GOD M!CLOVER IS SO SILLY AND ITS SUCH A GOOD IDEA?!?!?? THE WHOLE HAVING HOPE AND COMPASSION FROM FOUR MONSTERS THAT HELPED REVIVE CLOVER IS SO GOOD???????

Is this what Sonny felt like as the head of the motorcycle club? Taking hit after hit, heavy piece of news after the next? Feeling rocked without a chance to regain his footing before the next hit? If so, you owed him an apology for not seeing it sooner. Turns out the matriarch has a huge blind spot, too. 

You winced as your teeth sank too deeply against your bottom lip. 

The robe stays on.

You glanced at the couch as you passed by it again. The gun on the coffee table sat unassumingly nestled between the remote and a candle. The yellow tape marked it as the play gun. The real gun, yes, but the one that had never been loaded, never been shot, never been used for anything except play. You had always assumed Sonny hadn’t looked too hard at why he got off to gun play, but maybe you were wrong. Sure, you had been the initiator, but you also knew that Sonny adored you. Especially in the early years, he was incredibly cautious with you when it came to anything physical between you. “Early years Sonny” was not current day Sonny.

The sound of his motorcycle got louder as he drew towards the house and it drew your attention back to the room. Back to the refrigerator which was humming loudly in the kitchen. Back to the sudden dryness in your mouth. Back to where the fuck to be in the room when Sonny came through the door. 

You rolled your eyes at yourself and shook yourself slightly. Sonny would see the gun on the coffee table. He would see the robe and probably, truth be told, the tension in your body, and he would get it. Before you could drift again, keys were jangling at the door a beat before it pushed open.

Your feet took you across the room and you finally got to do something with your restless energy. Sonny turned to greet you with a ghost of a smile across his face. Crinkles appeared around his warm eyes, but you didn’t miss the way his gaze snagged on your robe before coming back to your face.

“Welcome home,” you murmured before he could say anything - ask anything. Hands reached towards his vest before you closed the distance between you and used the buttery leather to pull you in to him. 

“Missed you.” Murmured again, but this time against his mouth.

“What a welcome,” Sonny breathed into your mouth. 

His head angled and he deepened the kiss momentarily. A hum reverberated between you as your teeth sunk into his bottom lip now. You weren’t even sure who it came from. 

“Guy could get used to this.”

You huffed a laugh into his face and stepped back half a step before sinking down easily. Sonny’s boots were so dusty it was almost hard to make sense of the knotted laces. There was a strangled noise from above you as your fingers began gently untangling them.

“You don’t have to doll that, doll.” Sonny’s protest was low. You thought of the gentle peaks of meringue as tension in the room spun a little thicker.

“Wanted to give you a proper welcome home.” 

Your words were spoken to his feet as you gently tugged on his calf so he would lift up. Each boot was heavy as you pulled and coaxed one after the other off of his feet. They made a small thud as the fell to the floor slightly askew. You fought the urge to straighten then just to have something to do with your hands and a reason to delay the inevitable. A big part of you didn’t want to stand back up.

Finally, you let your fingers drag against the rough denim over his shins, squeezed gently, then slide back up and caged closely against him. Sonny’s expression flickered again as you made eye contact, but you didn’t have enough time to parse his first expression. Now…now, he was looking at you like you were something very important. He was looking at you with an expression that reminded you of when you first got together. The single-minded intensity stripped you more bare than you were ready for and you allowed your gaze to dart in the direction of kitchen as the humming in the background ceased.

His hands framed your face in a warm and calloused grip. The skin against his the balls of his hand stood in stark relief to the softness of your face. It was the warmth and the grip that steadied you briefly. His shoulders hunched up to his shoulders as he hunched down to kiss again in a brief but searing kiss. 

Sonny’s fingers dropped and tangled in yours as he tugged you in the direction of the living room. “Come with me, doll.”

Your heart kicked up an impressive rhythm as you trailed behind him obediently. But it wasn’t in the direction of the coffee table or couch that he led you. Instead, Sonny cut a path to the large armchair juxtaposed next to the couch. His legs spread open wide after he turned and sank into it. With a slouch, he tilted his head subtly.

“You look so nice,” he rasped with a heated gleam in his eyes. 

The sweep of his eyes was followed by goosebumps and you swore you could feel where his eyes traced and where they lingered. The corners of his mouth turned up a little and he sank a little lower into the chair.

“Could I get a full three sixty?” 

His tone was pleasant, but hard to parse. Was he trying to set you at ease or put you on edge? On one hand, his lack of questions set you at ease. On the other, having you stand while he gazed at you was not what you had in mind. You wanted him to touch you.

Without responding audibly you nodded and chewed the inside of your cheek as you turned around slowly. What the actual fuck was going on with you? You’d been with Sonny more times than anyone could hope to count and here you were, married, in the living room of the house you owned, feeling bashful in a robe as you turned in a circle? Wilder things had occurred in high school than what was happening right now. Knowing that didn’t cool your cheeks that felt warm with something uncomfortable and too difficult to name as you slowly came to face him again.

The skin between Sonny’s eyes tugged down and the corners of his mouth mirrored them.

“Doll?” His tone was still quiet, but he looked concerned now. 

You shrugged and glanced up towards the ceiling as the discomfort grew. “Can you touch me?” you asked. “Please.” You added in a small voice.

“Oh, I’m going to touch you” Sonny reassured and the edges of his words were warm. “I’m just enjoying the view first, if that’s okay.” 

Okay, so he was not trying to make you uncomfortable. He was probably trying to figure out what the fuck you wanted. 

“I spent my day in a wood shop looking at a bunch of guys,” Sonny said with half a sigh. “To come home to this view? I have to savor it a little before I muss you up.” 

A smile flashed across his across and the skin of your cheeks cooled and then heated again for another reason. Emboldened by his admiration, you let your fingers trail to the sash of the robe. You glanced between it and his face and this time when you sank your teeth into your bottom lip it was in tease and not anxiety.

“By all means,” Sonny said with an amused smile and dramatic roll of his wrist.

Satin slipped through your fingers as you tugged and let the loose bow come undone. The robe didn’t open much as he sash fell against your thighs, so you helped it along and let the collar drift from your shoulders to your elbows.

“Jesus Christ,” Sonny swore as he stood in one abrupt movement.

He crossed the distance between you two in two steps before he sank to his knees. Warm hands framed your hips as Sonny nosed against your abdomen. You clenched and felt your arousal slide out of you honey slow. It was too tempting to let your hands fall to the top of his head, so you didn’t fight it as you let your fingers sink into his head. 

“Gotta taste you,” Sonny rasped wetly against your skin, thumbs hooking on the edges of the robe and pulling it further down.

His nose trailed a line to the top of your mound and he coaxed your legs wider apart. One of his hands drifted to rest on your belly. His thumb parted your lips and bared your clitoris to him. Without pretense or hesitation, he latched onto you. Alternating between short quick stroke strokes and long firm strokes of his tongue pulled a noise from the back of your throat. Your hands flailed out, grasping at nothing but air as you fought for stability.

Sonny used the opportunity to coax your thigh over his shoulder and he let the hand drift away from your abdomen to form a strong support at your back. Caught between the cage of his grip, his mouth, his heat and you finally felt your brain quiet. Two fingers slipped into you and you were brought back to the moment. Sonny’s glance flicked up to yours as you gasped audibly this time. 

“Sonny,” you half gasped half whimpered. You didn’t even know what you were asking for, but it came out like a plea.

“Got you, doll,” Sonny promised in the same low voice. “Let yourself fall apart for me.”

His thumb circled around your clit as his fingers thrust into you and your hand flew up to grip his free shoulder in a tight grip. A hum of approval traveled up his arm and you shivered with arousal. 

“There you go,” Sonny praised. 

You preened under the approval and when you glanced at him again the smile ghosting around his lips told you he noticed. “Good girl,” he murmured in approval again. He picked up his pace, driving his fingers into you in an unrelenting pace as he thrummed at your clit.

“Pretty girl, come for me whenever you want.” 

“Fuck,” you swore as surprise and arousal ripped through you again. 

Sonny wasn’t exactly quiet in bed, but this level of attention and coaxing was going to make you combust after the day you had had. It was like he had nothing else to do and nothing else in mind. He was still fully clothed and when he pulled his fingers away to swipe at you with a leisurely lick of his tongue this time your knees buckled. He caught you easily and eased you to the ground. 

“Beautiful.” His gaze lasered between your thighs as he wedged his shoulders between them.

Before you could brace yourself, his mouth was dropping to your sex again and he <devoured> you. You let sensation wash over you as you writhed in his arms, thankful not for the first time that you lived in a house. Especially when Sonny sank three fingers into you and sucked your clit at the same time. His shoulders prevented your involuntarily tensing and he only sped up his ministrations. Your eyes drifted to the gun on the table and a wisp of a thought brushed against your brain - weren’t you intending this to be the other way around? - but your orgasm lit through you before you could say or do anything more.

“Good girl,” Sonny was saying as your moans tapered off and you whimpered, writhing in his grip. “I got you, doll. Come for me.”

“Fuck - Sonny!” you moaned again and another wave ripped through you, a second orgasm pushed over the edge by his words and the steady pace of his fingers. His gaze pinned you in the moment and you held it as you coasted down.

A giggle slipped through your lips involuntarily and Sonny smiled up at you. 

“There’s my girl,” he rasped and you giggled again. 

He pulled himself up to drape over you. The robe was cool against your skin as he pulled up an edge to cover the bits of your torso that his arm couldn’t cover. You couldn’t stop laughing as the chemicals in your brain spiked.

“I got you, doll,” Sonny said quietly against your temple.

Your laughter twisted abruptly into a sob and Sonny’s hand came up immediately to brush the suddenly falling tears.

“I got you,” he repeated firmly.

“Sonny, Sonny.” You couldn’t form a sentence between the sensation and the tears. All you could do was say his name like a prayer.

“I know,” Sonny answered as if you had said something coherent. “I know. I’ve got you, doll. I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

You cried harder and turned into his chest. His t-shirt was soft against your face and the smell of leather, cigarettes, sweat, and Sonny’s aftershave surrounded you. 

“I’ve got you,” he repeated firmly.

“This was supposed to be about you,” you managed to choke out. His hum tilted up like a question. “You were supposed to come home and I was supposed to be your gift.”

“You’re my gift every single fucking day,” Sonny said with a fierceness that startled you enough to stop your crying as abruptly as it had started. 

“Every day,” he said again with the same firmness as he thumbed at the last of your tears. 

“You know what I mean,” you mumbled. His skin was warm under your fingers as you gripped his forearm. 

“I know what you mean,” he allowed. “But you needed something different.” 

He said it like it was that simple and you realized you were right. Sonny would know. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “For letting me handle things with Daniel at my own pace.”

“I know you can handle yourself, but you do not have to do it alone. Okay? Don’t forget that.” Sonny peered down at you and brought his hand up to brush against your forehead.

Club or gang. President or member. Real or faking it. It really didn’t matter. They were all the same in the end.

Your phone pinged from your pocket and the butterflies in your stomach told you it was Steve before you ever looked at it. It wasn’t anything special. He was excited to see you. If anyone was around to see the size of your grin you would have been embarrassed. 

Fuck. He make it so hard to remember the whole friends thing was your idea. You didn’t want to admit how much you liked him. He was sweet and surprisingly funny. He spoke about the world in an idealistic way that made your heart ache in the best damn way. It wasn’t as though he was a dreamer. He truly believed that the world should be that way and when it wasn’t he took steps to make it that way. Even if they were small steps. You liked that. You also liked the way he looked at you. He looked at you like you were something special and for a minute he actually had you believing he wasn’t going to break your heart the first chance he got.

Thankfully, your common sense and self-preservation came back before the handsome asshole showed up in your driveway. 

“Hey, Firecracker,” he greeted with a crooked smile and your stomach flipped from just the tiny curl of his lip. 

On second thought, you were so fucked. 

You pulled the helmet from his hand and swung your leg over the back of his back, slipping it over your head. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself. Yeah, yeah, you’re beautiful. Cocky jerk,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek. The rumbling laugh that fell from his lips did something to you you didn’t want to examine in the moment so you pushed it down and told yourself it was a moment of insanity. On your part or his you couldn’t be sure just yet.  

Thankfully riding on the bike gave you the quiet to get your head clear. There was no chance of him whispering some charming line that made you forget all the reasons why falling for him was a bad idea. You sunk against his back and let your chin rest on his shoulder, resisting the urge to nuzzle your face against his neck. He was annoying how easy it felt to give into him. Steve’s hand dropped down to your shin and his thumb rubbed back and forth, catching your smile in the side mirror and you playfully rolled your eyes when you saw him watching you and stuck out your tongue. He laughed and squeezed your leg, leaving his hand there until he was forced to move it on the next turn. So you liked when he touched you. Big deal. Who didn’t like when a gorgeous man touched them? It didn’t mean whatever the hell he thought it meant. 

By the time the bike came to a stop you were warm and fuzzy from more than just the sunshine. The fuzzy feeling quickly faded as a frown tugged at her lips. He took you to the lake? This wasn’t what you were expecting. It was a public park with a well known, very popular lake taking up most of the middle. You’ve run around it several times and have seen plenty of couples having picnics and families bringing their kids to play. You just hadn’t expected Steve to bring you here for your date. Friend date. You took the hand Steve held out for your and swung your leg over the bike, your boots kicking tiny bits of gravel out from under you. What was he trying to pull by bringing you here?

Steve was quiet as he laid the blanket he brought out onto the grass a few feet away from his bike and you were grateful. You needed a second to breathe and understand what was expected of you. A dinner you could handle. There was a start and end time. Bathrooms to escape to and waiters to interrupt. You could stuff your mouth with bread when he asked something a a little too personal. So, you could still do that but it would be less acceptable without a basket of complimentary bread between you. He dropped to his knees and looked up at you, an expect look on his face and your mouth went dry at the sight. 

If you hadn’t been so confused you would have combusted right then and there. You took his hand and sat down on the blanket next to him, glancing over everything he brought. Natasha obviously helped him pick out things you would like and you weren’t sure what to make of that either. 

“Why do you have that look on your face? Like you’re debating whether or not you’re going to punch me.” The question in Steve’s voice caught your attention and you realized you were frowning as you took in your surroundings. 

“I wasn’t expecting this,” you murmured, quiet and unsure. You didn’t know how to react to something like this. It wasn’t something you were used to. Steve, quite adorably, tilted his head to the side and asked, “What were you expecting?” 

“I don’t know,” you muttered thoughtfully. What had you expected from him? “You trying to win me over or something. Taking me some place you couldn't afford just to prove that you could. Showing off your position within the club and the city by getting us in somewhere fancy. Letting me know just how important and powerful you are in the community.” 

Steve brushed his hair out of his face but his bangs flopped back in front of his face and your heart ached at the sight. It begged you to kiss him. Just once. One little taste of his lips to satisfy the hunger he brought out in you. He looked so gorgeous and maybe a little shy, unsure of how to respond to your assumption of him. There was a frown sitting on his face that didn’t look like it quite belonged there and the urge kiss away his worries was hard to resist. 

“You’ve dated some real assholes I take it,” he finally said, watching you closely and you had to look away from him. He was good at knowing what was written on your heart before you were ready for him to read it. 

“You could say that,” you muttered purposely quietly.

“I’m not really into the whole powerplay thing.” 

He propped himself up on his left elbow and popped a blueberry into the air, catching it in his mouth with little effort. For a split second you wondered how sweet his kiss would be with the taste of berries on his tongue. He smirked as if he could read your thoughts and you quickly looked away, grabbing one of the small sandwiches he prepared to help distract yourself from thoughts of how soft his lips felt against your skin.  

"What things are you into?" you inquired, hoping to avoid anymore distracting thoughts. That had to be a safe subject, didn’t it? It would likely be something along the lines of working on his bike or hanging at the bar with Bucky. There was the high chance it would have something to do with the club and that would be enough to remind her why she should stay away from him. 

"Art mostly. I like to draw. Charcoal. Paint on occasion,” he responded causally, so casually you nearly dropped the sandwich in your hand and Steve chuckled a little. "What? Wasn't expecting that either?" 

"No. No I wasn't,” your voice was surprisingly soft and you picked at the sleeve of your sweater, forgetting the food all together. Maybe this was a bad idea. You liked him more than you wanted to admit from that first night and now you were only digging yourself into a hole you wouldn’t be able to escape from. 

"Hey,” Steve whispered as he nudged your knee gently with his elbow and you looked up to see worry etched over his face. “You okay? Did I say something wrong? We can go somewhere else if you want. I thought you’d like this. You didn't seem like the kind of woman to like-" your lips cut him off before he could finish and he moaned into your mouth. How could you not kiss him? He cared. You realized that shouldn’t be something rare and enticing but you’ve dated enough to know it was. 

Despite initiating the kiss you quickly lost control. Steve devoured every piece of you when he kissed you. You’ve never been kissed like this before. In a way that consumed all of you. It left you wanting, desperate for more and that wasn’t a good thing. If you were thinking rationally you would have shoved him away the second the thought popped into your head but you were too focused on the way his hands felt pressing into your back. Your hand twisted around the fabric of his shirt as he pulled you onto his lap, taking advantage of the tiny gasp that left you and slipping his tongue past your lips. 

Things were moving too far, too fast and you needed to pull back before you completely lost yourself in his touch. You broke the kiss, slowly pulling away despite the way he chased after your lips. Your hands framed the sides of his face and he stopped moving, giving you the a shy grin as he leaned back on his hands to give you space. 

"You think you know me so well already, Charming?" you teased but Steve shook his head, something you couldn’t read flickering through his eyes and he whispered back, "No. Only an idiot would assume you were easy to figure out. Gonna take more than one night for you let me behind those high walls. I'm willing to wait you out, firecracker." 

Your stomach did a full on flip. Part of you wish he wouldn’t say things like that. You didn’t want to fall for him but you couldn’t help it when he was smiling at you the way he was. You grinned and pulled him in by his shirt so you were nose to nose, whispering against his lips, “Take me back to your place. We did the friends part, I think we’ve earned some benefits.” 

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You settled in the crook of his arm and stared up at the dark wood ceiling How you kept ending up in this dirty ass clubhouse, in this man’s bed you had no idea but you were starting to like the way it felt to wake up next to him. “You good? You’re okay?” Steve checked in again. He was constantly checking in and making sure you were okay. He did that after your one-night stand. He wanted to make sure he hadn’t gone too far and that you were both on the same page now that your hormones were no longer driving the moment. You liked that. You wiggled against him and nodded, assuring him for the hundredth time you were fine, squealing when he nibbled on your shoulder and neck. You playfully shoved at his face and he nipped at your palm, making you pull back with a playful yelp.

"Quit being weird,” you whined through your laughter. “Talk to me. Tell me something about you that no one else knows.” 

“What do you want to know?” 

You rolled over onto your stomach, laying half on him and half off because you couldn’t bare the thought of losing his touch at the moment. He scrunched his nose at you and you leaned in to bump your noses together but Steve had other ideas, tilting his chin at the last moments and catching your lips instead. His arms tightened around you and pulled you fully on top of him, his tongue slipping past your trembling lips. As easy as it was to let yourself get distracted his lips and his hands, if this was going to ever be anything you needed to know more about each other and he wasn’t going to distract you with sex again.

“Don’t distract me with your perfect lips,” you whispered breathlessly and he chuckled, asking again what you wanted to know. “Why did you go on the road? Why did you go nomad?” 

Steve shifted so he could see your face better and tucked his right arm behind his head, staring at you for a long moment. It was obvious he was debating what to say, how much he wanted to tell you and if things were more serious between you that might bother you. It does bother you, your heart was quick to remind you. Maybe it did bother you a tiny bit. For where you were at the moment, vague was okay and Steve seemed to agree based on his answer. 

"Had some bad habits that I needed to break." 

"Did you?" you wondered out loud. “Did you break them?” 

"Yeah, but it looks like I came home just in time to pick up another." 

You smirked at the suggesting you were just another bad habit he picked up. You couldn’t be mad at him for it. He was probably going to be the same for you.

"Is that what I am? A bad habit you need to break." 

Steve grinned and pressed a kiss to your shoulder, asking against the goosebumps on your skin, "Are you bad? Gonna break my heart, Firecracker?" 

You attempted a snide smile but it fell short. You could feel it so you didn’t need to see the wistful look in Steve’s eyes to know it was weak, uneasy and fearful. He made you bare, in more ways than one it seemed. Somehow he broke you down and left you vulnerable without even trying and you wanted to hate him for it. Instead, you found yourself tucking your head to hide whatever he was drawing out of you and you pressed a kiss to his shoulder, smiling at the feel of goosebumps forming under your lips. Hopeful the feel of your lips, soft and warm against his cool skin would distract him enough to let this go.

His head dipped and his index finger tilted yours back up letting your noses bump together. No such luck. 

 "Should I get out before you hurt me?" Steve teased, but there was a genuine concern behind the jest. 

"Probably,” you retorted with a smile so pathetic it rivaled the one you let slip moments ago and Steve caught every ounce of regret pouring off of you. He shifted in bed, pulling you back into his arms until you were secured on top of him, your legs tangled around his and his arms wrapped around you with warm hands resting on your sheet covered cheeks. 

"You don't have to break my heart first to keep yours safe. You're safe here with me, firecracker. I like you. Sparks and all.” 

That sounded nice. The words were pretty but that’s all they were. Pretty words that you doubted he could truly back up with action. You’ve been around the block a time or two and men like him always let their mouths run before they really put any thought into what they were promising. 

"What if it's out of your control? What if it's club related?" 

"Baby, nothing is out of my control if I don't want it to be.” The confidence in his voice made your heart skip a beat. Or t could have been the possessiveness in his voice when he called you baby. “The club and you, there’s no contest there. I know what I would choose. The real question is, do you?” 

Your brows furrowed and a frown tugged at your lips. What in the hell was he talking about?

“I don’t have a club-” Steve cut you off before you could go any further, “I never said you did.” You stared at each other. Neither of you were willing to back down or look away from each other. You were both stubborn and neither of you wanted to give in.

 “Well, what do you mean?” you asked, caving and letting him win whatever little contest the two of you had going. “What do I have to choose between?” 

Steve’s large hands came up to frame your face and he stared in your eyes, sincerity and adoration reflecting back at you. “Running and being happy, Firecracker. Are you going to run or are you going to let yourself be happy here with me?”

You were right this morning. You were absolutely fucked.

Maybe you had him under some sorta spell, and that was why he couldn't forget you. It would explain a lot. You captivated him from the moment you stepped into the bar, and he still saw stars long after you ran out the front door and out of his life. He never really stood a chance if he was honest with himself; Steve knew he was in trouble from the first glance. Two things were apparent right off the bat, you were going to be a handful, and it would be hard, if not impossible, to earn your love. Still, Steve chased after you like a novice sailor following a siren’s melody. He had no problem admitting he was willing to follow you out to the middle of the ocean only to find himself unable to swim in the dark waters you lived in.

In the past, Steve had a bad habit of falling too fast, loving quick and fierce. You would be his last. He just had a feeling things would go his way this time--if he could find you. 

As much as he wanted to see you again, he didn’t have any idea how to make that happen. He didn’t even know your name and had no idea where to start looking for you. Hell, he didn’t even know if you lived in Brooklyn. For all, he knew this could have been a stop on your way home where you already had someone waiting on you. All he had was the necklace you gave him, and that was a dead-end. It was just a one-night stand. He should toss the chain in a drawer and put that night behind him. Most men like him would. They would move on to the next girl and forget you existed. Steve, though, he’s stubborn (so says Bucky), and it’s a good thing he is because it’s always worked in his favor. 

Steve ran his thumb over the gold pendant resting against his chest and grinned as he watched you move around behind the bar. 

The one place he would have never thought to look. 

"Well, I'll be damned,” Steve whispered to himself, still watching as you talked and laughed with customers. 

Natasha mentioned she hired a new girl he hadn’t met yet a few nights ago, but without knowing his siren’s name, there was no way he could have connected the two. He had no idea that this Y/n was his Y/n. Now that he found you, he only had to get past the high walls you built up around your heart.

Steve parted the worn red leather stools to make room for him to lean against the polished wood, drumming his fingers impatiently along the bar top waiting for you to finish up with the man you were serving at the far end and finally notice him. You gave the stranger in dark brown leather a high squeaky laugh in return for the lousy pick-up line he threw at you. It wasn’t the same laugh, Steve knew. The laughter he memorized was light and airy, your whole body shook when it took hold of you, and it made your eyes sparkle in a way that could steal his breath like nothing else. Steve found that out early in the night when his beard tickled your inner thigh. The memory made him grin. He wanted to hate how fake you sounded right then, but it also meant you let him see a part of you you kept hidden from the rest of the world, and that was enough for hope. 

You turned around and stopped short when you spotted Steve standing there, grinning at you, looking just as pretty as he did the last time you saw him. He trimmed his beard, but it was still thick only cleaned up a bit, and those pretty blond locks tucked behind his ears made him look like a young boy. The tattoos on his forearm peeking out from the rolled-up sleeves and the black leather kutte resting over the snug burgundy Henley reminded you he was no boy. He was trouble, and he was looking to drag you into his mischief. That wasn’t going to happen, no matter how pretty he looked. It took a second for your brain to remind your feet they needed to move. Steve slid around the bar as you made your way towards him. 

"What are you doing here?" You asked quietly, refusing to look up from the IPA bottle you were cracking open. 

"Came to see a friend of mine. His wife owns the place. I have to admit I thought it would be a lot harder to find you." 

Shit. You stopped mid pour and set the glass down, half full of foam. That would need a re-pour. 

No. This wasn't happening. Surely, he didn’t mean… No, no. No. 

"Wait..." You needed to know before you said things you couldn’t take back. "Are you talking about Bucky?" 

Steve tilted his head to the side. Now, that had his curiosity piqued. You could see him processing your question, and you knew exactly what he was thinking: Why did you know that Bucky was Bucky? It was rare that Bucky interfered in Natasha’s business at all. Everyone knew who her husband was and what he was, but it never went beyond James Barnes, Vice President of The Howlers. This sounded like you were… friends? 

You should have kept your mouth shut and walked away the second you saw him. 

"You know, Buck?" 

Buck... Oh, god. 

It suddenly all made so much sense, and you were such an idiot. 

“Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this? I’m a decent person, aren't I?” You asked, looking up at the ceiling as if someone from the heavens would answer you. “This is so bad. Why do you have to be you?” 

You groaned and dropped your head to the bar top. Your one night stand was Bucky's best friend. Club president. Your Steve was Steve Rogers. The Howler’s MC President. The man who went on the road for three years and no one knew why, the one who went nomad and only returned home a few weeks ago. This was why you never let tequila make your decisions. You always end up doing something foolish, like charming bikers that will break your heart.

“I think this necklace of yours might be my good luck charm. Led me right to you, firecracker.” 

“Good luck or a curse?” You grumbled against the slick wood top. Steve hummed, clearly amused by the light chuckle that followed. You slowly lifted your head to glare at him, and he simply grinned back.

“Definitely good luck, sweetheart,” Steve assured you with a wink.

You refused to smile, and you certainly weren’t going to be the one that looked away first. You won’t give in to whatever he’s playing at. Steve settled against the wood and stared right back; his bright blue eyes glittered with amusement and something else that made your skin tingle and your inside burn with want. You recognized a young blond man from a night or two spent at Bucky and Natasha’s place strolled by the bar, only slowing down long enough to pat Steve on the back, but Steve didn’t even blink at the distraction. 

Nothing could pull him away from you. 

“Hey, Nomad. You comin’?” 

Nomad? 

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute Clint. I’ve got some business out here first.” 

You could hear Clint cackling as he walked down the long hallway that led to Natasha’s office. You wondered what the club wanted here and how often the club— and Steve— would be hanging around. Natasha said there wasn’t any overlap between the two. There was a moment of uncertainty and fear when she first offered you the job. You didn’t know if you could work for her if her business was mixed up in club business. That was until she assured you the club didn’t interfere in her affairs. That put some of your worries at ease, not all but enough to give you the courage to accept the job. Your last run-in with an MC was why you ended up south Brooklyn begging Natasha for a place to stay and a position. That was how you ended up working at Red Star and sharing a pathetically tiny apartment with your new friend Wanda. 

There was no one else, no other friends to run to if things go south again. This was the only second chance you were getting, and you couldn’t blow it on someone like Steve Rogers. 

“Thought your name was Steve?” 

Steve grinned.

“That’s my given name. These idiots call me Nomad when they aren’t calling me Prez or Cap. Stevie on occasion. Everyone’s got a nickname ‘round here.”

You’ve heard plenty about their nicknames and all the things they’ve done to get them. 

“I think I prefer Charming,” you mumbled, walking down a few stools to finally hand over a fresh, less foamy IPA to the grump at the far end of the bar.

Every time you moved, Steve followed you, dodging the bodies sitting and standing, and there were several times you had to tell your heart to shut up and keep the flutters to herself. It was becoming increasingly evident that Steve wasn’t going to give up easily. Seeing as how he would probably be around often, you needed to put an end to whatever storybook ending he was building up in his head. 

"You can call me whatever you want." 

You rolled your eyes and slipped the neck of two bottles between your fingers on each hand. 

“Can I have your name now?” 

“No.” 

Steve laughed. He just laughed as if there was something funny about what you had said. He didn’t seem annoyed or upset by your callus tone. If anything, he enjoyed it. Once your hands were free, he reached for you and circled his long fingers around your wrist, loose enough you could easily slip free if you wanted to, but you made no move to lose his touch. You didn’t want to draw any more attention towards the two of you than you had already. That was absolutely the only reason you were letting him touch you. It had nothing to do with how much you liked the feel of his warm, calloused hands on your skin.

“I could keep calling you my firecracker.” 

“I’m not your anything,” you were quick to correct him. 

“No, you're not,” Steve said with a grin. “We haven't even gone on a date yet.”

Yet! As if there is a chance it would be happening. He was sadly mistaken if he thought there was going to be another page to your story. You raised a brow, and Steve hung his head in defeat, but the smile on his face hadn’t changed when he finally looked back up. Something about this man made you want to hide in the safety of his arms and stop running long enough to see if fairy-tales were real.

That was why things between you would never work. 

“Why won’t you give me a chance, hm?” 

Because you're just like all the rest, pretty and dangerous, the harsh voice in your head screamed. It was probably better he didn’t know you thought he was pretty. He seemed like the type to focus on the compliment and ignore the rest.

“Mmm, I’ve played with bikers before. The ride is dangerous, dirty, and short-lived. The risk is never worth the reward.” 

That made Steve frown for the first time since he walked into the bar and your heart-clenched at the look of concern on his face. For a second, you thought about taking it back. Telling him he could be different and maybe he was a good guy with a half-decent heart—even if you didn’t believe it. 

“Sounds Like you're playing with the wrong bikers. My rewards are always well worth the ride, babydoll." 

On second thought, with lines like that, maybe you were right from the start. You weren’t about to fall for the same overplayed words he’s used on every other girl to catch his eye. It would take a lot more than a cheap shot to get you back in his bed. You leaned forward, ghosting your lips over his and slowly pulled back, grinning when he chased after you. You were starting to like this game, and that was begging for more trouble than your heart could handle. 

“All you bikers are the same,” you whispered, leaning across the bar practically nose to nose. “Sweet talk to get into a girl's panties, and then you’re over it. You all claim it’s love at first sight, but it never is. It’s about the chase, the high. It’s never about the girl.” 

Steve sighed. It didn’t sound annoyed, genuinely unsettled by your words, but he wasn’t irritated. More importantly, he wasn’t aggravated with you, but you were sure he felt sorry for you, which bothered you more.  When you dropped your gaze, he gently nudged your chin up with his knuckle until you willingly looked up to meet his eyes.“One problem with your theory, firecracker. I’ve already been in those pretty panties of yours, and I’m still chasing you. Did you ever think that maybe I’m not playing with you? That I actually like you?”  

The knot wedged in your throat made it impossible to answer. So you shrugged instead and let your silence speak for itself; no, you didn’t think that, and you didn’t trust him. None of what he said proved anything. It didn’t mean he was different. It just meant his rules were. The high would end once he won your heart, and you would be tossed to the side while he moved onto a newer, prettier skirt. 

Steve would get bored once he finally earned your heart and your trust, and that made him worse than the others. You would know. You pulled your chin away from his hand but stayed close enough to feel the heat from his hand.

"Go to dinner with me." 

"Steve--" 

"Y/n," Steve sighed playfully, grinning at the shock on your face. He knew your name, but he still asked for it? He shrugged, reading the question that was burning in your eyes. Natasha. She must have mentioned the new girl she hired, and Steve was smart enough to put two and two together. You weren’t sure you liked him knowing your name. He was that much closer to knowing all your secrets, and you couldn’t let that happen. 

"Go. To. Dinner. With me. Please." 

You hated how adorable he looked begging and pleading for only a few hours of your time. He was so cute, and you nearly gave in. Your head overruled your heart and reminded you exactly why you weren’t dating men like him. It only led to heartbreak, and you would very much like to avoid spending your nights crying over another beautiful biker who rode off with your heart. 

"I told you, I don't want anything serious. I’m not looking for more than what we had." 

"It doesn't have to be more than dinner, and I swear if you really don’t want to go on a date with this will be the last time I ask you. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, but I am dying to get you back on my bike. Next Saturday night, if you’re up for it. You can even pick the place if you want to. I promise it will be dinner only. No strings." 

"No strings?" you questioned, eyeing him for any signs of deceit as you did. There was none. Just an excitable puppy staring back at you, ready to give you whatever you wanted if you’d let him.

"Yeah, why not? We can be friends with benefits or whatever the kids call it nowadays." 

"Are we friends?" 

"We are if you say yes, darling." 

You could feel yourself giving in, and you already hated yourself for it because Steve was grinning victoriously, eyes bright, and pleading with you to say yes. You held up one finger ready with your conditions, and Steve quickly grabbed your hand, pressing a kiss to the back, lost in the excitement of what he already knew was about to leave your lips. 

“One dinner, and I’m not promising any benefits.”

Steve lowered your hand and tilted his chin an inch, so his lips were brushing yours when he whispered, “Good. I prefer to earn every one of those sweet whimpers.” 

Someone behind you cleared their throat, and you quickly yanked your arm back, bumping into the wall of bottles behind you, causing the glass to rattle against each other. Bucky’s eyes flicked back and forth between you, and it didn’t take long for him to put it together. A slow grin stretched on Bucky’s face, quickly turning smug. He knew about your one-night stand, not in any detail but that you liked your mystery man far more than you should, and you assumed Steve shared his thoughts on that evening.  You narrowed your eyes at the brunet when he opened his mouth, and it quickly snapped shut—grabbing the empty crates at your feet needing something, anything to use as an excuse to get as far away from both of them as you could. The fridge in the basement was the furthest you could get at the moment, and that was precisely where you were headed. 

“Don’t even say it,” you hissed as you pushed past Bucky. 

Bucky watched as Steve’s eyes followed you until you were out of sight, disappearing down the stairs behind the bar. He looked drunk, maybe a little high, and definitely a little lovesick. 

“Gettin’ into trouble again, Stevie?”

“You could say that, Buck,” Steve sighed helplessly. “I’m getting into something. Not sure what just yet.”