anna

Sam sighed, but the argument was cut short as a door opened, and a tall lady with grey hair looked at them. “Agents?”

The office they stepped into was large, decorated sparsely with modern furniture, and a large flag behind her desk read “Gellar Gators, Go, Go, Go!” with a cartoon alligator in a football helmet. As Principal Matthews took her seat, both men turned to face her, though Dean was still inspecting everything.

“I assume this is about the recent attacks,” she started, folding her hands in front of her on the desk. “I’m not sure what I can tell you that I haven’t already told the police. They took all our security camera footage and -”

“Nothing to be seen,” Dean interjected with a nod, pulling out a notepad and a pen. “We’re just following up, seeing if anyone remembered anything different. Maybe something they didn’t want to tell the police?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” the principal asked, obviously confused. “I know some of the other children were saying it was a monster, but we all know how children can be.”

“We’re just trying to make sure no one else gets hurt,” Dean continued, keeping his tone gentle. “You’re aware that there was another victim last night?”

“Danny Elderman, yes, I’ve been told,” she murmured, shaking her head sadly. “His mother said he would make a full recovery though.”

Sam dragged his hand out of his pocket, gesticulating slightly. “All the attacks took place on school grounds, Principal Matthews.”

“And the police searched the whole place,” she defended. “I can assure you, Agents, we are taking this seriously. The students have all been instructed to report anything strange and there’s a curfew in effect.”

The brothers shared a look, realizing that this wasn’t going to get them anywhere. Dean cleared his throat, stepping a little closer. “We’re gonna stick around, speak to some of the students, if that’s okay.”

Principal Matthews nodded, gesturing to the door. “Of course, anything to help.”

Turning on his heel to head for the door, Dean’s gaze caught sight of a board, showcasing the faculty members with photographs and a brief description of their position. A single face jumped out at him, and for a moment, he was seventeen again. He froze, staring at it, before Sam’s fist jammed into his back and forced him to keep going.

Once outside, he stopped entirely, spinning around to face his brother. “Did you see her?” he asked, feeling a little breathless.

Sam’s face scrunched up. “Who?”

“On the faculty board. Miss. Y/L/N -” He laughed, shaking his head. “Outta all of the schools in the country -”

“Wait a minute,” Sam mumbled, remembering the name. “The math teacher from Luther High? That Miss. Y/L/N?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied excitedly. “Wonder if she remembers me?”

Sam snorted, rolling his eyes. “She’s probably married with kids by now, Dean, it’s been nearly twenty years. It might not even be her.”

“It was.”

“Fine, say it is. What are you gonna do? Go tell her you had a crush on her when you were a kid?”

Dean pulled a face, irritated by his brother’s attitude. “Not hurting anyone if I just say hi,” he muttered bitterly, “and I didn’t say you had to come with me.”

Sam seemed glad of that, at least, and decided to leave Dean to make an ass of himself alone. The gentleman at the desk was more than happy to provide the “agent” with the classroom he needed, and as Dean strolled down the corridor towards her class, his mind began to wander back to 1996, and his three months in Dawney, Montana.

It wasn’t that he hated school, he just didn’t see the point of it, not when there were more important things in the world, like hunting. His dad had left them in this crummy mountain town while he tracked something through the forest, and Dean didn’t know how long they were going to be there. Attending high school was at least a way to pass the time, and it kept social services off their backs, as well as providing a useful tool for keeping an eye on his troublesome younger brother.

Sam was happy to be starting school again. Summer had dragged, and they’d been at loggerheads in their small rented room, with little to do to occupy the time. Luther High School wasn’t a huge campus, and it had barely four hundred students, so Dean was relieved of the pressure of trying to make friends when he didn’t want to.

The first day back, and he’d already managed to irritate the science teacher and the coach. His third period was math, and when the teacher walked in, Dean wasn’t sure she was a teacher at all. She was young, maybe a few years older than him, and she looked nervous as hell as she addressed her only senior class of thirty.

“Okay, good afternoon, everyone,” she greeted, dropping her stacks of paper onto the desk. “Hope you’re not too bored of learning after the summer break already.”

A kid in the middle raised his hand, and she pointed at him, waiting for his question. “Are you really our teacher?” he snorted. “You don’t look much older than us.”

She chuckled, tugging her blouse back down where it had ridden up. “I am definitely your teacher. Well, I’m a student intern. I’ve got a degree, I’m just working towards certification now.” Picking up a piece of chalk, she turned to the board and wrote her name out in neat cursive before turning back. “I’m Miss. Y/L/N.”

Another hand went up but this kid didn’t wait for permission. “How old are you?”

Miss. Y/L/N smiled. “Now didn’t your mama tell you it’s rude to ask a lady her age?” she chided. “If you really need to know, I’m twenty-two. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll hate me as much as if I was fifty,” she joked, picking up a sheet. “Anyway, we’re here to learn math, so why don’t you open your books to page thirty-three and we’ll crack on with some calculus. You’re gonna have to bear with me - they told me I was teaching ninth and tenth, so I wasn’t exactly prepared.”

In any other situation, Dean was sure he would have gone out of his way to make this poor woman’s life hell. He wasn’t a model student, and never had any intention of being one, but for some reason, as he watched Miss. Y/L/N fluster over her notes, apologizing repeatedly for the slightest thing, he didn’t feel the urge to be his usual irritating self. Instead, he kept his head down - when he wasn’t looking at her - and worked quietly, though he was certain he was getting every answer wrong.

The class ended, and the other students rushed to get out and onto their last lesson of the day, but as Dean went for the door, Miss. Y/L/N stopped him. He froze when she called his name, suddenly panicked that she had caught him staring, but the gentle smile on her face didn’t scream “trouble”.

“Dean,” she said softly, “sorry, I didn’t want to pick on you in front of everyone.”

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked carefully, the ever present concern of social services in the back of his mind.

“No!” she insisted, laughing lightly. “I was told you were new here, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t have trouble following. These guys can pick up where they left off last year, but sometimes high schools don’t always follow the same plan, y’know?”

“Oh, uh,” he scratched his head nervously, “I’m fine, y’know. It’s math.”

A bright smile lit up her face, and his heart did a funny fluttering thing that left him slightly breathless. “That’s great,” she enthused. “If you have any problems, feel free to come to me, okay?”

He smiled back, struggling to contain the boyish crow that wanted to burst out of him at her attention. “Sure,” he replied through gritted teeth, “thanks.”

It didn’t feel like he could get out of there quick enough. His last period was a blur, passing by him as he sat at the back, unnoticed by the graying gentleman trying to teach them about ancient Europe. Miss. Y/L/N’s smile haunted his thoughts, and he couldn’t focus on anything, even when he met Sam at the school gate.

“Dean?”

His brother’s voice snapped him out of his stupor as they walked home. “What?” he mumbled, staring over at him cluelessly.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Dean shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

“You weren’t paying attention to anything I just said.”

Another shrug. “Was it important?”

Sam scowled. “No, but -”

He groaned, picking up speed a little. “C’mon, man, I’m tired.”

There was a small hope that his newfound level of infatuation with the opposite sex was only a fleeting thing, but when Miss. Y/L/N walked into class the next day wearing tight fitting pants with a red blouse, he knew it wasn’t. He’d had plenty of experience with girls his age, and though she wasn’t much older, he wasn’t sure his experience would lend him any favors.

The worst part was wanting to please her. He actually paid attention, making an effort to understand the numbers instead of half-assing it like he’d done his entire life.

Confiding in Sam after school didn’t leave him with any more hope either.

“Dean, she’s a teacher.”

“She’s a student teacher.”

“I don’t think that matters much,” his brother denied. “Besides, aren’t we supposed to stay out of trouble? Social services aren’t gonna look the other way if you seduce a teacher.”

Dean grumbled unhappily. “I’m eighteen in a few months,” he complained.

“You really think we’ll be here then?” Sam asked, sadness in his voice. “We’ll be lucky if we’re still here for Halloween, Dean.”

“Guess I have to hope Dad comes to get us soon then,” he sighed.

John didn’t come back for them soon. He checked in every week, promising it wouldn’t be long, but weeks rolled into months, and Dean’s crush grew, developing into something his teenage heart wasn’t sure what to do with. Channeling his nervous energy into actually doing his work was landing him with good grades, and two months in, he brought home his first report card that didn’t include an “F”. Of course, only Sam was there to celebrate it, but he was a little proud of himself.

Two months into their tenure at Luther High, and one Wednesday after class, Miss. Y/L/N asked him to wait after class again. This period was the last of the day, so he didn’t rush, waiting until she’d cleared everyone out.

“I wanted to catch up,” she began, leaning against her desk and bracing her weight on her hands. “See how you were getting on.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, giving her an awkward smile. “Good, I guess,” he mumbled, the same nerves from their last chat reaching up into his throat to strangle him. He coughed lightly, shrugging. “It’s nice here.”

“Hmm,” she agreed, glancing out of the window. “It is. Not somewhere I’d wanna live forever though. What about you?” He shrugged, and she smiled gently. “I’ve read your file, Dean. Are you an army kid or -”

“My dad travels for work,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

“Can I ask what he does?”

He tensed, keeping his mouth shut, retreating to the safe behavior of brick walling it. Despite that instinct, there was an urge, something inside him telling him that she wouldn’t laugh at him or call child services, and it was getting harder to ignore as she eyeballed him for an answer.

She stood straight, folding her arms across her chest. “You’re a smart kid, Dean. You’ve shown that in your grades, that even with all the disruption, you’ve got a brain in there. Have you… have you considered what happens after school?”

He shrugged again. “The family business.”

“What does that mean?”

His heart thudded in his chest. “My dad, he…” Don’t do it, his father’s voice instructed sternly in his head. It never ends well. He swallowed again, trying to turn his voice to steel, to put her off like he had so many others. “He’ll be coming to get us soon. You’re wasting your time.”

“I don’t think I am,” she replied, ignoring the warning in his voice. “I don’t consider trying to help anyone to be a waste of time. And I feel like you might need some help. Even just - even just to talk to someone. Without judgment.”

An unattractive snort escaped him. “They all say that, sweetheart,” he advised her, the cockiness seeping out of him, “but that disappears when they hear what I gotta say.”

“Try me.”

The solidity of her challenge gave him pause, and he finally met her gaze, holding it for a few seconds. Even though he was significantly taller, she made him feel small, like she was seeing through him, and he shuddered, letting the guard drop.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “You’ll call some social worker. I’ve been through this before, and I’m not putting Sammy through that again.”

Miss. Y/L/N frowned, dropping her hands to her sides. “Your brother is Sammy, right?” He nodded. “I’ve had him for a couple classes. He’s a smart kid,” she paused, smiling, “just like his brother.” 

Dean watched her warily, feeling like prey on its back, belly exposed and vulnerable.

“The bonus of being a student teacher,” she continued, slowly walking to the door and closing it, “is I’m very good at missing things.” The lock clicked as she slid it into place, and she turned back to him. “Safe space, Dean. Whatever you need to get off your chest, I promise I won’t say a word to anyone.”

He stared at her, too terrified to move for a second. It wasn’t like his father was going to break the habit of a lifetime and build a life here, so telling her might not have many consequences, but then again, it was ingrained into him not to tell anyone about the family business.

Miss. Y/L/N waited, patiently, moving herself away from the door and back to her desk, giving him the space, and the exit, if he needed it.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” he finally asked softly, unwilling to meet her gaze just yet.

She shrugged. “I don’t not believe in them,” she replied. “I’ve never seen one myself.”

“And if I told you they are real? Like really real, and my dad kinda hunts them.” He rushed it out, still unable to look at her for fear of her reaction. “Other things too,” he whispered. “I’ve… I’ve seen things that… that give me nightmares.”

Her silence felt judgmental but when he eventually managed to look her in the eye, she was only staring at him with compassion. “That sounds terrifying,” she said quietly. “I can’t imagine anyone would sleep well with that knowledge.”

“Which is why I shouldn’t be telling you anything,” he growled, frustrated with himself. “Rule number one, don’t tell anyone what we do. And I went and broke it because -”

The abrupt end of his outburst made her frown. “Because?” she prompted, and he grunted, running a hand through his short hair. “Because?” she asked again, stepping closer.

“Because I like you,” he murmured, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Because you don’t look at me like I’m some kind of freak.” He turned away, embarrassed and ashamed, and ready to throw the towel in on the whole school thing.

Her hand touched his shoulder and he jumped, alert green eyes meeting hers in surprise. “I’m flattered,” she whispered, smiling gently. “And you’re not a freak. You’re a kid with a hell of a weight on his shoulders.”

It would have been lying to say he didn’t appreciate the validation. “I’m eighteen in January,” he muttered.

“Still illegal,” she chuckled. “Position of authority and all that.”

“I can assure you, I have no respect for authority,” he tried, turning on the charm, but it only made her giggle. The laughter didn’t hurt him, which was surprising, but he already knew he had no shot at her, legal or not.

“I’m not gonna pretend the thought of things being real isn’t terrifying,” she said slowly. “Obviously, I can’t relate. But I was seventeen not so long ago, and I remember how scary just regular life can be. You’re Sam's primary caregiver, right?”

“Uh-huh. When my dad’s not around, and -” He shrugged, trailing off, leaving the implication that his father wasn’t around much in the air.

“That’s a lot of responsibility at a young age. And Sam’s such a good kid, you should be proud.”

“I am.”

Miss. Y/L/N smiled, placing her hand on his shoulder again. “You’re a good person, Dean Winchester. Whatever you decide to do with your life, just don’t forget that, and I’ve got faith you’ll be okay.”

Two weeks later, Luther High School was in the rearview, and they were moving on.

She was every bit as beautiful as he remembered her. Standing outside her classroom, staring at her through the square window in the door, he felt seventeen again. Of course she’d aged, so had he, but for a woman pushing forty, she looked great.

Her class seemed focused on everything she was saying, and she seemed to be in her element at the front of the room, running through a mathematical problem on the board. Dean stepped closer, and the movement made her gaze dart to the door, her whole body freezing as she saw his face. Her lips stopped moving, eyes wide; the bell rang, saving her from her class noticing her sudden distraction, and she quickly dismissed them.

He waited outside the door until the room was empty, then stepped in, closing the door behind him. Miss. Y/L/N - he noted her name on the board, internally crowing that she was not married - smiled, folding her arms across her chest as she watched him approach.

“Dean Winchester,” she breathed. “That smart kid I always wondered about.”

“Miss. Y/L/N,” he greeted. “Best teacher I ever had. Can’t believe you recognized me.”

Her smile widened. “How could I forget a face that handsome?” she chuckled. “And it’s Y/N, please, we’re both grown ups now.” She looked him up and down, not even bothering to conceal her appreciation. “Never thought I’d see you again.”

“You’re still teaching,” he commented, looking around.

“I am. What about you?”

“Family business,” he murmured hesitantly, unsure if she’d remember. “Guess I never found another path I liked enough.”

She hummed. “Are you happy though?” she asked curiously.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “for the most part. Yeah.” His awkwardness was showing like twenty years had never passed, and he smiled, shoving one hand into his pocket. “What about you? Husband, kids?”

“Hmmm,” she mused. “Two cats and a ridiculous amount of books about monsters,” she confessed after a second or two, and he blinked at her in confusion. “Guess I couldn’t quite drop the questions after what you told me. Only reading though, I don’t ever want to meet one in person.” Her face contorted in horror. “Oh, god, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? The attacks - is it a monster?”

He pulled a face. “Not sure yet. My brother and I are looking into it -”

“Wait, your brother, Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“You weren’t kidding about family business,” she muttered.

“I take it you didn’t see or hear anything?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I don’t stay past dark, and I only teach the juniors now. You’d be better off talking to Mr. Harrison, several of his students were involved.” A knock at the door made them both turn, and Dean waved at Sam on the other side. “Is that Sam?” she asked, sounding a little shocked. “Wow. He got tall.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, he did.” He looked back at her, a smirk on his lips. “Listen, when we’ve dealt with this,” he began slowly, “I’d really like to buy you dinner. I don’t think I gotta worry about getting you in trouble now we’re both graying adults.”

Her laughter was music to his ears, and she turned to her desk, bending to scribble her number on a scrap of paper. Dean took the opportunity to admire her ass in the tight-fitting black pants, and his cock reacted at the thought of finally getting what his teenage fantasies had been made of.

She straightened and slipped the scrap of paper into his hand, closing his fingers around it. “I’m certain we can still find plenty of trouble to get into,” she purred, the sudden seduction making him flustered as Sam knocked on the door again.

“I bet we can,” he stuttered out, backing up towards the door. “I’ll call you, Miss….” He laughed nervously as he corrected himself. “Y/N.”

It hadn’t taken more than another few hours to figure out the case was vampires, and Mr. Harrison was actually the creature in question. He’d been turned on a wild weekend and had decided to attempt sustainable feeding, using his young students as walking blood bags. Unfortunately, the light snacks weren’t enough to keep him going, and it was only by the grace of Sam and Dean’s presence that the final victim wasn’t a casualty.

Dean was nervous to call her when they were finally done hunting the vamp down and when he finally dialed the number, he was half-expecting it to be fake. She answered after four rings, and he stumbled over his words as he asked her if she was still interested in dinner. Her answer was a resounding yes, and he let her take the lead on a place and time.

“You’re going on a date?” Sam asked, disbelief in his voice.

“Yeah, I’m going on a date,” Dean snapped, buttoning up his nicest shirt, one of his newer red plaid button downs. “One, I haven’t had sex in months, and two, she’s literally my teenage fantasy.” He paused, tossing his brother a dirty look. “Three, maybe you should consider getting laid.”

Sam sneered at him, then threw himself on the bed, switching the tv on. “I guess I’ll stay here then.”

“You do that,” Dean grinned, grabbing his jacket. “Don’t wait up.”

She was waiting for him in a little Italian place downtown, and it was all he could do not to grin like an idiot when he walked in and saw her. Her smile was bright as he sat down opposite her, both of them remaining silent as the server handed them each a menu.

“Hi,” she whispered, leaning in. “You look really good.”

Dean let his gaze drop, admiring the view of her cleavage in the little black dress she’d paired with leggings. “Hi yourself,” he murmured, smirking lightly. “That’s a very distracting dress.”

“Would you have preferred I wore a pantsuit?” she teased, giggling when his cheeks turned red. “This place is great, any of their pasta is amazing.”

“You eat here often?”

She nodded, smiling at him again. “It’s my favorite place.”

He didn’t know what it had been about her all those years ago, but she was the same now, coaxing him into an easy conversation. They talked about everything from her life to snippets of his, though she avoided asking about anything too intense, and he avoided sharing anything too disturbing. It was nice for once to just be a regular person, without the need to be incredibly guarded about his secrets.

Dinner moved onto dessert, and they kept talking, flirting with each other as the restaurant emptied around them. By the time their meal was finished, Dean had begun to envision what happened after, but when it came to propositioning it, he found himself unusually nervous.

She called for the check and insisted on paying, so he didn’t argue, sitting nervously as she thanked and tipped the server. When they disappeared again, leaving them alone, she turned her attention to him, smiling almost coyly.

“I’m not gonna pretend this is anything more than what it is,” she said suddenly, keeping her voice even and quiet. “One night between two adults, who they’ll probably never see again, right?”

He sighed with a tiny laugh, leaning his arm on the table. “I’m not the type to settle down,” he replied calmly. “And this life…”

“I get it,” she whispered, taking his hand. “I’m not looking for long haul. But I wouldn’t mind making a happy memory or two.” Her lips twitched into a smile. “Besides, I don’t wanna have gotten all dressed up for nothing.”

“I can assure you,” he replied firmly, “you did not.”

She grinned. “My place is about four blocks away.”

“My car’s outside.”

His inner seventeen year old, if such a thing existed, was jumping for joy as she led him out of the restaurant. She admired his car openly, prompting him to act out just a little, showing off his baby with pride before driving them back to her apartment. The aforementioned cats were meowing loudly when they entered, and he followed her into the kitchen, shedding his jacket as she fed the whining felines.

“Sorry,” she said breathlessly, returning to him once she’d washed her hands.

He smirked, bypassing conversation as he slid his fingers along her jaw and into her hair, pulling her into a passionate kiss that made her sigh when he pulled away a few seconds later. “Wow,” he murmured, staying close, noses tip to tip. “You know how many times I dreamed about doing that?”

“Did you ever dream about being in my bedroom?” she teased, twisting her finger in the collar of his shirt.

“Actually, most of the time, I was thinking about bending you over your desk,” he grinned, sliding his other hand over her hip. “I’m guessing you don’t have one in here?”

“No,” she giggled. “Will the bed do?”

“Lead the way.”

Her shoes were abandoned by the time they reached the bedroom door, with his shoes following just inside. Pants, shirt, and dress landed in another pile, and as they hit the bed, her leggings disappeared, his t-shirt following in rapid succession. His hands were everywhere he could put them, lips kissing every patch of skin revealed unless he was preoccupied by her mouth, and she whimpered when his fingers deftly unhooked and discarded her bra.

If only seventeen-year-old him had known this would happen one day.

Finally, he broke away to catch his breath, chuckling when he noticed her breathing heavily too. “If this had been ten years ago,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

“Tell me about it,” she agreed, reaching for the drawer beside her bed, opening it and pulling out a box of condoms. He happily took one but didn’t open it, flashing a grin at her. “What?” she asked.

“You’re rushing me,” he chided softly. “I have no intention of doing anything but savoring this moment.”

Any reply she had to that disappeared as his fingers slipped under the waistband of her panties, finding her already wet. Her moan drowned out his, and she clutched his shoulder as he eased a single finger into her, thrusting it back and forth to coax more wetness out of her.

“Oh, fuck,” she whined, arching a little, hips canting toward him in an effort to get more friction. “Oh, fuck, Dean -”

“You’re so wet,” he groaned, “can’t wait to have this pussy wrapped around me.” Her fingers tightened on his shoulder as he added a second, opening her up. “But I want you to cum first.”

It was pointless trying to quiet her own noises, giving up when biting her lip didn’t cut it. Dean worked her higher and higher, watching her facial expression crumble as she reached her peak, her cries turning silent when he twisted his hand and grazed his thumb against her clit.

“I really wanna eat you out,” he murmured, lowering his voice to a rumble, and she quickly nodded, giving him the permission he was seeking. Withdrawing his hand, he left her teetering on the precipice of an orgasm as he removed her panties and slotted himself between her thighs.

His tongue was warm against her sensitive sex and she cried out again as he explored her, figuring out what made her tremble. She was drowning in a haze of arousal, unable to think about anything beyond his mouth on her cunt, and when he sank two fingers into her again, she had to fight the urge to close her thighs against the pleasure.

Dean was in heaven, working her into a frenzy with his tongue and fingers. He’d had a lot of time to think about this particular fantasy, and having her here, wet and warm and inviting, writhing underneath him, he was certain he’d peaked. He knew he would be replaying this one on repeat forever.

“Deeean,” Y/N whimpered, fingers tugging on his short hair. “Fuck, I’m so close -”

He broke away, working his fingers into her harder as she spread herself open a little more. “Don’t worry,” he growled, “just let go, baby.”

Her cries echoed off the walls when he sucked her clit into his mouth, teasing the bud and crooking his fingers inside her to find that extra sweet spot. It didn’t take long; she wailed as her pussy clenched around him, her pleasure ringing in his ears, but he didn’t stop, working her through the climax until she went limp.

He couldn’t keep the filthy smirk off of his face as he got onto his knees and retrieved the condom from where he’d dropped it. “You doing okay there, Miss. Y/L/N.”

“Don’t,” she panted with a giggle. “You’ll make it awkward when people call me that.”

“Spoilsport,” he chuckled, opening the foil packet and tugging the condom free. “You still want this?”

She pushed herself up on shaking arms. “Uh-huh.”

A few seconds later and the condom was on. He stroked himself a few times before leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss, guiding the tip of his cock through her folds until she whimpered into his mouth. Her pussy was dripping, eagerly accepting every inch as he sank inside her, drawing back a couple of times when he met resistance, but not stopping until he was buried deep.

He had to stop then, feeling how hard his heart was racing. She caught his jaw with her hand, kissing him softly, lifting her right leg to press her knee against his side, allowing him to slip a tiny bit deeper. “Dreams do come true,” he murmured, brushing his nose against hers.

“You always were hot for teacher,” she joked, and he chuckled, kissing her hard again before starting to rock against her. He didn’t rush, enjoying every thrust, relishing the way her body drew him back in, keeping him close. She didn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t in a hurry, letting him push her into an easy orgasm. His hands wandered, toying with her tits when he was going slower, grabbing her hips when he got faster, a little more urgent.

“Want you to cum again,” he growled, holding her leg in place as he fucked into her, “Wanna feel it right around my dick.”

“Uh-huh,” she managed, clinging to his neck. “Wanna feel y-you too.”

He nodded then kissed her, focusing on nothing but how good she felt in his arms, underneath, around him. So soft and wet, warm, inviting, his literal dream come true. Even if this was only one night, he knew he’d never forget her.

“Fuck,” she gasped. “Dean -”

Her whole body quivered, thighs clenching around him as her pussy tightened, and he couldn’t hold it off, reacting with his own climax. His vision swam, and he couldn’t think beyond her warmth, her taste, her moans as she came for him. She clung to him until they were both done, collapsing with him onto the bed. Breathlessly, he kissed her one last time, withdrawing reluctantly to lay beside her.

“Holy shit,” she groaned, flinging an arm over her eyes. “I’m not gonna lie… the bar was low. You obliterated it.”

Dean chuckled, folding his hands behind his head, allowing the swell of pride in his chest. “That - that was awesome,” he agreed. “A dream come true. Literally.”

Y/N yawned, reaching over to place a hand against his chest. “I hope you’re not expecting a round two.”

He grinned. “Maybe in the morning.”

His father had meant well with this marriage. Apparently, your father was a childhood friend, and you the oldest daughter of a great house. Though Lord Lyonel wasn’t ambitious, he was loyal to his friends, and the king, who encouraged the match. So in a whirlwind of affairs, the betrothal had been arranged by ravens, and the marriage planned.

You had married in the sept of King’s Landing earlier this day, and though Harwin had written you a letter to calm your nerves, the first time he got any impression of you was when your father led you to the altar.

He felt sorry for you. Whatever dreams you had held for the future had been crushed the moment the septon bound you in marriage. And on top of that, he wasn’t sure if you were scared of him or not. His reputation was true to his character, and next to his wide frame, almost every woman looked frail.

And now, while the wedding feast was in full swing, he saw your hands shake as you attempted to cut your food. He tried to distract himself, looking around the room and attempting to take his mind off of the fact that his lady wife seemed to find him unpleasant.

King Viserys was sitting next to his father, leaving Queen Alicent to put on an icy mask. She was better at hiding it than his wife. Perhaps because she had been in King’s Landing for longer. Princess Rhaenyra, on the other hand, was deep in conversation with Lady Laena. The two of them had grown closer since the rift between Rhaenyra and Alicent, and if Ser Harwin was not mistaken, the Queen looked almost jealous.

Prince Daemon was currently returned from his latest exile, trying to rile up Otto Hightower. Judging from the strain in the man’s jaw, the Prince was quite successful in his venture.

Still, it was his wife that seemed the tensest in the room. The new lady Strong, and yet, you seemed to be anything but. From what he had heard from his father, you liked to read and was very well educated, but beyond that only quiet. You did not ride, or hunt, or keep an army of ladies around her.

For the latter, he was grateful, but for the others… It seemed you didn’t have anything in common. Harwin was as educated as a future lord needed to be, but he preferred to train and hunt. The first time he even heard you speak outside of her vows was to his brother.

“A gift, for the bride.” He said, offering you a book. At that, your face lit up.

“Thank you, Lord Larys.”

“I hear you tried to become a Maester once?” he asked, and you blushed.

“I was five and had not yet realized the Citadel accepted neither women nor children.”

Harwin smiled to himself. It seemed that, at the very least, you had some spirit. When his brother had left, he tried to find something to talk to you about.

“So, what topics interest you?” he tried.

“History and medicine.” you replied curtly.

“Yes, I imagine Aegon’s conquest is an interesting read.” He said. You tried to suppress a smile at that, and Harwin raised a brow.

“Is it not?” he asked.

“Forgive me, my lord, but every child is told the story of his conquest over and over. The histories of Old Valyria before the Doom and Nymeria’s conquest are much more interesting, especially since so much source material has been lost.” you said.

He could tell that you weren’t asked about these things very often, the words spilling out of your mouth so quickly.

“What about you?” you asked.

“Hunting and fighting.” He replied.

“Does that not get boring after a while?”

“It is to me what reading is to you.” Harwin said. He knew you were from the Westerlands, where people spoke more eloquently, and though he was from the Riverlands and had no use for flowery words, he tried for you.

Your silence returned when dessert was served. You dreaded the bedding, and Harwin didn’t think he had seen many brides that were as terrified of it as you.

When it was announced that the bedding would begin, you turned even paler. Before the lords attending could swoop in to grab you, Harwin quickly scooped you up into his arms. Wordlessly, he left, as the crowd let out disappointed shouts of protest.

He carried you all the way to their new, shared chambers, setting you down on the bed. Turning around, Harwin grabbed the pitcher of wine to fill up their glasses. You would need it for your nerves.

As he turned back around, he could see you lying on the bed, the skirt of your wedding dress hiked up to your thighs and staring at the ceiling stiff as a board. He would have laughed at the comical sight, if he hadn’t felt sorry for you.

Instead, he sat at the edge of the bed, gently taking your hand.

“What were you told about the bedding?” he asked.

“My cousin told me it was painful, but my duty.” you replied.

“Sit up.” Harwin said, and you scrambled to follow his words, pulling the skirt back down.

“Your cousin must have a horrible husband.” He concluded.

“They- they do not value each other much.” you said carefully.

“Beddings don’t have to be painful.” Harwin began. He’d never been a woman’s first before, but he wasn’t inexperienced by any means.

“Oh.” Was all you said to that. It sounded more like a sigh of relief than a question.

“Did you not say you studied medicine?”

“The bedding was… seen as unseemly for me. It was forbidden.” you replied.

“I’ll be gentle, I won’t hurt you.” Harwin promised. Still, when he tried to come closer to you, you leaned away from him, trying to keep the distance. As if a kiss would kill you.

With a sigh, Harwin grabbed the dagger from his belt and your eyes widened even more.

“What…?” you asked.

“I won’t force you.” He replied simply, rolling his sleeve back.

“No.” you said, grabbing his wrist. It was the first time you touched him. “I- We have to someday. And I’d like to learn. I need to make my father proud.”

“Your father? This is about you.” Harwin tried. You gave him a half-hearted smile, and Harwin felt that he wouldn’t become friends with his father-in-law.

“If you want me to bed you, you should start by kissing me first.” He said, and you nodded.

“Will I be your first?” he asked. You blushed, lowering her gaze, and Harwin carefully tipped her face up.

“Good. Less pressure.” He joked.

“I suppose so.” you replied. “I promise, it wasn’t while we were betrothed.”

“And if it was, I wouldn’t blame you. Whoever he, or she, was they got lucky.”

You smiled at that, blushing due to his compliment rather than shame. With a determined look in your eyes, you put a hand on his face, pressing your lips to his. It wasn’t the chaste kiss they had shared in the sept, and it wasn’t heated with passion, but it was more than the trembling leaf of a woman that had sit next to him at her own banquet.

Harwin deepened the kiss carefully, his hands finding your intricate braids, impossible to tangle into. So he held you by the small of her back instead, kissing you until you broke apart for air.

“That was… dizzying.” you said. Your cheeks were flushed pink, and your pupils had grown dark, and Harwin could feel desire begin to grow for you. Carefully, he seated himself against the cushions, sitting you down in front of him, and beginning to take out the pins in your updo.

While he worked on the tight braidwork, he began to kiss up and down your neck, careful not to go too low too fast. You let out a satisfied sigh, clapping your hand against your mouth afterwards.

“They’re all gone by now. We were too boring, I suppose.” Harwin joked, and you nodded.

“You don’t have to keep quiet.” He encouraged. “It tells me whether I’m doing the right thing.”

“Oh?” you asked.

“Trust me.”

When he was done, your hair fell down your back in soft waves. Harwin briefly wondered if it was because of the braids, or if your hair was always like this.

Then, he moved onto your wedding dress. It was laced in the back, gold and cream embroidery hiding the strings, and you began to tense when he opened them.

“It’ll be more comfortable if you can breathe properly.” Harwin said, slowly pulling the stiff part of the dress over your head. The long skirt followed, until you were left in a thin shift. It looked like it was meant to entice him, barely transparent enough to see your shape, but nothing beyond that.

Harwin took his time laying the dress over a chair in the room, returning with the pitcher of wine. When he offered to refill your glass, you shook your head.

“I’ll be drunk then. I want to remember for the next time.”

“Already planning ahead?” Harwin teased.

“I don’t know. In case this time doesn’t get me pregnant.”

“You do know there’s more to this than getting pregnant, right?” he asked. You raised a brow, as if you did not believe him. “It’s… it’s supposed to be fun as well.”

“Can we start with kissing again?” you asked shyly. Harwin leaned over, kissing you softly. Your hands were unsure, cupping his face, roaming around his hair and awkwardly landing on his arms. Harwin readjusted them, putting one on his jaw and the other on his shoulder the way he liked it.

He really tried to hold back, but when you let another whine slip, he grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap. You squealed, surprised, but once you were there, you continued with more enthusiasm than before.

Breaking the kiss, Harwin saw that your lips had become a little swollen. Mindlessly, he tucked a strand of hair back to where it had fallen out of place.

“I’m ready.” you said, lying back against the pillows with a look of determination on your face. Harwin snorted.

“You are not. If I do it now, it’ll hurt. Have you ever even touched yourself?”

Your mouth fell open at that, as if he was accusing you of fucking a horse, and your blush took ahold of your ears as well.

“I’m only asking to make you comfortable.”

“Never… inside.” you managed.

Harwin nodded, making his way down your body until he reached the hem of your shift. Gently, he began to pull it up and automatically, your legs crossed over.

When he tried to pry them open, you pulled away.

“I have had my maidenhead inspected.” you said, voice high-pitched.

“I wasn’t inspecting anything. Just… trust me on this.” Harwin asked.

It took you a moment, but eventually, you opened your legs back up, allowing him access. Harwin knew better than to stare (for now), and began kissing the inside of your thighs, making his way towards your cunt. When he finally tasted it, he felt like he was ready to die – until his lady wife scrambled backwards, trying to gather her bearings.

“This is wrong. It’s sinful.” you whispered.

“Not really. Asked my septon when I was a boy, and also, it feels good.” Harwin replied nonchalantly.

“I’ll take you by your word.” you said seriously.

You lied back down, and Harwin held your thighs, trying to make a squeeze somehow feel reassuring before he started again, slowly lapping up the wetness your cunt had produced. He could feel you writhe beneath him, but better yet, he could hear you moan.

Muffled pants and cries reached him, spurring him on. Very cautiously, he pushed in one finger, continuing to lick your clit to ease the way. It went in easier than he thought, and so, Harwin crooked it to make you feel even better.

He wanted to be your first in this as well, and he didn’t care if that was greedy.

He had to push you down by the stomach when your back arched. Harwin chuckled to himself as he worked the finger inside you, knowing exactly what he was doing.

After a while, he could feel your body begin to shake, and your legs wrapped around his head, pushing him down. He almost felt proud of you, even as he began to run out of air, but Harwin kept going, until you came, licking you like a starving man.

When you went limp under his touch, Harwin dared to come up from under your shift.

“And?” he asked.

“Whatever that was… I think I caught a glimpse of the Seven Heavens.” you sighed.

“You… came.” He replied, half-asking.

“Yeah. It was wonderful.”

“Did you never?”

“No. I didn’t dare.” you said.

“That’s a pity, to go so many years of your life without pleasure.”

“I see that now.” you quipped, and Harwin laughed with you.

You sat in silence for a while, you leaning against his shoulder with your eyes closed. Harwin felt that he was hard for you, but he didn’t want to disturb you. He could bed you some other time.

Sated with the knowledge that he had already done this for you, Harwin took off his wedding suit and changed into the long linen trousers that were laid out for him. He could feel your eyes burn into his back. Just to tease you (and not at all to inflate his ego), he flexed his back- and arm muscles.

He settled back into bed, staring at you until you realized you had been caught.

“Does my lady wife approve?”

“Mhm.” you mumbled, shamelessly staring at his chest. “I want another.”

“Another?” Harwin asked.

“Bed me. Make me feel like that again.” you mumbled through gritted teeth. Hesitantly, you let her hand wander under the blankets and into his trousers. His cock was still hard from before, and your eyes widened as you felt the girth of it.

“How will it fit?” you asked.

“You managed two fingers. I’ll help you work it out, but there’ll still be a small stretch.” Harwin tried.

Your hand was still frozen on his dick, so he carefully guided it to stroke him. All word about you rang true, you were a good learner.

Harwin closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall to concentrate on the sensation for a moment, before he stopped you.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Please.” you replied. There was still a residue of nervousness in your eyes, but Harwin wasn’t going to say no to such an invitation.

Slowly, he pulled your shift over her head, tossing it aside carelessly. For a moment, he could only stare, causing you to cross your arms over your chest.

“You’re beautiful.” Harwin said breathlessly. He wasn’t used to being gentle, but Gods be damned, he’d try for you.

Taking his pants off again, he began to kiss your tits, lavishly sucking more bruises into your perfect skin. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him down towards you, and Harwin tried to suppress a groan.

“Good?” you asked.

“Yeah. Really good.” Harwin replied. Your response was to lightly tug his curls, a smirk on your lips. He kissed you again, this time forgetting everything about gentleness and going slowly, swallowing your sounds up with a kiss, desperately holding your face with his hands, dwarfing it in comparison.

His thumb stroked your cheek, trying to convey the awe he already held for you, and you raked your hands through his hair in response. His resolve was melting by the second.

Carefully, he angled his dick up with your cunt, teasing your clit with the tip for a moment, before he slowly sank into you. One of your hands landed on his hips, and Harwin froze.

“Are you alright?” he asked. You stared up at him, wide-eyed, before you nodded.

“Just need a moment.” you managed. Excruciatingly slowly, Harwin sank in further, waiting for you to adjust, until he was fully inside you.

“Can I…?” Harwin began. You nodded, and he pulled back, before thrusting forward with as much self-control as he possessed. He expected you to cry out in pain, but instead, you met him with an unabashed moan.

“Fuck.” you panted, before catching yourself.

“I don’t believe you’ve sworn before.” Harwin managed. You opened your mouth to say something, but he thrust again and your answer was swallowed by another moan.

He tried to put all of his newfound devotion into his thrusts, to make you happy. To satisfy you, so that you would not grow to despise him, at the very least in this way.

All of his intentions of being slow and loving disappeared when you began to beg.

“Please, I need more.” you whispered. Even through the dim candlelight, Harwin saw you blush, but who was he to deny you?

So he picked up the pace, his thrusts turning almost brutish. He would have worried for you, if your eyes hadn’t been in the back of your skull, and your nails weren’t digging into his back.

“Fuck, you’re so.. didn’t expect this.” Harwin managed. You gave him a laugh, which immediately turned into a wanton moan under his ministrations.

“My pretty little wife, legs open only for me.” He praised. Harwin felt your legs wrap around his hips, desperate to create more friction, more intensity.

“Only for you.” You repeat, and Harwin can see the change in your expression, from tense to relaxed. Your posture is open to him (in more ways than one) and his heart almost sings at the thought that you might not despise him or be terrified of him after all.

Harwin manages to steady his mind into looking at you, and Gods, you look fucking angelic. Hair splayed out like a halo, mouth parted and face contorted in pleasure, trying so, so hard to keep your long-lost composure. Nothing feels more right than trying to break that composure, to make you melt into his arms even more.

To give up any thought of propriety and be his.

His thoughts run wild, his heart pounding in his chest with crazed abandon and he can feel himself coming close to the edge. He searches for the bundle of nerves between your legs, hoping to make you scream and when he finds it, it works so well he’s worried the entire Red Keep will hear you after all.

Desperately, he begins to rut into you, watching all coherent thoughts disappear from your eyes as he brings you over the edge a second time. Only then does he allow himself to cum, grabbing your hips harshly until he, too, is spent.

Suddenly exhausted, he rolls off of you, lying next to you and only grabbing your hand.

He turns to face you after a while, you doing the same. Your eyes meet and a smile appears on your flushed face.

“My body feels like it’s filled with lead.” You whisper.

“My lady wife. I never knew I could get this lucky.” He replies. Harwin got out of the bed, trying to find a washcloth. For once, you did not ask any questions, eyes closed in bliss. You let him wipe off the remainder of his seed, burrowing into his side as he lies down next to you.

“You are mine.” You whisper, hearing him chuckle at your words.

“Indeed. I swore it before the Seven just this morning.”

“I think I’m falling in love with you, Ser Harwin.” You sigh.

"Want me to kill him?" You absentmindedly offer to Princess Rhaenyra. 

She chuckles from behind you, her fellow ladies attempting to hide their smirks and smiles whilst they finish up her hair. "I know how much you crave violence, but I can not allow you to kill him. Besides, how would you even do it?"

You pause in the mirror, your eyes flickering to find Rhaenyra's. "Seduction is a woman's greatest strength." You whirl around to face her, a cruel expression etching into your face at the thought. "A simple poison into his drink and during the night he'd cease breathing and the Maestor would declare a heart attack. An easy kill, if I say so myself," 

The princess raises her eyebrows, her lips pursing together. Tonight is her name day feast, celebrating another year of her youth and thus drawing in all the potential suitors wishing to offer themselves. One of the Lannister twins made a fool of himself, offending Rhaenyra and thus resulting in you plotting his death, should your princess command it. 

As her lady in waiting, you take your role very seriously. Though, you are oft referred to as her sister, the two of you becoming close at a young age and growing up together. It has solidified your relationship with her, and in turn, you know each other inside and out. 

Your sharp words and cunning nature are a breath of fresh air as opposed to the customary expectations of Rhaenyra's fellow ladies. 

You glance over yourself once more in the mirror, your attention spanning over the finer details of your gown and the excellent work of the seamstress. The dress accentuates your frame, the embroidery and accessories dating back to your House and heritage. 

You look like a woman, a woman grown and of power. 

"Are you ready?" Rhaenyra pulls you from yourself, twirling around to give you a full look at her. 

"Indeed, and must I say my Princess, you look divine." You tell her honestly. 

She smiles, the two of you making your way to the great hall. Heads turn at the sight of you both, the heir to seven kingdoms and her fierce lady, who would protect her more so than a knight. 

Your stomach begins to twist as you near the hall, your teeth grinding together to keep the nerves at bay. You feel a reassuring squeeze on your hand, your dear friend sensing your change in behaviour. 

"If he doesn't fall at your feet and beg for your hand, I'll feed him to Syrax myself," she whispers. 

You bite your tongue, though a small smile creeps out. In the past moons, you've become acquainted with a knight, the two of you sharing passions and dreams. Nothing more of talk has happened thus far, but you can't help but think that maybe he will ask for your hand in marriage, as the two of you spend most days side by side. 

He makes your heart beat rapidly, with the small gestures and whispered words when no one is close. Not to mention, the way he looks at you, like no one else exists but you. 

Yet, you can't help but think that you're in way over your head, too consumed to see the reality. 

You have no time to ponder Rhaenyra's words, as the two of you arrive at the hall, the chatter dying down instantly. Swallowing, you hold your head high, following Rhaenyra down the stairs and toward the high table where you veer off to your own. 

His eyes were on you the moment you appeared, refusing to leave even as you sit down. You look absolutely breathtaking. 

Of course, you avoid his gaze, even from across the room, as you begin to fill your plate. Your skin ignites under his heated stare, your desire overweighting your sense of propriety. Glancing up, you meet him, his deep blue eyes burning into your darkest depths and tearing down every wall you've ever built. 

Ser Harwin Strong, renowned for his strength throughout the seven kingdoms and his proud house. 

Your cheeks heat up under the intensity, neither of you daring to break contact. You admire how he's dressed, his fine threaded clothes making him look regal, his unruly curls neatly pulled back into a bun. Gods.

The grumble of your stomach brings you to your senses, your head bowing down to begin consuming your food. You feel him continue for a heartbeat longer, before he diverts his attention elsewhere. 

As the night begins to progress, you drag Rhaenyra to dance, moving with the music and enjoying yourself. You change partners throughout, making yourself known and extending yourself to the other lords and ladies currently attending for the princess's name day. 

For once, Harwin doesn't grace your thoughts, until he becomes your next partner. 

Your eyes widen for a moment, your breath catching. "Ser-" you start, not expecting to see him. 

"My lady, you look exquisite." His rasps, his body feathering your own. 

His heat wraps around you like wild vines, pulling and tugging you closer, enticing you to become lost. You hit your chin out, refusing to fall prey. 

"And you, good Ser," 

Harwin smiles, a hum of satisfaction rumbling within his chest. His hand brushes your own, a part of him needing to touch you, his resolve almost snapping from the softness of your flesh. His fingers itch to press firmly, to warn off any man or lord that dare think they have a chance with you. 

"Are you enjoying yourself, this evening?" He asks, his lips close to your ear as to make sure you hear him over the loud music. 

You turn your head, his breath fanning your cheek. Heat pools within your stomach, want gnawing at you and demanding to be free. "I'll enjoy myself once I've had my dessert," you dare. 

His eyes narrow, assessing the situation. Little minx. Before he can conjure his own smart remark, a fellow knight of the city watch approaches, pulling him away from you. You watch him go without a word, a sense of humiliation washing over you as you continue to dance alone, searching for Rhaenyra. 

You find her with her uncle, enjoying themselves. 

Biting your lip, you move off the dance floor, standing on the sideline. You feel deflated, watching your friends enjoy themselves and even sneak out of the hall with their suitors, and your heart's deepest love couldn't even excuse himself. He just left you. 

You see him, surrounded by his companions, and more so with an older woman hanging off him. Now you feel stupid, your usual confidence and ego a ghost. The woman wraps an arm around his waist, much like a partner, and him not moving. 

Of fucking course, I'm just the plaything to keep him entertained whilst his lover is elsewhere. 

Grinding your jaw in anger, you inhale deeply and begin to make your way through the crowd, ignoring Harwin and his group as you have to pass them to ascend the stairs out of the hall. Your hasty exit catches many people's attention, especially the one you were hoping wouldn't notice. 

You don't realise he follows you, until you almost reach your quarters. His boots hit the ground harshly, as he tries to catch you, going as far as calling out your name. You pause in front of your doors, whirling around to face him once he draws near. 

Fire dances within your eyes, making Harwin pause momentarily. "Ser Harwin?" You snap. 

"I wanted to make sure you're well, you left in such a hurry," 

"I'm fine," you start, your thumb running over your fingers anxiously. "The hall became too much, so I'm retiring for the evening." 

Harwin tilts his head. He calls bullshit. He knows you, he grew up alongside you and knows that you are one of the last to leave the party, oft enjoying yourself too much to notice the sunrise and thus requiring an escort, usually him. 

He reads your body language, depicting your sudden mood change has something to do with him. He chuckles lightly, amusement etching across his features at your frustrated glare. "You're jealous." 

"Jealous?!" You repeat in disbelief, your raised voice echoing the corridor. "Me? Of what?" You ask him incredulously. You naturally begin to step closer, "of that woman? Why would I be jealous of some wench when I am the Princesses lady in waiting, I can have almost any suitor I want, I have sway within these walls and no one quite realises the extent I'll go to if I'm pushed, not to mention," you stop just shy of him, your chest heaving. "One word to my Princess, and I can have whatever I want." 

Harwin peers down at you, a small smirk gracing his lips at your outburst. "I never said what you were jealous of," he says lowly, almost inaudible if not for your closeness. "I'll be sure to tell my sister you think she's a wench." 

Your world crashes and burns. Sister? That was his fucking sister?! Your heart ceases beating, your breath catches in your throat and your skin clams up. Realisation and dread wash over you, embarrassment etching into your cheeks. You become a wounded animal, and respond much as they do, 

"Fuck you." You don't know what compels you or who takes over your body, but you can't stop the words from tumbling out and sending them straight at Harwin. 

He blinks. 

Quickly you spin on your heel and make haste to your door, pulling the handle to only have it slammed shut, and a large body pressing against you. Your throat constricts, feeling Harwin's entire front against your back as his hand looms over your head, keeping the door closed. 

One small movement, and he could bury his nose into your hair. "Say that again," his chest rumbles, his mouth angling down to press on your ear. To make sure you hear him loud and clear. 

You're frozen, your body shutting down. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. "Go on, don't go shy on me now, my lady," he presses, pushing you. 

Licking your lips, you hesitantly shift on the spot, leaning your back against the door and tilting your head to hold Harwin's gaze. He pins you down, the entirety of his body caging you in, almost like a shield protecting you from peering eyes. 

"Fuck you," you whisper. 

Reflexively, his other hand snaps to your jaw, his fingers digging into the skin. Your lips part, your muscles relax and your body becoming a rag doll. He could very easily suffocate you like he was bunching up a piece of parchment, he wouldn't even feel your bones snap. Yet, in this very moment, your thighs press together, your garment becoming soaked with each passing second. 

You know he won't hurt you. His hold on you is firm and delicate, the pads of his fingers gently holding you in place. He tilts his head, assessing you like he would an opponent, his dark eyes roaming your face and his brows twitching in thought. 

You test the waters, standing straighter and in turn bumping your nose into his cheek. Harwin exhales shakily, his grip tightening if only a smidge, in comparison to his self-restraint. You nudge your nose against his, his hooded eyes following your every move. 

Your breath tangles with his own, desire and hunger transpiring. Harwin's jaw clenches, his palm against the door closing into a fist. You want him, he wants you. Swallowing thickly, your lashes feather your cheeks and you take the plunge, pressing your lips against his own with uncertainty. 

For a moment, you float, your body becoming weightless and your mind lost. His lips are softer than you imagined, despite his harsh reputation, soft and plump on your own. Harwin responds, before suddenly pulling you away by his grip still on your jaw. 

A bucket of cold water drenches you, his sudden cold demeanour creating a crack in your heart. Not so much that he pulled you away, more how forcible it was, after he began to lose himself under the taste of you. That hurts. 

Your eyes flash. You move to release yourself from his grip, but he tightens it, his head turning slightly as though to check for any movement within the corridor. With precision, he pulls you flush to his body and opens the door in one movement, shoving you inside to your quarters and locking the door behind him. 

"You naïve girl," he starts, running a hand over his beard. 

You scoff, creating distance between the two of you by standing at the window sill. "And they say romance is dead." 

Harwin narrows at you. "You have no idea what you've just done, what if someone had seen?" His voice raises, his hand gesturing to the doors. 

Confusion swirls within you at his sudden change of behaviour, at his switch from intimacy to frustration in an upsetting kind of way. "I don't see the problem," you cross your arms, raising a brow. "I want you, and I don't give a fuck what anyone else thinks." 

"Well, you should!" You're taken aback by his sudden outburst, a sliver of fear creeping up your spine. "I am not good for you," he says your name with such emotion. "I have enemies at every turn, I can't be at your side protecting you every day and not to mention what would happen to your reputation-" 

"My reputation?" You cut him off, your voice low in disbelief of what you're hearing. "You think I give a fuck about my reputation! About your enemies? Gods Harwin," you begin to pace, your hands running over your head and falling against your neck. "How fucking dense are you?" 

He attempts to ignore the hiccup in his heart rate at the way his name rolls off your tongue. "I'm more than capable of protecting myself," you start after calming down a notch. You cross the room, standing before the brute and taking his large hands in your own. "Is it that hard to believe that I want you? That I don't care about everything else, about your history and reputation, about the fucking court gossip and your enemies? All I care about is you, your health and well-being, and that I know you'd never hurt me, physically and emotionally. I know you'd die protecting me, and you'd make me feel so loved, despite that shield you put in front of yourself every day." 

Harwin brings your hands to his lips, brushing them over your delicate fingers whilst he closes his eyes, relishing in the moment. His coarse beard caresses your skin, planting the idea of how it would feel between your thighs. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but you drop your hands down, beating him to it. "You want me Harwin?" your voice pulls to him, lulling him in. "I am right here, otherwise there's the door," you gesture. 

Your chest clenches at the thought of him turning his back. You wonder how he could kiss you back, then cough up some bullshit about him being bad for you. It confuses and wounds you. 

His lips part, the cogs turning in his head as he makes his decision. He surges forward, gently taking your head in his hands and angling you upward to capture your lips in a searing kiss. 

He walks you back until you hit the pillar, careful not to slam you into it. His lips move against yours hungrily, his tongue begging for entrance and his breath meddling with your own. Your fingers curl onto the front of his jacket, squeezing out any air left between you, your fronts pressing tightly. 

Your lungs burn, your actions becoming erratic as you move up to his hair, tangling his curls and removing the band keeping it back. You pull at the roots, emitting a deep groan from Harwin, his own hands gliding down your body to find refuge on your waist. 

You pour all your emotions into the kiss; the hunger, lusting, anger and need. He dominates you, his mouth slowly moving down your jaw, his teeth nipping along your bone and travelling to your neck, unknowingly finding your sweet spot. 

You bite your lip at the sound you release, a small sense of embarrassment flooding your body. Harwin immediately comes up, holding you still with his hard stare. "Don't you dare quieten on me." 

"Like your girls loud, Ser Harwin?" 

He chooses to ignore your comment. You smirk, your usual demeanour washing into the shore, a calculating look flashing in your eye. Before he can do anything you shove him back, pushing him down onto the lounge. 

Surprise is evident on his face, his eyes watching you curiously. You crouch between his spread legs, your palms sliding over his thighs in a soothing manner, slowly making your way to his waistband. 

You quite like this image; his unruly dark curls free and framing his face, his intense eyes swallowing you whole and his knees bent outward. He looks casual, yet so fucking handsome you have to restrain yourself from fucking him there. 

"Don't look at me like that," you scold, tugging on his pants. 

"Like what," he grumbles, lifting his hips. 

His pants pool at his feet, his hardened cock free from restraints. "Like I don't know what I'm doing." He eyes you suspiciously, waiting for you to shut down his thoughts. "I've been fucked before, if that's what you're wondering." 

He hums in dissatisfaction. 

"I'll decide if you've been fucked, my lady." You raise a brow at the title. 

He opens his mouth to say something more, but only a loud groan escapes, your lips wrapping around his cock. His hips reflexively jut, his hand moving to your head in response to your movements, your tongue flattening along the underside. 

Harwin shudders, his chest rising in deep pants under your ministrations and his fingers flexing in an attempt to hold himself back from face fucking you. You work him steadily, glancing up at him through your lashes and feeling a sense of pride roll down your spine at his dishevelled state, his head lolling over the back of the lounge. 

"Fuck," he curses, tilting down to hold your gaze. 

You move a hand to work the rest of his cock that you can't fit in his mouth, momentarily pausing when he grabs your wrist, and quickly heaves you off him. "You do that, and this night ends very quickly." 

"I find it hard to believe that Breakbones finishes in under twenty seconds," you muse, slipping out his grip easily and situating yourself on his lap.

He groans quietly, both in frustration and need. "Believe me, my lady, that when I cum, I intend on cumming in you and filling you up." 

"Good." 

You begin undoing his jacket, sliding it off his shoulders and down his arms before moving to his shirt, heaving it up and revealing his toned stomach. Your fingers splay across his chest, feeling his hard-earned muscles and scars from various fights. You pause on a particularly large wound along his abdomen, feathering the pink tissue. 

"Don't worry about it," he whispers your name, reading the emotion on your face. 

"This is an assassination attempt, Harwin." You press, flickering up to hold his stare. "Someone almost succeeded in fucking killing you." Unwanted tears spring in your eyes, raw emotion thick within your voice.

The thought of Harwin being killed, frightens the fuck out of you. 

He cups your cheek, his thumb tenderly wiping a tear. "This is what I meant," he refers to his previous statement about his enemies. You still, your features hardening. 

"Don't you dare, Harwin. Don't you fucking dare." You spit. 

He stays silent, observing you whilst your fingers continue their path along his torso, grazing each other his scars. "Seven Hells help the next man that makes an attempt on your life," you vow, your hand splaying out over his heart. 

"My little warrior," he rasps, pulling you down to him. 

Your lips collide, the taste of him invading your mouth and stealing your breath away. You whimper at the feel of his hands sliding up your arms and resting on your collarbone, toying with your dress. Blindingly he reaches for the lace tying it together, pulling it apart and loosening the top section. 

Goosebumps rise along your flesh as Harwin gently tugs the dress down your arms, exposing your breasts and stomach once it pools around your hips. You rest your forehead in the crook of his neck, gasping under the ministrations of his hands along your breasts, his thumb tweaking the bud. 

You thread through his curls, your nails scraping his scalp and your lips seeking out his neck. 

Suddenly he lifts you off him, placing you down on your feet. You raise your eyebrows in surprise and a little confusion, unsure of his next motive. "Take it off," he commands softly, the low rumble in his chest making your heart rate spike. 

The dress falls to your feet and you step out of it, mindful of taking off your shoes and being left bare before him. He slowly takes his boots off, never breaking contact even whilst he removes his pants. 

You watch him stand, tilting your head as he comes near. He doesn't speak, nor does he kiss you again. Instead, he hooks his hands under your thighs and hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist and your arms coming to the back do his neck. 

He walks toward your bed, gingerly laying you down. You stare up at him with adoration, every fibre of your body knowing you're safe with this man. Despite his reputation, you could almost laugh, knowing that there is a softer, more caring side to him than anyone realises.

No one has ever touched you like you're glass, like you could shatter and slip through his fingers. He kisses you with so much passion and care, in stark contrast to his daily goings. You've witnessed him in a brawl, smashing the men to the ground without a worry and pummelling them to an inch of their life. 

Yet you know, these hands handle you with love. 

You slide up to the head of the bed, brushing the hair from Harwin's face when he comes to hover above you. He descends, missing your face entirely and planting kisses along your neck, slowly travelling south. 

Airy breaths leave you, your body responding to his attention, more so as he pauses over your breasts, taking an erect nipple into his mouth and tugging. Fire pools within your stomach, threatening to pour out. In a way it does, your head falling back into the cushions and your lips parting to release sounds of pleasure. 

Harwin continues his way down, his eyes flickering up to you through his loose curls, intently watching your reaction as he nears between your thighs, softly blowing cool air on your sensitive region. You grit your teeth, glaring down at him. 

"Hurry up." 

"As my lady commands," he chuckles. 

Your flush at the incredibly loud moan, not exactly expecting him to dive right in. Harwin drags his tongue up your slit, finding your clit and sucking. He switches between flicking your clit with his tongue and sucking, groaning lowly to himself at watching you writhe under him. 

He draws more sounds out of you, snaking a hand up to tease your opening, carefully entering a finger. "Fuck!" You arch your back, your hands reaching for his hair. 

He slowly pumps it out of you, enjoying the way you feel around him. He can only imagine how tight you'd be around his cock. The thought almost makes him fuck you right here. 

Your stomach twists, your knuckles turning white. No man has made you feel like this, even with just his mouth and finger, the two bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

He adds a second finger, wanting to properly prepare you for him, and enjoying watching you lose yourself to the pleasure he's giving you. 

He can feel you get close, teetering along the edge as he begins to increase his pace. You whimper at the ache, rutting your hips upward. "Harwin," you whine at the contact of his lips enclosing over your clit and sucking, hard. 

The fire burns brighter, scorchingly hot and desperate for a release. 

"Let go," he murmurs, gently nipping your clit. You do, your orgasm crashing down like a wave, engulfing you. 

He slowly continues to move his fingers through, allowing you to experience your high as he draws it out. He can't help but clean you up before he even thinks about moving away from the safety of your thighs. 

With ease, Harwin climbs back up, claiming your lips. You taste yourself, rummaging your hands through his hair and down his back, his muscles rippling under the pads of your fingers. 

He pulls away from you, question shining in his eyes; do you still want this?

You nod, leaning up to kiss him again, solidifying your answer. He hums, guiding his cock to press against your slit, teasing you for a moment before he nudges your opening. You gasp on his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulders at every inch. 

Harwin falls into the crook of your neck, groaning at the sensation. He stops moving once you've taken all you can, pausing to make sure you're comfortable. You clench around him in reflex, eliciting a deep rumble from his chest, his beard grazing your neck. 

"Harwin," you pant. "If you don't move in the next five seconds," 

He chuckles at your warning, slowly pulling back. You bite your lip, closing your eyes at the high pleasure rocking throughout your body. Harwin lifts his head, his forehead brushing your own. He intends to watch you complete shatter underneath him. 

He slams home, somewhat slow but hard, rutting into you like wild waves against a rock, your back arching and pressing your chest to his. You can't help but rake your nails down Harwin's back, ignorant to the fact that you're close to drawing blood, desperate for a way to show how easily he's unravelled you. 

"Gods Harwin," you cry out at each thrust, harder and deeper than before. 

He grins, his lips on your ear, "I know quiet isn't exactly in your nature, but maybe don't alert everyone in the Red Keep of our rendezvous." 

"Oh fuck off."

Harwin reaches for the headboard, his knuckles turning white from his harsh grip, using it as leverage to pound harder. You chant his name, subconsciously clenching and unclenching around him, causing him to falter each time. 

That burning ache brews within you, gradually growing with each slide into you. His free hand comes down to your clit, playing with the bud and drawing you closer to the edge. Overwhelming sensations spark up your body, your legs starting to shake from the pleasure. 

"Harwin," you whine. 

"I know," he grits, picking up his pace. He hits parts of you that you never knew existed, fireworks erupting each time he enters you deeper, if that were possible. "Good girl, you're taking me so well, hmm?"

Your head is tilted up by his hand leaving the headboard to cup the side of your face, forcing your eyes on him. You struggle to keep your eyes open, a drowsy, drunken look coming across you. 

Without warning, you let go, bursting around him. "Gods, fuck!" Harwin calls your name, following you over. He couldn't last any longer, not after feeling you come undone from him. 

You gape in a silent moan, relishing in the feeling of him fill you up, his hips slowing but not yet relenting. You shiver from the sensitivity, thankful for when he stops. You struggle to hold contact, fatigue seeping in. 

You sigh at the feeling of him remove himself, your muscles relaxing and your spine calming. You don't see where Harwin moves off to, until he comes back and murmurs for you to spread your legs, gently wiping his seed from your thighs. 

For a moment, you wonder what happens now. Does he just leave? Does he stay? What happens between the two of you? Thoughts rummage, ruining your come down. 

"Hey," he brushes your forehead. "Come here." He pulls the sheets back, indicating for you to crawl underneath. All those thoughts are momentarily thrown out the window when he slides in beside you, pulling you to him. 

You lay in silence, your head on his chest and your hand playing with his loose curls. "What happens now?" You can't help but ask. 

"Now?" He hums, his chest vibrating. "You become my lady wife, and I fuck you whenever I please." 

You laugh, rolling further into him. "You better, now that I've given you my maidenhood." 

He pulls away slightly, making you look at him. "What? You told me that this wasn't your first-" he stops, reading the glint in your eye and the expression on your face. "You cheeky girl, almost gave me a heart failure." 

You grin cheekily, not quite saying anything whilst you comb his hair. You've found yourself with an obsession. "Leave your hair like this," you say lowly, loving the way it frames his face. 

"But it gets in my way," he grumbles, swatting your hand away. 

That is the crux of your relationship. Longing glances from across the room, a moment of flirtation that doesn’t lead everywhere. For now, it’s fun. Sneaking around, teasing each other in public, the possibilities of what could be existing in the inch of space between your lips when you have your back against the wall and his chest pressed against yours, never pushing further, but not pulling away. You’re both satisfied with it for now. But how long will it last before it’s no longer enough and you both must make the decision of either being together or forever apart?

A scream rises above the crowd, tearing your attention from him. Duty and loyalty to the princess takes over your body, and you stand in search for Rhaenyra immediately. You catch sight of her white hair and see as the thick crowd, now panicked, shove the princess aside.

“Rhaenyra!” you shout out to her, but no one hears you.

No one except for ser Harwin, who despite being so far from you and on the other side of the panicking crowd, sees you grab the knife you had been cutting your chicken with and head determinedly into the crowd to defend your friend. As frustrated he is by you endangering yourself, he can’t help but chuckle at the sight of your stubbornness, loyalty, and bravery. But worry overtakes him as you disappear into the throng of bodies, gone from his view.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his father motion for him to grab the princess. Harwin stretches his head to the left before shoving aside the person in front of him, then the person behind them and every else who stands in his way. He occasionally punches someone if they won’t move. As the crowd gets even thicker, he begins to use his body to barrel his way through. He does pretty much anything that needs to be done until he catches a glimpse of you again, now having made it to the princess’ side. Blood drips down your knife. The sleeve on your pretty blue dress is ripped, and he sees blood stains around it.

You turn and your eyes meet, as if you could just feel his presence when he came near enough.

“Ser Harwin,” you gasp out. “Take the princess to safety—OH!”

The floor disappears from under your feet.

You scream out as his large hands grasp your waist, and with barely a grunt, hoist you over his very broad shoulders. The heat from his hands is familiar, the grip on your waist drawing memories from two nights before, but in this moment, all you feel is anger and disbelief as you are carried away from Rhaenyra who is picked up in a similar position by another member of the city watch.

“Put me down, ser Harwin!” you shout. You slam your fists against his back, not that he’d feel it.

“Stop moving, my lady,” he says gruffly.

You twist around so you can see a glimpse of where you’re going. One hand is still wrapped around your legs to keep you from falling. His other hand is shoving people aside to clear a way.

“PUT ME DOWN!” You try to kick, but his grip tightens.

Then he slaps your ass.

“I said, stop moving!”

Realizing that this isn’t a fight you’re going to win, you huff and stay still as he fights through the rest of the room. Only out in the hall where it’s silent, empty, and dark, does he bend down to put you gently on the ground.

You slap his chest. “You were supposed to get the princess to safety!”

“I was getting my lady to safety first,” he says unabashedly.

“You can’t put me above Rhaenyra!”

“Can’t I?”

Heat floods your cheeks at his words. You look down and see that his hands are still gripping your waist, as if he’s still keeping you safe. Silence passes between you, only the sounds of his and yours heavy breathing filling the air. Gradually, your anger ebbs away, but still his grip doesn’t loosen.

“You can let go of me now, ser Harwin,” you say softly, breaking the silence.

He doesn’t. He steps forward, forcing you take a step backward. Forwards, back, forwards, back, your eyes never looking away from his until your back hits the wall. He takes a step forward. Then another. He’s much taller than you, and much broader. His entire presence looms over you, but you don’t feel terrified or small. If anything, you only feel protected. Secure.

Loved.

He reaches for his shirt and tears a strip from the bottom. You don’t protest as he dabs the blood on your arm before wrapping it over the wound. When he’s done, he bends down to press a kiss against it.

“Does it hurt?” he asks softly.

You shake your head. The scalding touch of him being so close to you yet not doing anything is more unbearable than the knife that cut you.

“Who did it?”

“Harwin.”

“People get hurt from fights all the time. No one will know it was intentional.”

You can’t stop the chuckle from escaping. He smiles softly at you and moves even closer so his forehead is resting against yours, his breath warm over your lips.

“You can’t do that again,” he says.

You look at him challengingly. “Can’t I?”

“No, you can’t. Stop risking yourself.”

“Rhaenyra is my friend, and I have a feeling that things are only going to get worse from here. I have to stay by her side and protect her.”

He sighs, and you know he understands that he can’t ask you to forsake your friendship with her. “Then I will stand by your side and protect you,” he says instead.

You raise your brows. “Oh, will you?”

“Enough of this hiding around and being on opposite ends of the room. I want to be by your side at all times.”

“And how will you do that, ser Harwin?”

He takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to the inside of your palm. “Marry me,” he says, and you feel everything in you stop until he is all you can see and think and feel.

“Marry me and be mine.”

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗍𝖽? 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗂𝗄𝗍𝗈𝗄 𝗌𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗌, 𝗇𝗈. 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗍𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗑 + 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗆 𝗂 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌? 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒.

𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽. 𝗂'𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾𝖽 (𝗋𝗂𝗉 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗆 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇). 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍'𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾

╰┈➤ 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘧!

"Is that right?" Frank asks, tilting his head with a mischievous glint in his eyes. His hands move down your body where they squeeze your ass, and he pulls you closer into him. "How about round four, hmm?"

"I have things to do that aren't you," You tell him stubbornly. "Now go, before I start to find you annoying and delete your number."

He fakes shock with a gasp, placing his hand on his chest. "You're breaking my heart, legs," He whines, before slowly sinking to his knees and nuzzling his face against your thighs. "C'mon. Just sit on my face again, mommy-"

You cut him off by grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling his head back, before leaning down and glaring at him. "Leave. Now."

Knowing not to push you, Frank does as you say, begrudgingly putting his clothes back on before walking out of your bedroom.

Not even five minutes of peace are granted to you before your door swings open again, making you groan with frustration. In walks Bucky, which only annoys you further.

"What do you want?" You ask, sitting down on the chaise lounge.

"Was that Castle I saw limping out of here?" He asks, narrowing his eyes.

You shrug, sinking lower in your seat. "Not my fault he's such a slut," You say simply.

"Says the one who's sent a different man limping home every day this week," He mumbles under his breath.

"Is that the only breach of privacy you wanna commit today, or do you have more bullshit to say to me?" You ask him with a glare.

He suddenly grimaces, turning his face. "Do you mind? It's 11 in the morning; I don't wanna see your pubes right now," He grumbles.

You tie up the gown with a snort and cross your right leg over your left.

Bucky looks disappointed as he looks around the room, taking in the empty bottles and filled ashtrays. "It's been three months, boss," He utters curtly, resting his hands on his hips. "You need to get your shit together."

"I don't need to do anything," You retort. "I'm the Queen of New York."

"Well, the Queen of New York needs a shower," He claps back, before narrowing his eyes. "And a shave."

"You can leave, now," You mumble.

He walks over to you, giving you a stern look. "Up, now. You have a meeting tonight," He says, looking you up and down. "And you gotta look good."

"Why?" You ask him with a frown.

"Because you're meeting the man that's gonna help us with our diamond-shaped problem," He says with a growing smirk.

Immediately, you sit up, and your eyes widen. "Seriously?" You scoff. "You got me a meeting with Stark?"

"The one and only," He replies smugly, before clapping his hands together. "Now, get your ass up and ready. You need to be ready by 7."

"That's, like, eight hours from now," You point out with a confused frown.

He raises his brow and looks away before mumbling, "And you'll need every minute."

Once you finally fit Bucky's beauty standards, he sends you on your way to the pretentious restaurant, which is filled with pretentious people who look too rich for their own good.

And the richest and most pretentious of all, of course, is your date.

"Have you tried the oysters here?" Tony asks you with a quirked brow. "They serve them with fried garlic, and it is divine."

Looking through the menu, you shake your head. "Can't say I have," You admit. "I usually get the ratatouille."

"Boring," He utters before smirking and raising his hand. "Garcon! We're ready to order."

He orders oysters and steak for the both of you, much to your chagrin as you were really looking forward to that fucking ratatouille, while you do your best to keep up a polite smile.

"And now she wants the Phantom, too," He finishes his long, long story with an incredulous scoff, before leaning forward and lowering his voice. "Word of advice, belle, don't get married. Or at least, not to a woman. They're vicious things, wives."

His words hit a nerve and you sit back in your seat, doing your best not to glare at him. "I appreciate the sordid tales, but I didn't come here to talk about marriage, Anthony," You remind him curtly. "I came here to-" You stop mid-sentence when you spot someone painfully familiar walking closer to you, and for a split second, you're convinced your heart has stopped beating.

It's as though time slows down. As though the other patrons and tables and lights and plates of food disappear into irrelevance and all you can see is him. That hasn't changed. The way everything loses significance when he's in the room. The way you realize that nothing could ever be as beautiful or captivating as him. Steve's hair is a little longer, his beard's a little thicker, and he's dressed like every other pretentious fat cat in the vicinity.

And he's being seated opposite the last person you wanted to see him with.

Natasha's grown out her hair, ditched the blonde, and gone back to her signature dark red, but you'd recognize her smug smirk through a paper bag. Neither of them notice you as the waiter talks them through the wine list but a stone's throw away from your table, and it takes every bit of your strength not to react.

"What is it?" Tony says suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Shaking your head, you clear your throat and sit up. "Nothing. I just... lost my train of thought," You say, noticing the impatient look in his eyes as he scans the room in search of a waiter.

"Let's get out of here and find a bar that sells real alcohol," He says arrogantly, turning his face and raising his hand once he spots a worker.

"No!" You say quickly out of panic as your eyes widen. Tony turns back to you, confused, and so you quickly reach out to rest your hand on his. "I want dessert. They do an amazing chocolate fondue here."

The fondue is sub-par, but something is making you want to stay. A certain blond-haired, blue-eyed something.

Tony narrows his eyes at you suspiciously just as the waiter approaches the table. "What can I do for you, Sir?" He asks politely with an expectant look.

For a few seconds, Tony says nothing, and you deflate. But then he holds up his hand. "Get us some fondue and fruit," He orders lowly, making you smile.

"Thank you," You say, feeling both relief and pure anxiety at the notion of being here any longer.

"This fondue better be incredible," Tony grumbles. "I wanted to go somewhere a little quieter, belle, so we could talk."

You know what he really means, so you flutter your eyelashes and smile sweetly at him, rubbing the back of his hand with your fingers. "We can talk here, Anthony," You say, tilting your head. "About whatever you want."

"Oh, really?" He asks you with a smirk as he becomes re-interested. "You mean you didn't just schedule this dinner because you need my help?"

"Of course that's part of it," You admit bashfully, slowly pulling off the thick, onyx ring from his middle finger. "But there's a reason I feel so comfortable coming to you for help. I wouldn't just wine and dine anyone."

He watches with amusement as you slip the ring onto your own finger, tilting his head. "And what's so great about me?" He asks, eagerly awaiting you to stroke his ego.

You open your mouth to answer but your eyes slip over to Steve again - and this time, he's looking back at you. Unsure as to when he noticed you were sitting there, you freeze in place. Fuck. What now?

Tony glances over his shoulder before looking back at you with a raised brow. "Ain't that the woman you want dead?" He asks.

Your eyes widen and you rip your gaze away from Steve, giving Tony all your attention. "What? No, I don't want Romanoff dead," You clarify. "She has something I need. Something she stole, that doesn't belong to her, over which she has no fucking right."

Taken aback by your passion, Tony whistles lowly. "Jeez. Must be something valuable, huh?" He theorizes.

Letting out a sigh, you rub your forehead. "It's a diamond. Rare and expensive," You explain.

"And she stole it from you?" He wonders.

"She might as well have," You grumble, before sitting back. "Look, I owe someone a debt, and this is how he wants it paid. I need the Elphora, and I don't know where the fuck she's stashed it."

"I see," He mutters, stroking his chin. "I'll have my guys look this over and see what we can do."

"Thank you, Anthony," You say with a smile. "I appreciate it. Really."

"Words are just words, belle," He says, smirking at you. "I need to see your appreciation through action, so I know you truly mean it."

Fuck's sake. You knew he wouldn't make it easy for you, but the thought of owing someone yet another debt is exhausting.

Glancing behind him, you see Natasha reach her hand out and place it on Steve's, stroking it. The sight fills you with a fiery rage, but you clench your jaw in an effort to contain yourself. Calling over a waiter, you wait until he walks over before leaning up to him.

"Do me a favor and send a bottle of the wine we had to that table over there," You request of him, nodding at Steve's table. The waiter nods and leaves.

"What's that about?" Tony questions you with a frown. "Sucking up to her?"

You shrug, leaning forward. "Something like that," You say before smiling at him and softening your voice. "Now, what were you saying? You want me to show my appreciation?"

Tony leans forward too, taking your hand in his and rubbing his finger over his ring you're still wearing. "I'm a very simple man, belle," He claims lowly. "I value the simple pleasures in life."

"Is that right?" You wonder, looking behind him at Steve who has just been served the bottle of wine you sent over. The waiter utters something to him and Natasha before all three of them glance over to you, and you give them a charming wave and smirk. Steve frowns, and you quickly look back at Tony.

"I wanna fuck you," He says bluntly, resting his chin on his hand.

Sighing, you sit back before uttering, "So much for subtlety."

"Subtlety is a waste of time with a woman in your position," Tony tells you smugly. "You're desperate for my help. You need a favor. This is my condition."

Tapping the table, you glance back over at Steve. Natasha's pouring him some wine, and he laughs softly at something she says before taking a long sip. He then looks at you, his smile faltering when he catches your eye. Once again, everything around you fades into irrelevance.

Snap out of it. He doesn't trust you. He hasn't tried to contact you once since you left him. He's sitting there on a date with Natasha fucking Romanoff. Who knows how long they've been seeing each other?

You turn your attention back to Tony and give him a smile. "Your place or mine?"

His smirk deepens. "And I'm supposed to believe that bedding the Queen of New York is that easy?" He asks you incredulously.

It makes you feel nauseous to be flirting with him when Steve is so close, but you tell yourself to toughen up and bite the bullet. You can see that Steve's watching through your peripheral vision, but you're glad that he is, because you want to hurt him as much as he's hurt you.

No, more.

Feeling as though the cold-hearted Queen you once knew has returned from the dead to possess your body, you stand up and walk across to Tony before sitting on his lap and draping your arms around his shoulders. He doesn't protest as you lean down and bring your lips to his, engaging him in a heated kiss. You can hear the blood rushing in your head as your ears pound. Tony's fingers digging into your hips feel like blunt daggers. The warmth from his body is cold and repelling, but you don't pull away. Is that the sound of Steve's heart breaking, or just Tony's teeth clashing against yours? His tongue isn't as sweet as Steve's, whose mouth is usually occupied with the lingering taste of cupcakes or cookies or brownies. The kiss is stale and loveless; a reflection of your life for the past three months.

Tony's the first to pull away. "As much as I'm enjoying warring with your tongue," He begins with a cocky grin. "Why don't you let me get the bill and take you back to my condo, rather than give all these nice people a peep show?"

Nodding, you get off of him and smooth down your dress. "I'm gonna go to the ladies room," You tell him, unable to spare Steve another glance before rushing off to the bathroom, not wanting to see the look on his face.

Just as you reach out to push the door to the women's bathroom open, you're pulled away. Prepared to grab your gun from your garter, you tense your muscles, relaxing when your back hits the wall and you're faced with none other than the owner of Stevie's Sweeties.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" You ask him gravely, glaring at him. Your heart is pounding in your chest and all you can think of to do is be cold and brutish, a defense mechanism you've had your whole life.

"We need to talk," Steve tells you, furrowing his brows.

"No, Steven, we don't," You counter curtly. "You said more than enough the day I walked out, which ironically wasn't much at all."

"This isn't about you and I," He informs you. "It's about the diamond."

His words only serve to offend you and your ego is bruised, because a small part of you was hoping he was about to beg you to take him back.

"What do you know about the diamond?" You interrogate him incredulously.

"More than you," He claims. "Natasha-"

"I don't know what the fuck you think this is, Steven, but I'm not about to sit here discussing my job with you," You cut him off coldly.

Ignoring you, he continues, "There's more to this than you think. That diamond never belonged to Maximoff. Not rightfully, anyway."

"Oh, please," You scoff. "Is that what Tasha told you?"

"No," He says, taking you by surprising. "This goes deeper than you know."

"Don't patronize me," You hiss, pushing him back. "I don't give a fuck who the diamond belongs to. Pietro wants it, and I owe it to him."

"And you're gonna use that guy to get it?" Steve asks you bitterly.

You smirk, tilting your head. "Aw, are you jealous?" You ask him with faux sympathy. "Was it hard watching me kiss him, button?"

Clenching his jaw, he steps backwards. "Just hear me out, Y/N-"

"I'd rather go back to Stark's place and fuck him," You say bluntly. "Thanks for the offer, though."

"Y/N," He whispers, his broken tone making your chest ache.

Stay focused.

"Goodbye, Steve," You bid him, beginning to walk away while calling out, "Have fun fucking Tasha."

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Quickly, you turn it off before rubbing your forehead. When you hear Steve and Tasha continuing with their insufferable smalltalk, you pull out your earpiece and huff.

Shuri frowns at you but says nothing, knowing better than to piss you off when you're already in a bad mood. You've been in a bad mood for three days, which is how long Steve has been hardly talking to you and ignoring all your calls.

"He doesn't wanna marry me," You mumble blankly, staring at the screen which is showing you the view from the tiny camera in Steve's shirt pocket. For now, all you can see is Natasha showing him through to the kitchen.

"Huh?" Shuri asks, narrowing her eyes.

"Steve," You elaborate lowly. "He doesn't wanna marry me."

"You asked him to marry you?" Shuri asks you incredulously as she turns to you. "You've been together for like, two weeks!"

"Three months, actually," You correct her. "And that was long enough for me to know. Not for him, though."

"He said no?" She questions in disbelief, finding it hard to believe that Steve could ever reject you.

You shrug, focusing on the loose string on your trousers while trying to hide the hurt in your voice. "He didn't say yes."

"What did he say?" She presses with wide eyes.

"Nothing," You tell her with a shrug. "We got interrupted. And ever since, he's been... distant. Won't pick up my calls, then texts me two hours later saying he was busy. Even today, while Sam was wiring him up, he barely looked at me, let alone spoke to me. I just stood back and let Sam brief him."

"I mean, we have to remember that this guy was engaged to Carter," Shuri reminds you pointedly. "The word marriage is probably synonymous with the bullshit she put him through. You need to give him some time to process it. Marriage a heavy thing, especially when you've got previous trauma attached to it."

Your brows shoot up as you suck in a sharp breath, realization hitting you. Fuck. "You're right. I didn't even connect the dots. God, I'm an idiot."

"Well, that's a problem you can deal with later," She says, sitting up. "Right now, we just need Steve to keep her distracted while Sam gets that fuckin' diamond."

You put the earpiece back on, swallowing your rage when you hear Natasha's giggles.

"Yeah, about that, Shuri," Sam's voice suddenly cuts in through your earpiece. "The diamond ain't here."

Putting your microphone on, you frown. "The fuck do you mean? Did you find the-"

"I'm standing in the jewel room," He tells you. "I see plenty of diamonds, but not the Elphora."

"Seriously?" You ask with a scoff. "It's big, green, and ugly. You can't miss it."

"Which is why I can say with absolute certainty that it is not here," Sam states firmly. "I'm sorry, boss. Romanoff must've put it in a bank, or gifted it to someone else."

"There's no way; that thing is worth millions," You tell him, shaking your head.

"Then she sold it," He theorizes. "I'm gonna get out of here before someone sees me."

You slump down in your chair, taking off your comms and sighing. "Fuck's sake," You mutter.

"What now?" Shuri asks you, watching as you get up to your feet and begin to pace the office.

Collecting your thoughts, you nod. This is good. Crisis is good. Crisis means you can focus on work rather than Steve.

"We'll do some research," You decide, resting your hands on your desk. "Find out if the Romanoffs still have ownership of the Elphora, or if they've given it up."

"And what if we find out she's sold it to someone halfway across the world?" Shuri asks, concern in her voice.

You let out a long sigh and shrug. "Then, we hope to God that Pietro can settle for something else to pay off his favor," You state simply. "Knowing him, though, he won't change his mind. No matter what, we need to get our hands on that diamond. I'll hold a meeting tomorrow and let everyone know."

"Okay," She says, standing up. "And... what about Steve?"

Raising a brow, you stand up straight. "What about him?"

"Are you gonna talk to him?" She wonders. "Try and figure stuff out?"

"Your job doesn't include chatting about my personal life," You say coldly. "Our priority right now is that diamond. That is the only thing I wanna hear you being concerned about. Got it?"

Pursing her lips together, Shuri takes a few steps backwards, nodding. "Got it, boss."

You take a thick gulp of whiskey before slamming the empty glass onto the desk. Pietro raises a brow, sitting back in his chair.

"What's wrong, hmm?" He asks lowly, watching you curiously. "What's troubling my angel?"

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you sink down in your seat. "Your diamond," You reply bluntly. "She ain't in Romanoff's mansion."

He purses his lips at the news. "And?" He utters. "Wherever it is, your job is to find it, not complain about the difficulty of doing so."

"I don't know what you want me to do, Maximoff," You grumble. "She might have sold it, or stored it in a bank-"

"So, track it down," He orders you coldly. "I don't care if the diamond is on the moon. You build a fucking rocketship, fly up there, and get it. Do you understand me?"

Clenching your jaw, you hold back your irritation and simply nod. "I didn't come here to tell you I can't do it," You say firmly. "I came to ask you for more time."

He holds his hands up, smiling at you. "By all means, angel, take as long as you need. I'm in no rush," He says calmly before his gaze hardens. "But you know better than most not to test my patience."

You tighten your hands into fists but remain calm. "You'll get your diamond soon," You promise him. "I just need to do some research. Find out what the fuck she's done with it."

"Good," Pietro replies shortly, sitting up. "I really wouldn't want to have to assume that you've failed to follow through with what you owe me."

"I won't fail. I don't fail," You affirm, furrowing your brows while a bout of anxiety swims in your gut. You cannot fail.

Steve walks into his house, holding a box of leftover treats from the bakery as he prepares to have a quiet night in. He kicks the door shut behind him and walks into his kitchen, setting the box down on the counter before going to his fridge to pull out the half-empty glass of wine from the night before. After debating whether to bother with a glass or not, he mutters a 'fuck it' before grabbing the box and making his way into the living room.

He uses the top of the bottle to flick on the light switch and almost shits himself when he sees you sitting on his dead grandfather's armchair.

"What the heck?" He squeaks with wide eyes, his grip on the box tightening. "You can't just break into my- how long have you been sitting there in the dark?"

Your gaze is stern as you train it on him, clenching your jaw. "You didn't mind when I broke in to make you pancakes," You remind him with a quirked brow. "Oh. I see. You don't like me anymore?"

Still breathing heavily, he places the wine and the box onto the table before sitting on the couch opposite you, rubbing his face for a few seconds before frowning. "What are you talking about?"

A scoff leaves your mouth. "Are you fucking kidding me? You've been ignoring me all week," You say with irritation.

With a shrug, he stands up. "I don't know. Maybe I needed some space," He says casually, confusing you even further.

You stand up too, narrowing your eyes. "Well, fuck, I wish you woulda told me that," You utter bitterly. "I've been losing my mind for the past five days."

"So have I," He counters stubbornly.

"Oh, yeah?" You ask with a scoff. "Seems to me like you've been enjoying sucking up to Romanoff. She's been visiting the bakery every day since making that order; maybe you have a little crush on her, huh?"

"And what if I do?" Steve pushes immaturely.

Taken aback his audacity, you tilt your head. "Is that right? You've realized you want her more than you want me? You wanna fuck her, Steve?"

"I might," He states firmly. "I might, Y/N. Maybe I already have."

You snort, rolling your eyes. "Oh, please. Don't make me laugh, Rogers."

"It's hardly a secret that she wants to sleep with me," He says arrogantly, conflict clear in his eyes. "Maybe she was convincing enough."

"To seduce you? You, who is in love with me?" You scoff. "What is wrong with you, Steve? Why are you being like this?"

"I'm not being like anything," He claims flippantly, moving closer to you.

"Yes, you are!" You yell.

"Like what?" He yells back as his cheeks tinge pink.

"Like you're just trying to make me angry for the sake of it!" You say, frustrated to no end.

"Maybe I am!" He retorts, practically in your face.

"Why?" You all but scream incredulously.

"Maybe I wanna see if I can make you angry enough to hit me!" He admits suddenly, immediately causing a cold silence to take over the room.

Neither of you say anything at first. It takes you a few seconds to process his words as you stumble backwards, your lips parting as your eye twitches. Horrified, you move further back before finally speaking.

"Steve," You utter gravely. "Steven, what the fuck?"

A shaky breath leaves his mouth as he looks down, unable to meet your eyes. "I just... wanna know," He mumbles, sounding defeated.

Placing a hand on your racing heart, you shake your head. "Do you really think that I could ever...?"

He doesn't reply, but his lack of response is answer enough.

Stunned, you take another step back, hitting the wall. "You don't trust me," You whisper as your vision blurs. "Are you afraid of me?"

He swallows thickly before saying, "No."

But you're not convinced. "Steven, what the fuck?" You say, your voice cracking.

The two of you continue to stare at one another in silence, and you feel like your entire world has just come crashing down around you. Your chest aches, and your hands are shaking. Though it kills you to do it, you know what you have to do. If being with you is a source of fear for him, how could you ever keep him in this situation?

"If you're afraid of me, Steve, if you don't trust that I mean it when I say that I love you and would protect you with my life, then..." You trail off, shaking your head. "Then I guess this is over."

Still, he remains silent. You'd be lying if you said you didn't want him to beg you to stay. To tell you that he was just upset about something else and taking it out on you. But he doesn't. He says nothing while you turn around and walk out of his home. And out of his life.

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Part 12 >

He grumbles on his way to the back door, slamming it open and preparing for a long day at work. It may only be 6am, but he knows damn well that you're awake. You're always awake.

Hours pass by. It seems like every couple in New York chose today to come into his parlor and have a dessert date, which only annoys him more. Where's his date?

When you haven't messaged or called him by midday, he turns his phone off. If you don't want to contact him, he'll make it impossible for you to. It may be immature, but he doesn't care. He's sick of getting excited when his phone rings out with notification, only for it to be from anyone but you.

He closes the bakery at 6pm, as always, before making his way home. Part of him is tempted to turn his phone back on and call you, but he won't let himself give in so easily. Instead, he buys himself a large pizza and takes it home, where he'll sit alone, and eat it alone, and watch TV. Alone.

"Happy anniversary, Steven," He grumbles bitterly to himself while turning the key in his door. "What a special day."

Entering his small house, he slams the door shut behind him before tossing the keys on the stairs and making his way to the living room. When he walks in, though, his heart skips a beat and he drops the pizza.

"What the heck?" He whispers, eyes wide and heart racing.

There you stand in his living room which you've done your best to decorate. Half of the room is filled with flowers, from hydrangeas to tulips. Candles are lit and sitting on every surface, chocolate covered strawberries and champagne await him, and you yourself are in a silky red dress with a high leg slit; the one you wore on your first date.

"Happy anniversary, Steven," You say with a coy smile.

"I- what?" He sputters, taking a few steps further into the room. "What is this?"

"It's our special day," You reply with a grin. "Surprise."

His lips part. "This... is this why you've been ignoring me all day?"

Biting your lip, you shrug. "That's what- it's romantic, right? Make you think I'm not doing anything then... surprise!"

"No, I just- I've spent all day assuming you'd forgotten, or didn't care," He whines lowly, despite how much he just wants to grab you and hold you.

Your heart breaks as you step forward, concern in your eyes. "Oh, my baby, I'm so sorry," You apologize, rushing over to him. "I didn't mean to upset you; I thought it would be fun."

He pouts slightly, feeling like a brat but not caring because he knows he can get away with it.

With a sigh, you take his hand in yours. "Look, button, I'm gonna be honest... I've never really had an anniversary with anyone," You admit sheepishly. "I've only ever seen what people do on TV; I don't know what real people do."

"They just spend time together," He says softly. "Maybe buy a gift- not an entire flower garden."

"You don't like it," You say gravely, feeling like a total idiot.

"No, baby, I love it," He promises, placing his hands on your hips. "I'm sorry for being ungrateful-

"No, I understand-"

"It's just been so hard not talking to you all day," He finishes, pulling you closer. "Missed you."

"I missed you, too," You reply with a smile, leaning up to gently kiss his lips.

"You look absolutely beautiful. I love you in that dress," He breathes out, looking you up and down before glancing around the room. "This all looks incredible, I- is that a cake?"

You bite your lip as you nod slowly. "Uh, yeah... I thought, you know, nobody makes cake for the baker, so why don't I make my baker a cake?"

"You made it yourself?" He asks incredulously, letting out a laugh as he walks over to where it's placed on the table. It's flat and round with jagged edges, and a sad attempt to ice the words '3 Months' is on top in pink.

"Sure did, button," You say proudly. "Though, I'm not sure how good it's gonna be. I forgot to add the sugar. And the eggs."

Snorting, he leans down to break off a piece. "I'm sure it tastes amazing," He says sweetly, taking a bite of it. His face twists as he chews it, grimacing.

"Stevie, you don't have to-"

"Tastes great," He claims through gritted teeth as he swallows it down. "You really, really shouldn't have, baby."

"It's inedible, button," You huff. "Stop buttering me up; you do enough of that at work."

Steve shakes his head before turning back to you and gently pulling you closer to him. "How about we leave the baking to me, hmm?" He suggests, smirking. "And you can stick to doing what you do best."

"Which is?" You ask curiously.

He leans closer to you, until his lips are brushing against yours. "Being the prettiest girl in the whole world."

"Oh, shut it, you sap," You grumble, kissing him nonetheless. "You know, I really thought this surprise would have you on your knees for me."

"Always on my knees for you," Steve mumbles against your lips. "S'that what mommy wants?"

"I didn't expect you to walk in with such a bratty attitude," You say lowly cupping his chin. "Thought you'd be begging to please me; to let me do whatever I want to you."

"You can do whatever you want to me," He says earnestly. "What do you wanna do to me?"

Looking up, you meet his eyes and slowly trace your fingers down his chest. "I wanna fuck you, puppy."

"Then fuck me, mommy," He whispers. "I'm yours."

Ten minutes later, Steve is face down on the pillows on his bed, eagerly waiting for you.

You're on your knees behind him, lubing up the dildo strapped to your waist. With a raised brow, you stroke his thigh. "Are you sure you're ready for this, button?"

After weeks of only using your tongue and fingers on his tight hole, Steve is craving for you to fill him up properly. He's already breathing heavily in anticipation, his lips curling up in a smile. "Yes, mommy. I'm ready. Please."

The dildo itself isn't too big, but it's definitely bigger than your fingers. Slowly, you bring it to his ass, making him gasp. You smear the lube around with the tip of it, before carefully pushing it into him.

"Oh, my God," He whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling.

"Are you okay, button?" You ask him, stopping when you're around two inches in. "Too much?"

He takes in a few deep breaths before opening his eyes and turning his face to you. "Deeper."

You bite your lip at his request before slowly edging further in, making him whine.

"Oh, yes," He cries, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets. "Mommy, so good."

Once you're all the way in, you pull back out, making him moan louder than ever. With a smirk, you build up a pace and start fucking into him, not too hard or fast at first.

"My puppy's taking it so well," You coo, stroking his hair. "Being such a good boy for me, baby."

"Mo-ommy," He cries weakly as the bed creaks beneath him. "Faster, please."

"Yeah? You want it faster, you little slut?" You tease, doing as he asks as you speed up your thrusts.

"Oh, oh, fuck, yeah," He sputters as his eyes roll back in pleasure. His dick rubs against the duvet with each of your thrust, the pleasure overwhelming him.

You fuck into him harder, spanking his pretty ass a few times and watching it redden instantly. Steve's cock twitches against the bed and he shudders, feeling his climax approach.

"Can I cum, mommy?" He asks you obediently.

Leaning forward, you place a soft kiss to his back. "You've been such a good boy for me tonight," You coo gently. "Cum for me, baby."

With staggered breath, he lets go, grunting as you thrust harder into him. His cum shoots out in spurts, making him cry out loudly.

"Yes, mommy!" He sings with utter delight. "So good."

You slow down your thrusts before carefully pulling out of his throbbing hole. Steve's left quivering on the bed as he comes down from his high, whimpering for you.

Pulling off the strap, you collapse next to him, smiling warmly at him as you stroke his cheek. "You were so good for me, pup," You whisper gently. "Made mommy proud."

His eyes light up at that as he moves closer to you. "Really?"

"Really, baby," You promise. "You made me so proud."

Swallowing thickly, he trails his hand down your stomach. "I- I wanna make mommy feel good," He mumbles bashfully, stroking his fingers over your tuft of hair before finding your folds which he spreads apart in search of your clit.

You're already soaking wet when he starts to touch you, rubbing gentle circles on your bud. You let out a string of moans as the sound of your wet pussy fills the room.

"Just like that, puppy," You groan. "Inside."

Obeying you, he gradually slips his already pruning up fingers inside you, whimpering as he feels your warmth around his digits. Steve then starts to pump them in and out of you, determined to make you cum.

"Don't stop," You beg him, throwing your head back. "Please, don't stop, button."

"I won't stop, mommy," He vows, going harder and faster. "Not until you cum."

Your hips buck up against his hand and he bites his lip, watching as you writhe and moan beneath him.

"You're so beautiful," Steve whispers with awe in his eyes, bringing his lips to your ear. "I love you."

Grabbing his free hand, you feel your heart skip a beat. "Say that again, puppy," You order him lowly.

"I love you, mommy," He whines, fingering you faster as you feel your pleasure approach its peak. "I love you so, so much."

With that, you feel a rush of electric bliss hit you as you cum all over his fingers. "Oh, fuck," You cry out, squeezing your thighs together around his hand. "So good, puppy, so good."

He watches with adoration as you slowly come down, breathing heavily. His fingers slip out of you and he leans over you, scanning your face.

Looking up at him, you smile widely. "These past three months have been the best of my life. I love you, Steven," You tell him earnestly. "More than anything."

"I love you, my electric girl," He mumbles back with pink cheeks. "More than anything."

"I want your sweet buttercream."

"Stop."

"Want your... I want your tight little ganache."

"Y/N, that's enough-"

"I want your fat cock, Steve-"

"Oh, my God," He grumbles, holding back his laughter. "I told you, when I'm working on wedding cakes, you cannot be distracting me!"

"I'm sorry!" You claim with a chuckle, leaning against the freezer door. "I just love seeing you smile."

"Decorating wedding cakes makes me smile," He utters while concentrating on piping out the white buttercream onto the cake.

You watch him with a warm grin, enjoying seeing his talent shine through. The hair nets on his hair and beard make you chuckle softly to yourself. After a few moments of thoughtful silence, you speak again. "Question, button."

"Go ahead, my darling," He mumbles absentmindedly.

"Are you gonna make our wedding cake?" You ask casually, playing with the bride and groom cake toppers sitting on the counter.

He stops piping and looks up at you, before letting out a soft laugh. "There's no way you're marrying me."

Raising a brow, you let go of the toppers and take a step closer to him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I... you're my dream girl," He says curtly. "I don't get to marry my dream girl; that would be insane. That's not how life works. Especially not mine."

"Steve, what?" You scoff, utterly baffled at his thought process.

"The fact that we're dating at all?" He asks incredulously. "I'm pushing my luck already, but I'll make the most of it while it lasts."

Slightly offended at his disbelief, you cross your arms over your chest. "You know I don't just date anyone, Steven. I'm in this for the long run."

"What's long for you?" He asks with a frown.

"Your dick," You answer, unable to ignore the perfect opportunity.

"No, I mean what's long for you in terms of relationships?" Steve questions you curiously.

With a shrug, you move closer to him. "Forever."

He somehow looks taken aback. "You want me forever?"

You nod before confirming, "Forever."

"What if you get bored?" He interrogates you with a raised brow.

Feigning contemplation, you bite your lip. "You know what? I didn’t think about that."

"Yeah, and what about when you get sick of seeing my face every day?" He presses, putting down the piping bag.

"Hmm," You nod slowly, playing along. "Valid point."

"And- and when you're finally annoyed by the whole pretentious baker thing; like, get a real job, guy," He states with an eye-roll.

"Steve," You say lowly.

"Yeah?" He asks with an expectant look.

You take in a breath, though your next phrase doesn't need any second-guessing or debate. "Marry me."

His face drops, his lips parting in shock. Steve feels his hands tremble as he wonders if he heard you right, as the image of you in a wedding dress flashes across his mind. "Huh?" Is all he can say.

Before you get the chance to say anything else, the bell at the front rings out, signaling that there's a waiting customer.

You give him a small smile. "You should probably go see to that, button."

"Yes," Steve says firmly, before clearing his throat and nodding. "Yes, I do. I mean, I should."

Watching him make his way to the front, you bite your lip. What's wrong with you? Proposing like it's nothing? As if someone as fucked up as you deserves someone like him?

Sighing, you shake your head. You've always known you were selfish, but this is a little too far. You'd ruin him.

Once it's been a few minutes and he still hasn't returned, you curiously venture to the doorway to check on him. When you hear a familiar voice paired with a familiar head of blonde hair, you huff. Of course.

"I was thinking about your offer," Natasha tells Steve with a coy smile as she places her hand on top of his. "And I would love to hire you for my sister's birthday party this weekend. I want it to be classy; no cupcakes or brownies."

"I understand," Steve replies politely. "I can do some nice macarons for you, maybe some chocolate truffles?"

"Sounds perfect!" She exclaims. "I'd also love some of those gorgeous mini lemon tarts that you do."

"I can do that," He assures her. "Will that be all?"

"That should be fine; it's only a private soiree," She informs him. "Could I get 50 of each?"

"Absolutely," Steve replies while making a quick note of the order. "And this is for Saturday evening?"

"Yes; are you able to drop them off, any time before 7?" She inquires curiously. "If so, I can pay you in person on the day."

You roll your eyes at her tactics. Those are your tactics. And that's your Steve.

Once they come to an agreement and she finally leaves, you make your way out to the front. Noticing your arrival, Steve lifts up the receipt. "I did it."

"You did, button, good job," You praise him warmly, before frowning. "You should've made her pay in advance. That's a lot of work for you to do."

He shrugs, "I just went with whatever she wanted. I didn’t want to risk her changing her mind, or anything."

"Right," You say with a nod, looking at your watch. "Well, it's 6. Let me take you home."

Glancing down at the receipt, he rubs the back of his neck. "Uh, I should probably stay a while; make a start on this order. I only have a few days, and I wanna get as much prep done as I can - plus, I have that wedding cake that needs to be done by Friday."

Slowly nodding, you take a step back. "Right. Of course. Do you want me to stay with you?"

Why does it feel like there's an elephant in the room that both of you are refusing to acknowledge?

"That's okay, you don't need to stay. I need to concentrate, anyway," Steve replies, turning away from you to start writing down the ingredients he needs to set out.

He was perfectly able to concentrate before you dropped the proposal-shaped bomb.

Feeling awkward and as though your presence is unwanted, you wince. A part of you wants to call him out for being weird, but a bigger part is too proud to do that. Instead, you wallow in the tense silence, wondering if he's thinking what you really hope he isn't.

Was it too much to ask him to marry you? Was he giving you an out earlier when he said he didn't expect this relationship to last very long? Did he say that because he didn't want it to last very long?

"Well, I should head out," You announce as casually as possible. "Got some business to take care of."

"Okay," Steve replies shortly, making your whole body freeze up.

You open your mouth to tell him you love him, but in this moment, you realize you've forgotten how.

"Steve?" You whisper, feeling your heart pounding in your chest.

Finally, he looks back at you, an unreadable look on his face. "Yes?"

Please, tell me you love me. Please, remind me how to pronounce the words. Please, tell me I'm your dream girl and that you want nothing more than to marry me.

"Please," You begin weakly, before clearing your throat. "Uh, please, let me know when you get home safe."

He slowly nods before saying, "I will," and returning to his notes.

Fuck.

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Part 11 >

"Well, he is my puppy," You mumble with a smirk, leaning down to kiss his forehead and making him blush. "Aren't you, Princess Peachy?"

"Mhm," Steve replies sweetly, nuzzling into you with a lazy smile.

"I want that. I'm horny," She whines, throwing her head back.

Your hand tightens around Steve instinctively. "So, grab one of the guys and fuck 'em," You suggest with a shrug. "Just don't upset them. You know how mopey they get, and I don't want you distracting them from their work."

"But it's different with a boyfriend," She goes on to complain. "You can do whatever nasty, freaky shit you want when you're in a relationship. One night stands are boring. I want what you guys have."

"Us?" Steve asks her with a soft laugh, turning to face her.

"Yeah! I mean, Y/N fucks the shit out of you, right? I'm surprised I haven't seen you limping yet, blondie," She comments flippantly.

"Limping?" He repeats, utterly confused.

"She's drunk; ignore her," You say, giving her a pointed look. "Shut up, Shuri."

"Isn't your ass sore? How are you laying on your back?" She questions him curiously. "And where are all the bruises? I mean, the hickeys are cute and all, but didn't you guys just have sex before this? No hand marks around your throat? No cuff dents in your wrist-"

"Alright, Shuri, that is way more than you ever needed to say," You cut her firmly while Sam and Bucky piss themselves with laughter.

"Just saying," She sings with a shrug. "I guess he's a lot more durable than your other lovers."

Steve is utterly baffled. Frozen on your lap, he says nothing. Leaning down, you give him a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Don't listen to her, button. She's drunk."

"Yeah," He mumbles, his brows furrowing slightly. "She's drunk."

Your lips are on Steve's in a fervent kiss, a fiery desire taking over you. With him beneath you, you straddle his hips, grinding your crotch against his boner. He whimpers into the kiss, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Please, mommy," He whines. "Promise I've been good." Instinctively, your hand moves up to grab his throat- but when you realize what you're doing, you quickly let go. "Don't do that," He mumbles, pulling away from the kiss.

"I'm sorry, button, I didn't mean to," You apologize, angry at yourself for taking it too far.

"No, I mean... don't let go," Steve corrects himself, his wide eyes meeting yours. Slowly, timidly, he takes your hand and puts it back around his neck.

"Stevie," You say firmly, moving your hand up to his face instead. "This isn't just something we start doing. This is a conversation that needs to be had - agreements that need to be made."

"So, let's make them," He says, sitting up with you on his lap. "I want to do everything you want to do, mommy. Teach me."

Your mind races with possibilities. Fuck. You need to be careful with the amount of power he's giving you right now. "It's one thing being submissive to me, and it's a whole other thing if we bring rough play into it," You warn him. "I love you, and I love the sex we have. We don't have to get intense for me to enjoy it, trust me."

"But I want to," He insists. "I love you, and I trust you. I'm ready to take this further."

Holy shit, he's so fucking sexy.

Taking in a deep breath, you give him a blank look. "Alright. First, you need to know that you are in control. Even when it seems like you're not, you are. Understand?"

"I understand," He says eagerly.

"We should decide on a safeword for if you ever want to stop," You suggest. "Or, if you'd prefer, we can use the traffic light system. Green means continue, amber means ease up, and red means stop."

"The traffic lights sound good," Steve utters, his heart racing with excitement.

"Alright, we'll go with that," You decide with a small smile. "I don't know about your previous experience when it comes to rough sex, baby, but is there anything in particular you want me to do?"

"I..." He trails off, his cheeks flushing red as he looks down.

"Don't be shy, puppy, it's only me," You coo, stroking his face. "I know it feels weird saying it out loud, so how about you show me, instead?"

Slowly, his eyes flicker back up to yours. He places his hand on top of yours and brings it down to his throat, making you shiver.

"Choking," You state with a nod, doing your best to keep composed. "That's good. I can do that. What else, button?"

He then shyly takes your same hand and brings it back up to his cheek, his eyes begging you to understand what he means.

Tilting your head, you frown. "Hmm?"

Letting out a shaky breath, he lifts your hand up an inch before gently bringing it back down onto his cheek.

Getting what he means, you smile widely. "Ah. You want me to slap your pretty face, puppy?"

"Y- yes," Steve confirms lowly. "Please, mommy."

"And what about your ass?" You question him coyly. "Want mommy to spank your ass?"

He nods excitedly, his eyes lighting up. 

"Need you to say it, baby," You tell him, leaning closer to him. "Use your words, like a good boy."

"I want mommy to spank me," He says lowly, blinking up at you.

"That's my good little button," You praise him, giving him a soft kiss. "I think that's more than enough for today. I don't want to overwhelm you."

"Okay," He whispers, cheeks still pink.

You get off his lap and kneel beside him, giving him a curious look. "Have you been good or bad today, Stevie?"

Swallowing thickly, his fingers twitch. His instincts immediately tell him to promise he's been a good boy for you - but good boys don't get spanks.

"That lady came to the bakery again today," He informs you, nerves filling him. "The pretty, blonde one."

"Yeah?" You ask, holding back your smirk. "Did she flirt with you again?" Part of you wants to be pissed off because you know he isn't just making this up for the bedroom, but you're too turned on by the puppy eyes he's giving you to care right now. 

"She did," He confirms, his stomach flipping. "I even threw in an extra cinnamon bun to her order, for free."

"You did, did you?" You question him, raising a brow. "You like her, or something?"

"She's nice," He comments, biting his lip as he does his best to rile you up.

"And what have I told you, huh?" You ask sternly. "Nice girls aren't to be trusted."

"She's pretty," He says with a coy smile. "I'm sorry, mommy. I didn't mean to flirt with her."

"Oh, but you did, button," You state threateningly, clenching your jaw. "Take off your pants and get on your hands and knees. Now."

He's quick to obey you, which makes you smirk. Dick swaying as he awaits your next words, Steve rests on his arms, arching his back like the natural-born slut he is.

"You've been a bad little puppy," You say warningly, slowly dragging your hand up his thigh and making him shiver. "And bad little puppies need to be punished."

Sucking in a breath, Steve feels his heart race. It's finally happening. Holy shit. He really hopes he doesn't cum too quick.

Without warning, you spank his ass, making him suck in a breath. Immediately, his skin turns bright red, the print of your hand clearly outlined. You smirk, stroking over the sore area before spanking him again. "Count for me, button. Out loud," You demand, spanking him for a third time.

"Th- three," He whispers, pressing his face down against the pillow. "Three, mommy- ah! Four."

You give him a few more, stopping once you get to seven. Steve whimpers and whines, his cock pressing against his stomach as it leaks with precum. Breathing heavily, he waits with anticipation for your next move.

"My naughty little puppy wants to be treated like a slut, hmm?" You say teasingly, running a few fingers down his spine. Leaning down, you press a few soft kisses to his inner thigh, making him shiver. When you reach his puckered hole, he gasps, his hands clenching the sheets beneath him. "Is this okay, button?"

"Green," He replies confidently.

Laughing, you stick out your tongue before running it over his hole, making him whimper. A few more coy licks later, you gently press your tongue inside, getting off on his moans as he gradually gets louder.

"Mommy," He cries out. "Feels so good."

Feeling your pussy throb between your legs, you reach a hand down to touch yourself, getting off on his pleasure. He bucks his hips against your face as you fuck him with your tongue, rubbing your clit and moaning against him.

"Just like that," He gasps, humping the bed desparately as his cock brushes against the covers. "Oh, my God. That feels fucking incredible, mommy, fuck."

Your fingers work quicker against your clit as you feel your climax building up, and you become even more determined to make him cum. He writhes and rubs against the bed harder while you eat his ass, crying out in bliss. 

"Mommy, please," He sings, rutting his hips as his cock twitches. "So close. So good."

His words and moans bring you to the edge, pulling your orgasm forward as you gush all over your fingers. Your legs squeeze together as you continue tongue-fucking him, gradually coming down from your high. With a grunt, Steve cums not long after you, all over his stomach and chest with a cry. You pull away from his ass and flip him over, smirking down at his weakened state.

He lets out short whimpers, reaching his hand out to you with parted lips. You lean down to kiss him while running your fingers over his stomach, gathering his cum. Bringing it up to his mouth, you pull away from the kiss. "Open, puppy," You order him gently, to which he happily complies. Placing your fingers on his tongue, you watch he sucks them clean, keeping his eyes on yours. He can taste your pussy on them, combined with his own seed, making him groan. "That's a good boy." Gradually, you feed him the rest, saving a few drops for yourself. He bites his lips as you swallow him cum, swallowing thickly.

Leaning forward, you give him another sweet kiss, before collapsing down next to him, catching your breath. Steve turns to pull you closer, muttering incoherent words as he kisses and sucks on your neck, while you slowly drift off.

An hour later, once you've both showered and changed, Steve's head is on your lap while you're sitting up on his bed, smoking and watching cartoons.

Your free hand is in his hair as you gently rub his scalp, making him sigh with content. Curiously, you smirk down at him. "Anyone ever done that to you before, button?"

Immediately, he knows what you're referring to. Shivering at the memory of your tongue in his ass, he looks back up at you. "Never. No-one- never."

Proud of that, you glance back up at the television, taking in a long drag from the cigarette before slowly blowing out the smoke. "So, who's this blonde chick visiting your bakery, huh?"

His cheeks pinken as he laughs softly, saying nothing.

"Come on, butty," You say, moving your hand down to cup his cheek. "Know her name?"

"Natasha," He tells you, ringing a bell in your head.

"Really?" You mumble, taking the cigarette out of your mouth. "Short, blonde hair, dark roots?"

"Yeah. You know her?" Steve asks you with furrowed brows.

"Yeah, I know her," You inform him as the memory of Pietro's demand suddenly enters your mind. "Button? I need you to do something for me."

He sits up, alert. "Whatever it is, I'll do it," He says eagerly.

Snorting, you shake your head. "You don't even know what it is I want you to do, yet."

"Anything," He states gravely, taking your hand in his.

"You trust me, don't you?" You ask him, putting the cigarette out on the ashtray on his bedside table. 

"Of course," Steve says with a scoff. "More than anyone."

"And you know that I would never do anything to put you in danger?" You go on to ask, raising a brow.

"Y/N, I love you," He emphasizes with a frown. "Where is all this coming from?"

"And I love you, button," You reply, giving him a kiss. "So, do this one thing for me?"

"What is it?" He questions, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer.

Taking in a deep breath, you turn your body to face his. "Natasha's family have ownership of this diamond, the Elphora. It's this big, green thing; I don't see the appeal myself. Anyway, it once belonged to Pietro's mother. And now he wants it back."

He processes your words, slowly frowning. "And why is that your problem?"

"Pietro's the one who helped me find you, Stevie. Without him, you'd still be God knows where with Peggy," You reveal, her name leaving a bad taste in your mouth. "I told him that I would do this once you were safe. I gave him my word, and I don't go back on my word."

With a sigh, he slowly nods. "Okay. Whatever it is you need me to do, I'll do it."

"I need you to offer your services to Natasha," You tell him bluntly.

He grimaces at your words, pulling back. "What?"

You soon realize the misunderstanding and grab his shoulders. "Not like that! Your catering service, bubba. Natasha's family is always throwing some stupid party; let her know you cater for big events, show off those mini cupcakes or whatever, and get her to hire you for the next one."

A look of conflict overtakes his face as he looks down. "But..."

"What's wrong?" You ask, rubbing his back.

"I don't... want her to get the wrong idea," He divulges with a wince. "She's... very flirty."

Swallowing down any anger you may feel towards her, you keep your composure. "It's just business, Steve. As long as you remain professional, I don't see how she could misconstrue the situation. You trust yourself to remain professional, don't you?"

He quickly looks up, meeting your eyes. "Of course I do. I- I would never do anything to disrespect you, Y/N, or our relationship. I love you, and I only want you."

"I know that, because I trust you, Steve," You tell him truthfully with a soft smile. "It's just business." 

Snuggling closer to you, he rests his head on your chest. "What do I do once she does hire me?"

"You don't have to worry about anything else, my little button," You assure him, stroking his hair. "Just do what you do best. Bake."

part 10 >

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"Alright, Buck, that's enough," Steve says sternly, patting his shoulder. "Let's keep the downtime conversation a little more family friendly, how about that?"

Reluctantly, Bucky agrees and keeps his mouth shut for the rest of the evening, and the rest of you have a pleasant chat about future plans for once this damn mission is over.

Later, after dinner and once most people have gone to their rooms, you creep downstairs to find Bucky where you know he'll be: in the kitchen, post-workout and pre-shower, sipping on a protein shake. Tonight, he's wearing a sleeveless, black tee and some basketball shorts, looking as hot as ever.

Of course, you'd never admit that out loud. Having inappropriate thoughts about a teammate would be unforgivable.

"Work your arms again?" You ask, walking into the dimly lit kitchen and poking his biceps. "Why do you bother? Doesn't your body just... do that naturally? I thought that was the magic of the serum?"

He puts down the shake and side-eyes you, a small smirk pulling at his lips. "Not exactly, tulip. What are you doing up so late?"

"Can't sleep," You complain, leaning your back against the counter and looking up at him. "What about you?"

"About to shower," He answers, taking another sip from the shake.

You watch his throat bob as he swallows, and lower your voice, moving closer to him. "Wanna put a baby in me, instead?" You ask him softly.

Almost choking, Bucky widens his eyes, his lips parting. "What?"

Taking another step closer, you take his hands and place one on your waist and the other on your belly before standing on your tiptoes to reach his ear. "Please, daddy, give me a baby."

His breath hitches in his throat as he tries his best to process the situation, before deciding that trying to rationalize it is futile. This may just be a really vivid dream, Buck, so stop thinking and do as the woman asks before you wake up.

"Is that what you want, tulip?" He asks, bringing his hand up to cup your face as his eyes burn into yours. "Want daddy to fill you up, hmm? Fuck a baby into you?"

Your legs squeeze together at his words as you nod quickly. "Yes, please."

"Fuck," He whispers with a shudder. Without wasting another second, he brings his tongue to yours, kissing you hurriedly as though he's running out of time. His hand slips under the band of your shorts and he bypasses your panties, dipping his fingers into your honey-soaked cunt.

A shaky breath leaves your mouth as he starts to rub circles on your clit, making your pussy throb. He continues to press kisses down your neck, sucking on your pulse point. "Daddy," You whine, bucking your hips up as your hand moves to rub his hardening boner. "Please."

"What do you need, baby?" He murmurs into your ear. "Tell daddy what you need."

"Need- need you inside me," You answer him desperately. "Now."

Groaning, he fumbles with his shorts, pulling them down and letting his big cock spring out. Your mouth waters at the sight and you gasp when he brutishly rips your shorts and panties apart, leaving your bottom half bare for him. Lifting up your leg, he wraps it around his waist and brings his cock to your folds, covering it in your moisture.

"So fucking wet for me," He grunts, his eyes darkening. "Want me to make you a mommy?"

"Yes, daddy," You whimper, cupping his neck in your hands. "Wanna be pregnant with your baby."

Biting his lip, he falls forward to rest his forehead against yours. "Oh, shit, you're so fucking hot."

"Stop teasing me," You whine. "Fuck my tight, little pussy, daddy."

Unable to hold back any longer, Bucky does as you ask and presses his cock to your entrance. By now, he's 99% sure you're not a virgin, but he still takes his time in inching his way inside you.

"Fuck, daddy," You cry, throwing your head back as his girthy length stretches you out. "Haven't been fucked in so long."

Well, she ain't a virgin.

"No?" Bucky asks with a mutter, his eyes glued to the look on your face. "Want daddy to rail you, baby?"

"Yeah," You say coyly, biting your lip.

He smirks down at you, his lips parting as he bottoms out inside you. "Look at you. Taking my cock so well. You're a dirty little slut, aren't you?"

"Yeah," You agree between giggles.

His lips brush against yours as he chuckles, "Mmm, yeah. Filthy fuckin' whore." With that, he begins to rock his hips, fucking in and out of you. The sound of his balls slapping against your skin fill the kitchen, and likely echo all around the cabin. But you can't give a fuck about who can hear you right now. He pulls off your t-shirt, hypnotized by your tits before latching his mouth onto one of your nipples. Sucking it, he groans, sending electric waves through your body. "Can't wait until they're full with milk for me," He groans, rubbing your nipples with his thumbs. "Mommy's milk is gonna be so fuckin' sweet."

"Harder, daddy!" You cry as your eyes roll back in pleasure.

Growling under his breath, Bucky happily complies, slamming his cock into you. "That's it, baby, take my fuckin' cock," He orders lowly. "Gonna fill you with my seed, make you a mommy."

"Yes, Bucky!" You all but scream, before grabbing his face in your hands. "Spit in my mouth, daddy."

Slightly taken aback, Bucky raises a brow, never once slowing his thrusts. "Is that what you want, baby?"

"Yes," You reply instantly.

With an arrogant smile, he grabs the back of your neck. "Only good girls get daddy's spit. Fuckin' beg for it, slut."

"Please, daddy," You cry, feeling weak. "Please spit in my mouth."

"That's my girl," He grunts before pulling your head back. "Open."

Obediently, you open your mouth wide, buzzing with anticipation. Bucky leans forward and squeezes your cheeks together before giving you what you want, letting his saliva slowly pour onto your tongue. You moan immediately, your stomach fluttering with delight. He spits once more into your mouth before clamping your jaw shut, grinning when he sees you swallow.

"Fuck me," He mutters lowly, grabbing your throat as he thrusts harder. "Your filthy little pussy feels so good wrapped around me, tulip, so fucking good."

Taking his free hand, you bring it up to your cheek. "Slap me," You beg him with glossy eyes. "Please, daddy."

A glint of darkness flashes across his face as he presses his chest to yours, stroking your cheek. "You gonna be a good girl for me?" He asks you lowly.

Instantly, you reply, "Yes."

"Gonna let me fuck you whenever I want?" He questions you. "Use you like a fuckin' sex doll?"

"Yes, daddy," You cry out.

"Gonna let me get you pregnant, huh?" He presses, fucking you faster as his cock brushes against your cervix. "Gonna be a good mommy for me?"

"I promise, daddy," You swear, tears filling your eyes as every inch of your skin is drenched in pleasure. "I'll do whatever you want, whenever you want. Fill me with your baby, please."

Groaning, Bucky tightens his grip around your throat. "That's my good girl," He mumbles sweetly, before slapping your cheek with his free hand.

You moan at the sensation as the tears finally fall from your eyes. "Thank you, daddy."

"Yeah, that's it," Bucky grumbles, thrusting harder into you. "Fuckin' cry for me, you stupid little bitch." With that, he slaps you again, and you think you're in heaven. Leaning forward, he licks a stray tear from your cheek. "So fuckin' pretty when you cry for me, tulip."

"Oh, daddy," You moan melodically, feeling your pleasure build up. "I'm gonna cum."

Roughly, he grabs your face. "Not yet, you stupid slut," He growls. "You don't get to cum until daddy tells you to, got it?"

Frustrated, you whine. "Please, daddy, so close."

To your surprise, and utter delight, he slaps you again, glaring down at you. "Don't you fuckin' dare, little girl," He says gravely. "You wanna be a good little slut for daddy, don't you?"

Oh, you'd do anything for this man.

"Yes, Sir," You mumble, your mind totally blank. All you can process is your pleasure, and him.

"Louder, bitch," He spits. "I want everyone in this fuckin' cabin to know what you really are."

Throwing your head back, you cry out, "I wanna be daddy's good little slut!"

"That's my girl," He says proudly, slapping your cheek a couple more times, leaving your face sore as your cunt tightens around him. "You've been so good, baby. You wanna cum for me?"

You gasp with relief, meeting his eyes. "Daddy."

"I know, baby, I know," He coos softly, rubbing your clit while your legs shudder. "I know my little girl wants to cum, doesn't she?"

"Please," You squeak between sobs, burning for him.

The softness leaves his face as he clenches his jaw, slapping you once more before grabbing your face and fucking you deeper. "Cum, you fuckin' slut. Now."

His command tips you over the edge, and all you see is white for a second as you cum, hard. The breath is stolen from your lungs, the strength from your muscles, the thoughts from your brain. For a moment, all you are is the product of Bucky's desire; coming apart at his words, destroyed by his actions.

As you cum around him, Bucky groans, feeling his own orgasm hit him. "Shit, that's it, baby. Take my fuckin' seed, all of it," He grunts, thrusting sloppily as he cums hard. "Gonna make such a pretty mommy for me, tulip, such a pretty mommy."

Meanwhile, as you come down from your high, your blurred vision clears and you return to your senses. You can feel his jizz pouring inside you as he shudders, and your eyes widen at the feeling. "That's so much - so much cum, daddy," You whisper, gasping as he fucks it all into you.

Chuckling weakly, he rests his head in your neck, slowing down his thrusts. "Magic of the serum, baby. Shit."

The both of you take a few moments to recover, breathing heavily in the now-silent kitchen. Slowly, Bucky pulls out of you, making you wince.

Patting his chest, you give him a smile. "Thanks for that, Buck. I really needed it."

He nods quickly, eyes wide. "Yeah. Yeah, no problem. Any time- seriously, any time," He rambles while doing his best not to gawk at your naked body.

Grinning, you lean up and kiss his cheek. "Thank you. I appreciate that."

Letting out a shaky breath, he quickly pulls off his t-shirt before helping you put it on. "There you are, tulip," He murmurs, pulling it down to cover your ass.

"I'll, uh, see you in the morning?" You say, slowly making your way to the exit.

"Sure," He replies, rubbing the back of his neck. "Unless I come for round two after my shower?"

Smirking, you back up to the door. "You know where to find me, daddy."

With that, you leave and make your way to the stairs - where your other team members are all standing, wide eyed and horrified at what they just overheard.

"Hey, gang," You greet them casually, walking past Natasha with a smile.

"Hey... Y/N," Sam replies with a mixture of fear and bafflement in his eyes. "You all good?"

You nudge his arm when you pass him, "I'm absolutely perfect. I feel so much better than I did after today's mission."

Clint and Tony remain silent, unable to even look at you as you walk by them.

"Well, good night, everyone," You say softly. "Sweet dreams."

Steve can't bring himself to make eye contact with you as you limp up the stairs to where he's standing, his brows furrowing nervously. Once you're in your room, he looks at the others and mumbles, "I don't think there's gonna be anything sweet about my dreams tonight."

Bucky then emerges from the kitchen, shirtless, sweaty, and holding your panties in his hand. Grimacing, Sam steps forward. "You monster."

With a scoff, Bucky holds his hands up in surrender. "Woah, there," He says. "She came onto me!"

They all burst into disbelieving grumbles, refusing to accept that you aren't as innocent as they believed and turning away from him to make their way upstairs.

Alone, Bucky lowers his hands, chuckling at the situation. "Tulip, you absolute slut," He mumbles, looking down at your panties with a smirk. "My fuckin' slut."

writing that made me horny

bucky masterlist

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"so fuckin' pretty," he mumbles, stroking his thumb over your lip. "bet you'd look even prettier with a cock between your lips. wouldn't you, baby?"

he lets out a long sigh. if only.

"you'd be my pretty little cocksucking angel," steve whispers in a daze.

he doesn't know when it happened, but at some point he pulled out his hard dick and started stroking it.

this isn't the first time he's jerked off while in bed with you, but this time he needs more. the thrill of the risk of you waking up to see him fisting his cock isn't enough.

"don't do this, steven," he grumbles, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before opening them back up and looking at you. "fuck. i gotta, man."

as silently as possible, he gets up onto his knees beside you and gently pulls you lower down until your head is level with his crotch.

he rubs his cock all over your face, biting his lip as your soft skin makes him harder.

with a deep breath, he brings the tip of his cock to your mouth and paints your lips with his pre-cum, holding back his groans.

"you want me to cum for you, don't you, you naughty little girl?" he murmurs, before gently pushing it past your lips and resting his thick cock on your tongue.

his head falls back and he clenches his jaw in an effort to keep his noises in.

"holy fuck," he mumbles, carefully dragging it forward and back over your soft tongue. "that's my pretty little slut. love how daddy's cock tastes, don't you?"

you let out small noises as he invades your mouth, making him bite his lip.

"suck," he whispers, as though trying to send your subconscious a subliminal message. "come on, baby. suck."

and, as though he does have full control over your subconscious, you suddenly tighten your lips around his cock and hollow your cheek, making him suck in a breath.

"oh, god," he mumbles lowly, feeling his end coming nearer and nearer. "i knew you'd be such a good little cocksucking angel for me, baby, fuck."

he can't help but spew the filthy words, delirious with pleasure

"gonna cum," he warns himself, stroking the half of his cock that isn't currently buried in your mouth. "shit. wanna see you covered in my seed."

slowly, he pulls his cock out of your mouth and lets you suck on the tip while he jerks himself off, holding back his groans as best he can.

you let out little whimpers, sending vibrations through his shaft.

"oh my god, baby, you're such a good girl," he whispers as he feels his pleasure elevate.

with a loud, uncontrollable grunt, he cums. he lets himself cum into your mouth a little before pulling his cock out and coating your face with the rest. it shoots out onto your cheeks, nose, and chin, and he cums harder than ever.

"that's my pretty girl," he growls, unable to help himself from picking up his phone and taking a picture.

the flash makes you stir and he rushes to put away his cock just as your eyes flutter open.

"stevie?" you whisper with a coarse voice.

"shh, baby, go back to sleep," he mumbles soothingly, lying down next to you. "it's okay. sleep."

it doesn't take you long for you to fall back asleep. knce he's sure you're deep in slumber again, steve wraps his arms around you, pulls you closer and tentatively licks your cheek. the taste of his cum fills his mouth and his grip on you tightens as he continues cleaning off his seed from your skin.

"mm, fuck," he murmurs, grabbing a wipe from your nightstand once he's done and cleaning off the residue.

he looks at his phone, at the picture he took of your sleeping face covered in his cum. he sets it as his wallpaper, only for a few minutes. just to see what it could be like if you were truly his and he didn't have to hide it from the world.

but then he changes it back to the picture you took of the sunset on your birthday trip to cancun. to anyone else, it looks like an innocent photo of the sun above the water, but it means so much more to him. when he sees it, he feels the way you were sitting on his lap, grinding on his boner without even realizing. making him cum in his swimming trunks on the beach as the sun set, taking no notice of his soft moans.

for now, keeping you as his secret is enough. but he knows he can only go so long before he snaps.

🐨

omg that was so much fun to write. it feels like 2021 again. the nostalgia 🥺 i missed steve and his koala. hope you enjoyed <3

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"Are- are you having a panic attack?" Bucky asks you timidly, to which you laugh softly.

"No; just doing some deep breathing," You inform him. "I'm fine, really."

He nods slowly, turning back to his game. Slowly, you sit up and budge closer before resting your head on his arm.

"Is this okay?" You ask him lowly.

"Y- yeah, of course," He replies genuinely, feeling his heart flutter. After a few moments, he lifts up his arm and mumbles, "Here," before instead wrapping it around your shoulder, allowing you to move closer to him and rest your head against his chest. The action makes his stomach flip, and he wonders where he plucked up the courage to do it.

"What do you have to do?" You ask him with a mumble.

It takes him a few seconds to realize you're talking about the game. "Uh, I'm playing this pirate, outlaw guy, and I'm tracking down my stolen booty," He informs you. "The game kinda sucks, but now I've started it, so I have to complete it. The graphics aren't bad though, and most of the side missions are fun."

You watch on with keen interest as he plays, smiling when you catch a glimpse at the character. "Did you customize him?"

Bucky snorts. "Yeah, take a look," He says before turning the camera to show you his character - and the resemblance is uncanny.

"Oh, my God, he looks exactly like you!" You exclaim between laughs. "But, not as handsome."

His cheeks tinge pink and he's glad his room is dark. "Well, video game technology hasn't yet advanced enough to be able to recreate such beauty," He says sarcastically. "One day, though."

"One day," You repeat through a grin.

Bucky pulls out his headset from the controller which causes the sound of the game to play out loud. He lowers the volume, the game's background music combined with the occasional fight sounds being oddly calming to you. You look down at his hands, watching as his fingers expertly dance on the controller, his veins and tendons popping through every so often. His metal hand steals your attention, and you stare at it in awe.

"I had to retrain it when I first got it," He recounts, somehow able to tell that you were thinking about it. "Thought I'd never be able to play again, but it actually works better than my real hand, now."

"Does ink show up on the metal?" You ask him curiously. "If you draw on it?"

"Mhm," He replies absentmindedly as a particularly intense battle begins in the game.

Reaching out to the desk, you pick up a dark purple Sharpie from his pen holder and pull off the lid. Instead of drawing on his hand which would distract him from the game, you opt to draw a little further up. Bucky feels the sensation but is too engrossed to pay any real attention to it.

"Come on, you fucker," He mutters lowly, leaning forward. His arm wraps tighter around you as the fight intensifies, until you're practically forced to lay against him. You aren't complaining, though.

Once he wins the battle, he lets out a sigh of relief before relaxing. Looking down at you, he realizes what you did and leans closer to get a good look.

"Cute fish," He comments with a smile. "What's his name?"

"Uhh..." You give it a few more details, including some air bubbles. "Bucky."

"Very original," He teases you. "How'd ya come up with that one?"

"Shut it," You mumble with a laugh, pushing against his chest. "It's little Bucky Junior."

"Aw," Bucky coos, looking down at it proudly. "Look at that; he's got my eyes."

"My scales, though," You add, drawing tiny love hearts around it.

"You're his mom?" He asks with a raised brow.

"I am the one who made him," You say dramatically. "I practically birthed him!"

"Alright, alright," He says with a chuckle, looking back down at the fish. "Sorry about that, Bucky Junior; mommy can get a little testy."

"Don't turn little BJ against his mother!" You gasp, nudging him.

"BJ?" Bucky repeats incredulously. "You nicknamed our child blowjob?"

"What you choose to connote with his nickname is down to you," You state curtly, taking his metal hand off the controller to give yourself better access to it as you begin to doodle on it.

"Do you mind? My body is not your canvas," He says, though he can't hide the wide smile on his face.

"Yes, it is," You retort, glancing up at the paused game. "You didn't have to stop playing."

"Well, my strong hand is currently occupied elsewhere," He says pointedly.

Frowning, you tilt your head. "Is it true that guys use their dominant hand to jerk off?" You ask, the shots from earlier releasing you of your inhibitions.

"Uh, it depends on the guy, I guess," Bucky answers you with a shrug.

"Which one do you use?" You ask him without even realizing what you're saying.

An awkward look overtakes his face as he glances down at his metal hand which is currently being held by yours. "Uh..."

"Gross!" You cry, dropping his hand.

"I clean it!" He swears, holding his flesh hand up in surrender.

"Doesn't it hurt?" You wonder, picking it back up again and going back to doodling.

"I thought it would, but I was pleasantly surprised," Bucky says, so past the point of shock at the fact that he's discussing his masturbation habits with Steve's pretty friend that all he can do is go with it. "Doesn't hurt at all."

"That's good," You mutter, drawing a cat. "I'm glad to hear that."

"You are?" He asks you with a raised brow.

"Of course!" You claim. "Your satisfaction means a lot to me, Bucky."

"Shut it, you weirdo," He says between chuckles, nudging you with his shoulder. "How come you ditched the party?"

You let out a loud, dramatic sigh, closing the Sharpie and tossing it back onto the desk. "It just got a little... too much," You explain as best you can. "When there's so many people being so loud and excited, it just gets overwhelming."

"I completely understand that," He tells you truthfully. "Which is why I spend my night in here playing shitty video games, instead."

"Yeah, I see the appeal," You say. "Might have to join you in here more often."

"Be my guest," Bucky offers warmly. "It'd be nice for little BJ to see more of his ma, too."

"Are you calling me an absent parent?" You scoff, placing your hand on your chest.

He winces, shrugging. "Well, I definitely ain't calling you a present parent."

Shaking your head, you look up at him with a glare. "As my baby daddy, you should respect me a lot more."

His metal hand moves to rest on your hip, making you shiver. "I'm sorry," He says with a pout. "Forgive me?"

You let out a sigh. "How could I refuse the face that even video game technology couldn't replicate?"

Bucky laughs heartily at that, and his grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you closer, making your stomach flip. Why are you so nervous? It's only Bucky.

Glancing down at his hand to see your newer doodles, he snorts when he reads, 'I jerk off with this hand and it doesn't hurt,' written on his wrist and palm.

"Thank you for that," He says dryly. "That's exactly the kind of thing that'll stop people being scared of it."

You laugh at his words before your face drops and you frown. "People are scared of it?"

Bucky raises a brow. "You haven't heard anyone say that?"

"Well, my only friends are your best friends," You point out, glancing back at his bedroom door. "And something tells me they aren't scared of you."

"They're not, unfortunately," He says with a chuckle. "But, yeah. Maybe scared is giving myself too much credit, but they're definitely weirded out by it."

"Oh," You utter simply, before linking your fingers with his cold, metal ones. "Well, they're missing out on the best canvas I've ever used."

"They don't deserve it," He mumbles, resting his head on yours. "They don't deserve to know little BJ."

"Right? Our BJ was born of love and beauty," You say, tracing over the little fish. "I gave you BJ despite how hard it was."

He grins, shaking his head. "So stupid," He murmurs between laughs.

You can't help but laugh along, looking up at him with a wide smile. Having not realized how close you were too each other, you're a little taken aback by the proximity of his face to yours. Of his lips to yours. His eyes are wide and glued to yours as he feels your breath on his chin, making him shiver. For a few seconds, you both forget that the outside world exists.

Pulling yourself out of it, you sit up straight and look ahead. "Do you have any two-player games?" You ask him casually.

Bucky clears his throat before pulling out another controller. "Do I?" He replies pointedly. "You bet your ass."

You take the controller from him and watch as he turns it on and signs in for you.

"What do you wanna do?" He asks, scrolling through his vast library of games. "Beat me up? Build a house? Race me?"

"I wanna beat you up," You answer him bluntly. "Because I'd never be able to in real life, but I've got a good chance in a game."

Narrowing his eyes, he smirks. "I wouldn't be too sure about that, baby," He mutters without even realizing what he's saying.

The nickname makes your heart race but you do well to recover, keeping your eyes on the screen. "We'll see, Bucky Senior," You reply lowly, subtly moving back to where you were before with one of your shoulders resting against his chest.

Once you're done beating him up, he puts it on a calmer game, the two of you working together to build Bucky Junior a home. The music drowns out the noise from the party, and once again, it's just the two of you that exist in the world.

You grin as he shows you secret moves and special combinations, his eyes lighting up when you get the hang of it quickly. "That's my girl!" He exclaims proudly, grinning. "Beat the fuck out of me- just like that. Have you played this before?"

You smile to yourself as he explains the difference types of stones and bricks to you, his low voice making you feel safe and grounded. Though you've never really spent any time with Bucky before tonight, you find yourself getting along with him as though you've known him your while life. God, are you glad you came into his room tonight.

Bucky feels himself relax with the weight of you against him. Leaning his head on yours, he lets out a content sigh. He's never had the balls to talk to you before, as most of Steve's friends don't give Bucky the time of day and aren't the type of people he'd wanna be friends with anyway, but you just showed up and completely took him by surprise. God, he's glad you came into his room tonight.

bucky masterlist

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"Mhm, I bet," You utter lowly, before catching a glimpse of his sleeve. "Nice tatts."

He grins before pulling off his leather jacket, exposing his arms to you which are covered in ink. You can barely make out what most of them are, but admittedly they do look cool.

"Do you have any?" He begins to ask before snorting. "Nah, I bet you don't. Wouldn't wanna go through the pain, would you, sweetheart?"

Instead of saying anything, as much as you wanna call him a dick and sock him in the jaw for being so patronizing, you pull off your t-shirt and turn to the side. At first, his eyes are glued to your bra, but once he rips his gaze from your tits, he frowns and moves closer to get a proper look. There, on your left ribcage, is a tattoo about the size of your fist.

Once Bucky recognizes the Drifter logo, he lets out a shocked scoff, he looks back up at your face. "Huh?"

Steve raises a brow and steps forward, his pants tightening at the sight of you topless. When you notice his presence, you give him a polite smile before turning to give him a proper view of the tattoo.

"My Uncle Vinnie designed it," You tell them proudly. "He added in the flowers 'cuz they were my mom's favorite."

Bucky's eyes widen. "Unc- Vinnie?"

"Mhm," You chirp before remembering what you left your house for. "Oh, Rogers! Just the guy i needed."

He watches as you put your shirt back on, biting back a smile. "What's up, fifty-three?"

"You any good with a hammer?" You ask him with a frown. "I need to put some screws in the wall for a hanging shelf, but I just got my nails done and I don't wanna ruin them."

"Sure thing, fif," Steve agrees with a nod, trying to hide his excitement. "I'll be right over; just give me a minute to wash up." With that, he jogs back into his house, leaving you alone with Bucky again.

He looks a lot less confident than he did before, with his cheeks tinged pink as he finds it difficult to maintain eye contact with you. "I, uh, I could come over and help you with your shelf, if you want."

You shake your head, "Nah, that's okay. I'd much rather have Steve do it."

Bucky purses his lips at your curt words, letting out a high-pitched huff. "Oh. Yeah. Sure. Makes sense."

Smiling, you nudge his shoulder. "You're busy optimizing your bike anyway, right?"

He nods quickly, attempting to look unaffected. "Yeah. Yeah, absolutely."

"Come on, Drifter, leave the poor guy alone," Steve says, reappearing from his house and walking over to pat your shoulder. "Shall we head on in?"

"Yes, please," You say, shooting Bucky one last smile. "See you later, sweetheart."

He mumbles a half-hearted greeting in response while you drag Steve over to your place, the sound of his melodic chuckles setting you alight with delight.

Ten minutes later, you're sitting on the hardwood floor in your corridor while Steve is hammering in a few nails to the wall. His tense arms are almost making you drool as you stare up at him, eating up the view.

"Did you hear me?"

You snap to the present at his question, your eyes widening. "Huh?"

Steve snorts, shaking his head as he turns to face you. "I said, you got any plans for tonight?"

"Oh," You sit up, putting down the cool glass of juice in your hand. "Yeah, actually. Some charity gala I have to go to with John."

Grimacing, Steve narrows his eyes at you. "Do you have to go?"

You laugh at his question, standing up. "Yes, Rogers, I do. It's part of my job."

"To go to some pretentious ball?" He asks, putting down the hammer. "On that asshole's arm?"

"I'll hardly be on his arm," You insist. "And yes, it is part of my job. As a key member of the mayor's team, I have to show my face at these events."

"His team," Steve repeats bitterly under his breath. "How long you gonna be working for him?"

"That's not for you to worry your pretty little head about, Rog," You say, leaning on the wall.

He looks you up and down, slowly moving closer to you. "When are you gonna let me take you out, fiffy?"

Laughing softly, you raise a brow. "You think all is takes is you asking nicely and looking pretty?"

His cheeks tinge pink as his eyes light up. "Yeah?"

Placing your hands on his shoulders, you smirk up at him. "I don't think so, Rogers. You're gonna have to do better than that."

With all the confidence he can muster, which is apparently a lot, he grabs your hips and pulls you closer before leaning down in an attempt to plant a kiss on your lips. Instinctively, just before his lips touch yours, you bring your knee up and hit his groin, making him fall to the ground with a yell.

"Fuck!" He cries, clutching his crotch with his eyes tightly squeezed shut.

All you do is step back, giving him a tight-lipped smile. "Oops. Reflex."

"Reflex?" He repeats incredulously, breathing heavily. "That's how you react to someone trying to kiss you?"

"Someone that doesn't deserve to? Yes," You answer him with a bored tone, picking up your glass of juice and taking a sip. "I don't appreciate that, Rogers. Not one bit."

Wincing, he slowly gets back up, the pain evident on his face. "Fuck," He sighs, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, fifty-three. I shouldn't have done that."

Smiling, you nod. "I do appreciate that. You can leave, now. Thanks for the shelf."

Still flustered, Steve nods, resting his hands on his hips. "No problem. I'll, uh, I'll see you later, fif."

"See ya, Rog," You sing as he walks towards the exit, muttering to yourself with a smile once he's gone. "Idiot."

The dark blue dress adorns your body, fitting your every curve perfectly. It's floor length with a high slit on your left thigh; a perfect combination of classy and sexy. The low neckline compliments your chest, along with the elegant silver necklace you're wearing.

Your phone buzzes with a text, and you pick it up from your bed to see that it's from Lemar, John's assistant.

L. Hoskins

Boss wants to know when you're arriving.

With a sigh, you send him a response, letting him know you'll be there in twenty minutes.

After spraying on some perfume, you stuff your car keys into your purse and leave your house, silently dreading the night that awaits you. Steve was right; these events are pretentious and John loves having you on his arm during them, as though it gives him a chance to pretend you haven't rejected him multiple times and you aren't just his professional advisor.

The second your door shuts behind you, you see Steve in his front yard. He's doing something with his bike, so you slowly walk over to him. Some sort of woven basket is sitting on the back of his bike and he's tying it down with thin rope.

"Whatcha doing there, Mr. Rogers?" You ask lightly, making him turn to you.

If he had the willpower to look away the first time, he'd have done a double take. His lips part as he looks you up and down, the enamor clear in his eyes.

"Sweet Jesus," He mumbles, before rubbing his mouth. "You're absolutely fuckin' gorgeous, fif."

Admittedly, you enjoy the compliment, but you don't let him know that. "I know," You quip. "On my way to the gala."

His face drops at that and he shakes his head. "How am I supposed to let you leave knowing you're going for that bastard? In that dress?"

"Let me leave?" You repeat with a questioning look. "You're walking on eggshells, Rog; I'd be careful if I were you."

Smirking, he takes a few steps closer to you. "You know us biker boys, fif," He utters, a dangerous look in his eyes. "Anything but careful."

Raising a brow, you fold your arms across your chest. "Watch yourself, fifty-one."

Steve takes another step closer. "I'm about to steal you away and keep you to myself tonight," He informs you lowly. "And you and I both know that if you really wanted to, you'd stop me."

Your breath is stolen by his admission. Though you know men like Steve well, none have ever dared to be so assertive, knowing who your uncle was. It's a breath of fresh air, but it also puts you on edge, because for the first time, you don't feel fully in control.

Without further warning, he lifts you up by your hips and throws you over his shoulder, making you gasp. He sits you down on his bike and gets on behind you, wrapping one of his arms around your torso while he kicks the bike into gear.

"What the fuck?" You spit, turning back to him.

He simply winks arrogantly before driving off into the night, doing as he said he would and stealing you away.

Thirteen minutes later, you're sitting at the edge of a cliff face, looking down at the water which gleams with the reflection of the moon.

"You're fuckin' insane, you know that?" You call out to him while he rummages through the box he had put at the back of his bike behind you. "I'm gonna be so late to the gala."

"You aren't going to that stupid party," He tells you curtly, making your eyes roll.

You play hard to get and this is how he retaliates? There just ain't a single decent gentleman left in the world.

"Alright," Steve says, clapping his hand together. "Come on, pretty girl. Let's eat."

Confused, you turn your head to look behind you, your face dropping at the sight. You immediately stand up, gathering the skirt of your dress beneath you while taking in the view. Steve stands proudly and on the grass in front of him lies a black, skull-print tapestry. On the tapestry is a bottle of red wine, two glasses, and an array of different foods.

"What the actual fuck?" You whisper, slowly walking closer. "You kidnapped me to take me on a picnic?"

His smile never falters as he holds his hand out to you. "Come on, fif. Sit with me."

Utterly baffled, you decide to just go along with it. He's put a lot of effort in, so maybe you can forgive the abduction part of the night. Reluctantly, you walk over and take his outstretched hand, sitting down with him.

"I hope you realize how unhinged you're being," You mumble, looking down at the tasty-looking food. "Good picnic, though."

"I've told you before, fiffy; I get what I want," He tells you smugly while popping open the wine.

Narrowing your eyes, you look up at him. "I don't think I've ever actually heard you say that."

"No?" He asks with a frown before shrugging. "Well, either way, it's true."

"And why is it that you want me?" You interrogate him. "Just 'cuz you like the way I look? Or maybe the fact that my uncle was your idol is the base of your interest in me?"

He pours the wine out into the glasses while answering you. "No, fif, it ain't just the way you look. And it sure as shit ain't because of your uncle, 'cuz I liked you from the second I moved in."

"Oh, please," You scoff with an eye roll. "You think I'm gonna fall for that cliché bullshit? Get real with me, Rog."

"I think you're cute," He admits with a shrug. "I think you're gorgeous."

"And that's it?" You ask, unimpressed. "You don't even know me."

"And that's what tonight is for," He explains, handing you a glass.

"You think you can get to know me in one night?" You question him, taking the glass from his hand and having a sip.

"No, but I can sure as shit make a good start," Steve states firmly. "And trust me, fif, once you get to know me, the whole uninterested act will melt away like butter."

Laughing, you shake your head. "You think it's an act?"

There's a sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you, mischief in his smirk. "Gimme two weeks and you'll be telling me how you like your eggs in the morning."

Taken aback, you scoff, before becoming slightly disappointed. "I don't know what kind of woman you take me for, Rog, but I'm not the kind that's gonna fuck you for the sake of it."

His eyes widen as he sits up. "I didn't mean it like that," He claims. "That's not all I want from you, fif. I'm not that kind of guy."

"No?" You ask, tilting your head. "So, if I said I wanted you to fuck me right now, under the moon and stars with nobody but the trees as our witness, you'd turn me down?"

He swallows thickly but stays strong. "I'd turn you down, fif," He utters lowly. "I'm not that kind of guy."

Leaning closer to him, you rest your hand on his leg. "And what if I said I wanted to suck your cock?" You ask him, teasingly rubbing his thigh.

Clenching his jaw, Steve rips his eyes away from yours, almost in pain. "How about you shut your mouth, huh?" He asks with feigned irritation. "How about that?"

You laugh heartily at that, letting yourself feel comfortable and safe around him. "Oh, Rog, you're just too damn easy," You grin, taking your hand off his leg and placing it on his chest instead.

Steve wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer. It feels nice to be here with him like this, and your gut is telling you to trust that he's a good guy. Sure, he kidnapped you, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want him to.

"For what it's worth," He begins after a few moments of silence. "First thing I'm doing, once we're both ready, is eating you out."

Your heart skips a beat as you lift up your head and stare at him. With parted lips, you scoff. "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry; I just had to let you know," He says quickly, squeezing your shoulder. "Just putting it out there."

"This picnic is over," You state bluntly, preparing to stand up.

His grip around you tightens as he keeps you close to him, refusing to let you go. "It hasn't even started!" He exclaims. "You haven't even touched the food yet. Come on, fiffy, let's eat."

You glare at him, bitterly muttering, "Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Chuckling, he shakes his head. "Shut up. Come on, eat a brownie. Wan made them - not allergic to nuts, are you?"

The two of you begin to eat, and he admittedly brought along a great selection. There's fruit, wraps from the fancy deli in town, and chips, along with a wide variety of desserts. Two glasses of wine later, you've loosened up and are admittedly having a great time.

"Try it," Steve mumbles, holding a small piece of cookie to your lips. "I made them myself."

Surprised, and intrigued, you open your mouth and let him feed the bite to you. It's chewy with raspberry and white chocolate chips, and you suspiciously narrow your eyes at him.

"You did not make that," You say once you've swallowed, grabbing some more of the cookie. "There's no way."

"Nah, I didn't," He admits sheepishly. "Believed it for a second, though, didn't you?"

Before you can hit his shoulder and call him an idiot, your phone starts to ring. You sigh before rummaging though your purse and fishing it out, wincing when you see it's a call from John.

"Don't pick up," Steve mutters, his grip around you loosening.

"He's my boss," You sigh. "I have no choice. I'm sorry, Steve, this won't take long."

Nodding, he removes his arm from around you, letting you move away before answering the phone.

"Hey, John," You begin, not in the mood for whatever shit he's about to give you.

"Where the fuck are you, Y/N?" He asks you, clearly pissed off. "You told Lemar twenty minutes, and it's been an hour."

"I know, I'm sorry," You apologize, hating every second of it. "I just don't feel so good all of a sudden."

He grumbles at that, and you can tell he's rolling his eyes. "What; did you start your period, or something?"

Now it's you rolling your eyes. "Uh, no," You say curtly. "I'm just not feeling well. I won't be making it to the gala."

"Fuck's sake. Thanks a lot for that, Y/N," He shoots gruffly. "Whatever it is, it better not keep you from coming into the office on Monday."

You glance over at Steve, keeping your face straight. "It won't."

"Alright. Well, feel better soon," John says with a sigh. "See you Monday, kid."

"Goodnight, have fun at the gala," You reply before hanging up and tossing your phone onto the grass.

"He mad?" Steve wonders with a raised brow.

"He'll get over it," You tell him, before looking at him with a small smile. "I bet you feel good, keeping me away from Walker, hmm?"

"You bet your pretty fuckin' ass I do," He smirks, patting his thigh as he leans back against a tree. "C'mere, baby."

Rolling your eyes, you keep your ass planted on the skull-print tapestry. "You have not yet earned 'baby' rights, let alone lap-sitting rights."

The smirk on his face never lets up as he stares at you. "What'll it take, fif? I'd do anything."

"Anything?" You repeat with a raised brow.

"And everything," He promises. "Just name it."

Thinking on it, you look up at the sky before grinning. "I want the moon."

"The moon?" He chuckles. "Say no more. I'll throw a lasso 'round it and pull it down."

Getting back onto your knees, you slowly begin to crawl closer to him. "And all the stars, too."

"They're yours," Steve swears, the excitement blooming in his eyes. "Every last one."

"And I want diamonds," You tease him, biting your lip. "Lots of 'em."

"All of 'em," He mumbles, watching as you reach him. "I'll put the prettiest one in a ring for you."

"And I want one of those eggs," You say, on your knees beside him. "You know, those fancy, Russian ones?"

"Fabergé," He mumbles, glancing down at your lips. "You want a Fabergé egg?"

"Mhm," You confirm, resting your hand on his shoulder. "The rarest, most expensive one."

"Consider it yours," Steve whispers. "Anything else?"

A tension sits between you, and you know you can't hold back on the one thing you truly want.

"A kiss."

The look in his eyes pulls you in, as well as his hands which cup your face. You slowly lean forward, gently pressing your lips to his. The kiss isn't gentle for long, though, as he slips his tongue into your mouth, rubbing it against yours. Every inch of your skin is lit up, and you let him pull you onto his lap as the kiss deepens.

His hand moves down to your leg where his fingers slip under the slit in your dress as he grips your thigh. Your hand trails up to the back of his head and you run your nails through his hair, making him shiver. The kiss lasts for a few more seconds before you pull away, breathing heavily with a racing heart.

Neither of you speak at first, your eyes burning into each other as you teeter on the edge of something. You aren't sure what it is, yet, but you know it's something.

"Hmm," Steve hums simply, making you frown.

"Hmm, what?" You ask defensively.

"Nothin'," He replies lowly. "Just waitin' for you to kiss me some more."

Hitting his shoulder, you purse your lips together. "You should be so lucky, Rog. That's all that's on the menu tonight. Sorry to disappoint."

"I'm not disappointed at all," He says smugly. "Not at all, baby."

Knowing he'll take full advantage of his newfound rights to calling you that, you roll your eyes. "I was being serious about the Fabergé. Also, what was that you were saying about a ring?"

His eyes widen. "Uh, I don't know what you're talking about."

"No, I'm pretty sure you mentioned something about a diamond ring," You say teasingly, squeezing his shoulder. "Gonna get down on one knee when you give it to me?"

Smirking, he sticks his tongue in his cheek. "You really do need to start shutting that mouth of yours, fif."

"Watch it, Rogers," You warn him. "Don't you know who I am?"

"Oh, I do," He confirms with a nod. "There's more bike in your blood than oxygen. I wouldn't dare try and mess you around."

"You sure about that?" You question, trying not to sound too invested in his answer.

He lets out a sigh, stroking your hips. "I'm sure, Drifter. You ain't got a single thing to worry about when you're with me."

"I'm never worried," You claim boldly. "You couldn't intimidate me if you tried your hardest, blondie."

"No?" Steve asks, lowering his voice as he cups your cheek and pulls your face closer to his. "I may be nice to you, but I'm not a nice man, little girl."

You give him a small smile. "Maybe that's why I like you."

His eyes flicker with delight, but he keeps his face straight. "You like me, huh? Ah, I knew it. Dumb little thing like you was bound to get attached sooner or later."

In any other circumstances, you would've ripped his dick off somewhere between 'little girl' and 'dumb', but there's something about Steve that only makes it a turn on when he talks to you like that. Maybe it's the fact that, deep down, you know he doesn't mean it. You and him both know that.

He strokes your cheek with his thumb, a dark look in his eyes. "It's not like you to be so quiet, baby. What's wrong? Getting all shy on me, now?"

You both hate and love the way he's able to reduce you down to nothing, your heart beating harder than ever. "Steve..." You whisper, almost whining.

"What's wrong, baby?" He repeats softly, giving you a sympathetic look. "Talk to me."

All you can muster up is a frustrated huff against his chest. He makes you feel vulnerable, but not in an uncomfortable way.

He strokes your hair softly, chuckling. "Clingy little baby, aren't you?"

Lifting your head up, you decide enough is enough. "I think... I think it's time for you to drop me back at my house," You say, wording it specifically so he doesn't think you're inviting him to your place.

Knowing you're as utterly smitten by him as he is by you, Steve smirks. "Alright then, fifty-three."

Your eyes flicker up to his. You say nothing.

"What's wrong, hmm?" He asks, already knowing the answer. "You prefer when daddy calls you baby?"

Okay, this has gone on long enough. What the fuck happened to playing hard to get? How can you be so far gone this soon? For a man you barely even know?

Pulling yourself out of the haze, as difficult as that is, you clear your throat. "Shut the fuck up and take me home, Rogers," You state curtly, standing up to your feet.

He stands up, too, the delight clear on his face. "Sure thing, baby."

"Shut it," You hiss, picking up your purse and making your way over to the bike.

Once he's returned the picnic things back to the basket, he ties it to the back of the bike again before getting on and driving you home. The ride is pleasant, the cool breeze whipping through your hair. You can't help but melt into his chest, hating how good it feels to have him behind you.

When he parks up outside your house ten minutes later, you clamber off immediately.

"Tonight was fun," Steve says, remaining seated on the bike as he flicks off the engine. "Really fun."

Fishing for your keys in your purse, you shrug. "Eh. It was alright."

"Come on, fif, give me something," He begs. "You had a lot more fun than you would've at that fancy gala."

Once you've found the keys, you loop the ring around your finger and look up at him. "Maybe."

He places his hand on your hip, pulling you closer. Looking up at you, he raises his brows. "Gonna gimme another kiss?"

Sighing, you let him pull you back onto his lap. You're glad it's late; the neighbors seeing the mayor's advisor canoodling with a biker is the last thing you need. When you meet Steve's eyes, you know there's no way you're leaving him without kissing him again - but he doesn't need to know that just yet.

"It was a nice picnic," You praise him, playing with the zip of his jacket. "What are we doing next time?"

His face lights up at the prospect of there being another date, but he does his best to remain candid. "Next time?"

"Mhm," You nod, deciding to put him out of his misery. It was a lovely night, after all; he deserves a little sweetness. But only a little. "One night isn't enough for us to get to know each other. You said it yourself."

Feeling his heart pound, Steve wraps his arms around you. "Why don't you let me worry about next time, then?" He utters, glancing down at your lips. "All you have to do is show up. My baby won't need to worry about a thing."

Flustered and desperately trying to hide it, you smile up at him. "Oh, yeah? Is that what I should come to expect with you?"

"Oh, absolutely," Steve confirms proudly. "Once you're my girl, you won't have to worry about a damn thing ever again."

"You seem pretty confident that I'll be your girl someday," You comment, biting your lip.

"More than confident, fiffy," He mutters, leaning in. "I've got you right where I want you already."

Immediately turned off, you narrow your eyes and pull away before standing up. "If that's what you think, then you're sorely mistaken," You tell him pointedly.

The dejection is clear in his eyes. "Wait- fif-"

"Goodnight, Rogers," You call out, slowly walking backwards. "See you around."

"Fif, come on!" He calls out as you turn away from him. "Can't leave me like this, baby!"

"Watch me!" You reply without turning back, unlocking and opening your front door. Without giving him another glance, you walk in and shut the door behind you.

On his bike, Steve can't help but let out a single, baffled laugh. What the fuck just happened?

"Sweet Jesus, Stevie, you got your hands full with this one," He mutters to himself. "What a woman."

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The muffled sound of cheers break you from your thoughts, reminding you of the group of bikers next door. Steve Rogers moved in a few weeks ago, but you're yet to have a proper conversation with him - having said that, you still trust him a heck of a lot more than Ben right now.

Gathering up all the courage you have, you head over and knock on Steve's front door, shivering from both your fear and the cool summer breeze. The door opens a few moments later, revealing Steve in a tight white t-shirt. A few of his friends behind him spot you, and immediately break into childish cheers. Steve rolls his eyes before stepping forward, using the door to shield you from their view.

"Hey there, fifty-three," He greets you gently, casually looking you up and down. "Are we being too loud?"

"No, not at all," You say instantly, playing with your fingers. "Uh... I just..."

"What is it?" Steve asks you, a look of concern growing on his face. "Everything alright?"

Wincing, you meet his eyes. "There's a guy... this guy I've been seeing recently, and we were supposed to meet tonight, but I cancelled, and he just completely lost his shit and got super pissed off at me, but he knows where I live and now I'm scared he's gonna come over and try something."

Taking in your words, Steve's frown deepens as he slowly nods. "Has he threatened you?"

"Not explicitly," You answer truthfully. "But he mentioned about how he knows my address, so I'm just a little... terrified."

"Right," He mumbles, thinking to himself before speaking again. "Tell him to come over."

Your face drops. "Huh?"

"Tell him to come over," Steve repeats bluntly. "I'll talk to him for you, fifty-three."

Blinking up at him, you can't help but nod. This is what you wanted, isn't it? "Okay."

"Come on in; we'll take care of you in the mean time," He says, opening the door a little wider before turning his head and yelling, "Wan, get over here!"

A redhead rushes over, smiling when she sees you. "Hey, Steve's pretty neighbor. I'm Wanda. Wanna join the party?"

Your cheeks heat up as you smile back. "Hi, I'm Y/N- but I don't wanna intrude."

"You're not intruding, fif," Steve assures you, taking your hand and gently pulling you in. "Come on. We have food and beer. Give me your phone and I'll handle this prick."

Just as Wanda whisks you into the living room, Steve takes your unlocked phone from your outstretched hand before reading through the texts, his jaw clenching as he scrolls up. The last thing you see before you're dragged into the room is Steve pulling one of his friends closer and muttering angrily into his ear.

"Steve has a crush on you," Wanda tells you, making you laugh softly. "Won't shut up about how pretty the flowers in your front yard are."

"Well, don't tell him this, but they're fake," You reveal quietly, making her gasp.

"He'll be heartbroken!" She exclaims dramatically before turning to the others. "Everyone, meet the famous neighbor from number fifty-three!"

Laughing nervously, you smile at them. "Hi. I'm Y/N."

A chorus of warm greetings overwhelms you, and Wanda gets to introducing everyone. There's Natasha who's sharpening a dagger, Bucky whose leather jacket is getting a little tight around his arms, Tony who's in the middle of trying to convince Bucky to just rip the arms of his jacket off, Thor who kindly gives you a tight hug and a beer, and Sam who Steve has taken with him to your house.

"Not everyone's here, but we're the only ones worth knowing," Wanda tells you with a wink.

They're a lot friendlier than they look, but you're not surprised by their warm hospitality as these aren't the only bikers you know. At some point in the night, you find yourself sitting on the couch in front of the window, through which you have a perfect view of Steve confronting Ben.

"Oh, honey, you don't wanna see that," Thor warns you, reaching his arm out to you in an effort to get you away from the window.

Keeping your eyes on Steve's intimidating stance as he yells at Ben, you shake your head. "No, I do."

Thor and Wanda share a wide-eyed look before shrugging. You watch on as Ben does his best to stand his ground, likely spouting utter nonsense. You gasp a little when Steve throws the first punch, feeling a jolt in the pit of your stomach. The fight quickly intensifies after that, but Ben can barely get a hit in edgeways against Steve who pummels him to the ground. You look away once Ben's face is covered in blood, breathing heavily.

"You okay, Y/N?" Tony asks, leaning forward.

"Fine," You reply with a nod before taking a long swig of beer.

A few minutes later, Steve and Sam reenter the house. Steve walks into the living room while wiping the blood off his knuckles with a handkerchief, the sight making your heart skip a beat. He walks right over to you, puts your phone back into your pocket, and crouches down in front of you.

"You okay, fif?" He asks with a whisper, waiting for you to nod before continuing. "I took care of him for you. You don't have to worry about that asshole anymore, alright?"

You nod again, putting down your beer. "Thank you, Steve."

"Don't mention it," He says before standing back up and holding his hand out to you. "C'mon, fiffy. Let's get you some fresh air."

Once you're outside with him, you wrap your arms around yourself, wondering how you got yourself into this mess. You're never online dating again.

You slowly walk around his front yard, unable to take your eyes off his bike. It stands out from the others. You can tell that it's old, but he takes good care of it. Watching him ride it is a daily habit for you, and ever since he moved in, the sound of the roaring engine has become part of your morning and night routines. It's almost comforting.

"Wanna go for a ride?" Steve asks from behind you, making you jump slightly.

"Oh, no," You say, shaking your head. "I'm good."

"C'mon, fif; it'll help you relax," He promises, resting his hand on your shoulder. "I'm a safe driver. Safest ride you'll ever have the pleasure of experiencing."

"I don't know," You mumble.

"It'll be fun. What do you say?" He asks, patting the seat. "Be my back warmer, fiffy."

And apparently, that's all it takes. Within minutes, your night has taken yet another turn, and you're currently riding through the dark on your neighbor's Harley.

Admittedly, it is fun. All your anxiety and fear from earlier has dissipated, along with your long-term stress. The only thing that you can focus on is how good the wind feels sweeping through your hair, and how safe you feel with your arms wrapped around Steve's back.

He takes you to the lake about a mile from your street, the one you walk by every now and then. It's calm, and peaceful, but you've never dared to come here past nightfall - Steve's presence, however, deters any fear you may be feeling.

"Pretty view, ain't it?" He asks while you get off the bike and smooth down your hair.

You look over at him with a smile. "Beautiful." And he is beautiful. Under the moonlight, his blue eyes look darker, but they retain their spark. His beard is neat and his hair is rugged, and he smells like pine and beer.

The two of you sit by the lake for a few minutes in blissful peace before Steve speaks up again.

"Why didn't you call the police?" He asks you, looking over at you with a slight frown.

You keep your eyes on the lake as you lean back on your palms. "They'd take longer to arrive," You explain simply.

He raises a brow and you know he doesn't believe you.

Sighing, you sit up and turn to face him. "Alright... I wanted you to beat him up."

That makes him smirk. Steve's proud not only that you wanted to see him in action, but also that you knew he'd fuck up anyone who hurt you. He's only been your neighbor for three weeks, but he already feels protective over you and your safety.

"The mayor's assistant shouldn't be saying stuff like that," He says teasingly, taking you by surprise.

"I'm not Walker's assistant; I'm his advisor," You correct him.

"Think he's a good mayor?" Steve asks you, inwardly sighing. John Walker is the bane of his life, working to extinguish gangs like Steve's and lock them all up. Why does someone as pretty as you have to work for that prick?

"He does his best," You tell him with a shrug.

Steve looks up at the starry night, letting out a sigh. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shiver, so he quickly pulls off his jacket before wrapping it around you and pulling you closer into his chest.

"Thank you," You utter with a small smile, feeling your heart race. "Thank you for everything tonight. Your friends are nice."

He leans down, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "You were scared of me before, weren't you?"

"You're not scary," You say truthfully. "Not to me, anyway. I grew up with men like you. I was raised by one."

Taken aback by pleasant surprise, Steve chuckles. "Yeah? Your old man was a biker?"

"My uncle," You tell him with a smile as the memories overtake you. "Before I moved here, I lived in Detroit. They, uh, my family was involved in some bad stuff."

"Bad stuff?" He repeats, intrigued.

"You know; typical, one-percenter biker stuff," You say casually.

"Detroit..." Steve mumbles under his breath as he connects the dots. "They weren't affiliated with the Drifters, were they?"

Your eyes widen as you sit up. "You know them?"

"You know them?" He retorts with a chuckle.

"I more than know them," You reveal. "My uncle was the leader."

Baffled, Steve moves away as though to get a proper look at you. "Old Vinnie was your uncle?"

"You knew him?" You ask, unable to hold back your smile.

"I more than knew him," He admits with a grin. "Vin was my fuckin' idol. Growing up, I heard all the stories about him and the Drifters. Damn. Shit, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for your loss."

You shake your head, patting his knee. "Thank you."

Steve can't help but stare at you in awe. Here he was, thinking you were a simple city girl, and you turned out to be the blood of the most legendary man he knew. "If I knew you were Drifter blood, I'd have fuckin' killed that asshole," He tells you, referring to Ben.

"Ah, that's alright; he's learnt his lesson," You say flippantly. "And, for the record, I could've easily taken care of the situation myself."

"Oh, yeah?" Steve asks with a cocky smirk.

"Absolutely. I would've left him worse off than you did," You tell him honestly. "But, before Uncle Vin died, he made me promise that I'd stay out of trouble. That I'd get out of Detroit and live a simple, safe life."

"So, you let me do the dirty work, instead?" He questions before shrugging. "Works for me. I'd be honored to help you out whenever you need me, fifty-three. Anything for the niece of Old Vinnie."

"I appreciate that, Rogers," You say gratefully. "I'm glad you're my neighbor."

He smiles, nudging your shoulder with his. "The feeling's mutual, fif. And, for what it's worth, you can consider yourself one of us. I know it won't be the same, and you'll always be a Drifter at heart, but I'm here. Whenever you need me."

"Whenever I need you?" You repeat teasingly.

"Whenever," He confirms, before narrowing his eyes at you. "How could a Drifter ever work for a man like Walker? You know he's actively working to destroy gangs like us?"

"I know," You say bluntly, pulling your knees up to your chest.

"And you don't think you're betraying the biker blood in your veins by advocating for him?" He questions you, almost offended.

Letting out a long sigh, you look up at the stars. "My uncle taught me a lot of things, Rogers. Everything I know. I live the way I do because of the values he gave me. He had these sayings he lived and died by, and some of them stuck with me," You tell him, recalling your uncle's words. "One in particular stood out. A stupid man attacks his enemies. A smart man befriends his. The stupid man strikes in broad daylight, head-on. The smart one takes them down from the inside."

Lips parted, Steve raises his brows. He takes a few seconds to gather his thoughts before letting out a chuckle of disbelief. "I had you all wrong, fif."

"Appearances are deceitful," You say with a smirk. "Another one of Vinnie's sayings."

Shaking his head, Steve is in awe of you. "What does my appearance tell you about me?"

You look him up and down, taking the chance to soak in his beauty. "You appear hard, and confident. Maybe even mean. But I know men like you, Rogers. Underneath it all, you're a little sweetheart."

"Is that really what you think?" He questions, leaning closer to you. "You're really not scared of me?"

"Not in the slightest," You whisper back, never once backing down from his intense gaze.

He licks his lips, moving even closer. "You... you're really fucking sexy."

You snort at that, rolling your eyes before pushing him away. "I'm not that easy, Rogers. You're gonna have to try harder than that."

"So, I have a chance?" He asks, doing his best to hide his excitement.

"Sure," You answer him with a casual shrug. "Why not?"

"Alright," He says, accepting the challenge. "Let me take you to dinner tomorrow."

"Can't. I'm busy," You reply, standing up. "Take me home, Rogers. I'm tired."

With that, you walk back over to the bike, and Steve rushes to follow you with a racing heart and a growing smile. This is gonna be fun.

steve masterlist

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