#natasha!mafia

[unholyhelbig]

request: single mom reader decides to loan shark from natasha’s mob. when reader can’t pay back the loan, natasha’s men capture and beat her. natasha sees reader among the criminals and drug dealers who also haven’t payed back their loans, and excuses her, forgiving her debt.

Title: The Oversight

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 2799

Warnings: Drug use, kidnapping, guns, choking, threats, blood, horrible grammar.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

[a/n: Yeah, I kind of feel like this needs a part two. Let me know what you guys think and if you're interested]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Each breath you drew in spurred a sharp stitch in your side. They came in rapid succession, even as you struggled to recall the fuzzy details that usually calmed you down. Your first street name. What you called your first pet. The name of your second-grade teacher. They all swirled foggily, unable to recall.

Your mouth tasted metallic cotton and your heartbeat was pulsing through your entire body. Counting the thrums hadn’t helped either, you gave up as you rolled your neck in a snow circle. The dried blood that hardened against the side of your face, your cheek, and down the expanse of your collarbone crackled at the soft movement.

The room that housed you was pitch black. It was hard to tell when you opened your eyes, tears welling up and dripping down your face onto your uniform. Your arms were bound behind your back, shoulders screaming in protest and fingers going numb from the cold. Your small noises echoed. Wherever you were was impossibly vast.

The next breath that escaped you was deeper than the rest. Not necessarily calm, but enough for you to take stock of the situation; there were flashes of you leaving the diner where you worked nothing short of twelves. It had just rained, and the air was humid. You dropped your keys and bent down to pick them up.

Before you could insert them into the lock, something hard had come down on your temple. There was a rush of heat sloshing down your face and a moment later, as you looked up at the sky, the steel tip of a boot took the rest of your consciousness.

That didn’t bother you. You were fine, a little banged up, but fine. Your daughter was left with the sitter. It could have been hours, maybe even a day. Your stomach clenched in hunger, and you drifted in and out of lucidity. They’d left you un-gagged but you didn’t have it in you to scream. You had a sinking feeling that no one would hear you anyway.

You’d flinched when the first 500-volt lamp let out a sharp hiss before flipping on. You shrunk into yourself, blinking away the sudden burst of white light that filled the room. It was directed towards you, and the rest of the space was still a frustratingly thick darkness. You couldn’t see who had turned them on, but they could see you.

The boots that walked across the floor were loud. They echoed like your earlier sobs. A metal chair was being dragged, and the sound was piercing. It did nothing to aide your aching head. You were thankful to see something other than pitch black, however big the danger.

You recognized the man who was in front of you. His outline flickered solidly. He looked rougher than you did; dirty-blonde hair, and stubble. There was a bandage across the center of his nose, on his fingertips, as if he’d fisted the razor while shaving. His purple T-shirt was covered by a dusty-brown leather jacket. His stare was hard, emotionless.

“You’re awfully quiet for a hostage.” He said, straddling the chair he had dragged over. His chest rested against the metal backing. “You can scream if you want. Wear yourself down. It’ll make this a lot easier.”

“What is this?” You asked instead of taking him up on his offer.

He was familiar to you. Clint. He came into the diner every Wednesday and Friday night like clockwork. He’d order a roast beef on rye with Swiss cheese and extra dressing on the side. He’d suck down two beers with his meal and tipped generously.

Sometimes he was with the man they called ‘The Winter Soldier’. You’d always found the name laughable, but the rumors about him were enough for you to hold your tongue. He never ate but would sometimes order a diet coke and sip it while Clint spoke through large bites of food.

Law enforcement wouldn’t’ touch Bucky Barnes, and your boss would typically comp whatever he ordered. A few months ago, you had shared your first words with him behind the diner. The air stunk of rotted food and hardly counted as fresh air. However, it was a few degrees cooler than the kitchen.

He had offered you a cigarette, one already perched between his lips, a zippo lighter at the ready in his other hand. You declined with the shake of your head, and a quiet ‘no thank you’. There was an uncomfortable silence, but it was better than the damp warmth of the kitchen. A sweet, burning scent filled your nose when he lit his cigarette and let the smoke curl around the two of you like a slack rope.

“You work hard in there.” Bucky said, taking a long inhale. He held it within his lungs, voice pinched. “Harder than anyone else I’ve seen in a while.”

You weren’t about to tell him about your daughter, not with his reputation, or the small smattering of pink scars across his chiseled features. So, you nodded instead. The number of tips you got in the broken down, greasy diner was the difference between two meals and one. So, you smiled sweetly and laid on the southern accent even though you’d only spent a short stint in Georgia when you were eighteen. It was easy to perfect.

“I bet you could name my order right now.”

“You don’t order.”

“I don’t trust the food.” He shrugged listlessly, a lazy smile against his lips. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“That’s a good call.”

He laughed at your honesty, and it was a nice sound. He disarmed you and that was worrying. Bucky let the cigarette sizzle out in a puddle at his feet. He used the tip of his steel-toed boot to grind the paper into damp ash.

“You wouldn’t’ have to work so hard if you had some extra cash, would you?”

The question caught you off guard and you couldn’t stifle the vicious glare that you gave him. Your break was almost over, and you could have, should have, walked back into the restaurant to finish the rest of your shift. Bucky lifted his hands up as a peace offering.

“Look, lady, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. All I’m saying is, you’re not blind to what happens in there, the type of people that frequent this place. You’ve always turned a blind eye and that’s something my boss appreciates. Something she trusts.”

“And who exactly is your boss?”

He tsked “I can’t tell you that, sweetheart. But she wants to make you an offer, she wants to offer you a loan. You’re what? Three months behind on rent? She’ll front that for you and the following two.”

You took a deep breath of stale air. It was a tempting offer, even if it came in the form of a seedy enforcer in an even seedier alleyway. You were three days from getting evicted. Three days from ending up on the streets in a neighborhood that didn’t’ have a single safe one.

“What’s the catch?” You asked.

“Catch? There’s no catch. This is a friendly loan. All you’ve gotta do is pay it back when you’re on your feet again.”

It was an oversight, not asking for a concrete timeline. You hadn’t paid Bucky’s boss back yet, and over the next few months, there were stifled threats, and both Bucky and Clint watched you carefully at the job that you still worked like nothing had changed. The feeling of being indebted lingered, but this time, it was to an unknown entity instead of a landlord that was ultimately harmless.

Everything needed to be paid back in full. These were thousands you didn’t have. And now, two weeks after the initial threat, you were strapped to a metal chair with blood dripping down the sound of your face, in despite need of a drink of water.

Clint was harmless compared to The Winter Soldier, but his muscles still flexed under his shirt as he pulled his jacket off and let it fall to the dusty floor illuminated in blue light. “I would prefer not to get that dirty. It’s genuine leather, you know?”

You glowered at him as he stood and took a few more steps towards you. He looked relatively harmless each time you’d seen him in the diner. Sometimes he had a girl with him, a slight thing that was just as littered in scars as he was. She would order a plate of bacon that was cooked to a crisp and split it with a golden retriever that laid at their feet.

When his wrapped knuckles made contact with your cheek, your head clocked in the opposite direction. There was a sharp pain in your jaw, a ringing in your ear. He had slammed into the same side of your face as earlier, and you lost vision for a second.

Blood filled your mouth, and you spit the mix of saliva, bile, and blood onto the floor. There was a drain in the center and that worried you more than anything else. Your breathing came fast and hard and you glared at him, teeth stained pink.

“Is that all?” You asked him.

It was stupid, you knew it was stupid. But it bothered you more than anything that you had gotten yourself wrapped up in this. Your father was no stranger to the mob, and you should have seen it from a mile away. The fear he lived with. Until the day he died, he would look over his shoulder and you refused to do the same.

Clint grabbed your face, squeezing hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. “You’re a tough chick, huh? I think we both know why you’re here. All you have to do is get the money and all of this vanishes.”

“I don’t have the money.” Your words were garbled between his fingers. “You’re sure as fuck not going to get it if you kill me.”

“Kill you?” Clint unhanded you and let out a laugh. “Kill you, she says. No, we’re not going to kill you, she would never get her money that way… your daughter on the other hand.”

You pulled against the ropes, and they dug painfully into you. The chair was liable to break, but it had been bolted to the floor. It was much stronger than the one he’d dragged over. The mix of anger and fear that had rushed over you pulled away any thought of lingering aches and pains. Be damned to the head trauma.

Your teeth were gritted, voice a low hiss “Leave her the fuck out of this.”

“Did I strike a nerve?”

“I swear to you, I will get your money, I just need time. I’m not… You can keep me under surveillance as collateral, take my car, my apartment- just leave her out of this.”

Clint gripped your throat with his calloused hand, your ability to breathe became more difficult, half-moon nails digging into your flesh. It stung fiercely, and you let out a gurgle in response. “Or she could be our collateral. I think she’d make a great enforcer, with the proper education, that is.”

Is that what happened to the girl that ate lunch with Clint at the diner? She didn’t looked like she was there against her will, but there was an immense sadness to her eyes. Clint hadn’t released you yet and your vison was growing fuzzy at the edges.

“Let her go,”

Your chest was burning at this point and when he pulled his hand back you tried desperately to regain your sense of lucidity. You coughed, nearly vomiting as he took a long stride backwards, seemingly put into his place with a simple sentence.

Over the ringing of your ears, you heard the sharp click of heels. They were confident, and your chin dropped to your chest as you panted in succession, spit dripping in strings from your lips. You didn’t have the strength to look up, your head was pounding.

“I think that’s enough,” Her voice was smooth, just the smallest bit of an accent in her words. You couldn’t place it, but you couldn’t tell which way was up at this point. “You’re dismissed.”

“Oh, come on Natasha, I was just having a little fun.”

“Dismissed, Clint.”

There was a labored sigh and the sound of his footsteps retreating. It brought little relief to you, however. You felt as if you had traded one evil for another. Eventually, you lifted your head to stare at the ceiling. The stranger hadn’t said anything, and the pitch dark above was more desirable to the unknown.

You heard her sit down and felt her eyes watching you. The swimming in your head started to dissipate so you clocked her with a stare. The woman in front of you was angelic, in such a way that you figured Clint’s choking stunt had actually done you in.

Her stare was an unripe green rimmed in gold, her cheekbones carved from marble. There was a beautiful softness to her expression, and her deep red hair flowed over her shoulders in a waterfall of color. She was studying you, not phased by the cold of the room.

The woman wore a black t-shirt, deep slashes of ink peaking from the dip of the V-neck. You didn’t’ let your eyes linger long. It was a marking that you’d seen on Clints bicep and on Buckey’s hand. You hadn’t gotten a chance to clock it on the girl that was kept in their company.

“Is this the part where you come in with your good cop schtick?” You mumbled.

“Darling, Clint is the good cop.”

“Nice, I like it.” You rolled your shoulders back, fighting the stiffness “Bad cop and worse cop is much more effective.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you for someone in your position. Thousands of dollars in debt and seemingly no way to pay back my money. It’s not a good spot to be in, Y/n.”

Natasha stood from the chair, her muscles straining at the action. In a fluid motion, she pulled a black standard issue handgun from the space between her skin and her jeans. She pumped the shaft, the sound echoed more than your quickened breathing.

She used the tip to push your chin up, forcing you to look into her unblinking eyes. You were a dead man, you knew that from her cold stare. You couldn’t look away, even if the option was given.

“Baby, I’ve been in this business for a long time.” Her breath was hot on your collarbone, a mix of mint and tobacco. “I know exactly the type that you are. I cater to your kind. More often than not, my clientele need a little bit of encouragement.”

The tip of her gun traced your jaw, her finger loosely on the trigger. It was cold against your collarbone, down the center of your breasts. She held it there, jaw set in stone.

“We’ll keep you here for a few days. Once you dry out a little, I’m sure you’ll suddenly come into the cash.”

“Dry out? You think I’m on drugs?”

The tip pushed hard enough into your sternum to make you let out a grunt of pain. “You hide it quite well, pet. I’m sure it won’t be as simple when you start to feel those withdraw symptoms. Money flows simple in this town when those cravings kick in.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her, despite the weapon that she was packing. A frown creased between her eyebrows, but she held it in place. “The hardest thing I’ve ever hit is a blunt in a high school rotation. That was your brilliant plan? Dry me out and then what? Search my backyard for jars filled with money. I don’t have it. I make 2.50 an hour at a diner.”

Natasha scrutinized you, eyes hard. She righted herself and pulled the gun away from your center before flipping on the safety and shoving it back into her jeans. She started to pace the length of the light.

“Bucky, he offered me a loan and I took it so I could pay the rent on an apartment for me and my daughter.” You said, voice quiet “I work thirteen hour shifts six days a week, and it’s still not enough. I’m not… I don’t know who you cater to, but I have a feeling it’s not someone like me.”

“No.” she crossed her arms over her chest, “It seems as if you’re an oversight.”

“Great,” you flexed your numbing fingers, “An oversight you’ll let go?”

Natasha shook her head, clenching and unclenching her jaw. “No, I’m afraid not.”

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Mafia Boss Natasha Romanoff #Marvel #Marvel Fanfiction #Clint Barton #Kate Bishop #Bucky Barnes #Mafia au #request

[oizysian]

Part II: Daddy Issues

I Set the World on Fire masterlist

Warnings: non-con touching, talk of sex, slapping

Word count: 2.3k

My breath was shaky as we exited the car, my hearing and smell the only senses I could rely on. The blindfold that covered my eyes soaked up my tears, my hands were tied behind my back and my footsteps were tentative as I walked with the woman who had kidnapped me. She had a tight grip on my arm as she led me along and I tried my damndest to pick up some sort of clues with my remaining senses.

Leaves crunched beneath my feet as we walked and the air smelt crisp. The only sound to be heard was birds chirping and our footsteps, so I had nothing to go on to identify where I was.

We stopped and I heard the sound of a large door opening, creaking with effort and age.

“Let’s go.” The woman said and gave me a nudge, and I started walking again.

The crunching of leaves changed to clicking of heels as we entered. There were multiple people now and it felt as though we were walking forever when I heard another door open and then close behind us after we entered.

“Now what do we have here?” The voice was smooth and sensual and it sent a tingling down my spine.

“Surprise! How’d I do, Natasha? Delivered with no damage.” The woman next to me said and I scoffed, inching away from her. “Don’t worry, she’s friendly - not trained, but friendly.”

“Fuck you.” I spat and I heard the women laughing.

“She’s a real charmer,” the other woman commented, a hint of amusement in her voice. “Take the blindfold off of her.”

The blonde woman sighed and did as she was told, removing the blindfold and stuffing it in her back pocket. I squinted at the sudden brightness of the room, trying to make out the image in front of me.

A woman - a very beautiful woman - sat on a very expensive looking couch, lounging in a pencil skirt and a button up shirt that showed way too much cleavage. My heart sped up at the sight of her, fear overtaking me for the most part, but I couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t attractive.

“You’re even prettier in person.” She said softly, getting up from where she was sitting and approaching us.

She ran one of her long fingers down the side of my face, then grabbed my chin gently and tilted my head from side to side so she could see all of me.

“Exquisite.”

“What do you want?” I finally voiced, trembling in her powerful presence.

“Leave us.” She looked at the blonde from over my shoulder and when she didn’t move, the woman spoke again. “Yelena. I’ll call for you when I’m done. Go.”

I heard her huff from behind me and she walked out with whoever else accompanied us. Once the door slammed shut, the redheaded woman looked me over once more, a hunger in her gaze.

“Just beautiful.”

“What do you want from me?” My voice wavered, my breath getting caught in my throat.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

I shook my head.

“Revenge.”

I backed away from her, almost losing my footing as I attempted to escape. I made it to the door and banged on it with my shoulder, feebly trying to break it down. I could hear her laughing and I did my best not to cry as I realized I was completely trapped - there was no escape.

“Maybe it would help if I untied you.” She teased and I grunted, slumping against the door as she approached me. “I’m not going to hurt you.” I looked up at her, my bottom lip trembling as I accepted my defeat.

She helped me to my feet and smiled.

“Let me start again. I’m Natasha Romanoff.”

I stayed silent. This woman had me kidnapped and was now trying to be my friend?

“And you’re Y/N.”

I panted softly as she spoke, my eyes hard with defiance.

“Lena was right. Not trained at all.”

“I’m not a dog.” I snapped and she laughed.

“No, but that’s how you’ve been treated, isn’t it?”

Her words hurt and I’m sure it was very visible on my face that she had hit a sore spot. She cupped my cheek, lifting my head up to look her in her eyes.

“I won’t treat you like she did.” She stroked my cheek with her thumb. “I’ll give you the world.”

“You’re a monster.” I said, trembling.

She blinked at me, her breathing heavy.

“You want to see a monster?”

Fear shined in my eyes at her words.

“I can show you a monster.” She said, turning me around so my face was pressed against the door. “Let me demonstrate,” she said, pausing to grab at my hips and tug down my pants. “How a monster gets what they want.”

I screamed, wriggling under her weight as she held me down, her hand threading through my hair, grabbing a fistful and tugging on it.

“Monsters just take.” She hissed in my ear, giving my ass a slap before running her hand along the swell of it. “If I want this,” she grabbed at me and I cried out in pain. “I’ll just take it. That’s what a monster does.”

“Please!” I squirmed under her, unable to control my body’s reaction to her. “Stop!”

“A monster,” she continued. “Wouldn’t ask for your consent. A monster doesn’t listen to ‘stop’.” She brought her lips to my ear and panted softly against it, her breasts pressed up against my back. “A monster would rip your panties off and stuff three fingers inside your cunt whether you wanted it or not.”

She brought her hand around to cup my sex, undoubtedly feeling the heat through my panties.

“You like monsters, don’t you?”

I shook my head, tears still cascading down my cheeks.

“Oh no?” She pressed her hand against me and I jerked back into her, my ass grinding into her crotch. “You’re telling me no, but your body is screaming yes.”

I thrashed underneath her, no matter how I moved I was pressing myself against her. I couldn’t escape and I couldn’t control myself. I bit my lip and tried to control my breathing as her hand released my hair, but trailed down to the nape of my neck, grabbing me and holding me against the door.

“You’re wet for me. How would Wanda feel seeing you like this?”

“Fuck you!” I screamed and she let out a soft chuckle.

“Take a look over there, printsessa.” She directed my gaze over to a video camera that was set up in the corner of the room, watching us, following our every move. “I’m gonna send Wanda this video and she’s gonna hear you cumming for me over and over and -”

“You bitch! Wanda!” I sobbed, still struggling against her.

“I’m not a bitch. I’m a monster, remember?”

I could feel the ropes burning my skin as I struggled, my legs spread apart and shaking as I tried to keep myself standing.

“And if I can do this to you,” she snarled. “Imagine what I can do to Wanda.”

“No, please!” I cried. “Don’t hurt her!”

I stopped moving against her, and she let me go. I slid down the door and fell in a heap at her feet, still crying softly.

“What do you want me to do?”

She knelt down next to me, brushing the hair from my face gently.

“Give in to me. That’s all you need to do.”

•

Several Days Later

“You bitch! Wanda!”

Wanda gritted her teeth as she watched the video sent to her of Y/N, visibly shaking with rage.

“No, please! Don’t hurt her!”

Her heart broke as she listened to her plead for her safety. She had been such a bitch to her and here she was sacrificing herself to protect her.

“Find that Romanoff bitch.” Wanda said to Dimitri, her voice low and dangerous. “I’m going to kill her.”

“Do you think that’s wise, Wanda?” He spoke to her softly, gently.

“She has Y/N!” She yelled as she stood from her desk, barely holding back from the temptation of destroying everything in the room out of white hot rage.

“Exactly, she has Y/N. We’re at a disadvantage. We should see what she wants.” Leo suggested and Wanda stared daggers at him.

“She wouldn’t have gotten to Y/N if you were doing your goddamn job!”

Dimitri gave Leo a look, one that Wanda did not fail to miss, and sat back down in her chair, rubbing her face with her hands.

“I don’t care what she wants - whatever she wants she can have it.” Her breath hitched. “I just need Y/N back.”

“We’ll get her back.” Dimitri spoke with determination in his voice.

“Go.” She said softly, not even bothering to raise her head. “I don’t want to see either of you again until you have some news for me.”

Leo turned and left without a word, but Dimitri lingered, clearly having something on his mind.

“I said go, Dimitri.” She said as she finally looked up at him and she saw the odd look on his face, nearly causing her to go pale.

“Wanda …” he started and she interrupted him before he could finish.

“You know something, don’t you?”

•

“No more tears, printsessa,” she cooed softly, stroking her thumb along my lower lip. “She’s not coming for you.”

I jerked my head away from her, still unable to believe that.

“That’s not true.” I whimpered softly, sniffling as she grabbed hold of my face again so I would look at her.

“She’s not coming. So open that pretty mouth for daddy. Just like before.”

Defeated, I opened my mouth and she slid her fingers inside. I wrapped my lips around the intrusive digits, my tongue swirling along the length of them, just like she showed me.

“That’s my good girl.” She purred, stroking my hair with her free hand. “Get them nice and wet.”

Tears trailed down my cheeks as I sucked on her fingers, my mind wandering as I did as I was told. What if Wanda wasn’t coming for me? What if she didn’t care and did leave me here with Natasha?

She pulled her fingers out of my mouth and before I could react, she slapped me across the face, knocking me back onto the bed.

“Stay with me, printsessa. I want you here with me.”

“Yes, daddy.” I cried, scrambling to my knees so I could ask for her forgiveness.

I hated giving into her, but I didn’t have a choice. It was either me or Wanda and I didn’t want to imagine what she’d do if she got her hands on her.

I would daydream that Wanda would come for me, get me out of this hell and we could be together again. But, she hasn’t come yet, and I’ve lost count of how many days I’ve been trapped here with Natasha.

Days blended with nights and now I wasn’t sure what time or what day it was. She kept me in a darkened bedroom with no windows, and I wasn’t allowed to leave the room under any circumstances. I was a prisoner and she made sure I knew it when I acted out of line. But when I was good, she treated me more like an equal; letting me feed myself, not being tied to the bed, and being allowed to go to the bathroom by myself.

So, more often than not, I obeyed her, let her have me in all the ways she wanted me just to hurt Wanda. It wasn’t always entirely unpleasant. Some nights she was gentle with me, and some nights she just wanted me to cum to hurt Wanda. I fought her so many times, struggling against my body to not cum for her, but I couldn’t control myself and every night she won.

Natasha was an incredibly powerful woman, and everyone she surrounded herself with knew it and respected her. To me, she was just a monster. She didn’t feel, she didn’t love, she just wanted and took. I didn’t know what she wanted from Wanda, and I couldn’t imagine what she could’ve done to this woman to have her go to these lengths to torture her.

Was she even suffering? Did she even care about what was happening to me?

She reached behind me and slapped my ass hard, causing me to fall face first into her, her other hand steadying me before I toppled us both over.

“This will be easier for you once you stop thinking about her. She doesn’t care about you.”

“Stop.” I cried, rubbing my face against the softness of her shirt.

“She doesn’t care like I do. I’ve taken care of you - fed you, bathed you - I’ve even made you cum.”

“Stop it.” I sobbed against her.

She stroked my hair gently, almost soothingly.

“She gave you to me. You’re mine now. She doesn’t care about you.”

I knew she was saying these things to test me, to see if I’ll disobey her and be defiant, but I didn’t have the strength. I was completely drained of everything. It was beginning to seem real, the fact that Wanda gave me to Natasha. The reality that I would have to live like this forever and that this was my life now began to sink in.

I cried, my tears soaking into the fabric of her expensive shirt. She shushed me softly, brushing the hair back from my flushed face.

“Once you give in to me completely, things will get easier for you here, I promise.”

She knew I would give in, it was only a matter of time. I didn’t know what she wanted from Wanda, but it was clear that Wanda wasn’t willing to trade it away for me, and I belonged to Natasha.

“Yes, daddy,” I whispered, taking her hand in mine and bringing it up to my face, rubbing my cheek against her palm. “I’m yours.”

“Say it once more for daddy.”

I looked up into her darkened eyes, swallowing roughly as I pushed back the tears that threatened to fall once again.

“I’m yours.”

•

@marvelogic @casquinhaa @mathxa @oh-thats-cute @ornorr @milkeeteaa @souanick @nothanksbye07 @romanoff101 @dracarys8287

#oizysian writes #mafia!au #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff smut #wanda maxmoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x y/n

[darkdemeter]

OLD DRAFT CONCEPT : " GUARD DOG "

—- not my gif, credit to original poster! -—

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader (x slight Natasha Romanoff)

A/N — Here's a little bedtime story for ya'll. Old draft concept for an upcoming and looong oneshot for Wanda in a mafia au setting. Bits and pieces may be recognised in the published column plot wise but overall, we're taking an alternate route, my babbies.

WORD COUNT — 2.2k

READER DISCRETION — Alcohol consumption — mafia business and semi dark themes — profanity — mention of death and murder — mention of black market and auction — reader and Nat have some history — player reader Tony is so proud — Alexander Pierce is of course an arsehole, what else is new? — Rumlow is a bad guy (duh) — I think that's it?

An expensive investment. A broad term to use for a werewolf broken in by the system at a young age. But it’s true. 

Alexander Pierce, the finance manager and ringleader as a whole, did all he could to break you in, and to say he did is an understatement. He exceeded the limits you once believed you had and once you were ready, he put you out in the field to garner your reputation. 

You had no limits. Ruthless in your endeavour to complete whatever task was required of you, prepared to do whatever it took, your peers could only look at you with both fear and admiration. 

When all was said and done, you were given your collar, then sold through the underground hub for criminals: the black market. 

That’s when you learnt in the span of the few minutes that the auction lasted for, that you were either a trophy to those of the higher class of crime, or a very wanted source of security and war. From black funding operators that had their hand in the military’s pit on the hunt for a war hound, to the gangster overlords who controlled territories in the differing states and countries, requiring some form of high end security, there was a very rapid increase in the price they were each willing to pay. 

At a total of twenty-five million, your collar and services were sold to Mr. Tony Stark. From the sleek fit of a light grey, three piece suit and bright pink tie, Stark had a brighter outlook on the window of his underhand activities. He was the type that lounged back in the severity of his criminal dealings.

Unlike his fellow company who each wore darker palette suits of either navy blue or jet black. He stood out for sure as his auburn tinted glasses did little to hide the one question on his mind: Was his money well spent?

Well, to say at the very least, you wouldn’t be here tonight if you weren’t every single cent he spent on you three years ago. 

Thinking about the memory now, this is a different tone entirely. Dark and neon is how you remember the black market scene, stalls and cube stores with an assortment of supplies anyone in the business would need, whether that be for the amateurs - which were the usual target customers - or the smaller businesses which belonged to small cluster gangs. 

The big time runners had designated storehouses to spare where they obtained their supplies, and ran other dealings and hand-offs in and out of private rooms in the clubs. 

Here, the scene is warm, lavish and made for those who seek the comfort in living in marble halls and pristine white pillars, short cut grass and elaborate parties such as this one. 

“Shit, this party is awfully chipper for someone who died last week,” you huff, eyes scanning the crowd from the smooth, darkly polished bar, which you incidentally found very comfortable to lean back on when told for the hundredth time, “Just sit tight, just a little bit longer.” 

You didn’t have the time nor patience to sit around getting older by the damn minute. Thankfully, Tony put his card behind the bar so that meant an endless river of drinks. Because you needed the alcohol. A lot. 

Not a moment too late is your glass refilled with your refreshment.

“Please, Y/N,” sighs Steve from your right side, arms folded over his chest, navy blue suit straining just a bit too tightly against his body, “have some respect for the Maximoff family. They lost their only male heir to a deal gone wrong. They need our support.”

Your shoulders rise with a particular deep inhale before falling lax, you swirl the sliver of whiskey left in your glass and with a jerk of your wrist you finish it. Ice rattles in your glass as you shimmy it, indicating you need a refill and pronto. 

“People live, people die. You cross someone and you get shot in the back. It happens.” 

“He was gunned down in the streets with a fucking machine gun, Y/N. You consider that a mere oopsie?”

You shrug in response to Sam’s question with a pout of your bottom lip. “Pietro thought he was the shit. That’s what got him killed by Rumlow.” 

Sam runs a hand over his face, now distressed by the lack of sincerity you show for the grieving family. “For fuck sake…”

In the three years of your loyal work to the Stark family and those of his brotherhood - his allies - your colours shone through immensely to reveal a shining personality. Excluding the fact you’d become something of a playful rogue with the women. 

You simply chalk it up to your animal magnetism. Something that leaves them wanting more whenever in the presence of your company.

In fact, that was how Tony came to own unclaimed establishments and clubs in the boroughs, ones he wasn’t able to get his hands on before, but after he had you as a playable card in his fold, you provided club goers the relief of being harassed and drinks being spiked. Territorial take over schemes from rival gangs were second guessed when they saw you watching over the joint.

The after hour visits for your libido were just the perks. But you left a lot of lustful and broken little hearts in the wake of your work. 

For a werewolf, you were always assumed to be a means of security, and that much was true. Didn’t mean it excluded you from taking on other odd jobs for the families from time to time. Debt collection, assassinations, tailing and blackmail ops, the list is endless. 

When Steve casts a hardened stare your way and you mockingly raise your hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’ll offer my condolences to the heiress, but I ain’t weeping at her feet for her brother who got himself into that mess because he thought he was too big for his own shoes.”

“Just behave yourself, alright? The last thing we need is the entirety of Europe at war with us.” You roll your eyes and salute the captain. “Yessir.”

You bring the glass rim to your lips and draw a small gulpful of your refurbished liquor, the fiery taste rolls over your tongue, you savour it to keep your sanity intact lest you go insane from the waiting. Where was the heiress? 

“Well, well, I thought I wouldn’t see any of you again. Especially you.” Your head, as well as those of your group, direct their gaze to the new voice. The corners of your lips twitch up and you flash her a wolfish grin, chin tilting up slightly in your relaxed position against the bar. You looked like a cat happily laying in the sun. 

“Miss Romanoff,” each of the men greeted with a nod of their heads. You, however, pat your thigh as an invitation for her to sit. “I had work to do the next morning.”

“Mm, that’s what you tell the other girls, I’m sure.” You clap a hand to your chest with a wince. “You wound me, Sweetheart. If I had the chance, I would have stayed.” 

She hums but it’s obvious she doesn’t believe you by the rise in her brow. 

Natasha Romamoff is a hard fish to catch. One of the more established families that control practically the entirety of Europe, alongside the Maximoff family, the two were partners and crafting an empire strong enough to stand on their own without any dire need for support. 

Yes, her family had prior dealings with the brotherhood. The Starks, Wilsons, Barnes and Rogers and more, whether to collaborate on a bigger criminal project to the smaller portioned deals. Smuggled goods and weapons, blackmail intel deliverance, international bribery to keep the feds off your backs. But she never committed to joining forces. 

You suppose it’s a good power move on her part. She doesn’t have to abide by any of the family creeds, in the end, you’re all loose ends that may potentially be severed if need be. She had the ball in her court and the mysterious Maximoff heiress. 

Even your animal magnetism wasn’t enough to charm her into joining forces with Stark and his powerhouse of families, but they were surely enough to charm her into a wild one night stand. 

But as you told her. You had work to do. And now she appears to spurn you with her eyes and cruel words, but still entertains your flirtatious advances and indulges the empty space of your thigh.

For a well respected mob boss such as herself, she definitely liked to play it risky; dressing included. 

Last you saw her, she was dressed in a more professional manner. But here at this funeral party, whatever the fuck it was, she chose to wear a black, spaghetti strap cocktail dress that’s short enough to be skimming the mid of her thigh. The slit riding the dress up higher is just plain dangerous. 

She’s facing you, back arched and ass resting on the cliff of your knee. Your clawed hand supports her at the small of her back. Her perfume is strong and complimenting, the sweet bouquet of lavender rolls over the exposed tops of her breasts from her even more exposed neck. Her plump, red lips move in a way that’s hypnotic. “So I hear you’re going to be a bargaining chip for Wanda Maximoff.”

“Where’d you hear that?” you scoff with a flick of your chin. 

“I have spies who whisper to me,” she answers with a swift quirk of her brow. 

Of course she overheard the news. She then chuckles softly, and all eyes watch her with a level of suspicion. “She won’t take any deal you offer her. She’s determined to steer clear of your little gang wars over in the states.”

“Rumlow killed her brother and he has bases around our territories. Wouldn’t she appreciate the extra hands in catching the rat?” Bucky poses the question with a dark brow angled high and clenched jaw, the muscles in his cheeks flex harder when Natasha offers no affirmative response; a mark to hopefully land you in the door and good graces with the heiress. 

“You really think she wants a guard dog?” 

“Hey,” you growl with a wrinkle of your nose, fangs on the precipice of baring at her. How she used the term in a condescending manner made the fur beneath your skin bristle. Sam claps a hand to your shoulder, somehow able to sense the seething anger within you. 

“We just want to help. Offer support for her loss and bring Rumlow down.”

“No. You want a foothold in Europe. And I’m sorry but…” She looks you up and down, drinking in the sight of you and you know she can see you without your clothes on. “You’re not going to cut it, babe.”

She turns her body to make her getaway but you don’t let her slip away just like that. She gasps and looks to you with a furrowed glare when your arm circles her waist and tugs her back until she’s flush against you, the men in your company watch with trepidation of your next course of action.

“I will cut it because whether she wants to admit it or not, she needs us.”

Natasha’s eyes, true to her fashion, darken with a challenge. “You’re wasting your time. She’ll get Rumlow herself.”

“And if Rumlow plans to get her first?” For a moment you see the doubt cross her face. “That’s where she needs me.”

“Tony Stark.” Each of the men turn to the voice behind them and their once cool and collected selves turn rigid, nervous under the power one woman can hold so absolute, her green eyes scan each of their faces before they land on you. 

You finally look and meet her stare, still holding Natasha against you even as she tries to push away from you. 

“Unhand her,” the woman commands with an accented tongue. 

At first, you wanted nothing more than to play this out a little, see what makes this woman tick. But both Tony and Steve look at you, silent in their order, you sigh heavily and release Natasha. Once you do, she wastes no time in joining Wanda’s side with a bow of her head. 

“I hear that you wished to have an audience with me.” 

Wanda is the sole survivor of this ordeal. Her parents were assassinated two years ago and now her brother was killed. This is the stressed matter at hand, her empire could crumble to the ground, all that hard work put into the grave, because she’s being so fucking stubborn with this deal.

“I will not sign my family, nor any of my shares, to Stark Industries. Enough have I done to keep you out of the hands of law enforcement. I will handle Rumlow myself.”

This isn’t how any of you hoped this would go. The grief has made her stronger than before. It wasn’t exactly you were waiting for the chance for her to have a weak spot and try your luck, but you all had thought she might even be at least a little desperate for extra help. 

Natasha’s face says it all: I told you so. You can only roll your eyes and resume with what you’re doing. 

“Miss Maximoff, we only wish to help you. All we ask in return is that you grant us some territory to work with for our trade deals as payment for support lent to you to catch Rumlow.”

Thank you for Reading! (◕ ᴥ x)

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST — (Even though I doubt this is worth putting the taglist on, here it is anyway)

@alexawynters

#female reader #gn reader #male reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x werewolf! reader #werewolf reader #marvel #wanda x you #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #werewolf #mafia au #mafia wanda maximoff #mafia natasha romanoff #mafia reader #wanda maximoff x werewolf reader #old draft #concept scrap #dem's updates #wanda x y/n

[mrs-illyrian-baby]

Mob Rules | Mafia AU | Reader x ...everyone

Bucky and Steve have banned girlfriends in the gang, but they're not cruel, they know their crew works hard and needs to let off steam sometimes...and that's when your hard work starts.

Warnings: 18+ for sexual content, language and themes now and throughout this AU

Follow @illyrianlibrary for updates!

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

Bucky - Cockwarming

The room was completely silent. Each of the assembled crew around the table staring at Cap and Sarge. 

You didn’t really want anyone else in the room, you had been quite happy, sprawled on the large blanket under the table, moving between your new masters in turn. You had been licking a long stripe up Bucky’s hard cock when the first knock sounded, jolting you from your soft state into one of panic. 

Tucking himself away, Bucky had shouted ‘enter’ allowing a seeming herd of other people into the room. 

Sensing your nervousness, Steve had placed his hand on your cheek, his thumb rubbing against your bottom lip until you sucked the digit into your mouth, once more content to rest between them while they carried out their business. 

“Is this real, or a trick?” The man’s voice was like thunder, loud but clear. You couldn’t tell who was talking yet, only seeing a series of shoes, combat boots and a few loafers, one pair of battered trainers…you closed your eyes, sucking harder on Steve’s thumb and focussing on the polished shoes in front of you, one brown pair, one black pair, Steve and Bucky, Sir and Sarge, that was all you needed to worry about.  

“It’s not a trick, Thor.” Steve rolled his eyes, “we know we brought that rule in, no girlfriends.” 

A disgruntled murmur ran around the room, none of the men willing to vocalise how frustrated and angry they’d been since. 

Bucky slammed his palm onto the table and the room went quiet again, you jumped clinging to his calf, but remained where you were. 

“We brought the rule in, now we’re fixing it, but only if you're polite.” He growled.

“C’mon out, Bambi.” Steve and Bucky pushed their chairs back and Steve held out a hand to you, the ring on his pinky finger flashing in the afternoon light. 

Placing one hand slowly in front of the other you crawled out from underneath the table, one hand on Steve’s thigh, one on Bucky’s. The latter reached down, cupping your chin in his large, tattooed hand and pinched your cheeks. 

“Good girl, now say hello to the crew.” 

You turned, kneeling high enough that your head and shoulders peeked over the top of the walnut table, resting your chin on one hand you raised the other in a wave, “hello.” You whispered, nervously eyeing the array of men and women sitting around the long conference table.

You’d been worried ever since Cap’ and Sarge had informed you that your world would be expanding outside of their closed off penthouse, but now you felt that familiar throb of longing deep between your legs. They were handsome, your masters’ friends, so perhaps this wouldn’t be so awful after all. 

Bucky tucked a palm under your elbow and helped you stand, your feet wobbly after your time spent kneeling at his feet. Your heels tipped you forward slightly and you crossed your arms behind your back to steady yourself, pushing your chest out at the same time. A collective intake of air rippled around the room and, you supposed, that was to be expected given your scanty attire. 

Steve had wanted you to make a good impression and had chosen a soft pink babydoll with plenty of ribbons and bows. You certainly felt like a doll once they’d finished dressing you up but you loved it, loved that you didn’t have to make any decisions anymore. You let your wide eyes take in the room again, the hungry looks in everyone’s eyes. 

“Bambi, the family -” Steve gestured to the assembled group, “family, Bambi.” 

There was a chorus of replies, hellos and good mornings before the room went quiet again.

“Well, we don’t have much work to do today, so -” Bucky looked up at you, his hand on your hip protectively, “get to know everyone, okay. Take your time.” His smile was soft, but dropped from his face when he looked back at the rest of the family, “as for you, be polite.” Bucky glared around the room, “and remember to play nicely.” 

Vote on the next part HERE!

#Mafia AU #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #Loki #Natasha Romanoff #ari levinson #Nick Fowler #joaquin torres #Thor #Mickey Henry #Steven Grant #marc spector #jake lockley #Sam Wilson #Andy Barber #valkyrie #Jake Jensen #wanda maximoff #Frank Castle #Maria Hill #Kraven the Hunter #Colin Shea #Max Sharper

[binkszamsstuff]

Girl of my dreams

Arranged marriage au/ Mob au

Angst, cheating,smut, fluff, breeding kink, pregnancy, others but I'm tired and lazy also not edited/ proof read💀😬 18+,

Many times she thought of leaving, many ways to never look back. But the walls forbid it and so did her husband. Being married to a Mafia man was hard but there were harder things in life then to watch him cheat. An arranged marriage was what her parents thought would bloom into love only for heartbreak.

They never really loved, but they did fight constantly. He said she took away his freedom to fuck, she said he took away her freedom to love. Both were right, both were wrong. Until one night changed the two -almost as if sight had smacked them on their heads.

She walked into his office a red haired woman sat on his lap, she was dressed in fine clothes obviously a payment from him for her late night work. He had his reading glasses perched on his nose reading something on his computer, his left hand rubbing the woman's hip.

They didn't move an inch when y/n walked in, they didn't care who saw them together everyone knew they didn't want to be married, so what's the harm knowing he was in love with another woman.

"I'm leaving tonight, I have a gala. I'm taking Steve and the Mercedes goodbye" his wife said then walked out dismissively.

James had one job and that was to provide y/n with protection and to keep her married to him. James' father and hers only made this marriage for beneficial things, like money.

So y/n was required to take a bodyguard everywhere she went. James had just looked up from his computer to get the last glimpse of his wife in her tight fitting classy dress. Her hair blown out with volume and bounce, the dress she wore shaped her bottom perfectly. His eyes followed her out, his lips slightly parting,

"yes alright" was all he said.

The woman who sat on his lap was growing impatient. "Thank God she's gone! When will you finally get rid of her?" The woman asked.

"Never. You know this" he spoke illy towards her.

The woman scoffed. "But you love me, so why can't this be done? It's been three years and I'm tired of being the side piece. The villain, well people pity her. I'm the one who doesn't get the life she wants! I'm the one living, having to watch you be married to someone else."

"Natasha stop! I don't love her, I don't kiss her, or fuck her. I barely speak to the woman and when I do all we do is argue so please don't pull that on me." James was now rubbing his fingers on his forehead trying to relax the headache.

When the night was over, y/n and Steve came home giggling at the mischief they caused. James sat on the couch, his dark eyebrows drawn in a grim frown on his face.

"What are you two laughing about?" James spoke.

"n-nothing just something funny that happened at the gala" Steve brushed off.

"Was it y/n, that funny?" James spoke once again, his tone sounding hard, aggressive.

"yes it was"

"goodnight y/n, it was lovely spending time with you" Steve said kissing her check.

She blushed saying a shy "thank you Stevie"

Steve left leaving her and her husband alone.

"I'm going to bed, sweet dreams James" she spoke softly to him. She might not be his love but once at the beginning of their marriage she did love him. She tried to make it work but one day she had walked in the house after shopping for their one year anniversary only to be met with James and Natasha naked in front of the fire place having a romantic time.

Tears streamed down her face and all James did when he saw her was smirk. He hated her then, truly couldn't stand to be near her, that was two years ago now he almost wishes she was around more often. Now she was cold distant towards him, she only seemed to be the giddy, sweet, caring, and lovable girl she once was with Steve. She used to be that way with him.

That night James stayed up, sitting in his California king bed. Alone. The cold air seeped into the room from the open windows. He sat leaned up against the headboard, his journal in hand. Before James was forced into the mob by his father he dreamed of writing. As a young man, he would write stories of love, he was a hopeless romantic. He dreamt; of becoming a writer, finding the love of his life. But at the age of 21 his dreams were shot down.

Ever since he married his y/n, James' writings were surrounded by her. The love stories, no longer about the red haired woman -natasha. Every fantasy about what his life could have been was still filled with his wife.

Tonight he seemed to only be able to write her name. Endlessly.

Y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, Y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n -the woman who holds the embers of my heart. My wife.

The following week james watched y/n and Steve dance around the kitchen with old songs. How he purposely left his study door open so he could hear her; sing, talk to herself, laugh. It always brought a smile on his face. Things were changing in him.

James was not the only one to notice, Natasha did too. Whenever she came over James would hardly touch her, speak to her. Always bored 'wow's' 'oh's' and 'okay'.

To say she was mad was an under statement.

Natasha walked into the house with her keys in hand. Y/n was in her comfy home clothes doodling in her notebook, she sat perched in the kitchen window seat. Natasha rolled her eyes walking furiously towards James' study.

Natasha said with anger "What the hell is wrong with you?"

James did nothing, not even looking up from his computer.

"Natasha, please I'm working." He huffed out a sigh. Natasha was really making him lose his creative wind.

"No! You have barely talked to me! Touched me! What the hell is going on?" She demanded.

James stood up in a swift motion. His blue eyes now are hard and cold. Unforgiving.

"That's it! I can not do this nat! I loved you for a very long time natasha...but now I don't." Natasha gasped taking a step back.

"Nat I'm so sorry but we aren't good for each other anymore. You want to marry, I don't. You don't want children, I do. We fight more than we do anything else. I don't want to remember you like this so I'm asking you to leave. Please give me your key to my wife's and i's home." James now had a solemn expression on his face.

"This is about her uh? You told me you would never love her! It was supposed to be me!"

"Natasha I hope you find someone who will love forever, and I...was wrong..I think I've loved her since the first time I saw her." Natasha through her key at him and ran out of the house.

James was so stupid, If he could have realized that he did love y/n since he first saw her walking down the aisle. and to not let the betrayal for his father blind him so much he could hurt the woman he's loved since first sight. She was the woman he dreamed of all his life. Is it too late for him to wake up and fix his mess?

Y/n sat at the breakfast table alone watching out the window, her peaceful morning was dull until the chair in front of her scaped against the floor. Then groaning as James sat in it. A confused look came a upon her face he never sat with her at breakfast, she didn't even see him in the mornings.

"What are you doing?" She asked him quietly almost as if she was whispering to keep a secret.

"I'm having breakfast at my table, can I not do that?" He sassed back at her.

"y-yes you can, but I'm here." This time she spoke a little louder.

"so? Your my wife"

Y/n almost laughed outwards at him. "So? You hate me!" She chuckled while shaking her head.

"I don't hate you, y/n" she almost froze she had never really heard him say her name, he almost always referred her as 'she', 'her' and occasionally 'bitch'. The two are in silence, but not awkward, comfort. The pair really didn't know what to do with themselves, do they make small talk? No their married no married couple uses small talk, well they weren't in love, do they talk business? No y/n didn't work in the Mafia, do they argue? No nether wanted to end the softness. No they sat in slience. Until James remembered why he came to sit with her.

"your birthday is coming up, in what a week?" James said flatly.

"You know my birthday?" She said again in disbelief for the second time that morning.

James rolled his eyes "yes, of Crouse I do, what do you want?"

"Um ahh, you don't have to get me anything you haven't any of the other years it's alright" she said, she didn't mean to make him feel guilty but the way she said it's so nonchalantly, so casual. She was used to being nothing in his life.

"I want to give you something" he said still acting like this wasn't the most kindest he's ever been to her through out the three years of marriage.

"we'll make-up, or shoes," she said shyly.

"Your turning 21, what no booze?" He said amused.

"No I don't drink, even when I turn of age." He didn't know the reason why, and that bothered her.

"A-alright then shoes and make-up" he got up putting his plate away, James awkwardly straighted his suit jacket.

"goodbye y/n"

"goodbye James"

The next couple of days y/n and James would eat breakfast together, just sitting in comfortable silence.

The two would peak glances at each other.

The week past was a fun blur, between hanging out with friends, family, planning the party, y/n didn't have time to notice that Natasha was coming over less and less. She used to come over everyday, key and everything acting as if y/n's home was hers.

But now for the last month y/n was seeing none of her.

Y/n walked down the stairs her dress flowing down, fit for her like a glove. Everyone gasped, 'ohhed', and ahhhed' at her. James in particular was breathless, he hadn't ever felt this way towards her or any other woman.

Y/n said her hellos to her guests, family, friends, she made her way to the bar asking for a soda when a calloused hand splayed itself on her lower back.

"Y/n will you come with me?" James spoke lowly in her ear. She turned around shocked at how he was holding her so close.

"Why?' she asked flustered.

"because I need to speak to my wife" he said with a smug smirk.

He lead her to one of the bathroom on the main floor of their house. Once inside he closed the door behind him locking it.

"Why are we in here?" She asked curiously.

James said nothing only stepping towards her in one stride, his left hand snaking it's way around her waist the other holding the back of her neck/lower head. Her body pressed against his.

"I want you, i-im sorry I didn't treat you right when I got the first chance." James whispered to her, his lips hovering over hers. She wanted to beg him to kiss her, to take her, make their marriage more then an inconvenient. To finally reciprocate her love, for him to choose her.

"I want you to, but I'm not that easy. James Barnes we've been married for almost four years, I was 18 when we married and I wanted you so bad, I loved you more then anything but you chose her! You need to make it up, you've wasted a lot of time"

"I will, I promise but I can't keep watching you like you mean nothing. One kiss and I won't ask again until your ready please babydoll"

She smashed her lips Into his, she didn't do it for him begging (well a little bit) she did it for herself one taste then he had to prove himself. The kiss was soft, pleasing, longing, underlying love no longer hidden beneath the anger.

"I'll make it to you, doll and I will never hurt you again"

one year later....

"Oh good girl baby. Yeah you like when I fill you up?" James said as he pounded into her cunt. The two wrapped up in their soft bed sheets, y/n's legs wrapped around his waist. Her hands holding onto his upper arm.

"Yes daddy, I do! Please I want your cum!' she begged through the tears of pleasure.

"I'm gonna put a baby in you, fuck your gonna be the hotest mommy baby" his thrusts getting more sloppy as he neares him climax.

"I'm gonna cum James! Please I want your babies!" Y/n pleaded, James started to place kisses on her neck and shoulder.

"Oh yeah, cum all over daddies cock babydoll. Fuck I love you!' he growled into her shoulder as his white warm cum shot into her wet tight pussy.

'i love you too Jamie" y/n said dozing off, now James held her in his arms. He stared at her, how soft and delicate she looked. He loves her, her little giggles, the way she cuddles into him, how she cries and tries to beg him to let her adopt animal when the arms of the angel commercial comes on and now that she's pregnant she always ends up In tears.

James Buchanan Barnes loves y/n Barnes and nothing will change that. And their soon to be born daughter.

#bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #marvel #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshots #natasha marvel #mob au #mob!bucky #mafia bucky #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #james barnes x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #beefy bucky #bucky x you smut #marvel au

[delulu-with-wandanat]

ayo i have a request! platonic mob boss!natasha and single mother female reader! nat is a mob boss who is known to be heartless and merciless. reader is struggling financially and decides to take a loan from nat’s mob, which she can’t pay back. she’s taken by nat’s men and beaten, but then when nat sees reader out of place among the drug dealers and crackheads, she takes pity on reader, forgives her debt and protects her, as well as helping reader out financially. kinda like older sister protective vibes

THANK YOU I love all your writing!!

Alternative Proposition-

A/n: Awww thank you! I'm sorry this took a while, life finally catch up on me and I'm find myself writing less and less. I never actually dipped into mob au's beforee so, sorry if anything is out of place. I'm actually a little scared of posting this ngl- :')) I try to not give the daughter a name, only like a nickname so you can decide it for yourself. Anywayy, I hope you like it!!

Reader Description: She/her, single mother, mid 20s.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader (Platonic), Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff (Romantic).

Warnings 18+: Mature themes, mentions of drugs, violence, crimes, (idk what else i need to put tbh), threat, use of guns.

Summary: Struggling to take care her 5 year old daughter, Y/n took out a loan from the mob to start a small business in hopes that it would resolve their financial struggles. But small businesses takes time to flourish, which Y/n doesn't have and ends up biting her in the ass... or did it?

PUNCH!

Right on the stomach. The man tugged her from behind so she would stand up straight.

TWACK!

Christ, her nose was probably broken now. Perhaps she should've known better than to follow her friend's advice.

"Fucking bankers..." Y/n said out of frustration. Her appeal to take out a loan was rejected once again. At this rate she might have to finally settle for just working double time and barely making ends meet for her and her daughter. Suddenly, she hears her neighbor next door arguing and smashing god knows what.

For fuck sakes, again?

Gun shots can be heard from out the window, a few minutes later a police sirens follow through. The neighbor above blasting music and making noises on what could only be... something.

Her heart ached as he mind raced to the 5 year old sleeping in her room. No, she deserves a better life, a better living condition, a better future. She has to find a way, there has to be. The front door flew open and her friend walked in with a dopey smile.

"You look like you could use a happy sniff!" Y/n only rolled her eyes at her friend.

"I'm way past that, and you know it. Besides, those things are bad for you." Y/n responded without even looking.

Her friend plopped down beside her on the couch with an exaggerate groan. "You've gotten so boring since she was born. We used to have so much fun, no?"

"Grown out of it," She looks at her friend. "So should you."

Kate then rested her head on Y/n's shoulder, looking over her notes. "Bank denied you again?" She said almost mockingly with a pout.

"It's so stupid. I just need some cash to start this business, I did the numbers and the market is huge! Yet, none of them are willing to even listen at all..."

Kate then repositions herself to rest her head on the arms of the sofa. "You're asking the wronggg people." She giggled. Clearly high on drugs.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I know someone who could help you. Actually... I know someone who KNOWS someone. No questions asked, just gotta pay them back on time."

"No questions asked? Sorry, Kate, but that sounds really shady." Y/n is too tired to even listen to her.

"Give it a tryyyy. You're confident about your business?" Y/n nodded. "What's the worst that could happen?" Kate concluded. Perhaps she was right, that what it takes to start a successful business no? Take a risk-

TWACK!

Famous last words. She did in fact took out a pretty huge loan, and promised to pay once a month with interest. Very high interest. Even though Kate was right, they asked no question whatsoever, the risk was also extremely deadly-

SMACK!

-right on the jaw this time. "I was late, I'm sorry. Please I promise I will-"

TWACK!

"We've heard that excuse many times before." The man said with a thick Slavic accent. He grabbed a handful of her hair and tugged it harshly so she would face her. "And when you take out a money that big, the boss doesn't play around."

TWACK!

"Please..." The poor woman pleaded. "I swear-"

"Swear on your life? That is what we will take." Instead of a punch, the platinum haired man pulled out a gun, Y/n felt her stomach dropped the moment he pointed the gun to her head.

"Wait, wait!"

"Hold." She heard the other man who was holding her from behind spoke. "We're needed elsewhere."

"Now??"

"Just put the rat back in her cell, we'll deal with her and the rest later."

The blonde man hesitated for a few second before putting away his gun. He bent his body to her eye level and spoke, "You are one lucky son of a bitch."

Y/n was put back in the filthy place. Among with all the other hostages they have taken and beaten. She grunts at every single move she makes, every part of her body was extremely sore with the amount of punching she had endured.

The warehouse was dark, there was only one source of light, it was now probably almost midnight, fuck she needs to get home. She asked Kate to babysit her daughter, which was probably not the best course of action as Kate was quite a heavy drug user. But fuck she didn't have anyone to go to.

Kate will take care of her right? Well, she was... She wasn't addicted, but- Oh fuck her mind is running a mile minute.

She doesn't know how long time has passed as all she could think about was her daughter. Her sweet little bug. "Be safe, please, please be safe."

Oh god, what if Kate uses drugs in front of her? Come on, Kate was the one helping Y/n throughout the pregnancy, she would be more mature than that. Then again drug addicts are selfish- No, Kate is not like that. Kate adores Y/n's daughter, even going as far as supporting this business so the little bug would have a better future.

But what if Kate-

Y/n perked up at the sound of a door opening. Heavy sets of footsteps could be heard walking in her direction. "Cut the crackheads fingers as a warning, that oughta teach them." Y/n shivers at the woman's command. "Their debt remains, any late payments will be paid by their hand."

"What about the dealer?" Her men asked.

"Kill him, he went against our terms and conditions. Make him suffer." Y/n heard a unanimous 'Understood.' This woman definitely held a high power among all of them.

"And Stark's men?" Another one of her soldier asked. There was a beat of silence as the woman weighted her decision.

"Send him our... parcel. He'll understand." Whatever it is, Y/n is sure it's not what is implied.

She heard a few cells opening, some of the hostages cried and plead for their life. "I have nothing to do with this!" The man screamed. "It was Mr. Stark's order-"

"Stark and I, despite our rivalry, have mutual respect with each other." The powerful boss spoke again. "Though I won't be surprised if the orders did in fact came from him."

"Please..." The hostage started crying. "Please, I- I have kids-"

"And a wife?"

"Y-yes."

"Good. At least there's someone to take care of them." Fuck this woman is a sadist.

The poor man continued to thrash and screamed, yet he was no match in his condition and the strength of his taker. His screaming gradually disappears as they take him god knows where. And finally, the woman came into view as she stood just outside of her cell.

Y/n had pushed herself into a corner, hugging herself, knowing she would be next. And from what she has heard, there was no way of convincing a woman who holds such power and fear. Reality dawned on her that she had failed her daughter, her sweet 5 year old bundle of joy.

I'm sorry, bug...

The red headed woman studied the hostage before her. Seems like her men had taken her after she had finished her shift, Y/n was still wearing her waitress uniform.

"It's the one that took out the big loan." Another woman with blonde hair told the boss. Y/n notes she has a thick Russian accent.

"And?"

"She claims the purpose was to start a food and beverage business. Late payments, but I doubt the business even took place. I haven't seen or heard any new establishment in the area." The blonde woman explained.

The boss narrows her eyes. Y/n refused to speak or even look at them in the eye. As the red headed women was about to decide her fate, they heard a phone ring. Y/n's head turned to the source of the ringtone, it was her phone. "Shut that phone." She told her men.

"No wait!" All eyes turned to Y/n as the hostage finally spoke for the first time. "Please, that's mine. It might have something to do with my daughter..."

The goons gave the boss Y/n's phone. The woman looked at the caller id, "Kate."

"That's my friend, she's babysitting her. I just need to know if she's alright." The blonde and red haired woman shared a look, they've seen this before. Last act of desperation to seek help.

Finally, the boss bent down to her level beckoning Y/n to get closer from her position. Y/n hesitantly crawled closer so she was able to speak to the phone. Before the boss answered the phone, she looked at Y/n dead in the eye. "Any attempts, I will track this caller id. Understood?"

The boss didn't have to elaborate further, Y/n nodded while shivering in fear. The woman then accepted the call, and put it on speaker. "Mama??" A little girl's voice could be heard.

"Hey there, bug!" Y/n responded with fake enthusiasm. It was very convincing, even an adult wouldn't notice anything. "What are you doing up so late huh?"

"I'm waiting for you! You promised me movie night." The little girl said sadly.

"Awww, I know bug. Something came up at work, and I needed to work extra hours. But how about this, I'll make it up to you and we'll go somewhere special on your birthday, how does that sound?" Y/n spoke, her heart aching as she was making fake promises to her daughter. After all, the mob would most likely take her life.

"Yey!!! Aunty Kate, did you hear that?" It seems like the little girl was so happy at the idea. Y/n can imagine her daughter running to Kate in their tiny apartment excitedly to tell her the news. She then heard Kate responding as excitedly to the little girl. This is her chance.

No. She can't put her friend in danger. Even though that idiot gave her the stupid idea- No, I made the decision.

"Kate, it's already midnight. Can you make sure she sleeps please?"

"Aww, it's weekend! I'm sure she can stay up once a while with her aunty." Kate responded over the phone.

"I gotta go." Y/n said after noticing some of the goons growing impatient. "And Kate..."

There was a beat of silence, would she do it?

"Please remember to restraint yourself." Kate could be heard signing on the other side of the phone.

"You know I would never do that in front of bug. I promise, I'll take care of her. Just come home safe ok?" Kate understood Y/n's fear. And Kate knew better than to use drugs around children's proximity. In fact, she wasn't using the addictive substance as much as she used to... Only when she party that is-

"Of course. See you." The red haired woman then ended the call. She wasn't going to lie, she was quite impressed at this hostage. Perhaps this girl was something else...

-

Natasha came home way past midnight, it wasn't unusual for her of course. Though she does sometimes wishes to leave the crime life completely. Well, sometimes was an understatement, she wants to leave the crime life and focus on her own family. However, her sister was far from ready and there were numerous business she had to resolve first.

Then again, perhaps that was just an excuse. The cycle would never end. There's always something coming up, and she was the one the city held respect and fear for. By the end of the day, Natasha wasn't even sure if this life would leave her completely.

It was tied to her like an anchor.

She sighed and walked over to the master bedroom quitely. When she opens the door, she found her wife already fast asleep. She made her way to the bathroom, changed her clothes into something far more comfortable. She opted to skip her nighttime routine, and walked out of the bathroom.

Her wife had moved in her sleep, and it seems like she is awake. A small smile appeared on Natasha's face. "I didn't mean to wake you up." The mob boss said apologetically.

"The Americans would say, old habit dies hard." Wanda responded with a sleepy smile. Natasha soon joined her on the bed, giving her wife a loving kiss on her lips, and the slope of her nose. Despite being married for a couple of years, it warms Wanda's heart at Natasha's actions.

For someone who have gained the reputation of being merciless, she was so gentle on the people she loves.

"Everything alright, darling?" Wanda asked, she knew there was always something in this line of business. But really, what else was she supposed to ask?

"Same old, same old." Natasha answered as she settles on the bed next to her. Wanda then nuzzles onto Natasha like she always does every single night. "I'm getting too old for this."

Wanda chuckles, "Well, Yelena is next in line."

"Oh please, she her patience is as thin as a baby hair. She wouldn't last a 30 minute meeting." Natasha then starts to rub small circles on Wanda's back. "And you?"

"Just the usual, took the boys to school. They're already asking me if they could get their own car now that they're in middle school." Natasha let out a small chuckle.

"I hope they know they have save up their own money for that."

"I doubt it." The two women shared a laugh and fell into a comfortable silent. It was nights like these that Natasha adored. She may ruled the city, and had resources the average person can't imagine, but all she wanted was simple nights in the arms of the woman she loves.

Crazy to think how they met each other, all those years ago. When Natasha was only a second in command and Melina was ruling the mob, and Wanda was just a single mother trying to get by. Just like-

"Your thoughts are loud, detka." Wanda said, her wife truly knows her inside and out. "Care to share?"

Natasha lets out a sigh before continuing, "There was this girl, probably in her mid 20s." Wanda stayed silent, listening to her wife. "She reminds me of you..."

Wanda pulled away slowly to look at Natasha in the eye, "Natalia... If this is your way of asking us to open our marriage-"

"Excuse me, how did you even come to that conclusion?" God no, Natasha never even had that thought.

"Well when you start with that kind of sentence..." Natasha only rolled her eyes and pulled Wanda back into her arms.

"No, It's not that." She sighed, trying to find the right words. "I'm just..." She trails off once again. Wanda waited patiently for her wife to form her words, except Natasha ended up letting out a soft chuckle. "I think I'm just getting too old and too soft for this."

Wanda made herself more comfortable on Natasha's chest, listening to her heartbeat. Something she finds rather comforting. "You kept your heart. That is something I love the most about you." She shifted slightly so she could look at her wife in the eye. "But moreover I think that is something Melina would be so proud of..."

Natasha's heart warmed at Wanda's words. She pulled Wanda into a soft kiss, pouring the immense love she had for the woman before her. Natasha's hand gently cupped her wife's face, she held her ever so carefully as if Wanda was the most precious and delicate flower to ever exist.

--

Y/n waited, and waited.

She glanced at the clock, and then back to the front door. Still no one...

She heard a groan from Kate and looked at her friend/co-worker now. "Where are all the people..." She whined as she waited at one of the empty seats.

"It's ok. There's time like these, we just have to be patient." Y/n responded optimistically, even though deep inside she was screaming. The restaurant barely made enough to be self-sufficient. Despite it being small, and having herself as the staff with the occasional help of Kate, all of the profit had gone to running the business.

Moreover, she has to pay back the mob.

Fuck... "Kate, what day is it?"

Kate quickly checked her phone, "Friday. Why??"

Shit... shit, shit, shit. Her next payment was due tonight. She opened the register to check on the cash she had separated to make the payments. Y/n hastily re-counted the money and found that she was still $1000 short, "Fuck-"

"What's wrong?" Kate asked upon noticing her friend's frustration.

"Nothing..." Y/n sighed, no point in panicking now. She rubbed her temple and started giggling out of the immense frustration she was in. "Out of curiosity, is there a way to make $1000 in less than 6 hours?"

"We could always turn to crime."

"Few years ago I would've agreed, but I have a daughter to take care of." Calming herself down, she puts the money back and closed the cashier. "I need to pick up bug soon, you think you can manage on your own?"

"Don't underestimate me..." Y/n only gave Kate a look as she walks towards the cashier, "I will man the fort."

Y/n merely chuckles and took her bag, she gave Kate a quick hug. She has been such a great help, the definition of true friends lie on none other than Kate Bishop. "Thank you, I'll be quick!" Y/n said as she made her way out of the restaurant.

--

"-And I made a new friends!" The little one said as she held her mother's hand on the way to the shop.

"That's wonderful, bug!" Y/n responded as enthusiastically. Relief that her daughter was doing well on her first day of elementary school, not that she ever doubted her daughter's capability. In contrast to Y/n, her daughter was much more outgoing than she was when Y/n was younger.

"Maybe I can invite them to the restaurant!" Y/n chuckles at her statement.

"Well you know what? Tell them I will give their family a VIP service." The little bug scrunch up her nose in confusion, she look up to her mother.

"What's a VIP??" She asks, just before they entered the shop. Y/n bent down to her level with an adoring smile.

"VIP means, 'Very-Important-Person'. And because they're your friends. They're important, don't you think so?" The little girl nodded her head as her mother explained, "Meaning they'll get special treatments."

It was like a lightbulb switched on inside the little one's head. "Oh! I get it!!"

"My brightest star." Y/n said while ruffling her head, "Come on, let's head inside. Aunty Kate might need some back up."

The two entered the shop to find Kate talking to a customer. Oh thank god. Their back was facing Y/n, once Kate noticed Y/n she perked up. "Oh! Y/n, you're just in time. This is our owner, and the mastermind behind all these amazing dish!" Well, gotta give the enthusiasm to Kate.

The customer turned around and Y/n felt chills down her spine.

"So I see." The same powerful woman spoke. Y/n tensed up, but the little hand she was still holding kept her grounded. "Y/n, was it?"

"Y-yes." She cleared her throat. No, nononono, the payment was still in a few hours. Well, she was still short a $1000. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

The redhaired woman shifter her eyes downward to look at Y/n's daughter. "And who might you be?" She asked the little girl kindly. Was it genuine? Y/n doesn't even know.

"My mom and aunty calls me bug!" The girl said excitedly. "I like your hair."

The mob boss laughed, "Thank you! I like your little braid. Did your mother did that for you?" Oh well, she's surprisingly good with kids?? Such a stark contrast to the one Y/n met at the warehouse-

"Yeah!" The little girl giggled.

"I'm having trouble choosing something to eat. Since I have the owner and I'm assuming the chef, perhaps you could recommend me something?" The woman asked.

Y/n snapped back to reality, "U-uh, well... Our uhm the-" Speak, SPEAK, why am I so-

"Oh, oh!" Her daughter excitedly ran up to the dangerous boss, she went on her tiptoes to take the menu off the counter. "You should get this one! It's my favorite and my mom makes it the best."

"I will take your word for it." The woman said with a kind smile, she turns to Kate. "I'll take the recommendation from this little one. I'll sit in that corner."

"We'll be right with you, ma'am!" Kate said, obviously oblivious to who this woman is.

Fuck.

--

Y/n hand shook as she plated the food for the mafia boss, Kate noticed it and giggles. She clearly doesn't realize how bad the situation is.

"Hey relax, boss." She nudges her friend, Y/n only let out a nervous chuckle. "Alright, I'll take it from here." As Kate was about to take the plate to serve, Y/n stopped her.

"I got it, why don't you go stand by the cashier in case any more customers comes in." Thankfully for Y/n, Kate agreed and went back to her station. As much as she would like to avoid the mob boss at any cost, she doesn't want Kate to be involved further.

Y/n walks towards the table with food in hand, the woman was sitting by the corner looking out the window. Heart stammering in her chest as fear and anxiety tried to take over her body, what did this woman want?

"Your food, ma'am." Y/n sets the plate with shaky hands.

"Oh, thank you. It looks delicious." The redhead said turning to face Y/n with a smile. Just as Y/n was about to leave, the lady stopped her. "Hold on just a minute, I wouldn't mind the company of the owner herself. Take a seat." It sounded more like a demand than a request.

Y/n took a deep breath and sat across from her. The woman took a sip of her drink, still looking out the window. Maybe I should've poisoned her food or something-

"I believe I haven't introduced myself." The woman's voice took Y/n out of her trance. She looked up to see her staring back at her. "Natasha, pleasure to meet you under... better circumstances." Natasha offered her hand to shake.

Y/n reached out, hand still visibly shaking a little as she shook her hand. "Y/n, although I'm sure you knew that already."

Natasha only nod, she then picked up a fork and a knife and started eating her food. After the first bite, she lets out a soft laugh. "Your daughter wasn't lying when she said this was the best."

Y/n could only force a smile as multitude of things ran in her head. Was she here to execute her? Did she know that Y/n was still a few dollars short? Was this a genuine interest in her food or was she here for business?

"How's business so far?" There it is.

Y/n sighed and looked around at the empty restaurant. "We've had better days."

Natasha only raised an eyebrow as she continues eating her food. "So I see."

There was a few minutes of silence as Y/n waited for Natasha to speak further, however, it seems like the other woman was just simply enjoying her food.

"I have to say I am incredibly impressed with your cooking." She said as she wiped her lip with a napkin and set aside her cutleries.

"Thank you, I learned it from my mother."

Natasha nodded and fixed her posture as she set the plate to the side to rest her hand on the table. "I'm sure you know why I'm here. It's strictly business." Y/n took a deep breath, but before she could say anything Natasha cuts her off. "Although, seeing the state of your establishment, I'm assuming It's barely making anything to run itself."

"I- I promise you I can-" Y/n stammered.

"Oh don't make promises you can't keep, Y/n."

"This month's payment might be a lower but I swear it just takes-"

"I've thought so." Oh god, what has she gotten herself into. Her chest started to feel heavy, something felt like it was stuck on her throat. Y/n couldn't utter a single word. She was a dead woman...

"Which is why I would like to offer you an alternative proposition." Natasha as she leans back against the chair. Y/n who was still in the state of fear only looked at her. "I would like to turn your debts into an investment."

...I'm sorry, "W-what?"

"I would like to invest in your business instead, I see great potential. It should help lighten the burden." Whoa, what??

"I- What's the catch?" Natasha only laughs, not one of those evil laughs, just... laughed.

"I get 20% share of your profit, but to say that's a catch would be misleading as that is just the nature of investment."

Y/n thought for a moment, this wasn't so bad. No, actually it was great. Instead of having debts, she only need to pay Natasha a share of the profit that the restaurant made.

"That's... a very generous offer, Natasha. Thank you. Although, may I negotiate?" Natasha smirked slightly at the sentence and nodded, she liked this girl. Normally people would take the offer without any hesitation, so to have someone negotiates back was refreshing. "I think 20% is too high, how bout 10%?"

"Hmmm, that's too low for me. How about you and I meet in the middle, 15%?" Y/n nod and Natasha had a satisfied smile on her face. This time, it was Y/n who reached out her hand.

"We have a deal."

--

To say the mob boss was being generous was an understatement, but Y/n wasn't going to ask questions. It helped elevated the financial burden a little, as she did not have to pay a fixed price every month. If the business soars Natasha gets a good cut of the revenue, it it fails, well they fall together.

What's weird was Y/n had expected for there to be a catch, maybe even have Natasha suddenly barging in and run the business however she likes. Or making some sort of speakeasy underneath her restaurant, or anything crime related really. But she never did, in fact, Natasha became a regular at the restaurant. She comes by once or twice every week, one time she even comes with a lovely lady who Y/n quickly learned was her wife.

Natasha's wife, Wanda, was a truly lovely lady. Overtime, Wanda stops by more often on her own. Although truth to be told, Y/n had a feeling they adored her daughter the most as bug truly was the ray of sunshine in the restaurant.

Doorbell chimes through the restaurant, the little bug excitedly dings the bell on the cashier counter top informing the kitchen of an incoming order.

"Ms. Wanda's specials!" The little girl said loudly, causing Wanda to giggle slightly at the scene. Y/n comes out of the kitchen door to greet her as she was in the middle of cleaning up.

"Wanda, good to see you again! Your usual?"

Wanda smiled and nodded. "For me, as always. Another one of the same for my wife, and 2 dish of your recommendation for my boys please."

"Anything in particular?" Y/n asked.

Wanda hummed for a moment, before glancing at Y/n's daughter who's practically bouncing on her little feet to make the decision for her. She then smiles and said, "I'll let the little chef surprise me."

Bug beamed upon hearing her sentence, Y/n smiled at her daughter and gave her an encouraging nod. She pulled down her mother to her level and whispered her recommendation. Y/n then pulled away and playfully gave her a salute, "Right on it, chef!"

As Y/n was walking back to the kitchen she heard her daughter yelling, "And be quick, it's for our VIP!"

She was glad her daughter seems to make the restaurant her own little playground, most of the costumers adored her too whenever bug was around. She wishes that her daughter could go out more often and wasn't forced to be stuck in the restaurant as much as she is now.

As time goes by the restaurant started to gain more and more exposures around the neighborhood and Kate has been a big help through it all. Arguably it was good for her too, as she used her spare time to work instead of partying and doing drugs.

Many more months have passed, and their popularity continues to rise and rise to the point where Y/n NEEDED to hire a cook helper and a waitress. She was grateful to say the least, but she wonders if the mob boss had something to do with it.

Y/n noticed that she had seen one of the customers being the one that kidnapped her, she was terrified for a minute only for the same platinum haired man to apologize and leave her with a huge, and I mean HUGE tip. She found out that his name was Pietro and he was surprisingly a funny, cocky, yet quite the gentleman.

The other one was the blonde woman that stood next to Natasha. However, at that time she was rather busy in the kitchen so Kate was the one who interacted with her the most. She didn't learn much about the blonde woman, only that her name was Yelena and that Kate seems to have a big crush on her.

She starts to wonder if half of her customers were affiliated with Natasha's mob. There were times when Natasha came by with a group of people, was it for a business meeting or whatnot she doesn't know. She doesn't even want to know. One thing for sure, Y/n's perception of Natasha changed. The initial impression of Natasha being a cold, heartless, merciless woman was gone, it turns out Natasha has a heart of gold.

From spreading the word about her restaurant, to giving huge tips every time she eats, refusing on-the-house meals and paying more than what her bill stated. To even, at least to Y/n's assumption, keeping the area of her restaurant safe. It wasn't confirmed by any means, but Y/n had a gut feeling Natasha had something to do with it.

--

All in all, business was great and was making enough for her to profit from it as well. She can now take her daughter out occasionally and not having to worry about starving herself in process.

Today was rather slow than usual, thank god...

She probably shouldn't as a business owner, but damn girl needs a room to breathe sometimes. Calm before the storm they said, and Y/n was going to use it to her advantage and catch up on her book as she waits for the next customer.

A good few minutes into her book, the door bell rings. Y/n looks up and put on her smile at the customer. Kate called in sick today and their waitress was having a day off, so Y/n had to cover both for both. "Welcome! What can I do for you on this fine day?"

"Hi there." The woman with a black hair said with a kind smile. "I heard this was the new hotspot in town. What would you recommend me?"

"Well that depends, are we looking for somethings sweet or savory?"

"Hmmm...." The woman scanned the menu quickly. Finally she looked up and said, "I'm feeling adventurous, surprise me."

Y/n smiled, "Take a seat anywhere you like, I'll be right with you." The customer thanked her and sat by the corner. From the corner of her eye, she could she the woman seems to be observing the restaurant. It wasn't weird by any means, maybe she's just one of those food bloggers.

Nah, she's dressed so formal to be a food blogger. Oh, shit... is that a food critique? We'll let's impress her.

After a few minutes, Y/n goes to her table. "This is one of our favorites." She said as she set the plate on the table, "And this is a complimentary drink, it's on the house."

"That's very kind of you." The black haired woman said. "Say how long has this place been established?"

"Oh we've just opened a couple of months ago."

"The owner certainly has an exquisite design taste." Y/n smiled at the compliment.

"Thank you! It was highly inspired by my heritage." The woman raised her eyebrow.

"I take it you are the owner?" Y/n nodded. "Wow! Congratulations on your business! The food looks amazing, please, would you mind joining me? I would love to listen more to your stories."

"Certainly!" Y/n took a seat in front of her, she was used to this, sitting and talking to different customers. It helps build relationship and making them a regular. "Are you new around this area?"

The woman chuckles, "No, I know this city like the back of my hand. My name is Maria Hill, pleasure to meet you." Maria offered her hand to shake.

"Likewise, I'm Y/n." The two shook hands and Maria leaned back on her seat.

"I'm guessing you're not originally from here?"

"No, my family and I migrated to the US when I was younger." Maria hummed again as she stared Y/n down, honestly Y/n was feeling rather uncomfortable. It was like she was... observing her, maybe even assessing her?

One thing for sure, Y/n was starting to get really bad vibes.

Maria suddenly let's out a small laugh, "Perhaps I should be more frontal." She fixed her posture and leaned her elbows on the table. "I was going to ask you sooner or later."

Oh god, what is it? Am I getting deported??

"Are you aware of an individual named Natalia Alianovna Romanova?"

Y/n twisted her head in confusion. "No, that doesn't seem to ring a bell."

"What about Natasha Romanoff?" The woman continued to prod. Well, she only knows one Natasha, she's a-

"I'm sorry, I just-" Y/n was confused, "What is this all about? Are you a health inspector or an immigration officer because-"

Maria raised her hand to stop Y/n, "No, neither of those." Y/n raised an eyebrow. "I'm an FBI agent."

Oh...

"I've been investigating an organized crime for the past few years."

Oh, fuck.

"You're not in trouble, Y/n. I merely require your assistance."

This isn't fucking calm before the storm-

"So are you or are you not," Maria took out a picture, a photograph of Natasha walking out of HER restaurant. "acquainted with this individual."

This is calm before a fucking typhoon. And she is in the middle of it.

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[jtargaryen18]

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 24

Part 24: Revelations

Series Masterlist

Words: 4.2k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mob crime families, activities, domestic violence, and infidelity. Graphic violence, threats, and intimidation. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

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

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

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

The soldier that greeted them on arrival was one of Steve’s. They all were. But many of them had worked for Banner for a few years now and he didn’t see them often. Bruce was always called to his house.

Whoever the guard was didn’t have the best poker face. Maybe the concern that he didn’t conceal before Steve saw it was because Clint was there at Bruce Banner’s home. Maybe it was because it was a rare occasion that even brought Steve there to begin with.

A nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered maybe that was part of the problem.

“Can I help you, sir?” the man asked when Steve powered his window down.

Steve nodded. “I’m here to see my sister.”

The man nodded, hesitated.

“Is there a problem?” Steve wanted to know.

“No, sir.”

Clint parked the Jeep right there in front of the manor, shut off the engine.

“What’re you doing?” Dyson grumbled from the front passenger seat.

“I’m going,” Clint to told them in no uncertain terms.

Something was very off. Steve felt it in his gut. His gaze met Clint’s in the rearview mirror. He nodded his approval. Dyson’s deep sigh was his only answer to that.

The three of them climbed out of the Jeep, made their way to the front door of Banner’s home. Another soldier greeted them, looking as concerned as the first.

A familiar maid approached them from within the house. The older lady’s red hair was a shade lighter than Nat’s, her pale hands wringing in front of her. Her gaze was locked on Steve, and she motioned for him to follow.

“Let’s me and you stay here,” Dyson said meaningfully to Clint.

Steve nodded his agreement before following the maid into the house. When she passed the door of the bedroom his sister shared with her husband, Steve paused. The maid didn’t stop, leading him instead to a guest room in another wing.

His anxiety rose when the woman opened the door and led him in. What was Nat doing in there?

She left Steve standing in that bedroom as she dashed to the bathroom door. He heard his sister’s murmured voice, the sound of splashing water. It sounded like Nat had been taking a bath.

His heart sped up to see the maid walking his sister out of the bathroom, looking small in that dark green bathrobe. Nat was slumped into the woman’s side, her gait unsteady.

What the fuck had Banner done?

The woman helped Nat take a seat on the end of the bed. When she moved to get comfortable, the part in the robe showed him a deep, ugly bruise on her thigh. Smaller bruises decorated her calf, the pattern suggested someone had grabbed that leg hard.

His fists clenched in the pockets of his overcoat.

His sister didn’t immediately notice him. When she did, her green eyes widened in fear. Tears pooled there and her lower lips trembled as she whispered, “Steve, I’m sorry.”

Steve’s heart cracked as he joined her on the bed, pulling her against him. His sister’s arms slid around him, and she burrowed into him, the tears coming on. He held her, cursing himself to hell and back for not coming sooner.

“Hey,” he said after a few minutes.

There were no marks on her face, and it was telling. Pattern abusers tended to hide their handiwork. The way she moved. Pain.

“I fought with him,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have kept it going… I shouldn’t have…”

She was shaking her head, her body was shaking just talking about it, and Steve stopped her with a hand on her cheek.

“It’s okay,” he promised her, battling back the storm of guilt and anger building inside his chest. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t mean…”

To her maid, Steve said, “Can we get her dressed? Something comfortable and warm.”

Nat shook her head, fear in her face. “I can’t. I—”

“You can’t walk out of here in your bathrobe,” he said gently. “You’re coming home with me.”

The maid’s expression was approval, and she sprang into motion, finding a pair of flannel pajamas. When he got up so the maid could help her get dressed, Nat grabbed his arm. Panic lit up her eyes.

“I’m not leaving you,” he promised her. And he didn’t. He stayed there in the room with his back turned, pulling out his phone to find a text from Dyson.

Dyson: She ok, boss?

Steve couldn’t even type right now. His hands were shaking. It was all he could do to stay calm, but he could do it for his sister. He could keep control until he got her home, ensured she was safe.

When the maid let him know she was dressed, he turned to find Nat wearing the pajamas beneath the coat. Thick socks and bed slippers covered her feet.

Steve shook his head. While nothing appeared to be broken, it would be easy to assume that her injuries weren’t as bad as that other incident, Nat seemed frail, defeated. That more than anything tore at his heart. The maid eased her forward a step, but Steve shook his head.

Scooping her up, Steve carried his sister out of the room, back for the front door. Anger at himself for not paying more attention preyed on his mind as he made his way through the house. He’d been so focused on taking the lead he’d lost track of everything else. Even his own family.

Why hadn’t he listened to Dyson? To his wife?

Steve didn’t know yet just how far Banner had gone. He just knew he’d fucking deal with the bastard.

If his wife didn’t get to him first.

“Oh, God,” Clint whispered when Steve reached him and Dyson. So much emotion flashed in his man’s blue eyes when his gaze landed on Nat.

Dyson’s gaze mirrored the anger Steve felt. “Let’s go.”

With no interference from the men guarding Banner’s house, Steve carried her out into the cold Boston morning.  

“Steve, thank you,” she whispered, and the words nearly broke him.

“Hush,” he soothed her. “We’re going to take care of you.”

“He’s so angry,” she went on as Clint pulled open the door.

“So am I,” Steve assured her.

Clint helped Steve get Nat in the back of the Jeep, his heart in his eyes as he took in the broken figure of the woman he loved. It had Steve feeling like an even bigger asshole. The man loved his sister. The way he handled her like she as precious was all Steve saw. The hope Clint’s presence put on Nat’s face nearly brought him to tears.

“Stay back here with her,” Steve bid him.

Nat curled around Clint in the back of the Jeep as Steve shut the door, taking shotgun. Dyson had already climbed into the driver’s seat. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

“Get us home,” Steve ordered, nearly choking on his rage as Dyson started the Jeep.

***

You had just taken Yelena’s tray back to the kitchen when you heard the commotion. Yelling.

What was this?

Steve had taken Dyson and Clint to go check on Nat and you’d been waiting for them to return. You were hoping Nat was okay and that whatever infamous fight she’d had with her husband hadn’t resulted in her being hurt or…

You could make out an angry male voice towards the front of house. You didn’t think it was Steve and you braced yourself. Was Steve upset with Nat? Had trouble started?

Luca had gone on a grocery run so the kitchen was empty. With a sigh, you set the tray down on the counter and headed in that direction to see what was going on.

The person yelling in your living room was not who you expected. Bruce Banner’s expression was pure rage and color darkened his face. Neal stood in front of him speaking but so quietly you couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“No!” Bruce shouted. “The fucker is on his way here with my wife, right? I’m waiting right fucking here.”

You didn’t know if your husband or Clint was the fucker in question, but one hell of a fight was brewing. You didn’t trust Neal any further than you could throw him.

You’d taken exactly one step in that direction when someone else stepped in your path. Scott held up a hand to pause you.

“Mrs. Rogers, it might be best if you went back upstairs. Stay with Belova,” he said carefully. “It might get ugly down here.”

Scott was a good man and you trusted him. But no way you were sitting this one out.

“I’m sure it would,” you told him. “But no, I’m not doing that.”

The soldier sighed deeply. “Yeah, I didn’t think you would. Just… stay behind me, okay?”

You nodded, following Scott into the living room where Banner looked ready to implode at any moment. When his gaze moved past Neal to you, Steve’s other soldier spun around to see you coming. Neal rolled his eyes.

“Mrs. Rogers, you got no business being here,” Neal said curtly.

“My brother-in-law is here,” you were equally short. “I think I do.”

To Bruce you asked, “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” Bruce was incredulous. “Your fucking husband just showed up at my house, with Clint fucking Barton, and took my wife while I was gone. Took her right the fuck out of there. He had no right. No right!”

Neal stepped away, pulling out his phone and typing furiously. You darted around Scott and took Neal’s place in front of Banner. Scott stayed close.

“That doesn’t sound like something Steve would do.” It really didn’t. “Not without cause.”

“Cause?” Banner ranted. “Let’s talk about cause. My wife, his sister, is making a fucking fool out of me! With Barton. Everyone knows that. We ended up in a fight. It’s between us. Our fight. Our marriage.”

You held his gaze, staring him down. The anger he displayed on the surface was just a mask you realized, a façade to hide his insecurities, his hurt. His cowardice.

“That’s why you fought?” you asked.

“Isn’t that what I just said?” Bruce asked loudly.

“He’s on his way back here,” Neal announced, reading his phone.

“He fucking well better be,” Banner muttered. “And my wife better be with him. He needs to explain himself. He had no right.”

“Didn’t he?” you asked, studying him. “Steve is your boss. He doesn’t owe you an explanation for anything. And Nat is his sister, his blood. He has a right to be concerned about her welfare.”

“Oh, she’s well,” he went on. “Well enough to step out on me. In my own fucking house. In my own fucking bed! Do you know how bad that looks for someone in my position? And everyone has a problem with me?”

“You’re very defensive right now,” you pointed out.

“You fucking would be too,” Bruce told you angrily. “You will be. Once the newness wears off, Steve will do it to you too. Then you come back here and fucking lecture me about being defensive!”

“We’ll see.” You were going to react to that. It might have been a fear you harbored but you weren’t about to give him that. “I know that’s what your girlfriend and her sister would like to believe.”

The shock that you brought that up faded from his expression fast. More color seeped up from his collar.

“If Nat had been my loyal, loving wife,” Bruce bit out, “I wouldn’t ever have given Paulina a second glance. I’m not like that. I’m not like your husband. That’s what makes this so goddamn funny. He has a lot of nerve jumping into my business when he’s just like his sister. Disloyal whores. Both of them!”

The inference that your husband would cheat, or had cheated, pissed you off. It was meant to. It was all you could not to take the bait as your anger rose.

Neal stood by passively, watching and listening. Wasn’t he supposed to be protecting you?

Scott’s hand on your shoulder was calm. “Okay, the boss will be here any minute. Why don’t you head upstairs, ma’am?”

Scott tried. You were aware of it and appreciated it on some level.

“No, I’ll wait here,” you told him, not taking your eyes off Bruce. “And I’ll tell you something, Bruce.” You pitched your voice low, spoke slowly through your fury. “It’s better to be a whore than abusive. What did you do to Nat?”

“She had it coming!” Bruce yelled. “She hasn’t even begun to get what she deserved. And if Steve was smart, he’d reign you in the same way.”

“That’s enough,” Scott said, trying to pull you back from the confrontation.

“Excuse me?” You were livid.

“You heard me.” Bruce grinned, pleased at your reaction.

Scott pulled you back a step. Taking a menacing step closer to you, Bruce pointed a finger.

“Wait. Did you put him up to this?” Bruce demanded. “You and Nat talk, right? I know all about you helping her go see Barton at the hospital. Did you do this? Did you?”

As much as you’d like to take credit for making Steve think about his sister’s welfare, you couldn’t. Slowly, you shook your head.

“I don’t fucking believe you!” Bruce yelled.

Like a vision from a nightmare, Bruce lifted a hand. You saw it coming. Someone blocked the blow before it could reach you as Scott yanked you sharply back. Quicker than you could think, Yelena had grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm behind his back until he yelled furiously.

A beat later, the front door burst open, and your husband marched from the foyer into the living room to take in the scene. His blue-eyed gaze moved over you frantically. Once he realized you weren’t hurt, he looked to Bruce, fists clenched at his sides.

Only then did Neal move to assist Yelena but she glared at him as she kept Bruce in what looked like a painful grip.

“I’ve got it,” she told him flatly.

“Hold him,” Steve bid her.

Yelena did more than that even though it was obvious she wasn’t feeling well. Kicking the backs of his knees, she took Bruce down to his in front of Steve. And if you thought Bruce looked angry? The anger that appeared to be consuming your husband far eclipsed it.

“You fucking threaten my wife?” Steve demanded, crouching to get in Bruce’s face. “In my home? How fucking dare you? Especially after what you did my sister.”

Bruce looked concerned about his current situation but apparently wasn’t smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

“Your sister has been sleeping around on me,” Bruce managed through the obvious pain as Yelena held him. “And you bring the whore’s boyfriend to my house? And drag her out like you’re a fucking hero?”

Grabbing a handful of Bruce’s salt and pepper curls, Steve held his head still with one hand and punched him in the face hard with the other. Then he did it again and again as you watched. Blood ran from Bruce’s nose from the blows

Dyson rushed towards you at that. “You don’t need to be down here seeing this,” he told you.

You resisted his attempts to pull you away. “I want to see this.”

“Nat needs you,” Steve said without taking his eyes off the man at the center of his fury. “Neal, Belova, let’s take this somewhere else.”

“Fuck you!” Bruce yelled as Yelena started moving him to the front door and Neal finally moved to help deal with your irate brother-in-law. “Fuck you, your whore sister, and your fucking whore wife!”

They were dragging him off. Dyson and Scott each had a hold on you, trying to pull you away from the scene.

You’d never seen Steve so upset. But before he rushed off after them, he stopped and took your face in his shaking hands.

“I want to watch,” you let him know forcefully.

“I know,” he told you in a barely controlled voice. “But Luca’s helping Clint bring Nat in through the kitchen. I really don’t want her to see or hear any of this. I need you to look after her. For me.”

Getting a grip on your anger, you nodded. You didn’t know what happened to Nat but apparently it was serious. If she needed you, you’d be there.

“Lang, stay here,” Steve ordered.

“You’ve got it, boss.”

Before Steve could release your face, you told him, “Fuck him up.”

Letting go of you, your husband nodded before he spun around and headed back the way he came to deal with his brother-in-law, his own lawyer.

“Come on,” Dyson drew your attention away from that to lead you back into the house with Scott on your heels.

You followed him up the stairs, to Nat’s old bedroom. When Dyson opened the door for you, it revealed Nat on her old bed with Clint positioning pillows behind her. Luca was heading for the door, looking as distraught as you felt.

“I’m getting doc over here,” Luca told you, rushing by.

Sitting by her on the bed, Clint took one of her hands. When they both noticed you, they shared the same look of apprehension. You took a seat on her other side.

“Nat, what happened?” you wanted to know.

Your sister-in-law looked curled in on herself and weak. Still, she tried to smile even with tears coming on.

“Bruce is here, isn’t he?” she asked fearfully.

Looking from her to Clint, you nodded. “Steve’s dealing with him.”

Clint shook his head.

“She’s not going back to him,” he told you, blinking back tears. “I don’t care what has to happen.”

“No, she won’t,” you told him with the same determination. Your heart went out to him. He’d stayed loyal to Steve, even when he’d married his sister to another man. Even though you knew it wasn’t the first time Nat had endured something like this.

“Bruce will calm down,” Nat explained fearfully. “He’ll convince Steve it was m-my fault. He’ll… send me back. He’ll…”

“He will not,” you promised her. “You are never going back to him.”

“You can’t guarantee that,” Clint told you meaningfully.

“The hell I can’t.” If your husband even thought about sending his sister back to the monster he’d married her to, you make him regret it every single day for the rest of his life.

But somehow, you didn’t think you had anything to worry about. You hadn’t had a chance to talk to Steve yet with everything going on. But instinct told you Steve had finally realized the truth of his sister’s situation.

“Luca’s calling our doctor,” you told them. “How badly are you hurt?”

It was hard to keep calm as you watched her shaking hands reach for the hem of her flannel pajama top. She’d barely lifted it when you saw the cluster of wild purple bruises covering her ribs and abdomen.

“Fuck,” Clint muttered, blinking back tears. “That fucking bastard. I’ll kill him. I swear…”

You understood. You wanted to kill him too. But right now, Nat was more important.

Gently easing her top back down, your hand covered hers.

“Don’t worry about all this now,” you said as soothingly as you could. “You’re safe.”

“But Steve…”

“Steve brought you home,” you said with feeling. “You’ll recover here, and you’ll be with Clint where you should have been all along. That’s all you need to be concerned with right now.”

Clint clasped her other hand. The look that passed between them nearly broke your heart. Hope.

You swore to yourself at that moment that they would be together.

***

You found Steve later in his study. His elbows were planted on the desk, his head in his hands. An empty glass was on the desk next to him.

You closed the study door behind you. His black robe was warm over your own pajamas as you walked to his desk, capturing his attention.

Your husband looked tired, and you noticed his knuckles were cut and scabbed over. Lowering his hands to the desk, he sighed.

“How is she?” he asked quietly.

“Six broken ribs,” you told him. “So many bruises… Doc gave her something for the pain. He’s coming back to check on her tomorrow.”

Nodding, Steve motioned you over to him, pulled you onto his lap when you made it around the desk.

“How is he?” you wanted to know.

“Pretty fucking sorry,” Steve told you, tracing a finger down your cheek. “He lost everything today. His position, his wife…”

You knew your surprise showed on your face. “Did he?”

Steve nodded. “He’s lucky I let him live. If I ever see him again, he won’t be. After what he did to her. After all the lies he told me.”

He meant it, you could tell. So much pain and regret in his face, his eyes. Your heart swelled with hope as you sat in the quiet of his office, letting him hold you.

“What happens now?” you wondered. “Nat is so afraid you’ll send her back to him.”

Steve shook his head. It was a long moment before he spoke. When he did, he didn’t meet your gaze.

“I let her down,” he said quietly. “For the last few years, I’ve been so focused on what I wanted… I didn’t pay enough attention to anything else.” When his gaze met yours, the raw guilt made you flinch. “What if he’d killed her? What he did was bad enough but…”

“It was bad.” You slid your fingers through his hair. “But she’ll recover. If you let her have what she’s always wanted, she’ll recover faster.”

“You know why I did that,” your husband told you. “Clint is still a soldier.”

“Then make him something else,” you said more forcefully than you intended. “Hasn’t he proven himself? To her and to you?”

“Dyson thinks so too.” Steve sighed. “The problem is… Maybe I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I’ve done everything to take your father’s place. To take the lead and now…”

You just waited, listened.

“Now here I am. I married my sister to an abusive asshole. My people and turf are under siege. My own home was attacked, and my wife had to shoot someone to defend it… Right now, I have to accept that I’m failing. I’m not your father. I don’t have his instincts… I don’t.”

It was the last thing you would have expected your husband to say. You know exactly how hard he’d worked to be where he was.

But knowing that underneath it all he cared? Your heart clenched.

“Maybe my father had good instincts for this, Steve,” you said slowly. “But he didn’t run the families alone. And you’re not alone either.”

“I’m not.” His gaze locked with yours. “But my heart really can’t take you being in the line of fire, sweetheart. Last night you shot Hansen today you’re squaring up to Banner. This is serious. I can’t worry about you being hurt…”

“I was looked after,” you told him, raising your chin.

“Belova has some skills,” Steve admitted. “She showed me that today. But I need to keep you safe, and I need you to accept that.”

“Maybe I’d be more accepting of that if you’d listen to me once in a while,” you countered. “I was right about Nat’s situation. Dyson and Luca think I have my father’s instincts.”

Steve studied you so seriously. “Maybe they’re right… Doesn’t mean I want you to continue training with weapons.”

Yeah, you realized that cat was out of the bag. As long as that was all he knew…  

“We’ll figure it all out,” he assured you. “Thank you for taking care of Nat. She and I will talk tomorrow when she's rested.”

Capturing his hand, you pressed kisses on his injured knuckles. You had to wonder what Bruce looked like now from the looks of that.

“You should rest,” you whispered. “Come to bed.”

A corner of Steve’s mouth tipped up at that. “What’s this? My wife finally approving of how I handled a situation?”

“I don’t know enough details to say I approve yet,” you informed him, and he smiled. “Let’s rest. I’m sure you have a lot to deal with tomorrow.”

Steve nodded. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to yours. The brush of them was soft, soothing.

@valsworldofcreativity

@21stcenturywitchcraft @coconutqueen21 @buckybarnesplumwhorere @bval-11 @caffiend-queenend-queen @candy-and-writing @capsicle-shield @chaoticfiretaconerd @chrisevansgirl @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @coldmuffinbanditshoe @daughterofthenight117 @hv-chw3 @iheartsebastianstanstuff @imanuglywombat @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @justrae9903 @lok1sgrl @lokislastlove @mariaenchanted @marvelouspottering @maxwelllee2020 @nannies-dont-date @nekoannie-chan @nerdwholikesword @notyourtypicalrose @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @peaceinourtime82 @rainbowkisses31 @rayofdawnworld @richonne4life @rissysthoughts-blog @saiyanprincessswanie @scarletsoldier21-blog @shygirl-000 @supernaturaldean677 @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @team-iron-wannabe-man @titty-teetee @tonib666 @villanellevi @vitamingummies @weebid @what-is-your-plan-today @what-is-your-wish @xoxabs88xox @rosalynshields @naturalthrone22 @marvelovernfan @gotnofucks

#Hia Inheritance #Mafia au #Steve Rogers #Natasha Banner #Bruce Banner #Yelena Belova #Scott Lang #Clint Barton

[abbatoirablaze]

Deal With The Devil Master List

The five boroughs in New York City are run by the five families.

Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Thor Odinson, Clint Barton, and the most dangerous of all, Steve Rogers.

But that's just where the story begins.

With Steve Rogers. The loud-mouthed kid who's charming, witty, and beyond manipulative.

He knows just how to get what he wants. And after hearing about the newest reason that the boroughs are up in arms, he wants his cut.

Inez Stark.

No one knew that Tony had a younger sister, That is, not until someone from his inner circle let it slip.

Peter's out, because he's Pepper's cousin.

And with Steve, Thor, and Clint all vying for the chance to get into the alliance between Peter and Tony, they all want her hand in marriage.

Only, Tony knows that.

He also knows that he can't protect his baby sister anymore. He has to make a deal with the devil.

Too bad Steve's number 2, Bucky Barnes fell in love with her first.

Chapters

The Hobbit

Negotiations

Expectations

Fiances

The Bachelor Party

Like A Dog

What Family Is For

Know Your Place

Blindfolded

Cuck

The Meaning Behind 'I Do'

Sex On The Beach, And Blitzed On A Binge

Stay

#marvel au #marvel #the avengers #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #tony stark #deal with the devil #steve rogers smut #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #ironman #thor odinson #thor #clint barton #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #peter parker #pepper potts #mob au #mafia au

[cr--books]

Chapter Two

Content warning: mommy kink, mention of being sold for sex, Macdonalds (it made me want maccies) innocent reader, shitty mom, angry nat, implied torture

Nat's POV

I drove me and my new baby home, my hand resting on her thigh rubbing circles, I felt small patterns on my hand and smirked slightly as her innocent little smile watched her fingers draw little shapes

"You okay baby" her head lifted and she smiled nodding at me with the same innocent smile, it was so cute

"Is my baby hunger we can stop to get you food" I smiled back at her watching as her eyes filled with confusion

"I already had food today I have to wait till tomorrow" she whispered, her finger never stopping tracing the patterns, I bite my tongue my grip on the steering wheel tightening, i wanted to turn around and kill her mother myself but I wanted to look after her first

"Baby your with mommy now you can eat whenever you wish" she cocked her head to the side and I felt myself getting wet from the cuteness

"Have you ever had ice cream" I smirked and nodded, when she pouted I had to stop myself from bending her over here and now, "can we get Icecream I've always wanted to try it" she bounced in her seat causing my hand to slide up a bit further

"Yes princess, I know the perfect place" She smiled and giggled

_______

"Welcome to macdonalds what can I get you" the mans voice called through

"Can I get two vanilla ice creams and a orange juice with a kids chicken nugget happy meal" I leaned out of my window

"That'll be £6.47 go to the first window to pay" the man sounded like he wanted to jump off a cliff, I couldn't blame him little kids were quite annoying

I picked up the food and drove home, y/n eating her fries quietly, a small grin on her face, as we got to my home I tapped my card on the security desk before the gates opened, I pulled up

Hopping out of the car, opening the door for y/n and taking her seatbelt off for her, she gripped my hand

"You have a really pretty home" she whispered into my ear, her hand never leaving mine, "how do you keep a house this big so clean" her eyes widened as she glanced around the room

"I hire people and pay them a hefty amount" she furrowed her eyebrows again

"But mother never paid me to clean" I bite my lip in order to stop myself from going back to her home

"Baby, mommy's gonna call thor, can you be a good girl and sit at the table" she nodded and walked over to the table

I sighed before getting my phone out calling thor, "yes boss?"

"Is the whore dead" my tone was harsh and I made sure, my new innocent dove hadn't heard, she hadn't

"No, boss, crying a lot, the husbands awake and not actually her husband, its lucky we got there when we did, y/n was about to be sold to a 65 year old man for sex" my nails dug into my thigh

"I want every man on that list tracked down and killed and bring them two to the basement, I'll deal with them"

Oh I'll deal with them

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #masterlist #natasha x you #reading #marvel #smut #natasha x y/n #mafianat #mafia #natasha natasha romanoff smut #natasha mafia #death #mommy

[unholyhelbig]

request: oversight au, nat and reader run into reader’s ex or ronnie’s father who was abusive to them… how will mob nat react?

Title: Old Flames [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: When reader has an unexpected run-in with an old flame and things go less than well, Natasha takes things into her own hands.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): Talks of past domestic abuse, talks of abortion, buried alive references, broken glass, blood (always), Heights, threatening statements, non-consensual kiss, horrible grammar (aways).

[a/n: Okay, I had way too much fun with this. While I loved writing the main story, it's also super great to branch out into some more dynamics with Mob Boss Nat, because I haven't made her mean enough yet.]

Check out the full Oversight universe

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

The apartment building on the corner of twelfth and Hawke was a large midcentury brick building that structure that stretched to the sky. A metal fire escape latticed up the side and stretched clotheslines dripping with shirts and pants connected it to the adjacent building that had long since been used for storage.

Up until this point, you had avoided this building. Luckily, the tenants were quite timely with their rent and left little need for an enforcer to knock door to door. But it was right after the holidays and things were tough. That much, you understood. But it didn’t’ change the fact that three units were more than two months behind on their rent.

Them, you could appeal to with hot chocolate and some gentle urging. But according to Clint, there was a particularly nasty group of people living on the top floor that had gotten multiple noise complaints thrown their way.

The address hadn’t seemed familiar until you stood at the entrance and got a good look at the golden door that contrasted the rest of the structure. You’d written the code to the door on your palm, and you were having trouble differentiating the last number. It was a zero, or it was an eight.

“Gross, you’re sweaty.” Kate had pulled your hand a small distance from her scrutinizing stare, trying to read the smeared purple markings. “I knew we should have used the napkin.”

The woman dropped your hand and stepped up to the small box on the side of the entryway. She hit every button known to man until the fragile voice cracked through the speaker. “Yeah, uh-huh, pizza. I have pizza. Pepperoni-“Her ramblings were cut off by the loud buzz in.

You were treated to an innocent smile as she wrenched open the door and allowed you to follow her in. She was innovative, annoyingly so. Most of the time it worked in your favor but sometimes you found her testing your temper just to prove a point. Thankfully, she hadn’t noticed your hesitation.

It was coming back to you now; the large entryway that was lined with lock and key mail slots and a bolstered wooden staircase that was scarcely used compared to the elevator. Natasha kept good care of the place, had repainted and made sure every single lightbulb was humming in synch.

Some would say that she improved the neighborhood, block by block. But there were still those who liked the way things used to be; living paycheck to paycheck with an angry and withering stare being sent your way with each collection call.

“I’ve got Miss Henderson.”

“Oh, come on.” You protested “She sounds so cool.”

Miss Henderson was an older woman who lived on the fifth floor. Most of the time, her rent was late because it had simply slipped her mind. One look at Kate and she’d write a check before offering some of the sweetest cookies you’d ever tasted, often sending her back with a plateful.

From what you had heard, she used to travel with a circus as an acrobatic performer. Her act was death-defying; a performance that relied on her partners quick bladework. The Swordsman and his Enchantress. There were illustrations of their travels hung up around her unit- ones that you would kill to see.

“Too bad, next time.” Kate mock pouted at you before clapping you on the back. “Don’t make too much of a mess up on the top floor, alright? I don’t want to scrub carpets today.”

She took the stairs two at a time and left you alone in the lobby. A cool blast of wind hit your back as a tenant walked in with their dalmatian, pink tongue lolling to the side as his owner checked the mail, barely sparing you a glance.

The type of New York residents that occupied this space had changed greatly. The last time you’d been here was a walk of shame that left your feet raw and bleeding. You’d rushed from the apartment with so much fever that you never returned for your shoes, or your dignity, for that matter.

This time, you had shoes on, ones that you had scrubbed free of blood until they looked presentable. They were leaden on the stairs up to the top floor. Once you reached the fifth, you could hear Kate’s distinctive laugh behind the oak door. At least she was close.

The top floor was nearly silent. You could hear a television, a hockey game that you’d been listening to sparingly on the way over here. It sounded like Toronto was pulling through. The sound of a beer cracking pulled you away from the muffled announcers words.

A radio was resting in an upper window. You and Kate had heard it from the street below, a French Pop station that you could barely make out the words of. French was never your strong suite, one language requirement in high school was enough for you.

Silently, you prayed, that it was a coincidence. That the radio didn’t’ belong to the very men that you were meant to speak to. They were flighty, you told yourself. They weren’t ones to stay and if they chose to stick around after all these years- well, you’d be impressed.

You knocked twice on the center door, the deep forest-green paint threatening to chip under the elements. The music stopped abruptly, and while you could hear that someone was whispering quietly in French, you couldn’t make out the words.

The man that opened the door was too familiar for your liking; his pale waxy skin, his deep brown eyes that were so dark they were almost black, the tattoos that were smattered in different designs against his throat, down his collarbone. Pockmarked on his arms. His hair was longer than you remembered, greasier and tied up in a bun.

He took you in for a singular moment, shock reflecting in his stare, but before he moved to shut the door. You stopped the action with one strong hand, putting your boot between the frame and the wood for extra measure. “Don’t be like that, Kazi.”

“All these years, and now you’re coming back for child support?”

He raked his eyes up and down your body in a way that made you feel violated. You held your stance. He seemed impressed by the bout of strength.

You tsked “if I wanted child support, I would have gone after it by now. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

He scratched under the sleeve of his tank-top, considering you the same way you considered him. Eventually, he seemed to figure he had nothing to lose pulling the door back and letting you enter the apartment. Waves of memory washed over you.

Kazi still had the same futon covered in the same ratty blanket. There was a kitchen table that was stacked with different folders that he would never, in a million years, let you view. A blue funnel was drying on the dishrack, and countless liquor bottles that had been emptied and cleaned were lined up, ready to be filled with the slightest bit of homebrewed alcohol.

He was still running the same scam after all of these years. You remembered liking the danger about him, the way his stubble felt against you when you straddled him. He’d been so alluring to a good girl like you. He would street race at night with another guy you’d met a handful of times, Robbie Reyes.

God, you had been so naive back then. He was drawn in by your innocence and you were entrapped by his experience. If only you knew where you’d end up in seven years; with Kazi’s biological daughter being raised by the most powerful woman in the city.

The moment you told him you were pregnant, he told you bluntly to get rid of it. That same night, he’d thrown an empty liquor bottle at you, just barely missing your head. You’d refused outright and accepted his anger in turn. Glass shards cut into the soles of your feet, and stained the snow all the way back to your dorm room.

The way he stared at you now infuriated you. “What do you want, then?”

“You’re two months late on rent.”

“I figured you’d keep tabs. Most women do. But my rent? That’s a new one.”

You picked up a small paperweight that you remember being fond of when you returned to this apartment after a first date where Kazi was a perfect gentleman. He’d bought dinner, and walked you back to his place. The glass object was tinted yellow, a small mosquito suspended in the center. He must have gotten it in a museum gift shop.

“Truthfully, I’m shocked you still live here.” You tested the weight of the object. “Most landlords aren’t very lenient about tardiness.”

“Yeah, well. She’s not very attentive. What can I say?”

Oh, but Natasha was quite attentive in more than one aspect, at that. You couldn’t’ help the smile that spread against your lips. Kazi was growing agitated with your presence, always quick to temper.

With all the strength you could muster, you threw the paperweight at the wall directly behind him. In its innate cheapness, it shattered into a million pieces, littering the carpet and slicing little bites into his skin. Kazi flinched and covered his face with his arms.

“Fuck! Y/n, what the hell!” He screamed.

“You have two weeks to backdate the rent, Kazi. Another week to get us this month’s amount. That sounds reasonable to me. Attentive, even.”

He reached into the back of his sweatpants and pulled out a silver Kimber, pumping the top chamber and aiming it at you with a shaky hand. He was too lax with his hold. A pinprick of crimson was dripping from a cut on his cheek.

“Come on, Kazi. It’s not the end of the world. I’m sure you can push some half-rate liquor. Sell a few of your gold fillings, and come up with the money my employer is required.”

“Employer? You work for that… monster?”

“Now, there’s a big word.” You closed the distance between the two of you, not giving him a moment to react before you wrenched the gun from his hand and threw it onto that ratty old blanket that adorned the futon he’d found on the side of the road. “So much horrible implication behind it too. You shouldn’t name call.”

Your boots crunched against the shattered glass. Kazi was barefoot, he flinched as flesh was dug into by uneven shards. You could smell the rancid coffee on his breath. He had a mole just on small of his nose.

“What happened to you?” he whispered, “Where’s that girl that stormed out of my apartment because she didn’t get her way?”

“A lot can change in seven years, Kaz.” You glanced around his apartment. “Well, most people change. Some people don’t go anywhere in life.”

Kazi pressed forward, his dry lips suddenly against yours. You froze in an instant, appalled by the acrid taste of cigarettes and stale morning coffee that he had no-doubt heated up in the microwave and drank black. The kiss was strong, rushed and painful in the way that his teeth knocked against yours.

It took less than a second for you to push him away. His head hit the cabinet behind it, rattling the glasses inside. Your hand was splayed out on his chest, nails digging into the stained tank-top he wore. He grinned wolfishly at you. Your teeth had dug so hard into his lip that it drew blood.

“I like this rough version of you, sweetheart. It’s hot.”

You reeled back and slapped him across the face with as much force as you could muster in your close proximity. The radio in the window seemed to flicker out of power at that moment, or maybe they had just run out of shitty pop music to play. Either way, the two of you were engulfed in silence.

“Shit, baby, hit me again!”

He had no idea how much you wanted to abide by that, though, you were quite positive that it would do nothing but spur on his arousal. This wasn’t going to work. If he kept pushing the way he was, you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from pulling your own weapon.

It suddenly became too much, standing in the middle of this time-capsule of an apartment. The memories were too strong. When the two of you were together, everything you did was for his benefit. And while this had been fun at first, testing him like this, it was too much.

You grabbed the collar of his sweat-soiled shirt, wrapping it around your fingers with enough force to tear the fabric away. “Two weeks, you fucking asshole. If you don’t have the money by then, I’m sure the city will have a fun time scrubbing your brain matter from the sidewalk.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He sneered.

You pressed your booted foot down on the top of his, listening as the glass dug deeper into the soft skin. This time, he did cry out in pain, the grinding of pieces close to bone making his eyes water. You placed your hand over his mouth, muffling his protest. “I will make your miserable existence a living hell, with or without the money, for what you did to me. Do you understand?”

“You’re so full of shit-“ you pressed your full weight down and you squirmed under your hold. “Yes! Yes, I get it. Fuck!”

You pulled yourself away from Kazi entirely, straightening his shirt. He was slumped against the counter, staring at you with pure rage in his eyes. He shifted his full weight to his other foot, grimacing at the edged stain on the wooden floor.

“You should really clean that up.” You gritted, mouth still tasting of stale smoke. “Glass can be dangerous, Kazimirez.”

By the time you got to the car the only thing on your mind was taking the hottestshower possible. You’d pawed through Kate’s glovebox rather frantically and counted it a small blessing that that there was a single unwrapped piece of gum at the very bottom.

She cringed as you popped it in your mouth and let the minty dusty taste coat your tongue. If you could, without raising suspicion, you would have dumped solvent on it, just to take the taste of Kazi out of your mouth.

“I don’t know how long that’s been in there.” Kate said, watching you warily as you picked up her water bottle and downed half of that too. It seemed to take the rest of the rancid flavor away.

“I don’t care”

“You should care, I bought this car used.” She frowned, tapping her fingers against the wheel. “Okay, I didn’t’ buy it. I bought the license plates though, that’s my civic duty.”

Her words were enough for you to roll your window down and toss the gum from it. Despite your profession, you weren’t a very good liar. Not when it came to Natasha. She’d ask you about your day like usual and you’d crumble under her seemingly innocent gaze.

Nothing Natasha did was innocent.

“What happened up there?” Kate asked.

The two of you were well out of the city by now, and still had about a half-hour until you got to the mansion. The family liked their privacy, and after a year of living there permanently, so did you.

When you didn’t answer right away, she kept going. “Because I got cookies. Nearly choked on one when Miss Henderson insisted on a private show. It’s seriously a wonder that a woman her age can still bend like that.”

“Katie,” You warned, “Gross.”

“Impressive actually. She kept her clothes on, which I am eternally grateful for. It looks like you had a more eventful visit with the French dudes upstairs.” She scoffed, “Who the fuck is French anymore?”

You rolled your eyes and slumped further into your seat. Kazi was French. You used to crumble when he gave you the choppiest lines that he could remember. According to him, the language is harder to speak than it is to read and write. You never questioned him, just like you didn’t question a lot of things.

“I have a… history with the man who rents 807.”

“A history, or a… history?”

“The first one. The second one. Shit- I don’t know, both! He’s Ronnie’s dad.”

Kate slammed on the brakes with enough force for a layer of rubber to be peeled from the tires of her mostly stolen care. The seatbelt cut into your neck and you figured yourself lucky that you’d taken a back road that was rarely used, god forbid she cause an accident.

“Dude!” You shouted as she put the car into park.

Kate twisted her entire body in the seat, placing her hand on the back of your seat. The motor was sputtering wildly, trying to compensate for her abrupt stop. Something had to be damaged, you thought, with her force on the pedal.

“Don’t dude me. Are you really that dense? If you haven’t noticed, Natasha is possessive over her things. And you? Well, you’re one of her favorite things. She’s not going to take this well in the slightest.”

“Kate, I think I know how to handle my girlfriend.”

“No, you know how to handle Natasha, the sweet, loving woman who would die for you and your child. Admirable, really. But you don’t know how to handle Miss Romanoff, mob boss extraordinaire.”

But you had seen Natasha in action before, countless times. She’d always kept this calm coolness about her that you were in awe of. Maybe Kate was right. You’d only seen a fraction of her jealous side at the first party you had ever attended in the house. That night she ripped the dress she’d picked out specifically for you to shreds.  

“I was dating a man named Eli when I was first taken in by the Romanoff’s, He turned out to be… not so favorable despite my constant reassurances. Natasha just knows. She had him dig a grave right off I-25 and then she made him lay in it.”

Your jaw threatened to drop at the simple fact. Kate removed her hand from the back of the seat and eased off the brake before she slowly got the two of you back up to an acceptable speed.

“All Eli did was cheat on me one night in a club. It wasn’t great, but I wasn’t sure if it warranted that kind of reaction. I never knew if she was proving a point to me, or to Eli. Either way, the smallest offense against any of us is met with archaic conviction.”

You didn’t respond to Kate, instead you stared at the trees that were whizzing by in a lush green wall of color. You’d decided that she was right- any type of reaction Natasha was going to have to Kazi would be severe.

“You’ll be fine.” Kate tapped her fingers nervously on the wheel, trying to backtrack her words. “As long as he didn’t’ touch you.”

It didn’t seem to matter how ferociously you scrubbed your skin with the honey scented soap you shared with Natasha, you swore you still smelled like smoke. It clung to your clothes, and lingered in the air after you’d shoved them to the bottom of the clothes basket.

The water was blazingly hot, filling the bathroom with a thick mist that made it slow to breathe. Natasha had chosen a dark blue tile that seemed to transport you into another world. Even without the scaring remembrance of Kazi’s lips against yours, his hands where you didn’t want them, you could stay here for hours.

Her hands were freezing cold and startling as they splayed against your naked stomach. You let out a small noise, going rigid before registering Natasha behind you. Her front was pressed against your back, and you’d know the curve of her body anywhere.

“Izvinite, moya lyubov', I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You turned in her arms and took in the state of her. She’d stripped down just as you had, small drops of water littering her skin like a constellation in the sky. She’d been in the sun today, a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose giving her away.

There was a bruise forming against the side of her jaw, one that you ran your waterlogged fingers over. Her eyes were an intoxicating shade of green, playing off the indigo tiles. You wanted to scold her for getting the bruise in the first place, but you were so entrapped by her simple presence, the way she fit so perfectly against you.

Natasha closed the distance between you both, pressing her lips against yours in a hurried kiss. You moaned into the embrace, allowing her tongue to find purchase in your mouth. God- you had missed her in the short few hours you’d been apart.

“Did you take up smoking?” she asked, barely pulling away, the words were spoken flushed to your lips. “It’s a terrible habit, darling.”

The glovebox gum hadn’t done its job, and apparently the swish of mouthwash and subsequent teeth brushing hadn’t done anything either. Of course, Natasha noticed. Of course. You weren’t going to try to hide it, though the thought did occur to you to save some heartache. But you were hoping you could placate her in a less slippery spot of the house when you were less naked and incredibly turned on by her presence.

A groan of a different cadence than she was used to escaped you as you dropped your head to her shoulder and clenched your eyes shut. “No, I didn’t take up smoking.”

“You taste like you have,” She gently led your eyes to hers. It was tender compared to the first time she had done so. “Licking ash trays again?”

“Gross, no.”

Natasha valued honesty above all. That much had been clear from the moment you met her. She’d nearly taken your head off in the gym when you repeated your one-night-stand with the enemy. The devil incarnate who happened to only be decent in bed. You remembered her hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough for you to give her the answers she craved.

“What is it, pet? You can tell me.”

“Do you… I’ve been with men before.”

She let out a small chuckle that reverberated off the deep tile. “Yes, I know. I didn’t want to make assumptions, of course, but Ronnie does have a father.”

The way you stared at her in the silence that followed the statement made the smile on her face falter until it dropped entirely. She must have seen something behind your eyes, something that weighed the situation down more than she was intending on a typical Wednesday night.

“I’d completely blacked it out and didn’t realize it until I stepped foot into the lobby, but he still lives in the same apartment on the top floor. He thought I was after child support, or something but things sort of… escalated.”

You felt like a child, spilling your secrets about a vase you had broken. This time it was a cheap paperweight with a bug in the center that you frankly felt bad for. The words came out like emotional vomit, granted, Natasha had become used to your rapid admissions.

Her grip tightened against your chin, “Escalated how?”

“He kissed me, and I hit him hard enough to break his jaw.”

That same silence enveloped you again. The scalding water had lost its effect, numb and beating against your back. The two of you were still impossibly close and there wasn’t much escape for you in a shower this size. The glass door having fogged up and only giving you a stunted view of the large bathroom.

Natasha had an immeasurable rage behind her stare, her lidded expression ran as dark as old blood. It chilled you to your core. She reached beside you and shut off the constant flow of water. You’d been in here for about an hour now and the cold air that touched your skin felt like an assault of needles. You instinctively wrapped your arms around your center to preserve warmth.

“He laid his hands on you.”

“Yeah, Nat, he did.”

“He touched you.”

“I gave him hell for it, but it didn’t seem like it was enough.”

“Without permission.”

“He’ll never do it again.”

Whatever split-second decision she made; it was done without the usual calculation behind her eyes. She threw the door to the shower open and forcefully shoved a towel into your arms. While you revered in the warmth, you watched as she sauntered in her usual way out of the bathroom and into your shared bedroom. She was dripping wet.

“Natty!” You stumbled over the partition and nearly slid on the bathroom floor. It was much colder outside of your cocoon of warmth and subsequent mist. She thankfully hadn’t left the room and was pawing through her side of the dresser. You nearly lost your footing once you reached hardwood. “Fuck,”

She seemed to find what she was looking for, a plain black tank top that hugged her sides and looked entirely uncomfortable to wiggle into while damp. You watched with baited breath in a sloping towel as she adorned herself with underwear and pants, before turning towards you.

“Get dressed.” She ordered in a dangerous tone.

Shit. She was going to make you dig your own grave. You’d just showered all of the grime from Kazi’s apartment off and in a matter of minutes you would have dirt up to your knees. Natasha may have let Eli live after his blunder, but maybe she’d cover you completely and let you suffocate in your own efforts.

Numbly, you put on a pair of sweatpants and the closest shirt you had. There was no need to get dressed for your own funeral, you supposed. The worms would chew through whatever you wore regardless.

Clint was stretched out on the chase in the foyer, a pair of thick-lensed glasses balancing on the tip of his nose. Regardless, he still squinted at the book in his hands. You wondered why he wasn’t in the living room, but caught a glimpse of a particularly intense game of twister between Ronnie, Yelena, and Kate.

Darcy held onto the board, flicking the small plastic needle and calling out the colors. When Kate clocked the anger in Natasha’s eyes, she dropped to her back, taking down Yelena and Ronnie with her.

She gave you a pleading look, but you were already too far gone to return anything other than a flushed expression. You followed obediently after Natasha. She opened the front door and watched you with a calculated expression before slamming the front door hard enough to shake the glass fronting.

“Get in the car.”

“Do you want me to grab a shovel?”

“What?”

She contemplated this for a minute, growling softly. The near silence was terrifying. Her arms crossed over her chest was terrifying. Your mouth with incredibly dry, and you wished that you were back under the constant stream of water.

“No. I don’t think we’ll need that. Get in the car.”

Numbly, you did as you were told, placing your hands in your lap. This was quite possibly the last time you would be sitting in any car, much less, next to Natasha. She reached across you and pulled your seatbelt into place, tugging on the upper portion until she was sure you weren’t going anywhere.

The tires picked up traction on the gravel and the drive that usually took an hour seemed to whiz by. Natasha was quiet, the route to the city more than familiar by now. She run her hands against the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. You could hear her breathing deeply, trying to ease her nerves. You didn’t dare say a word.

For a moment, you figured that she’d abandoned the idea of burying you alive and switched her ideals to something much more sinister and public. She pulled her car up to the front of the very building you had left a few hours ago, the sun just barely setting behind the skyline. You blinked at her, and then up at the very property that she owned.

“Come on.”

There was no room for discussion. The air here was clouded with the scent of smoke and the coolness of the cement structures around you. It was moments like these where you much preferred the country.

Of course, Natasha knew the code, she had recited it to you earlier as you and Kate ate lunch by the docks, stretched out on the hood of her car. It was wrong then and your nerves were too elevated to pay attention now. She got in without the theatrics.

There seemed to be more activity as the day for working folks began to wind down. Two people halted their conversation by the mail-slots, nodding solemnly at the woman. On the third floor, you caught a glimpse of a woman struggling to push her keys into the lock, juggling her gym bag. The sixth floor held a small boy who darted from one apartment to another, edging across the hall.

She kept climbing until that same irritating French pop filled your ears. He must keep it on at all hours of the day, just to drown out his own miserable thoughts. “What apartment?”

You lifted your chin slightly, hands shoved in the pockets of your sweatpants to ward off the biting chill. “807.”

“Spasibo, lyubimyy.”

Natasha’s booted foot connected with the center of the very door you had politely knocked on earlier in the day. You flinched, covering your face with a guarded arm. The wood of the doorframe seemed to splinter, slivers reigning across both sides of the entrance.

“What the fuck!”

Kazi was hunched over the kitchen table, the funnel that had been drying by the sink was positioned perfectly in the mouth of a soaked and peeled liquor bottle. He had a stack of his own labels ready to place evenly on the finished product. Both of his feet were haphazardly wrapped with gauze, small sprouts of blood worming through the soft material.

He’d taken care to clean up the glass, but with the way Natasha headed straight towards him, that didn’t matter much. More of it fell to the floor and shattered upon impact. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and started walking him backwards across the living room. Kazi seemed too stunned to speak, his words caught in his throat.

“I-I-I didn’t mean it! Please!”

“When you speak to me, you’ll do it clearly.” She gritted, shoving him towards the window. Somewhere in the scuffle, the radio had fallen from its perch on the cracked windowsill, crashing to the alleyway below with one last fizzled cry. “You had no trouble saying whatever you wanted earlier, did you?”

“I’m sorry! Fuck! I told that bitch I would have the rent!”

“Yeah? Was that before or after you shoved your tongue down her throat?”

Natasha bent Kazi’s torso fully over the screenless window. He grasped frantically at her hands, clawing at them as the balanced him over the long drop to the pavement below. His bare feet kicked, trying to throw her off her equilibrium, but he was much too weak for any type of damage.

“You walked out on them.”

“What? Oh, my god, what?! I told her to get rid of it- I didn’t walk out on anyone! You’re batshit lady!”

To you, it didn’t’ seem very wise to throw insults at the woman holding you above an eight-story drop, but Kazi never was known for his intelligence. His bravado, maybe, but never anything more. He looked so small compared to Natasha’s anger.

“She didn’t get rid of it, Kazi. She kept the kid that you couldn’t have bothered to give another thought to. She made a life for both of them. She fucking loves that kid enough to fill the absence you left.” Natasha let her hand slip, letting him waver in his height for a moment before pulling him back up. He was crying, sobbing for his life. “And you have the nerve, to touch her, to break her and then come rushing back when she was strong enough to pick up the pieces?”

“I wasn’t ready,” he moaned out “I couldn’t be a dad.”

“It seems like there are a lot of things you can’t do, doesn’t it? You’re a pathetic excuse for a man. A pathetic excuse for a human being and once we leave here- I never want to see your face in my city again. Am I clear?”

Kazi let out another course of intelligible, wet, words. His back was nearly breaking under the force of Natasha’s hold, her knee directly up against his crotch, pushing down with all the strength she could muster.

“Y/n, I think this is a teaching moment, don’t you?”

The softness of her words as she addressed you caught you off guard. There was no malice. In fact, she beckoned to you as if she was calling you into the living room to join her under the blankets for a movie. Your heart raced fast enough for your chest to ache as you closed the distance between you both.

“See, the trick is making them think that you’re going to let them go.”

She said this to you as if Kazi wasn’t a slobbering mess under her touch. He’d carved little half-moon marks against the tops of her hand, some of them starting to leak blood with the sheer force of his struggle.

“You have to get creative with the fear aspect. If they think they’re going to die, it tends to work in our favor. Doesn’t it, Kazi?”

“Please,” He whimpered, “I’ll do whatever you want. I’m sorry, y/n, I’m sorry.”

Natasha did the seemingly impossible, she pushed him further out the window, his calves struggling for purchase against the drywall. “Oh, now that simply won’t do. You must keep her name out of your mouth.”

“In situations like these, darling, it’s best to keep full control. If he was anything other than wretched, then maybe you’d have to worry about him fighting back. You’ll get some people like that, but that trick is having leverage, literal and physical in cases like this.”

“I see,” You let the words escape you in a single breath “and how long do we play this game?”

“Until they know it’s not one.”

It took little effort for Natasha to push Kazi the rest of the way out the window. In spite of his clinging grip, the force of gravity was enough to do the work for her. His cry stunted in his throat and it only took a few seconds for a dull thud to echo through the alleyway, followed by the unmistakable sound of a car alarm going off.

With a small gasp, you leaned over the window yourself, staring down at the white Toyota that now had a sizeable dent in the top, the windshield spiderwebbing. Kazi let out a groan that you could hear from up here, blinking up at the sky with malice and shock in his eyes.

“Nat,” You breathed.

“Please, eight stories is survivable. Some people need to be taught a lesson.” She shrugged, pulling you back into the apartment by the sleeve of your shirt. “I’ll pay for the car repairs, if that makes you feel better, detka.”

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“Of course I did.” She reached forward and cupped both of your cheeks, forcing you to look at her. It was impossible to ignore the gesture, the words that she had said with so much blind passion. Tears threatened to overtake your waterline. “moya lyubov', he put his hands on you without permission and before that… before that he hurt you in ways unimaginable. I meant every word I said.”

You could hear sirens in the distance, a hazard of living in the city. They could be for Kazi, you supposed, something to take care of the surely broken ribs and the bruised ego. But, they could be for something more important.

You pushed forward and kissed Natasha delicately. You wanted to be impossibly close to her. Most gestures you had received in the past had come in the form of flowers, maybe the occasional box of chocolate from the drug store. Once again- Natasha had proved something to you.

Her chuckle vibrated into the kiss, “Mm, we should probably leave.”

You couldn’t agree more. You wanted to get out of this stupid apartment that was teeming with memories of your time with Kazi. The way he claimed his love for you, and forced you to make a horrible decision all in one exhale.

As the two of you walked down the long and winding steps, Natasha asked, “What was with the shovel thing?”

You laughed, suddenly feeling foolish for fearing Natasha in the first place. Her silence caused waves, and somehow, that was worse than if she’d threatened you outright, something that she never did with much heat.

“Kate, she told me about her ex-boyfriend, Eli, I think she said his name was.”

“Ah, Eli.” She frowned, “He cheated on her, and I only made him dig for an hour.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, as long as you never make me dig my own grave.”

 “I would never do that. There is no punishment in things you can’t control.” Natasha gave your hand a squeeze, her solemn words punctuated with a slowly creeping smile. “Besides, detka, that’s simply not my style. It was much too messy.”

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha ROmanoff x you #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Natasha Romanov x you #Natasha Romanov x reader #Mafia au #Yelena Belova #Kate Bishop #Clint Barton #Reader insert #request

[oizysian]

I Set the World on Fire | mafia!au

Summary: Wanda is the don of a very powerful mafia family, only rivaled by the Romanoff family. When she and her long time girlfriend, Y/N, start having problems, Natasha, head of the Romanoff family, sees a means to an end. But is everything as it seems?

Teaser: My Wanda

Part I: Looking Out For You

Part II: Daddy Issues

Part III: Irreplaceable

#wanda maximoff fanfiction #I’ll update this as I post them #mafia!au #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x female reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x female reader

[haleyhunwritess]

Who is she?

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟮 / 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟯

A/N: as always let me know if you have any requests and please show some love if you like my work🥺🥺🥺

Warnings: Mob!Bucky, arguing, crying, possessiveness, ANGST BUT ALSO FLUFF

You awaken entwined in your beloved Bucky's arms and sheets on a typical chilly fall Saturday morning. The wind is soft and comforting, and the sun is high in the sky. Despite the hazy clouds' leisurely movement, songbirds are chirping in the distance. He softly kissed your forehead before getting up to make his way over to the kitchen in only his boxers.

Soon, soft jazz began to echo through your apartment. The aroma of toast and bacon cooking filled the space as you walked down the stairs. You smiled as you saw Bucky cooking and humming along to the music, lightly chuckling at his silly little dance moves. At the sound of your beautiful laughter, he turned around, smirking at the sight of you wearing nothing but his shirt. He walked over to you, scooped you up, brought you over to the kitchen, and set you down on the kitchen counter. 

“Wait here like the good girl I know you are.” 

You reached for the coffee pot as he started to crack some eggs for the pancake batter, but he slapped your hand away with a nearby wooden spoon.  

“I thought I told you to wait.” He grumbled, sounding a bit harsh. You instantly withdrew your hand and looked down, fidgeting with your fingers. He sighed and continued cooking without saying anything. 

He had been acting strange ever since you confronted him about Natalia after overhearing him and Steve arguing in his study about a woman named Natalia. His eyes widened at your question, and his face turned furious as he asked why you were listening in on his private chats. Up until that point, you had never been afraid of Bucky, but his grip on your arm and his relentless shouting at you for failing to mind your own business gave you the chills. 

At first you were extremely upset, but as he apologized and sobbed in your arms about how stressful work had been lately, you couldn't help but feel bad for him. You forgave him because you believed he wouldn't act that way again and that the incident must have been due to stress. However lately, his behaviour had become increasingly controlling and possessive, and it had become so difficult that he even tried to convince you to quit your job so he could take care of you. You told him he was crazy to even suggest it and flat-out refused to do it. Upon hearing that, he threw his drink across the room, spilled whiskey and shards of glass all over the floor. As he reprimanded you for not listening, you cried out for his forgiveness throughout the whole night.

“Why don’t you ever listen? Why do you make me do this to you?”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you woke up and recalled the events from the night before. You winced as you arose from the bed, gathering the sheets around our naked body. The bruises and marks from the previous night were all over your body, making you gasp as you saw them in the mirror. 

You came to the conclusion that perhaps you needed a break from this relationship. Contrary to your expectations, he surprised you by agreeing that your relationship needed a break and expressed no anger. He stated that he was sorry and hoped that you’d be willing to forgive him soon. After two weeks apart, it became obvious to you that, despite his flaws, you loved him and couldn't bear to let him go. All those sleepy touches and delicate, midnight kisses, all those rare 'I love you's', the way he says your name in the morning, gentle and sweet, the way he moans your name when he comes burrowed their way into your heart.  Two nights ago, you showed up at his doorstep, and one of his men led you inside and up to his study. He hurried over as soon as he caught a glimpse of you and pulled you into his arms, muttering apologies while you sobbed softly on his shirt. He lifted you up without difficulty and carried you to his bedroom. He couldn't resist pushing you onto the bed before climbing on top of you to push his lips against yours. He kissed you as if it were his first time.   You kissed him back, intensely passionate and sad, while he tightened his hold on you. You missed him. You missed loving him. 

“I’m sorry, darling. I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you.” And he did. He even agreed to stay at your apartment for a week without having his men follow him around and interrupt you all day. After you two snuck over to your apartment, he decided to turn his phone off, and had been ignoring calls from everyone for the past two days. He went above and beyond to make it up to you, and you were pleasantly surprised by that. 

Still, something didn't feel right. You couldn't quite put your finger on it. Was it simply the way he acted earlier when all you did was try to pour yourself a cup of coffee? Was it his possessive behaviour at dinner last night, when the waiter was shamelessly flirting with you? Or was it possible that he was returning to old habits? He did seem to regain a little of his controlling attitude after last night. You shook your head at the idea, decided it was most likely just paranoia, and returned to watching him prepare breakfast. 

When you were done with breakfast, you practically begged him to take you to the farmer's market. He groaned at the idea but didn’t have the heart to say no to you. As you moved down the aisles of the farmers market, your hips brushed against his as you were linked by your hands, fingers lazily wrapped within each other.  

“Bucky?” A redhead woman in a striking sundress approached you both, completely ignoring your presence. Bucky, on the other hand, was starting to look a bit nervous as she leaned in to give him a hug. The other woman smirked as you frowned at the scene and pulled him closer to you. 

“Hi, I’m Natalia. And you must be the woman who’s been screwing my husband.” Your eyes widened, and you pulled your hand away from Bucky’s as he cursed under his breath.

#mafia!bucky #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky x y/n #bucky angst #bucky barnes #mafia!bucky x reader #steve x reader #nat x reader #natasha romanoff

[mrs-illyrian-baby]

Now that Bambi's been introduced to the family...

Find Bambi's intro HERE!

#Mafia AU #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #Loki #Natasha Romanoff #ari levinson #Nick Fowler #joaquin torres #Thor #Mickey Henry #Steven Grant #marc spector #jake lockley #Sam Wilson #Andy Barber #valkyrie #Jake Jensen #wanda maximoff #Frank Castle #Maria Hill #Kraven the Hunter #Colin Shea #Max Sharper #Mob Rules AU

[sjsmith56]

Visitors, Chapter 3 - Eyes of the Father

Summary: Bucky has to deal with intruders at Lacey’s cabin. Recognized by them he has to leave but he advises her to call the FBI to arrest the four men. A month later, Lacey seeks out Steve Rogers for help.

Length: 5.2 K

Characters: Bucky, Lacey, Agent Jones, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, unnamed Russian mobsters.

Warnings: Violence, angst, anger.

❤️ ❤️ 💔

A hand on her mouth woke Lacey and she heard Bucky's voice whisper in her ear. "There's someone outside," he said. "I'm going to put my clothes on and check it out. Can you get into the attic by yourself and pull up the ladder?"

"Yes," she said, suddenly afraid. "You be careful."

"I always am," he replied and he went to his room quietly.

Lacey threw some clothes on and went out to the main room, pulling down the ladder and going up. She pulled the ladder up behind her and sat in the corner of the attic, near the window, trying to see what was going on outside. She did see one man, with a gun, when Bucky came up behind him unseen and unheard. He put the man into a chokehold, knocking him out. Then he disarmed him and pulled him into the bushes. She heard the sound of a door opening into the house and held her breath, afraid to move. The door opened again and there was the sound of a scuffle followed by silence. Several minutes later the door opened once more and she heard a muffled whisper in a language she couldn't recognize. There was another scuffle which lasted longer but again ended in silence.

A sound outside the window drew her attention and she watched as a big man with a shaved head came across the yard. He looked up at the window and she pulled back immediately, afraid she had been seen. A few minutes later the sound of the door to the attic being pulled down reached her ears and she heard someone coming up the ladder. Terrified, Lacey tried to hide herself in the darkness. A man's head peeked out from the opening, seeming to look right at her. It took all of her willpower not to scream. Suddenly he was pulled down and she could hear the sound of a brawl in the house. Creeping to the opening on her hands and knees she saw glimpses of Bucky, carrying a kitchen knife in his hand, as he fought the man. It was incredible to watch him. He was fast, brutal, and he fought like a demon against a man who was obviously skilled in this type of fighting. Bucky was so much more skilled in his fighting technique that it seemed he was almost playing with the man, waiting for the moment when he could take him down. He finally pinned the man down putting the knife through his palm, and into the floor. With his artificial hand Bucky punched him repeatedly until the man was unconscious before he stopped and sat back on his heels, his breathing barely noticeable. He looked up the stairs.

"Are you okay?" he called.

"Yes," she answered back.

"Do you have duct tape?" he asked. "They need to be immobilized until the FBI gets here. They're Russian and they were talking about the flash drive."

"In my desk," she said. "Do you want me to get it?

"No, stay up there for a bit," he replied. "I'll take care of it."

He opened her desk drawer, located the duct tape and began to hog tie the three men, frisking them to make sure they weren't carrying any other weapons. Then he went outside, found the fourth and carried him inside, hog tying him and frisking him as well. Only then would he allow her to come down, turning on the light so she could see. She looked at the four men then at Bucky.

"You took down four men and you're barely winded," she said, impressed.

"It's what I do," he replied, then he lifted a shirt on one of the men, showing her a distinctive tattoo. "Russian mob. Some of the mobs were involved in HYDRA as well, on the trafficking side, kidnapping people to be their slaves." The man with the shaved head came to and looked at Bucky then said "Soldat." Bucky said something in Russian back to him and looked back at Lacey. "I told him I don't do that anymore. He recognized me. It means I'm going to have to leave. They can't get word to HYDRA that I was here. I'm sorry. You need to go to your mom's house as soon as you can or they'll come back for you and for the drive."

She nodded. "I guess this is goodbye then," she said, looking down.

He raised her chin with his hand. "I'm sorry," he said again, gently. "The less you know about my plans the better. You may have to sell this place otherwise they'll watch you to see if I return."

"What will I tell the FBI about these four?" she asked.

"The truth," he replied. "They won't believe you outsmarted four Russian heavies so tell them it was me. Then tell them I left right away and you don't know where I went. Phone them right now. They'll send a small army to deal with these four."

She nodded and phoned Agent Jones again to tell him she was just saved by Bucky Barnes from four Russian mobsters. He practically yelled into the phone, telling her to stay put. Bucky went into the bedroom while she spoke to Jones. Once she hung up she went to the room and saw he had packed his backpack. He stepped forward, pushed the door closed, and grasped her by the shoulders touching her cheek softly then kissing her deeply. He went to the window, opened it and climbed out. As she looked outside she spotted him near some bushes in the distance. Turning back he blew her a kiss then he disappeared into the bushes. With a sob, she felt as if part of her insides had been ripped out.

Returning to the living room the man who had spoken to Bucky looked at her. "The soldier belongs to HYDRA," he said in heavily accented English. "When they get him back they will send him to kill you and he will because it was what he was programmed to do. You can run but the soldier will find you. He always does."

"Fuck you," she replied and the man smirked at her bravado.

Sitting with the Russians waiting for the FBI to arrive gave her the creeps by itself, but it was almost worse as the bald headed man watched her every move. The other three, once they came to, also watched her in a way that was unnerving. They spoke with each other in Russian and several times laughed, making Lacey think they were talking about her and not in a respectful way. She was glad Bucky had taped them up making it impossible for them to get loose. Twenty long minutes later three black vehicles and a paddy wagon with lights flashing pulled up into the yard. Agent Jones was in the lead vehicle and came right inside without knocking on the door. He lifted the four men's faces up off the floor and sneered at them, then ordered his men to get them out of there. Another man took their weapons which Bucky had left piled on the table. Once they were gone he looked at Lacey expectantly.

"The flash drive?" he asked.

"You wouldn't be getting it if he hadn't been here," said Lacey, as she walked into the spare room. "Where was your guy, huh? Why didn't he pick it up last night?"

Jones grabbed her arm and spun her around. "You are very close to being arrested for harbouring a known fugitive," he said. "A very dangerous fugitive. He's a killer."

"Who saved my life," she reminded him as she yanked her arm out of his grip. "Those four, will they make bail? Will they come back to take me out? Bucky told me they're traffickers for HYDRA, scum of the earth, in other words. Will you protect me from them?"

"How long was he here?" asked Jones, his face just inches from hers, close enough that she could see the pores on his skin. "Did you know him before your brother came here?"

Lacey stepped back, intimidated by his anger. "No," she replied in a resigned manner. "He was hiding in the garage, injured. I didn't know who he was at the time but he asked for my help. It was after you left. He slept in the spare room, helped me with some of the house repairs. When those guys showed up he took them out, without killing them. Told me to phone you and to tell you the truth that it was him that helped me. So, I'm not going to believe you when you call him a dangerous killer. Is he dangerous ... yes, but not to me. Is he a killer? Not any more. You can believe me or not. Now let me get you that flash drive."

She went into the spare bedroom, pulled out the night table, lifted the loose piece of wood and took the flash drive out. Shoving it into his hand she looked at him harshly in the early morning light.

"By the way, he found your listening devices," she said. "I was nothing but truthful to you and yet you put listening devices into my home, as if I was a common criminal. Shame on you."

He shrugged. "Sorry," he said. "That decision came from higher up."

"Well perhaps your higher ups might be interested to know that those four Russians knew about the flash drive," she said. "If Tom didn't tell them then somebody in the FBI did. Chew on that. Now get out of my house."

He looked sharply at her and left the house while she followed him outside. Making a circular motion with his hand while holding it up in the air his associates got back into the SUVs and they pulled out. Then Lacey got dressed, made herself a coffee and sat at the table deciding what to do. She walked through the house, looking at and touching things, bringing back memories. After a time she phoned a realtor on her cell phone and told her she wanted to list the property immediately, as is, buyer take everything. Once she hung up, she broke down crying.

"I'm sorry Grandpa," she cried, looking around her. "I have to sell it. It's too dangerous for me now."

She started to pack her suitcases, then found a couple of boxes and packed up her books. For a moment she smiled when she realized her book, Confessions of a Broken White Girl, was missing.

"Son of a bitch, he took it," she said. "Maybe I will see him again."

She finished packing the books, then put the assorted pictures she had into the box with them. Looking around she tried to decide what else to take and she saw them, her Grandpa's LPs. He wanted to hear them all so she would play them for him and found she had an appreciation for big band music, as that comprised most of his collection. Going out into the garage she found some milk crates and emptied them of their contents. Inside the house she transferred the LPs into them, then put them into the trunk of her car.

Once more she looked around the living room area again but she didn't see anything else that was meaningful to her. She went into the spare room and looked around then saw something on the dresser. She hadn't noticed it when she went in to get the flash drive but she noticed it now. It was a paper heart, made origami style. She picked it up and turned it over. Written in pen in beautiful handwriting on the back were the words I will remember you, B. Sitting on the bed she held the paper heart in her hand and cried. They were over before they had ever started and he was gone forever. Her grandpa's robe was on the bed and she picked it up smelling Bucky's clean scent on it.

Slowly she took some deep breaths, calming her emotions then she put the paper heart inside of her favourite book, Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, and packed it back in the book box. From there she went to her room and looked around to see if there was anything she wanted to take with her. She folded up her grandmother's quilt then spotted her Grandpa's Korea medals, taking the shadow box gently into her hands. She wrapped it up in the robe, putting it and the quilt in the box with her books. As she came out of the bedroom there was a knock at the door and she opened the door to the realtor, who had got out there quickly. Lacey showed her around and explained that something had come up that required her immediate attention, that she wouldn't be able to return to pack up the house. After discussing an opening price Lacey told her the lowest price she would accept. She signed the contract, shook hands with the realtor and watched her leave with the spare set of keys. Then she packed the LPs and book boxes in her car's trunk, putting her suitcases in the back seat. After locking up the house she stood outside looking at it, at her failed dream, and got into her car. When she pulled away she didn't look back.

One month later

It was difficult waiting for the results of the final pregnancy test. Lacey had bought three of them, after three days straight of throwing up. The first two were both positive and now she was waiting for this one. The egg timer buzzed and she picked up the final test ... pregnant. She took a deep breath. How had this happened? Bucky was sure he was sterile and she had been on the pill. However it had happened it was real and now she had a decision to make. Was she going to keep it or get rid of it? She looked around at her bachelor suite. It was tiny, a furnished rental, under her grandmother's maiden name so that the Russian mob couldn't find her. She couldn't raise a baby there. But it was Bucky's baby and if it had his eyes .... Lacey opened her banking app and looked at her bank balance. The property had sold quickly, bought by a man who wanted to build a golf resort and paid a premium for the place, even though someone had broken in and trashed the insides. She could buy a house anywhere she wanted but she was afraid of being found if she did. Closing her app she opened her contacts and looked at the one for Agent Jones. She wanted to trust him so badly but he had hung her out to dry when she told him about the flash drive. A story on the TV caught her attention and she turned up the sound. It was about the Avengers. Captain America, Steve Rogers, was being interviewed about the day he fought the Winter Soldier at the Triskelion and almost died. They pressed him repeatedly about Bucky Barnes until he got angry and looked at the reporter.

"Bucky Barnes served his country in World War II and fell while in action," he said angrily. "He was taken as a POW by HYDRA, tortured, brainwashed and turned into a weapon. When I fought him he could have killed me but he began to remember who we were to each other and he saved my life. He needs to be brought in and be treated for his torture, then rehabilitated back into society. I will fight every minute for the rest of my life for Bucky."

He continued to glare at the reporter until they stopped recording. Lacey took a deep breath. Maybe he was someone she could ask for help and she impulsively booked a plane ticket to New York on her phone. Somehow she was going to talk to Steve Rogers, even if she had to camp out in front of Stark Tower to do it. The next morning she packed an overnight bag and hailed a cab to the airport. She checked in, using her real ID, and the counter agent looked at her.

"Ma'am, could you please stand aside?" she said quietly. "You have been flagged and someone is coming to speak to you."

"I need to get on this flight," insisted Lacey.

"We will do our best ma'am but it is important that you see this individual first," said the agent, apologetically.

A security guard appeared and Lacey sighed, stepping aside. He escorted her to an office behind the security station and opened a door for her to wait in a room. Five minutes later Agent Jones walked in and Lacey turned away from him in distaste.

"Don't do that," he said testily. "I am trying to help you but it was hard when we didn't know where you were. You booked a flight last night for New York and we waited for you to show up today. Are you meeting Bucky Barnes there?"

"Are you kidding me?" she said, looking at him with disgust. "You think I'm meeting him? I haven't seen him since the day the Russians tried to get the flash drive. I haven't heard from him either."

"Why did you sell your house then?" he asked. "Making a little nest egg to support both of you when you meet up with him again?"

"I am not meeting up with him again," said Lacey angrily. "Why don't you believe me? Bucky told me to sell up so the Russians couldn't find me again. Considering the leak that is likely in the FBI I thought it was good advice and I took it. You did know someone came to the house after I left and went through it? Good thing the buyer wanted the property and not the house."

"Then why go to New York?" he asked, looking at her intently. "What was so important that you had to get there?"

"I wanted to talk to Steve Rogers," she snapped. "You happy? I wanted to tell him that I had encountered Bucky. Then I was going to ask his help in finding a safe place for me to live. What would be safer than living with the Avengers?"

He stared at her and she stared right back at him, fed up with his fixation on Bucky. "That's it?" he asked. "You just figured you could walk up to Stark Tower, ask to see Steve Rogers and they would welcome you with open arms?"

"I'm an ordinary person who has had an extraordinary month since my brother was killed," she replied. "I'm not a criminal genius. It seemed like a good idea at the time. By the way, how goes the investigation into my brother's murder?"

Jones sighed. "I'm not the enemy," he declared. "You have all this anger towards me and I really don't know why. If you say you haven't heard from Bucky then I'll have to believe you. He's still wanted and there is still a shoot to kill order on him." He put up his hand when Lacey began to protest. "I told the CIA how he helped us arrest four heavies in the Russian mob but they dismissed it outright. The flash drive proved your brother's innocence and our forensic accountants are still examining it to determine where the money is." Jones sat back and looked at her again as if deciding his next course of action. She tried her best to ignore him.

"I'm going to give you my personal phone number," he said, taking a card out of his wallet and writing on it. "You were right to be angry at me for not coming for the flash drive sooner. I was under orders at the time and it did endanger your life. For that I am sorry, truly sorry. For what it's worth I think asking Steve Rogers for help is a good idea. You are still at risk from the mob because they likely think your brother told you more than he did. I'm going to escort you to your flight and when you get off the plane in New York there will be an agent who will pick you up and drive you to Stark Tower. His name is Edgar Rodriguez and this is what he looks like." Jones showed her a picture from his phone. "He will set up the meet with Steve Rogers. Whatever happens after that is between you two. Good luck and I do mean it."

The man was as good as his word, walking Lacey to the gate where they were holding the flight for her. When she came off the jet Agent Rodriguez was waiting for her and he drove her straight to Stark Tower, walking her inside to the security station and identifying her as Lacey Williams. A young woman came out of the secure area, greeted her and asked Lacey to come with her to the elevator. As they went up Lacey became nauseous and asked for a washroom so she could vomit. The woman looked at her strangely but showed her to a very well appointed one when the elevator stopped, where Lacey promptly threw up. After rinsing her mouth Lacey thanked her for her patience and followed her to a lounge area where Steve Rogers and Tony Stark were sitting on stools, talking. Both men held out their hands to shake hers and invited her to sit on a sofa while they sat across from her.

"Miss Williams," said Steve. "How can I help you?"

"I saw you on TV last night, sticking up for Bucky Barnes," she said, looking nervously at Tony Stark as she spoke. "I was with him just over a month ago." Both Steve and Tony became very interested. "I found him, injured in my garage. He said he had been cornered by HYDRA here in New York, shot in the leg, had to jump into the Hudson River and swim to Staten Island. My home, at that time, was in Delaware. He stayed with me for a short time, helped me with some repairs to the house then saved my life when some Russian mobsters came to find a flash drive left there by my brother. He was found dead in his car, murdered just after Bucky showed up."

"So, you're just here to update us on Barnes whereabouts?" asked Tony. "Do you know where he is now?"

"No, he left after telling me to call the FBI to pick up the four mobsters," she said. "He was trying to stow away on a container ship to Europe out of either Baltimore or Philadelphia. Whether he did or not is unknown to me."

"I don't understand," said Steve. "You could have called with this information. Why did you want to see me in person?"

"Because I don't know who else to trust," said Lacey, as tears started forming and her throat constricted. "You see, we slept together. I was on the pill and Bucky said he believed he was sterile from everything HYDRA did to him, but I started throwing up a few days ago. I'm pregnant, with Bucky's baby. I took three over the counter pregnancy tests and they all confirmed it. If HYDRA or even the CIA find out I'm afraid they'll come looking for me and the baby."

Both men sat there, their mouths open, then they looked at each other. "Can you prove it's Barnes?" asked Tony, and Steve glared at him. "I know how that sounds and I'm sorry for saying it but how do we know you're not some fortune hunter?"

"Because I already have half a million in the bank after I sold my home to some resort developer, in the event more Russians showed up," began Lacey. "I also have this." She pulled her copy of Pride and Prejudice out and brought out the origami heart, handing it to Steve. "He left this for me. I figured you, of all people, would recognize his handwriting."

Steve looked at it and stood up, looking at it again. He handed it to Tony and walked around considering everything that Lacey had just told him.

"Barnes doesn't know about the baby," stated Tony.

"No, I haven't heard from him since he left," said Lacey. "The message on that heart sounded pretty final to me and I've accepted that. I'm just more concerned about protecting the baby from those who would use him to find Bucky and arrest him."

"They might also want to study the baby," mused Tony to Steve. "A super soldier baby. Bruce thinks the genetic changes from both of your serums would be passed on to any children you have. I know lots of people in the CIA who would want to get their hands on that baby."

"So would HYDRA," said Steve, "especially if they could use it to lure Bucky back."

"Even though he's not in their hands Bucky said HYDRA can still control him," stated Lacey. "A sequence of activation words would make him compliant and he would obey any order they gave him. One of the Russians said the same thing. He hasn't killed since he saved you from drowning, for what it's worth."

"Tony, we need to locate Bucky and bring him in," insisted Steve. "As long as HYDRA has those activation words to control him he's a danger to himself and to us. But if we bring him in we can treat him. At the very least we need to keep Miss Williams here so that no one finds out she's carrying Bucky's baby."

"Who's carrying Bucky's baby?" said a female voice, belonging to Natasha Romanoff, who had just walked in.

It was Tony's turn to glare at Steve. "Natasha, meet Lacey Williams," said Tony. "She claims to be carrying Bucky Barnes' baby. How far along are you?"

"A month," replied Lacey. "I don't claim ... I am carrying his baby."

Natasha sat down and looked critically at Lacey. "How equipped is Bucky?" she asked bluntly of her. Steve and Tony both looked at her in almost horror. She looked back with feigned innocence. "What? He was involved in Red Room training and there were stories."

Lacey turned red in the face. "Very," she admitted as she glanced nervously at the two men. "The biggest I've ever seen. He knew how to use it as well. It was the best sex I've ever had, not that I've had a lot of experience."

"She's been with him," declared Natasha. "I'm sure Bruce can run some test to determine the father. We still have blood samples from Bucky, right? He was supposed to be sterile, they called him...."

"The dud of a stud, he told me," said Lacey.

Natasha tilted her head, a slight smile on her face. "They were filling him with all sorts of chemicals tweaking his physique, among other things," she explained to the men. "Those of us in the Red Room figured all the chemicals they were pumping into him while trying to come up with the perfect assassin probably made him sterile. They wanted him to breed with several Red Room candidates who hadn't had their graduation ceremony. Didn't stop Bucky trying, when he was the soldier of course. When he was not under control he refused to take advantage. Another reason he was a disappointment to them in that regard." She looked at Steve then at Tony. "Lacey is going to live here, right? If HYDRA or the CIA find out about the baby they'll come looking for her. We need to protect them both."

"Alright, she can live here," decided Tony. "But other than Bruce no one else needs to know." They agreed. "Miss Williams, where are you living now? We can provide assistance to you to pack up your things and bring them here."

"Philadelphia, in a furnished bachelor apartment," she replied. "I rented it under my grandmother's maiden name. I just have clothes, books, LPs and and some personal items."

"I'll help you," said Natasha. "It will give us a chance to get acquainted better. Which room, Tony?"

"Are you a morning person or an evening person, Miss Williams?" asked Tony.

"Morning, I guess," replied Lacey. "Just call me Lacey. My mom was a big fan of Cagney and Lacey."

"Give her one facing east, so Lacey can see the morning sun," decided Tony. "You can use the quinjet to fly there and take some help to carry Lacey's things. No point putting her on a commercial jet again when we can get it done faster."

Ninety minutes later Natasha, Clint, and Lacey had packed her things. Clint was only told that Lacey had run afoul of the Russian mob and the FBI couldn't guarantee her safety. He brought a dolly to load the boxes and quietly took load after load to the quinjet. Lacey wrote her notice and dropped it off under the door of the building manager. With Clint at the quinjet controls they were soon back at Stark Tower. He brought all the boxes and records on the dolly to Lacey's quarters then left Natasha to help unpack Lacey's things. Natasha looked at the selection of clothing and mentioned that she had to take Lacey shopping for some new clothes, which Lacey declined since she would need maternity clothes soon enough. Then Natasha saw the origami heart when Lacey took it out of the Pride and Prejudice copy.

"Bucky made this for you?" she asked. "It looks like he never expected to see you again. Surely, you're going to tell him about the baby?"

"I don't know where he is," said Lacey. "We only had the one night, so it's not like we had a commitment going into it. If they find him then I'll consider it but I don't think I will ever see him again."

"Then why have his baby?" asked Natasha gently.

"Because I can't stop thinking of him," admitted Lacey, a tear streaming down her cheek. "If the baby has his eyes then a part of him will always be with me and that will have to be good enough."

"They'll find him," said Natasha, putting her arm around Lacey's shoulders. "I'm sure of it."

Lacey smiled, hoping that Natasha was right. When she joined them all for dinner Tony introduced her as someone who needed protection from the Russian mob. Since the FBI seemed to have a leak they had been asked to keep her in Stark Tower for her own safety. He also announced that she was pregnant but that the father was missing. Everyone was kind to her but she did notice Tony talking privately to another dark haired man with both of them looking at her. She assumed it was about the baby and hoped that she could prove she was carrying Bucky's baby.

Chapter 4>>

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[jtargaryen18]

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 25

Part 25: Just Breathe

Series Masterlist

Words: 4.3k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mob crime families, activities, domestic violence, and infidelity. Firearm use, explicit sex, missing persons, and deception. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

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

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

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

Sunday was overcast with rain streaking the windows. Today felt calmer. And calm was all you could ask for after the last two days.

Once again, Steve was gone when you woke up. You knew he had a lot on his mind just now. There was so much to deal with.

After you showered and dressed, you headed downstairs for the kitchen. You were expecting to find Yelena’s breakfast ready for you to carry up to her.

As it was, you heard the conversation before you walked into the kitchen. When you entered the room, you found Dyson and Yelena having breakfast at the table where poker games were held. The bruising on Yelena’s face looked worse today. Dyson’s arm was still in a sling, and he looked tired. But there they both sat eating and talking.

The conversation didn’t halt when they saw you coming, and that made you happy.

“I’m glad you got a good report,” Dyson told Yelena as he took a sip of his coffee.

“Good morning,” Luca said as he motioned for you to sit with them, busy at the stove.

“What did doc have to say to you?” Yelena asked.

“Nothing good,” Dyson grumbled. “My elbow is sprained and that will take a while to heal. But he’s also on my ass about my blood pressure. Wants me to take meds for it and alter my diet. Start exercising.”

“He’s just looking out for you,” Yelena replied when Luca placed your breakfast in front of you. A fluffy omelet with fresh spinach, some fruit, and a tall glass of orange juice. “What he suggests is not so bad.”

Dyson scoffed. “I get all the exercise I need trying to keep up with you girls. And now that Nat’s here…”

You couldn’t keep the smile off your face at that thought. “We’re also probably the reason your blood pressure is high.”

“Nah.” Dyson shook his head. “There’s a lot going on. The transition. It will pass. All this food? Yeah, that might kill me.”

Luca held up a middle finger but didn’t turn away from his cut work. “Best cooking in the world and you know it. You, my friend, need to learn moderation. You eat too damn much.”

Dyson shook his head but didn’t argue.

“What did the doctor say about you?” you asked Yelena.

Your friend shrugged. “He wants me to come in and get a scan tomorrow. Make sure there are no fractures. I told him I’m fine.”

That had you and Dyson staring her down.

“You should do that,” you told her. “Just to be safe.”

“Yeah, you should,” Dyson said meaningfully. “It’s quick. The hospital is only half an hour away.”

“With everything going on at the moment,” she replied, “I’ll pass. I’m fine.”

“If you’re worried about me, don’t. Clint and Scott will be here,” you assured her. “I’ll stay with Nat while you’re gone and make it easy. Okay?”

“I’ll go with you,” Dyson told her. “See? Matter is resolved.”

“Neal will be here too,” Luca added.

Dyson didn’t miss the face you pulled at that mention.

“You sure handled Bruce for me, Yelena.” You changed the subject.

Dyson grinned. “Yeah, she did. You did good, kid.”

You made a mental note of asking Yelena what happened there later. Banner was banished, but alive. How could you be sure he wouldn’t come back to create trouble for Nat? How could she rest and recover knowing he was still out there?

“Where’s Steve?” you asked as Scott rushed in through the kitchen door.

“Upstairs with Nat and Clint,” Dyson told you. “He’s sticking around today. Meeting with a couple of potential lawyers this afternoon.”

“How’s that going?” you had to ask. Now that Bruce was out of the picture, he’d need a replacement. When you were part of a crime syndicate, you couldn’t hire just any lawyer.

“He’s got a couple of good prospects,” Dyson explained. “There’s some Barber fellow who’s local. He’s got ties to a couple of the families. There also some guy named Murdock. I don’t know much about him.”

“He’s a good guy,” Luca joined in, moving to the side so Scott could pull something from one of the cabinets. “Blind but a damn good lawyer. I knew his father.”

When Scott turned, he held a vase of beautiful wildflowers in his hands.

“What you got there?” Dyson asked him, finishing up his toast.

“These are for you.” Scott placed them in front of Yelena who froze at the gesture. “Hope you’re feeling better.”

Slowly, Yelena nodded, not taking her gaze off those flowers. “Thank you.”

It was awkward then. The kitchen went silent.

Scott sighed. “I’ll bring the groceries in.”

***

The sweet sound of Nat’s laughter reached you as you knocked at her door. When the door opened, you were greeted by the subtle notes of your husband’s cologne. Peering up at him you smiled.

“Hi, Sweetheart.” He kissed your lips before moving back to allow you in.

With a collection of pillows behind her, Nat was in the center of her bed. She still looked small, but she was smiling, and you would count that as a win. Clint was gathering up the breakfast trays, moving them off to the side as you took a seat on the side of her bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“One day at a time, right?” she told you, smiling. “How are Dyson and Yelena?”

“Great,” you said. It wasn’t strictly the truth but that’s what either of them would want you to say. “Just enjoying a quiet day.”

“That’s for damn sure,” Clint told you, coming back for Nat’s tray that was next to you and moving it off the end of her bed.

There was a folded newspaper under it. Idly, your gaze roamed over the section of the front page in front of you.

“Huh, I forgot all about my paper,” Clint mused.

There was color photo of a young woman there beneath the headline, ‘Missing Woman.’ You’d never seen her before. But something about that photograph gave you a real sense of foreboding. You grabbed it, picking it up so you could read the article in one of Boston’s top newspapers.

“Oh, my God,” Nat’s trouble tone penetrated your thoughts. “I know her.”

Her green-eyed gaze met yours then returned to the picture on the paper in your hands.

“What’s happening?” Steve wandered back over to the two of you, his attention on the same paper.

“I went to school with her sister,” Nat told him, pointing to the picture. “She works at the donut shop on Brightville.”

Gently, your husband took the paper from your hands. The expression on his face was grave. Clint now stood on the other side of the bed, laser-focused on Steve as he hurriedly read the accompanying article.

Something told you that the donut shop in question was on Steve’s turf. Did the woman’s disappearance have anything to do with the war brewing between the families? Was it just another challenge to Steve’s leadership?

Was Barnes responsible?

“Ladies, if you’ll excuse us,” Steve told the two of you, returning the paper to you. He leaned down to brush a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll see you later,” he whispered in your ear.

Clint followed him out of the room.

“I’m sorry,” you told Nat. “I hope she turns up safe.”

Nat didn’t look so convinced. “Me too. She’s a sweet girl.”

Your eyes skimmed the article now. It didn’t take you long to realize something.

“She went missing the same night Hansen was here,” you said aloud. That sense of foreboding growing in your chest.

“That’s not the part that bothers me most,” Nat said quietly. “She looks just like you.”

You shivered, feeling cold.

Poor Nat had enough to deal with. You didn’t want to add to it. Dropping the paper into your lap, you returned your attention to her.

“I’m glad you and Steve are talking.”

“Me too,” she admitted. “He says I’m never going back to Bruce. It feels like… a wonderful dream. I’m just so afraid I’m going to wake up.”

“It’s real,” you said with feeling.

“Clint believes him. And there’s so much to deal with but Steve says there’s no hurry,” she explained.

“He’s right. You can stay here as long as you need to. This is your home.”

“He says he’ll help us. Once he has a new lawyer, he said I can start divorce proceedings. Once a year has passed, I can get a divorce on the grounds of spousal desertion.”

It was too bad Nat couldn’t just be a widow. There was some reason why the bastard’s life had been spared…

“You have a lot to do with this,” she told you. “I know marrying my brother wasn’t exactly what you wanted but I’m glad you did. He’s a better man for it.”

You didn’t know about that.

“One day,” she said slowly, “I hope you’ll be glad you married him. I hope you’ll be happy.”

Your heart squeezed at her words. You wanted to be happy. There were times since you’d become Steve’s wife that you were.

But it all came at the cost of your freedom and your mind still waged that war every day. It wasn’t just a case of an arranged marriage with the two of you working through the awkward beginning of a relationship like a rom-com. There was danger here, very real danger from a world of crime you’d been born into and couldn’t seem to escape.

“We’ll see,” you told her gently. “Don’t worry about that right now. You need to rest and get better.”

***

“What happened with Banner?” you asked the minute you thought everyone else was out of earshot.

Yelena worked at loading bullets into the clip in her hand.

“Your husband allowed him to live,” she said after a moment. “He didn’t want to.”

“What?”

“Banner has been your husband’s consiglieri for a few years now, yes?”

“That’s my understanding.”

“He knows a good deal about your husband’s business along with that of the other families,” she explained.

“He can’t talk if he’s dead,” you reasoned.

Cocking a brow at you, she smiled. “That’s true. But he had a will written…”

You shook your head. “So what? If something happens to him… Seriously? Who has it? Paulina and her sister? Because we could do something about that.”

Yelena chuckled. “It’s not that easy. It’s with a member of his family. His brother is a US senator with eyes on the White House.”

“Does the senator know what his brother does for a living?” you wanted to know.

“I’m certain he does. But if that in any way posed a threat to the brother as a politician…”

You understood. It could have severe consequences. Damn.

It wasn’t fair. Banner just got to skip to another city and start over?

“Is he taking Paulina and Katerina with him?”

Yelena shook her head, laughing.

“Are you sure you feel up to this?”

Yelena picked up the handgun from the table she’d carried out. You watched as she slapped the clip into place.

“This is the third time you’ve asked me this,” Yelena pointed out, smiling. “I even agreed to go for the scan tomorrow because you wanted me to. I’ll be fine.”

Yelena handed the bigger handgun to you handle first. You carefully took it from her, just like she taught you. Careful to keep your finger off the trigger. It was strange how comfortable you’d become in handling guns over the last few weeks.

“Now, this is a bit stronger than you’re used to,” Yelena explained. “This is a 9mm. It’s heavier than your .22 and it has a stronger kick.”

It was heavy in your hand, the metal cold.

“Do you think I’m ready for something stronger?” you asked.

Yelena grinned. “You shot Hansen with Dyson’s .38, I would think so.”

“That was the first time I shot anything.” You held it up, aiming at the target. “How far away is it?”

“Twenty-five feet,” Yelena explained.

“It felt so strange,” you told her, remembering when you pointed the gun at Lloyd Hansen. “It felt even stranger when I pulled the trigger, you know?”

“That’s good,” Steve said. Neither of you had noticed him walking out into the area behind the house where Yelena had set up a makeshift practice site. “You should always remember when there’s a gun in your hand, you are wielding something that can take a life.”

Still holding the gun carefully, you turned to face your husband. “I thought you were going to be meeting with lawyers all evening.”

Steve smiled. “Not all evening.”

You let him take the gun away from you, assuming it was the end of your lesson. And it was a shame because Yelena went to great lengths to set this up, including extra men watching the area around you. It was your first time at target practice.

Steve checked the clip, the chamber before handing it back to you.

To Yelena, he said, “Move that up to about fifteen feet.”

Yelena nodded but as she took the first step, Scott came rushing past all three of you, reaching the target first. When Yelena paused, he grinned at her.

“If you want to show me where to move it,” he told her, “I’d be glad to.”

Yelena rolled her eyes but estimated where it should be moved, ten feet closer. Scott was eager to move it for her, getting it done quickly. He then came back to your group.

Steve moved behind you. “Show me your stance,” he said quietly.

You did as Yelena taught you, putting in the earplugs hanging around your neck. You distributed your weight to keep your balance, held the gun in both hands without tea-cupping it. Your arms weren’t straight, and you leaned forward in preparation.

“Good.” Steve was close behind you. “Now, take a shot.”

“Did you move the target for a reason?” you asked without moving.

“I did,” he said. “It’s how my father taught me.”

It wasn’t the answer you expected. It was so much better.

You pulled the trigger, the recoil stronger than your .22 but not as much as Dyson’s gun. You hit the outermost ring on the paper target Yelena taped up on the stand she’d put together. Your second shot hit a couple inches closer to the middle. The third missed the target entirely.

“Hold up,” Steve told you, placing a careful hand on your shoulder. “Pay attention to your breathing.”

“My breathing?”

Steve’s body moved close behind yours, his chest pressed to your back. He took the gun from your hands, aiming it with just his right. His lips were at your ear.

“Take a deep breath,” he whispered, making you shiver.

You did as he asked, breathing in with him.

“Now, exhale,” he instructed.

You exhaled with him. In the same beat, Steve pulled the trigger. The shot hit just outside the innermost ring.

“Take a deep breath,” he said again. You did. “And exhale.”

Again, just after you started the exhale, he took a shot. The second one was dead center.

Steve handled the gun so comfortably, with such ease. Would you ever be able to do that?

Handing it back to you, Steve stayed close behind you.

“Your turn,” he whispered. “Take a deep breath.” You did. “And exhale.”

As you exhaled, you squeezed the trigger. The shot hit just outside the innermost ring, pushing your excitement higher.

“Again,” Steve ordered.

Keeping your eyes on the target, you took a deep breath. You pulled the trigger on the exhale. This time your shot hit inside the innermost circle.

“Give me one more,” he whispered.

You’d heard that before. But when he said it to you in private, he meant something different entirely.

You took a deep breath. On the exhale you took another shot. It wasn’t dead center, but it was close.

“You’re getting it,” Steve sounded encouraging.

A quick glance at Yelena showed her smiling as she watched, standing next to Scott. She looked proud.

“Finish the clip,” Steve instructed. “Then you’re going to reload.”

***

At the end of dinner, Steve had a phone call to take, and he dashed off to his study.

You headed up to your bedroom, your arms, and shoulders sore from your target practice. You were still trying to get your mind around the fact that your husband didn’t put an end to your learning to fire a gun. No, he actually helped you. Was it because you shot Hansen? Or was he just humoring you?

You’d danced earlier too. Stretching your back, you decided a soak in the whirlpool tub was required.

Filling up the tub, you headed back into the bedroom, sitting on the end of the bed to pull off your shoes. Standing, you peeled off your jeans and left them there in the floor. You peeled off your sweater, wincing at the pull in your muscles from the movements.

Reaching behind you, you unhooked your bra just as you reached the tub. Dropping it to the floor, you turned to the small closet in the bathroom. Some Epsom salts would be just the thing for your bath. You added some to the water, started the jets, and sighed happily.

You’d just hooked your thumbs in your panties on each side when his deep voice cut the quiet of the bathroom.

“Slowly.”

You shivered, feeling some of that ache and fatigue fading as you smiled at him over your shoulder. You took them off slowly, alright. You teased him with the movements, bending over as you did until the garment pooled around your ankles.

You danced out of them, putting on a show for him as you climbed into the tub.

When Steve peeled off his deep red sweater, just as you did moments ago, you were pretty sure you didn’t look that good doing it. Toeing off his shoes, he approached the tub. You got an eyeful of all those muscles, the intricate web of tattoos stretched over them.

His gaze roamed over you too. The bubbling water did little to hide any of you and your breasts were just above the water.

When his hands went for the front of his jeans, you held up a hand. “What do you think you’re doing?” you asked playfully. “This is my bath.”

There was mischief in those blue eyes and his smile was wicked. He paused, but then he pulled open those jeans, pushing them down along with the black boxers beneath. His cock bobbed with his movements, red and ready.

“Are you ever going to take no for an answer?” you shot at him as he climbed into the tub with you, sitting next to you in the water.

Steve didn’t miss your meaning.

“Maybe I earned that,” he told you. “Maybe if I did a better job of teaching you, seducing you, your answer would be yes.”

“I was surprised that you came out to help me with target practice,” you admitted.

“I could have shut it down,” he said. “But that wouldn’t have stopped you, I know… So who can’t take no for an answer?”

You were about to argue that point when he grabbed you by your hips. Steve lifted you, placing you on his lap in the water. Bracing his feet, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back to rest against him, your back to his chest.

It felt wonderful.

Okay, you’d play along.

Steve’s lips chained kisses over your neck and shoulders, the soft whisper of his beard only made it more enticing. His hands slid all over you, teasing your breasts until your nipples tightened, sliding down your belly to explore between your thighs.

“You already taught me today,” you managed, loving the attention he was lavishing on you.

His lips came up to your ear. “How about something else?” he whispered.

“Something new?” you whispered.

“Not entirely,” he said, nudging his heated length up against your ass. “You seemed to like riding me.”

Oh, you had.

“Want to try it another way?”

Steve sat with you in one corner of the enormous tub. Taking each of your hands, he guided you to grab the edge of the tub on either side. He shifted under you, positioning himself. When his hands returned to your hips, he carefully guided you down, filling you with his cock.

It took your breath away and you grip tightened on the edges of the tub as you slid all the way down and he stretched you. His groan behind you was an indecent sound. Holding you there, he gave you time to adjust there in the warm, bubbling water.

When you started moving on him, his hands stayed on you. You did love being able to move at your own pace, to shift until you worked him against all the spaces inside you that drove you wild. You moved slowly at first, up and down, his hands keeping you steady but not taking over yet.

“Breathe.” His voice was low. He nipped at your shoulder with his teeth.

He felt so good, your walls clenching around him as you rode him. The delicate ache at your clit had you shifting so you could move one of your hands to do something about that. But no sooner had you lifted that hand, Steve slapped your ass hard.

“Didn’t say you could let go,” he said roughly.

“But Steve…” You put your hand back.

“What do you need?” He slapped your ass again when you paused. “Keep moving.”

You did, feeling pressure building within you. You were getting closer, but you needed more…

“What does my princess need?” Steve purred as you kept sliding up and down on him, harder now. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

“Need to come,” you pleaded, working yourself on him faster. Holding on with your hands gripping the tub behind you.

“What else?” Steve sounded a little winded himself now. “Tell me…”

You sped up, trying to reach release without that added stimulation. But his hands on your hips slowed you down and he was stronger than you.

The whining sound you made sounded pitiful to your own ears. “I’m close… please…”

“What do you need?” he demanded.

“To come.”

“I’ll stop,” he warned you.

Tears stung the backs of your eyes. Your pussy was clamped around him. Your legs were shaking, and you were pushing off from your toes. Every inch of you was tight, on edge.

“Touch me.” You were desperate. “Please.”

One of his hands slid around to cup you as he allowed you to move freely again, his fingers zeroing in on that delicate target. Oh God, he knew what he was doing too. Using just the right amount of pressure, he worked that button as you moved frantically, fighting to get off.

When you finally went over that edge, you cried out. Truly porno-worthy sounds. Release shook you, tore you apart. But when those spasms faded, you were slumped back against your husband, his arms around you and his breath as ragged as yours.

His cock was still iron-hard inside you, jerking as if to bring that to your attention.

“Come here,” he whispered, pulling himself free of you and urging you to turn and face him. When your knees were situated on either side of him, he impaled you again. This time, his arms were around you, holding you.

Your inner walls were still quivering around him, and you still fought to breathe but it felt… heavenly. You moved together, the water bubbling and sloshing with your motions. Steve stole kisses from your lips, teasing your nipples with his tongue.

“You look so gorgeous when you come for me,” he panted against your skin. “So beautiful.”

Your fingers gripped in his hair, and you rode him as much as he was pressing up into you. It was an erotic dance but one you couldn’t hold long. You were already back on the edge, your body tightening and bracing for the storm.

Your husband was close too. You knew when his hands again grabbed your hips, urging you to move faster on him, using his strength to help you. Watching those heavily muscled arms work while his lips teased your breasts pushed you over, had you wailing as the next wave overtook you.

Steve’s guttural cries blended with yours as you shook together, holding each other in the water. When the earth stopped moving, you held onto him, your head on his shoulder. Your hearts beat together.

Steve’s fingers traced trails over you skin, making you shiver.

“You’re a good shot,” he said finally. “You take it seriously.”

Lifting your head finally, you glanced into his eyes. “Does this mean I can continue learning to use a gun?”

His gaze on you was speculative but finally he nodded. “I don’t like that you couldn’t tell me. I found out about it when you shot Hansen… I don’t want our relationship to be like that. I want you to feel safe in telling me anything.”

You swallowed hard.

Should you tell him about your “manicure appointment?” The fact that Neal told Steve the woman looked familiar put the fear of God in you. Would he understand why you agreed to have Yelena bring a nurse here to give you a contraceptive shot?

Or would he be furious? Would he fire Yelena?

Taking a deep breath, you decided against saying anything. Instead, you nodded, kissing him softly. When that kiss ended, Steve looked content. Happy.

It was a decision you’d end up regretting.

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