#mafia!steve rogers imagine

[bucksangel]

you taste like suburbia

pairing: mafia!stucky x reader (poly), john walker x reader but not for long

word count: 6.4k

summary: your lousy boyfriend John Walker owes quite a bit of money to some pretty shady people. And since he doesn’t have the means to pay, he’s brought you along to a negotiation to meet them - and hopefully entice them into accepting a different form of payment.

warnings: 18+, smut, dub-con kind of, a tiny bit of stalking/dark behavior (it’s only hinted at), voyeurism i guess?, vaginal fingering, oral (f & m receiving), threesome, poly relationship, petnames (princess, kitten, beautiful), daddy kink, sir kink, unprotected p in v, a little bit of misogyny (not from stucky), not john walker friendly, mentioned verbal abuse, mention of murder (you have to squint and turn your head 90 degrees)

a/n: this is based off this post and @crazyunsexycool ‘s very amazing comments (title is from ‘suburbia’ by devon again)

tip jar | masterlist

“It’s simple, really.” The men across from you have been staring you down this whole time, eyes barely leaving your body and that’s only to occasionally glance at the man sitting next to you. And though they’re looking at you, you know their words aren’t directed your way. No. It’s for John.

John Walker; your shitty boyfriend who, apparently, has got himself into a lot of trouble with some pretty shady people. You don’t know much, you just know that he has a debt to pay and he doesn’t have the funds.

And you’re not stupid, you know how this will go. Your relationship with John started good, great in fact, but then he fell back into his old gambling ways a few months in. You wanted to leave, to kick him to the curb the moment he asked you for money to cover some bills. But you were too kind-hearted for your own good and felt the need to help him just because you loved him. But the deeper into trouble he’s gotten the less he’s actually cared about you, too focused on getting his debts paid off so he doesn’t get a bullet in his head.

Thus, you’re here. Forced to wear that dark red, wrap-around dress that shows just enough to be desired in the hopes that will entice the men across from you into accepting a different form of payment. Fifteen minutes into the ‘meeting’ you can already tell that they’re going to accept. And you don’t really know what to do in this situation, you know you don’t really have a say in how this plays out, but some part of you doesn’t really mind. Part of you is glad you’ll finally be free from John’s bullshit.

It just helps that the men your boyfriend owes money to are extremely attractive. Both men don dark black suits, white button-ups, and sleek black ties. And the brunette - Bucky, maybe? - smirks when he catches your eye after having been staring at his hand grasping a cigarette for a few moments before glancing up at his face. With a wink, he turns his head towards his partner - Steve, if you remember correctly.

“You owe us quite a bit of money, but you already knew that. We also know that you don’t have the means to pay us.”

From beside you, you can feel John shaking in his seat. With just a glance in his direction, you can see the beads of sweat forming around his hairline at Steve’s commanding tone.

“We’re assuming that’s why you brought her, isn’t it?” With that question, both men look back at you, the hunger in their eyes is prominent. And part of you wants to cower in your chair, to wrap your arms around your body and hide from their intense gazes. But a bigger part of you likes it, craves being desired. Lord knows John hasn’t looked at you like that in a long while.

“Um,” John stops himself, seems to not know what exactly to say. But then Bucky raises one of his eyebrows and John is quick to continue. “Y-Yes, sirs.”

Steve hums, bringing up his glass to take a long sip of his liquor of choice. Bucky takes a short drag of his cigarette before speaking up.

“And if we don’t accept the arrangement?”

John starts really vibrating out of his seat now, both of his legs bouncing furiously. One of his hands rubs over the back of his other, and he gulps loudly.

“I-I don’t… Please. I don’t have the money right now. And, she’s good in bed. She’ll listen to whatever you say, so she’ll please you guys whenever you need, she can even cook and clean so she can be a maid for you too.”

His words make you want to vomit, talking about you like you’re nothing more than a whore, a piece of meat to be passed around and commanded. Your eyes narrow, glaring over at your asshole boyfriend as you begin to pick at your fingernails with a mixture of anxiety and anger.

Steve surprises you by slamming his glass down onto the dark oak desk in front of him, some of the liquid inside spilling out.

“And what makes you think you can talk about a woman like that?” His voice is booming, and the tension in the air is palpable. It’s hard to hide the smile that wants to spread across your face, but you manage to not show your smugness when John sits up straight and begins sputtering out an apology.

“Enough,” Bucky says, taking another long drag and then putting out the cigarette. As he exhales out the smoke, he makes sure to blow it in your boyfriend’s direction, and you have to look down at your lap to prevent the men from seeing your smirk at the show of dominance.

With a glance at his partner, they seem to have a silent conversation before Steve nods, looking back at John while Bucky looks at you.

“We’ll accept. If nothing else then to get her away from you.”

Even with the passive-aggressive comment, you can see the way John’s body visibly relaxes, and can hear the sigh of relief that passes through his lips.

You on the other hand don’t quite know what to do. Yeah, you’re glad you’ve found a way out of this toxic relationship, but you’re also very aware that this major adjustment in your life was made without your consent or input. This thought immediately makes all the satisfaction drain from your body, and you keep your gaze averted so the men across from you can’t see the underlying fear growing in your eyes.

Because you don’t know these men. You’ve never even heard of them until now. All you know is that anyone connected to the dark underworld that is the mafia couldn’t possibly be a good person. For a moment, you’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t realize all of the men are staring at you.

“Wh-What?” Your throat is a little dry due to not having spoken in a while, and you try your hardest not to let your voice waver.

“Are you okay with this?” Steve asks with an uncharacteristically soft smile and calm voice. He’s asking you how you feel about this? Why? Shouldn’t this be the end, the part where your boyfriend leaves and you uproot your life to live as payment for his debts?

Apparently not.

“Why are you asking me?” Confusion is laden in your tone, your eyebrows furrowing and your fingers picking at your nails even harsher.

“Because, beautiful,” Bucky starts, waving to a red-headed woman who suddenly appears with water for you. “We don’t want you thinking this is purely transactional. You’re not property, you’re a grown woman and you deserve to have a say in your life. If you don’t want to come with us, that’s okay. We’ll extend our contract with your dear boyfriend.”

Steve speaks up next.

“But if you do want to come with us, we’ll show you how real men treat ladies.” His eyes grow hungry for half a second, then return to that unnerving adoring gaze.

Everything grows silent for a moment, everyone awaiting your answer. As you look over at John, his face is contorted in fear of what they’ll do if you deny them, and anger - silently demanding that you say yes. And, looking over at him, you finally realize he’s never been who you thought he was. Even when he was being an asshole, when he would steal from you, when he would yell and scream and verbally abuse you because he lost even more money, you were so blinded by trying to help him that you couldn’t accept that you were being used.

Now, you know. You know that even if you don’t know these men, the fact that they’re even asking for your opinion says more than anything John could ever do. With one final look at him, you sigh, looking Steve in the eyes.

“I’ll go with you.”

Not only does John visibly relax, but you can see some of the tension leave Bucky and Steve’s bodies, almost like they were hoping that you would say yes.

“It’s settled then.” Steve’s smile turns into a sly smirk, and he momentarily shifts his gaze to John. “Your debt has been paid.”

John tries thanking him, tries to thank the men for sparing his life, but Bucky cuts him off by clearing his throat.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with that comment, though.”

With that, Steve nods at the redhead who comes to stand behind John. In one swift movement, she puts one hand on his shoulder and one hand grabs the inside of his elbow, and she twists. The sounds of his bones cracking are loud, but his screams are louder, his cries of pain reverberating throughout the office. And, as much as you want to feel bad for him, you can’t find it in you to do so. The last two years have been hell for you, and seeing him in pain feels a little like payback for all the pain he caused you. You simply sit there and stare as the woman grabs both of his shoulders and hauls him up, ignoring his cries while dragging him to the door.

The woman follows him out, leaving just you and the two men. For a moment, neither of you speaks, almost like you’re all waiting for the other person to say something.

“So, um. What happens now?” You look at Bucky as he stands and walks around the desk, holding his hand out and encouraging you to grab it. Once you do, you let him help you stand and move you so you’re nearly pressed against his body, a heavy, black metal hand settling on your waist as he brings your hand up to kiss your knuckles.

“Now we take you home,” Bucky says softly, staring deep into your eyes and tugging his bottom lip between his teeth.

“We’ll have our associates pick up your things,” Steve says, suddenly standing so close behind you that you can feel the heat from his body. His large hands settle on your shoulders, gently massaging your muscles and allowing any remaining tension in your body to slip away.

“And you won’t have to worry about anything for the rest of your life.” Bucky presses his body against yours further, holding your gaze for a long while before he leans down to place a delicate kiss on your cheekbone, very close to your ear. “Your only concern will be taking care of us, and letting us take care of you.”

In order to not moan you have to clear your throat, focusing all of your attention on not melting into a puddle at their feet. Steve leans down to place a kiss on your other cheek, sighing softly as though he’s been waiting for this. You hesitantly place one hand on Bucky’s arm and one on Steve’s hand, and he immediately threads your fingers together.

“Home?” Bucky asks, pulling away to look into your eyes.

“Home,” You say without a second thought, already liking the idea of being with them, being theirs.

____________

You all get back to their mansion, because of course they live in a mansion, about an hour later. It’s in a woodsy and remote area of upstate New York with no neighbors for a good two miles, and upon driving through the gates and down the long driveway your eyes go wide, everything is just so big. The fountain in the front yard stands almost as tall as the three-story house, several expensive-looking cars are parked off to the left near what you assume is the garage, and you’re pretty sure you can spot a greenhouse in the backyard.

As soon as the car is stopped two men appear on either side of it, opening the doors for Steve and Bucky and letting them step out. A woman - the same redhead from earlier - comes up to your door and opens it, reaching out her hand and guiding you out.

“I’m Natasha,” She says with a welcoming smile on her face. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“What do you mean ‘finally’?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, jumping slightly when an arm wraps around your waist.

“It’s nothing, beautiful.” When you look up at Bucky, you see him giving Natasha a look that you can tell is a silent demand to stop talking. Then, he turns to you, pulling you close to his side. “Come on, let’s get you settled in.”

Despite a spark of uneasiness popping up, you walk with him, Steve appearing by your other side and taking your hand in his and once again threading your fingers together. He gives you a warm smile, squeezing your hand. “We’ll give you a tour later, for now, we just want you to relax.”

As you walk through the entrance, your eyes open even wider than before. Not only is the foyer huge, but the chandelier that hangs from the ceiling illuminates the area beautifully and your heels make clicking noises on the pristine tile floor. You let your eyes wander as you walk up the grand staircase, admiring the artwork on the walls while you’re led through a large living area and down a hallway to a door.

And when they open it, dear lord you just want to scream. It’s bigger than the one-bedroom apartment that you shared with John. There’s a huge canopy bed off to the left, a massive TV mounted on the opposite wall, and a reading nook against the floor-to-ceiling window with a long bookshelf on the wall next to it - ending a few feet from the bed. There’s plants hanging from the ceiling and potted ones in each corner of the room, and an open door off to the right gives you a peak at what must be the bathroom but resembles more of a spa.

It’s absolutely gorgeous and it makes you feel at home.

“How do you like it?” Steve asks, both men tugging and leading you further into the room when they notice you’ve frozen while taking everything in.

“I love it,” You say quickly, smiling at them as you walk towards the bed so you can run your fingers along the silk bed sheets. “It’s beautiful.”

“Good.” Bucky appears behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his chin on your shoulder. “You deserve beautiful things.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, warmth filling your body. These men are already showing you more affection than John had during your entire relationship, and it simultaneously hurts your heart that you stayed with an ungrateful and uncaring man for so long while also making you happy that you’ve fallen into the laps of men with high standards of how to treat a woman.

“We’ll let you rest up, now.” Steve comes up to you and works his arm between your back and Bucky’s body so he can hold your waist. He leans down and presses a tender kiss to your forehead, bringing up his other hand to cradle your head so he can really breathe in your scent.

“Wait.”

Immediately Bucky and Steve pull away, and when you turn around and look up at them you can see the concern written on their face.

“This is my room?”

Bucky nods, his eyebrows furrowed. “Yes. Is it okay? We can redecorate if you want, just tell us what you like and we’ll do it.”

You shake your head, placing one hand on Bucky’s chest and the other on Steve’s.

“N-no. No, I love it. I just thought…” You trail off, biting your lip. You’re not too sure how to phrase your thoughts, but you try your hardest when the men continue to stare at you. “I guess I just thought you would want me to sleep in your room.”

Bucky sighs and pulls you close, placing one hand on the back of your head while Steve saddles up beside him to grasp your hip.

“While we would absolutely love having you in our bed,” Bucky stops to swipe his tongue along his bottom lip and you have to fight the urge to lean up on your toes to bite it. “We’re not going to force you to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“We know this is a big adjustment,” Steve says, smiling down at you when you look at him. “So we don’t want to make you do something that would make you uncomfortable.”

The men go silent, as do you, allowing you to process their words. They’re right, of course. This is all so new for you, and even though you’re more than ready - you’ve been deprived of physical contact and a good orgasm for a while - you know it wouldn’t be a good decision to jump into a relationship like this so soon after leaving your ex.

Fuck good decisions.

“What if…” You trail off, biting your lip nervously. Deciding to be bold, you trail the hand on Bucky’s chest up until you can cup his cheek, smiling when he turns his head and kisses your palm.

“What if I do want to?” You glance over at Steve, batting your eyelashes and fighting the shiver that wants to run through your body when he groans, low and utterly sexy.

“And what exactly is it that you want?” Bucky asks, his voice dropping while moving his free hand to your back, slowly inching down until he can rest it on your ass, but not squeezing.

“I -“ Suddenly a whine is forced out of your mouth when Steve moves your hair and leans down so he can kiss and nibble at your neck. “Steve!”

Then, Bucky dips down while pulling your head closer to his so he can press a searing kiss on your lips, swallowing your moan as he squeezes and kneads your ass.

“Tell us what you want, kitten,” Steve murmurs, biting and sucking a dark bruise on your neck and laughing when you pull away from Bucky’s lips with a huff.

“I - fuck.” Your whining is bordering on desperation. The lack of physical and sexual contact for the last few months has finally caught up to you, and you’re about to cry with how needy you feel. “I want you to fuck me.”

Both men curse, Steve nodding but not removing his mouth from the column of your throat. And maybe if your head wasn’t already fogged over with desire you’d have heard Bucky’s muttered “finally.” As it is though, you don’t pay attention to anything other than their hands caressing and groping your body, the men working in tandem to strip you of your dress and lay you flat on your back in the middle of the bed.

Both men stand at the end of the bed, staring at you with dark lust in their eyes as Bucky palms his crotch. They stare for so long that you start to get self-conscious, wondering what they’re thinking. It was always quick with John, he never really focused on your pleasure but rather worried about getting himself off and asking with an infuriatingly smug grin if it was good. It never was, but you never told him that, you hate confrontation. So it’s a little unnerving to have sex be drawn out, to be the center of attention - and the attention coming from the two hottest men on the planet makes you squirm uncomfortably. You’re about to cover yourself with your arms when Bucky kneels on the bed and grabs one of your wrists, Steve appearing next to you so he can grab your other one.

“Don’t,” Bucky says hoarsely, a determined look in his eyes. “Don’t hide from us, kitten.”

An involuntary moan forces its way up your throat and out of your mouth, and you find yourself agreeing with a quick nod. “I-I’m sorry,” You whine, arching into Steve’s hand that has now found a home on your covered breast.

“Don’t be sorry, princess,” Steve murmurs trailing his hand from your breast to your neck, toying with the necklace John had given you on your sixth-month anniversary. You haven’t taken it off since, it felt like a mark of ownership. And at first, it felt good, you loved knowing you were John’s girl. However, as the relationship progressed and worsened with every day, it felt more like a chain, weighing you down and forcing you to stay tethered to him. Yes, it had occurred to you to take it off a few times, but you weren’t ready for it to end. Even though it was an extremely toxic relationship, you had nowhere to go.

“Did he give you this?” Steve asks, disdain clear in his voice. And when you nod, he hovers over you, smirking as he grips the necklace and pulls, the chain snapping in two as he flings it across the room. Ignoring your shocked gasp, Steve and Bucky lean back and get off the bed, resuming their earlier position near the end of it.

“She’s perfect, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs after a long moment of silence. Putting a hand on the back of his partner’s neck, he yanks him forward, pulling him into a downright filthy kiss that makes your legs immediately squeeze shut to relieve the growing ache in your core.

At your loud and needy whine, they pull away, both men working in sync to get undressed and hurry to lay on either side of you. Both of them have kept their boxers on, but the very large bulge straining against the fabric does absolutely nothing to hide their arousal.

“Are you sure you want this?” Bucky asks, and even though you can hear the desperation in his voice, you know deep in your bones that they would stop if you said no. And that just further cements your decision, you need them, you need to feel them and kiss them and have them worship you in ways John could never.

“I’m sure, Bucky.”

“Call me ‘Daddy’, princess,” He says, reaching up a hand and placing it on your throat. He doesn’t choke you, but the pressure lets you know that he wants to.

“I’m sure, Daddy.”

Bucky groans as though he’s been punched in the gut, and his hips jerk forward, rubbing his erection into your thigh. He dives down and captures your lips in a heated kiss, momentarily distracting you from everything around you. That is until you feel a hand travel down your stomach, ignoring your underwear and slipping inside to quickly cup your wet and aching pussy.

Pulling away, you let out another gasp, your gaze immediately shooting to your left to see Steve’s very smug smirk.

“Feel good?” He asks as he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, slowly moving his middle finger up and down your slit until he finally pushes through, slipping the thick digit into your quivering hole all the way to the third knuckle.

“Oh God, yes! Yes, Steve.” He pulls his finger out momentarily, only to shove in two fingers - once again pushing in all the way.

“Sir,” Steve growls, leaning down to nibble at your ear. His gravely chuckle when you mumble, “Yes, sir,” sends tingles down your spine, and you’re near tears with how good but not enough his fingers feel.

“I-I need…” You trail off, whining pathetically when Steve removes his fingers again. You whine even louder when Steve pulls his hand out of your panties altogether, letting you see his fingers covered in your juices glinting in the moonlight. The sight doesn’t last long, because Bucky immediately dips down to suck on them, both men groaning in pleasure. The brunette doesn’t swallow though, he actually lets the fingers slip free from his mouth so he can capture his partner’s lips, letting Steve taste you too.

“Fuck,” You whimper, hands automatically tugging at both of their boxers in an attempt to move things along. “Please just fuck me already.”

They separate from each other, grinning wolfishly at each other for a moment before glancing down at your cute pout and pleading eyes.

“What’s the rush?” Steve asks, dipping down to give you a brief kiss. “We’ve got all night.”

Thankfully, though, they get with the program, maneuvering your body to their liking until your bra and panties are also discarded. And you’re about to undo the strap on your heels before Bucky grabs your ankle, shaking his head in disapproval.

“You’re keeping these on.” His command sends shivers down your spine, and you can’t even speak anymore with how turned on you are. Despite this, you somehow manage to whisper, “Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s good,” Steve says, moving to kneel on the bed next to your head while he palms his bulge with one hand and squeezes your cheeks between his fingers with the other. “You’re going to be a good girl for us, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir!” You say enthusiastically, nodding your head as best as you can. And due to Steve holding your head in place, you can’t see what Bucky is doing, but you feel your legs being pushed wide open as the bed dips between them.

“Good,” Steve mutters mostly to himself, giving you an unnervingly soft smile for the situation. “Now, Bucky’s been dying to taste you since he first laid eyes on you, so you’re going to let him worship your pussy while I fuck your mouth. Okay?”

If you weren’t already drunk with pleasure, this would’ve been the thing to send you under. His commanding tone and the heat of Bucky’s mouth so close to your dripping core already have you on edge, ready to snap at the slightest touch. And when you nod, Steve turns to his partner, nodding once and smirking when he dives in, parting your pussy lips and licking a long stripe from your hole to your throbbing clit, where he then sucks it into his mouth.

The borderline scream you emit is so loud you’d be surprised if anyone on this floor didn’t hear it, but it’s quickly muffled by Steve shoving his boxers down and easing his cock into your gaping mouth. Now, you’ve never really liked giving head - well, with John anyway. He was always too rough, and the fact that he never returned the favor made it seem more like a chore than anything.

But you could definitely get used to this. Steve’s girth stretches your lips wider than ever before, and even through the haze of pleasure, you can tell that he’s holding back, letting you get used to the stretch. It doesn’t take long, and a particularly rough nip to your clit has you sucking Steve’s cock further into your mouth, and the man curses above you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” Steve sighs, rocking his hips forward ever so slightly. When he finds little resistance, he pulls back and pushes in a little further, groaning deep in his chest when you bring up a hand to tug at his balls.

“Taste so fuckin’ good too, princess,” Bucky mumbles against your pussy, pulling away only briefly so he can easily slide two metal fingers in as deep as they could possibly go. It’s clear that his goal is to make you cum, and you’re not that far off. To be frank, your arousal has been building from the moment you met them, and they are not disappointing.

It only takes a few more thrusts of Bucky’s fingers and Steve’s hand coming down to wrap around your throat for you to cum - your cunt spasming and hips thrusting up into Bucky’s face as you chase your high. Soon enough, both men retreat from your body, giving you a short reprieve while they rid themselves of their underwear. Steve moves you so he can lay back against the headboard, adjusting your position so you can rest in between his legs with your back against his chest while Bucky hovers over you.

“Now, princess,” He murmurs, just loud enough for both of you to hear him, and taps your arm. “You’re going to hold onto Stevie while I ruin this pussy. Then, he’s goin’ to fuck my cum back into you.”

“Oh God yes, yes please, Daddy!” If your mind wasn’t deep in the pits of desire you’d probably be embarrassed by how needy you are, maybe even ashamed. Right now, though, you can’t imagine feeling anything but pure pleasure and happiness.

It all happens so fast, Steve grabbing the backs of your thighs so he can spread them wide and Bucky quickly following by pushing his cock - easily the longest you’ve ever taken - halfway into your cunt. He stops there for a moment, letting you get used to the sudden stretch before surprising you by pulling out until his tip is only poking in.

You’re frustrated, extremely so, and you’re pretty sure you’ll cry if he doesn’t fill you back up. And you’re about to start whining when the man above you thrusts forward, burying his cock so deep in your pussy that you swear you could feel him in your throat. Deep and guttural groans fill the air, a metal hand grasping your thigh and keeping it spread so Steve can wrap his arm around your midsection and hold you close while the pace quickly picks up.

And you’re in heaven, this must be heaven. Because in no other plane of existence would the two most handsome men in the world be touching and gripping you like you’re a priceless gem they’re afraid to lose. From behind you, Steve groans every time Bucky pushes into you, forcing you to shift in Steve’s lap and subconsciously grind into his throbbing erection.

“Fuck, kitten,” Bucky mutters, bracing one hand on the headboard and dropping your leg so he can grab your throat, squeezing the sides and forcing you to look into his eyes - dark with a desire you’ve never known. But there’s something else there, something primal that no ordinary man could have, a sense of possessiveness and ownership that seeps out of his pores.

You can’t do anything except moan, your mouth parting wider to let out a scream when Bucky shifts slightly, thrusting and hitting that special spongey spot deep within you dead on.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she Stevie?”

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Steve says softly, running the hand he has on your stomach down to your pussy to rub at your hole, feeling where you and his partner are connected. “Always knew she would be.”

Thankfully for them, those words fly over your head. You’re already too fucked-out to think properly, do you even know what your name is?

When Steve swiftly moves his fingers to your clit, your answer is a confident no. All you can seem to focus on are these two men and the immense pleasure they’re giving you. And it takes only a few more thrusts for you to feel that coil in your tummy wind tighter and tighter.

“Is she gonna cum?” Steve asks cockily, noticing the way Bucky’s hips stutter and his brow furrows. Reaching up, Steve grabs the back of his partner’s neck and pulls him in for a rough and messy kiss - mainly tongue and teeth. When they pull away, Bucky is nearly breathless, and you can hear the cockiness in his voice when Steve tells him, “Make her. Come on, baby. Fucking fill her up so I can.”

Those words - coupled with the fingers rubbing your clit, the pressure on your neck, and the cock that’s currently rearranging your guts - make you cum harder than you’ve ever. It doesn’t even really feel like an orgasm, it’s better than that. Something squirts out of your pussy with every forward thrust, and if it weren’t for being sandwiched between the two buffest men to ever exist then you’d be positive you were floating off into the clouds.

Bucky follows soon after, a loud groan of your name filling the room before his hips are flush with yours. Vaguely, you can feel his seed filling your womb, coating your insides, and it takes a full minute for Bucky’s breathing to even out. When he finally regains his composure, he leans back, holding your hips steady and chuckling at the glazed look in your eyes.

“Ready for me to pull out, kitten?” The answer he gets is a mumbled and pitiful “no”, which he laughs at, affectionately patting your hip. “Sorry, princess, we have to let Stevie have his turn.”

With that, he nods to Steve, who reaches over to the nightstand and procures a phone, handing it to Bucky. Bucky places his metal hand on the inside of your right thigh, holding it in place while he goes to the camera app on his phone. 

“Okay, princess, gonna pull out now.” With his phone aimed at your hips, he slowly pulls out, hissing quietly but not stopping until his cock finally slips free. He moans softly, and when you finally manage to lift your head enough to see what he’s doing you see the phone leaning closer, capturing the no doubt obscene view of his cum dripping out of your hole. Bucky takes a few pictures and then tosses the phone back to Steve, who places it back on the nightstand.

The men shift, maneuvering your limp body until you’re laying flat on your back with Steve kneeling on the bed between your legs while Bucky stands off to the side, gripping his still-hard cock.

“Alright, beautiful,” Steve says, adjusting a pillow underneath your hips. “You ready for me?”

It takes a second to process his words, but when you do you nod your head as fast as you can, nearly giving you whiplash. You don’t care though, all you care about is the delicious stretch in your core as Steve pushes in slowly.

“Fuck, kitten,” Steve growls, stopping when his crotch is flush against yours with his pubic bone pressing against your clit. He grinds his hips against yours, the stimulation to your clit making you whine loudly.

Steve is drastically different from Bucky, he fucks you slow and sweet, though no less forceful, reaching deep in your pussy until you can barely gasp for air. When your head lolls to the side, you see Bucky stroking his cock in time with Steve’s thrusts, and, without thinking, you reach for him, beckoning him forward until he’s close enough that you can wrap your hand around it. Both men moan, and Bucky brings up his flesh hand and cups one of your breasts, kneading the flesh and rubbing over your nipple, pinching and twisting just right so it’s bordering on a delicious kind of pain.

Then, a loud smack rings through the air, Steve’s hips jerking forward almost immediately after.

“Pick it up, babe,” Bucky says with a smirk, chuckling at Steve’s agitated look, but he does so nonetheless.

Steve starts fucking you with intent, slamming into you at a borderline inhuman speed - and you don’t know how it’s possible but the orgasm building in your core seems to be more intense than the last. And after a few more thrusts, you’re plunged into the dark abyss of pleasure - mind going blank as a loud sob rips through your throat.

It’s an indeterminate amount of time later when you regain consciousness, and this time you don’t recognize the room you’re in. It takes a few moments for you to shake the fogginess out of your mind enough to notice that you’re alone in the large bed, and when you raise your head to look around the room you can’t see Bucky or Steve. But the pictures of the two of them and friends scattered throughout the space show you that this is their room.

“Bucky?” You call softly, your eyebrows furrowing when you hear no reply. Stretching your arms above your head, you force yourself out of bed - noticing that you’re now covered with a large shirt that smells a lot like Steve’s cologne. You go into the bathroom to find it empty, then wander to the large walk-in closet - again, empty.

Where are they?

“Steve?” You say a little louder, tentatively opening the bedroom door and peeking out, finding the hallway empty and quiet. There’s a spark of uneasiness that ignites in your stomach, though you try to stomp it out by reasoning with yourself - they’re busy men, after all.

When you look to your right, you see a set of double doors at the end of the long hallway, and something in you tells you to check there. As you walk down to the doors, more uneasiness pops up, it just feels a little too quiet. But the closer you get you can start to hear whispers, and they become more prominent when you stop right outside the doors. Bits and pieces of conversation flow through the wood.

“I want him gone within the hour.”

“Off the bridge.”

“They won’t find him.”

But one line hits you differently.

“Don’t let her find out.”

Your curiosity is extremely peaked, and it takes all of your willpower to bring your hand up to knock. You feel a little like you’re intruding, but you’re too confused to not impose.

The door opens a few moments later, though it’s only cracked halfway, and Steve appears in the doorframe.

“Hello, beautiful,” He says sweetly, reaching out a hand to hold your hip. “Why don’t you go back do bed, hm? I’ll be right there.”

“But, Buck-”

“Is just dealing with a few things. We had to deal with a business related issue, but he’ll join us when he’s done.” Steve is calm, and the soft look in his eyes is enough to quell any anxiety you were feeling. You’re not sure how he’s able to do it, but he’s mesmerizing, already able to manipulate you to his liking.

You’re sure it’s supposed to be frightening, but you can’t find it in you to care. Unlike John, you know with an enormous amount of certainty that they would never harm you, they’ll protect you.

What you don’t know is just how far they’ll go to protect you - to save you from deadbeat men who are too selfish to not recognize a treasure when he has one. And men that are too stupid to know when he’s being lied to. You don’t need to know that, though.

So, with a smile and a kiss, he sends you on your way, only retreating back into the room when you go in theirs.

“That was close,” Bucky says as he hangs up the phone, putting it back in his pocket.

“It’s okay, she doesn’t know.” Steve turns to his partner, both of them wearing matching smirks. “And she never will.”

taglist (+ people who seemed interested): @yamitem @buckysprettybaby @kokeshi-mynx @cevansbaby-dove @biteofcherry

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic rec #bucky barns #bucky barns imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #stucky #stucky imagine #stucky x reader #stucky x reader imagine #mafia!stucky #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!steve #mafia!steve rogers #let me know what y'all think!! #my writing #my stuff

[biteofcherry]

To find the light, we must first touch the darkness

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

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

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

warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; manipulation; power imbalance; forced marriage; D/s undertones; ex-pli-cit; knife kink; choking; choking kink; praise;

word count: 7k

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 6. Downpour

~ * ~

Victims often described the events of their traumatic experience as a blur. Or a film montage of chopped scenes, often black and white, or with one color prevailing. Sometimes their minds protected themselves so strongly they dissociated, their consciousness floating away into a safe space.

Nothing of the sort happened to you on your dreaded wedding day. 

If anything, you felt more present in the moment than in the days leading to it. 

Colors were vibrant, sounds clear, your feelings vivid. 

You felt the constriction of the built-in corset of your wedding dress, the soft swish of the embroidered, shiny tulle in the chalice of the wide skirt; as well the warm amazement at how beautiful you looked. 

Even though your spite tempted you to pick a dress that would manifest how much you didn’t want to say your vows, you couldn’t help the flaming love you experienced at the sight of yourself in a stunning wedding dress. 

A fucking princess style, out of all. 

You wanted to hate it, to cross it out purely to not give Steve the extra satisfaction, but your parents teared up when they saw you in it. Maybe they had some qualms about the speedy wedding, but they sure got on board with it when they saw your face glowing. 

You didn’t have the heart to tell them it was because you felt beautiful, not because you loved your future husband. 

Whose handsome face you couldn’t look away from as your father walked you down the aisle. 

Dressed in a sharp suit, steel gray a tone warmer than his cold heart, Steve watched you every step of your way to him. Others perhaps saw in his face awe, getting all mushy over how much he had to be in love with you, but you knew it was a glint of triumph. 

You said your vows in the wide garden surrounding Steve’s property, under an arch of lush peonies and vines. You were sure it’s only thanks to the two glasses of Prosecco and Steve’s hand holding yours a tad too tightly, that you recited your promise to him without a hitch. 

With how smooth and soft Steve’s voice was, how he held your gaze captive, you’d think he was expressing true, deep feelings when he said his vows. 

True was his possessiveness. 

Steve displayed it first in the way he kissed you - draping you over his arm, like in old Hollywood movies, and branding your lips with a breathstealing, passionate kiss. Unable to resist, your arm sneaked around his neck, fingers splaying on the back of his head, while your other hand gripped onto the lapel of his suit jacket. 

Then by keeping you occupied each dance, allowing only your father to lead you through two songs. 

To your further annoyance, Steve turned out to be a really good dancer. Or maybe he was simply good at holding you and controlling your body as he guided you across the wooden planks built into a dance floor specially for this occasion. 

“You look beautiful, Princess.” 

There was no breathtaking awe in Steve’s voice, like you used to imagine your true love would say those words one day. But it was no coy game, either. Steve meant them, it was an honest compliment. 

It was also his pride in owning you. 

“I’m already your wife, all is signed. No need for bullshit,” you stared over Steve’s shoulder, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze and see what desires may shine in the ice cold blue irises. 

He twirled you suddenly, then pulled you back to him. Kept you pressed against him tighter as he brushed his lips along your cheek. 

“I’d think by now you know I don’t really bullshit anyone,” he whispered in your ear. “I do find you stunning. And I’ll repeat those words later, when I have you naked in our bedroom.”

Heat filled you faster than after that shot you sneaked right before soup was served, to calm your nerves and numb yourself further as the reality of being now Mrs Rogers started settling in. No, that fast dose of booze didn’t scorch your insides the way Steve’s promise of the wedding night did. 

“Not gonna happen,” you tried sounding fierce, but your voice came much breathier than you’d like. 

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Steve chuckled, tip of his tongue flicking the shell of your ear, eliciting goosebumps to appear all over your skin. 

His hand on your back was placed low, but he dipped his fingers even further, toying with the ribbon of your corset right above the curve of your ass. 

“We have a deal, after all.” He reminded you. 

You wanted to argue with him, that technically you didn’t agree to it, but you knew it’s futile. You suffered some disturbing sexual deviancy and your pussy tingled at the mere thought of Steve touching it. So you planned on simply being sneaky and wiping yourself dry before entering the bedroom. And then staying resolved and unbothered, so that Steve’s dark touch didn’t force a single drop of slick out. 

You considered stuffing your nose with something too, because the scent of Steve alone now that he was pressed to you so close, was enough to warm up your body. 

To ignore your own responses - to his smell, to his touch, to the images of wicked acts he could do to you - you focused your gaze above Steve’s shoulder. Glancing at random guests, at the stunning flower arrangements, trying not to hurt from the fact your parents looked so joyous. 

You frowned, noticing Natalie smirking around the rim of a champagne flute as she talked to a man whom you recognized as Steve’s most trusted right hand, Bucky. While flirting at a wedding wasn’t something unusual, alarm bells rang in your head at the prospect of Natalie endangering herself. She was already at risk, being associated with you, but to dance with a wolf was like playing with fire that was surely going to consume her whole. 

You didn’t know much about Bucky, practically nothing, but if he was this close to Steve then there was no trace of innocence or clear conscience in him. 

No one could stay pure, if they followed in Rogers’ murky wake. A realization which made you wonder, if your own core may rot and dissolve at his feet. 

Your heart fluttered, as Steve twirled your body again. Chalice of your dress opened, shimmering in the sunlight as if encrusted in crushed diamonds. In reality it was a faint sparkle compared to the actual bling of the diamond ring on your finger. 

You glared at it with disdain when Steve first put it on your finger, seeing nothing but a leash. A brand of ownership and reminder of torment. But the more glances you stole, the more irresistible it was to admire. 

It was truly beautiful and you hated it for it. 

Steve pulled you back to his body, pressing you even closer than before. Tip of his nose grazed along yours, the icy blue of his irises warming into the shade of pure sky. His breath tickled your mouth, mingling with yours as your lips parted on a gasp. 

Then his lips were on you. Soft and coaxing, tempting you to respond in submission. 

You told yourself it’s the surprise of it that made you give in, the spectacle you had to continue for the guests, but you couldn’t completely deny the jolt of excitement that spurred heat into every crevice of your body, then melted it into a pliant surrender. 

You were vaguely aware of the camera flashes as pictures of you were taken. The sound of cheering and clapping barely registering through the haze of your heartbeat pounding in your head. 

There was no triumphant smirk on Steve’s lips when he reluctantly pulled away, which would undoubtedly shake you out of daze. Instead, there was a dark hunger that clenched your heart in fear and your cunt in anticipation. 

You found yourself surprisingly reluctant to step out of his embrace as the song ended and Steve took the opportunity to build the lie further by asking your mother to dance.

Trying to avoid dancing with Steve wasn’t as clever a solution as you first thought, because the bastard found other ways to instigate small gestures of intimacy that confused your brain and tickled your clit like a living tongue. 

Like him smoothly commenting how delicious that seasoned rib was and how you should try it, then promptly feeding you a piece of it.

With his fingers. 

Purposely slipping his fingertip between your lips along with the meat.

It was a split of a second, but enough to have a wave of heat wash over you and your thighs clench.

You thanked heaven that you picked a princess dress, because the layers of the skirt at least hid the movement that would otherwise betray you.

A gulp of wine couldn’t wash away the sensation, nor did it wipe the lewd image of Steve forcing his fingers into your mouth. Would they be salty? Would they feel heavy as he pressed them against your tongue? Would his rings feel cool? 

Then you didn’t even have alcohol to numb yourself. Steve made sure your glass was filled with water only as the celebrations proceeded. When you glared at him, trying to yank your hand out of his grip, he said he won’t have you sloshed on your wedding night.

“Don’t want you to worry it was only the booze that got you wet,” he sucked on your earlobe. 

But made it look so sweet, the way he pressed his cheek to yours and gently held your hand, that to the others it had to look as if he was whispering love admissions into your ear. 

The bastard played supportive and soothing as he caressed your back when you were saying goodbye to the guests leaving the reception late in the evening. Your mom took your teary eyes as an overwhelming, but positive emotion that made her all mushy as well. 

You couldn’t cling to her, or your dad, crying in despair that they were leaving you with a monster. Not when that monster was constantly by your side, being most respectful and charming towards them. Displaying a twisted care for you that eased your parents’ worries while irritating you. 

There were fireworks bursting in the sky in abundant splashes of color as Steve led you to the master bedroom. 

Everyone was gone, only the wedding planner’s team was rushing around like busy bees, cleaning up and packing leftovers. And they all pretended they didn’t see you. You thought some of Steve’s men were also circling around, but you didn’t know yet if it was to keep an eye on the workers, or if it was their routine to guard Steve’s mansion. 

Once inside the bedroom, you blurted out your need to use the bathroom and promptly locked yourself inside. Only for a few moments you entertained the thought of staying in and sleeping on the tiled floor, but you knew Steve wouldn’t allow that. He’d sooner take the damn door down than give you reprieve.

He wanted to wreck your body too much. 

And you feared how you may react to it. 

As you pulled up layers and layers of tulle, to use the toilet and clean yourself from the already obvious reaction to Steve’s touch; you accepted that your anxiety wasn’t for debauchery, but for the inappropriate eagerness of your body.

For fuck’s sake, you were dripping and coming on command when he defiled you with a gun!

How much stronger was your reaction going to be when he caressed you with his hands and mouth? 

After wiping yourself dry, you cleaned your hands and with your head held high stepped out into the bedroom. You still planned on fighting tooth and nail to not arouse from whatever he had planned. 

Having taken off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves, Steve waited for you in the middle of the room. His eyes glinted with satisfaction when you stepped out. He crooked a finger at you, beckoning you to him. 

“I knew you’d come out like a good girl, Princess,” he crooned, not at all bothered by your stomping and glaring daggers his way. 

“Didn’t feel like watching a door being splintered into pieces,” you snapped, clenching your hands on the skirt of your dress as you stood right in front of Steve.

“Of course. That’s the only splintering you were concerned about,” he teased, running a single digit down the column of your neck. “But I know, Princess. I know there’s this curiosity that draws you to me. You may hate it, but your body is eager to learn what I’ll do to you.”

“It’s not. I’m not!” You protested, yet you didn’t flinch when his finger drew a scorching line from one collar bone to the other, then dipped lower to trace your cleavage. 

“I want to believe your words, Princess,” Steve said in pretend seriousness, “but let’s check in with your body, too.”

As embarrassing the thought of him flipping your skirts up was, you inwardly prayed he’d do it quickly. If he touched your pussy now, he’d find you dry. But if he prolonged the whole thing, you had no certainty it would stay this way. 

“I’m aware how fond of my gun you are,” his words startled you, stopping your heart for a split of a second then sending it into a fluttery beat. The memory of the warm muzzle dragging along your thigh and slipping under your panties spurred heat to pool low in your core. 

Shit! No! 

No, no, no. You couldn’t get wet! 

“But I didn’t think it’s an accessory appropriate for the wedding,” Steve’s mouth curved into a lopsided smile that only added to his criminally hot look. 

“So I had something special to be custom made for this occasion-” he touched your cheek in a sweet caress- “and for any future occasions… with my wife.”

Your breath hitched in your lungs when he called you his wife. He made it sound reverent, but at the same time his tone dripped with that dark triumph that reminded you there was no way out from his clutches. 

You watched Steve dip his hand into his pocket and then a glint of steel flashed before your eyes. 

A switchblade so sharp and polished so smooth that it seemed to be honed out of pure light. The handle was a shimmery white, with undertones of rainbow. Mother of pearl, you realized. 

Steve had his fingers wrapped around it, but purposely flipped it out, pinching the hilt between two of his fingers so you could see the silver initials engraved on it. Your initials, but with your last name being Rogers. 

Eyes widening, you went still as Steve brought the blade to your skin. Just the tip of it, you barely felt its touch, but your mind was already running with images of cuts and drawn blood. It should scare you, cause tears to fall out. Instead, you felt your pulse thundering in places that shouldn’t react to fear with excitement. 

Steve drew a soft line over the curve of your breasts and dipped the steel into the valley between them. 

He wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the front of your neck. His eyes heated up as your pupils widened in reaction, once again proving how weak you were for this single gesture. Keeping his hold firm enough you felt the silver of his rings pressing into your skin, Steve traced the blade along the trim of your wedding dress and then down your ribcage.     

“Are you afraid I’m going to hurt you?” Steve’s voice was deceivingly soft, as if he really cared if you were scared. 

You doubted he’d stop, even if you claimed that you are. You’d sooner expect him to mock you and then proceed to torment your body, proving to you how much you craved his depravity. 

But it wasn’t the physical torture you wanted to avoid. For how bad Steve was, how he fucked up your life, somehow you knew he wouldn’t harm you physically. Well, perhaps if you betrayed him. He’d kill you then. But as long as you followed his plans, you were certain he wouldn’t raise his hand on you.

Steve’s thumb brushed along your jaw in a seemingly soothing caress. You turned your face to the side, but he forced you to look back at him when you admitted in a defeated whisper: 

“I’m afraid you will make me like it.”

Fingers still curled around the front of your neck, Steve inched closer. Blue of his irises seemed to glitter an impossible hue up this close, mesmerizing you. 

You were a prey fully ensnared. 

“I will, Princess.” Steve’s lips teased yours. “I will give you pleasure that hurts so good.”

A tiny whimper escaped your mouth. You wished it was a sound of trepidation, but it held an unmistakable undertone of need. It was too late now, you felt a wet spot forming on your white undergarments. 

Steve kissed you softly, reverently; like a husband in love might kiss his beloved wife on their wedding night. Combined with the pressure of a sharp blade at your side, it made your head spin. 

“Stay still, please,” Steve squeezed your throat lightly, before releasing you and taking a step back. 

He walked around you, slowly making a full circle as he admired you. Teasing you by making you wait for what he does next. When he stopped behind you and you felt the puff of his breath on your nape, your fingers trembled. 

Then the cool blade pressed where Steve’s warm breath tickled you a second ago. He drew a sharper line down the middle of your back. You didn’t feel the sting of a cut, but he put enough pressure for you to feel a tingling scratch that dispersed into pleasant burning. 

You gulped when you felt him hook the knife under the lacing of your dress.

“I can just take it off.” You grumbled, frowning. It was a stunning dress and even though you wouldn’t be wearing it ever again, you weren’t happy with the idea of it being cut to pieces.

“You could,” Steve chuckled, “but then I wouldn’t get to hear you-”

You gasped as he swiftly cut through the first string.

“-make that lovely sound.” 

Steve relished in each cut, though you weren’t sure if he was more entranced with your little noises (which you tried to suppress, but failed at times), the act of cutting itself, or with your naked skin being revealed as the bodice of your dress parted. 

When the corset opened fully, dropping and exposing your upper body, Steve smoothed his hand along your back. Which elicited another gasp from you. 

You expected the blade to return, to draw dangerous patterns on your fragile skin. Steve’s warm, gentle caress sent a different kind of jolt down your spine, causing your tense muscles to relax in foolish trust. He pressed himself to your back, moving his hand around your front and boldly cupping your breast. A wave of heat seemed to scorch your face from the inside, but it also pooled between your thighs. 

He peppered kisses along your neck as he played with your breast; sucked on your skin as he switched his attention to the other tit. 

There was no logical thought in your head when he pinched your nipple hard and you arched; one of your arms flying up to grip the back of Steve’s head. It was an instinctive reaction of your body’s deepest need. 

Suddenly, Steve’s touch left you. Only to pull impatiently at your dress, forcing the abundant skirt to fall down. Big hands - one still holding a knife - clenched around your hips. He picked you up so easily, as if you weighed close to nothing. 

Then he was dropping you onto the grand bed. Before you even managed to push yourself up, he flipped you over onto your back. A split of a panicked thought almost had you inching away, reheating the idea to fight him. But one of Steve’s hands clenched on your ankle, while the other splayed on your belly - the one holding the knife. 

“Lie back, Princess.” Steve’s tone wasn’t harsh, but it chimed with certain urgency. 

You stilled. Though you preferred to think it was because of the blade he left on your belly in a warning, not because he asked you to. 

Definitely not because you couldn’t look away from him as Steve undressed in a few quick, practiced moves. 

The sight was so enticing you didn’t think of grabbing the knife and possibly changing the flow of the night to your advantage. 

Without his shirt on, you saw the wide plains of Steve’s chest and chiseled abdomen; saw the tattoos entwining his arms and upper body. Dark patterns, with a few splashes of rich color, that only added to the dark, thrilling aura of Steve Rogers. 

You swore that while Steve was a scary motherfucker in his usual wear, he’d appear an even more lethal demon if he approached his victims half-naked. 

Your gaze shifted downward when he pushed his pants down, but you forced it back up to his face. Mostly because you feared the sound you may make, if you saw his cock. Partly because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of you staring. 

When Steve knelt on the mattress and then crawled forward, you dropped your head to the pillows and focused on the ceiling. A part of you craved to watch him, to await in trepidation, but you still held onto that sane part of your brain that told you it’s wrong to want it. Wrong to give in to him so easily. 

“You’re beautiful, Princess.” He repeated the words, just like he promised.

Calloused fingers traced up your legs. The sensation this touch evoked made you want to clench your thighs, but Steve’s knee was wedged between your legs, preventing it. 

Eyes focused on your face, Steve seemed to study and memorize every spark of reaction to his touch. He picked up the knife again. The grin that he flashed you as he brought the blade to your skin was all satisfaction and condescending praise. He didn’t say it, but you almost heard the Good girl. For doing as he told you. For waiting. For being so obviously responsive. 

He knelt above you as he trailed the knife along your exposed body. His gaze shifted between the glint of the blade and your face. As his aim traveled south, Steve moved along with it. 

Corner of his mouth tugged upward in a dangerous smirk when he slipped the tip of the blade under the white lace of your panties. 

Your whole body went rigid. Your mouth opened, your breath becoming ragged. 

And yet, when he slashed the fabric apart, you felt a new gush of slick. 

Steve cut the other side of your panties as well, then pushed your thighs further apart. Exposing your shameful reaction. 

“Princess,” he licked his lips, “it appears that you’re wet.” 

He tapped the wide side of the blade against your clit, the jolt of it making you clench around nothing. Steve’s eyes darkened and a low, growling kind of sound rumbled in his chest as he used the knife to flick away the lace that was sticking to your drenched folds. 

“You’re not wet. You’re dripping.” He seemed to be in awe of the discovery. 

It was in a sense a comforting feeling, to see more than just a cocky triumph. To see Steve affected by the situation. Perhaps not as strongly as you were, but with enough force to make you think perhaps it was a novelty for him as well. 

“Say it, Princess.” Steve’s gaze flicked back to your face; his own eyes full of dark hunger. “Say how wet you are, for me.”

Your lips clenched shut, a stubborn frown drawing your eyebrows together. It was humiliating enough that you were so lewdly on display for this bastard, that your body betrayed you and was ready to take him. Admitting it aloud would only strip you of all defenses. 

When Steve slapped your inner thigh, the sting of it seemed to zing directly to your clit. 

“Ohh!” You couldn’t suppress the gasp, but then managed to spat angrily - “Fuck, fine! I’m wet for you, you bastard.”

As much as you hated it, your anger was less about him demanding your admission and more about him not touching you where you most needed it. 

“Your husband.” Steve reminded you, with sinister glee. 

With his knee, he pressed your other leg down. Then dragged the knife along the skin of your inner thigh. This time you felt the prick of pain as he cut the tissue. You hissed, head lifting up to stare at the tiny, thin wound. A single drop of blood pearled at the end of it. 

Then Steve’s mouth was on it. Warm and sucking, and drawing a surprised moan out of you. 

He sucked and licked it clean, making you forget about everything else. His mouth moved up, closer and closer to your core. When he finally licked into your folds as if he was biting into a ripe fruit, you dropped down with a cry. 

Fingers gripping the sheets tightly, you rode sensations unknown to you until then. Muscles strained in pain as you held yourself stiff, still sensing that blade pressed against your skin. Steve had his arms wrapped under and around your thighs, keeping you spread as he feasted on your pussy. One of his hands was holding the knife against your abdomen, the sharp tip right on your mound. 

“Oh God, please!” Your eyes clenched shut. “Please, please, Steve. I-”

As he lapped at your clit, lashing it with rapid flicks then sucking on it so sweetly, you felt your orgasm building painfully high. You were heartbeats away from climaxing.

“Stop, please!” You begged. “The knife- I can’t- I need-” 

Even if you were pleading for him to stop what he was doing all together, Steve wouldn’t listen. Not when he was so close to owning you completely. You needed something slightly different and you hoped Steve would recognize the urgency.

Mercifully, he paused. Though he held his lips close to your clit as he looked up at you from between your thighs - his eyes reminiscing of the stars frozen in dark waters of the northern lakes. 

“What do you need from your knife, Princess?” He asked, tilting the blade an inch lower. 

It almost touched your clit. 

“Place it away, please,” you started explaining, sensing that he wouldn’t comply without a satisfying reason. “I- I’m about to come. And I will, um, move. I can’t stay still. I just, I never could. I can’t.” 

“You’re afraid I’d cut you, if you get all squirmy and arching?” Twinkle of amusement lit up Steve’s eyes.

“Please, Steve.” You feared tearing up, if he refused you. You also feared he would make you cum and cut you, and that you weren’t ready for that combination of pain and pleasure. 

He hummed, holding your gaze as he licked your clit again. Your muscles tensed anew, he had to feel them straining in your thighs where he held you. Then, very slowly, he untangled himself from you. Steve let your thighs drop to the mattress freely. He lifted the hand holding the knife and you sagged in relief. 

Steve leaned over you, bracing his weight on one arm. His broad frame cast a shadow over you. He brought the blade up to your face, you could see a fragment of your reflection in it. 

“Kiss it.” Steve ordered. 

You stared at him, bewildered. He waited, surprisingly patiently, holding the blade inches from your mouth. He called this knife yours. Had it custom made for you. Used it on you in ways you never imagined in a sexual encounter. Teased what more he could do. What he probably would do to you in the future. And he wanted you to kiss it as if in gratitude for all the lewd things it would unleash on you. 

Swallowing nervously, you lifted your head enough to press your lips against the steel. 

“Good girl,” he praised. 

Your gaze followed Steve’s arm as he reached toward the nightstand to place the knife on it. Then his hand swiped along your arm, caressing muscles that strained from still gripping the sheets. 

He coaxed you back into the moment with a sensual kiss. The way his tongue dipped between your lips was soft and seductive. You’d never expect someone like Steve to be able to kiss like that. 

Heat quickly returned in pulsing beats to your clit as Steve kissed down your body. He settled back between your thighs, with a moan tasting your pussy once more. Relentlessly, he licked and sucked you back to that edge. Then pushed you over it as he pushed a finger into you. 

Steve kept that finger pumping steadily into your fluttering walls as he trailed wet bites up your body. He was hovering above you. Mouth, glistening with your arousal, was a lick away from you when he thrust a second digit inside. The stretch made you keen and Steve drank up every grimace you made. 

“Touch me, Princess,” he tempted you, curling his fingers just right. “Come on. Touch. I know you want to.” 

If your brain wasn’t a post-orgasmic mush, maybe you could muster some stubborn will to do the opposite. But he was right, you itched to touch him, to feel the ripple of his muscles beneath your fingertips, to see how hot he ran. 

Hesitantly at first, you placed both of your hands on his shoulders. Your gaze found one of the intricate vines that weaved along his shoulder and up his neck, a branch sprouting from it curved down and over his pectoral. You traced it with one hand, your other instinctively moving to Steve’s back. 

When you traced the contoured muscles of his abdomen, fingernails scratching lightly at the narrow path of coarse hair leading southwards, Steve increased the pace of his fingers. It stirred the fire in your core into a burst, evoking another moan. 

“Lower.” Steve gritted out, putting more of his weight and heat onto you. “Wrap that small hand of yours around my cock, Princess.” 

It was dirty - his words and the squelching sound of your pussy as he fingerfucked you. 

But it also made you drop your gaze between your bodies, searching for a glimpse of that dick. It swayed heavy, half-hard, right above your hip. Your walls clenched unexpectedly as you watched it. 

This wasn’t the first cock you saw in your life. You were far from a blushing virgin. There was something about Steve, however, that made you feel nervous and out of your depth. It appeared that sex with him was a whole new, scary discovery. 

Steve urged you with another command and your hand slipped down instantly. Hot, pulsing flesh in your palm, twitching and hardening as you curled your fingers around the quite impressive girth. 

It would stretch you so deliciously. Steve didn’t need to voice it for your imagination to ignite with the phantom sensation. 

You tightened your hold, swiping your thumb over the widened, red head. At Steve’s deep moan, your eyes flew up to his face, watching his pleasure in wonder. He didn’t hide it from you, didn’t try to pretend he wasn’t affected. Still, you felt yourself more at his mercy than he was at yours. Especially when you sensed that small kick of elation at giving him pleasure with your touch. 

You smeared the beads of precum down his shaft and started stroking. It was a mismatched rhythm, your focus faltering every time Steve drove his crooked fingers against that sensitive, spongy spot inside you. 

When Steve sat back on his haunches, you stopped your movement. A rush of heat filled you with sudden shyness as his gaze roamed over your splayed body. 

Skin dewy, breasts heaving with quickened breath, legs spread wide. Your hand was still around his cock, your ring and wedding band catching sparks of light. Steve’s own fingers were buried deep in your cunt, your slick glistened on his palm and wrist. 

Steve moved his other hand up your body, marveling at your curves and softness. He gave your breast a playful squeeze before trading his fingers further up. Fingers encircled the front of your neck in a familiar way. 

“You’re a fucking perfection, Princess.” 

Then he was withdrawing his fingers from your heat; milky slick sticking in a web between his digits. He knocked your hand away and spread your wetness all over his cock. 

He held your gaze as he dragged his dick between your puffed folds and into your hole. A pause for you to catch your breath, then he was thrusting in one fluid, firm stroke. 

A curse bubbled on your lips, stretching into a moan as he split you. Unable to reach him at the moment, your hands fisted the shits, gripping and twisting the fabric. Nipples stiffened into hard peaks, your chest arched upward at the same time as your head bowed back. 

There was no second to adjust, no mercy. Steve pounded into you roughly, setting a steady tempo. He watched your body move along the mattress, at least as much as his hold on your throat and your hip allowed. Your breasts swayed with each thrust, your thighs shook with each slap of his hips into you. 

He watched your eyes glaze over as an orgasmic haze crept over you anew. Your pretty mouth stayed open, letting out all the sweet noises. It took barely a few of his thrusts and you were cumming again. 

Everything was still spinning in your head when Steve yanked your hips more upwards. Your buttocks rested on his thighs, legs thrown over his hips as he fucked into you. Grip on your throat tightened more and more. Your eyes flew open, one of your hands grabbing onto Steve’s wrist. Unbothered, he kept choking you lightly. At the same time, his other hand sneaked across your abdomen. 

With your airflow limited, every sensation seemed to heighten impossibly. The stretch of his cock, the pressure of his hand on your lower belly. The coil tightened and tightened, and when Steve swiped his thumb over your engorged clit, you shattered with a soundless scream. 

Steve released your throat and the gulps of air you instinctively tok between raw cries seemed to prolong your orgasm. It twisted into a craze that felt agonizingly good. 

So good it caused you to cry, salty streaks dripping out of the corners of your eyes and down your temples. 

Through the thunderous buzz of blood pounding in your head, the muffled sound of Steve’s voice reached you. Your brain was unable to function enough to recognize it, but it sounded like your name. And something akin to ‘Atta girl. 

When Steve shifted, you welcomed his warm heaviness like a comforting blanket, mapping his sweaty back with your hands. He was still moving, speeding up, as he braced both of his forearms on the mattress. His breath was hot against your skin, his lips starved as he kissed and nipped. 

He rested his forehead against yours as he came with a loud moan. Warmth of his spend filled you and though you didn’t think of it now, later you would be thankful for the little contraceptive implant you had. As the fog of pleasure held you in its grip, you didn’t care for the consequences. Not when Steve was still rocking slightly into you, his cock twitching. 

You sighed, scrunching up your nose, when Steve pulled out a while later. Your pussy throbbed in protest, or maybe it was from the ache that was starting to make itself known. You leaked, too, which would make you really embarrassed if you weren’t too boneless to care. 

You managed to wipe at your temples and cheeks, where remnants of tears still wetted your skin, before Steve was touching you again. He flipped you onto your belly then licked a line up your spine with a broad stroke of his tongue. 

“Aren’t you done?” You huffed, fearing you may not be able to survive more. 

“Far from it,” Steve laughed and playfully slapped your ass. 

You were thankful that he spent quite some time just kissing and touching your back, your ass and your thighs. Whether he was giving himself enough time to get hard again, or if he was this dedicated to learning your body. 

When he sat on your thighs, his knees braced on the outside of your closed legs, and squeezed your asscheeks, you expected him to play there more. Instead, you felt him spread you enough to expose your pussy. He slid inside slowly, but it still took you by surprise.    

Steve laid on top of you, balancing his weight on his arms as he pulled back and thrust back in. The angle unraveled a completely new type of sensation.

“Oh my- fuuuck!” You couldn’t help the unladylike, high pitched squeal. 

Nails scratching at the sheets helplessly, you spluttered mewls as Steve purposely rocked his hips back and forth. 

“Awww,” he cooed, “is that the spot, Princess?” 

Then he pulled back and slammed back in. Each thrust grazed that ultrasensitive area; each time he sunk deeper and deeper, too. 

If you were moaning and crying when he fucked you the first time, these sounds were a symphony of pitiful and needy that surpassed others. At one point your mouth just hung open, saliva seeping out of the corner and staining the mattress. 

Your toes curled and you helplessly kicked your feet up and down, unable to shift in your position to ease the increasing, maddening pleasure. With your cheek pressed to the mattress, your gaze mindlessly focused on the ring on your finger where your hand rested beside your head. 

Steve’s fingers entered your vision, brushing along your hand and intertwining with your fingers. A mockery of softness in the ruthless way he was fucking you. 

Your cunt tightened around him, producing more slick the longer he railed that tormenting spot. The sound of him fucking you turned more and more squelching. 

“I want you to soak the sheets,” Steve grunted. When you made a noise of protest, he paused to force your legs wide apart with his feet. “Come on, Princess. Make a mess.”

And you did. 

Hiding your face in the bedding didn’t suppress the string of cries as you climaxed, squirting a small pool of release. 

Steve fucked you through it. Each of his hard thrusts ripping your whimpers into a choked single vowel as you went lax beneath him. 

“Fuck, Princess.”  He groaned, feeling your wetness drip down his balls. “I would wife you up for that alone. You really-” his hips snapped harder and faster- “are. Fucking. Perfect.” 

Your fingers remained intertwined, Steve’s face buried in the crook of your neck, as he came. Perhaps it was the angle at which he was buried inside of you, or maybe this time his orgasm was much stronger, but you felt every throb and every spurt more clearly than before. Felt yourself full with his cum and dripping excess of your combined spend. 

Long, long minutes later, when Steve pulled out and dropped next to you onto the mattress, you didn’t even blame him for not having enough power (or decency) to get you a wet cloth. 

Honestly, you didn’t have any strength to get up either. 

It was later, as you resigned yourself to falling asleep in the mess that you made, that you heard the sound of a drawer being open. Then a soft, wet wipe was pressed to your inner thigh. It was a surprise. Felt a little weird, too. But you rested quietly as Steve wiped you and himself clean, tossing used tissues into the bin hidden behind the nightstand.

When he laid back down on the unsoiled side of the bed and reached for you, you glared at him. 

Yes, he fucked your brains out. You seriously doubted there were any functioning brain cells left. Yes, you were officially married. Still, it didn’t mean you were going to play a docile wife in every aspect of this torment. 

“You want to sleep on the stained sheets?” Steve arched a single eyebrow. “Swallow your stubbornness and scoot here, Princess.” 

It was voiced as if he was giving you an option, but he didn’t wait for your decision. Astonishingly easily, he sneaked a hand under one of your thighs and simply lifted you enough to relocate you. 

Nestled to Steve’s side, with one leg hiked over his thigh, you willed yourself to stay awake long enough to sneak out when Steve dozed off. Unfortunately for you, your will was too fucked out. 

You fell asleep snuggled to the ruthless mafia monster.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #dark mafia!steve rogers #dark mafia!steve rogers x you #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x you #dark mafia!steve rogers x reader #touch the darkness #my writing

[sweetsbfreex]

the super seller patch!

Warning: none

Pairings: dad!mafia/gang!steve rogers x wife!reader

-

“Mommy’s gonna make sure you get your patch!” You tell your five-year-old daughter, Elysia, while you fix her blue, decorated vest. 

You’re kneeling in front of her small form, silently swooning at how adorable she looked in her uniform. Dressed in her blue beret, matching blue skirt, a white collared shirt, her favorite sneakers, and a white, polka’d fanny pack to store the cash.

She was excited and fidgety as you explained exactly what she would do. But she smiled up at you, her front tooth gone, as she listened to you intently. 

“Okay, mommy!” 

You stand up after kissing her full cheeks, guiding her to Steve’s office door. She looks back at you one more time, as her tiny fist stands parallel to the door. Eyebrows furrowed in uncertainty. 

“Go ahead” you whisper, smiling. 

She nods and smiles in return before her knuckles rasp against the wood door. 

-

The room's attention is taken by the Jacobean stained door. Steve smirks knowing that knocking pattern anywhere. He couldn’t count on one hand how many times a day he’d hear it on his door. Followed by an “Are you almost free daddy?” while one of his favorite faces poked through the gap. 

“Come in” Steve ushers in, a soft smile on his face when his little girl toddles in groaning softly at the weight of the door, but as always she steps in the room. 

“Hi daddy!” She bobs on her tippy-toes, causing her pigtails to bounce as she waves her arm at her father (who sits at the head of the table.) 

“Hi baby doll, how can I help you?” 

“I’m— I’m trying to get my S-super seller patch.”

She tells him everything he needs to hear, smiling at how adorable she looked in her outfit. 

“That’s great, baby, go ahead,” he tells her with an elbow set on the table while his bearded chin sits in his palm, watching the heir in her come out as she starts her rounds at the table. 

“Hi!” She stops in front of a buff, grumpy man; his hair is pulled back in a bun and the sides shaved. “I’m Elysia, I’m selling cookies to earn my super seller patch, would you like to buy cookies?” She recites, and quickly after pops a smile so her dimples are displayed. She may only be five, but she knew exactly how to work her cuteness to her upper hand. 

The man, Wong, holds up his hand and shakes his head softly, “No, thank—“

Steve clears his throat, eyes going flint-eyed towards the new recruit. He still had a lot to learn and this was one of them. Under his rule, Elysia was a princess; if she wanted a piggy back ride you’d agree, if she wanted a tea party you’d agree, and if she wanted you to buy some cookies you’d definitely agree. 

“Actually,” he starts, smiling nervously at the Girl Scout and glancing at Mr. Rogers as he takes the clipboard and pen, “I’ll buy 15 trefoils.”

“Thanks!” She beams, taking the clipboard back once he’s finished and stashing the cash in her fanny pack. 

She continues, no one has the guts to say no to her and she lights up inside when she’s handed big bill after big bill. 

Mr. Laufeyson purchases twenty boxes of Savannah Smiles and three boxes of trefoils. This information causes the sound of snickering to flow in the room. 

“What?” He snaps,when he turns his head everyone is quick to hide their smiles and laughter.  

“I never would’ve pictured you as a Savannah Smiles guy,” chuckles Mr. Strange. 

Mr. Kent purchases forty-five boxes of thin mints. Mr. Wade orders fifteen thin mints and fifteen do-si-dos. 

She steps in front of her uncle

“Hi Uncle Sam!” 

“Hi Princess, I see you’re selling cookies?” 

“Yea, would y’wanna buy some?” She holds out the clipboard, a smile on her face.

“Are you kidding me, hand that over” he smiles, his gap on display. Without a second thought he writes the number 75 next to his name. It didn’t matter what he got, as long as he put a smile on his co-god daughter's face (yes, ‘co’ because Bucky and Sam wouldn’t stop arguing over who her Godfather would be, and you and Steve weren’t sure if you wanted any more kids.) 

She takes the clipboard and the cash, eyes blowing wide at the double digit number, “seventy-five!! Thank you so much, Uncle Sam!” Throwing herself into his arms. 

“No problem” he smiles, squeezes her, then kisses the top of her head. 

She skips her way to her Uncle Bucky.

“Hi Uncle Bucky! I’m selling cookies to earn my super seller patch, would you like to buy cookies?” 

“Of course, skipper, I couldn’t leave my goddaughter hanging like that could I?” 

By his name he writes the number 80 and hands it and the cash to Elysia. Her eyes grow even wider at the number. There were a lot of things Elysia hadn’t learned at the ripe age of five, but one thing she did was that 80 is larger than 75.

“Eighty! Thank you so much!” She hugs her uncle tightly. Who smiles down at her and kisses her head also. 

“Leysia, you mind if I see that clipboard,” 

She looks up at him with concern in her eyes, before handing the clipboard over. Before she knows it, he’s handed it back to her. The number seventy-five is crossed out and its place is ninety-five. One thing each man could not stand was being upstaged by the other, especially in front of their goddaughter.

Bucky snatches the clipboard from his hands, taking a pen from the pocket in his suit jacket. Crossed off is the number eighty and its place one-hundred. Sam takes it back quickly writing another, and the cycle continues three more times before they finally call it a truce. 

Elysia collects the money with pure giddy, at this rate she’d get way past the super seller patch! 

Finally, she trots over to her father who lifts her onto his lap, kisses her cheek before tickling her a little bit as she squirms in her lap giggling. 

“Let’s see how well you swindled these chumps,” he jokes, looking over the paper as he calculated the numbers in his head. “295 boxes! All right doll” he nudged her chin with his knuckle. “You’re well on your way past the super seller patch, you might even get the top cookie seller patch,” he grins. 

“Really!”

“Really” he answers, “You head back to mom, okay, I’ll see you guys at home later.” 

“Okay, see you, love you” she wraps an arm around his neck before kissing his bristly cheek. 

“I love you too” 

-

He just walked through their bedroom door right when she slipped on her navy, silk nightie. 

“You” he points at her then crooks it back and forth. 

She sauntered over to him with a meek smile on her face, throwing both arms around his waist. 

“Yes,” she answers sweetly. 

He had to keep his mind on track, but the smell of her lotion was doing things to him. 

“You.” He takes her cheeks in his palms, pulling her in for one kiss, “You are diabolical, you know that?”

“Well” you hum, “You call it diabolical, I call it networking.” You shrug. “She was freaking out over the patch, how much did she end up getting.”

“Two-ninety-five” he grins. 

“Awhh, was she happy?” You ask. 

“She was ecstatic,” he motions with his hand. 

“You’re such a good dad,” you hum, eyes going low as your finger trailed the side of his jaw then over his eyebrow. 

“You’re a terrific mom” he responds, leaning so his lips locked with yours. He pulls back, “Is this night ending how I think it will”

“Maybe?” you answer, pecking his chin. 

Before you know it, everything is upside down and a stinging pain on your ass.

#steve rogers #mafia steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers x fem reader #steve rogers x you #chris evans x reader #marvel fanfiction #dad steve rogers #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers one shot

[disasterofastory]

Super Soldiers Masterlist

Bucky Barnes

2022

Surprise - You wait for Bucky at home. /18+

Winter is coming - You are his home. Always. /18+

Late night ride - Bucky gives you more than a tip when you arrive with his order. /18+

Good boy - Bucky likes to hear how good he is. /18+

Watch it - Bucky shows you something. /18+

Relief - While Bucky was away, you got in trouble and he has to help you. /18+

2023

Trouble - You attack Bucky on a Sunday morning.

Series

The Maid of Mr. Barnes Masterlist

Demon!Bucky Masterlist

Steve Rogers

2021

It’s great - Steve wants to prove himself. /18+

Both - A quick phone call with Steve.

2022

Firm hand - Steve gives you a lesson about following his rules. /18+

Captain - Steve wants to try out new things. You are the new thing. /18+

Yes, Master - Your Master shows you how perfect you are in front of the whole club. /18+

On the side of the road -  You have a better idea than spening your night at the police station. /18+

Series

Alpha!Steve Rogers Masterlist

The Pretty Little Actress Of Rogers Masterlist

Stucky

2021

Neighbours with extras - A night with Steve and Bucky. /18+

In a motel - You and the soldiers have to spend the night in a motel. /18+

Something wonderful (Completed) - Bucky joins your relationship with Steve and Christmas is coming. /18+ //Moodboard

Part 1 // Part 2

2022

Good girl - After a fight you get closer to the soldiers. /18+

Boys - You are their favorite professor. /18+

While Wanda is away - Steve and Bucky take care of you. /18+

Series

Doll Masterlist

North Pole Masterlist

Friends to lovers Masterlist

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #stucky x reader #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #mafia au

[buckybarnesb-tch]

I have a Story Stuck in my Head!

Hybrids Mafia Princess Series

I want to know if anyone thinks of something similar because this one has been running through my head for months. You know the story you tell in your head to fall asleep to? This has been mine for a while.

Mafia!Bucky Barnes and his girl have been together for years now and have a daughter, she has been the light of her fathers life since the day she was born, spoiled rotten.

As she got older though they grew apart, Bucky having no clue what to do with a teenage daughter, he still adores her of course, but she feels as if he has forgotten about her for years…

Cue Klaus Mikaelson!

Y/n meets Klaus at some party her father is forced to bring his wife and daughter to, schmoozing with all of the political idiots New York has to offer and Klaus (who has only recently broken his curse mind you) realizes that Y/n is his wolfs mate, one he has craved since the day he first killed and turned into a werewolf over 1000 years ago.

Klaus introduces himself, getting his girl a drink and flirting, barely noticing all of the looks he receives from the men around the room who all know better than to get that close to James Barnes daughter. They end up in a corner talking about anything and everything, both of them loving how honest they are able to be with each other for what feels like the first time ever, until of course one of her fathers men shows up. She quickly tells Steve to fuck off before pulling Klaus outside, insisting he leaves, giving him time to get away from her father and though Klaus doesn’t care about the man, he sees her fear and he does as she asks.

Later that night, after her mother scolded her all the way home for leaving her security (something that she’s sure was really her fathers issue but he had forced her mother to bring it up, making her feel like her father was avoiding her again) she hears a knock on her window and opens it to find her sexy Hybrid waiting for her to invite him in. They spend the whole night talking and Klaus tells her everything, knowing that his mate would be the one person that wouldn’t judge him or leave him. Y/n also told Klaus about her life, about who her father is and how she feels unloved by him and trapped in this house, and Klaus swears to save her, promises to give her a life away from her fathers business and cruelty (not that Klaus’ cruelty is any better but at least he won’t ever let her wonder whether he loves her or not, she will always know and that is a comfort to her in every way she needed).

One of Bucky’s men sees Klaus sneaking out her window before dawn and informs his boss, running a background check on the man and finding 5 different identities, this convinces Bucky that the man was sent by one of his enemies to hurt him by getting to his daughter. Bucky berates her for being so stupid to fall for this and though she knows the truth she can’t tell him about Klaus, she swore she would tell no one and she won’t break her promise. Bucky breaks Y/n’s heart, believing her so dumb and naive but she allows him to think this of her, already believing her father hates her anyway, which is why she does not hesitate to run away with Klaus later that night.

Bucky searches for her for months, his heart broken at the idea that his daughter thought she was unloved by him. He needed her to know that it wasn’t true and he was just an idiot who didn’t know how to care for a teenage girl. Eventually he finds a man who had been dealing with Klaus lately, clearly not knowing that he was a vampire and ending up injured beside Steve with the rest of his men all slaughtered.

It’s then that Y/n shows up, more beautiful than Bucky had ever seen her, screaming at the creature and demanding he explain why he believed he had the right to harm her family, shocking Bucky and Steve both at how terrified this man was of her. They quickly realized however that it wasn’t really Y/n that he was afraid of as Klaus shows up…

Honestly I have many different endings to that story at this point but it’s been rotting my brain for a while now so I thought ‘maybe someone else will like it too’ and here we are🤣

Mafia!Bucky’s Daughter is Klaus’ Mate Moodboard

#the vampire diaries #the originals #Marvel #Avengers #vampire #tvd klaus #hybrid #niklaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #klaus imagine #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson x reader #Bucky Barnes #James Barnes Daughter #mafia!bucky barnes #Mafia!Bucky #mafia!james Barnes #mob!bucky #mob!steve rogers #mob boss!bucky #mob boss bucky barnes #mafia bucky barnes #klaus mikaelson fluff #Klaus Mikaelson and Bucky Barnes fic idea #klaus x reader #klaus x y/n #bucky barnes x daughter!reader

[bi-ss]

~ Ties that bind ~

Bucky x reader- arranged marriage.

Summary: You agreed to arrange marriage when you were little, after seeing who you are to marry. You wish you could go back.

Warning- drinking? None i can't think of.

(Spelling may be bad as I'm very dyslexic sorry in advance)

You've been staying in your bestfriends apartment for 2 days now, you've just had more time to think about what will become of your life, you didn't get as many texts from James as you thought when you went to bed around 11PM but oh lord when you woke up it wouldn't stop going off, in all truth your phone died and you fell asleep with it on charge.

"Omg, would you turn that off.. It's 6:30, i love you, but not that much.." your friend groaned as she walked over to your phone to turn it off seeing you still in your make shift bed, you were about to get up and go get coffee but a 'huh' your friend made caught your attention.

"What? If it's something stupid, imma smack you so hard.." You look at your now bright screen to see unread texts coming through from an unknown caller, you picked it up and started reading some, with her reading over your shoulder, your were confused at first because you didn't know who it was but when finding out who thought it would be an amazing idea to text you at an ungodly time, but you soon figured it out, it was james.

You were annoyed at not only did he get home at 1am close to 2 so you would have been there for hours on your own but because he was the last person you wanted to talk to.

Rolling your eyes you went on with your life, making and drink a cup of coffee then getting ready to attend a fashion show, you weren't walking but you were invited with front row seats and couldn't pass it up, and there was have after party which you managed to get your friend into aswell somehow, so a minimum of 6 hours away from James and all the stress in the world.

"I wonder if theres cute guys there? I hope so. Ugh, after me and Josh broke up, I've been so lonely.. in bed, of course, i dont want commitment!" You watch as your best friend since college, Chloe, yapped about boys while realising for the 4th time today what's going to change when you marry James, "have you seen Joshs new girlfriend, I think we went to high school with her.. shes nice..." As she continues to gossip while doing makeup, you zone out and think about your life until she claps, getting your attention once again, "you know what?! I'm happy for Josh. I'm happy being single. He's happy being non single." She smiled at you."You should be happy you're marrying one of the most richest and most powerful men in America, probably the world, maybe.." You just nod and smile at her. You don't know if you are smiling because she's smiling or if what she said was correct, you're sure you'll find out.

While driving to the fashion show, the topic of James was brought up, "if I were marrying him, I'd be in his bed so fast," Chloe stated for the 38th time. "Is it true? The rumours about his arm, that's is.. no doubt the rumours about his dick aren't false -" You zone out from your friends rant about James when your phone screen lit up from a text... his text.. one after the other..

You zoned back in to hear chloe talking about Zeon. In all fairness, you didn't know who he was, but also, she hadn't spoken about him til now, or you think so? You were about to ask who he was until you see a modern building with lots of windows and a weird looking woman statue but with no curves and all straight lines and spikes, it did make you uncomfortable in an unspeakable way but you got out of the car and walked past it while looking down, you walked up to the bouncer you, showing your Ids and was let in, after the man blocking the door with a clipboard questioned chloe about if she was in the right place or not.

You were seated towards the end of the runway, which you didn't mind, but what you did mind was the constant camera flash some for the models but mostly for you.. that isn't helping you stay away from James, but you do like attention. The event was over later than you expected as some older women went on a rant about how fashion changed and how it was disturbing now or whatever.

You parked in a 24/7 parking zone and walked a little over 10 minutes for the after party that was already in full swing when you got there, heading straight towards the bar with chloe walking close behind to order a mocktail since you dont drink often but over to your left chloe was downing tequila shots like water, that wasn't surprising but what was surprising was when she ordered a cocktail and sent it your way, she knows you don't drink but looking around and seeing all the lady's glancing at you knowingly you thought this was one of the rare occasions where you will drink, and drink you did.

You knew from the start that marrying James Barnes wouldn't be easy from all his "fans" who are just girls throwing themselves on him but finding out he has a girlfriend? A whole other can of worms you didn't realise opened but the girls at this club were a new level of bitchy, like one tried spilling her red wine on you but ended up missing and it went over the lad next to you who weren't amused at all or when you were dancing with chloe and some other chick tried tripping you but you stepped over her foot unknowingly but 30 seconds later you did almost trip yourself up, but that's about the last thing you remember apart from getting more drink and getting hit on some else happening then dancing on someone or dancing on your companion.

But you do know 1 thing for certain is that you've woken up with a massive banging head ache in a warm bed, half dressed and with what you assumed someone sleeping next to you as they haven't moved, unless they're watching you sleep?

(Lol sorry i hadn't been posting i just moved, lmao, so that's taken most of my time)

TAGS: @learis @unaxv @cjand10 @pattiemac1 @coffee-winter-and-silence @scott-loki-barnes @blackhawkfanatic

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #1950s #arranged marriage #avengers #black widow #bucky barnes smut #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky smut #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #kinda soft staring though but like imagine winter soldier cold hate stare #winter solider x reader #winter solider smut #winter soldier #marveladdicts #sebastian stan smut #steve rogers #bucky x y/n #sharon carter #slow burn #god i watched it today and it made me realize i wouldn't mind him staring at me like that #so hot 🔥🔥🔥 #smut #mafia au

[neonovember]

Redwood Oak’s

Mafia!au x Steve Rogers

CHAPTERS: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 

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

divider by @firefly-graphics​ !

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look”, and Steve learnt to listen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coughing, he straightens his suit, before motioning forward

“We’re here”

“Hmh? Where is here-” You say

“Oh”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And who is this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does that even mean?” You reply

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t lying before,” You say

“Hmph?” Bucky asks, clocking his eyebrow

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You close your eyes and it comes to you,

Redwood oaks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, hey, look at me” Bucky replies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#james bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #mafia!au #mafia!steve rogers x female reader #mafia!steve rogers #mob steve rogers #mob!steve rogers x woc!reader #mob!steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x black female reader #steve rogers x black!reader #mafia!steve rogers x black!reader #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!sam wilson #mafia!avengers #innocent!reader #neonovember #neo writes #mafia!steve rogers x woc!reader #mob!steve rogers x black!reader #tapttd #series #mafia!steve rogers series #mob!bucky x reader #mafia!bucky #mob!steve rogers x innocent!reader #steve rogers x innocent!reader

[gaysindistress]

Dial Drunk - part 2 of Fine Line

Pairing: Mafia!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: angst and the feels oh and Peggy Carter slander

Word count: 2.1k words

Master list

Fine line 1 & Cocaine Jesus 3

Tag list: @vickie5446 @cakesandtom​

a/n: I love a good song fic. Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan sponsors this fic so I highly suggest you listen to it.

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

“Son, is there someone I can call for you?” the Sheriff asks while half dragging and carrying a drunk Steve into the station. Under the dead weight of the mafia boss, the elderly Sheriff struggles to get them inside as the rain pelts them so hard, he’s expecting there to be bruises on both of them.

Steve mumbles something as his head lolls to the side but the other man cannot make out a single word or number for that matter. At the door, he waves to his deputies to him with the door and he all but drops Steve onto his younger deputies.

“Son, I don’t know your name. Where is your wallet or your phone?”

Steve shoves his hand into his coat pocket which sends all of them into high alert but it’s all false as he dumps the asked for items onto a desk. The Sheriff gets to work to figure out his name and find an emergency contact or anything at all that might be helpful.

“Alright, Mr. Rogers,” he announces as he types away at a computer, no doubt pulling up Steve’s criminal record as well as his contacts, “Should I call a Mrs. Margaret Carter Rogers? Is that still current?”

Steve scoffs at the name as he falls into a seat next to the Sheriff, “My own wife hates me.”

A deputy gives the Sheriff a look but he ignores it and calls the number nonetheless. Steve slumps back into the hard chair and drops his head back in attempts of sleeping off the horrendous hangover he’s going to have. The phone rings and rings, leaving him with just the dial tone as Peggy ignores the call. They try again but nothing happens. She ignores the call. They try a third time and finally she answers.

“Hello?” her accented voice wakes Steve.

“Hi is this Mrs. Margaret Carter Rogers?”

She snorts, “Not anymore. If this is about Steve, call someone else. I don’t care”

The dial tone replaces her voice and all of the officers look at each other in disbelief.

“Did… Did she just hang up?” the same deputy asks.

The sheriff clears his throat and brushes over his thick gray mustache as he thinks about what to do next.

“I told you she hates me,” Steve pipes up, “Wasted your time.”

“Is there anyone else we can call?”

He shrugs, “She won’t answer either.”

Behind them two deputies are whispering to each other about how wrong it was of Peggy to hang up but quickly stop when the Sheriff gives them a pointed look.

“Maybe SHE will answer. What’s her name and number?” He extends the phone out to Steve who drops it and has to slowly reach down to pick it up. It takes him longer than usual to open it and find the number of the woman whose house he practically ran from. After he left Y/N’s house, he found the nearest bar and drank the place out of anything that would numb the rejection pain. For ten years, he dreamed of nothing but seeing his girl again and when he finally did, his past decisions ruined any chance of a relationship with her again. For ten years, he resented Peggy, his father, his mother even and himself for not fighting harder for Y/N. For ten years, he regretted everything he had done and prayed that somehow he could go back in time to just be with her.

“Y/N hates me too.”

Still the sheriff dials the number and hopes that this mystery woman will answer the phone. It rings five times and they’re all beginning to think that this will be a repeat of the first call but she does answer.

Her voice is raw from crying but she answers, “Hello?”

“Hi ma'am, is this Y/n?”

“Yes, how can I help you?”

“Well ma’am, this is the Kings County sheriff department. I’m Sheriff Anderson. I have Steve Rogers here and he’s going to be held overnight in the drunk tank or you can come pick him up.”

“Shit, okay. Um…” there’s a long pause but they can hear her shuffling around, “I can be there in 45 minutes, is that okay?”

“Yes of course ma’am. We appreciate you answering the phone so late and coming right away.”

“Uh… yeah no problem I guess,” she mumbles something else but Steve doesn’t catch it.

Anderson motions to his deputies and has them take Steve to a cell while he waits. He’s half asleep and even heavier than before as they haul him into his own cell. Next to him is another lonely drunk stranger who was ignored and left to figure their shit out alone. Regardless he can’t be bothered to care and he shucks off his overcoat to use it as a pillow. Crossing his arms over his chest and his legs over each other, he settles into a short nap while he waits for Y/N. A part of him isn’t even sure that she is actually coming and he’s starting to convince himself that she never answered the door in the first place. She’s not coming to take him home…there's no home where they live together. There is no place where they love and support each other because he destroyed that when he married Peggy. Tears begin to grow heavy on his eyes but he won’t allow himself to cry over the past no matter how recent it might be.

He pulls his arms tighter across himself and rolls over so that his back faces outwards. With his face hidden, the tears start to fall against his will and he does nothing to stop them even though just moments ago he vowed that the past wouldn’t bother him. He doesn’t try to wipe them and lets the pain metastasize in his body, growing a tumor of emotions that can’t be cured by anything.

Time slips away from him as the memories and hurt wash over him. Anderson clears his throat to get Steve’s attention and starts to unlock the cell’s door.

“We took his keys so you can drive it home if you didn’t bring your own car,” Anderson says to Y/N.

She smiles and nods, taking the keys from him and clutching them as she stares at the sad excuse of a man laying on the bed. Steve wipes at his eyes and groans as he slides off of the hard jail bed. Shaking out his pillow coat, he puts it on before making eye contact with her. She sighes at him and thanks Anderson for all that he’s done even though it’s not procedure. When Steve stands, he sways and she’s quick to catch him, waving off Anderson who offers to take him. They don’t say anything to each other as she acts as his crutch and walk towards his car. She fumbles with the keys and drops them.

“Lean on the car,” she tells him as she bends down to pick them up, “Do you need my help getting in?”

He furrows his brow like a toddler, “No I can do it myself.”

Shaking her head at him, she unlocks the car and lets him struggle to fold his large body into the passenger side. She slides into the driver’s side and takes a deep breath. Never again did she think that she would dealing with Steve let alone driving his car as he’s almost black out drunk in the passagner seat.

He mumbles something along the lines of “It’s a remote start.”

Y/N hums her understanding and finds the button. It blinks to life and heavy metal music greets them at an unbearable volume. He whimpers at the noise and slams his hand onto the power button to turn it off as quick as he can. Satisfied that the offending noise has stopped, he curls into himself against the window and rests his head on the cool glass.

“Did you put your seat belt on?”

He answers by puling the belt over himself and clicking it into place.

She backs out of the spot and leaves the Sheriff’s station behind. Silence fills the space around them as the street lights and porch lights pass through the window. The lights splash across her face and unbeknownst to her, Steve is stealing glances at her through the window’s reflection. What little he can see of her breaks his heart even more as he can see the fatigue and hurt tense in her features. Her hair, usually styled and pristine, has been hastily clipped up with a claw clip that’s holding on for dear life. Under the long winter coat she’s wearing is just a pair of pj pants and a white crop top. She’s not even really wearing shoes but instead a pair of worn down clogs that should only be worn inside. Seeing how vulnerable she is, he can’t help himself grow protective and upset that she left in such a hurry.

“I hope you drove,” slips out albeit slurred.

“What?” she asks, quickly looking over at him.

“I said I hope you drove.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Do you see what you’re wearing?”

She blinks and scoffs at him, “I just picked your drunk ass up at 2 am and you want to lecture me about my clothing choices.”

“That’s not what I….”

She cuts him off, “Stop. You’re sleeping on the couch and I expect you to be gone when I wake up.”

“Honey.”

“Don’t. I already made myself clear earlier; I want nothing to do with you. I should’ve left you at the stupid station,” she mumbles the last part to herself but he still hears it and sews his mouth shut. The rest of the car ride back to her house is quiet aside from the normal noise of the car and the city.

She wants to regret hurting him with her words but she can’t find it in herself to care anymore. Maybe it’s the exhaustion or the petty side of her that strives to inflict as much pain as she can onto him. He did deserve it after all and he’s not protesting at least out loud.

Internally he wants to confess his undying love for her but he knows she won’t care and it won’t change her mind. He does deserve all of her hate and anger. It’s all just no matter how harsh it might be.

Steve keeps stealing glances of her in his window’s reflection and accepts the heartache it induces. Her house comes into view and he can feel her relax when it does. She pauses before fully pulling it and has the garage door open to hide his car from sight in it.

Once inside, she turns it off and waits for the door to shut completely before getting out. Steve watches as she kicks her shoes off and takes off her coat, leaving her in her thin pjs. He climbs out and does the same as her. Following her inside, she instructs him to sit at the island like before while she goes to get him blankets and pillows.

His eyes find the Polaroid again and the memories replay again. The sound of Y/N dropping a stack of bedding brings him around again.

“Here’s a couple blankets and a pillow. Don’t worry about folding them, I'll have to wash them.”

She turns to leave but he calls out softly and stops her, “thank you.”

Her hand rests on the wall beside her and she drops her head to rest on it.

“Why do you do this to yourself?”

“I want you back. I want YOU.”

She faces him again, “That’s not how this works. You don’t get to make a reappearance and magically everything goes back to how it was.”

Steve pushes off and is before her in a few short strides. He gently holds her face in his warm hands and refuses to let go even though she tugs lightly at his wrists.

“Give me another chance. Please honey, just one more chance,” he begs her as he touches his forehead to hers. Y/N’s eyes flutter closed and her breathing grows shallow, hot breath brushing against his face.

He nudges her head back and ghosts his lips over hers, waiting for her to push him away. When she doesn’t, he captures her lips in a slow and intimate kiss. Everything he’s felt over the last 10 years is flooding her as he moves his lips over hers. Every promise he’s made to himself in her name is conveyed as he sighed against her lips.

She’s the first to pull away and is shaking her head when she does so.

“No.”

#mob au #mafia! steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x y/n #mafia steve rogers x reader #mafia steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fine line steve rogers #steve x reader #Steve rogers #marvel imagine #mafia au

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Protect & Respect

Title: Protect & Respect

Pairing: Mafia!Steve x Former FBI Agent!Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Language, kidnapping, non-consensual drug use, weapons, kissing

Summary: After Steve goes missing, Y/N meets up with a rival mob boss to organize his safe return.

A/N: This is the first time I’ve written Mafia!Steve! It was fun to write, so please let me know if you enjoyed it. As always, thank you for reading this story and supporting me in all the ways you do!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

The drive to their specified location is only a short distance from your Brooklyn apartment, but you get there in half the time. As you turn the corner, you realize you’re only half a block from your old apartment, the moldy one in Queens that Steve moved you out of as soon as you’d gotten together.

Once parked, you grab the bag Bucky had put together while you’d paced back and forth in Steve’s office, then climb out of the black SUV. You slam the driver’s side door shut and stalk across the empty street, ignoring the old man who watches you from the edge of the shadows with a greedy look in his eye. You have bigger fish to fry.

You toss the zipped duffel at Javier’s feet as soon as you’re close enough. A few feet behind him, his two buddies stand with Steve smack dab between them. He’s on his side in the gravel, his eyes closed. There are no visible wounds, but you don’t trust that he’s unharmed, like they’d said on the phone.

Slowly, casually, and taking great pleasure in your anger, Javier reaches down to pick up the bag. His rings glint in the yellowed security light on the nearby workshop. You’ve always thought he dressed too ostentatiously, but now you wish you could shove his rings down his throat, one by one, just so he could suffer.

“It’s all there,” you snap when he starts to unzip the bag, and you push past him to crouch near Steve’s head. “Steve, can you hear me?”

His hands are tied tightly behind his back with a thick black zip tie and you almost gag at the stench coming off of him. He’s been missing for several days now, and it’s clear that he’s been in their hands for just as long. You don’t need to search his clothing for humiliating stains to know that. Javier has never treated his prisoners well. As soon as you’re done exacting your revenge on his kidnapper, you’re going to make sure your husband gets a bath, a good meal, and a thorough examination from Dr. Banner.

Carefully, you place your hand on Steve’s head, stroking his hair with your thumb, but he doesn’t even stir under your attendance. Something clicks inside your brain and you slowly lift your eyes to glare at Javier, the anger inside of you rising to a head.

“What did you give him?” you grind out.

Javier clicks his tongue. “One would think the boss would be a little more careful. All I had to do was mention you, and he was ready to be at my beck and call. It was quite amusing, actually.” He shoves the bag towards the man to your right.

“What did you give him?” you repeat, your voice rising in pitch as your anger and desperation grows. Steve was strong, and thanks to the secret government programs he’d been subjected to during his time in the military, he was practically immune to every kind of drug. To render him unconscious, they would’ve had to either pump his system full of enough drugs to kill any mere mortal or give him something strong, something you couldn’t access on the street. If they had access to something like that, it means that they’d made a deal with HYDRA, and that would mean Steve’s kidnapping went deeper than just Javier’s meager show of power.

The man on the left steps closer, leaning down to grab your arm. You jerk away, slapping him across the face. Your voice has reached an unholy screech as you repeat the question, but Javier is unfazed. His fingers twitch and suddenly your arms are behind your back. You struggle against his lackey’s grip, but your anger does you no good. You suddenly wish you’d taken Steve’s offer of training more seriously. It’s been over a year and a half since you’d had to do any kind of fighting, and though your former FBI training is still ingrained deep into your bones, you’re rusty, and it’s too late by the time you’re ready to fight back. Why hadn’t you just told Bucky where you were going? Why hadn’t you let Clint or Natasha come with you, even though you’d vowed to come alone?

“You really believed that you could save him?” Javier mocks. The man holding you hostage chuckles in your ear and you shudder, attempting once again to wrench yourself away from him. The other man brusquely pats you down, but you’d stayed true to every term of the agreement. You’d come unarmed, even though you now severely regretted it.

“Let us both go and maybe you’ll live to see the end of the week,” you spit.

“You’re nothing but a whore to warm the Captain’s bed.”

A cold sense of dread fills you as you’re yanked to your feet. The man pushes you back towards the street and you stumble, craning your neck to see Steve’s still form on the ground.

“Let me go!”

Nobody answers you as you’re dragged to a black sedan tucked into the shadows of the warehouse. You catch a glimpse of the old man across the street as you struggle, and his eyes follow you as the lackey pushes you into the trunk, but he does nothing to help. The trunk is slammed shut and you narrowly avoid getting clipped as you fight to get out.

“Load him up into the backseat, and give him another dose,” Javier orders, his voice muffled by the metal around you. “We don’t need him waking up before we get there.” He pounds on the top of the trunk and you flinch at the banging. “Comfortable? We’ve got a long drive ahead of us, sweetheart.”

You shout at him and struggle, making the car rock beneath you, but it’s no use. The trunk is locked shut, and when you scramble for the emergency release, you realize that it’s gone. They’ve somehow removed it, leaving you well and truly fucked. All you can do is sit tight and keep calm. The drive to wherever you’re headed will be an opportune time to think of a plan to fight back and get both you and Steve home where you belong.

The car starts with a grumble and a whine, and it lurches beneath you when the driver accelerates. It takes you twenty-five minutes of listening to the muffled crap radio they’re playing in the car before you remember the device Natasha had sewn into your bra.

You have to wiggle a little to get the right angle, but after several long moments, you press the button in the tracking device. A soft beep is the only response you get, but you let out a sigh of relief. Natasha would get the signal. You’d be rescued soon enough.

By the time the car slows to a stop and the trunk opens, the sun is rising. The inky black sky is starting to grow lighter, changing to dark blue, then to a paler shade the closer it gets to the ground. You’ve dozed off several times, and you open your eyes just as one of Javier’s henchmen opens the trunk. You glare up at him.

“Bring her inside,” Javier orders, somewhere on the driver’s side of the car. “Stick her in the guest room.”

You don’t have any time to wonder what he means by “the guest room” before the man is grabbing you and pulling you from the trunk. You stumble as he shoves you towards an imposing manor surrounded by nothing but tall, dark pine trees. They block the sunrise, though the lightness creeps up towards their tops with every passing minute.

Javier is climbing the wide marble steps to the front door. It’s braced with Grecian columns, and a black lantern hangs above the white marble entryway. 

“Your vacation home looks a little worse for wear,” you bite.

He only turns around and gives you a sickening grin before the front door is opened by a short woman in a traditional gray maid’s uniform. She gives him a small curtsy, and you hold back a groan of disgust. Of course Javier wanted to be curtised to.

Steve is nowhere in sight, and when you turn around to see if he’s still in the backseat of the sedan, the man leading you inside shoves his gun between your shoulder blades.

“Keep walking, whore,” he hisses, and you shudder at his hot breath in your ear.

You’re led inside the house, then down into the basement. After carefully descending the stairs, you enter a long hallway. The man shoves you through the first metal door you come to, and you fall onto your hands and knees. He slams the door behind you, and a light flickers on above as the lock engages.

Slowly, you sit back on your heels to inspect your hands. You’re not bleeding, but you flex them and wince at the sting from your fall. Once you’re sure that you’re not seriously injured, you take in your surroundings.

The room has four walls of gray concrete, with a steel door behind you. The ceiling and floor are also concrete, and there’s a prison-like toilet and sink combination in the corner next to the door. There are two cameras: one pointed at the door and the other pointed at the bed, which is just a twin-size metal bed frame with a chintzy mattress laid on top. There’s no pillow, but the blanket looks thin and scratchy. Clearly, Javier and whatever HYDRA operative he’s working with care very little for their assets.

Climbing to your feet, you take inventory of yourself. Your muscles are tense from the cramped drive from Queens. You quickly do the math in your head. If the sun is just rising and you’d gone to meet Javier at midnight, then you’d driven for at least six hours, which could put you in a number of states. You’d activated the tracking device less than an hour into the drive, so if you were lucky, Nat and the rest of the team would be here soon enough. You just had to hope that Steve was somewhere else in the manor, rather than the two of you being separated.

The blanket sends up a cloud of dust when you flip it over on the mattress, making you cough. When there’s no sign of bugs or suspicious stains, you settle yourself in the corner of the mattress. You can fully watch the door from your spot, so you sit back against the cool concrete and wait.

Finally, after what feels like hours, the door opens and you’re greeted by the muzzle of a silenced gun, then Bucky’s grim expression. Upon seeing you, however, he relaxes and smiles just a little.

“Took you long enough,” you tease, and he lets out an indignant huff.

“You’re the one who waited so long to turn on the tracker. Are you hurt, mo bhanríon?” he asks, and with the lilt of the familiar name comes the first hint of comfort you’ve had in a few days.

You shake your head and slide off the bed, then take the extra gun he pulls from his thigh holster. After looking it over, you also take the knife he pulls out from his boot. You slip it in your own. 

“Maybe I just wanted to test your skills. Have you found Steve yet?”

Bucky shakes his head. “We’re still looking.” He leads you out into the corridor and the two of you begin searching behind the other metal doors. All of them open into cells identical to your own, but they’re empty of prisoners. 

When you reach the end of the hall, he taps the comms unit in his ear. “Basement’s clear. I found an bhanríon, she’s unharmed. Any sign of Steve?” 

You hold your breath, waiting as Bucky listens to the rest of Steve’s men as they report back. Finally, his shoulders slump and he closes his eyes, muttering Irish curses under his breath.

“What? What is it?” You step closer and grab Bucky’s prosthetic with your free hand. “Did they find him?”

Much to your relief, Bucky nods. He turns and begins to steer you toward the stairs leading up to the main floor of the manor.

“Is he okay?” you ask, glancing over at him as you walk. “They gave him something—I don’t know what. Whatever it was, though, it was strong. He was totally out of it, Bucky. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

He passes by you to climb the steps first, his gun drawn. “He’s okay. Be quiet, Y/N. Main floor isn’t clear,” he murmurs.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you try to refocus yourself on the task at hand. Being distracted in enemy territory is a stupid way to go, and you need to get back to Steve in one piece, just like you always promised you would.

You follow Bucky in silence, letting him clear the rooms first before you do your own sweep. The entire manor feels like it’s holding its breath. There isn’t a single noise as you move from room to endless room. It makes your stomach twist—where had Javier and his men gone? Where is the maid in the gray uniform who had met you at the door?

You’re on the last hallway when you finally hear a soft clatter from one of the rooms. Bucky tenses, and you give him a little more space as you trail behind. 

Slowly, he approaches the door. He waits for a moment, listening, and then he pushes his way in with his gun drawn. There’s a feminine scream and you grip your gun a little tighter.

“Where are they?” Bucky demands. His voice is as cold as ice and you shiver. You’d hate to be on the receiving end of “The Sergeant’s” questioning. He’s known across New York first for his prosthetic, and then for his ruthless interrogation skills.

“I don’t know!” a woman cries. “Mr. Smith told me to come wait here for him, but it’s been two hours! I heard noises, so I hid!”

There’s a pause as Bucky stares her down to determine if she’s telling the truth or not. You use that time to step forward into the doorway behind him and inspect the room. It’s a broom closet, more or less, with a square wooden card table and two matching chairs in the middle of the room. The walls are covered with hanging cleaning supplies, and there are several shelving units holding various boxes and bottles against the far wall. A small microwave sits on the back of the table, and a clock hangs in the only empty space on the wall a few feet above the microwave. From the looks of things, Javier has made the large closet into the poorest excuse for a break room that you’ve ever seen. You feel even worse for the woman. Not only did she have to work for and curtsy to one of the most ridiculous mob bosses you’ve ever met, but she didn’t even have a good place to eat her lunch in peace.

“She’s an employee here, Bucky,” you quietly tell him from behind. “She curtsied when Javier walked in. I don’t think she knows much of anything. None of his other men treated him the same way.”

Bucky grunts a little at that information, then lowers his gun. The woman lets out a sigh of relief, but she still trembles as she watches you from her spot on the floor beneath the table.

“Did they hurt you?” she asks, her voice wavering as she fixes her eyes on you.

You shake your head and offer her a brief, polite smile. “I’m fine. We need you to stay here until we figure out what to do with this place. Can you do that?”

The woman nods. “Yes, ma’am.” She pauses, looking between you and Bucky for a moment. “Your friend is being held in the conservatory.”

“Thank you,” Bucky replies, though you know they’ve already found Steve.

You turn and head back into the hallway as he gives the woman one last warning to stay put. Bucky follows you back the way you’d come after closing the door to the closet-turned-break room.

“The conservatory?” you ask, and Bucky hums behind you.

“Turn left,” he instructs when you reach the main hall again. 

He gives you directions as you walk, leading you down several long hallways till you reach the northeastern corner of the mansion. It’s bigger than it had looked from the front.

The sun is fully up now, and you’re greeted with the last remnants of the sunrise when you step through the French doors and into the conservatory. The room is massive, with windows braced with white trim making up the majority of the three outer walls. The ceiling stretches up almost fifty feet, and the floor beneath you is black and white checkerboard tile. Each square is at least four feet across.

All around you, plants of every size and shape grow together, creating the feel of a small, indoor forest. The majority of the plants are tropical. Some of them have leaves as big as the fancy dinner plates Steve’s employees pull out for galas, and there are hidden water spigots spraying a fine mist over them. There are palms dotted around the room, as well as hibiscus trees. A fountain sits in the center of the conservatory. Two large, potted palms sit in front of it, and between them there’s a red velvet settee. 

Your eyes find Steve’s immediately, and it feels like your legs give out for a second. Bucky’s still beside you, however, and he manages to keep you upright with an arm around your waist.

“Mo grá,” Steve says from where he’s seated on the center of the settee, and his deep baritone is like a balm to your soul. You close your eyes and let out a breath. It feels like you’re breathing for the first time in days. It’s definitely the first time you’ve been this relaxed.

When you meet his gaze again, Steve smiles wearily and holds out a hand. You close the distance between you and stand between his outstretched legs. He looks up at you, and the two men who’d been standing guard behind the couch move so they’re no longer in your line of sight. 

“Did they hurt you?” he asks. There’s a glint of anger in his eyes as he speaks, but you know better. The glint is just a hint of what’s hiding inside of him. Steve is furious that they’ve taken him, but he’s even more angry that they took you. You know he’s probably beating himself up over it, too.

You lift your hands and run them through Steve’s hair. Instinctively, he closes his eyes and leans into your touch, just like he always does.

“No, my love,” you gently answer. “I’m okay. How are you feeling? They gave you something… I don’t know what. Whatever it was, it was strong.”

You can hear the fear and uncertainty in your voice, and you wish that you could hide it better, but all the willpower in the world wouldn’t help you right now. You’ve never been able to hide anything from Steve. It’s how he’d discovered your true identity so quickly, even if he hadn’t revealed that to you until your investigation had been completely foiled.

“I’m fine,” he soothes. “A little tired, maybe.”

Nodding, you let Steve take your hand and kiss your palm, then close your fingers into a fist. He does the same to your other hand, and then he pulls you down to kiss him properly. He pulls you so close that you’re forced to straddle him with your knees firmly planted on the cushions on either side of him.

Behind you, Natasha clears her throat. Your cheeks grow hot when you remember that there are others present for your reunion, and you sit back so you can look at her from over your shoulder. Steve supports your weight with his knees underneath you and with both hands on your ass. Your own hands rest on your thighs.

“As touching as this reunion is, I have news,” she says. There’s a small smirk on her face, and you have to resist the urge to throw the nearest pillow at her.

“What is it, Natasha?” Steve asks. He’s all business again.

“We’ve found Javier, Captaen,” Natasha replies. She bows her head a little when she says his title, the same way every one of the mobsters does. It was strange to you when you first joined them, but you’ve grown used to it. The action is comforting, in a way. You know it means a show of respect for Steve, and with that comes respect and protection for you, too.

“And?”

“He’s finished.”

Steve nods once. “Good. We’ll be leaving soon. Round up any remaining men and take them to the office. Bring Jim and Frenchie with you.”

You’ve never been to Steve’s “office”. You’d tried, once, when you were still an agent assigned to uncover the syndicate, but Steve had prevented that from happening. Now, you have no desire to see the evidence of his work. You have no interest in the grizzly details of the Rogers Crime Family, even if you’re now a part of that family.

“One of Javier’s employees is in a room down the hall. She’s not one of his men, she just works in the house. What do you want us to do with her?” Bucky asks.

Steve stays quiet for a minute, and you feel his thumbs brush against the waistband of your jeans as he thinks. Finally, he looks up at you.

“What do you think, mo grá?” 

“Let her go. Pay her off,” you instantly tell him. You bring one hand up to cradle his cheek. “She’s innocent, I can tell.”

Steve nods once, then tilts his head to look past you at his oldest, most trusted friend. “You hear that, Buck?”

There’s no response, but Steve leans against the back of the settee and smiles softly, pulling you down to lay on top of him. He wraps his arms around you in a gentle embrace, so you can only assume that Bucky and Natasha have gone off to do Steve’s bidding, along with the two guards that had been here when you arrived, leaving the two of you alone in the conservatory.

“I was so worried,” you murmur, and Steve hums. 

“I wasn’t.”

You lean back a little so you can look at him. Steve has his head tilted back with his eyes closed, and there’s a soft smile on his face. The early morning light that streams in through the massive conservatory windows makes his hair and face seem glowing and almost ethereal. Somewhere in the room, a bird chirps its morning song, adding to the heavenly illusion.

“You weren’t?”

“No. I knew we’d be reunited again. We always are, mo rúnsearc,” Steve replies. He opens his eyes and your breath catches in your throat, just like it always does when he looks at you this intensely. You’ve been together for years now and yet somehow, Steve still takes your breath away.

You brush his cheekbone with your thumb before you drop your hand. His hands have moved to your hips, and you gently pull one of them off so you can intertwine your fingers.

“You haven’t called me that since we first started dating,” you tell him.

Steve chuckles. “You hated that nickname.”

“I didn’t know what it meant!” you protest, and he laughs again, this time more earnestly.

“You were such a confused little bird back then,” he says, affection clear in his tone. “You had no idea what you’d gotten yourself into.”

Shaking your head, you lean down to give him a chaste kiss. “No, I definitely didn’t. Not even in my wildest dreams would I have thought that I’d fall in love with the mob boss.”

“Tell me then,” Steve replies.

His other hand finds your own and you shift your weight so you can sit more comfortably in his lap. He’s totally focused on you and your response. Your heart swoops a little at the attention. Steve always knows how to make you feel heard and important, even when it’s only the two of you in the room.

“What would have been your wildest dreams back then?”

“My wildest dreams?” you ask. He hums, his thumb rubbing over your hand as he waits for your answer. You tilt your head and consider him for a moment, then give him a slow, sly smile. “Probably falling in love with the mob boss’ second in command.”

Steve scoffs and pulls one hand from yours so he can smack your thigh, and you laugh loudly, tilting your head back.

“You’re a little shit, Y/N.”

“I learned from the best,” you tease.

“I’m never letting you sit next to Bucky at game night ever again,” Steve says. He’s holding back laughter—the corner of his lips twitches as he tries not to smile, and his chest heaves a little.

“Does this mean you and I can team up and win Monopoly together? I’m sick of losing against him and Nat, and it’s not fair that I have to be on my own team!”

“Is that what it’ll take to keep you in love with me?” he asks.

Grinning, you nod furiously, and Steve fakes a belabored sigh. “I suppose we can team up.”

You gather his hand again and lean forward until your forehead rests against his. You’re both smiling wide now, and you close your eyes as his nose bumps against yours. 

“I already love you, Steve Rogers,” you murmur. “I’d follow you anywhere. I’d go to war for you, you know.”

“I know you would, and if I have anything to do with it, you never will,” he replies. You smile a little when you feel his hand pull from yours, then slide up your neck to cradle the back of your head so he can guide you into another kiss. “I will always protect you.”

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[imaginativeavengers]

We know that stucky is protective over reader, but to what extent?

I mean how do they react when she sneezes continuously, falls, hurts/ cuts/ burns herself (accidentally ofcourse)

I can imagine them being really protective.

Holding out hands for her to walk down stairs

Ensuring that she gets yearly flu shots

Keeping an eye out for any dangers whilst out

Picking up hot things before she has the chance to

Kissing her bruises and bumps better

I feel like Steve would take up the role of tending to her wounds, like if she took a tumble in an expensive pair of shoes then he would be the first to sitting her down and cleaning any cuts and then placing a plaster over the area.

Then I feel like Bucky would be in charge of all the aftercare, sitting her down with him, holding her into his side, maybe holding an ice pack to the swollen or aching area whilst Steve see's to making her a nice meal.

#the missing piece #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #marvel imagine #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x reader #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #bucky x reader #stucky x y/n #stucky x reader #stucky x you #stucky imagine #mafia!steve rogers #mafia!stucky #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #chris evans characters #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine

[biteofcherry]

Fancy cozy

soft mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

Nesting Masterlist

summary: You wanted a cozy celebration of New Year's and your husband happily provides.

warnings: none

This is pure fluff and coziness. Written for the Nesting universe as a result of this poll.

Happy New Year to you all!

Happy with the stack of food he managed to fit on the small coffee table, Steve surveyed the cozy nest he prepared for the two of you on the couch in the living room. Fluffy blankets at hand, pillows, all the remote controls. The lights were twinkling on the big Christmas tree, as well on the curtains along the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He was a confident man in general and this time Steve was quite certain he fit your request for a cushy New Year’s Eve perfectly. 

When he turned at the sound of your soft footsteps nearing, however, his confidence wobbled for a second. 

You paused mid step as you met Steve’s eyes and recognized a flash of surprise in his blue irises. It took you a moment to realize what shocked him. But as Steve’s gaze didn’t slide over you, instead roaming around your head, it dawned on you. 

You grinned, quite happy that you managed to surprise him in any way. Steve was always so sure of himself when it came to you and perceiving your needs (and truthfully, ninety nine percent of the time he was right). He predicted them, discovered them, and always remembered the smallest details. 

“What?” You shrugged when he kept staring at you and sauntered towards him with a sassy bounce to your step - so much reminiscing of the one you had when you first met Steve that one crazy weekend over a year ago.

“I said I want a cozy New Year’s Eve celebration,” you pointed at the soft, comfy pajamas you wore, “but it’s still a special occasion celebration, after all. A bit of fancy is a must.”

Hence your full-on, quite heavy makeup and jewelry shining around your neck and in your ears. 

When Steve asked what you’d like to do for New Year’s, you revealed you dreamt of just staying at home and being together. Without any fuss. Without any special preparations. There were options of some fancy parties, as well more close-knit ones (Natasha and Yelena were throwing a party); or journeys across the globe, if you wished.

As much as it tempted you to see the snowy glory of the lavish five star hotel in Karlovy Vary where Steve proposed to take you, you didn’t feel like going anywhere. Not this year, at least. 

You were mostly tired and overstimulated. Freshly after loud, full-family holiday celebrations, still learning how to be a mom of a newborn, how to juggle all these activities and responsibilities. You really just wanted some peace and quiet. 

But it didn’t mean you weren’t going to be a tiny bit fancy on New Year’s Eve. 

Even if it was a funny clashing result of styles.

Steve expected to see you in pjs, but not the smokey eye with glitter and false lashes glued on. Neither the diamonds sparkling in your ears and around your neck - both a gift from him. 

“You’re right.” Steve was always quick-witted, swiftly catching up with you. “Perhaps I should add some bling to my modest outfit, too? To make this cozy more fancy.” 

He brushed a hand across his torso, clad only in a simple white (so deliciously tight) undershirt. The few tattoos he had were almost on full display. The gray sweatpants he had on were hanging dangerously low on his hips and you thought this look was much sexier than if he was walking around in a tailored suit. 

“Nah,” you waved your hand, passing Steve and jumping onto the couch. “It’s impolite to look better than your wife.” 

“I’ll remember that,” Steve chuckled. 

He braced his hands on his hips as he watched you get comfortable. 

“Do you want anything that’s not at hand?” He asked, pointing at the coffee table. When you shook your head and grabbed a bowl of chips, he said: “I’ll check on Tommy and be right back.”

You checked on your sleeping baby boy before coming down, but there was no force nor reason that could stop Steve from doing his own check up on his son. It warmed your heart every time you witnessed Steve’s genuine love for your baby.  

Even if at times you were still silently questioning this whole marriage into which you were sort of forced, you also felt Steve’s love for you. 

Which is why it was so easy to snuggle to his side when Steve returned and took his spot on the couch right next to you. He draped one arm around you and picked the remote with his other hand. You let him flip through the channels, enjoying the simplicity of being together and watching whatever Steve was in the mood for. 

You watched one comedy, then two episodes of some new crime show. Some music channel played 80’s and 90’s hits for about forty minutes that you and Steve spent making out - slowly and softly, before settling back to watch tv. 

You dozed off for about an hour and though Steve claimed he was awake the whole time, you’re sure you heard a few snores of his through your light sleep. 

When the countdown to midnight started, you both got up. You stretched as Steve opened a bottle of alcohol-free champagne. He filled two flutes, but set them down on the table as he scurried away for a moment. He returned with shoes and coats for both of you, grinning at your questioning frown. 

“I have a little surprise,” it’s the only explanation you got as you pushed your feet into your fur-laced boots. 

Steve slid the patio door open and the two of you walked outside, champagne flutes in hands (and the baby monitor in Steve’s coat pocket). A few moments later the quiet, dark sky above the forest surrounding your estate burst with colors of sparkling fireworks. 

“Happy New Year, little wife,” Steve’s breath tickles your ear when he leans to murmur, before his mouth descends on yours. 

You didn’t feel like drinking champagne after that kiss, more interested in filling your mouth with more of Steve’s taste. But you sipped it as Steve wrapped his arms around you - your back to his chest - and you watched the fireworks show displayed in the night sky. 

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #mafia!steve rogers #mafia!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #nesting #nesting!steve rogers

[sweetsbfreex]

date night

summary: "..I would love to see mafia!steve and reader have a date night and be so suave and flirtatious. Meanwhile Elysia is running rings around the babysitter, and when the couple come back she’s all cute and tucked up"

+

"a mafia Steve hc with the “wear whatever u want I can fight”

in the dad!mafia!steve universe

pairings: dad!mafia!steve rogers x wife!reader

warnings: none!

-

“Honey, are you gonna wear the emerald tie?” You shout to Steve from your closet, sitting at your vanity as you put on your necklace. 

“Yeah, you asked me to,” Steve answers, the click of his shoes moving closer, as he adjusted his cufflinks. 

You smile at his cuteness. Not many, if any, could say they had Steve Rogers following their every word. 

When Steve stops at the entrance of your spacious, walk-in closet. He stops at the sight of you. 

You hid what you would wear tonight, the only hint being his tie color. He knows no matter what you wear, you’ll always shine. But this was killer. 

The emerald green dress falls over his wife gracefully. With a decent amount of her cleavage that makes him clench his jaw with need. 

“Look at my gorgeous girl,” he whistles. 

You smile up at him when he’s at your side, his hand out to raise you from your seat. He twirls you once, like a dainty fairy. Then stiffly brings you to him, your back to his chest. 

He moves your hair to the side. Your neck bare to him as he kisses up and down the side of your neck. His plump lips suck and nip at your skin, basking in your shallow breaths and fastened pace. 

“You’re gonna keep me strapped with a fucking hard on, with this little get up.” 

Impatiently, his hands grope at your sides, bunching up the fabric. That is until you stop his hands, turning so you are facing him. 

“You’ll wrinkle the dress,” you tell him, bringing your hands up to cup the sides of his neck. 

His hands fall to the lowest point of your back, fingers grazing the top of your ass. “You expect me to keep my hands to myself while you’re in this?” He scoffs. “Send me the dry cleaning bill” he leans down to kiss you, grinning when he pulls away and you wipe the lip gloss from his lips. 

“Are you sure this is alright?” Your hands run down your dress subconsciously. It was your first date night in a while. You didn’t want anything messing it up. 

“Honey, are you kidding me? You look phenomenal. So ignore whatever contradictions those thoughts of yours are telling you,” he kisses your cheek. 

“Thank you. You look really handsome.” your thumb runs over his bottom lip, gazing your eyes to his. “Your ass looks great too” you reach your other hand to slap it. 

“Woah!” He jumps in jest, chuckling. “Save that for tonight, all right?” he says this with a satisfied smirk. 

You giggle at his joke, bringing his face down for one more kiss. When you pull away, his stare seems intense. 

“Fuck.” He sighs as he gives you a once over, palming your cheeks. “I’m gonna have to fight someone off tonight, aren’t I?

“Shut up,” You laugh, kissing him again and again. “Let’s go before we miss the reservation”

In reality, for a man of Steve’s status, the restaurant would hold the reservation for as long as needed. No matter what, they’d be prepared and ready to service the Rogers’. The hefty tip was an added bonus, always causing disarray between the employees. 

-

Elysia sits next to Giana, the second oldest of the Gotti family. One of the few people you and Steve could trust to watch and protect Elysia if anything were to happen. 

She’s sixteen, and the biggest book lover you’ll ever meet. Her t-shirt compliments her brown skin and she’s all dressed up to babysit, with her curls up and out of her face. 

The two girls are sitting on the living room floor, completing a puzzle. 

“Wow!!” Elysia cheers, running to hug your legs, then Steve’s who lifts her onto his hip. 

“Thank you, honey” you lean to kiss her cheek. 

“You guys look great!” Giana compliments with a smile on her face. 

“Thank you so much, gigi,” you say at the same time Steve says thank you. 

“G, we’ll be back by 11, the latest. The credit card is on the dining room table, if you’re hungry or need anything, feel free to use it. And make sure this bug,” Steve tickles a squirming Elysia’s stomach. “Is in bed by nine, if you can. God forbid anything happens, you know which bookcase right?” 

“I do. All good,” Giana replies. 

“Okay, we’ll see you guys soon. Thank you so much for watching her” You kiss Elysia’s cheek multiple times, before you and Steve are hugging Giana goodbye.

-

PER SE 

The restaurant is dimly lit and the pleasant, soft sound of Louis Armstrong’s La vie en rose adds to the picturesque atmosphere. 

Your hand in hand with Steve as you follow the host to your seat. It’s private, lit with a beautiful chandelier and candle sat in the middle of the table, and pale pink peonies scattered around the table top. 

Your heart skips at the thought. The restaurant wouldn’t do this on their own, you know Steve had requested it. Peonies we’re your favorite. 

Steve pulls out your seat then pushes it in, then he’s sat across from you. One hand rests on the table, asking to hold yours. 

“Good evening, I’m Antonio. May I take your order for drinks, Mr and Mrs Rogers?” 

“You’re best red wine and a Château d'Yquem for the Mrs.” The accent rolls off his tongue gracefully. You love the way his voice goes down a pitch when he speaks another language. 

You pinch your eyes together at your husband. 

“Please,” he adds gravely. You smile at him. 

“Thank you,” you add, smiling up at the man. 

-

AT HOME

“Can I have a cookie, please?” Elysia pops up from her hunched figure over the puzzle. 

“Your mom said no sweets after eight,” Giana replies.

“Please!” She pleads once again, holding onto Giana’s arm. 

“I’m sorry, Lys, but your ma said no.”

“Fine.” Elysia huffs. Then she screams. She screams to her highest pitch relentlessly, hands in fists at her side. 

“Shh,” Giana tries, but to no avail. “Okay! Okay! Just one!” 

“Thank you!” Elysia smiles sweetly, lifting herself off the floor as she skips to the kitchen, awaiting Giana. 

Oh frick. Giana thinks to herself. 

-

PER SE 

“Do you remember when we went roller skating on our third date?” You ask, taking a bite of your mussels. 

“Yeah, but only because you asked to, I would never embarrass myself for a girl that wasn’t you.” Steve answers. “Try this,” he stretches his arms to bring his spoon to your lips. 

You smile at what he said. This man loved you so much and you couldn’t be more grateful. 

Roller skating was your idea, only because you wanted to try something a bit more active. You knew Steve probably wasn’t up for it, but you would never know with how quickly he replied with “Whatever you wanna do, sweetheart, I’m all yours.” 

The both of you busted your asses all night, but you did it together, alone. Steve rented out the place for a few hours, and got the DJ to play your playlist. 

“I really appreciate that, you know,” 

“What?” Steve wonders. 

“How sweet you are to me. You’re always willing to do whatever I wanna do and you’re always there. It's just nice. So thank you”

His eyes soften at your admission, “Honey, it’s my job. You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” He smiles, before reaching over to kiss you. 

-

AT HOME 

“Do you wanna play hide n seek?” 

“Okay, but this is the last thing we do before bedtime. And it has to be on this floor” 

Elysia is already dressed down in her cream, silk pajama set. All Giana has to do is set her in her bed, read her a bedtime story, and play one of her lullabies. 

“Okay! You count, G. I hide” Elysia orders, tapping her foot as she waits for Giana to turn around and count. 

Once she starts, Elysia goes to the kitchen and quickly ducks into her special hiding spot. 

Giana turns around and quickly realizes how bad of an idea this is. Their house is expansive. There’s an unlimited variety of crooks and crannies that Elysia’s small body could fit through. 

Giana walks through the living room, “Lys? Maybe we should just go to bed.” She couldn’t lie, but she was getting freaked out with eerie silence.

“AHh OMG!” 

When Giana finally walks through the kitchen, she feels something warm touch her ankle. 

A familiar giggle bounces off the walls as Elysia’s head pops out a cupboard, “You scream like mommy!”

“Bedtime, Elysia” Giana huffs.

-

PER SE

Steve sits in his chair with a huff. You squint at the noticeable wrinkle in his shirt, the light perspiration over his hair line, and the redness over his knuckles. 

“What were you doing just now?” your eyebrow raises at the way he gulps down the rest of his cool drink. 

“Some asshole owes me money. Two birds one stone,” he answers.

“Steve,” you chastise.

“I promise this was not a factor in our date spot, the prick just so happened to be here.” Steve shrugs innocently. “I didn’t even hit him, just knocked him around a little.”

“C’mon don’t pout, baby” he leans over, running his thumb over the bottom of your lip. But to no avail.

“Maybe this will lift your mood,” he smiles, placing a small, red bag in front of you. 

You begin to remove the tissue paper, “What would lift my mood is if my husband wouldn’t-- oh my gosh!” you gasp.

Steve sits in his seat smugly, watching your mood lift. 

“How did you even get this?” you question Steve, running your palm over the smooth, black, leather purse. “This isn’t released for another year.”

“C’mon, baby, do you know who I am?” 

Steve doesn’t even attempt to hide the cockiness in his features and in the tone of his voice. Flourishing in the glowing smile on his other half’s face. 

You launch from your seat into Steve’s lap. Your hands thrown over his neck as place kiss after kiss to his scruffy cheek. “I love you, so much,” you kiss Steve again. 

“I love you,” Steve replies, an arm wrapped around your waist as his hand gropes your ass. “Let’s hurry home.”

-

AT HOME

You and Steve are welcomed to a quiet house, except for the low sound of the television in the living room. 

“Hey, G” you greet Giana, “Did everything go well?”

Giana, seated on the couch, looks up from her phone. “Everything was wonderful,” she cheers, standing up.

“I’m glad everything was okay, thank you so much for watching her for us,” you hug her before turning to Steve, “I’m gonna go check on Lis.”

As you walk past him, you brush your hand down his arm. Steve can’t help but stare at your retreating figure. When you're no longer there to keep him entranced, he turns to Giana with a smile on his face. 

“Thank you so much, G. Me and Y/n really needed a night out, I appreciate you and your parents for letting you watch her for a bit.”

“Of course, Mr. Rogers”

There was a beat of silence, “..Now be honest, she was a little demon wasn't she?” 

“The worst!” Giana groans, hands rubbing down her face. “But it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, She was just in a mischievous mood tonight. But she’s an angel, don't worry.”

Steve laughs at Giana’s response and story of the mis happenings of tonight. Steve wasn’t in this profession for nothing. The strained yet genuine smile in Giana’s face gave her away automatically. 

“For tonight, thank you again.” Steve holds a decent amount of money in his hand towards Giana. A decent amount, but way too much for a kid her age. 

“Oh no Mr Rogers. This a lot”

“It’s nothing. Your father would kill me if I let you come back with a measly $100,” Steve jokes. 

Giana grabs it a bit reluctantly, “Thank you so much,” she smiles.

“It’s nothing, I’ll walk you out.”

-

When Steve hits the top of the stairs, he watches you lean against the doorframe of Elysia's bedroom. He looms over you, cocooning his body into yours as his arms wrap your waist. 

Your hands lay over his, and you giggle when the scruff of his beard can be felt against the hinge of your jaw as he places light kisses there. A sigh of content falls from your lips.

“You have a great night tonight?” Steve asks, voice low. 

You angle your face until you’re looking at him, “The most perfect night.” you respond, placing an easy peck to his lips. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Steve brings a hand, his palm cups your face as his thumb sits right under your chin. 

-

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback <3

#steve rogers #chris evans #mafia steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x fem reader #steve rogers x you #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #dad steve rogers #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #chris evans one shot #chris evans fluff #steve rogers smut

[disasterofastory]

The Pretty Little Actress Of Rogers Masterlist

The Pretty Little Actress Of Rogers Masterlist Steve Rogers x Reader Mafia AU

Summary: You agree to open your relationship to save your marriage, but when Steve appears in your life, you are not sure anymore what you want.

A/N: About the '+' chapters: they are extra chapters. It gives enough room for me to add something to the story later. More like shorter parts and additions.

About the story: After the story of Bucky and his Bunny (The Maid Of Mr. Barnes Masterlist), we jump back in time to see the story of Steve and his Sugar.

Thank you for your feedbacks and notes.

Chapters

Part 1 - Open - Your husband is impatient, and you get flowers.

+ Rules - You have some rules if your husband really wants to do this.

Part 2 - Steve Rogers - You meet the man who sent you the flowers.

Part 3 - Call - You call Steve. This marriage is open for you too.

+ The pretty actress - You are in Steve’s mind and his friends know it.

Part 4 - First date - You go on a date with Steve.

Part 5 - Whiskey - Steve takes you to one of his nightclubs.

+ Dance - You have the courage to dance.

Part 6 - Plans - You spend your weekend with your husband and plan the next with Steve.

Part 7 - Weekend - You are with Steve while husband is away.

+ A cold morning - You wake up next to Steve.

+ Bucky - The horse

+ Anything you want - Steve wants to spoil you.

Part 8 - Friends - You meet Steve’s friends at the opening party of his new club.

+ Next step - You spend the night with Steve.

+ Endless night - Steve doesn’t want you to go home. /18+

+ Script - Steve helps you learn your lines. /18+

+ Night at the museum - Steve gives you whatever you want.

+ Winter - After your date with Steve abruptly ends, you wait for him at home.

Part 9 - Gala - Steve and your husband meet.

Part 10 - Change of mind - Your husband tries to mend things between you but maybe it’s too late.

+ What you want - Steve is sure, and you?

Part 11 - The right choice - You have to say goodbye to someone.

Part 12 - The right path - You made your decision, it’s time to walk on that path.

The End

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #mafia!steve rogers #mafia!steve x reader #mafia au #avengers masterlist #avengers imagine #marvel masterlist #marvel imagine

[biggirllifestyle]

The Red Wedding.

Summary: Weddings are times for Celebrations, but this wedding takes the cake.

Pairings: Mafia!Steve Rogers x OFC

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: Violence lots of violence, and Peggy Carter.

A/N: It's been a while and I'm super excited to post this. This is based on a scene from a movie I watched today that just made my jaw drop super different but has the same premise.

When one is young there is always that time when you picture the perfect wedding, the perfection in every detail from the large venue with the gorgeous view to the smallest ribbon that would be used. Everything was methodical. Yet here you stood blood splattering your beautiful pearl white dress, hair in disarray, mascara smudged and running, and a loaded gun in your hand.

  Guests were frantically running around trying to find some sense of what the hell had just happened. From across the room, you watched your husband face you taking a step forward and then another until he was only a few feet away, you raised the gun pointing it at him, but not once did he flinch at your action.

“Me chingastes Steve, por ultima ves me chingastes hijo de puta.”

Taking a deep breath, you pulled the trigger.

-         3 Hours Earlier       -

The ceremony had been beautiful, Steve had gone all out on expenses never once asking anything from your parents. This had brought much joy to your father as he acted like the cat that ate the canary, every time he showed a hint of smugness you couldn’t help but roll your eyes sharing some meaningful glances with Steve.

In a sense yes, your father was earning a lot with your marriage to Steve, by having his business be administered by the biggest mafia boss in Brooklyn and if his price was to let him have his only child that was a sacrifice, he was willing to make. Well, not much of a sacrifice since you and Steve had been together for quite some time joined to the hip since he was a sickly kid until he rose in ranks and his abrupt puberty where he grew three times his size and could plummet anybody who looked at you funny into the ground.

With how long you both had been together it was almost inevitable for your engagement to be announced, everybody knew and everybody important was invited. With Steve and you deciding to keep the ceremony private (much to the chagrin of your father), with your parents, Bucky Steve’s best friend and righthand man, and Sam Steve’s other best friend present everything went smoothly just like you had always pictured.

The ride over to the venue was filled with heated kisses and touches that made you lose your breath; you could feel his smug smile as he kissed your neck. Everything was going as planned your entrance was greeted with big cheers and applauses, at some point you and Steve were separated he was being taken by Sam and Bucky to join the other boys while you took the liberty of greeting your other guest trying to make time before the real festivities began.

Half an hour later, after removing yourself from a painful conversation with your Tia where she went on and on about her newly installed backyard grill, you were able to meet with Steve again who looked a little disheveled but otherwise unharmed. He was grinning a stupid smile marking his face as he pulled you close, giving you small kisses and finally bringing you into a big hug, burying his nose into your hair.

“You don’t know how happy you’ve made me by tying yourself to me indefinitely.”

You huffed out a laugh hitting his chest at his remark, “Menso, I married you because I love you don’t be calling our marriage me tying myself to you.”

You gave him a small smirk, “I mean I can still get rid of you at any time.”

Steve let out a deep growl pulling you flush against him; you give a small yelp at his roughness trying to look around and see if anybody noticed, noting that most people were avoiding looking or walking toward your area. Steve jostled you again forcing your attention back to him, you knew Steve like the back of your hand and at that moment, you knew that if it would have just been the two of you Steve wouldn’t have hesitated to throw you over this table and fuck you into oblivion.

“Baby you really do know how to get me going, I can’t wait until we get home so I can fuck you into every surface that I can get you on.”

Bucky, who was the only person who was brave enough to come near you cleared his throat, he motioned behind him where several people had congregated to talk. Steve’s face turned stormy pulling away from you fixing himself to a proper state, he gave Bucky a nod who turned back towards the group, Steve looked pissed, and this worried you because you knew Steve and he would never let his emotions show especially in such an open venue where most of his competitors were present.

Whatever this was it was serious.

You grabbed his hand giving him a brief squeeze to let him know that it was okay, he gave a soft huff giving you a brief kiss before heading over to Bucky and the other men. You didn’t want anybody to see you worried, raising a glass to the DJ a soft cumbia started that got many people to join the dance floor keeping many busy and others distracted.

You watched Steve and the men as they talked in hurried hushed tones, you could see the tension building as one of the men who you knew was Tony who was from the Manhattan district showed something to Steve that made him madder. The music drowned out most people and they left you alone, just as you were beginning to relax you hear the tell-tale sign of your ringtone you knew you should have kept it silent, but you were waiting on a particularly important phone call from your firm for a recent case.

You grabbed your phone ‘UNKOWN NUMBER’ displayed across the screen, it confused you, so you let it ring not bothering to pick it up. The ringing stopped but soon after it started again, you knew you couldn’t ignore it any longer if they were going to keep insisting.

“Hello?”

“Finally, I get ahold of you!” A deep feminine voice answered through the line, “Congratulations on the wedding! You’re a lucky girl today.”

“Who is this? What do you want?” You looked around the room trying to see if you could spot anybody with a phone.

“Calm down kid, I just wanted to give you a little information on the man you just married,” The lady on the line laughed and you couldn’t help the annoyance that brought on you.

“Look lady I don’t know who the fuck you are but you’re getting on my fucking nerves.”

“Oh, sweetie I was just trying to make conversation, I just wanted you to know what your husband was doing or who he was doing just a few days a few days ago or specifically last Thursday.”

That stopped you cold, you knew exactly what she was talking about. Last week Steve had gone out early in the morning saying that he had an important meeting with a buyer, and he stayed out late almost coming home until early the next morning. You remembered since you had stayed up to wait for him and to finish working on some case files before you had to head out on your honeymoon.

“He worked me out all night until early morning, it was an amazing goodbye gift he gave me before he tied himself to you.”

At this point you were shacking both in anger and in sorrow at what could be the truth, you looked to where Steve was still preoccupied with his friends at that moment he looked up and caught your eye his face melted into something lovingly and you couldn’t help the choked sobbed that worked its way out your throat. You heard the lady on the line laugh at your sob and you knew that she was a sadistic bitch who was enjoying your pain.

“Quien chingados eres? You fucking bitch if you have the balls to call me on my wedding day and tell me all of this you should also have the balls to tell me your fucking name.”

She laughed again loving the fact that she was able to get you to this state, “You should ask him who Peggy Carter is and you’ll know in an instant that I’m not lying to you.”

The line went dead after and all you could focus on was the dial tone, you were fuming not just at this Peggy lady but at Steve for making you a fool. At this point you weren’t in control of yourself everything seemed so loud and too quiet as you made your way to Steve and the other men, pushing past them not caring who they were until Steve was the only thing you could see.

“Who the fuck is Peggy Carter?” Steve’s eyes widened at the name and all the other men in the group began to murmur amongst each other, but your focus was only on Steve who seemed to have lost all color.

“Baby how do you know that name?” His answer was enough to set you off as you punched his chest slapping the phone onto his chest, your only goal was to get answers from him and hurt him as much as you were hurting. Bucky tried to grab your arm, but Steve shook his head no and that just made you madder.

“Te la cogiste verdad hijo de puta? You fucked her a week before our fucking wedding, how could you?”

Steve was holding onto your arms trying to stop you from hitting him but also from hurting yourself, he pulled you forward until you were squished against his chest but that just felt like you were suffocating so you pushed him away.

“Answer me you fucking coward, did you fuck her?”

“No baby I would never do that to you, you know how much I love you.”

“Don’t lie to me Rogers or I swear to god I’ll fucking kill you.”

Just as Steve was about to answer a few gunshots ranged out across the room, Steve pushed you down until he was covering around you, and people began to run around as glass shattered and screams went around the room. Steve pushed you towards Bucky telling him to get you out of there as more shots were fired Bucky handed Steve a gun as he began to pull you towards the exit.

“Bucky let me go,” You screeched as you fought against him, he ignored you keeping himself close as he walked you towards the exit. From your position you couldn’t see much, just people running from every exit that they could find. Just as you were reaching the door you spotted a brown-haired woman walking towards where Steve was, seeming to ignore the chaos around and strolling towards your husband as if there was no care in the world. Her lips were painted a deep red matching her dress and something in you just knew.

This fucking bitch was Peggy Carter.

“Bucky you have to go to Steve, you have to tell him that Peggy is here.”

Bucky seemed to have come to the same conclusion as he watched Peggy making her way to where Steve was fighting some goon oblivious to her presence.

“I’ll be fine just go to Steve, give me a gun,” He whipped his head towards a conflicted look until he reached into his inner pocket and removed a gun for you.

“You better not make me regret this,” Were his last words until he was sprinting towards Steve dodging men as much as he could. You turned to the exit running towards the kitchen where you knew you could lose someone or find someplace to hide. Just as you reached the doors to outs you were yanked back by a strong force, slamming you onto the floor stealing your breath away.

You knew you only had seconds to react, you shot up a few rounds hoping something would hit. A grunt, and then a thump as the man fell over. There was blood and a lot of it, most of it had missed you but there was still a rogue spray that hit you. You got up shakily, you knew how to shoot a gun, but never had you killed someone like this.

Your insides felt loose and firm and you couldn’t help but throw up everything from that day until you were dry heaving. You must have taken too long because as soon as you steadied yourself somebody was already grabbing you. You tried to struggle against your grabber but stopped as you felt the barrel of the gun being pressed against your head.

“Don’t try anything sweetheart, now you and I are gonna take a little trip back into the reception” he started shoving you forward, “Can’t have you leaving your own party early now, can we?”

You grunted as he pushed you hard enough that your foot gave out a little, it wasn’t extreme, but it did cause you to start limping much to the annoyance of your captor. He pushed you towards the doors leading to the reception, Steve was bound to a chair Peggy was on his lap Bucky and Sam were surrounded by men keeping them from doing anything without getting killed. The moment the doors had slammed open everybody turned to you, Steve’s eyes seemed to widen as he looked at all the blood and your limping state, he began to fight against his restraints jostling Peggy out of his lap.

The gun being pressed to your temple stops him from doing anything else. Peggy huffs motioning for the man holding you to bring you forward. You didn’t have your gun anymore; Steve was incapacitated, and Bucky and Sam had every gun on them you knew that this looked like you had lost. The moment that you were close Peggy drew you into a hug, you recoiled trying to get away from her but a gun to your back stopped you.

“After our heart-to-heart through the phone, this is how you’re going to repay me?” Peggy pouted at you, and this made it clear she was crazy.

“Yeah, well I just saw it as some crazy bitch trying to ruin my perfect day, how would you see it?” That must have been the wrong thing as Peggy’s face became enraged, she swung her hand at you a sting running from your cheek where she struck you.

“Get the fuck away from her Peggy or I swear,” Steve yelled at her fighting to get himself off the chair, Peggy ignored him tooting in disagreement.

“Baby if you don’t stop trying to get out of that chair, I’ll start hurting your little bitch.” Steve seemed to be having a fight with himself trying to find a way to get out of this and get you to safety. Peggy walked towards Steve leaning down to whisper something in his ear that made him mad but made no move to fight.

“Now baby, how about you tell your wife about the wonderful time we had, how you told me how much you loved me and how the only reason why we couldn’t be together was that you were getting much more from the deal.”

Bucky, who was still on the ground, whipped his head towards you ready to say something but was stopped as the man behind him pressed the barrel into the back of his head stopping him.

“Just let her know baby, tell her what we did, and I promise you I’ll let her go.” Steve seemed to contemplate before dropping his head in defeat.

“It’s true, we were together last Thursday,” Steve made a face as if he was in pain, almost as if the words he was spitting out hurt, “I was having second thoughts about getting married, I didn’t know if you were the right person for me.”

Steve’s words hit you hard, all the pain and rage that was inside you was brewing and at this point, you were unsure if you were about to scream or throw up.

“Peggy she was there, and I took my chance to figure it out if you were what I wanted.” He lamely finished, his face twisted into a grimace but all you could see was Peggy’s stupid grin and that just made you angry. You slammed your heel into your captor and threw your head back until it collided with his face, and he released you with a yelp. Bucky and Sam seemed to have taken advantage of the distraction as they flew back against their own captors wrestling them into the ground. Steve slammed himself back smashing the chair into pieces to free himself. Your captor tackled you down, slamming your head into the floor obscenities flying at you before Steve practically ripped him off from you.

Peggy began to rush away but you took the chance from everybody’s distraction to go after her, you were unsteady, but she did not get far as you tackled her. She began to throw punches at you, one of them catching you in your cheek, the other splitting your lip, but you weren’t far off as you also landed your own blows.

“You fucking Perra, you ruined my wedding and I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Peggy reached around her trying to find a way to get you off her, her hands grazing the floor until she latched onto a shard of champagne glass from the earlier altercation. She lashed up cutting your arm and making you retreat as she tried to keep slashing at you. She rushed over trying to stab you screaming her head off at you as she did.

“He was mine; he was always mine and you fucking took him away you fucking bitch. He loves me not you.” She cried as she slashed your arms. You pushed her away as she stumbled back and fell just as she was going to get up, she was stopped by Bucky who had incapacitated everybody else.

Steve walked towards Bucky looking down at a struggling Peggy, “Take her somewhere else, we’ll deal with her later.”

You walked away, your leg was starting to hurt and the cuts from the glass were stinging, this wasn’t your fight anymore and you were done. People were rushing around, reinforcements from someone else, and at this point, you really didn’t care, you knew you would have to call your parents and check on them, you knew they had gotten out but still.

You reached down to collect a bottle of champagne that was still intact and an abandoned gun. You knew you still had one thing to deal with and you could finally head home and relax, but this would just have to be a priority. You turned back to the scene; your husband was still directing people trying to clear out as much as he could.

You watched your husband as he pointed at things around, he turned towards you, taking in your running mascara blood-covered dress, and messy hair, and all he felt was deep love at how strong you were in all this. He walked towards you trying to get as close as he could stopping short as he saw the gun in your hand, you raised it aiming at him but that didn’t scare him, the only thoughts that came into his mind were how beautiful you looked and how lucky he was to have you.

“Me chingastes Steve, por ultima ves me chingastes hijo de puta.”

Steve didn’t move and felt the bullet graze his arm, but he didn’t care as the rage melted off you, and concern was all he saw. You rushed forward discarding the gun and bottle, you grabbed at his arm trying to see the damage you caused but instead met a firm chest as Steve held you close.

“Chingate Steve, dejame ver, let me see your arm you fucking asshole.” You pushed away from him as you removed his suit to look at his arm, he began to caress your face you ignored him as you ripped away at his shirt.

“This doesn’t change anything you know, I’m fucking pissed at you asshole,” You looked up at Steve who only showed love in his eyes, “You’re lucky I don’t file for an annulment.”

Steve felt the breath being squeezed out of him, just the idea of you not being with him scared him.

“Baby, I promise you with all that I have and to my last breath that I was never with her, I’ve only ever loved you and I promise you that everything she said was a lie.” Steve was outright begging at this point trying to make you believe him, and you knew Steve you’ve always known Steve.

“Of course, I know, don’t be a pendejo about this I know you, Steve, I did doubt you, but I know that disrespecting me and us like that is not in you.”

You looked away seeing Bucky pick up the gun you had used on Steve as he pocketed away, he caught your eye and nodded at you and Steve as if to ask if you were okay. You knew he wasn’t asking about your injuries, so you nodded at him, he inclined his head and turned to Sam slapping him in the back which made the other man yelp and punches him back.

“Steve yo te amo, and I know you, I’ve always known what type of man you are,” You pushed up, your foot complained against it, but you brushed your lips against his which made him melt at your touch, “I love you.”

Steve let the tension out, kissing you passionately as if he were trying to engrave your memory into his brain.

“I love you too.”

#steve rogers x oc #positivity sleepover #steve rogers x reader angst #steve x reader #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers x reader #plus size ofc #plus size character #plus size oc #steve rodgers imagine #captain america #james bucky barnes #mafia au

[buckyismybicycle]

"if you can take all of my faults, one day I'll repay the costs"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers Rating: Mature/Explicit Tags: Doctor Steve, Mafia Bucky, Beefy Bucky, Light Angst, minor character death (deserves it), Top Bucky Barnes, (some slight topping from the bottom Steve Rogers), Hurt Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Hostage Situations, Bucky Punches and Kills People because nobody touches what's HIS, violence and bloodshed but in a mostly sexy way (violent declarations of love) Summary: You know, just a classic: "how did you two meet?" ("I got shot" / "He came into my clinic and bled all over my floor.")

Belongs to these series: Hot Bucky Summer 2023 & SebStan Series

Written for @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer, Week 8: "How did you two meet?" and for @buckybarnesbingo "O3: Major Injuries"

And dedicated to the lovely @metalbvcky for her super not-secret love of Dr. Steve Rogers. Thank you to @mxaether for fixing most of this before I added a thousand more unbeta'd words.

>> READ ON AO3<<

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #stucky #stucky fanfiction #bucky barnes x steve rogers #bucky barnes AU #mafia boss bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine

[neonovember]

Just like Business

Steve rogers mafia!au

summary: with the fate of the underworld on your shoulders, your attempt to keep a low profile fails and instead, you make a deal with the king of Brooklyn himself.

warnings: violence, regular smugular mob talk, mentions of domestic violence

a/n: sorry it took so long for chapter 3 to come out, school has been up my ass lately and I lost half my draft. (I’ve also changed Diore’s name to Clementine because I'm playing twd)

The taste of stale wood catches on your tongue as you nervously chew on the end of your pencil, the Diner is slow today, and you've found yourself in the corner of the kitchen, tenuous forms spread out in front of you. The slowed trickle of patrons coming through the familiar jingle of the doors gave you enough time to fill those papers out before the seats do.

Knees to your chest, you ponder over what to write on the clearly dotted line named “Next Of Kin”. You watch as a man dribbles coffee down his white shirt, failing to catch the drops with a damp napkin as your mind remains a blank deserted canvas. Truth be told you didn’t have anyone you could call in an emergency, it was a bitter pill to swallow, even more so than the pencil between your teeth.

Clem was spending her allotted days off with her niece, mentioning how her erratic sister had dropped her off last night. You understood complicated families more than anything, it was what you lived and breathed for the better part of your adult life, but it meant the hours at work would drag on even further. Clementine was able to keep your mind off of everything, your escape, your husband, that man, that goddamn number. Your entire life was a scattered map of holes and ink spills, and it seems to follow you even on this side of Brooklyn, where eyes were always trained on your own shoes and you learned to keep to yourself.

Any other day you would have called in sick, without Clementine to help push the metaphorical hand to tick past your 9-hour shift. But you couldn’t bare the thought of remaining in that 3-foot room isolated and just waiting to be attacked. Your mental state was as fragile as ever, and you felt even the slightest scare would send you spiralling.

The target on your back grew bigger and bigger each day that went by with the threat of that man’s promise looming over your head. The crumpled napkin remained on your bedside table since that night, and you made no move to initiate the call. His patience was wearing thin, this you knew, but you didn’t have the guts, even now, to face the reality of what you had done.

Leaving the line blank you quickly fill the rest of the form, trying to tear your mind from thinking too hard at the prospect of having no one to rely on. All that was on your mind at the moment was the prospect of a dry winter, with a heater that worked and walls that weren't covered in mould. You hope the council would take your concerns seriously now that you had gained some stability, even as small as it was.

The jingle of the doors finally dragged you from your crouched position, collecting your papers you quickly shoved them under the counter before brushing away any creases on your apron.

The figure had seated themselves towards the end of the diner booths, away from any clear windows where they could be easily seen. Grabbing a menu you made your way past the many vacant booths before finally reaching their table.

It was a man, fairly built, with dark black hair moused from the light shower outside, he wore a deep maroon coat eerily similar to the man from earlier that week. He had deep grey eyes which would have been overshadowed by the curls of his hair falling in front of his eyes if they weren't so intense. His features were distinctly masculine, outlined by a sharp jaw that was littered with stubble, and his arms were outstretched across the booth's couches.

Transfixed by his features you had almost forgotten the menu between your fingers which was scarily close to slipping, he cleared his throat expectantly and you quickly placed the menu on the table.

“You got a staring problem or somthin?” The deep Brooklyn accent drew out as he enanuctaited his words, a smirk breaking through his stoic features but not quite reaching his eyes.

You swallowed thickly, looking down and attempting to avoid his grey orbs which seemed to remain at your face, he had a look like he was dissecting you, cutting you apart and looking into your soul.

“No-, No of course not, sorry. Uh, what would you like?” You choked out quickly, and you gripped your apron as he took notice of your apprehension. he could smell your fear, you could feel it.

He chuckles audibly, the sound sort of muffled behind it’s falsity. A relaxed expresiones seemed to ease the calculating look on his face just moments ago, as if he’s come to a conclusion.

“Your ma never taught you some manners?” He continues, this time however, his eyes are trained on the menu items, seeming to peruse through them thoroughly.

Your mother.

The thought of her and any expectant of motherly duties made you audibly laugh, causing the man to look up, eyebrows quirking at the chuckle leaving your mouth.

You cough quickly, attempting to hide your sudden outburst. It was just, there were a lot of words you could call that person, but a mother? That certainly wasn’t one of them.

You’d soon see hell freeze over before she’s ever act like a mother towards you, whilst your friends and classmates were taught how to braid their hair, or tie their shoes, or ride a bike, your mother, she, was out in the alleyways and prisms of her addiction.

You’d need a pick axe to get through the stone face she morphed into each time she walked through your childhood home. She wasn’t absent, always somewhere, she was just expression less. Like you’d drawn her with a broke crayon and coloured her outside the lines.

Shaking yourself from your past, the man’s eyes are fixed on you, confusion swirling through those grey orbs, before his lips lifted in a small smile.

Why did he look almost apologetic? You already had one strange man after you, did this god want to grant you with another?

“Coffee, black”. Said the man, folding the menu closed that was opened on desserts of the day.

You nodded, taking the menu from his grasp, before turning back towards the kitchen, the squeak of your trainers against the linemen floor.

Funny, he looked through the entire menu only to order a plain coffee, black at that. You’d hardly seen that order in a while, the iced latte-frappe-mocha obsession had taken over even the tiny diners like this one.

Another thing that’s seemed to change this week.

Making you way back to the kitchen, you quickly begin making his coffee. You weren’t particularly specialised at the art of making coffees, however his order seemed fairly straightforward.

Plus without Clem on today the diner was even more short staffed, and completing multiple jobs was expected.

Mind miles away, you almost spill the coffee grounds as you tamp them into the portafilter, attempting to replicate the steps you’ve seen Clementine do a thousand times.

Setting the espresso machine to brew, your able to shift your eyes towards the man in the corner, who’s now pulled out a silver phone and seemed to be in a heated conversation.

You knew that it was wrong to eavesdrop but god your brain would explode if you kept at this repeative mundanity of watching cars splash water violently against the diners windows.

You catch a couple words being exchanged, as the man roughly pushes his strands back into the low bun sitting low on his head.

“Steve, cmon, ya sure it’s her?,

“She don’t look like it that’s for sure”

“Robinson waiting on a package so I can’t stay long-, okay yeah, yeah I hear you, ya big head, don’t need to yell damn.” Mumbled the man exasperated.

He muffled his words into the cellphone as if he could tell you were eavesdropping and you quickly look away when you see him shift in his seat.

The espresso beeped as you pull the shot from under the machine, pouring it into a mug as you add 2 heaped teaspoons of sugar.

Stirring slowly you chance a glance from under hooded eyes, and expecting his broad shoulder and back towards you, instead his turned his shoulder, eyes staring directly toward you.

Taken back you shift your eyes back to the mug, fingers gripping the teaspoon tight as a attempt to pretend that he hasn’t unnerved

It seems to fail as the next time you look up his grinning, phone still pressed to his ear as he nods along with whatever they’re saying.

You question whether to bring it to him, the coffee, and just ask one of your other co workers, but you’ve already gone this far. Waitressing practically came with the packaged deal of sleazy men who couldn’t take a hint, it was depressing but you’ve gotten used to people disregarding your boundaries. You wouldn’t let some creepy yet incredibly attractive man scare you away from doing your job.

Appearing at the booth in almost an instant you place the ceramic mug infront of him. Murmuring his coffee, and not letting a second past before you attempt to escape, shoes squeaking at your hurry.

“Excuse me, Mrs” The man’s Brooklyn draw calls you however, the politeness falling from his red lips before he can help it. You freeze under the formality, fingernails digging into your palms.

Mrs? Mrs. You almost forgot that you were still a married women, it was something you kept hidden for a reason, the encrusted ring was hopefully rotting at the bottom of the hudsen.

And that was it, here, in Brooklyn, no one, no one knew you were with someone much less married, and yet this random man, who wasn’t quite a stranger knew. Hell he called you Mrs loud enough for the entire diner to hear.

To say you were shitting yourself was an understatement.

“Would you prefer ma’am, I hardly know these days” Chuckled the man unfazed by your trepidation, this was a sick game to him.

“How about you sit down and have a chat with me? Just 5 minutes of your time, all I’m asking” The man sing songs, acting as if he were pleading with you, however you noticed the demand laced under his tone. You understood a demand when you heard it.

Your back is still towards him, and your eyes shift to the diner door to the right, and, just as quickly the man reminds you of his loyalty.

“Look doll, I don’t wanna have to go to more extreme measures to find you again, so just sit down here with me before we both do something we regret” The man really pleads this time, he seems exhausted, like he really did look under every hole in New York.

You are are still fixated on the diner door, the paint chipping from its sides, and a dirty brown appearing at the foot of it from the rain coming through the sewers and onto the footpaths. You gulp down the crawling bile rising from your stomach before slowly turning around, each step causing a small breathe to escape from your chest.

You slide into the booth just as the man reaches for his cup, sipping it slowly as he eyes to intensely.

“Atta girl, now was that so hard?” He finally replies, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

Your hands, you don’t know what to do with them, they’ve begun to dig painfully into your palm and you quickly shove them under the table when they begin to shake.

The man watches them carefully, his brows furrowing in confusion as if he didn’t expect you to be so goddamn meek and weak.

God. You’re so fucking weak it’s pitiful

“Look, I’m not going to keep you long, alright? I personally don’t like dragging out a girl like this but orders are orders ya know?” The man rambles, not waiting for you to answer him before he continues.

His eyes shift back and forth, down the diner aisles and across the vacant seats, he leans in, and from a distance it looks as if you two are both lovers on a night out. Huddled against each other from the harsh downpour outside and warmed the the love in the air and the longing in your eyes. The soft glow of the ceiling above casting a eerie romantic feel similar to days before.

“He knows your avoiding him, and in all honesty, this is the longest his gone before going out himself and getting what he wants” The man replies, dark greys watching your slumped posture against the booth coaches.

You’d hoped he’d just given up, the hours going by as you waited for your doors to come slamming down but it never did. It was stupid, you knew this, you didn’t get lucky in this world, but a small part of you had hoped so hard that he just saw you for what you always were; ordinary. Mundane and colloquial, the blurry face in a crowd, the person you always forgot and the name you never quite remembered.

You chest cave in at the truth of the reality you were forced into, you didn’t even care at this point, as your exhausted body rested against the booth, fingers rubbing your tired eyelids.

“What does he even want with me? I don’t know who you are, but you look like your smart enough to know how utterly useless I would be to whatever plan hes drawn up”. You reply

“I don’t even know anything about..about..that world!” you gulp as he looks towards you expectantly. You don’t even know what to call it, the underworld? The mafia? Criminal organisations? Which one would least likely get you killed?

“He kept me out of pretty much all of it, okay? He never let me enter even parts of the house to keep me ignorant and obedient. Couldn’t let the wife know about the 17 year old boy I tossed into the sewers right? Isn’t that what you men do?” You reply heated, spitting the accusation in disgust.

Your words don’t faze the man, and it’s then down you consider what he must’ve already heard and seen a hundred times, this was normal to them, this was life to them, this was making a black coffee to them.

“His not gonna hurt you, if that’s what your scared o-“ The man says, and you cut him off quickly

“Oh trust me, getting hurt is the least of my worries, I’ve gotten a lot of practice” You laugh morbidly, as he looks at you strangely, his eyes peek at the healing bruises on your arm and you tough your sweater down self consciously.

“I don’t doubt it, Matthews is ruthless, and I’ve got to hand it to you, your a real fucking smart one for being able to escape him of all people. But let’s me realistic here, you and i both know what this world is like, sure you’ve made it out, but how long do you really thing you’ll be able to be ahead, to keep up with this on the run shit?” The man reasons, adding more sugar packets to his coffee, before stirring it slowly.

You remain silent as you take in his reasoning, he’s not wrong, soon or later you’d burn out and do something stupid and get caught. You were born in the suburbs for fucks sake, you weren’t some Russian spy.

“All I’m saying is that Matthews is pretty fucking powerful, the type of power where he can get your friends and boss here to offer you up to him on a silver plate. There’s no loyalty when you’re living pay check my pay check, or when you’ve got to put food on the table. The only loyalty then is one written in blood, or bank checks” The man says, winking at the last part.

“We can help, keep him off your scent for a while, until you can get out of here at least” the man says gesturing around the diner and the City itself.

That was the ultimate plan though wasn’t it? To get out of America? Maybe move to a tropical climate where your skin met the warm sun instead of bloody fists. Something was keeping you here, and you spent years trying to understand what.

“By protection you mean surveillance that goes over every single human boundary ever created” You grumbled hands now crossed against your chest.

The man nods honestly,

“More or less, at least then you’ll get some sleep” The man replies, pointing out the bags hanging under your eyes.

“Well how am I supposed to do that when I’ve got him watching me every single minute of the day” You snap, before your eyes widen in shock. You didn’t meant to get angry, least of all at the man who probably has a pistol between in his waistband.

You wait for the man to scream, to feel his rough fingers around your throat, or the bruising force of his fists. It never comes, instead he laughs, fucking laughs.

It’s authentic, the way the baritone sounds leaves his chest ceremoniously, a hand gripping his chest and his curls fall in front of his face at his movements.

It’s beautiful and from the moment it leaves his mouth you love it. But he laughs, the most innocent thing in the entire world and you flinch. You fucking flinch.

You already know he notices it as he stops his chuckles, hands coming to press against his brows, and running down his scalp to brush his strands back.

“He’s coming, later on, to pick you up and take you back to your apartment, don’t fight me on it or else it’s my ass on the line” The man finalises, before reaching out with an expectant hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you..?” He says expectantly

You mumble your name tiredly and you grip his hand, shaking it.

“Bucky” The man’s nods, before getting up from the booth.

“Your got to be something to have Steve acting like this, and for your sake, youd better hope it’s fucking spectacular” The man says, before shelving over a couple dollar bills.

“Keep the change” The man calls before exiting through the diner doors, engulfed by the darkness cloud of fog and rain, the cool city air escaping into the warm diner behind him.

You look down at the coffee mug sitting like warm across from you, still filled to the brim and left un drunken, the only indication of his presence.

You sigh as you get up from your seated the position, the booth warm from your time spent talking. You look towards the clock, signalling you’ve spent well over 30 minutes with the man, and you turn to expect your manager tumbling down the isles to find you and demand answers to your absence.

But instead, her head is down, the deep auburn braids peeking from under the counter. Weird, she’s never not taken up the chance to berate your very presence, and instead she’a jotting down inventory records.

You don’t want to believe it but you know it’s connected to the man that was just here moments ago, or more specifically the man from earlier this week.

Collecting the bills left on the table, you place them into the cash register, before going to clear away his plates. This was going to be a long night.

You try not to notice the headlights shining through the blinds of the diner windows, or even the roar of an engine pulling up onto the front of the restaurant as you jot down the last of the young man’s order.

You were just about to close when a group of drunken but good natured college boys walked, or more like stumbled in.

You weren’t mad in any way, at least it gave your mind something to occupy itself with instead of conversation between you and Bucky from earlier.

Yelling the orders at Daniel, his brown hair bobbing to his stereo, your met with his thumbs up popping out of the bustling kitchen. You giggle to yourself at his antics, if you had to rely on one thing of normalcy in your life it was Daniel.

The familiar jingle of the diner door has you bristling, the note of between your hands crinkle as your hands grip them anxiously. You don’t know why your scared, it isn’t like you hadn’t been warned.

The man loud steps seem to purposeful against the floor of the crumbling diner, he’s incredibly out of place against the old fashioned terriselss and red and white booths. Even the drunken crows notices him, eyes surveying his expensive coat and shiny boots, before quickly looking away as the catch glimpses of his rings and blond tussles.

You pretend to occupy yourself with refilling straw and napkin dispensers, wiping down the tables that were already shining and keeping your head and most importantly your eyes, away from the tall brooding man.

You catch the front of his dress shoes pointed towards your crouched frame over the diner table. He clears his throat loudly when he notices you make no move to acknowledge his present.

“You’re a tough girl to catch aren’t you?” Is the first thing the man says in that deep gruff voice of his. His words seem sweetened like he’s said them behind a smile.

“No, not at all, I’m just..busy” You reply, leaning over further to wipe the cloth against the sides of the booth.

Steve hums, hands stuffed into his suit pants as he watches you carefully

“You sure? From where I’m at it seems like you’re..avoiding me” Steve says

“Well it’s kind of hard to get the courage to phone up a likley criminal mastermind that probably has connections to my husband and who would undoubtedly deliver me to him if given the right number.” You reply hastily.

Steve moves quickly to catch your hands, stopping your movements as he turns you towards his towering figure looming over you.

“I wouldn’t do that, I wouldn’t ever hurt you, you have to trust me” Steve says, a strange look you can’t place takes over his features, the frost behind his blues melt a little and his jaw relaxes before it leaves just as quickly. A hardened expression resting on his face again, and Steve drops your hands, where they rest folded at your stomach.

“How can I?, I’m sorry but I don’t even know you, and if I let another man take me, I’ll, I won’t ever forgive myself” You bristle.

Steve looks far off, blue orbs darkening at your candor as he watches the lights of cars flash against the frosted windows.

“Just let me help you, I’m sure Bucky told you why I’m here, and I’ve gone to lengths I can’t even mention to even speak to you” Steve says

“Why? I’m not special, I just don’t understand why someone like you would do with the likes of me” You reply exasperated, flinching as a David calls the order out.

“I have my reasons, reasons I can’t say right now but can only be explained if you let me take you home” Steve murmurs, you noticed a concerned look take over his features for a second, before the seriousness of this “deal” remains.

“And only if I accept your help” You say, you knew this world through and through, everything had a “but” and a catch. This wouldn’t be any different, would it?

Steve nods honestly, and you turn to throw the dirty wash cloth into the basin behind the counter.

“ I ain’t got long doll, let’s get going” Steve replies impatiently, you understood from your conversation with Bucky earlier that Steve was a man that always got what he wanted. There was little room for negotiation with the blond but you would be damned to make Daniel walk the plate he’d just slaved over to the crowd of huddled 21 year olds.

“Let me finish this order will you? If I’m getting into an unmarked vehicle to lead to my possible death, atleast let me get some good tips” You reply, and for the first time, Steve looks anywhere but you, noticing the huddle of hungry and slightly sober boys.

“Okay, okay” Steve replies acting defeated, as he sits on a barstool across from the counter. Eyes watching your mundane movements of service and food handling, and yet no saying a single word.

You juggle multiple plates, brushing off Steve’s attempts to help and successfully deliver them to the patrons, who gleefully thank you loudly. Slurring praises of Jesus, and Hallelujah, as they shovel waffles and fried chicken into their mouths.

Drunk college boys, either your best or worst nightmare.

Steve doesn’t let you clear their plates as he stands expectantly, you catch his eyes blaring into your manager from the corner of your peripheral. His face hardens into something like stone, and it’s as if his exchanged something without saying a word.

Your manager nods, walking back into the office, your bag is waiting for you on the counter and you reach for it before Steve is grabbing it instead. A hand coming up to silence your protests.

You follow his foot steps without a word, eyes looking back at your manager who’s staring right at you, a grim look on a face that screams pity. Like watching a lamb being carried to the slaughter, or more like willingly walking in.

You don’t know what Steve has told her, or not told her, but it seems he has more power than you first realised, your boss never let you off early, sure she’s let you take a day off but leaving early? Never. You’d had to be bent of and heaving before she’s pay you for half the shift.

It scares you, you don’t quite know what your walking into following this man, the the truth of its danger follows you like a shadow, every step pressed into the floor by blood and crime is a step you fall into.

You’re staining yourself with whatever it is he is knee deep in, even if you don’t want to believe it.

Steve opens the diner doors gently, letting you pass his chest, as he flips the open side the opposite side. A sleek black car comes into view on the sidewalk, it’s branded with a logo you don’t recognise but you understand it’s expensive, the kind of car where they give you shampgane when you buy it.

You don’t know why but you don’t see Steve as a man who would willingly drink champagne, the image of him holding a flute has you fighting back giggles, no, he was most defiantly the time to like bourbon or some other old fashioned liquor.

Opening the passenger door, you take a moment to look back at the diner, the low warm lights giving it a sense of home that you never found at your apartment. The crowd of boys are now singing unabashedly, stale and oily fries left on messy plates.

You hated it but it was the best thing that ever happened to you..since, well, since forever. It was gruelling and tough and not half the amount of work it took but it was yours wasn’t it? It was something you earned and kept only for you, that pay check was written in your name, not your mothers, not your husbands, yours.

Atleast you got a taste of what freedom would be like, a small glimmer of what you could’ve been if happened, hadn’t.

The inside of Steve’s car is even more opulent than its exterior, blue lighting outlining the inside of the car, and tinted windows hiding you from view.

“As much as you think you useless and naive to the word, the truth is, you're the closest thing to Richedson in his life, not his right-hand man, not his best friend, not me, you. Hell, practically half the underworld didn't even know he was married for the better part of 2 years”. Steve murmurs, one hand on the steering wheel whilst the other lay rested on his thigh.

“He was embarrassed by me” You shrugged, it was the truth, even Steve knew it.

“No, I don't think so, I think he was scared that you would get hurt” Steve replies, eyes remaining on the gravel road as he followed the route to your apartment like the back of his head. It should scare you, but it doesn't, and that, that scares you.

“He couldn't care less of me, much less try and protect me from the world he married me into. Besides, whatever cruelty he tried to shield me from, he already exposed me to it himself” You reply hastily, turning your body so that you faced the door, eyes boring into the concrete sky scrapes flashing mirages against the tinted windows.

As if sensing your apprehension, Steves recognises to drop it and instead tries to tell you the reasons from earlier.

“The throne your husband sits on grants him a lot of power, enough to have half of New York at their knees. And with him as unstable as he is, it would lead to more people getting hurt, and most importantly this realm, this life, ripped open for the world to see” Steve says

“He's always been unstable, you of all people should know that” You reply, scoffing. The cracks in your husband's mind enable him to get to where he was today, it enabled him to look past the shackles of morality that kept so many from reaching their full potential as he would say.

“Not like this, no not the way he's behaving now, there's traditions and sacrifices you have to make to survive in this life, that I understand, but the cracks that have always been in him are starting to show, they're starting to crumble the things me and so man other people have built. He's going off the rails, and this time I don't think even you can reel him in” Steve reasons, turning into your apartment car pack with the palm of his hand in one swift turn.

You bristle as that, your husband has always been off, you'd noticed it the first time and you'd accepted it the last, but at least he was always predictable with the lengths he would go to for more power, more authority, more money.

“You're saying the killings could get worse? The blood? The death? You're saying he could get worse?” You say exasperated, your eyebrows furrow as you wait for Steve to reply. You didn't think he could get worse.

Running a hand down his face, Steve roughly pulls his strands back behind his ears before choosing his words carefully.

“I can't say much that won't get you killed, but he's spiralling, and he’s going to take us all down with him unless we do something unless you do something”. Steve says, pushing the hand break up as he turns to you.

You shut your eyes, squeezing them as you slump against the leather seats. Your mind wrestled as it took in all of this, even now, you would never escape your husband? Wouldn't you? Did the fate of the underworld really rest on your shoulders? You want to say no, to jump out of the car and run back to the safety of your apartment but you can't stop the flashes of the 17-year-old boy whose screams still haunted you all these years later. He would've been 21 now, likely to have walked into your diner with those boys from earlier, and most importantly alive, not buried in a shallow grave.

“Okay,” You mutter quietly, so quietly that if Steve didn't have those golden ears of his he would've missed it.

“Okay? You sure?” Steves asks again to make sure he's heard you correctly.

“Okay. Okay ill tell you what I know in exchange for protection. This is what it is right? Purely transactional?” You reply, expectantly.

Steve nods following your words, bringing his palm up to shake your own. It's surprisingly soft, his fingers, like the death and cruelty of his actions, haven't yet spoiled them.

“Just like a business” Steve mutters sparing a glance at you, the same strange expression from before, you both hold onto the grasp longer than a handshake should be. And you find yourself dropping it suddenly, before rubbing your hands against your thigh.

You reach behind the seats, grab your bag and reach for the car door, before Steve’s rough warning stops you, the deep don’t bounce off the car roof and jostles you in your sleep. You know he cants help it, but you catch glimpses of the mafia king just in that one word. You understand what he's able to to, what he's done to get here and most importantly what he’d do if you don't agree.

Steve walks around the car, before opening the door for you, you look down self-consciously. 

“You know you don't have to do all that, open doors and stuff,” You say, following his steps to your apartment door.

You had never been the recipient of chivalry. You didn't get to experience the soft, innocent love everyone else did in high school, skipping straight into marriage with a mafia boss. It was pathetic now that you think about it, but you'd never been romanced, much less felt what love could be.

“I know,” Steve says, hands shoved into his pockets, but you don't let him finish speaking before you continue your heated ramble.

“I mean it, I'm not some prissy princess who needs to have her hand held every minute,” You say, searching for your keys at the bottom of your bag, before struggling to open your door.

The lock always seemed to jam wherever you tried to enter your apartment, to the point where you had to shoulder your way into your hallway to get in.

Steve reaches for the keys between your fingers, pushing it into the lock and opening the door with ease. His fingers didn't even seem to strain as slammed the door against your wall.

Looking up through hooded eyes, you catch his blues darken as he looks down, your face chest centimetres away from his chest, 

“I know, trust me doll, I know” He whispers to you, and you have to pull your eyes away before moving past him, plopping your belongings onto your velvet couch.

Steve leans against the door frame, his tall length seems almost comical compared to the height of your living space, you were sure he'd have to duck to even enter.

You don't want him to enter, do you?

“Just get some sleep, ill swing by later to iron out the formalities” Steve replies, watching you carefully.

Stepping out of your high heels, you snort, calling loudly with your back to him

“Just like business!” You say with your back to him, untying your apron covered in oil and spills.

Steve smiles, amusement lighting up his features as he nods, leaning against the door

“Just like business” He mutters, before shutting the door, and making his way down the crumbling concrete steps.

He steps into the sleek black vehicle that looks out of place against the beat-up Toyota Camry that’s never left, and the busted bike with stolen tires.

You don't notice, but Steve only pulls out when he's sure you've done exactly what he's said, your figure behind pulled curtains scurrying around your room, causing a small smile to pull at his lips.

And he doesn't notice, or at least you think he doesn't, as you peer through yellow curtains, watching his car recede into the distance, the winter moon was now high in the sky, casting a light for his route as the engine of his car roared against the asphalt roads.

This was it, you'd just made a deal with the devil, and you were already elbows deep. You wonder which one would've killed you faster? Being on the run, or being tied up in his twisted games, falling into the depth of Steve Rogers before it swallowed you whole.

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