Sin- Steve Rogers AU Chapter Four
Biker!Steve Rogers x Reader
Warnings: Explicit language, set in a universe where Pietro isn’t Wanda’s twin, but her older brother!!!
Disclaimers: I don’t own any MCU plots/characters mentioned.
Word Count: 6, 146 Words
Summary: In this chapter, Y/n comes to find out that Steve is not the kind of man used to being said ‘no’ to and that Pietro isn’t who she thought he was.
Read Chapter Three Here!!
You feel as if your feet are dragging on the floor, heavier than weights, as you look cautiously around the corridor which you’re being guided through by the big warm calloused hand planted firmly on your waist.
That hand is a silent warning, it’s heat and the coldness of the many rings that adorn it, reassuring you that this is all in fact real and happening.
Pietro is, in fact, a part of some outlaw biker gang and you are alone with who you can only assume is their leader or “president” as they had called him before.
You still couldn’t understand how you'd found yourself in this predicament.
What had happened was that after Biker King demanded Pietro explain, the scary brunette (who for some odd reason wore thick leather gloves and a long-sleeve even though you were pretty sure it was about a hundred degrees out) had stepped in and commented that the entire scene was drawing quite a bit of attention from the other people aorund.
He wasn’t wrong, and you suddenly grew nervous under the dozens of pairs of eyes spectating the whole thing.
Seemingly realizing this himself, the blue-eyed biker had commanded Pietro and Wanda be taken some room else to talk whilst he “took care of you” like he was some kind of king.
I mean, he might as well have been. The power he wielded over these people was incredible to witness, and no one hesitated to listen to whatever he demanded like it was their only duty. You were sure that is why he spoke like he knew no one would dare disobey; because they wouldn’t.
Obviously, Wanda and you had made it a point to protest. Neither of you really felt like letting you leave alone with a strange man to God-know’s-where.
If you thought about it, this was all bad for you and Wanda. I mean you had practically snuck into this VIP biker meeting thing and though you had no idea what rules any of them lived by, you were sure there was punishment for this.
Additionally, these men were complete and utter strangers to you. Yeah, you had seen Biker King at that parking lot before and had thoroughly admired his dangerous aura and rugged grace, had maybe even fallen for it, but that was completely different to being face-to-face with it, much less alone with him.
Even Pietro, who you were once the closest to, was seeming more and more like a stranger the more time you spent near him.
This fact was only reinforced when Pietro himself didn’t seem worried at all about the fact that you would be separated. In fact, he was a little too eager to escape the impending conversation you had awaiting him as he pulled Wanda aside, spewing out a few sentences in Russian you couldn’t make out from where you stood, shooting you lasting glances as he did.
Your heart squeezed each time more painfully than the last when he did and you could do nothing but look down at your shoes or hands. The bruise already blooming on his face where you hit him offered you a little bit of comfort though.
His gaze was abundant with emotions, each more complicated than the next as it flashed across his warm blue eyes. Those eyes had been a comfort to you once, had filled you with the warmest happiness and with the tenderest feeling like you were home and now...well now you didn’t know what it made you feel.
Now, all you could make out amidst all the brain chatter was the painful clenching of your chest and the dull ache of your knuckles, which you had still been cradling tightly to your heaving chest.
Puffs of forced breaths left your lips and you fought back the onslaught of tears threatening to push through the surface as they neared, Wanda looking a bit more defeated and Pietro looking awfully determined.
“We’ll wait for you in the office, Steve.” His gaze had flickered to you and he softened. For a split second, he looked like he wanted to say something, but Steve was speaking before he could.
“Go, before I change my damn mind and interrogate you all on my own, pretty boy.” His growl had made you jump as you watched Pietro and Wanda retreat.
When Wanda cast you a worried look over her shoulder, you had forced yourself to smile reassuringly.
“Steve”? You can’t resist the urge to look up at him and frown. “Steve”? Really? It was a simple and strong name, that was for sure...you just didn’t really know if it fits him.
“Buck. Sam,” ‘Steve’ called out sharply.
The scary brunette and handsome dark-skinned men walked over instantly.
“Make sure they get to my office and wait there for me till I’m done.” He nodded as the scary brunette (”Bucky” apparently) who runs off almost as soon as the words leave his lips before he turned to the handsome and not-as-intimidating guy. “Sam, get some of the guys and get everyone out. Party’s over.”
As they moved, you couldn’t help but think; it didn’t matter if Pietro’s was worried or not because he just let you go with a strange man, just like that and that was enough of a tell that your friendship of years and your love for eachother had gone to shit.
He was more desperate to escape having to explain than he was worried for your safety.
So here you were now, forcing yourself to go along with Steve.
The danger of the situation was very much impending and very much clear to you now.
Every warning bell that your parents had instilled in you since you were a toddler was blaring red and loudly. This was exactly the kind of situation you shouldn’t be in.
“W-what’re we doing here?” You breathe gently, pursing your lips tightly to hold back from letting out any pathetic sounds like whimpers that would give your fear away as you stopped before a door.
You regret asking as soon as the words leave your subtly trembling lips.
Steve pauses right before the large mahogany wooden door and stares down at you intently. Fear and something like excitement shoot through you like a rocket at the suddenness of his attention on you and you swallow hard, forcing yourself to stare right back.
His lips curl at your little act of defiance just slightly and he bites his lip pensively before answering- as if he’s debating whether he should tell you or not.
You find your eyes instantly drawn to the act and your lips part as you wonder what it would feel like to have that lip caught between your-
“This is my bedroom, doll,” he rasps roughly, eyes darkening when you jolt slightly away from him, startled.
Your blood runs cold. “Y-your-“
“Yes. But don’t worry I’m not going to try anything,” he quickly reassures before husking; “not unless you want me to.”
You gape are him, cheeks bright freakin’ red and he chuckles sexily in response. “I’m just joking,” he whispers.
Then he opens the door. “Go on.”
You gaze at him hesitantly and he heaves a heavy, slightly exasperated, breath before placing a hand on your back again. You’re about to part your lips at his sudden touch but before you can, he’s pushing you gently into the room.
“Ack!” Your legs are already weak from your nervousness but when he gives you that little shove they completely buckle until you’re tumbling forward.
In what seems like light speed though, strong arms are gripping you from the side before you can fall, holding you up.
“Careful,” he husks when your hands come to rest naturally on his strong biceps for support and your cheeks instantly redden when you gaze up at him.
He’s close again and in this distance, you can see his perfect features clearly once more. His rugged handsomeness hooks painfully in your gut, tightening around it like a hot iron fist.
It filled you with a sense of urgency like you needed to get away from him before you did something really really stupid. Like, kiss him, a damn outlaw...
“Sorry,” you whisper, forcing your gaze to remain on his muscular chest and not on his lips. You wince to yourself. “I’m a bit of a clutz.”
You nearly jump out of your skin when you feel it; warm calloused fingers and cold rings pressing into the skin of the underside of your jaw. He slowly raises your chin so you are forced to look him in the eye.
Your heart was fluttering like crazy as he gently rubbed his thumb over your chin, eyes trailing over your face in close inspection. No.
Not just inspection. He was trying to memorize.
Jesus. The intensity of his eyes alone was enough to make your heart go haywire, maybe because you’d never been exposed to this kind of situation or this kind of man and you’re unable to do much but gape at him.
“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?” He whispers so suddenly, so hotly, you almost gasp.
Beautiful...you had been called that before but it was never with such conviction. Never this brazenly and absolutely never this intensely.
“I- thank you?” Is you can manage to choke out but God, you can’t even hear yourself over the loud and aggressive beating of your heart in your ears.
He shakes his head and even though his face remains as controlled as ever, his eyes gave way to an emotion you couldn’t quite comprehend. Was he...angry?...
“No, don’t doubt it. Never fucking doubt it,” he rasped with full seriousness, fingers only tightening on your chin with his conviction. “You’re the type of fucking woman that could make a complete idiot out of the smartest man in the room. The type of beauty empires collapse over.” Full-blown sincerity sparks in those eyes and you try not to fall to your knees right then and there.
This man had no reservations whatsoever. Did he just say whatever was on his mind whenever he wanted to? No accountability for how that may affect the people around him?
You breathe in deeply and instantly regret it when instead of fresh air, you take in a gulp of his delicious scent of fresh laundry and leather that just messes up all your thoughts.
You have never been talked to like this...so directly to, so honestly...it was jarring and honestly, a little off-putting.
“And you expect me to fall for that line?” You can’t help your sass anymore, not when put under such stress, and you almost instantly feel horror seep into you at your own words, soaked up by the fire in your cheeks and nape of your neck.
But the reaction you get is nothing like what you expected.
What you get isn’t an insulted frown or any kind of angry outburst, what you get is a few blinks of confusion or shock or both, before his head is thrown back in laughter, bright and clean.
And that damn laugh knocks the very air from your lungs. You don’t think you’ve ever heard something more beautiful in your life than that laugh or seen something more beautiful than him laughing. It was hard not to want to worship him in that moment and that sound.
Maybe that laugh was the reason everyone listened to him, it was that alluring. Your heart practically explodes knowing you were the cause for it and warmth floods you.
When he looks at you again, his eyes are shimmering with amusement. “You and I both know that’s not a line, Angel.”
His plump lips tilt in bemusement at that quick retort as he finally takes a step away from you, his long finger pointing to the large bed perched on the opposite wall.
You release a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding once his warmth is far away and decide right then and there that this man was not good for your heart’s health.
“Do I even need one? I could have you in that bed in seconds,” he growls, gaze penetrating you.
Your eyes widen as wide as saucers, pulling another laugh from him. But you’re not laughing. Not when hot molten lava is pooling in your lower belly at the raspiness of his words, forcing you to squeeze your thighs together. Your whole body flushes when you feel yourself throb to life.
You can’t help but breathe out forcibly, still too nervous to do anything else but stiffly stand in the same spot and he seems to take note.
“Like I said, angel, I’m not going to do anything to you unless you ask for it, so just relax okay?”
Your eyes snap to him as he walks away from you. “Unless I ask for it?”
He casually shoves a hand into his jean pocket, lifting a shoulder in a half-shrug as a wicked little smile toys at his lips.
“Well if a pretty little thing like you asked for it, trust me- I wouldn’t hesitate a second before I had you spread out on that bed, ready for the taking.”
You narrow your eyes when you realize, hidden away in his watchful amused gaze, that he’s teasing you, gauging for a reaction to his too-forward words, and instantly force your jaw to snap shut.
Though you can tell it’s to mess with you, you wouldn’t bat an eye if it turns out this is always how he regularly speaks. Not to mention...those eyes are anything if not abundantly sexual. Even if he wasn’t joking, anyone would mistake the look he was giving for true hunger...
Irritation prickles at your insides and you can’t help but hiss back. “Well, thankfully you won’t have to worry because I won’t be asking you for anything anytime soon.”
He doesn’t say anything back, just smirks at that, the butthole.
The tension between you two is slightly eased though, and you take that moment to look around the room a bit nervously.
For a man’s room, it was actually really neat (save for a few items of clothes strewn about the floor) which left you impressed. A queen-sized bed smack in the middle behind you, a tv perched on the wall, and a small closet beside it. You eye the nightstand and mini-fridge beside the bed with interest.
It didn’t look very lived-in though. Nothing is worn or used extensively, and more than that, nothing personal. No pictures, little trinkets, nothing.
“This is our temporary headquarters,” he explains from behind you as if reading your thoughts. “I’m barely here, but I should have kit somewhere ‘round here.”
“A kit?” You ask, frowning as you whirl around to face him. He’s looking through a few stuff in his closet and with him facing away, you take the chance to inspect his broad form from behind and nearly groan out loud.
God, he had a fantastic as-
He turns to you suddenly, holding up a first aid kit in his hand. “Yeah, the first aid kit.”
He motions to your hand, which you were still clutching to your chest, cooly. “Your hand dollface, why’d you think I brought you here? Now sit on the bed.”
You swallow tightly, but follow his orders with no further protest, unceremoniously plopping yourself on the surprisingly soft, linen-covered bed.
He nods firmly and begins casually stripping off his leather jacket.
Your mouth dries like the Sahara desert when he exposes his muscular tatted arms, veins wrapping around them like vines up a tree, and almost bringing the intricate art on his skin to life. His shirt rides up in the slightest revealing a deep plunging v-line and a small neat cursive tattoo over his slim hip.
‘Oh God, forgive me for I have sinned,’ you close your eyes and beg for forgiveness at the thoughts flooding you right now.
This was dangerous.
His smooth pale skin shifts over bulging muscles as he carelessly throws his jacket beside you on the bed and you catch a good long whiff of his intoxicating scent. It has your stomach clenching hard, but you force yourself to remain alert as he kneels before you.
His hypnotizing gaze pierces straight through you as he bends his long broad body so that his strong t-shirt clad chest is brushing lightly against your bare legs, sending shocks of pleasure through you as his warmth seeps into your own skin.
Still looking at you in the eye, he places the kit besides your thigh and pries it open.
“Let me see your hand.”
You reluctantly hold out your hand to him, but can’t help the tilt of your head as it slips into his.
“What?” He asks without looking up.
You shake your head, allowing yourself to be honest with this strange man who you’d probably never have to see again just this once.
“Nothing...it’s just,” you suck in a breath which makes him stop tenderly inspecting your hand to look at you properly.
You can’t help but laugh softly as you speak quietly. “You’re a bit forceful aren’t you?”
He shrugs at that, turning back to his task. “Can’t afford to be gentle living this life, doll.”
“Why do you call me, doll?” You blurt.
That makes him smirk as he reaches over to the kit and pulls out cotton and rubbing alcohol, pouring some onto the cotton ball.
He swiftly turns your palm over on his and flexes your fingers, nodding to himself. “Well it’s not broken, so that’s good. I think you just cut up your knuckles a bit.”
He hums and begins carefully cleaning your wounds. “You have good technique. That right hook was fucking amazing,” he adds, looking up momentarily. “Who taught you?”
You press your lips together. “You ignored my question.”
“And you ignored mine,” he retorts smartly.
You heave a heavy sigh, trying not to lose your cool as you speak. “My grandpa,” you respond as curtly as possible. No sense in telling someone you’ll never see again useless details about your life. “Now you.”
He cleans the cuts on your knuckles expertly, sometimes rubbing his finger over your palm in tiny circles to get you to unclench them. The small action had butterflies erupting in your stomach though.
“I call you doll because you look like one,” he says as if it’s obvious, reaching beside your thigh and into the kit for something else.
You have nothing to say to that so you just stay silent as he applies what seems to be an antibiotic ointment on your wounds.
When he’s done, he discards all the used items, puts everything else away, and gets up. All the while, you just watch him closely.
What you had felt that day in that parking lot...you had never imagined you’d be this close to him again. Especially not in a situation like this and yet, here you were. Maybe it was destiny...no.
You shake your head to rid yourself of your ridiculous thought. This man, he was exactly what you were taught to stay away from. He went against all the rules and regulations of your peaceful quaint life.
So why were you so disappointed that you’d never see him again?
Your eyes snap to his as his deep voice calls out, pulling you from your thoughts.
“Let’s go,” he says as he holds the door open for you. “Pietro has a lot of explaining to do.”
Yes, he does.
As soon as you walk into the office-type room, Wanda is bolting from her chair and flinging herself into your arms.
You hug her tightly. “Wanda...”
She leans back, looking at you in the eyes with glossy ones. “We found him...” she laughs through her tears and you can’t help but smile weakly.
“Yeah, we did...” you mutter, looking at him over Wanda’s shoulder when she pulls you into another hug.
Pietro seated on one of the chairs in front of the desk and beside him are Bucky, Sam, and another red-headed woman you’d never seen.
She eyes you with piercing green eyes and it is then when you take notice of how beautiful she is.
Her hair is a few shades more intense than Wanda’s and despite her angelic looks, a small nose, big round sexy eye, and luscious lips, her stance exudes power and confidence.
You immediately feel intimidated by her so you quickly look away.
“Good,” Steve speaks as he rounds the desk to the other side where he throws his jacket over the chair. “Everyone’s here.”
Leaning against the huge mahogany desk, one booted leg crossed over the other, he has his hard eyes set on Pietro.
Pietro swallows. “Okay, pretty boy, time to come clean. What the hell is going on here?”
Pietro sighs like he’s resigned and hangs his head in shame, remaining silent and tense.
Steve slams his hand down on the desk forcefully, making everyone jump. Pietro’s eyes fly to him.
“Oh I’m sorry,” he mocks coldly. “I meant now.”
Pietro holds his gaze for only a little while longer before sighing and opening his mouth to speak. “She’s Wanda, my sister.” He points meekly to Wanda, who’s practically clinging to your arm.
“A sister?!” Sam screeches, eyes flying to Wanda in shock before his head whips back around to Pietro. “A fucking sister pretty boy? And you didn’t tell us?!”
You can tell from the looks on everyone’s faces, that they’re not as angry as they are offended or hurt.
Pietro sighs again. “I didn’t tell you guys because-“
“It doesn’t fucking matter why you didn’t tell us, you dipshit,” this time it’s Bucky who’s speaking in a monotone voice, his hard stare set on Pietro as he takes a step forward toward him. “Bottom line is, this is a brotherhood and we trust eachother no matter what. That’s the life you signed up for, but you seem to have forgotten.”
Wanda frowns instantly, stepping forward to defend her brother, but you stop her by placing a hand on her shoulder and shaking your head at her.
Pietro also frowns at Bucky. “And what if I had? You guys would’ve seen me differently if I told you anything about my family or home life.”
“No, we wouldn’t have,” Bucky growls through clenched teeth.
Pietro’s eyes flare and he slams a hand down on the desk, standing up from the chair. “Yes you would’ve,” he growls right back, stilling everyone in the room including you. “You wouldn’t have given me a chance to so much as prospect if you knew that I came from a nice white picket fence. You would’ve thought I was a fucking joke.”
“So you lied?!” Bucky laughs dryly. “That was your solution?”
You watch the argument progress, growing gradually more nervous.
Scowling, Pietro opens his mouth to respond when another voice quickly interjects. A feminine voice.
“What I wanna know,” she speaks lowly, quieting everyone instantly as her eyes fall on you. “Is who is she and how the hell did two little girls sneak past Joe?”
When she finishes speaking, she turns to Steve and they share a look.
The clear trust between them prickles at your skin strangely, but you ignore it, focusing instead on all the eyes now zeroed in on you.
Growing meek, you open your mouth to speak. “I...”
“She’s my best friend,” comes Pietro’s rough voice, causing your head to snap in his direction.
Your brows shoot up incredulously, his words igniting a fire that had been thrumming beneath your veins since he left and wrapping a noose around your heart, squeezing it every once in a while.
“Your-“ you laugh breathlessly at that. “Your best friend, huh?”
His expression falters and he looks at you softly, taking a step toward you. “Y/n..”
You laugh dryly, shaking your head at him vigorously. “I’m your best friend? Because last I checked, best friends don’t just up and leave eachother with no explanation or goodbyes to join some- some motorcycle gang,” you spit, throwing your arms up and motioning to the people standing around with slight disgust.
Pietro just his hand out to touch you, but just the thought of him laying a hand you has you gently pushing Wanda off and stumbling back from his touch like it’s the most revolting thing you’ve ever encountered.
“Don’t,” you hiss, glaring at him through your tears and promptly ignoring the look of hurt that flashes over his face. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
You spew the angry words that are hot on your tongue and that have been burning a hole into your heart for years, unable to contain your emotions any longer.
“This was a mistake,” you mumble, turning to Wanda and making a point of ignoring all the pairs of eyes that are watching the whole spectacle unfold.
“I’m glad you found your brother Wanda, but I’m can’t stay here any longer, I’m sorry.”
And with that you’re spinning on your heels and angrily storming out of the office, closing the door behind you to block out all the voices screaming your name.
That’s when the tears begin to fall. One after the other, hot and angry and you wipe at them furiously as you stalk out of the corridor.
By the time you’re back out in the warehouse, it’s empty. Only empty beer bottles and still smoking ashtrays left behind.
You squint, waving the smoke from your face, and make a beeline straight for the door. Your heart is hammering aggressively in your chest, but you don’t care. All you want is to leave all of this behind.
The fresh air hits you beautifully as you finally make it outside, and you lean against the wall, inhaling the fresh air deeply. You let it flow into your lungs, and attempt to calm your heart before you collapsed or something.
“Need a ride?”
You straighten out when you hear his voice come from behind you, hastily wiping at your tears.
“No thank you,” you respond firmly.
Steve comes up right in front of you. “Well, I say you do so c’mon.”
Finally, you look up at him and frown. “No thanks, I’m fine.”
He sighs tiredly as if you’re the most exasperating person he’s ever dealt with.
“I’m sorry doll face, but I’ll be damned if I let you walk around at this time of night by yourself. Now let’s go.”
He grabs your arm firmly in his hand and begins to tug you along, but you instantly resist and shove him off of you, tugging your hand back. The motion has your back landing on the hard wall and you huff in annoyance.
“I said I’m fine!” You glare up at him, but as soon as the words leave your mouth, you regret it.
His cool blue eyes quickly turn dark and he clenches his jaw, drawing in a sharp calming inhale.
“I-I can walk home by myself,” you whisper, turning away.
But before you can make it too far, he’s gripping your shoulder and spinning you back around.
“Stop being so difficult and-”
“Why do you even care?!” You lash out, no longer caring.
He licks his lips and steps close to you, nostrils flaring. “Just do as I say.”
You scoff a laugh out at him and shake your head in disbelief. Who did he think you were? He couldn’t just order you around like you were one of his lackeys.
“You know, men like you disgust me,” your voice trembles slightly when you see him fist his hands by his sides, but you continue. “You think you can just do whatever you want because everyone is just so damn scared of you and your little biker gang. Well, I’m not, so just leave me the hell alone because you won’t intimidate me into anything.”
You swallow, pushing at his chest with as much strength as you can muster, but he doesn’t budge an inch, instead, he’s quickly gripping your wrists in a painfully tight hold and before you can even react, raising them above your head.
You let out a loud gasp when he presses his hard warm body to yours quickly thereafter, effectively trapping you into the wall behind you.
You wiggle aggressively beneath him, panic rising. “Hey! Get the hell off of me!”
You try to kick your legs out but his weight is too great. All your efforts are in vain but that doesn’t mean you’ll stop trying.
“Stop,” he grunts, using his free hand to wrap around your neck firmly, raising your head so your eyes were on his. His grip isn’t so hard that he’s hurting you, but it’s firm enough to keep you in place- right where he wanted you.
You would’ve kept fighting, even if you didn’t stand a chance against his strength because it wasn’t in your nature to give up so easily, except something made you stop.
You had never seen such angry eyes in your life. So much animosity and unchecked anger raging in such beautiful eyes.
His warm puffs of breath smell of whiskey, soft and smoky, and cinnamon as they fan your face softly. He’s breathing hard and you are too, so in your confined space where both of your chest crushed together, they’re rising and falling rapidly together.
He speaks, his gaze dark and his voice cold and mocking but also grave.
“My ‘little motorcycle gang’ as you call it with such disgust should’ve had you and your friend’s pretty little heads for that stunt you pulled back there,” he growls, causing you to stiffen up and swallow tightly.
His grip on your throat tightens just a little bit and he watches the motion, his own eyes darkening before lazily dragging back up to your gaze.
“In this life, you don’t fucking sneak into a meeting like that and just escape unscathed. You’re fucking lucky I-“
“You what?” You snap, tilting your head at him mockingly. “Spared me? Please, spare me now too, oh holy one.” You roll your eyes.
You’re aware that not holding your tongue is very dangerous but honestly this night has been the worst of your life and now this domineering man who you find utterly enigmatic is telling you what to do without even knowing you.
He chuckles darkly at you, eyes flashing. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with doll. So I suggest you shut the fuck up before I-“
“Just let me go home and you won’t have to worry about me anymore.”
His jaw clenches at that. “No.”
“Why not?” You narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t even know you.”
“But you will,” he says seriously.
You purse your lips tightly to suppress the urge to tell him that wasn’t happening and that you weren’t going to see him.
“Let me go.”
He holds your gaze for only a few torturously long seconds before sighing and pushing himself away from you. You heave a big sigh once he’s a few steps away from you and whirl around ready to walk away.
“We’ll see eachother again...Y/n.”
You freeze upon hearing him say your name, but don’t dare turn around. Too many complications could come from that.
“I highly doubt that, Steve,” you call back before quickly speeding away and disappearing into the night.
A FEW DAYS LATER (STEVE’S POV)
I’m playing around with my favorite match, flipping the steel lid on and off, on and off, on and off, lost deep in my thoughts when a knock pulls me back to reality.
“Come in!” I call out.
Bucky comes in a manila folder in his hands.
I eye it. “You got it?”
He nods and sets it down in front of me. I quickly reach out to grab it, but he presses down on it, holding it in place.
I slowly raise my eyes from his hand to his eyes, tilting my head at him questioningly.
“Do you like her?” his eyes harden.
I can’t help but scoff out a laugh at that. “No, Bucky, I don’t like her, I want to fuck her. There’s a difference.”
He taps his finger. “Really? Because you’ve never asked me to research any of the girls you’ve fucked before.”
I purse my lips and shrug. “So this one is a little more interesting. So what?” I snatch the folder impatiently from him, leaning back into my chair and flipping it open.
“Steve....” he warns.
Bucky had been my best friend for far more time than even this club existed, so he knew me better than anyone which usually made him an amazingly efficient partner in crime and vice president, but on the other hand- a huge pain in my ass.
I sigh annoyedly, glancing up at him from beneath the folder. “Bucky, I just want to know more about her, it’s not like I’m planning to ask her to be my old lady, christ.”
Bucky clicks his tongue and finally backs off. “Yeah, okay.”
I lean back and flip the folder back up when he whirls around to leave, but he abruptly stops before stepping out and calls out.
“Hm?” I don’t look up.
“Don’t fall for her.”
I smirk. “Do I ever?”
He shakes his head seriously. “Steve I mean it. She and Pietro obviously have history. Don’t fuck things up here for all of us for a pair of legs.”
This time, I do look up wanting to ask him what he meant, but he was already gone. I blink down at the folder, reading the details intently.
“College student...” I whisper to myself, thumbing the page thoughtfully.
The folder listed everything about her, from her height to her weight to her social media handles and closest friends and family.
Her dad was apparently some rich asshat who had a hand in the oil business, her mom was some hotshot lawyer in New York before she gave that up for a quaint life in a small town where she could raise her only child.
I wince. “Yikes.”
They were extremely religious people, never missed a service since they started coming here and their daughter well she...
I pause reading when I stumble upon a picture of her, or well a younger version of her at the church, pressing a cross to her forehead, her eyes closed.
I can’t help but smile. So she’s always been pretty...
It’s just now she’s grown, her curves fleshed out, her face more chiseled and her eyes more striking. God, just thinking about those eyes has the blood rushing downwards.
Wanda and Pietro Maximoff have been her best friend since they were practically in diapers, it went on. I pause when I come upon a photo of all of them together, again younger versions of themselves, maybe fourteen or fifteen? They’re all hugging each other, smiling wide.
“Hm...” I skim down the page. “She volunteers at the...” my eyebrows shoot up. “At the hospital after school.”
Then there’s a picture of her, in a nurse outfit, leaning over and reading to a sick child. I snap the folder close after that, just to let it sink in.
I mean it could be some bullshit her parents made her do to aid their stellar reputations, but she apparently volunteers a lot of hours and almost religiously. If that’s not dedication I don’t know what is...
And you may be wondering; what is a biker gang doing with all this information? Well, the short answer is that we have practically the entire town bought or threatened (mostly bought).
I learned early on in my life that money makes the world go 'round. And most of the officials in this county under fucking oath didn't actually give a shit. So yeah, I was a scumbag outlaw, but at least I was honest about it.
My business wasn’t clean or honest but at least I didn’t put up a front.
I lean back in my chair and inhale sharply, closing my eyes for a second. I was hoping that second is enough to get the images that had been replaying over and over in my head since I’d first seen her out, but all I see is her, those eyes, the way her ample chest rose and fell with each breath she took when she was pissed, the way her voice cracked when she ran away, the way she smelled like vanilla and a fucking field of flowers and especially the way she spoke to me like I was beneath her.
Like my lifestyle was beneath her.
I squeeze my eyes. “Holy shit.”
I open them back up, stare at the folder below me and decide right there and then;
“I’m going to have you begging to be in my bed, Y/n.”
The next chapter is going to fill in those days from the reader’s pov and so on.
This took a while but im quite proud! Please let me know what you think, I read asks, replies-- all of them!!!
A Special thanks to:
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