepper spray on keychain, maybe one of those spikey keyrings that doubled as defense weapons.. A self defense class? Maria told you she had taken one before and she found it empowering. Maybe you needed to feel empowered, too.

It was strange though, as you let your mind fester over your feelings, one constant helped keep you steady and walked you back from your edge of anxiety. Steve. When you felt unsafe, Steve had helped you, protected you, saved you.

You didn’t even know what you were to him anymore and yet, he carried on as if you were the most important thing in the world. That helping, protecting, saving you was a responsibility he didn’t take lightly. Steve.. He just.. You just..

Steve. Steve was calling. You shook off your layer of feelings analysis and answered your buzzing phone, sitting up on the couch as you brought it to your ear. It was late.

“Hello?”

“Hey.. thanks for.. I wanted to check in, see how you’re doing. If I’m overstepping, feel free to hang up on me, though.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “You’re not overstepping.” You’re being Steve. “I’m okay, yeah. Calm and mostly relaxed. I’m..”

“I’m glad to hear that.” He paused and you swore you could hear him overthinking what to say next. “Would you tell me the truth though? If you weren’t.. Okay?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “I would.”

“I appreciate that, really. I know you don’t owe me anything but I’m worried.”

You smiled to yourself. “I’m okay.” You knew repeating it may not reassure him, but it helped you. “Oh, actually. I was thinking about something.. Uhm, when they..” You breathed in slowly. “When they took Hercules, they mentioned some weird threat about him fighting. Is that.. Does that mean they.. That there is a dog fighting, uhm, thing or..” You couldn’t even bear to finish what you were thinking.

“Bucky is already investigating, sweetheart. If that exists, we’re going to stop it. I promise you.”

–––

The next evening, Steve called again. To check in and make sure you were still okay. It was funny - because you had a feeling that his phone calls weren’t the only thing Steve had implemented when it came to ensuring your wellbeing. A new lock system had been installed at the front of your building and that same security guard was patrolling when you left for work that morning too.

The next night he called to see how you were. Then the next and the next and the next.

One night, after you told Steve that you were okay, again, you felt an urge to keep him on the line. For some reason, your conversation started to feel like they used to when you first met - friendly, but a hint of something else, something more. But did you want that? Did he?

“While I have you, though. I was wondering if I had to ask Clint for permission if I wanted to paint my apartment - do you know? Or is it like free reign?”

Steve laughed on his side of the phone. “I can get Clint to find you a painter tomorrow, if you want.”

“Oh, no.” You dismissed that idea quickly. “I want to do it myself. I think it would be fun.”

“Well then, since it’s my building, consider this your permission to paint whatever you want. And if you need some extra hands, I’d be happy to help.”

–––

A week later, you answered another late call from Steve.

“It’s late, I can let you go. I’m sure Hercules is already asleep beside the bed waiting for you..”

You smiled to yourself briefly, then sighed. “I’ve been in bed for a while, actually.”

“Oh.” You heard Steve pause. “You didn’t have to take my call.”

“I can’t sleep tonight.”

He paused again. His voice was slower this time, softer. “Is something wrong?”

“No, I just..” It was probably just the late day coffee you had or the tight stress you were holding in your body. “..can’t sleep, I guess.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Maybe you could.. I don’t know, just talk a bit. Tell me a story? From your childhood or high school or something?” You stifled a yawn. “Anything..”

After another beat, Steve’s voice returned in your ear. “Okay. Let’s see. Technically I’m forbidden to share this story but me and Buck had to take a theater class in high school and..”

–––

Steve called you pretty early one night, just as you were coming home from picking up Hercules.

You dropped onto your couch and quickly pulled on the nearest throw blanket the moment you walked into the apartment. When you noticed Steve on the caller ID, you answered right away.

“Hi,” you said through a yawn, laying flat on the cushions. It sounded like Steve sighed in relief on the other end of the phone. “Steve? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Hey sweetheart,” he continued quickly. Damn. When he slipped in the sweetheart pet name, your heart got really confused. “Just nice to hear your voice.”

“Are you okay?” You repeated the question, sitting up from your lounging position.

“I am,” he confirmed. “There’s just something I need to tell you, before you hear about it on the news.”

“Okay..”

“Rumlow - Brock Rumlow.. You remember him?” Before you could answer, Steve laughed. “That’s a stupid question. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten Rumlow.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Steve’s commentary. “No, I haven’t forgotten Brock Rumlow.” Your momentary elation soon disappeared when you considered why Steve might be mentioning Rumlow by name. “What about him?”

“He died today.”

A silence fell between you. “In prison?”

“Yes. Considering how high profile his arrest was, it will likely make the evening news. Maybe it’s already published, I don’t know. I just wanted to warn you before you heard.”

“Okay.” You paused again. “Steve - did you–”

“This had nothing to do with me, surprisingly.” He let out some weird exaggerated laugh again. “I wasn’t his only enemy.” That was Steve choosing what to say and you supposed that was fine. The nitty gritty details really weren’t needed. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

Even though he couldn’t see you, you shrugged, laying back down. “I don’t know, I guess I’m just.. it’s weird to say relieved but..I shouldn’t feel relief over someone’s death, right? Maybe I don’t know how to react.”

“That’s normal, I’d say.” He paused. “I don’t want you to be scared.”

“I do get scared. I think about that night a lot.” You sighed. “But I’ve lived in New York long enough to know that the weird person on the subway probably doesn’t give a shit about me, so I shouldn’t be worried about them.”

“What weird person on the subway?” Steve asked quickly. You could hear him shuffling, maybe going from sitting to standing. “Where did you see–”

“Steve.” You cut him off, with a quiet laugh. “That was hypothetical. I’ve been alright lately, I promise. And remember, I said I would tell you if I wasn’t.”

You heard him let out a long sigh. “Okay.”

“Thank you for calling me and giving me a heads up though,” you continued. “Maybe I’ll mute my news feeds for a few days.”

–––

You [7:01PM]: what do you think? It has taken a few weeks from start to finish but…

You [7:01PM]: (IMG_9116) S Rogers [7:02PM]: that’s a great colour S Rogers [7:03PM]: so. what was the ratio of paint on wall vs paint on you? You [7:03PM]: wow! Rude. You [7:03PM]: 90/10 You [7:04PM]: (IMG_9121) S Rogers [7:06PM]: very cute S Rogers [7:06PM]: even with paint in your hair ;)

–––

Thanksgiving wasn’t your favourite holiday. The food was fine and sure, it was a great excuse for some time off work.

Into adulthood, you were really appreciative of the friendsgiving tradition instead. Especially because your mother was spending the holiday in Jacksonville with her cousin, leaving you mostly without plans for the big day.

Friendsgiving you took seriously. Claire was hosting this year, the weekend before Thanksgiving since she had to work on the holiday, and you had been tasked with dessert making, which was totally up your alley. Maria had offered assistance, so together you were spending your Friday night making the most out of your oven and counter space.

It was going well, although you had started a lot later than planned. It made for a late night but you were in good company with Maria. Having a night in with one of your closest friends wasn’t something you took for granted. Between flour measurements and preparing fruit, you and Maria spent the entire night talking. It was exactly what you needed.

Just before midnight, you were taking the pecan pie out of the oven and Maria was finishing off the dishes. Just as you turned to join her at the sink, a loud banging started at your door. You gasped, probably too loudly for a sane person, and met Maria’s wide confused stare.

Hercules awoke from his bed in your room and trotted towards the door, cautious.

You walked over behind him, holding your breath as another knock echoed.

“Jesus, Barnes - you’re going to scare her to death..”

Barnes? Was that.. Clint’s voice?

Maria followed behind you, pausing as you looked through the peephole.

“Who is knocking on your door at midnight?” Maria asked quietly.

You sighed. Bucky and Clint, apparently. What on earth?

After unlocking the door, you opened it, stopping the bickering men in the middle of their conversation.

“Hello?” You returned their awkward greetings with a small wave. “Can I help you?”

“What is that smell?” Clint’s eyes widened, looking over your shoulder into the apartment. “Are you baking?”

“Can I help you?” You repeated, turning your attention to Bucky directly. “What are you doing here?”

Bucky let out a breath before dragging a hand down his jaw. “So, here’s the thing, doll. My good friend Steve - you know Steve, right? He’s currently spiraling because you haven’t answered your phone or any of his messages all night..” He stood up a bit straighter, looking between you and Maria. “Given the uh..well, he’s just worried about you. Sent us up to check in.. And, since you are clearly very alive and safe, we should..” He paused. “Do I smell snickerdoodles?”

“Oh my god,” you rolled your eyes, inviting the men inside. Maria grabbed the container of fresh cookies and offered them each one.

“If Steve is concerned, why isn’t he at the door?” Maria wondered out loud.

“Boundaries,” Clint answered with a mouth full of cookies.

Bucky thwacked him on the shoulder. “Manners, Barton.” Bucky waited to bite his own cookie, then nodded. “He’s politely keeping his distance.”

You sighed, then looked over at Maria. You had filled your friend in on most of the details about you and Steve and what your recent reconnection looked like. Minus the whole warehouse rooftop situation. You weren’t sure how to share that. But the confusing new feelings and conversations.. They had proved difficult to process alone.

Not to mention that after you and Steve had broken up, your friends had loyally become very anti-Steve. Which you very much appreciated and if the roles were reversed, you’d have done the same for them. But people and relationships were complicated. You weren’t sure how your friends would react to the whole thing.

Maria, for example, had been incredibly cautious and resistant when you filled her in. Not that she didn’t believe in giving people second chances - but instead held true to the fact that all men were just big clueless morons who never did the right thing. You couldn’t fault her for that opinion either. But even if you figured out your own feelings and walls, you’d never be able to really date Steve again if your friends hated him.

“Hmm,” Maria leaned against your counter, removing the dish cloth from her shoulder as she organized her things. “Well, you should walk me out.” She turned to you. “Points to Steve for respecting boundaries and still caring about you, but I’d feel better seeing him grovel up close.”

Clint let out a belly laugh. “Me too”

While Maria and Clint headed out, you took the opportunity to put Hercules’ leash on for one last trip outside before bed. When you stepped into the hallway, Bucky was waiting for you.

“This isn’t my place and I know you’re smart enough,” he started slowly, dropping his hand down to accept a lick from Hercules. “But you know you don’t owe Steve anything right? I told him that the day might come where you don’t answer his phone calls and he has to deal with it on his own. If you close the door, he will keep his distance.”

You scrunched up your face, then shrugged. “Thanks, Bucky. Sounds like you’ve been doing a lot of emotional support for him.”

“You have no idea, doll. It’s part of my role as lifelong best friend, unfortunately. It’s a heavy burden to bear,” Bucky laughed, shrugging too. “He’s got some demons to work through - I guess we all do. Right now with you though? He’s trying real hard not to look like he’s trying.”

You caught up with Clint and Maria at the elevator then headed to the lobby. As you walked out, you spotted Sam leaning against the front desk, chatting with the overnight doorman. And then there was Steve - standing at attention, hands locked behind his back, an equal distance between the front entrance and the elevators. He was dressed in what you considered his normal attire - a crisp navy suit over a plain shirt, no tie. He made effortless look so damn good and you sort of hated it.

When he saw you, he took a few strides forward.

Bucky and Clint joined Sam to the side while Maria lingered behind your shoulder. Hercules tugged on his leash and pulled you towards Steve immediately, clearly overjoyed to see him.

“Hey,” you started as you approached. “I unintentionally ignored your calls, I’m sorry. Just plugged my phone in and forgot about it for a while.”

Steve shook his head quickly. You couldn’t help but see his resolve lighten, as if seeing you caused his shoulders to relax. “You don’t have to apologize. I shouldn’t have dragged everyone here, there was just this..” Whatever Steve was going to say, he seemed to change his mind. He blinked twice then scanned you. “Is that.. flour?” He reached and brushed your shoulder clean.

“We’ve been baking,” you filled in quickly, doing your best to try and read him. “Claire is hosting us for Friendsgiving tomorrow and–”

“You should come!” Maria blurted out from behind you.

With wide eyes, you looked over your shoulder at her. ‘What?’ you mouthed.

Now it was Maria’s turn to shrug. “Claire said her cousin had to bail so there’s an extra seat and..” She took a step forward, nodding at you in reassurance before looking at Steve. “And Luke will be there. So.. you know, you’ll have a friend..”

“I thought Claire invited Matt?” You couldn’t help but ask as your brain caught up to you. “That doesn’t..” You turned back to Steve. “You are more than welcome to come. I know you’re busy and have a lot of–”

“I’d love to,” Steve answered slowly, as if trying to make sure you were even okay with the concept. You reached out and grabbed his nearest hand, with a squeeze. That seemed to be reassurance enough. “What can I bring?”

Steve and his crew left shortly after, not before Steve gave you a soft kiss on the cheek. You forced Maria to join you outside with Hercules before her Uber showed up. The fresh air was something you really needed to cool down.

“So,” You turned to Maria, tipping your head to the side dramatically. “What the hell was that?”

Maria whined out your name, shaking her head. “That guy is in love with you. And trust me, he has a long way to go before I will trust him again, but damn. He looks at you like you’re the most important person on the planet. And I think you love him too.”

“Maria..” You sighed, leaning your head onto her shoulder. “I don’t know how things got so complicated.”

“I just want you to be happy and safe,” she carried on, giving you a small pat on the head. “I get that not everyone is into second chances but.. I don’t know, life is short. If you feel comfortable giving the guy another chance, then we could too. Maybe. Wanda for sure can get on board, Claire might have some reservations.”

“And inviting Steve tomorrow is supposed to be some test?”

“Obviously,” Maria smirked, looking like you had said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “I think it’s only fair for us to really get to know him.”

–––

Claire lived in a beautiful rent controlled apartment in the middle of Harlem. She complained about the location every now and then - it wasn’t the smoothest commute for her to get to work - but at the end of the day, it was functional and roomy.

Which was good, considering you, Claire and Maria had rearranged most of her living room and kitchen area to host a dozen people for Friendsgiving. With a set of borrowed chairs and a folding table from Claire’s downstairs neighbour, you managed to set up the area just in time before everyone started to arrive.

When Maria had spilled in the group chat about inviting Steve to dinner, Claire had been apprehensive but on board, for your sake. And although you had been grateful for your friends’ open mindedness when it came to Steve, you were suddenly nervous about the whole thing.

Mostly because - oh god, what if he had a terrible time? Or what if he got a phone call in the middle of dinner and had to disappear? Was he going to bring a gun with him? Jesus, you hadn’t even thought about that and what if-

Claire dropped a hand on your shoulder. “Girl, you need to chill.” She urged a glass of your preferred wine into your free hand and sent you away from the kitchen area. “He’s just a man, remember.”

You laughed and clinked your glass with hers. Claire was always a good voice of reason, which you appreciated. You turned to her with a smile. “A good reminder, thank you. But speaking of men - why did you invite both your current fling and your ex to this?”

Before Claire could defend her own actions, Maria was answering a knock at the door and guests started to arrive. After a few arrivals, you were the one greeting at the door and you couldn’t hold back your smile when Steve showed up, with Luke at his side.

“Hey,” you said, politely stepping aside to let Luke in while you lingered in the doorway with Steve. “You look nice.” It felt silly to say but you couldn’t help yourself. Steve had traded his typical suit for a pair of dark brown slacks and a knitted red striped polo. His hair was perfectly coiffed and you just wanted to… kiss him. Damnit.

Steve smirked in response, pulling you into a side hug. “You look nice, sweetheart.” Okay, yes, you had picked out one of your favourite dresses. But that was because you wanted to dress up for Friendsgiving, that was the only reason.

After he shed his coat, you noticed Steve was carrying flowers. You didn’t even have a moment to comment on them before he headed towards the kitchen, where he presented the bouquet directly to Claire. She accepted them with a smile, and when he turned away, you caught her eye. She pointed towards the flowers and mouthed ‘Ten points!’

It didn’t surprise you that Steve managed to socialize effectively with everyone he just met, but he truly did such an impressive job holding conversations. Before dinner, he engrossed himself in a chat with Claire’s on-again-off-again ex-boyfriend Matt, the lawyer, and his coworker Foggy. They seemed to have some common interests in certain legal matters that mostly sounded incredibly boring to you.

Steve stayed within your orbit and even when you were in the kitchen finalizing a few things with Claire, you caught him looking your way. Why did that make your heart beat so fast?

You sat at his side for dinner and when everyone was going around sharing what they were thankful for, Steve’s hand found your knee under the table. When you said you were thankful for all the people in your life (and your dog, of course), Steve gave you a delicate squeeze and rubbed his thumb against your thigh.

After dinner, he found you in the kitchen.

“You know, Bucky was bragging all night about your cookies,” Steve saddled up beside you as you leaned against the kitchen counter, while you nibbled at the last piece of apple pie. Steve grabbed a spare fork and joined you. “They ain’t got nothing on this pie.”

You smiled. “Glad you liked it.”

“Apple is my favourite,” Steve replied, licking his lip after cleaning off his fork. “Ma makes a good one but I think she has some competition.”

“That seems like really high praise,” you laughed, leaning against the counter. Steve mirrored you, resting his hand behind your back. It was subtle, maybe even barely noticeable, but he very slowly started to trace circles against the soft fabric of your dress. You were melting. “I’m really glad you came. Hopefully it wasn’t too painful for you.”

He tipped his head to look at you. “We will have to thank Maria for inviting me.”

When Steve politely offered you a ride home, you couldn’t say no. Since you were both heading towards the same area of Brooklyn, it made a lot more sense than taking the subway. As you were leaving, Clarie, Maria and Wanda all gave you the same friendly judgemental look. You accepted that as approval for your actions, departing with a small smile and Steve’s hand at your back.

In typical Steve fashion, he walked you inside and to your apartment door. And then he even happily joined as you took Hercules outside for some air.

Then, well, the night was over. Steve had come to dinner, Steve had brought you home. What else was there to do?

“You can share those cookies with Bucky,” you said with a smile as you stood in the hallway, between Steve and your door. You were sending him home with the rest of the snickerdoodles. “Or keep them all to yourself.”

Steve smiled, raising his hand to brush it through his hair. God, that was sexy. Had that always been sexy? What was going on? Why were you feeling this way?

“Thank you again for letting me join you tonight,” he said slowly, then his feet shuffled forward half a step closer to you. “Hopefully your friends don’t hate me.”

You laughed, sliding your tongue across your lips. You watched his eyes dart down, watching carefully. You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Steve..”

Then he leaned in, holding your hips with his hands, and pressed his lips… to your cheek. You tried not to deflate.

His palms lingered against you for a moment, then he pulled back. You couldn’t read his face.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

–

You texted him well after midnight.

You [1:12AM]: are you awake? S Rogers [1:12AM]: yes

Steve answered your call after the first ring. “Is everything okay?”

You couldn’t believe you had actually hit ‘call’ but something deep within you compelled you to. It was dark in your bedroom and you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve. You had been restless in bed for over an hour as his face flashed through your mind. Steve with his broad shoulders. Steve with his lingering hands. The way his chain bounced on his chest, how he growled when he came…

Just moments ago you had reached into your bedside table for your little vibrating toy. It wasn’t the first time you had put it to use thinking about Steve. But this time, you were imagining him tearing off that knit polo, the lingering smell of his aftershave, his weight on you.

If you couldn’t feel him, maybe you could hear him.

“I’m fine..” You said slowly. “Are you at home?” It occurred to you he might have gone directly to Shield after he dropped you off.

Your name left his lips, drawing your attention back to the call. “I’m home. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“What’s wrong is..” You tried to steady your breathing. Your voice dropped down. “.. you’re not in bed beside me.”

Silence. Then, you heard his breath hitch. “Baby..”

“I can’t..” You were whining into the phone. “I want to come, Steve. Will you help me? Please?.”

He chuckled, lowering his voice. “I can’t say no to that request, sweetheart. Tell me - what are you doing? You using that toy?”

“Uh huh,” you preened back. You had been sliding it across your skin, teasing yourself for as long as you could. “I’ve been thinking about you, Stevie. You and me.”

“Me too, baby. Fuck.” You could hear more shuffling on his side. Christ. Was he touching himself too? “Listen to me, I’m going to help you. Bet you’re already wet, aren’t you?”

You just whined in response.

“Turn that toy up a notch, baby. Circle your clit real slow. And what about your nipples? God, if I was there–”

“Tell me, please. If you were here..”

Half an hour later, as your laboured breathing settled after two quivering orgasms, Steve wished you goodnight and sweet dreams.

–––

Given it was the night before Thanksgiving, your boss has been flexible when you had to dash out early. The frantic call from Kate at the dog daycare had been surprising, but thankfully your heart rate steadied out when you learned that Hercules was okay. They hadn’t spared any other details, but politely asked owners to come collect their dogs earlier than usual.

Truthfully, you had barely been functional at work all week anyway. Sure, you went through the motions and got your tasks done but before a long weekend, most people were half-assing their responsibilities anyway. And your mind was still racing after Friendsgiving dinner and the phone call with Steve and… Steve.

Fuck.

You were one of the last to arrive at the daycare, patiently waiting in line to check Hercules out. Once you had him, leash in hand, you turned to leave. Then you spotted Natasha and Yelena chatting quietly to the side of the room, and, well, you couldn’t help but follow your gut.

You saw Yelena there quite often, but Natasha was a rare sighting. Ever since your conversation with Steve after the whole warehouse incident, something had been pricking at the back of your mind.

“..Natasha barely talked to me for weeks after that night..”

Taking a deep breath, you headed toward the sisters. Luckily, it seemed like their conversation had come to an end anyway as Yelena rushed past you with a hurried hello, then joined Kate somewhere behind the scenes. Nataha remained planted where she stood, scanning over her phone. She tipped her head up as you approached.

“Hey,” you started out slowly, offering a reluctant smile.

Nat crouched briefly, greeting Hercules with a few head scratches before she met your gaze again. “How are you?”

“I was wondering if.. you had like two minutes to chat?” You asked, eyes closed tight as you anticipated her answer. You weren’t sure what it was about Natasha, but she intimated you immensely. You weren’t scared of her but something made you want to impress her.

Natasha looked at her phone again, eyes narrowed, then back to you. “I can give you five.” With a nod of her head, you followed her behind the front desk and into the small staff kitchen area opposite the main daycare space.

While Natasha dropped onto one of the well worn couches, quickly joined by Hercules as you let go of his leash, you couldn’t steady yourself. All at once, your burning questions and thoughts swirled around in your mind. Then, you took a deep breath and opened your mouth.

“Steve told me a few weeks ago, that when we broke up.. he said you stopped talking to him for a while. I wanted to ask you why..” You raised a shoulder up to shrug, then watched Natasha from across the room.

After a few beats, she let out a quiet laugh. Then, she leaned forward on the couch, elbow resting on her knees, and she stared at you. “Can I be frank with you?”

You swallowed, then found a chair to sit on near a small table. “I’d rather you be Natasha..” When that clearly shielded attempt at humour landed no response, you cleared your throat and nodded. “Yes, please.”

Natasha sighed. “Steve trusts me and when he asks me for advice, I don’t sugar coat it. Dating Steve is not an easy task and your wellbeing is his top priority. So I get why he made his decision. But I did firmly advise him not to be an asshole about it. It was going to hurt you either way, but it was up to him to control the delivery.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, well, he did a terrible job.” It didn’t sting as much anymore – really. Given how much your friendship or whatever had evolved with him now, the words didn’t echo through your mind like they used to. You understood why he had made his choices and you could see his remorse in every interaction you’ve had since. Of course, it wasn’t possible to erase what had happened but you and Steve both looked back at it differently now.

Natasha relaxed again, pressing her back into the couch. “I have known Steve for a long time and I have rarely seen him act as selfishly as he did. You deserved better than a breakup over a phone call. Jesus, when he told me what he said – I should have gut punched him. In an attempt to protect you, he fucked up something good for you both. It’s bullshit and embarrassing.” Another sigh escaped her. “And, you didn’t hear this from me, but Steve has never let himself be happy. Because this world and this work can really leave you numb. He was so different once you came into his life, it was something else. So, I was rooting for you two.”

You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks warm up with her last sentence. This seemed like something rare, a secret revealed from someone prone to privacy.

“I see why he made his self sacrifice with you. It is classic Steve, if he cares about something, he cares deeply and shows it.” She pinned you with a stare, giving you another once over. “Here’s the thing. You get to decide if you want to forgive him but if you look back over everything – every single moment with Steve – was there a pattern that makes forgiveness worth it?” Her phone, which had been resting on the couch beside her leg, started to vibrate. “Shit. I’ve gotta take this.”

Natasha stepped away briefly, keeping her tone hushed.

Christ, you probably need a therapist to start unpacking everything that Natasha had just presented. Was there a pattern?

Yes.

Every single action from Steve since the beginning had been, well, selfless. He was constantly putting your needs above everything else. The day you saved him outside the restaurant, he took you to the one person he trusted the most for care. When you called him in distress during your apartment break in, he didn’t hesitate to come help you.

He picked up on your subtleties, your fears and concerns. He moved you to a safer apartment, he protected you from unsavoury people, he pleaded for your understanding, he always left you feeling satisfied. More importantly, he let himself be himself around you. You loved seeing the personal, soft side of Steve. You.. you loved Steve. And maybe it was time to take the leap of faith again - because you missed him when he wasn’t around.

Fuck.

Before your logical brain could catch up and decide what to do with this revelation, Natasha was standing in front of you again. Her eyes were hiding something.

You held your breath when she finally spoke.

“So, speaking of Steve…”

–––

Ever since that night, at the abandoned warehouse, on that rooftop.. Steve had been on edge. More than before. You were constantly on his mind, and despite his efforts to ensure you were safe, he couldn’t settle.

Well, until he got to hear your voice every night. That… that started to mean more to him than he could explain. It was different this time around - the slow build to flirting, wrapped underneath a foundation of familiarity.

But it felt like that spark from before had returned, though he couldn’t act on it.

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Bucky had been his voice of reason through all of the confusing feelings. He kept Steve grounded in reality - that the ball was in your court only, forever. If you were ever going to humour Steve again, it was your choice, at your pace. And maybe it would never happen. Bucky had reminded Steve more than once.

Every agonizing decision Steve was making lately had you at the forefront. Maybe it wouldn’t end up how he wanted it, but if you were safe and secure and happy, nothing else mattered.

Though it had been completely irrational for Steve to make the crew rush to your apartment on a Friday night, the precautionary gamble ended up paying off. Not only were you perfectly safe, but Steve had somehow managed to end up with an invitation to dinner with your friends.

And dinner had gone surprisingly well too. The moments with you and in your world, away from his own, had been so calming. A reminder that life existed outside of the seedy underbelly, where friendly conversation and good food were the only reason why people got together. God, he had enjoyed every minute of it. But more than anything, he was happy to be at your side.

Leaving your doorway that night with just a simple kiss on the cheek had been hard for him to do. But everything needed to go at your pace. If that meant an inappropriate late night phone call, he’d help you out, too.

He was fucked.

Admittedly, the past few days had been a welcome distraction following Saturday night. Some events in his business life ended up escalating way quicker than Steve had anticipated - which largely meant ignoring other priorities (and thoughts of you) to assist Bucky with his latest project - the dog fighting ring investigation.

Steve had kept Rhodes in the loop about their plan, much to the former DA’s dismay. Steve had made it his own personal mission to take down this underground operation and he promised Rhodes the public credit. But Steve needed the NYPD to turn a blind eye to their plan.

The ambush took place that Wednesday afternoon, with Bucky, Steve, Sam and a few additional men breaking into an abandoned facility in north Queens and going in with plenty of ammunition. They recovered nearly a dozen dogs, most of which immediately went to a veterinary hospital to be checked out. The pups who didn’t need overnight care were to be transferred to Kate’s facility for the weekend, with the costs covered by Steve.

But, after all was said and done, not everyone had left unscathed. Four of the people organizing the dog fighting were sent to a hospital with some severe wounds thanks to Bucky. And Steve, out of all people, had ended up with a pretty dramatic gash in his left arm from one of the dogs. He didn’t blame the poor animal for the situation, of course. But medical attention was necessary.

That was how he ended up at his mom’s clinic - once again. Sarah Rogers had, of course, greeted him warmly then delivered a firm lecture to him about his personal safety.

Just as Sarah was finishing up cleaning his arm and applying a few temporary sutures to the area, there was a small commotion happening somewhere beyond their room at the entrance.

Steve didn’t hesitate to rush towards the lobby area, finding the intake nurse addressing someone at the door. That’s when he saw who that someone was - you.

Maybe he had lost more blood than he thought, but damn. With the late afternoon sunset streaming in, backlighting you perfectly, it looked like a halo of light. A perfect ring of light framing you, like an angel - as you desperately asked the front desk nurse about Steve, where he was, if he was okay.

The nurse was caught in a repetitive loop, explaining that she couldn’t say who was at the clinic and insisting that dogs weren’t allowed in the building and you needed to leave and –

Steve took a few steps forward, calling out your name.

Sarah hurried behind the desk and calmed down the girl who sat there, quietly pulling her to the side to leave Steve alone. With you.

“Steve!” You blinked twice and rushed towards him, stopping yourself before you crashed into his chest. “Natasha told me you were here and.. What happened?” You reached out and carefully grabbed his arm, where fresh gauze covered the bite.

Steve answered quickly, removing your hand from his arm and raising it up to kiss the back. “It looks worse than it is, I promise.”

You smiled at him and nodded. “Okay. Good.” Then you took a deep breath. “And all the dogs - they’re safe?”

“Yes, sweetheart. All receiving the care and rest they deserve.” Before Steve realized what was happening, you were throwing your arms around him. He whispered your name softly, rubbing a hand down your back.

You pulled back and met his soft gaze. “Steve..” You scanned over him again, as if double checking what he said was true. Aside from the bandaging on his arm, Steve truthfully was unharmed. His emotions had been a rollercoaster but for some reason, seeing you had helped settle most of that.

His hand moved and cradled your jaw for just a moment, before brushing against your cheek. “Did you rush all the way here because you were worried about me?”

Your eyes widened before you shook your head. “What? No. I’m not.. It was Hercules, actually, who wanted to make sure all the dogs were okay.”

Steve couldn’t hold back his grin. “Right.”

“We-” You motioned your head towards Hercules, who was sitting patiently nearby - “weren’t sure what Natasha meant when she said you were injured and..” A long slow breath escaped you. “I just needed to see you.”

Steve could understand your panic, given how he had dramatically rushed to your apartment building over the weekend. Those parallels weren’t lost on him. It had to mean something, right? It all had to mean something.

Your reunion was interrupted by Steve’s ringing phone, where he cursed under his breath before moving his hands from you. “I’ve gotta take this, I’m sorry.”

While Steve took his call from Bucky, you were quickly greeted by an excited Sarah, who grabbed your hand and pulled you away to catch up.

–––

Following your reunion at the clinic, Steve had one of his hands on you. Behind your back, holding your hand, his own hand on your knee on the drive back. He only let go briefly to let you hug Sarah goodbye, after you accepted her invitation to Thanksgiving dinner the next day.

Now, back at your apartment, all you could think about was what was Steve, Steve, Steve. His phone had buzzed with another call from Bucky the moment you stepped inside. He apologized before answering, and you could have sworn you heard him cursing his friend out.

You refreshed Hercules water and food bowls then went into your bedroom, trying to tidy the place up. When you went to pull your blinds down, you couldn’t help but find yourself distracted by the city. Although your view wasn’t as impressive as Steve’s penthouse, you could see into the Brooklyn streets below. At the right angle, you could even see the final orange glow of the sunset through some of the buildings.

It had proved to be a big enough distraction because you didn’t even hear Steve end his call or walk into the room behind you. Instead, you felt his hands on your shoulders, slowly wrapping around and pulling you against his chest. His lips brushed the top of your head.

“Everything good?” You murmured as his hands started to trail their way down your body.

“Mmhmm,” Steve replied quietly, dipping his head down, breathing hot against the side of your neck. “Is this okay?”

You closed your eyes. “Yes but..” It took everything in you to pause, but you turned around in his arms and did just that. “Wait.”

He immediately stopped what he was doing, removing his hands from you as he searched your face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you answered too quickly.

He said your name knowingly then repeated himself. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Okay, okay. I’m just going to say it. Steve, I want this again - with you. I want us to press reset but I’m really fucking scared.”

You watched Steve absorb your words. Telling the truth was something you knew you had to do, but you hoped Steve understood. He was still, but you could see his brain computing.

“And it’s not about the… rooftop thing. Although.. I definitely don’t think back to that night fondly.” You shook your head as you continued. “I’m scared you’re going to change your mind again. Because I don’t know if I can feel like that again. I’ve convinced myself that the good feelings outweigh that risk but..” Your voice cracked. “I’m scared.”

Steve grabbed your hands and turned you enough to help you sit on the bed. He crouched down in front of you, tracing his thumbs across your knees. “Sweetheart. Hurting you was the biggest regret of my life. I know my words can only mean so much but I want you to hear me.” You met his gaze and nodded. “I’m an idiot. An idiot who will do everything in his power to prove to you how much you mean to me. I can’t undo what I said and resetting doesn’t make it go away. But I love you and want to make this work for us if you’ll give me this chance.”

You raised your hands and cradled his face. “That was quite the speech.”

He smirked. “I mean it, baby. Every word.”

“Okay.” You took in another breath then let it out slowly.

“Okay?” Steve asked.

“Okay, let’s reset.” Your hands left his cheeks, carding through his hair as your lips crashed into his. Kissing Steve didn’t feel like going back to the beginning though - it felt like picking up where you left off.

Steve didn’t waste a moment responding, hands traveling to the back of your neck to steady you as he pushed you down on the bed. Everything happening now, in that moment, was all that mattered to you both. Steve wanted you, you wanted him. Nothing else needed to make sense.

Your hands roamed down Steve’s torso as he hovered over you, pulling at his shirt and trying to make quick work of the buttons. Steve shed his shirt without his lips leaving you, pressing hot wet kisses against your cheek, down towards your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, gasping when his teeth grazed your shoulder.

“Less clothes,” he whined out, removing himself from you long enough for your top to come off. He stood off the bed briefly to slip out of his pants, while you shimmied out of your jeans. You were left in just your underwear, some very unsexy unmatched set.

But lord, the way Steve looked at you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said firmly, crawling back over you on the bed. He braced himself above you again, tracing a finger up your jaw to tip your chin up.

You felt your cheeks grow warm. “Steve..”

‘“I’m sorry if what I said… on that phone call - if it ever made you doubt how fucking beautiful you are.” He dipped his head down and met your lips again, softer this time. “I love you, the shape of your body..” He trailed his kisses down you again, towards your chest. “Your heart..” His hands moved down the same way, tracing gently across your chest, along your soft stomach, on top of every single piece of you that you didn’t always love. “I love all of you.”

“Steve,” you whimpered under his touch, squeezing your eyes shut. “Please don’t make me cry.” You choked out a laugh, tipping your head back to mind your happy tears. When you looked back, he was staring at you with a lovestruck smile again. “Thank you. I love you too.”

He grinned, once again leaning down to press his lips to your skin. This time, it was just above your belly button. “It’s okay to cry, sweetheart. But how about I make you come instead?”

How could you argue with that?

Steve surveyed your form intently as he got back to work, hands and lips peppering against your skin. He slid his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and slid them down your legs. You helped to kick them away, just as Steve was licking his lips.

His eyes flicked to you. “Lay back, baby. Get comfortable.”

You were quick to shift on the bed, into your pillows. Just as you rested your head back, you felt the bed sink slightly just between your legs. Then the soft kisses that had been decorating your skin were inside your thighs. And then–

You let out a whimper when his mouth met your center. You knew you were already wet, but when Steve growled against your clit and slid a finger into you, it felt like a flood.

“Oh my g-god, Steve.” With one hand, you grasped at his hair. The other dragged across your chest, pulling your own bra down to grab your nipples. “Yes, yes, please.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, breathless as Steve continued stroking, suctioning against your clit as your moans grew louder. When another finger entered you, crooked inside in search of just the right spot, you nearly combusted. And when you did careen over the edge just moments later, Steve didn’t slow down.

In a daze you sat up slightly to watch him work. He was drowning in you, his own hips grinding against the bed as he consumed you. Jesus fucking Christ - that was hot. Steve was hot. This - this was hot.

“Steve,” you called for him as his mouth finally slowed down, returning to slow kisses against the inside of your thighs again. He looked up and met your eyes, drunk with love and contentment. “I need to feel you - please.”

“Okay, baby,” he replied with a soft smile. “Let me take care of you.” He shucked off his boxers and crawled up the bed again, hovering above you once more.

You raked your hands over his chest when he was close enough, gripping his hips as you pulled him down and kissed him. Your own taste lingered on his lips and tongue as he breathed into you.

“You ready?” He asked softly, reaching between your waists to position himself.

“Mmhmm,” you whispered, pressing another kiss against him. “Please.”

“Fuck,” Steve cursed out, eyes closing as he pushed himself in. God, you fit together so well. Once he felt comfortable, watching you for the right signs of pleasure, he moved out slowly before finding a rhythm.

“Steve, I missed you so much..” You wrapped your hands around his neck, in an attempt to keep him as close to you as possible. With one hand, he held one of your legs up, just enough to elicit better friction. And with the other, he cradled the back of your neck. “Missed this - this stretch..”

You could feel him smiling as he kissed you again. His hips sped up, adding just enough extra pressure that you could really feel him. You’d feel him tomorrow, too.

“My girl,” he said breathlessly against your neck. “Always. Mine..” His mouth ravaged your neck and shoulders. “Want this forever.. Want you forever..” He slowed down momentarily. “Wanna fill you up, baby.”

“Yes, yes please..” you said in return, scratching across his back with your hands as you braced yourself. A low growl escaped him as he came. He tensed up as he finished, weight heavy on top of you as you both caught your breaths.

As his head rested near yours, his lips pressed against your earlobe. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. I love you.”

You were still laying in a daze when Steve returned to you in the bed after cleaning up, placing a cup of tea on the bedside table closest to you. His own matching cup rested in his hands. You sat up, pulling up the sheet with you as you rested against the headboard.

Shifting slightly, you pivoted to look at him. “I really missed you.”

He grinned. “So you said.”

“No, not just that.” You gave his shoulder a small nudge, careful not to jostle his tea. “I just like being around you.”

His smile softened. “Me too.” He drew in a long breath and moved his cup to the side table before continuing. He said your name, drawing your gaze to his. “Resetting doesn’t make who I am go away.”

You gulped. “I know.” He seemed to be searching for what to say next, so you continued instead. “I can’t pretend to understand why you do what you do. And I don’t decide what is right and wrong. Neither of us do.” You took a deep breath. “But I want to be with you. That makes me feel a little bit crazy but maybe that’s part of being in love.”

Steve laughed. “You’re in love, huh.”

Rolling your eyes, you fell into his side. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

“And I love you, baby.” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest, against his heart. He kissed your forehead. “I’m going to keep my professional life at bay. I won’t be able to stop it from bleeding into this but I promise you I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. I take that privilege seriously.” You felt him squeeze you a bit tighter. “Though I do think there are some precautions we can take, too.”

“We?” You pulled back slightly and watched him.

“I’m going to get you something for your keys and pepper spray for your bag. How would you feel about taking a self-defense class?”

You scrunched up your face as you considered. “It has been on my to-do list for a long time.” Even without a high profile partner like Steve, knowing you feel prepared in times of danger was something you knew was important. You probably should have prioritized it sooner, really.

“Natasha teaches a class, actually. At her gym.”

“Natasha has a gym?” You nodded. “Yeah, okay. I could do that. Will you take the class with me?”

Steve laughed again. “I don’t need self-defense training, sweetheart.”

“But then we can practice together. C’mon, pleeease.”

Steve groaned, but it was evident very quickly he’d do anything you asked. So, he nodded. “Fine.”

You paused. “You’re not going to make me carry a gun, are you?”

“First of all, I’d never make you do anything.” He sat up a bit straighter, face stern. “And no, absolutely not. I hope you are never in a position where that kind of defense is required.”

You settled against him again. Big conversations like this were expected and you knew it made sense to feel a bit scared still. But, that wasn’t the feeling lingering in your stomach anymore. No, it was more like… safety, contentment, familiarity.

It was something akin to being home.

–––

Shield closed down on Christmas Eve and reopened on New Years Eve, so you weren’t sure why Steve needed to check in there in the middle of the holiday week. Sure, his office was upstairs but he had vowed to do as little work as possible over your days off together. And yet, after a lovely dinner together, he apologetically announced there was something there he needed to check in on.

You had shared a few delicious plates at May’s, a small Italian place in Queens. Steve had given you a history of the restaurant on your way - it was one of the first properties he invested in years ago so it was clearly a special place. When you arrived, the server had immediately showed you to a more intimate table tucked away in the back corner.

Wine and food arrived at the table without a menu or many words exchanged between the server and Steve. After you had finished eating - polishing off one of the best tiramisus you had ever tasted - the restaurant owner, May, came out to say hello.

When you left without mentioning a bill, you had a feeling that the business Steve did with May extended beyond just being a landlord. You didn’t ask any questions though.

Over the last month with Steve, the questionable moments were quite rare. He really did maintain the boundary between his personal life and everything else, with only a bit of a crossover. You had joined him at the club a few times - because you realized dating the club owner eliminated all the awful things you hated about going out. You never had to wait for entrance or for a drink ever again. Your friends especially liked the free drinks and safe rides home, too.

That was only a fringe benefit of being with Steve though. What really stood out to you was just Steve. Getting to know each other all over again had been exciting and fulfilling, in many ways.

You kept up your nightly phone calls. Well, when you weren’t crashing at his or him dropping into your bed, you kept up the calls. You had spent Thanksgiving with him at Sarah’s and were greeted with boxes of childhood photos to fawn over. For Christmas, you, Steve and Sarah had all travelled up to Albany to spend the day cooking and celebrating with your mom.

Slowly, it seemed your worlds would be blending together. And you weren’t really sure what the future was going to hold and how that might transpire, but you decided it was worth seeing what could happen. Because being with Steve seemed worth it.

“I promise this won’t take too long,” Steve’s voice broke you from your thoughts, as he parked his car near the back exit of the club. It was a small lot reserved for Steve and Shield staff members only, currently only occupied by one other black car. You weren’t sure who that belonged to. Maybe Natasha was there doing inventory of the bar before New Years.

You gave him a smile from the passenger seat, leaning over to meet his lips for a kiss. “Remember that we have a big day of sleeping in without an alarm tomorrow so..” He smirked. “Take all the time you need.”

Steve bounded out of the car and raced around to help you out, extending his hand to ensure you stepped safely onto the asphalt. You had dressed up for dinner, picking out your favourite black dress paired with some heels that didn’t cause you too much pain to walk in. Steve had grinned like a schoolboy when he picked you up, which made you feel, well, beautiful. You had paired the dress with your Christmas gift from him - a stunning gold and diamond pendant, shaped like a wing. A matching wing now sat with the chain on his neck, too.

You clutched Steve’s hand as you headed through the backdoor of the club. From the dark back hallway, you could have sworn you could hear music playing somewhere. Maybe it was just the memory of whatever song was just playing in Steve’s car.

As you twisted down the hallway, past the back office, storage rooms, and the back stairs up towards the second floor, the music grew a bit louder. You definitely heard music. You tried to ask Steve what was going on but he just squeezed your hand, threw a mischievous grin over his shoulder and carried on.

When you finally made it to the main club area, it was still pitch black. The music kept playing. You grasped both of Steve’s hands in a panic and by the time you had formed a sentence to ask a worried question, the lights powered on.

But it wasn’t the regular industrial overhead lights. Nor was it the multicoloured pot lights that danced around to match the beat of the club music. No, this was something else.

Above you, the multicoloured lights were steady and emitting just a soft blue tone. Across the open railings above, partitioning off the downstairs area from the VIPs upstairs, various strands of string lights were hung and illuminated. It made the club area feel almost intimate.

You dropped Steve’s hands and turned around, speechless as you took it all in. On the end of the bar, you spotted a bottle of champagne sitting on ice with two matching glasses waiting. The music playing above you switched to something softer. An old song crackled through the speakers.

You turned back to Steve, who was gazing at you.

He stepped towards you, hand extended. “Dance with me, sweetheart?”

How could you say no to that request?

Steve helped you take off your coat and discarded his own. Then he pulled you towards the very center of the room, under a now spinning disco ball that splashed flickers of light around the space.

“Steve,” you started, resting your head against his chest. One of his palms cradled the small of your back while the other grasped your hand, hovering in the air as he led you in slow circles.. “Did you do this all just for me?”

He chuckled. You could feel it rumble through him. “Bucky helped me out.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand in response. You didn’t know what to say.

And maybe that was okay, because at that moment, it was just you and Steve. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I promise I’ll always dance with you.”

FIN

-----

Author's Note: Thank you again so much for reading! I have a few ideas for additional one shots in this AU, including a smutty little threesome fic and a small story with Bucky and a girl from the club. if you have any questions or want to know more about this universe or Steve and Reader, please please drop into my inbox or the comments!! love you all!!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x plus sized reader #steve rogers x you #mob boss steve rogers #mob boss steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #story: sink into me #simmerandwrite #simmerandcry

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buckyalpine · 1 year

Text

Satisfied

18+

Mob!Steve x reader x Bodyguard!Bucky

This can be read as a stand alone. What started off as a oneshot turned into a final three part piece with our beautiful menaces.

Craving

Just a Taste

Warnings: Cuckolding, Breeding kink, pregnancy kink, lactation kink, dom Steve, switch Bucky, Sub reader, so much dirty talking

“Ready to take our cocks baby?”

You were tossed onto the bed while your husband smirked, his best friend beside him with a matching expression, both men ready to utterly ruin you. You could feel your stomach clench, your pussy already making a mess on the sheets watching Steve starting to loosen his tie.

“You gonna be a good girl for us princess? Listen to everything we tell you to do, make us feel good?”

“Yes daddy”

Bucky’s hand went down to palm his aching length, squeezing it at the way you looked up at Steve with pretty doe eyes before your gaze flicked over to him, a whimper slipping past your lips when you watched Bucky rub his erection.

“Already needy for his cock, hm? Greedy little baby, all it took was one taste and you’re already whining for him to stuff you full?” Steve cupped your face, pulling you down for a fiery kiss, while his other hand worked at his belt and unzipping his pants. You chased more of his lips, your nipples pebbled, skin hot with anticipation, both men still fully clothed while you were bare.

Bucky’s cock strained against his pants, It was almost painful, hearing your soft whines and whimpers as Steve slipped his tongue into your mouth. He tried to squeeze his length to calm himself down but it was pointless, there was already a prominent wet patch on his pants from where the tip of his cock rested. He watched Steve’s hand come down to rub through your folds, spreading your slick around. Bucky groaned at the sight of your glistening cunt as you spread your legs further, rubbing your clit while Steve stuffed his fingers into your mouth letting you taste yourself.

There was only so much restraint Bucky had.

Your eyes grew wide at the deep moan you heard behind Steve to find Bucky with his cock out, his fist working at his length, eyes locked on you. He bit his lip, giving himself slow strokes from the base of his cock, twisting at the head. Steve continued his ministrations, going back to toying with your pussy while he pulled his own cock out.

“You see what you do to him baby, couldn’t even keep it in his pants” Steve smirked, watching Bucky stroke himself, the head of his length a silky mess. Your husband pulled away, causing you to whine at the loss of contact.

“Come here and get on your knees sweets” Both men towered over you as you sunk to the floor, looking up at them, their leaky thick cocks hanging above your face. You let your fingers dig into Steve’s thighs as you took his tip into your mouth, moaning at the taste of him, working your tongue in swirls. You took more of him till your nose was flush against the base, choking and gagging on his length.

“Look at her, fuck-she’s-oh God she’s perfect” Bucky was already a babbling mess, watching you slobber over your husband, stroking him while you fit as much as you could into your mouth. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty doll”

Steve grinned proudly, lightly thrusting into your mouth, Bucky’s broken moans making his cock harder combined with your gagging. As gorgeous as you were on your knees for him, his cock twitched at the thought of you putting on a show for him. He shoved his cock deep into your throat, savoring your soft mouth before giving your bodyguard a taste.

“Suck his cock babygirl” Steve cooed, gently tugging your hair, pulling you off him and guiding you to Bucky’s leaking tip. Bucky’s eyes grew wide as you greedily lapped him up, your hand teaching up to play with Steve’s balls while you wrapped your lips around your husbands best friend. “That’s it pretty girl, give him some nice sloppy head, you dreamed of this didn’t you? Sucking his dick, tasting his balls, my filthy little bitch” Steve pushed your head all the way down till you choked, tears streaming down your face. Your thighs were sticky with arousal, your hands now clinging around Bucky’s meaty thighs, nose against the dark hair at the base of his cock. Your husband guided your head up and down, while bringing his hand up to jerk his cock at how perfectly slutty you were.

“Suck it, tell her how much you love it Buck, how much you love my wife on her knees for you with your dick in her mouth. Tell my precious baby how that’s all she’s good for, cockhungry whore” Bucky’s hands replaced Steve’s, carding through your hair as he started to fuck your mouth, his hips already starting to stutter.

“Your mouth feels good, so-so fucking good baby, think-fuck, I-I think I’m gonna cum” Bucky’s jaw was slack, his balls throbbing. “C’mon, suck-suck my balls baby, get ‘em both in your mouth” You pulled off with a pop, laving at his warm sac, letting your tongue dip to the underside of his balls making him nearly sob in pleasure, “Oh fuck, that’s it, God they’re so fuckin’ full printsessa, suck’em baby, feel how much cum I have for you”

You whined while keeping your mouth full, letting your hands trail between your legs. play with yourself instead. Your eyes rolled back, fluttering closed as you rubbed yourself faster, letting Bucky fuck your mouth, his balls hitting your chin.

“My poor needy baby, look at her, can’t ever keep her fucking hands to herself, playing with her tingly little button” Steve let out an amused laugh with a hint of a growl in his voice watching you rub your pussy while you sucked your bodyguard, your eyes closed, lost in how good he tasted. You drank every drop of precum, getting sloppy and messy, letting him practically grind his face on you whenever you sucked his balls. “You wanna be filled up with cock, don’t you baby”

You nodded, giving your husband pleading doe eyes; he nodded to Bucky, helping you onto your feet before tossing you over his shoulder and throwing you back onto the large bed. He sat against the headboard, dragging you like a rag doll to straddle his lap, pressing his length against your folds.

“Daddy, please” You rutted yourself on him, desperate for some type of relief, gasping when the tip of his cock pressed against your soaked cunt.

“Don’t be a brat, you’ll get all the cock you want” Steve spanked you ass, gripping your hips and sinking you down on his length, moaning with you as he buried himself to the hilt. Bucky couldn’t help himself, kneeling on the bed beside you both, jerking his cock while you started to move, riding your husband. You needed more, your pussy full but your mouth empty, greedily leaning over so you could take Bucky in your mouth, a pornographic moan escaping from his lips, catching him off guard.

“Oh-oh FUCK baby!”

“My pretty princess is such a fuckin’ whore” Steve moaned, throwing his head back while you continued to bounce on his cock while gagging and choking all over Bucky, pulling off his length with a pop just to get a taste of his balls again.

“You like those in your mouth, huh baby?”

“Tastes so good Daddy” You gathered the precum off Bucky’s cock, wetting you lips with his arousal before smashing your lips on Steve, letting him get a taste of what you making you so feral.

“Yeah? You like how he tastes baby? Didn’t realize you were such a cumslut baby, you love cum don’t you?” Steve snarled, thrusting up from underneath you while you let out choked moans, going back to slobbering all over Bucky. He wanted to cum so badly, fill you up but the fucked up part of his brain wouldn’t let him, only wanting to let go once you were utterly fucked out. He pushed you off his cock so you were lying down, beckoning for his best friend to have a turn instead.

“I wanna see how much of a slut you are baby. This is what you dreamed of, isn’t it princess? My best friend in our bed?” Steve sat against the headboard against the pillows, gripping the base of his length while Bucky crawled on top of you, his heavy cock bobbing between his legs. You whimpered, spreading your legs for him, his length streaking precum onto your tummy.

“What else did you need pretty baby, you want it fast or slow, you want me to fucking ruin this pussy or make love to you, hm?” Bucky slipped his thumb past your lips, groaning at the way you started to suck, desperate whines making him throb. “Tell us what you want sweets”

“I-I-

“You what, needy little baby, what does the little princess want” Bucky cooed, kissing up your neck nipping your jaw, his hand stroking your waist. “Spoilt babygirl, thinking of my cock”

You nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist while he groaned, teasing the tip around before slowly pushing himself in you. You moaned for him, digging your heels into his ass till he was all the way in your tummy. He started to rock his hips, grinding and rutting it cock deep in your pussy, a mix of lust and a tinge of envy coursing through his body.

“F-Fuck, you kept this little slut a secret” He groaned, thinking about all the times he thought you were too sweet, too precious, too innocent to even masturbate to. All the times he hated himself for thinking about his best friends pretty wife, the pretty angel he’d never get to touch, the pretty angel that was letting him now pump his load in her. “You gonna let us pump of full of cum baby?”

“Fill me up Bucky” You slurred out, too fucked out by the stretch of him to care about how needy and desperate you sounded. Steve cocked and eyebrow, watching you mark your bodyguard, dragging your nails across his back, nearly breaking the skin, digging your teeth into his neck. You were so feral for another man, so innocent to the outside world. Fuck he was so lucky.

“Look at you, moaning for another man in our bed baby, letting him fuck you raw, you feel his cum leaking in you sweets, you letting him make a mess in that tight little pussy?” Steve moaned out, stroking himself faster, watching Bucky pound your pussy, wrecking your body as if he owned it. “You want that baby, want my bestfriends cum in you baby? Say it you fuckin’ slut, say you want another man to cum in you”

“Want-I want his cum daddy!” You cried out while Bucky brought his knee up to fuck you deeper, thrusting into you till the headboard shook. He grunted, sweat beading at his forehead, keeping his face hidden against your neck, utterly lost in how badly he wanted to bust in your pussy.

“Steve-m’gonna cum-fuck-FUCK” Bucky started to pound you faster, fisting the sheets while his friend let out a breathless chuckle, his own orgasm crawling down his spine watching his wife get railed.

“She’s got you fucked huh? Her pussy makes you never wanna leave-shit”

“She’s so tight, how-fuck-how are you so tight baby, how the fuck are you taking my cock” Bucky pulled away from the crook of your neck, looking down at where you were both connected, nearly sobbing at the sight of his creamy cock sliding in and out of you, your cunt swallowing his length. “God, I wish you were mine, baby, I never wanna pull out, wanna be in this pussy every. Damn. Day” His hips slammed into you with each word, his balls growing heavier.

“Hear that princess, you like that?” Steve tucked some of the stray hair away from your face, your teary eyes gazing up at him. Your needy whiny whimpers just made it more difficult for either men to hold off much longer.

“Princess, can’t-I can’t hold it-m’gonna cum sweets, m’gonna fuckin’ bust in you”

“Want your cum James!” That was all he had to hear, thrusting and fucking you with abandon while Steve shoved his cock into your mouth, both men using you while you were a teary soaked mess.

“Oh fuuckk babygirl, you’re gonna get it baby, I promise, every fuckin’ drop till my balls are empty, m’gonna cum in you till I can drink your milk” Bucky smirked at the low growl he heard from Steve, fucking you harder, faster, both men going higher and higher. “Gonna get you so fuckin full of me, these tits are gonna be leaking for days baby, you’re gonna feed all of us, yeah?”

You nodded, letting out a muffled moan, feeling your husbands cock harden in your mouth. Bucky dipped his head down to latch onto your breast, sucking your nipple until it was sore and swollen.

“This is how you’re gonna feed us, huh princess, gonna feed us so fuckin’ good when you’re leaking with milk” Bucky moaned around your nipple, tugging it between his teeth while you mewled, squeezing his cock in your pussy. “Yeah, you gonna feed our baby, then feed your baby daddy? When daddy gets all hungry for mama’s sweet milk?”

“Gonna-fuck-gonna feed you James!”

Steve grinned, watching your eyes roll back at those words, he could tell you were so close, so fucking close. He tilted your face to meet his eyes, cooing at the way your clung onto Bucky.

“You gonna let him get you pregnant in our bed sweets? What about when you’re all swollen and round babygirl, all pretty and pregnant? You think he’s gonna take his eyes off you?” Steve smirked, knowing how protective Bucky was over you. “We’ll-we’ll be gentle sweets, don’t worry, he’s gonna take care of his little princess and her sensitive little button when you can’t reach over your belly”

“Mmmm,-hng- don’t-just shut the fuck up-” Bucky gritted, struggling not to cum, Steve’s words making him absolutely feral, picturing you pregnant.

“Don’t what, you don’t think she’ll look so pretty with that perfect belly all round, too swollen to even take care of herself”

“Oh god”

“Begging for someone to play with her down there when she’s all needy”

“Sh-shit”

“You think my slutty little wife won’t beg for your cock if I’m not home to take care of her? You know how needy and full she’s gonna get, she’s gonna feed us so good, Fuck-she’s such a whore, my fucking perfect little whore-oh SHITTT” Steve threw his head back, his hips lifting off the bed as he shot cum onto your face, painting your face with his cream.

“Steve-I-fuck, gonna fill her with my cum, theres-fuck baby theres so much, m’sorry, s’too much princess, m’gonna make sucha mess in your pussy, gonna ruin your fuckin’ sheets-Take-fuck-take it, I’M CUMMING IN HER, FUCKK”

“Cum in my wife, fucking cum in her, give my little slut all the cum he wants”

“I’M GONNA GET YOU PREGNANT BABY, TAKE ALL MY CUM” Bucky roared against your neck, his hand flying to the head board, letting it splinter under his grip as he stilled, his cock bursting with cum. You cried out with him as your own orgasm clenched around his cock making him shudder, everything around you a dull buzz, spots clouding your vision.

You felt like you were floating, too fucked out to register the warm cloth that grazed your skin or the cool lotion that was being rubbed onto your body. You only faintly felt the soft kisses that were peppered onto your body, whispers of what a good girl you were between praises of how much you were adored exchanged between Steve and Bucky.

You yawned, letting out a content sigh, feeling the warmth from your husband on one side, your bodyguard on the other, both men wrapping a protective arm around you.

“Rest up lil mama, you need it”

They didn’t see the little playful smile that curved on your lips at the feel of their still semi hard cocks; a nap would be a good idea before the rest of the night continued.

“Sleep well, babygirl”

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biteofcherry · 1 year

Note

Does mafia Steve from Nesting like his wife's pregnant belly?

Like? Steve loves it! He's obsessed with it. He puts his hand on her belly whenever he can 😊

Nesting

mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

warnings for the part below: pregnancy; breeding kink; pregnant belly appreciation; fluff; a bit of smut; soft!dark Steve Rogers; mafia!Steve Rogers;

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Magnifica." Steve murmurs in awe, his warm breath brushing your cheek as he leans his chin on your shoulder to watch his hand roam over your pregnant belly.

You're sprawled in bed, Steve leaning against the headboard and you sitting between his legs, your back resting against his chest. You've been watching a baking show on the ridiculously huge tv screen while Steve fed you bites of fruit and some chocolates.

That's until his focus switched to your belly.

He traces both hands over the flimsy fabric of the pink babydoll you're wearing, resting his palms over the swell of you, chasing little flutters beneath your skin.

He doesn't do it only in bed, though it's mostly where he gets enough time to fully immerse in his fascination with your pregnant body. But Steve touches you whenever he can - keeping an arm around you and a hand spread possessively over your big belly when you're out; lifting your shirt up and peppering your belly with kisses when you're lounging at home. Any given opportunity, really.

Occasionally his focus would switch to your tits, which filled out more and become the core of your latest torment - they're ridiculously sensitive, getting you shaking in arousal with a mere touch.

"You should always look like that." Steve states, his big palm spread over the center of your belly.

"Like a huge whale?" You snort, trying to focus on the cakes that are being currently made on the tv and not on the way Steve's touch makes your sensitive skin tingle.

"Whales can't compare." Steve chuckles, sliding one of his hands a little upwards. "They're not as hot and glowing as you."

He cups your breast - your nipple instantly stiffening under his touch - and you let out a tiny gasp.

"It's only sweat and anti-stretch marks oil." You huff; lately you were becoming more self-conscious and self-depreciating.

"The oil maybe makes your skin softer," Steve pulls down the strap of your nightie and squeezes your exposed breast. Jolt of arousal zaps straight to your clit. "But it's the pregnancy that makes you so sensitive and extra responsive."

"It's my seed growing in your belly that causes it." His voice drops into that low, deep timbre which makes your pussy pulse in anticipation.

Steve starts pulling the fabric of your babydoll upwards, his hand quickly sneaks beneath it to relish in the skin-on-skin contact.

"You are amazing." Steve turns his head to kiss your cheek. "Your body is amazing. It's creating life."

He starts mouthing kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck.

"And it takes me so well..." he growls, scraping his teeth over your shoulder.

Suddenly, in a swift yet gentle move, Steve pushes you forward.

He has you on your hands and knees before you manage to utter a single syllable of protest.

Steve nudges your thighs wider apart. You comply instantly, your body already buzzing with need. You kind of hate how quickly you rouse nowadays. Not like Steve had much trouble making you drip in rapid time without your pregnancy hormones raging.

"Already so wet for me." Steve hums, pleased, as his fingers slide between your folds.

"Or maybe, my little wife..." he guides the leaking tip of his cock to your entrance - "You're always ready for me?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. He clasps one hand on your shoulder to keep you in place and rests the other hand on your belly as he pushes into your cunt in one, firm stroke.

"Gonna keep you like this for a long time, little bird." He groans in delight as your walls flutter around him. "For as long as your body can take it."

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #mafia!steve rogers #mob boss!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers x reader #soft!dark steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #nesting #my writing

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bigtreefest · 3 months

Text

You Catch More Bees With Honey Masterlist

A Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader Series

Part of the Outta Nowhere AU

Main Masterlist

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

1. Digging For Gold

2. Ouch, That Stings

3. Honey Trap

4. Under Pressure

5. From the Ground Up

6. San Antonio Stroll

7. Have a Cow

8. Golden Hour

9. The Other Side of the Fence

10. When a Friend Asks for Help

11. Barn Burner

12. Tippin’ Tractors, Takin’ Names

Drabbles & Extras

Hop to It

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themorningsunshine · 1 year

Text

Brownies

Pie eyed over you : Chapter 2

Mafia - Baker AU

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Previous Part

Pairing - Mafia!Bucky x Baker!Reader

Warnings - Nothing in this one

Word count - 3.9k

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

He looks around once before stepping out of the car.

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

Not a lot of changes in 5 days, Bucky

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

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

But there was something about this bakery.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So, what do you want today?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

＊*•̩̩

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Bucky really hopes it's true.

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

He comes back a week later.

And the week after that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You wish, James."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He is hot."

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

"You know what I mean."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did he care so much?

Next part

1K notes · View notes

generalmoonpolice · 6 months

Text

i love you (stuckyxreader)

A/N: Actually my first post so feedback is super welcome. :)

Warnings: angst to fluff, mentions of gunshot, mentions of blood, hospital (i think thats it)

w/c: 554

Fingers gripped my cheeks roughly as I felt my head being lifted onto something warm. Another set of hands pressed into the wound on my stomach which sent copious amounts of pain through my body. I left out a groan in protest and heard my name being called out, though it sounded distant.

“Y/N?! Baby can you hear me?”

Even though my eyelids felt like they were glued shut, I forced myself to crack them open slightly, to be met with deep blue eyes that belonged to Steve. Fear, anger and relief were only some of the emotions that swirled in the depths of blue as he stroked my hair softly. It took me a few moments, but from the corner of my eye, my vision picked up on Bucky pressing his hands into my side, trying to stop the blood from leaving my body. It was only then, when I remembered the bullet that had hit me.

Tears began to fall from my green eyes and my body began to shake as the weight of the scenario hit me.

I was going to die.

Steve gently brushed the tears away, speaking to me but I couldn’t hear him. It felt like I was underwater. I whispered a soft “I love you” to Steve, watching as his eyes darken and his face filled with rage. My eyes met Bucky’s and I repeated the statement as he began to shake his head.

Everything slowly started to dim, and I felt hands frantically shake me before the world went dark, the pain vanishing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first thing that hit me was the smell. It smelt overly medicinal and sterile. Confusion filled me as I pried my eyes open, wincing at the bright white lights that shined above me. I let out a moan as my body was overwhelmed with pain. The sharp throbbing from my side accompanied with the dull headache made me nauseous.

Suddenly, Bucky’s face appeared above me, his eyes swimming with concern as squeezed my hand to make sure I was really awake before leaning over and pecking my cheek.

“How are you feeling, doll?” He asked with a raspy voice. I went to answer him but my throat wouldn’t cooperate, instead sending me into a fit of coughs. Immediately, Bucky lunged forward to grab the water that rested on the small table beside me. He helped me drink some water and I cherished the way the cool liquid ran down my throat, easing the ache.

“I’m sore.” I merely replied, before looking around the room.

“Where’s Stevie?” I asked the man in front of me. Bucky opened his mouth to answer before the door flung open, making me flinch at the sound. I was met with the sight of Steve looking at me with wide eyes as he quickly made his way over to me. His eyes roamed along my body as if he was expecting to see any new injuries before he pressed a firm kiss to my forehead.

“I’m—We’re sorry sweetheart.” They said as their heads hung in shame.

Shaking my head I grabbed each of their hands before pressing a kiss to the back of each.

“I love you.” I repeated to them giving them a small smile, before I closed my eyes and got some more well-needed rest.

246 notes · View notes

neonovember · 27 days

Text

Deceit

Mafia!au x Steve Rogers

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

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

divider by @firefly-graphics !

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

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

Bucky is quiet the ride over, dark steel greys surveying the road eagerly, like he was waiting for someone, or something to give him a reason to jump out and spill blood.

The wheel wains in his grip, and his dark hair falls over in waves, pushed back behind his ears and smelling of pine nut and mint. There's a hint of a smile on his face, he knows you're watching him.

You avert your gaze quickly, looking towards the mountain trees on either side of the asphalt road ahead.

The relief you had thought would fill you as Bucky pulls into the potholed road of your apartment is blank, and your chest fills vacant without the heat of it. Your mind is restless, and the entire ride over had given you ample time to think over everything that had happened earlier.

You had folded and unfolded every piece of information Bucky had told you about Steve and all it had done was make you feel like you were intruding, like you were given privy to something you had no right knowing. Like peeking through the cracks under closed doors as a child listening in on their parents.

Where your street had once been busy with loitering huddles of gaunt faced men, a quiet murmur settles over the ground floor of your apartment complex, all the way up to the hallway to your place.

And as you pass by a few stragglers who blanch when Bucky shifts his hard gaze towards them, stuttering over their own feet and rushing back to their alleyways, you have an inclination that it was all Steves doing.

His reach was absolute.

You didn’t know what to feel, you’ve known displacement for too long.

Separating from your betrothed, separated from the life you had been half folded into, separating from the very syllabus of your name.

The spaces between the letters get further and further as the years go by. Until you can hardly remember if your namesake is really yours, just a frightening sound that came out of your husband's mouth.

This is different though. Until now, your instinct has always been right. And yet, when you think of Steve? When you try to find footing in your gut it comes up wobbly and unsure.

Was he something more than he let on? Did he only uncover pieces of himself for his own benefit?

Bucky had told you he had lost his own wife, and young too. Forced to be exposed to the brutality of the world before he could even get a chance to indulge in youthful recklessness.

You feel a sense of empathy for him, but also, also surprise. It isn’t the murder, or your own husbands doing that causes a slight slip of your heart. The truth is much more foolish instead.

There was a time Steve was ready to forsake this entire life, live forever looking over his shoulder, turn back on tradition that was as deep as marrow, all for love.

You could laugh if you had remembered what that felt like. The thought outright unnerves you. Steve? The gluttonous leader who held sanctions of New York with an iron fist?

It drives a pit in your stomach when you think too hard about what it means.

There’s a fiery jealousy that swarms you, you had never understood the wielding power that love carried all your life. It was a feeling, just like any other was it not?

Yet it had men like Steve falling to his knees!

And all that swarms your mind is how it’s so unfair, that you’ve never experienced such a thing. That you may never will. Forced to succumb to the life that was only half yours, down a path so far the ground had changed beneath you.

What did it feel like to give in? To show all your misgivings with unabashed apprehension? To let yourself, all of it, to another person?

Anything close to a love like that had come from the faded memories of your father, his warmth and deep gritted protectiveness over you. And that had been stripped from you quicker that you were able to forsake it.

You suppose that wasn't meant to be dealt in your cards, which you had come to understand were drawn years ago. You lie to yourself, but during some nights the aching desire to feel something, to taste the deep gripping love that had caused even Steve to lose focus explodes deep in your gut.

Your longing for connection was something you hid well, and god didn’t you get awfully good at hiding these years? Fit yourself in nooks and crannies that were too small, smoothed out your jagged edges to click into the puzzle pieces.

And yet, the empathy you had silently shared, the intimate conversation you had had with Steve in your mind is stamped out with swiftness as Bucky walks you to your door.

That was then, now Steve had made it perfectly clear where he stood. The cool indifference and hardening this life caused had stolen any shine or hope that Steve may have held those years ago. Everything he did now was calculated, for the betterment of broadening his kingdom.

He might as well have died along with her.

Bucky leans against the hallway, eyes surveying the decrepit halls lit by overexerted linoleum lights. You hesitate a moment, before popping your keys into your door, twisting it this way and that to get it to open.

You flinched as the door opened wide, almost like you were expecting someone to be standing right behind it, waiting for your arrival before pouncing. You’re a child, waiting for the ghoul in the closet to jump out.

Yet all that is there is the same peeling walls of your small entryway and some shoes and a coat strewn to the side in your haste to get to the diner early those days before.

You’d much prefer the monster.

Days, it had only been days, so why did it feel like a lifetime since you stepped foot into your home?

You don’t know what you were expecting, for your apartment to change when you had been kept away from it unceremoniously? For someone to have cleaned out the dishes lying in the sink, and ruffle the pillows lying on your old sofa?

You had craved mundanity for so long, craved consistently at a time where you didn’t know which face of your husband you would meet those days.

When the monster living underneath your husband's skin would jump out.

But now, you crave something more. It simmers right under your skin, deep within your chest and its shadowy fingers flutter over every inch of you.

Your apprehension is evident by the way Bucky shifts his way towards you stuttering frame.

“Hey, I wouldn't be so keen on coming home to this place either. Those carpets don’t look that inviting" Bucky replies, there is a sight lilt in his voice as he drags his eyes across your depressing furnishing.

You cut your eyes towards him, narrowing your lids.

“Not everyone lives in an exorbitant palace you know” You gruffly reply, shuffling into your door in a way that was more spite than eagerness.

Bucky breaks out in a grin that takes up half his face, his hand stuffed into his suit pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

“Talking like a woman who hasn’t done just that half her life” Bucky replies, cocking his head to the side.

Oh right, your husband's estate that took up half of the city. One that was never, and would never be in your name.

You drop your handbag onto one of the hooks attached to the hallway, turning towards Bucky with a sigh.

“That’s different” You reply evenly

“Oh yeah? How so?” Bucky murmurs, eyes shining with a smile

“I was never welcomed in that home- house. God it would never be a home no matter how many architects and designers dressed it up. You think I escaped ‘cause it was my safe haven?” You cock your head to the side and Bucky’s face evens out. The smile adorning his features morphs back into his face as a look passes through his eyes.

“You don’t have to worry about that with Steve-”

“Oh yeah? Because he is the most upfront person to talk to. Right. This place, as depressing as it looks, is solely mine. It’s the only thing I have on this goddamn earth that hasn't been mauled and changed with my husband's fingers. Or the life he leads. You might not understand it, how important that is but-”

“I do. Trust me” Bucky replies, cutting you with and he offers you a nod that was more understanding than half the world's he promised to you.

Can I? You wonder thoughtfully. Was this just a part of some elaborate plan that Rumlow had clued you on? You were everywhere all at once, topsy turvy and turned inside out. This was the life you had to live now.

“Good” You say instead, wringing your fingers as Bucky’s phone begins to buzz from his pants pocket.

You wait for him to reach for it immediately, but he doesn't, just remains quiet as he taps his foot against the hardwood floor. There seemed to be a look of understanding that passed between you when he had racked his fist against the wall adjacent to your door.

The blues of his eyes twinkled under the sun peeking through the hallway window, and you didn’t realize it then but it was trust that shined in his eyes. Like the words he had shared with you warranted the same secrecy he held with the other men he worked with.

You had paid in flesh and blood for your silence, what more was another pound?

The ring runs through, and the silence soon returns between you both.

“I’m not going to the mouth off to half of Brooklyn that their most influential business man likes painting” You reply with a murmur, eyes darting left and right as if neighbors were listening in. Enough of them had watched you walk to your apartment door, eyes strained on Bucky and his shoes that shine too bright. Faces that had never even said hello had craned their necks as you passed, of course. Whispers of inquisition under their breath.

“I know you won’t” Bucky replies instantly. “Just- let him explain the rest of it, yeah? ‘S only fair you hear it from him”

“Fair?” You raise your eyebrows, “You’re talking about fairness now? Bullshit. If you were guided by some moral compass I wouldn't have been forced into this, you wouldn't even be in this life” You snark unconsciously.

Where does this all come from? You hadn't even raised an eyebrow at your husband, and now you were bad mouthing a man with a gun poking through his waistband. You look down, staring at the unusual stain in the hallway carpet you never quite knew what was. The anxiety and timidness you were used to coming back tenfold.

Bucky doesn't retaliate, just looks towards you with a feather-like smirk.

“I was wrong about you, y’know?” Bucky whispers, leaning in as if he were divulging in a secret he couldn't let be spoken in the open air.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re everything like Steve.” Bucky replies thoughtfully, a far away look taking over his dark features.

He’s miles away, reminiscing about parts of Steve that had been left in the dark. He looks younger than, when you notice the way his eyebrows scrunch and his locks fall flat over his face.

But it's enveloped back into Bucky in a second, a sad smile replacing his grin.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call”

Giving you one last nod, he turns back towards the hallway entrance and it takes you a few moments before you realise.

“But I don't have your number!” You call out, leaning out your door

His brown locks shift as he turns back to you

“You sure about that?” A raise of his eyebrows at the ping of your phone, waving you with two fingers.

You don't have to pull it out to know it's him. And you can't help but let out a chuckle before turning back and shutting the door firmly.

You find yourself accompanying your time scrubbing down the floorboard and yellowed walls of your home, filling your hours since Bucky had left with meager tasks. It helps you think, concentrating on little chores around the house so you don't have to think about the thoughts that rattled loudly in your mind.

It’s still well into the morning, and as the sun filters through your drapes you lean back on your heels nodding accomplished at the glint of the shining floors. The walls were an impassive yellow, never yielding no matter what cleaning products you threw at them, but beyond the old entryway carpet the apartment was lined with pristine hardwood floors that shined with a little elbow grease.

Not that shitty huh Bucky?

Wiping the sweat that had grown increasingly uncomfortable above your brow, you make way to your small enclosed kitchenette, swiping a cup from the drying rack before you watch the water fill to its glass edge. You gulp half of it down, before your much needed break is interrupted by the faint buzzing of your phone emitted from somewhere in the living room.

You forage for it quickly, searching till you find it wedged between the cracks of your couch. You pause for a moment, considering whether it might be Bucky, or Steve calling but as you see the vibrating screen of your manager's face you slide the receiver across the screen.

You brace yourself for the inevitable screech of her voice, you haven't been to work in days, an irregular for you considering the mountain of bills that left your bank account squandered each month. You needed this job, and now Steve hand upended your life, you fear it’ll slip through your fingers.

Manager calls, you pick up, she’s very quiet and apprehensive and is all sweet in a a way you remember she never had been before. She’s almost scared to talk to you, asking about a shift you could cover and you say yea without thinking. You need a distraction. Even if Steve had made it clear you no longer needed to worry about work.

“Hello?” You reply, eyebrows furrowing at the beat of silence that fills the space usually used up by ** loud un yielding demands.

“Y/N? Hey, how are you doing” Replies carefully, as if choosing her words.

“What?” You blurt out

You can’t help the confusion that puzzles your voice, who was this person? In the months you had spent working at that dead end job not once has she ever asked how you were. Not when you had spent half your break with your head in your toilet the first few months you had escaped. A cat on edge, nerves frazzled by even the slightest heavy stamp of a dress shoe.

What had changed?

You don’t have to kid yourself, you know the answer deep down. Him, it always goddamn is.

“Sorry, uhm I’m been doing good” You reply “I apologise for kind of just disappearing on you and the Diner”

“Oh that? That’s totally fine, once your friends cleared that up” 8 gulped, the sharp exhale of breath filling the receiver at the mention of this friend of yours.

“Friend?” You reply

“Don’t worry about it, I’m glad your doing alright. Uh-, so uhm ’s sister dropped her kids off at 4am last night at hers, she cant her shift. And * got SAT prep. Can you fill in if possible it’s totally okay if you can’t, I needed to stay back a few anyway-”

“Sure”

You needed the distraction, you felt stifled in the walls of your apartment. It wasn’t meant to be a prison, and yet the only time you felt truly free now was when you slammed the door behind you.

“-oh, Oh thank you! Thank you so much. If you could come in at 12, it’s just the afternoon shift. And if you need to leave for whatever reason it’s totally fine you don’t even have to tell me-“

“Mare?

“Yes?”

“Relax. I miss the diner and it’s crappy linoleum lights anyways”

Mare snorts into the receiver “The teams missing you too”

After passing a few more instructions on the wave of Russian tourists coming through Brooklyn this time of year you let your phone clatter onto the coffee table.

Sure, your manager could be a pain in the ass but being passive aggressive didn’t warrant a mob leader holding you at gunpoint.

You wonder what Steve had said to her to cause her to be this shaken up, she was the most stubborn woman you’ve ever met. It couldn’t have been easy to have her yield, at least not without some sort of real threat.

Especially in New York.

You rifle through your bag before grabbing your work uniform. The musty smell of old oil and grease makes you throw it haphazardly into the laundry basket before reaching for a clean shirt.

You try to look presentable, washing your face with the bathroom tap that never not juts out cold water. You avoid your reflection when you pay your face dry, which is interestingly enough, hard to do since it’s well..your face.

Drawing the wisps of coils that spring free you pull your hair back into a bun. You don’t bother with makeup, it never quite sat right on your face when you did it. Reaching for your bag and throwing your phone and the rest of your miscellaneous, you hurry down the steps of your apartment complex.

Popping in your earphones as you step into the train carriage, you memorise the dock and pull of the train ride till you feel your stop. Your music swims through your veins, and you breathe it in before opening your eyes to the tram doors opening.

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 2 years

Text

RELIGION- S.G ROGERS

Pairing: Normad! Steve Rogers x Innocent/ Virgin! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Steve’s prayers have finally been answered after all these years, as he finds you waiting for him in the church he calls home. Captivated by him and his charm, you get swept up in his arms, to soon find out Steve isn't the saint he painted himself out to be.

Warnings: SMUT, HEAVY daddy kink, HEAVY innocence/ corruption kink, breeding kink, petnames, degradation kink, heavy praise kink, dumbification kink, finger sucking, teasing, masturbation mentioned,almost like training in a way?, cumplay and gagging implied, blowjob implied, smoking, steve is kinda soft!dark here

Notes: “ cause you’re my religion, you’re how im livin... when all my friends say i should take some space...well i cant envision that for a minute- when im down on my knees you’re how i pray” - religion, lana del rey

the chapel: a playlist

Steve had not expected to see an angel at the end of the isle, when he stepped through the gleaming oak doors.

He had been to this church many times in his life, its worn wooden pews and golden crosses familiar to him like the back of his own hand. He had sat in those very pews that lay in rows, no other person around to bother him as he would stare up at the marble statue by the organ, or with his head between his hands as he stared at the rustic floor that so many others had walked before him.

But he had never seen an angel, contained in these walls.

Steve wasn't an overly religious man. But he had needed something- anything to believe in with the insanity that had managed to slither its way into his life, a snake with venom so poisonous he had found his way here again.

It appears he had found something new, something else to believe in, he thought, watching your little frame stand at the end of the deep plush carpet that had guided his way towards you.

The sunlight that filtered in through the stained glass windows shimmered around you like a halo, lighting up your features like the diamonds. It was mesmerizing, the way it shinned down upon you, focusing on you like a spotlight.

Moving with you, as you tilted your head back, soaking in the dimmed rays that made their way through the images plastered on the glass.

You looked up at the lanterns that hung upon chains from the high arched ceilings, the wooden beams their support as they flickered.

“It’s beautiful, isn't it?” you hummed softly, feeling a presence near you, his aura dark and mysterious.

Enchanting.

Steve had found his way next to you, arm close enough to touch, warm body heat rolling off him in waves to wrap around your skin, soothing the goosebumps that had broken out across your arms.

Steve was fixated on you- truly.

Your voice had sounded like the sweet strings of a harp, being strummed in perfect harmony. He had wanted more.

“It is.” he spoke softly, voice husky as he stared down at you.

He didn't know you were talking about the marble statue that adorned the dais, arms reaching up towards heaven, as if that would save him from the tears that spilled across his pained face.

Steve was talking about you.

You turned, little white dress brushing against his thigh as you smiled. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of you, your eyes twinkling like stars in the night, smile showing your little dimples in the hazy light. You were better than he had ever imagined, a sweet, innocent soul.

One he wanted to corrupt.

“ He looks in pain, in a way. Or sad. But it’s beautiful, when people cry.” you sighed, looking up at Steve in wonder. As if he was the angel who had flown in, had come and saved the day.

“We’re all in pain, are we not? But many of us shape that pain into beauty.” he nodded, hand reaching up to wrap a finger around a stray curl that had draped across your cheekbone.

You leaned into his gentle touch, though his hands were calloused. His hands were beautiful, as you could tell they had been in pain. They had carried weights they shouldn't have had to carry. You felt safe with Steve, despite his dark demeanour.

He was soft with you. Gentle.

“What’s your name?” he whispered, as if he was unsure if he should be asking. “Y/N.” you smiled, glancing back over to the altars, peering at the candles that continued to burn, wax dripping and spilling onto the tables. “I’m Steve.”

A pretty name, for a pretty man… you thought.

You had to focus on something, anything else but those blue orbs that threatened to swallow you whole. Or you’d drown. And you weren't so sure you’d want to be saved.

“I’ve never seen you around before, angel.”

Angel.

The name alone was enough to send shivers down your spine, despite the mugginess of the dry summer heat. “ The door was closed. I opened it. Now I’m here.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now I’m here.

Those words rang through his head like the bell in the tower, striking at six. Twelve. Nine. Then six again.

Somehow, through the endless amounts of prayers he had whispered to the universe, to the gods and goddesses, you had appeared. He had begged for salvation.

You, it seemed, were just that.

Steve saw you each time he slid through those old rustic wooden doors, standing in front of that very statue, by the burning candles and crosses.

Almost as if you were waiting for him.

It was never on a Sunday, but a Wednesday, an empty chapel day. The day of expression, and communication. Steve often would slide up behind you, as he did the very first meeting, intertwining your hand with his with a gentle squeeze.

Some days he would tug you along, sliding into a pew with you to hold you closer, or he’d take you through the back way- to the overgrown gardens. Other days, it was the two of you staring at the stained glass, or the statues, in silence.

You liked both days. You liked any days you could be with Steve.

“You know I’m not even religious?” you had told him one day, stretching your legs in front of you from your seat on the wooden bench, flexing your feet. He had just raised his eyebrow. “Why were you here then angel?” Steve had asked as you toyed with his shirt.

“I was following a little white cat, but he left before I could pick him up. He led me here. Then you showed up, so I stayed.”

Steve had liked that answer. He had liked it a whole lot.

Wednesday meetings had turned into Wednesday and Friday meetings. Then Saturday. Then Sunday.

Those meetings had changed from the church’s grounds to little cafes and parks, old Hollywood cinemas and roller rinks. Those “meetings” had turned into dates.

And one of the dates turned into Steve sweeping you up in his arms under the pale moonlight, pouring his very heart and soul into a kiss that left you dizzy.

Now the two of you were here.

Here, on his bed, the golden sunlight streaming down on Steve in rays, like they did in the chapel- showcasing the strands of rich honey in his beard. You were sleeping soundly on his chest, rising and falling with his breathing as he propped up against the headboard, petting your hair lovingly.

Even in sleep, you clutched to him tightly, as if you were scared he’d leave you.

Steve learned very early that your love language was touch. Innocent touches.

Everything about you was innocent.

You were attached to him at the hip, always holding him in some manner, or tending to him, whether that was playing with his hair or kissing his neck, leaving little smears of your lipgloss on his skin.

Nothing more than that though.

You had told him early on in the relationship you were a virgin, and you had wanted to take things slow, as you weren't used to getting attention- only giving it. Steve was completely fine with this of course, knowing your soul was much too innocent, too pure to be handled by anyone else.

Steve wanted nothing more than to take care of you, to love and cherish you. But sometimes, his thoughts would turn south. He hated himself for it, he truly did. But how could he think clearly, with you looking like that?

So beautiful, so innocent and carefree.

Sliding his hand down, he slowly brushed your back, resting his hand gently on your ass, squeezing tenderly.

“Mmm…” you stirred in your sleep, readjusting yourself as he chuckled. “Little steps for a little girl hmm?” he cooed, patting your flesh softly as his hand made its way back to your back, rubbing circles as he listened to your calm breathing, your body still deep in its slumber.

He wanted to corrupt you.

He wanted his darkness, his desires and needs to fill you to the brim, until you were spilling over with want and neediness.

Little steps Steve. Little steps.

“Don’t worry angel, we’ll get you all trained for me soon.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It had started off on the couch, on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. You listened to the sound of the rain pattering down the windows blending with the vinyl that spun on the vintage player.

Perched upon Steve's lap, you watched him intently, drumming your figures against his lean biceps, your nails giving him a soothing scratch. You looked so little, so fragile as he seated you on top of him, and he adored it.

He was hesitant to do what he was about to do, but all logical thoughts left his brain as you peered up at him, doe eyes wide.

“Can you open your mouth for me please angel?” he asked gently. You tilted your head, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Open your mouth? Why would he want you to open your mouth?

He wasn't helping you brush your teeth, and he wasn't spooning ice cream between your plump lips.

Despite this, you obeyed, mouth opening slightly. You listened to Steve, you knew that he knew what was best for you. He had reminded you time and time again, and you were thankful for it. Steve could sense your hesitation, watching you part your lips only slightly.

“Good girl!” he smiled, seeing your cheeks flush, your thighs shifting as you squirmed in delight at the praise.

He knew about it since the very first meeting, sensing your body language whenever he would compliment you, or praise you for your actions.

God, he couldn't wait to tap into that even more.

“Wider.. atta girl.” he cooed, slipping his two fingers past your parted lips, making your eyes widen in surprise. “Just trust me baby okay? You’re doing such a good, good job. Just suck on em, justttt like that.” he murmured, watching as you slowly relaxed your jaw, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked on his fingers like a pacifier.

Your eyelids felt heavy as you sucked, swirling your tongue around his digits. It was relaxing, you realised. You didn't know why exactly he was making you do this, but you couldn't complain about how it was making you feel.

“What a big girl eh? Doin it all by herself.” he smiled as you moved your hands to wrap around his wrist. He slid his fingers out with a soft pop!, watching the string of your saliva stick to his fingers from your lips.

“Good girl angel. My beautiful angel.” he said, kissing your neck as you giggled, praising you until you were a squirming mess.

Rewarding you.

It became a daily routine, those little moments of serenity. Positive reinforcement- is what it was called, he discovered. Gifting you little rewards, things you liked whenever you did what he asked, so you’d do it more, and more.

It worked, and it worked well.

Pretty soon, you’d trot up to Steve at the same time everyday, perching up on his lap to take his fingers. He’d slowly push them deeper and deeper, so you’d be ready for him, on your knees.

But not to pray. Never to pray.

Steve tried it with other things, like calling him daddy. What you were supposed to be calling him.

It had slipped out when the two of you were having a heated makeout session, his hand tangled in your hair as teeth and tongues clashed. “Stev-”

“It’s Daddy to you angel. Only Daddy, mkay?” You had nodded slowly, bringing your hand up to touch your swollen lips. “Daddy?” He had just smiled. “Yes angel, daddy. Makes me so happy, when you call me that.” He slid his hands up your skirt, knuckles brushing your inner thighs, making you purr like a kitten.

So far, his tactics had been working like a charm. You had been obeying him, trailing him around the house just for the small chance you’d be able to play with his large, veiny hands, or be able to wrap your arms around his torso and squeeze him like a teddy bear.

You had even begun to call him daddy without even realising it, the name slipping out of your mouth as smooth as silk. Little did you know hard you made him each time, your little actions causing him to grind against you subtly.

It was torture. The sin that littered his thoughts whenever you neared, whenever the sweet, sickly smell of your arousal clung to his skin, making it heat and burn.

Steve needed release. He needed it now.

You were already in a vulnerable state of mind at the time, the hour growing late, your body tired and limp. He watched you from his armchair in the corner of the bedroom, exhaling the cigarette smoke from between his lips, watching it vacate through the opened window as the curtains swayed gently in the cool night breeze.

You watched him intently, legs clenching together at the sight of him manspreading, head lolled back against the soft velvet. “Can I have a drag?” you asked sweetly, shuffling up on your knees, the bed dipping slightly under your weight.

“Little girls like you don't get cigs angel. They’re not good for you.” he chuckled, watching you pout. “But you get them!” you huffed. He tapped his smoke on the edge of the ash tray, letting the stray ash fall as he shifted up from his seat.

He made his way across the room in two strides, sliding the cigarette between your parted lips. You inhaled deeply, smoke feeling your lungs, choking you. You coughed and spat as you exhaled, the smog burning your throat.

“See? It’s yucky.” he smirked, putting out the but. “Why’d you let me then?” you asked, wincing at the stale taste.

“Cause you gotta learn angel. When I tell you no, it means no. For good reason at that.” he laughed, flicking your nose with a smile.

“Hmph.” you huffed, forgetting about the bitter taste as he lightly pushed you down upon the silk sheets, making your hair sprawl out around you. “You’re so beautiful angel.” he whispered, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing your bottom lip, tugging it down occasionally.

“Yeah daddy?” you blushed, feeling your core heat at the praise, your body going taut under his touch as you shifted your thighs together for friction.

It didn't go unnoticed by Steve. He smirked.

“Yeah, angel. Such a beautiful, beautiful girl for me. My girl.” he emphasised, breath getting caught in his throat as you slipped his thumb in your mouth, sucking on it softly as you peered up at him innocently.

“Wanna be your good girl.” you smiled, licking the saliva off his thumb as your hands came up to brush the hair that curled at the back of his neck, the strands soft as silk between your fingers. “You wanna be my good girl? Then can you answer something for me? Truthfully? You know daddy doesn't like lies.”

You nodded, eyes wide.

“Do you get those tingles around me angel? The ones you told me about earlier, the ones that make you feel all warm n fuzzy?” he cooed, biting his lip as you nodded, squirming under him. “Can you show daddy where?”

You grabbed his hand, guiding it down to your quivering cunt, sliding it under the slip of your nightgown. “R’here daddy.” you whined, moaning as he tapped his two fingers against your clit.

“Oh angel, you’re awfully wet. Is this all for me?” he tsked, grinning as you bucked your hips up into his touch, tugging his hair tighter. “S’all for you daddy…”

“You gonna let daddy make it all better? S’not good for little girls like you to be gettin this all worked up.” he pouted, mock sympathy dripping from his words like acid.

“Want you to fix it daddy, make me all better. Please?” you whispered, lapping up each drop of the stinging liquid that dripped from his tongue like a woman starved.

“How could I say no to a pretty face like that?” he smiled, stroking your cheek, his hands tracing over the plains and valleys of your body, watching your breasts perk up, nipples pebbling from under the sheer white lace of your dress.

“Mmm daddy whatta doin?” you asked timidly, curious to what the man above you was doing, his hands resting on your thighs. “Gonna make it all better angel. Now be a good girl and present to daddy, attaaa girl.” he cooed as you allowed him to spread your legs apart and flip your nightgown up, revealing your soaked panties to him.

“Just a dumb lil baby arent you? I gotta do everything for you?” You shook your head, watching as he began to slide the flimsy fabric down, down, down past your thighs to the tips of your toes.

“S’fine, you know I like takin care of you angel eyes. But tonight, I’m gonna take these-” He dangled the thong from his fingers, setting it down on the bedside table beside him. “And I’m goin stroke my cock with em, and you’re goin watch angel. Then, after daddys got his cream all over em, I’m gonna shove it between those pretty little lips of yours, okay?”

You nodded, purely dumbfounded. This side of Steve, you had never seen before. Not that you were complaining- of course. You were just… new to this.

Very new.

“Yes daddy.”

“Good girl angel. You’re never gonna leave this house unless you got my cum in your panties, gotta stuff you full of me allll the time.” he grinned, pupils blown as he took in your beautiful body, all splayed out for him.

Like an angel.

You whimpered as he took his fingers, running the digits across your slit, watching you clench around air as he teased you. “This is mine now, okay angel? My fuckhole. It’s daddys property now.”

You moaned at his words alone, your head lolling against the sheets as he slid off his shirt, the dim glow of the candles making his chiselled abs gleam faintly. The sight had you sucking in air through your teeth, his muscles flexing as he bent your legs causing you to spiral.

“Are we gonna do what we always do? With your fingers?” you begged, hiccuping as he patted your puffy folds tenderly with the palm of his hand. “Something so much better baby. You’re gonna love it so much, it’ll make the tingles feel all better. Daddys here now, takin care of you just like he should.”

You watched as he unbuckled his belt, the jangle of it making you jump as he shrugged off his jeans and boxers, exposing his hard, aching cock to you.

“ It's so big daddy!” you whispered, watching as he smirked in delight. “S’not gonna fit in there…” you trailed off, gasping as he rubbed his cock against your soaked folds, moaning as he tapped your clit firmly, his precum mixing with your juices.

“Oh we’ll make it fit angel. How else is daddy supposed to take care of you hmm?” You whimpered, watching as he neared your entrance.

“Daddy m’scared.” you confessed, gripping his bicep tightly, crescent moons forming across his soft, smooth skin as he ever so slowly pushed the tip in.

“Shhh, shh that's a good girl. I know you’re scared angel but daddys here now, that's it honey.” he praised, slowly easing in, stretching you as you cried out. “You gotta relax for me angel, or else it won't feel good to you. And we don't want that do we? Daddy's little fucktoy needs to feel good.” he cooed, encouraging you to take deep, shaky breaths as you allowed him to fill you up, your walls hugging him like a glove.

“Daddy s’big-” you cried, tears falling from your doe eyes, sliding down your flushed cheeks as he seating himself fully in you.

“This is how it's gonna be from now on angel, I gotta keep you filled all the time. You gotta keep daddy nice and warm.” he teased, leaning down to brush a soft, tender kiss on your cheeks, lapping up the salty tears that lay there.

“You’re doing so well for me baby. I’m so proud of you.” he whispered, tenderly kissing along your jaw as he slid out slowly, making you gasp. “Proud of me-e?” you asked, moaning as he thrusted slowly back into you, his hips picking up an easy rhythm as you threw your head back in pleasure.

“So proud angel. Hey, hey eyes on me okay? I’m right here, I’m with you angel. We’re gonna go to heaven together, you and I.”

“S’good daddy. Feels so good-d.” you hiccuped, the pain turning to pleasure as your legs trembled, muscles turning limp as he rocked into you, hissing at the way you’d clench around him tightly.

“Told you I’d make you feel good angel eyes. D-daddy always knows.” his breath caught as your nails raked down his arms, tugging him even closer as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “Wanna fill you full, stuff you full of my cum. You want that angel?”

“Yes oh gods!” you screamed, heavenly fire caressing and licking down your spine as your core churned, the feelings of pure pleasure overwhelming your senses.

“Cum for me angel. Cum for daddy.” he whispered, voice husky in your ear, echoing off the walls as you wailed his name in bliss.

You shattered under him, the pieces of you snapping off with each thrust, glistening on the sheets like broken glass. It was heaven, the way he made you feel. Your orgasm escaped you with a gentle tug, your vision turning starry as Steve’s hips shuttered.

“Fuck angel… look attcha, milkin me dry.” he cooed, watching your juices squirt on his cock, coating him. “Daddy need you-” you moaned, screaming as his grip harshened, a final thrust before he came with a grunt of your name, followed by endless praises.

“Oh angel, my sweet angel…” he whispered, watching your body shake and squirm under him, your breath coming in short little gasps from the stimulation your body just endured.

He was so proud of you. So proud of his little girl for taking him all, for pleasing him.

“We’re gonna get you on your knees soon honey okay? Just like mass.”

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