#rumlow not filing reports again

[ex0rin]

Hydra, babes, you know this is something he does

[harlequin-hangout]

The Winter Storm: Part 1

Series Master List | Bucky Barnes Master List

Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Warnings: minor alcohol use, guns, violence, bucky's intense gaze

Contains: Maybe angst, definitely a little fluff

Word Count: 3.7k

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I do not nor will I ever give permission for my writing to be copied, pasted, reposted to other sites, or edited in any way shape or form. Seriously, just don’t.

Summary: You're working as a secretary for one Alexander Pierce, and find your world upside down when the wrong file finds its way into your hands. There's more to your boss than you could ever imagine . . . Can you survive the Winter Storm?

You take a deep breath as you wait outside the door to the Owner and CEO’s  office. Alexander Mr. Pierce was an imposing man, and something about his demeanor usually unsettled you. Today, though . . . Today was different. Today, you could feel the electricity in the air as you fidgeted in your seat. Pierce Enterprises was a Technology Megapower, rivaled only by Stark Industries. Honestly, as far as you could gather, Mr. Pierce had started Pierce Enterprises as a response to a falling out with Billionaire Playboy Tony Stark. You had been called in after reporting discrepancies in the company books. You weren’t an accountant, by any means, no. You were a secretary for one of the middle managers. 

The heavy doors push open to your direct boss, Natalie Rushman. She was the Executive Assistant hand picked by Mr. Pierce. She was gorgeous, in a scary kind of way. You could definitely tell she was masking something, but beyond that . . . Blank. You’d mentioned that to your friend Wanda once, but she couldn’t see it. You’d always been far above average when it came to reading people, but she was better. 

“Go on in, Y/N, he’s expecting you.” She shoots you a small sympathetic look as you can feel your nerves collect in your core. The CEO. Why the fuck did he want to see you? Your footsteps echoed louder than you thought possible as you hesitantly made your way into the office. Mr. Pierce hasn’t looked up from his desk. In fact, you aren’t even sure he’s registered your presence, but you don’t dare say anything. You’re about to perch on one of the chairs on the far wall when-

“Who sent you here?” You freeze.

“I - I don’t understand, Sir. You asked to see me? Ms. Rushman let me in, but I don’t-”

“Stop.” He cuts you off, opening a manilla folder on his desk. “These reports shouldn’t have made it below the twentieth floor. You work on the sixteenth, and ONLY because Natalie deemed it fit to assign you to assist Evans. HE shouldn’t even see these reports, so how did you? Let alone find an accounting error? So I’ll ask again. Who sent you?”

“Mr. Pierce, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know they were anything that sensitive!!” Your heartbeat is increasing, your speech speeding up . . . Dammit. Get a hold of yourself. If there’s anything that’s going to make this worse, it’s panicking in front of Alexander Mr. Pierce. “Mr. Rumlow dropped them on my desk and told me to take them to Ms. Rushman. I tripped on the stairs on the way up, and when I was trying to put the papers back in order, I noticed that some of the records were wrong. Items in the wrong categories, a couple dollars here and there . . . I thought someone may be embezzling from you, so I reported it to Ms. Rushman..” Mr. Pierce’s eye’s narrow as he waits for you to continue. His breathing is even, that’s good. He’s skeptical, but calm. He may not trust you yet, but you’re confident that he doesn’t think you’re lying. “When Mr. Rumlow left me with the papers, his pulse sped up. He’s really veiny, you can see his pulse without touching him. He was on guard. Possibly even nervous. It didn’t sit right with me. I’m not accusing him of anything, but it’s an observation that has stuck with me.” You keep your eyes locked on his. If you’re going to get fired, you aren’t going to give the smug bastard the pleasure of hearing you beg. 

“Do you know what it is I do, Ms. Y/L/N?” His tone is calculated. You shake your head no. The smile that creeps across his face sends a cold shiver up your spine as he presses the intercom button. “Natalie. No one in or out for the next hour. I have some . . . business to discuss . . . 

The door of your apartment slammed shut behind you. You lean back against it, sinking slowly to the floor. Every cell in your body was shaking. He was a fucking Drug Lord. The moment Natalie had confirmed that no one would interrupt, Mr. Pierce had laid things out for you, plain and simple. The document you had seen wasn’t for the Tech company, and now you had two choices. Play along as Mr. Pierce’s pawn, or be “permanently relocated”, as he’d put it. You didn’t like the sound of that second choice, so you took the first. You take a deep breath and make your way towards the kitchen, needing a drink after the day you’d just had. An extremely stiff drink. You didn’t know a lot, just that you were to keep your head down, not ask questions, and do what you were told. Mr. Pierce had said you were to attend Stark’s Charity Christmas Gala as his assistant. He and Stark may not get along personally, but there were appearances to be kept. Natalie was to take you out tomorrow to get a dress, then spend the day teaching you the etiquette needed for some of the people you may run into. You shuddered as you mixed some regular eggnog with the alcoholic eggnog that you’d found at the liquor store. Less than usual, but still. That stuff burned and you really were a wimp when it came to alcohol. 

Mr. Pierce sat next to you in the limo. Your hair swept up, exposing the back of your neck, as well as the delicate gold chain that Natalie had lent you for good luck. The red and gold dress that he had picked matched beautifully, and the off-the-shoulder cut helped accentuate your collarbone. As long as you kept your head up and face neutral, she had said, you’ll look like you fit right in. You most definitely did not fit in. 

“There’s a special guest of sorts here tonight. Your ability to read people is uncanny, and I don’t like unknown players. Befriend him, figure out where he stands in the game, and then forget everything you saw. Don’t disappoint me.”

You follow behind Mr. Pierce silently as he moves through the crowd, warmly greeting person after person. None of these people knew what he was, that much was evident. You played the demure assistant, not drawing attention to yourself yet analyzing everyone. The current man that Mr. Pierce was talking to - Zola or something like that - was bragging about his father’s scientific works, while his mistress eyed someone across the room. Yes, Mistress. She was at least half his age, held no interest in Zola, and the wedding ring tan on his finger was so obvious that you were surprised it didn’t reach out and slap you. Glancing down at the tablet that you used to keep track, you made a note for Mr. Pierce that Zola talked a tough game, but based on the increased perspiration and affinity to people please, he’d never put up a fight. God, you just wanted this to be over. As Zola leaves, Mr. Pierce slips his arm around your waist and pulls you so close that you can feel his breath on the back of your neck. 

“Don’t mess this up, lest you want to be relocated. Permanently,” He reiterated. Your throat caught as you had to consciously control your breathing. A tall man was walking towards you, clad in a solid black suit with his long hair falling haphazardly around his face. He looked a bit out of place, definitely awkward, but the power that radiated from him . . . He belonged here, and he almost DEFINITELY was in a similar line of work as Mr. Pierce. You take a deep breath as Mr. Pierce plasters a smile on his wrinkled face and warmly greeted the towering stranger. You didn’t pay attention to what was said, but rather the man’s face. He was masking. Just like Natalie. Almost EXACTLY like Natalie . . . but he wasn’t as good. He was uncomfortable being here, most likely didn’t enjoy being in the spotlight – no. It was Mr. Pierce. He was attempting to read Mr. Pierce just like Mr. Pierce had you attempting to read him. It all clicked into place just as you hear Mr. Pierce laughing at something the man had said. It was a little brilliant, actually. By shopping out the deduction to someone who would usually not be given a second look, anyone who tried to see what he was up to would only be met with jovial holiday honesty. You turned your full attention to the man, determined to not be relocated. Taking his stance, perspiration, word choice, body language, and facial expressions into account, you found your in. This is someone who’s so used to people being afraid of him that he’s resigned himself to being alone for the evening. He was gorgeous, yet here without a date. You could use that. 

“Mr. Pierce,” you cut in suddenly and both heads swing towards you. “I’m so sorry to interrupt you and . . . I’m sorry, what was your name?”

“You may call him Mr. Barnes, Ms. Y/L/N.” You can feel Mr. Barnes’s eyes rake over your form, taking in every bit of you in that dress. You had to thank Natalie for the wonderful choice. Even if you were working, getting attention from such an attractive man. 

“Pleasure is mine,” He flashed you a smile, possibly the most genuine expression you’d seen him wear all evening. 

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes. Y/N, I’m assisting Mr. Pierce tonight. Mr. Pierce, I finished up the donation financial reports like you asked, and scheduled meetings with Zola and Rumlow, as requested,” you lied. “Is there anything else that you need me to complete before I enjoy the party?” You glance briefly over at Mr. Barnes and bite your lower lip ever so slightly. Thankfully, Mr. Pierce catches on.

“Not at all, you’ve earned the break.” Mr. Pierce places his hand on his lower back and gently  pushes you towards Mr. Barnes, who raises an eyebrow and looks down at you, obviously entertained. “In fact,” Mr. Pierce continues addressing Mr. Barnes, “Why don’t you spend some time chatting with Ms. Y/L/N? She’s new to the area, she could use some friendly faces. Have fun, kids!” He strolls away before either of you can protest. 

Mr. Barnes looks down to the floor, and you give him your most genuine smile. 

“I’m so sorry about that!” You start trying to concoct a story to explain your presence at the Gala, but when you glance up at Mr. Barnes’s face, your stomach drops. His mask is gone, and he’s studying you. Not like you’re studying him, no, more predatory.

“You’ve spent the entire night attempting to read me from behind one of the most dangerous men in New York. Why?” The statement caught you off guard and your voice caught in your throat. Now that Mr. Pierce had left, Mr. Barnes seemed . . . dangerous. You dropped your entire facade. A mistake? Probably, but you couldn’t help it.You were completely out of your depth. You risked a glance back towards Mr. Pierce, who was watching you like a hawk, however, he was out of ear shot. You put a calm smile on, and will your voice to be as steady as possible given your current circumstances.

“Do you want the work answer or the personal one?” you ask innocently.

“Work.”

“I didn't mean to offend. I was told that I was to help Mr. Pierce tonight with the social aspect of this event . . . When he drinks, he isn’t always the quickest.” Not a lie, however it was something Natalie had mentioned. Mr. Barnes eyes you trying to decide whether or not to trust you. You remind yourself to breathe, then continue. “I’ve been reading people my whole life. Mr. Pierce asked me to accompany him here because of it.” 

“Come with me. If you lie like you did earlier, you’ll regret it.” Shit. You were in trouble, and Mr. Pierce didn’t seem like the kind of person to have your back.

The door to Mr. Barnes’s suite clicked behind you. You hadn’t realized that he was an invited guest of Mr. Stark, but it didn’t completely surprise you.

“There,” he says, voice controlled enough that you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “Now, tell me who sent you.”

Barnes strode over to the table, grabbing the bottle of bourbon and taking a swig. He dropped his weight unceremoniously in one of the wingback chairs in the sitting area. He hadn’t bought Pierce’s matchmaker act for a second. Who was this girl? If she was a spy for Pierce, then he’s picked a lousy one. She was a fantastic profiler, he’d give her that, but a good profiler doesn't make a good spy, not without other skills. Regardless of who she was, she worked for Pierce, and that made her possibly dangerous, definitely disposable. He pulled his pistol out of its holster inside his jacket, racked the gun, and placed it on the side table to his left. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, close to his knees. His eyes bore into her as she cowered in front of him, having barely made it inside the suite. What did she want? What was she going to do? Could this Little Spy be ignorant enough to fight – Shit. Barnes didn’t let his concern show on his face, but seeing tears begin to well in her eyes as her body began to tremble, he was growing less confident in his spy theory. Immediately switching tactics, Barnes leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankle over his knee. 

“Take a deep breath, Doll. I’m not gonna hurt you as long as you answer my questions honestly. Let’s start with the basics. I already know Pierce is using his technology company as a cover for his movements in the underground. What does he pay you to do?” The girl takes a shaky breath and tries to steady her voice before answering. She isn’t completely successful, but he admired her effort.

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I work as a secretary for Vincent Evans at Pierce Enterprises. He’s a middle level manager for the marketing department. I report to Natalie Rushman, Mr. Pierce’s Executive Assistant. I learned about the Drug Lord thing two days ago on accident, I swear.” Barnes tilted his head, considering what she’d said. It would explain a lot of what’s going on, and scum like Pierce were not above using innocents to do their dirty work . . .

“I believe you.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Barnes could see the tension drain from her shoulders. “You don’t need to cower in the doorway, Honey. If you’re starting to do more intense work for Pierce, then you should know who he really is, what he’s capable of.”

Mr. Barnes continues as you cautiously make your way to the far end of the couch, not liking the idea of being close to the pistol on his side table.

. “Does the name ‘White Watch’ mean anything to you?” Your true crime obsession was paying off, look at that. 

“White Watch was an organized crime syndicate about four years ago. They operated mostly out of Brooklyn if I remember correctly . . . They were arrested about a year and a half ago, got caught in a sting.” 

“It was a rat, not a sting,” Mr. Barnes almost whispered.

“What do you mean? I thought–”

“I will answer your questions if– and ONLY if– you answer all of mine. Completely and to the best of your ability.” The cold edge had returned to his voice. “Lie to me or try to run, and I shoot you where you stand. Understand, Doll?” You nod, stilling your nerves. You were terrified, but you’d be damned if 

“Why are you at the Gala?” 

“Mr. Pierce told me to show.”

“When?”

“Just after I found out about the Drug Lord thing.”

“Why did you show?”

“Because my only other option was being “Permanently Relocated” as he put it, so I’m pretty sure it was either this or death.” Mr. Barnes sighed, not bothering to mask his annoyance.

“How was I involved? He’s never been subtle.” Bucky spat. It wasn’t lost on you that Mr. Barnes and Mr. Pierce definitely had a past, contrary to what Mr. Pierce had told you.

“He said there was going to be someone new. All I was told was he wanted me to read whoever that was and make an informed guess as to their motives. I didn’t ask questions because of the . . . Relocation.”

“His exact words?” 

“Your ability to read people is uncanny, and I don’t like unknown players. Befriend him, figure out where he stands in the game, and then forget everything you saw.”

“Don’t disappoint me,” Mr. Barnes finished. Your head snaps up to look him dead in the eye. His stare is still intense, you doubted it would ever be anything BUT intense, but the predatory edge had softened. Your voice came out in a whisper.

“How did you know that?”

“Because he’s said the same to me.” With that one sentence, you felt something inside of you snap. You were done playing the demure, helpless little assistant who obeyed everyone else’s orders and was at everyone’s beck and call. You were going to die here, but you weren’t going to take it lying down. Against your better judgment, you lost your temper.

“What the hell is going on here?? Three days ago I’m a fucking secretary, and now I’m somehow a pawn for a drug lord and whoever you are? And don’t even fucking try to deny it, Barnes, you both offered me the same deal: compliance or death.” A darkness returned to Barnes’s eyes as he spoke, his tone even, as if he were bored. Was he imposing? Sure. Were you scared? More than you’d ever been in your entire life. Were you backing down? Absolutely not. “You keep talking about these different pieces. The White Watch, Mr. Pierce, and an infuriating need to know the timeline, so what’s your game? You’re probably going to kill me anyway, so at least be decent and connect the dots before you take me out.”

“You think I’m going to kill you?” He smirked as you threw your tantrum, as if he were looking at an angry duckling. Intimidating, you were not. “One more question, Angel, then you get your answers.” You decided to bite your tongue and stare daggers at him, but you remained quiet nonetheless. “Pierce will almost definitely kill you for this. What’s your plan for that?” Your stomach dropped. You hadn’t even thought about that. You had been so focused on not getting shot by Barnes that you hadn’t even considered what Mr. Pierce would think of how the night went. 

“Let me help you with that one, but first I promised to fill you in. The White Watch was in it’s prime as of a year and a half ago. They were powerful. Too powerful for Pierce’s liking. What do you know about the organization?” Barnes leans back in his chair, waiting.

“ . . . Mostly street level thugs, but there were three heads. The Triumvirate. They acted as a check and balance system with each other, which is how they grew so quickly and were so successful. Impulsive choices couldn’t be made.” Barnes nods in approval

“Good. They were the Wolf, Avalanche, and The Winter Soldier. The Wolf mostly dealt with the financial side. Payouts, protection money, deals with others. Things like that. The Avalanche?” He waited for you to supply information, but you just shook your head. This hadn’t been in any of your documentaries. “He organized the troops. He was in charge of mobilization.” grabbed the bourbon and took another swig. 

“ . . .And the Winter Soldier?” you prompted, quietly.

“Him? Well, he’s a right bastard,” Barnes gave a cold laugh as he spoke. “He was the fixer. He operated alone, and without second thought. It’s impossible to get double crossed when there’s only yourself to worry about.” He sighed. “At least it should be. The Sting operation story was to keep the cops looking shiny. In reality, one of the Triumvirate had bigger plans for himself. He wanted all the power, and turned rat for the cops. He single handedly destroyed the White Watch from the inside because of greed.”

Your brow knits together as you think. 

“I . . . okay, that makes sense, but what does that have to do with –” Shit. The dots connected in your head. “Which one is he?” You asked darkly. 

“The Wolf,” Barnes replied. “He took all the White Watch’s financials for himself. That’s how he was able to build his company. Good news is that my organization has a couple people inside of Pierce Enterprises. We have Pierce covered from all sides possible, but we know less about how the company functions and who else may be involved.” A spark of realization hits you, and before you can stop yourself—

“Rumlow.” Barnes’s ears perk up at that name.

“As in Brock Rumlow??” His tone was dangerous.

“I-I think so, I’ve only known him as Mr. Rumlow, but he’s the one who gave me the financial folder that started this whole mess. He told me to take it to Natalie, but he seemed really nervous the whole time.” You can practically see the gears in Barnes’s head turning. 

“You can’t go back to Pierce, so you’ll come with me. We’ll get you to a safehouse where the Wolf can’t touch you. You have information that we can use, and with a little training, may not be bad in the field. We’ll leave with the rest of the party guests, less obvious that way.”

“Safehouse?? Mr. Barnes, respectfully, how do you expect to keep me safe from someone like Mr. Pierce? If he was really involved in the White Watch, then he’s one of the most dangerous men . . . I dunno, maybe ever?” You’re losing your battle with panic. You can feel your stomach begin to churn. “I’m just supposed to trust you and go with you? I don’t even know who you are!” Barnes looks you dead in the eye, vicious confidence reflecting in his.

“ You wanna know who I am, Doll? The Winter Soldier.”

No official tag list but here's some nerds who might like this: @vbecker10 @lunarbuck

[nekoannie-chan]

Secrets Chapter 13: Recruiting the Captain

Pairing: Steve Rogers X OFC, Brock Rumlow X OFC.

Word count: 1495 words.

Summary: Sometimes keeping secrets can be dangerous or a heavy burden, which is what Kathleen has been doing for years. She will also be in charge of guiding Steve Rogers into this century; meanwhile, S.H.I.E.L.D. will be looking for a way to kick-start the Avengers Initiative by integrating her as one of the superheroes, but that won't be the only danger they face.

Warnings: Jealous.

A/N: After long time working on this longfic, I finally post it. If you wanna be added to the taglist, let me know.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

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DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

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Secrets masterlist.

Previous chapter.

Next chapter.

A month had already passed since the fight that night. They went to the cafeteria that Steve usually goes to. The blonde waitress that always serves him didn't look very happy to see him arrive with someone else, specifically with a woman. They occupied one of the tables outside, which was the one that Steve always chose.

"So, this is one of the places you often come to," commented Kathleen as Steve raised an eyebrow. "You read the files," he said as he nodded toward Stark Tower.

The waitress approached them, and with a smile and a flirtatious look, she took Steve's order and reluctantly took Kathleen's, while Kath held back her laughter as she listened to the waitress' thoughts.

"Her name is Beth, and she likes you," she said to Steve with a hint of jealousy.

"You shouldn't read other people's minds," the soldier scolded her.

"I know, besides, didn't you see how I looked, if you heard what I was thinking you would laugh too, she thinks we are boyfriend and girlfriend or something " the woman smiled mischievously.

"No, Kath, don't even think about it; I may not be able to read your mind, but I know you," he warned her, and she pursed her lips.

"Do you like him?" asked the woman with a hint of jealousy and venom.

"Are you jealous?"

Why should I be? "I only care about you," she cursed mentally. She couldn't let him realize it when even she didn't understand what she was feeling.

After taking what they ordered, they went to the gym, where Steve had signed up for the motorcycle that S.H.I.E.L.D. had provided for the soldier. Now Kathleen was calmer to see that he was riding something rare or dangerous.

A few nights later, the doorbell rang several times, and the mutant went to open the door, sure that Steve had forgotten the keys again; however, she got a big surprised to see Fury at the entrance with a scary, serious face.

"Uncle Nick, is something wrong?" She was absolutely sure that something bad had happened; it was too late for it to simply be a courtesy visit, especially since she knew well that if he showed up in person himself, it was definitely not a good thing, so she let him in.

"We lost the Tesseract; I need you and Rogers to get it back," Nick reported, and she bit her lip nervously. "Kitty, where the hell is Rogers?" Fury had enough problems without adding to them, and the last thing he needed was to have lost the Soldier.

"In a gym, boxing I guess," she rolled his eyes. "He's got a habit of doing that and spending hours in there; we need to go get him," she said as she grabbed her bag and climbed into the van with Fury.

"So, you plan to start Project Avengers, even though the council cancelled it.” Turn right at the light," Kathleen said to see if she understood what Fury was planning. "So, Project Insight..." She knew that this project was a replacement for the other one.

"It will go on; you must make sure that the first part is a success; I will take care of the board," the director assured her as he turned around as the woman had indicated.

"Does my aunt know about all this?" She asked, and Fury nodded, "Do you think all that is enough to stop him if he were to come?" Does Loki work for him? She looked at him curiously, still not quite understanding the strategy.

"I'm almost certain that Loki works for him, as well as Thor, and that they will come too. I hope so, but if not, if things get complicated, we can call her. "Are you still talking to her?" He turned to see the woman.

"Of course, although to be honest, I miss her; it's been a while since the last time I saw her; she's in the next block," he answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Have you mentioned any of this to Rogers?" He stopped the car and grabbed her arm before she got out.

"No, no one must know anything about this; that has been made very clear to me, and the only thing that worries me is if things don't go as we expect them to," he said, and they both looked at each other and got out of the car.

Kathleen decided to wait outside. Maybe Fury could convince Steve; as far as she knew, he didn't want to fight again, and he still hadn't decided what he wanted to do with his life. She checked her cell phone; she wanted to know if Brock had texted her about it. There was nothing, and with that, she verified that Nick hadn't told anyone else. She sighed when she saw him leave alone; she didn't convince him.

"I'll go convince him, I know exactly what to tell him, Uncle Nicky, we'll be at the Helicarrier tomorrow, don't forget to send someone for us," she put her hand on Fury's arm.

"What if he doesn't accept?” He seems upset," Nick replied.

"He'll accept it, even if I have to manipulate his mind a bit for that. Leave it in my hands." He let go of Fury and went to catch up with Steve.

"Hey, it's time to go home," he said with an innocent tone.

"You're not going to convince me, Kath," he said, turning to face her with his arms crossed.

"I haven't told you anything; let's just go home; it's late," he smiled, making a scolded puppy face.

Steve sighed and motioned for her to follow him to where he had left the bike. He helped her up and felt her blush as she leaned her head on his back.

"Stevie, do you really not want to participate?" She said, using a tone somewhere between sweet and slightly womanish, "Stark is going to participate too.” Don't you want to meet him?" she asked. "And there will also be other interesting people," she added, looking at him innocently.

Kathy, don't start. He stopped when he saw the file on the tablet she was offering him; someone had tried to replicate the serum he had been injected with. "Do you really think it could be useful?” Tell me the truth," he said, taking her arm to look her straight in the eyes.

"Of course, I do, besides, the world deserves to know that Captain America did not die and is still protecting the world, in case someone thinks of doing something crazy again," she let go of his grip, she was not planning to say that, but she was not so conscious of what she was saying because she felt nervous to have him so close.

"Are you going to participate too?" she asked him.

"Yes, my powers could be useful, they're coming for us early tomorrow morning to take us to the others, I think you have a lot of reading to catch up on," she handed the files to the Captain. By the way, Steve "she called and he looked up. “Don’t think that Stark is the same as his father when you knew him; in fact, I think that even his father changed a lot, and both of them made enough enemies that almost nobody wants to work with them because of the things they did, so don't get your hopes up too high," she informed him, and he looked at her confused and nodded.

"Kath, I will participate." He pulled out the files she had gotten for him some time ago. How did he die? She showed him Howard's file.

"A car accident on his way to the airport with his wife," he answered, looking at the other file. "Did you love her?" A part of her feared she knew the answer.

"She's the first woman who didn't reject me or look at me with disgust before I was injected with the serum; isn't she beautiful?" She looked at the woman.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Steve," she replied bitterly. "Are you sure she loved you?" He had always suspected there was something dark about Carter, not to mention everything she knew.

"Yes... I guess, she waited for her ideal mate," he didn't understand Kathleen's position.

"If I had been her, I wouldn't have married someone else, much less if they didn't find your body without knowing if you were alive or not." Kathleen felt how anger and jealousy took over her body. She tried not to show any emotion on her face. "But well, you should read those files; you need to know all that information for our mission." She came closer to kissing him on the cheek, suddenly feeling how tears were accumulating in her eyes. She went to her bedroom, leaving Steve in the living room with the documentation.

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[luna-rainbow]

To be fair, I think we focus a lot on the “he said your Bucky and I’m a 16 yo in Brooklyn again” and forget that Rumlow really aimed below the belt with his lines:

He remembered you. I was there. He got all weepy about it. Till they put his brain back in a blender. He wanted you to know something. He said to me, "Please tell Rogers. When you gotta go, you gotta go." And you're coming with me.

It’s a horrific set of scenes to leave up to Steve’s guilt-ridden, haven’t found Bucky in 2 years imagination:

Confirmation that Bucky did remember him, and he remembered Steve so obviously that another observer could see it

He not only remembered Steve, whatever he recalled made him weep. Did he weep because of simply remembering, or did he weep because Steve left him there?

Steve might or might not be aware of just how they controlled Bucky (we would never know what Steve got in the file), but “blender” sounds awful, and the wording ensured that Bucky was passive in all this

According to Rumlow, they took that memory away from Bucky again

Then that BS Rumlow makes up about Bucky’s message and the final “and you’re coming with me”. Maybe for a flash Steve did want to go, if going meant finding Bucky on the other side.

Steve walking away from all that not knowing if Bucky was still alive, and even if he was alive, whether he still remembers him

I wonder if he almost felt relieved when that report about Bucky came over the news? At least Bucky was alive. They can sort out the rest later.

CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER (2014)

[1-800-barnes]

Undercover

pairing: detective!bucky x detective!reader

summary: When you and bucky go undercover to catch an identity thief, the investigation brings both of you closer.

word count: 1.7k

A/N: This is my first fic ever, please be nice<3 English is not my first language so if you see any mistakes please contact me!

Warnings: fluff, like one curse word, slight mention of a gun, B99 AU.

After Captain Fury assigned you and Bucky to go after an identity thief, Bucky seemed to be reluctant of being your partner, and that left you confused the whole morning. So when lunchtime came, you decided to ask him about it, “Buck, did I do something to you?” you asked him while entering the break room.

“What? No” he answered quickly, but it didn’t convince you “Then why are you trying to keep me off this case?” you whisper-yelled.

“All right” he started “Remember when you told me that you didn’t want to date cops? That bummed me out because I was thinking about asking you out,” he told you “Oh, okay” you hesitantly said, his words definitely caught you off guard, when you first started on the precinct you developed a crush on the blue-eyed man but couldn’t bring yourself to admit it, and now he tells you that he was thinking about asking you out?

“I know that’s not what you want and it just took me a while but I totally get it” you were confused about everything that’s going on “Bucky, I don’t know what to say…” before you could finish he interrupted you “Let’s just not make it weird, this is a case, we’ll work at it together because we’re professionals” before you could say something he rushed out of the room.

After not seeing Bucky for the whole day, you, him, Steve, and Natasha were in a van observing the guy you’re looking for “Why is he getting out here? I thought your C.I. said the drop was happening in a park.” you told Bucky. “Rumlow has the laptop with him. We should just arrest him right here.” you suggested “No, the buyer's the bigger collar. We've got to follow him in and wait for the handoff, let’s go inside,” he said in a demanding tone. “Wait, we look like cops. We're never gonna blend in dressed like this” you put your hair down and adjusted your shirt “How’s this?” you asked Bucky. Natasha turned to look at you “You look fine. Here, wear this” she hands you a jacket.

You and Bucky got out of the van and went into the restaurant, as soon as you got in you were standing next to Rumlow “Hi. Table for two, please.” bucky says. “I'm so sorry. There's nothing available. We're booked up.” the hostess said looking not interested at all, then you had an idea and decided to barge in “Oh, no, that's horrible.” you start “Tonight's a really important night for us. Johnny and I just got engaged, and this is where our first date was.” It took a couple of seconds but Bucky caught up with you “Oh, yeah, it would mean so much to Dora and me. I would have made a reservation, but I didn't know if she was gonna say yes” after he finished you kissed him on the cheek.

The hostess finally looked at you two “You are just so sweet together. You know, I'm sure I can find room for two young lovers.” she said. “Yeah, we are lovers... together... in beds” Bucky stated awkwardly and you just glanced at him giving a ‘don’t fuck up’ look.

When both of you got to the table, you break the silence “ Sorry about springing the engagement and romantic stuff on you.” you gave him an apologetic smile “No, no, no. That was great. I mean, it's what got us in here. Cheek kiss was a bit much. Very wet.” you looked at each other and laugh. You looked to your side and there was Rumlow and maybe his girlfriend? You didn’t know exactly, the only thing you thought about was how you and Bucky were screwed, they put you right beside the guy you were keeping an eye on. His girlfriend turned to you both and started talking.

The night couldn’t have been going worse, Rumlow’s girlfriend, whose name was Lucy, didn’t stop talking to you and Bucky the whole night. Although Rumlow seemed a bit skeptical he talked too.

After some time Rumlow and Lucy leave the table, but he sends the girl to get the car and he went to the kitchen, you turned to Bucky “He took the laptop case with him, he’s gonna make the drop, let's go.” Both of you went to the kitchen door but then, Rumlow saw you. “Damn, he saw us,” Your partner said worried but then he pulled you into a kiss. You couldn’t even process what’s happening, did he really just kiss you? Brock passes you two and Bucky pulled away “Good, good, we kept our cover intact, nice work,” he said rather quickly “Quick professional thinking out there. Very quick. Very professional.” you couldn’t get the kiss out of your head “Detective,” he said reaching his hand “Detective” you shook his hands “Let’s get back on the case” he instantly pulled you to get to the car.

You were back in the van with Natasha and Steve, following Rumlow. “How was the restaurant?” Steve asked quietly “Such a normal time” you squealed “Why are you being weird?” he said curiously. “We kissed” Bucky calmly said. “What?” Steve and Nat screamed together “To keep our cover from being blown, okay? We didn’t have a choice!” you exclaimed. Steve was going to say something until Natasha started uttered “He’s pulling over. It’s going down”.

You saw Rumlow leave the package by a tree “Guys, it’s not a handoff, he’s leaving it there” Bucky told Steve “You and Nat follow Rumlow, we’re going to stay with the package and get the buyer” the blonde agreed and right after, you and bucky left the car.

While waiting near the package, he was feeling perplexed due to the event that happened in the restaurant but it didn’t matter what he thought about, it was always you in the end. “Hey” he turned to you “We’re cool right?” he was worried about your answer, he couldn’t handle you being mad at him “Yes” you started “We’re fine, totally fine” but you weren’t, the kiss kept replaying in your head. “You know what? I’m actually really hungry, never got to eat at that fancy restaurant”. Now that he mentioned it, you actually were hungry as well “You know what I’m getting on my way home?” you asked him rhetorically. “Yeah, you’re gonna go to that cafe near your house, and get a cinnamon roll and a cup of hot chocolate,” he said casually “That's exactly what I’m gonna get,” you told him, you were going to tell ask him how he knew that but you felt another presence there “Bucky” you whispered, “He’s looking at us”. You could see the confusion on his face. “What?” the guy seemed suspicious so you had to be quick. “Well, this is happening,” you said more to yourself than him “Huh?” he hummed. Before he could say something else you grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss, it was like you were made for each other, it felt so passionate and real, but you couldn’t forget that it was all an undercover act.

As you saw the guy start to move away with the case, you push Bucky away “NYPD! Freeze” you yelled “We are police colleagues” you said pointing your gun at him. “You’re under arrest. This is a work event” he quickly said. You both handcuffed the guy and brought him back to the precinct.

You were alone in the break room, the events of the evening running through your mind until Bucky comes in “Hey, could you sign this arrest report for Rumlow and the buyer?” he asked calmly. “Sure” you answered. How could he be so calm, did everything that you went through today not affect him the same way as it affected you? Maybe he just forgot about the idea of asking you out and didn’t want anything related to you in that way. “Man, I forgot how long your signature takes” he joked. “This whole night was really weird wasn’t it?” you question him “Yes, it totally was. I just want everything to go back to how it was”. You didn’t know why but his words hurt a little, wasn’t he willing to try to go out with you? “You're right y’know?” he continues “We shouldn’t date cops, ‘cause we make a great team, we work great together, doll” Doll? During all your years working side by side, he has never called you that, but maybe it was just a slip-up. “I don’t want anything to change.” you said “Me, neither”. Well, at least now you knew that he didn’t want anything more. “Okay, then that’s that detective Barnes” you whispered. “See you around the precinct” was the last thing he said before leaving the room.

Later, doing some paperwork, you went to the files room to get a file for your new case, everything was quiet there until you heard the door open. “Hey,” the person said, you could recognize that voice everywhere, it belonged to the person whose piercing blue eyes couldn’t leave your head “How are you holding up?” He asked. “I’m fine, just tired, today was a long day” you turned around, and there he was, standing right in front of you “what about you?” you returned the question. “Same” he starts “but I feel like something’s missing”. You looked into his eyes, not understanding what he meant, he stared right back at you, but then his eyes went to your mouth and next thing you knew, you were kissing again but know it didn’t involve an undercover it was just you and bucky, no one else. His hands were now warm, holding onto your waist, while yours were on the back of his neck, the kiss was everything you could’ve asked for, you felt like you were on a movie until you heard something.

“Hey, Bucky” It was Steve shouting from the other side of the door “I need your help here, pal”.

You both pulled away from each other, panting heavily, cheeks flushed and a smile on both faces.

[psycheshorror]

“Shut Up” Pt. 2

pairing: MCU!Brock Rumlow x reader

summary: Rule #1 of hookup culture: Don’t catch feelings. More plot than smut. Smut still included, of course.

authors note: Well this took me a hot minute but I wanted to continue our dear reader’s story. Reader and Brock have some self-work to do.

part one

The next morning you wake up to a relentless alarm on your phone and an empty bed.

Disappointment washed through your stomach and you tried to stifle it down with a sip of water, wincing when your hips adjusted against your body weight. If you felt sore now, you knew the bruises on your body would tell quite a story.

Flicking the alarm off on your phone, you squinted at the text message left by an unknown number two hours ago.

Meet later tonight?

You knew you were playing with fire the way the disappointment was instead replaced with utter joy at the fact that he wanted to see you again. You shouldn’t. Brock Rumlow wasn’t the kind of man that would treat you right; sure, in bed he gave you everything and more, but the absence of him left a chill in the sheets that was frankly, quite terrifying considering he had only spent the night once.

Brock Rumlow filled your body with molten lava and the next morning took it all away and replaced it with ash. And no doubt would he continue giving and taking more than you could handle.

Against your better judgement, you sent your response.

Yes.

The next three nights you spent with Rumlow, you could feel yourself breaking the one unspoken rule.

You were catching feelings, hard.

You couldn’t help it - the man was so damn beautiful. From the way he tossed his head back and whined when you were licking his cock to when he glared at you and growled when you dared to wiggle out of his grip mid-spank. He was intoxicating.

You found yourself with a black hole in your heart the morning after each “meeting”. He was a drug that came with a dangerous high and an even more lethal withdrawal.

This bed will never feel the same, you thought, fingers weaving through the spot where he should be.

Should be? you winced.

That wasn’t a good sign.

It wasn’t like Brock would ever start a discussion about feelings, considering the most you ever spoke to each other was during sex. His low, gravelly whispers of “Good girl,” as you came around his cock or the degrading name-calling that he knew you loved was as far as you two got.

It’s not like you would know how to bring it up even if he did stay the morning after. “Hey so uh, I know my vag and your dick have been well acquainted, but I was wondering if your brain would like to get to know my brain and go on a date?”

Yeah, no.

Taking the sheets off your bed and trying desperately not to huff the ghost of his scent, your phone pinged with a message. Brock’s name lit up your screen better than any Christmas lights on a tree could.

Won’t be around for a while. Mission overseas in progress.

You let out an breath of relief that you didn’t known you were holding. Space could be good. Maybe by the time he got back you’d come to your senses.

No need to ruin a good thing by asking for more.

Good luck. You typed out, hitting send and stuffing the sheets that smelled like him into the washing machine. The voice in the back of your head scolded you for replying, engaging. There was no need for that.

Clicking the “start” button, you stared into the machine, watching the dirty sheets spin through the water. As the rinse cycle began, you found yourself hoping that the memory of Rumlow’s eyes glittering with lust and praise would be washed away with it. Maybe with a little break, he could stop haunting you.

Your phone pinged again.

Don’t forget about me.

Your heart fluttered annoyingly.

Oh, fuck. This was gonna be harder than you thought.

🥀

Rumlow had never been a man that was easily distracted from a target, but during this mission, his mind couldn’t help but to wander.

Shallow breaths, the way your eyes bore holes in his when he made you orgasm, the curve of your satisfied smile afterwards.

Barely being able to register Rogers’ words in his ear as he shout out orders, Rumlow missed a shot at his target and it almost cost him his arm.

“Distracted?” Rogers grunts, knocking the gun out of the target’s grip with ease.

Rumlow finds himself knocking the target down onto his knees, securing his wrists tighter than necessary, growling at the man’s resistance.

“I’ve got some things on my mind,” he confirmed, twisting a sheepish smile on his face. Pulling the man to his feet and shoving him towards the rest of the S.T.R.I.K.E. team, he applauded himself for appearing friendly with the Captain, even with the pang of annoyance sitting heavy in his stomach. Any day now. He couldn’t risk raising any red flags.

Rogers let out a good-natured chuckle and patted his shoulder. He fought not to shrug the man’s hand off. Damn woman. He gets laid a few times and all of a sudden Rumlow feels like he’s in high school again.

“Hope it’s good things,” Rogers gave him a knowing smirk before catching up with the rest of the S.T.R.I.K.E. team.

Rumlow scoffed under his breath.

Good things don’t happen to people like him.

🥀

After two weeks of silence, you finally cracked and opened the mission file that Rumlow was assigned on. You couldn’t get over your pride to text him yourself - not wanting to come off needy, or demanding, so you did the totally-not-psycho thing and went behind his back.

It seemed like the file was taking years to download. Every second that passed, you found yourself wanting to close the window and just forget about it. You could get laid without his help. You weren’t the type to snoop around and wait for a man. Your finger twitched to click on the “exit window” tab but the file loaded before you could backpedal.

You frowned.

That was odd.

The mission file stated that he made his return 4 days ago - scrolling down, you found that his mission report was turned in 27 hours ago. Your colleague, Cal, must have been the one to process it during your day off.

You felt a familiar icy grip on your heart. Rejection. You could take a hint. Shit happens. It’s not like you two had an agreement. Or anything, for that matter. It was just good sex.

Closing the window, you tried your best to undo the furrow in your brow as Steve Rogers walked in with two steaming cups of coffee and a report tucked underneath his arm.

“Hey there, doll.” He smiled, lighting up the room. Setting your coffee down beside you, he handed you his mission report.

“Hi Steve,” you shyly glanced at the coffee, the scent hitting your senses and you couldn’t stop the smile spreading on your face.

“I’m sorry this report is so tardy,” he said, big hand rubbing the back of his head. You couldn’t help your eyes from wandering, first gazing at his golden locks that were the opposite of Brock’s dark tresses, and then Steve’s crystal blue eyes that presented a fondness that you weren’t sure Brock’s hazel ones could ever hold.

A pang of sadness struck your heart once again. Jesus, you were whipped.

“Is everything okay?” Steve asked, eyebrows knitting with concern.

“Oh - jeez, sorry Steve,” you laughed, realizing that you got so lost thinking about Rumlow that you had never replied.

“I’ve got some things on my mind.”

Steve had the strangest expression then - a flash of knowing - and he smiled with a certain kind of apologetic softness that you were confused by.

“I see,” he said. “I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy your coffee, doll.”

And with that, he turned and made his way out. You deflated. Steve never made a hasty exit with you - normally he’d stay and chat and you both would forget that he was Captain fucking America and instead just a good dude hanging out with a friend. What on earth have you done?

“I hope it’s only good things,” Steve said, before turning the knob on your door. He looked back then, giving you another apologetic, boyish smile, and then promptly walked out and closed the door behind him. Fuck. He knew something.

Oh lord. Bang the hot commander of the S.T.R.I.K.E. team, lose the golden boy. The universe could be cruel. Then again, what did you expect?

And now you weren’t even sure if you were actively banging the man. You sighed, feeling foolish. A few nights of mind-blowing sex has made you weak. Glancing at the coffee, you took a sip, knowing damn well you didn’t deserve it.

Undeserving or not, the coffee was delicious. Damn you, Steve.

It would be another week before you saw Rumlow again. You tried to find another man - even successfully nabbed one at the bar near your apartment, but the sex was as disappointing as you feared it would be. You craved the submissive state that Rumlow could so easily throttle you in. Staring at your empty bed, you couldn’t help but to think that you were right about one thing: it would never feel the same.

You huffed, throwing yourself on your bed. Time for the next best thing.

Reaching under your bed, you found the handle to a hidden drawer. Upon opening it, you were greeted with one of your favorite sex toys - a hot pink Rabbit vibrator.

Alright, you thought. Nobody better to get the job done than you.

Slipping your pants and shirt off, you shuffled the pillows and settled into a comfortable position. Clicking the “on” button, you couldn’t stifle the giddy smile on your face as your core stirred with excitement.

Rubbing the shaft of the toy against your clit gently, you sighed and threw your head back, imagining Rumlow’s thick fingers sliding up and against your slit instead.

Adding more pressure, your toes curled and you let out a mewl of pleasure, remembering what it was like for his stubble to tickle your pussy whenever he went down on you.

You hated how fast you got wet at just the memory of your midnight rendezvous with him, when the man you met last night could barely arouse you.

Clicking the next setting, the vibrations became more powerful. Any second now and you’d be able to slide the toy in and chase an orgasm.

You whimpered, sliding your panties to the side and gingerly lining the head of the toy to the opening of your cunt.

“Well what do we have here?”

You yelped, instantly dropping the toy. Your eyes could hardly believe what you were seeing.

There Rumlow was, in full tactical gear, arms crossed with blown pupils and that signature shit-eating grin.

You swallowed. Your pussy quivered.

“I saw that,” he said, slowly walking over to the bed. He leaned down, placing both hands beside your ankles. You fought the urge to cover up.

“Why don’t you continue for me, honey?”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Picking up the toy, you inserted it with ease and moaned lowly, shutting your eyes and throwing your head back again.

You could hear Brock purr and it made your toes curl into the mattress.

“Look at me,” he demanded.

Your head snapped back up slowly, shyly, and when your eyes met his you felt small.

Fragile. Horny as fuck.

“You’re so wet, honey,” he grabbed one of your ankles and yanked you closer to the edge of the bed. The same hand found it’s way to the back of your head, forcing your forehead to rest against his as his hazel eyes bore into yours. His other hand began pumping the toy slowly into your core.

You moaned and shifted, uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze.

“Were you thinking of me?”

You felt your heart tighten. Caught red-handed.

You nodded.

“Poor little slut,” he cooed. “Can’t get enough of my cock,” he then unzipped his pants and set his fully erect member loose. Turning the toy off and throwing it to a corner of the room, you jumped when it made a concerning clatter against the floor.

“I’m gonna make sure you don’t need shit like that no more,” Brock said in a low, gravelly voice that made your resolve melt. You shook the feeling of being ghosted off and finally spoke.

“Then do it,” you challenged. He smirked devilishly and thrust into you, not giving you any time to adjust.

With that slight twinge of pain paired with the heavenly feeling of being filled, you swore you could cum right then and there.

Rumlow’s pace was relentless, needy, desperate. He forced you to look into his eyes as he drilled into you, large rough hand gripping the back of your neck while the other held your hip in place to stop you from writhing. You found your hands cupping the sides of his face, trying to hold on, enjoying the tickle of his dark hair brushing across the tips of your fingers with every hard thrust.

You’ve never wanted to kiss someone more in your life.

In all these times you’ve had sex with Rumlow, not once did either of you initiate a kiss. Whether that be another unspoken rule to avoid feelings, or the more painful thought of he simply didn’t want to kiss you, you’d never know.

He must have caught your longing glance at his lips because he growled and suddenly his mouth was on yours, stifling your heavy moans. Teeth clashing, it was as messy and rough as the sex but exhilarating all the same. His tongue slid in your mouth and he tastes like fire and smoke.

Brock Rumlow was seeping into you and consuming everything you had while he fucked you. You gasped for breath when he broke the kiss, only to capture your mouth with his again as he thrusted in harder. Hips becoming sloppy, you could tell he was close.

A large hand slipped down in between your legs and a rough thumb began rubbing tight circles around your clit. You cried. It was too much - the kisses, the sound of skin slapping skin, his breath hitting your face and filling your nostrils with his scent.

All you could touch, smell, taste, hear - all of it was Rumlow.

The coil inside you snapped, hard, and you nearly screamed when Rumlow finished with you, cock throbbing hard inside of you as his hot seed filled your cunt. The warmth of his throbbing member and his hot cum made your body feel like a temple - the pleasure he granted you made it feel worshipped.

You struggled to catch your breath as Rumlow claimed your mouth again, this time with a rough bite to the bottom lip. You whimpered.

He pulled out and for the first time, he didn’t lay himself down next to you. He promptly got dressed.

Your crashing disappointment battling the euphoria of the sex was enough to distract you from the fact that he wasn’t dressed in his standard S.H.I.E.L.D. gear. Or, for that matter, the fact that he wasn’t scheduled to go out into the field for the next three days.

You watched him leave with faux acceptance and calmness and choked down the frustrated tears that threatened to spill out. Jesus.

You were so fucked.

Pulling the sheets and comforter over yourself and positioning your back to the door, you didn’t see Rumlow’s last glance. Longing, desperation and a dash of self-hatred made the perfect cocktail in his eyes.

Maybe good things did happen to Rumlow.

But that didn’t mean he deserved them. He turned the door knob and made his silent exit out.

The last thing you remember is a singular tear spilling out and frustration drilling a hole in your chest.

That night you dreamed of Rumlow staying, and softly kissing you while his large hands caressed every inch of your body. Nose bumping yours, there was that fondness that you had seen earlier in Steve’s eyes that was now in Rumlow’s, but it looked different.

It looked haunted. Sad, even.

The next morning when you rose from your dream, willing yourself to ignore the tear stains on your pillow, you made a pact with yourself to end things the next time he came around.

[notcanoncompliant]

I See You

So I finally got the writing bug again. This is pretty much PWP. It’s decent, I hope those of you who are into this stuff are into this fic. lol

Trigger Warnings: blood, implied cannibalism, non-con.

The FBI has been after Anthony Stark, serial killer-slash-mob enforcer, for a long time. Peter, special agent and analyst, dips into places he shouldn’t. There are consequences.

And away we go...

*************************************************

“Good morning, Starshine.”

Peter tries to swallow, his mouth and throat fuzzy from whatever had been used to knock him out, his head stuffed up and aching. 

He opens his eyes, winces at the light. Shuts them. 

His wrists are secured together high above his head, and everything is cold, chilly air on bare skin--bare. God. He’s naked; stuck in stirrups, strapped down. But, aside from the headache and the discomfort of waking up in bindings and completely exposed...he doesn’t hurt.

He lifts his head, forces himself to squint in the light at the figure standing off to the side.

“What did you give me?” he asks, voice thick.

“Standard knock-out cocktail. Painless,” says that familiar voice.

Peter swallows again, drops his head back against the headrest of the chair and shuts his eyes. “Thanks for that, I guess,” he rasps.

A soft, familiar chuckle issues from the right side of the room. He’s too tired to look. 

He drifts in and out for a little while longer in the wobbling in-out of slowly returning consciousness. 

Footsteps click behind him and then further back. A quiet humming lilts through the air, and then the rush of water--a sink--and the sound of something being filled. More footsteps, this time growing closer along with the humming.

Something pokes at his lips, and he opens without thought.

A straw.

He sucks, moans at the cool rush of water down his parched throat.

“Good boy,” the figure says.

Peter shivers involuntarily at the praise, heat curling lazy-sweet in his gut. Danger, a deep part of him whispers. 

He takes another pull of water and then the straw slips from between his lips.

He opens his eyes.

Anthony “Tony” Stark moves away to stand off to the right, setting the glass of water down on the desk and sitting back against the edge. The enforcer looks good; dressed to the nines as he was in every fruitless interrogation video on record, a suit that probably costs as much as Peter’s rent, goatee immaculate, thick salt and pepper hair styled in a casual mess. He watches Peter with a pleasant look on his face that doesn’t match the emptiness of his pitch-dark eyes.

The room is small, an office, maybe. They’re in a warehouse; through the window behind Stark, Peter can see closed bay doors, concrete and metal and beams and silent, unmoving machinery. A quick glance around the immediate room tells Peter there’s no tray of instruments, nothing lined up on the desk. Nothing to do the kind of rip-and-tear damage Peter had seen in any of the crime scene photos. 

“You look confused, Pete,” Stark says. “Were you expecting something?”

“I’m just well-versed in your usual, and this isn’t it,” Peter says. He tugs a little at the bindings around his wrists--leather. Stiff, but exponentially more yielding than the steel cuffs that left cuts and torn skin around the wrists of the bodies in the morgue, in the photos. 

Stark smiles, and cold trickles down Peter’s spine. “You’re a special case.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“You got a little too close, all on your own.” Stark smiles again, looks...proud. “A real go-getter. You’ve got enemies in high places, Petey-pie. Kept poking your nose in all the wrong places.” He shrugs. “Or the right ones, as it were.”

The first unpleasant sensation prickles through whatever it is Stark gave him (definitely not standard knock-out; an unsurprising lie), and his stomach sinks.

Someone did this. Someone sent him right into the jaws of the monster--why ‘jaws’, why do jaws matter--and now he’s going to die in some creative way, some way that doesn’t include scalpels or knives or cattle prods or any of the endless list of horrifyingly inventive tools Anthony Stark has allegedly used to ruin human beings.

That ‘someone’ was probably--most likely--Rumlow, head of the task force and a first-class asshole. He’d warned Peter not to get involved, and Peter hadn’t listened, because...well, because he noticed the inconsistencies in the original ME reports versus what was included in Stark’s official dossier, inconsistencies made all the more suspicious by how tightly the originals were locked down. 

Maybe Peter had ‘noticed’ them when he’d ‘stumbled upon’ the confidential files.

Maybe Rumlow noticed. Maybe someone above Rumlow noticed.

And now Peter’s shoulders ache from how his arms are suspended and there are straps wrapping his thighs and calves, keeping his legs spread in the stirrups of this medical chair.

“What are you going to do to me?”

Stark tuts. “Boring. Try again.”

Peter wets his lips nervously. “Do you take requests?”

“Better.” Stark pushes off from the desk, and comes to stand in front of him. “And no. But you’re free to beg for whatever you want.”

“Boring,” Peter says, a touch breathless, real fear finally beginning to worm its way through. “You know I’ll beg at some point.”

Stark smirks. He walks back to the desk, pulls a rolling stool out from underneath and moves it between Peter’s spread legs, shucks his jacket and tosses it onto the desk. He begins meticulously rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

“Tell me something,” Stark says as he sits down, rolls a little closer. “Why would someone send a pretty little hacker into the jaws of death?”

Peter winces at the phrase, twitches back away from Stark’s nearness before he can catch himself. Too many sensitive parts on display, too close to that shark-like smile.

“Analyst,” Peter corrects inanely. “And I don’t know why you’re asking, why do you ca--fuck, okay,” he gasps, a bolt of pure panic shooting, short and electric, through his limbs at the sudden grip of Stark’s hands high up the backs of his thighs. “Okay. I saw some things and I knew they were wrong and I guess I went to the wrong people.”

“What was wrong?” Stark asks, faux-curious, trailing his thumbs back and forth along the sensitive inner skin of Peter’s thighs. His gaze is dark, flat, fixed on Peter’s eyes instead of all the flesh in front of him, and Peter can’t tell at this point whether that’s a (relatively) good thing.

“They...fudged the ME reports,” Peter says. “Doctored the photos.” He struggles not to squirm when Stark’s hands slide down to his ass. “They…”

Peter freezes. “They know who you are,” he breathes. “They know. They hid the marks because they know, and they…”

“They like to toss me a good meal every now and again,” Stark supplies casually.

That’s why there are no tools. No knives, no blades. Stark’s smile is a weapon, and Peter is beyond fucked. 

Maybe it’s the drugs, maybe it’s just the intensity of the understanding, but Peter can practically see blood between those immaculate teeth, painting Stark’s lips. Can see those teeth cutting, pulling, ripping, tearing, chewing-- 

The grip on his ass tightens, and he lets out a strangled sound when Stark’s eyes drop from his in favor of the places between Peter’s legs.

“They gave you to me for disposal, Mr. Parker,” Stark says, distractedly. “A pretty little troublemaker about to throw a wrench in all their plans.” He leans in, and Peter jerks at the brush of lips against the inside of his right thigh. “I should send them a thank you card.”

Those lips part and teeth scrape Peter’s skin, not nearly hard enough to break through, but roughly enough to startle him into trying, futilely, to pull away.

“I can make it all disappear,” Peter blurts. “I’ll wipe everything. Every file, every scrap of anything that has anything to do with you. I could do it from my phone, right now.”

“Mm. I know you can,” Stark murmurs. He kisses Peter’s thigh again, squeezes his ass. Smirks up at him. “My job isn’t all wetwork. I know all about you, Peter.”

When he leans in toward the center, towards Peter’s most sensitive places, Peter squirms in earnest, leather straps biting into his limbs, across his middle. “No, wait, please--”

And then all he can do is moan, startled and loud, when Stark dips down between Peter’s cheeks and kisses him, open-mouthed, tongue thick and hot and wet, probing at Peter’s hole, alternating between long, dragging sweeps and penetration, slick muscle working its way inside Peter’s body.

“What the fuck,” Peter gasps, yanking downwards, flinching and struggling between the sharp tug at his wrists and the non-stop stimulation of Stark’s mouth. “What the fuck are you--oh, God, stop, you can’t--don’t, please,” he begs, tears springing to his eyes.

It feels good, scary good, his hips arching and bucking to the extent allowed by his bindings, but that all encompassing pleasure is going to stop at some point and turn to unimaginable pain and terror. 

Images flash through his mind--the real photos; missing pieces, torn flesh, the mangled crescents he couldn’t--hadn’t wanted to believe--were bitemarks--

Stark drags his tongue from Peter’s tailbone over his hole and laves attention on Peter’s balls with a loud, satisfied groan.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he growls, grinning up from between Peter’s legs. Peter makes a high sound, a whine, at the sight of those teeth so near his thinnest skin. Stark nuzzles at his sack, sucks one of Peter’s balls into his mouth, rolls it around and releases it, takes in the other for the same treatment.

Still no pain. Still nothing but sparking heat prickling through Peter’s hips, low in his spine, his body aching for more even as tears free themselves and roll down his cheeks. He squeezes his eyes shut and slams his head back against the chair, unwilling to keep looking down at his traitorous cock, jutting up stiff and leaking on his stomach. 

“Please,” Peter says, voice cracking. “Please don’t--” he cuts himself off, bites down on the words. Please don’t hurt me. Please don’t stop.

“Peter,” Stark croons, pressing a soft kiss to the base of Peter’s cock. “Baby. Sweetheart. Light of my life.” Peter flinches and moans, low and frightened, at the press of teeth against his erection, faint, sharp pressure. “Look at me.”

Peter swallows, steels himself, and looks down his body.

“I lied,” Stark whispers conspiratorially, breath washing warm across Peter’s stomach

The fluorescent light flattens everything, brings out the shadows in Stark’s eyes and the faint hollows under his cheekbones, monstrous and hard and beautiful.

“No one sent you to me.”

Peter stares, uncomprehending--unwilling to comprehend. “What?”

Stark smiles, slides his hands around to pet and squeeze the tops of Peter’s thighs. 

“You’re here because I wanted you here. You’re here,” he kisses the tip of Peter’s cock, and to Peter’s shamed arousal, it twitches, a bead of precome leaking and rolling down the shaft, “because you’re better than all of the idiots who believe they have me cornered. My pretty little hacker, my little genius. Scooped up by the Eff. Bee. Eye.”

“Wha--” Peter starts to ask again, numb, but Stark sucks him down.

Down, down, into the hot, tight, pulsing heat of his throat, down to hell and farther, past any hope of return. Lost in the dark, reverent satisfaction of Stark’s gaze, and the stretch of Stark’s lips around his cock.

When the sharp edges of those perfectly straight, perfectly terrible incisors close around the base of his flesh, press in hard enough to hurt, Peter comes with a choked cry, straining against his binds.

Stark sucks and licks him through it, brushes open-mouthed kisses the slick, too-sensitive head until Peter twitches and moans from too much.

When Stark releases him, nuzzling at Peter’s trembling thighs like a lover, murmuring sweet, possessive nothings into his skin…

...Peter might as well have died here, in this warehouse. Lost, consumed. Gone.

“You’re mine, Peter Parker,” Stark says softly, watching him with pleased, victorious heat. “You have been from the moment you cracked the encryption on those reports. You saw me. And I saw you, sweet thing. I see you.” He smiles. “And I’m never giving you back.”

Peter stares down at him, breath slowing as the sweat begins to cool on his body. Slack against the chair, shoulders aching, muscles twitching from exertion, he gives up.

He nods.

*********************************************

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[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 14: Nothing Personal

Summary: Steve confronts Fury about the Lemurian Star mission and the Director reveals just exactly what it is he’s been working on. However, when Fury is later gunned down in Steve’s apartment right in front of the Captain and Katie, the two are forced to run from the very people they’ve called colleagues and friends for years.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! Violence.

A/N: I love this edit from @angrybirdcr​

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 13

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“You just can’t stop yourself from lying, can you?” Steve seethed as he crossed the floor of Fury’s office.

Nick didn’t even need to ask him what he was talking about. Without turning round the Director spoke calmly. “I didn’t lie. Agent Romanoff had a different mission than yours.”

“Which you didn’t feel obliged to share” Steve pressed, raising an eyebrow as the Director spun in his chair to face him.

“I’m not obliged to do anything” Fury replied simply, looking at him.

“Those hostages could’ve died, Nick.” Steve pressed, holding the man’s gaze.

“I sent the greatest soldier in history to make sure that didn’t happen.” Fury stated, and Steve could feel his temper rising even more. He hated the blasé attitude the Director was discussing the issue with, like it was simply something he wasn’t all that bothered about.

“Soldiers trust each other, that’s what makes it an army.” He said after a short pause. “Not a bunch of guys running around and shooting guns.”

He wasn’t expecting the response he got. Fury leaned forward, frowning as he levelled Steve with a look.

“The last time I trusted someone, I lost an eye.” Fury spoke, his tone steely. Steve cocked his head to one side, crossing his arms but maintaining his silence. “Look, I didn’t want you doing anything you weren’t comfortable with. Agent Romanoff is comfortable with everything.”

“I can’t lead a mission when the people I’m leading have missions of their own.” Steve pointed down at Fury’s desk, stressing his point.

“It’s called compartmentalization” Fury eyed him. “Nobody spills the secrets because nobody knows them all.” Steve snorted silently and gestured at Fury. “Except you.” Fury took a deep breath and levelled Steve with a look. “You’re wrong about me. I do share. I’m nice like that.” Steve frowned as Fury stood up and motioned for him to follow.

“Where are we going?” Steve’s frustration was evident on his tone.

“You’ll see.” Fury stepped inside the elevator. Steve followed. “Insight bay.”

A photo of Nick’s SHIELD ID flashed up on the screen, surrounded by a green light. Then Steve noticed his, but the light was red as the SHIELD computer spoke. “Captain Rogers does not have clearance for Project Insight.”

“Director override, Fury, Nicholas J.” Fury spoke, without missing a beat.

“Confirmed.”

The elevator started to moved downwards. Steve leaned against the rail which ran round the middle of the glass box and clasped his hands in front of him by his belt. Despite his initial annoyance, he had found himself beginning to understand what the Director was saying. SHIELD had so many secrets, many a matter of national security. It made no sense for everyone to know everything, it was a security risk, he got that. But it still irked him.

“You know, they used to play music.” Steve said, his tone softer as he broke the silence, making a joke at his own expense.

“Yeah. My grandfather operated one of these things for forty years.” Fury mused, somewhat nostalgic. “My granddad worked in a nice building, he got good tips. He’d walk home every night, roll of ones stuffed in his lunch bag. He’d say ‘hi’, people would say hi back. Time went on, neighbourhood got rougher. He’d say ‘hi’ they’d say, ‘Keep on steppin’. Granddad got to grippin’ that lunch bag a little tighter.”

The flash into Fury’s personal life surprised Steve somewhat. He cocked his head to one side and looked at the man. “Did he ever get mugged?”

“Every week some punk would say, “What’s in the bag?”

“What did he do?”

“He’d show ‘em. Bunch of crumpled ones and loaded point twenty-two Magnum.” Fury smirked “Granddad loved people. But he didn’t trust them very much.”

Steve had to smirk slightly, thinking that Fury sounded a hell of a lot like his grandpa. He looked down for a second, and when he looked up he was aware that they had now travelled down the side of the Triskellion and were descending further, underground even. As Steve looked around he realised he was in some sort of below building hangar, and he looked out of the glass, spotting three giant Helicarriers. His mouth fell open in surprise, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah, I know. They’re a little bit bigger than a point twenty-two.” Fury remarked.

Eventually the elevator stopped and Fury stepped out, Steve hot on his tail as he watched people bustling around the hangar shouting, carrying things, fixing things. The helicarriers were bigger than the one they’d used during the Chitauri invasion, each being able to house at least twenty Quinjets.

“This is Project Insight.” Fury explained as he led Steve across the floor of the hangar. “Three next generation Helicarriers synced to a network of targeting satellites.”

And then Steve understood. “Launched from the Lemurian Star.”

“Once we get them in the air they never need to come down. Continuous suborbital flight courtesy of our new repulsor engines.” Fury stopped underneath one.

“Stark?” Steve asked, frowning.

“Well, he had a few suggestions once he got an up close look at our old turbines.” Fury nodded, as they continued. “But don’t worry, that’s not something Nova is keeping from you.”

“I wasn’t” Steve said honestly, as he looked up and around the hangar. “I trust my girl.”

Fury looked at him before he turned his attention back to the matter in hand and pointed up again “These new long range precision guns can eliminate a thousand hostiles a minute. The satellites can read a terrorist’s DNA before he steps outside his spidy hole. We gonna neutralize a lot of threats before they even happen.”

Steve crossed his arms. “I thought the punishment usually came after the crime.”

“We can’t afford to wait that long.”

Steve could feel the nerve twitching in his jaw. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“After New York, I convinced the World Security Council we needed a quantum surge in threat analysis. For once we’re way ahead of the curve”

“By holding a gun at everyone on Earth and calling it protection?” Steve looked at the director, frowning. He didn’t like this. It smacked of something HYDRA would do.

Fury picked up on his tone and he looked at Steve, arching an eyebrow. “You know, I read those SSR files. Greatest generation? You guys did some nasty stuff.”

Don’t I know it? Steve thought to himself as he took a deep breath. “Yeah, we compromised. Sometimes in ways that made us not sleep so well. But we did it so the people could be free.” He turned and pointed at the helicarriers before looking at Fury “This isn’t freedom, this is fear.”

“SHIELD takes the world as it is, not as we’d like it to be.” Fury stated simply. “It’s getting damn near past time for you to get with that program, Cap”

Steve shook his head. “Don’t hold your breath.” And with that he left.

He changed quickly, eager to put as much distance between him and SHIELD as possible for the rest of the day. After a short conversation with Rumlow about a mission report, he was on his bike and heading for Katie’s apartment, his mind whirling. What was Fury playing at? This wasn’t what he signed up for, at all. It felt so far removed from what he had joined the army to do, to keep people safe, free. Had he really changed that much? He felt a sudden pang for his Howling Commandoes, for Bucky, for Peggy, for Colonel Philips, for all those damned missions which had been simple- destroy HYDRA before they destroyed you.

Despite the fact he had woken up that morning and felt so happy with his girl being there, he couldn’t help but wish life was as simple as it had been back then.

*****

Katie’s morning had been far more productive. She had looked at a couple of transcript extracts her editor had selected. She had to admit, the guy had a good eye for a future blockbuster, and this one she particularly liked. After discussions, they settled on an initial run of two hundred hard copy of the books to be sold online, along with a downloadable kindle version, and if they went they would review how many more we needed.

Pleased with her mornings work and having cleared her diary for the afternoon, she had lunch in the kitchen and had just finished when she heard the elevator door open. She headed into the main area of her apartment to greet Steve, taking a deep breath as she noticed how drained he looked.

“Dare I ask how it went?”

His response was a sigh as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug, simply wanting to feel her close.

“That good huh?” She squeezed him back gently before she pulled away and headed towards the kitchen, him following behind her.

“Debrief was fine. Fury, however, went on about compartmentalisation, the usual crap.” Steve sighed, running his hand over his face, smiling softly to himself when he saw she was gathering stuff out of the fridge to make him a sandwich “And then shared something I really wish he hadn’t.”

“Like what?” she asked, throwing some turkey and mayo onto a sub. “Ever heard of Operation Insight?” Steve looked at her, even though he knew the answer. There’s no way she would have and not told him.

“No?” She handed him the plate containing his sandwich.

“Well apparently your brother has. Thanks.” He took the plate from her sat at the breakfast bar taking a bite of his food. He swallowed and then continued “Three huge hellicarriers that are basically designed to go up in the air and never come down based on Tony’s arc reactor tech. Programmed to monitor potential threats and wipe them out before they get chance to do anything.” She frowned, settling on the stool next to him. “And Fury has sanctioned this?”

Steve nodded, taking another bite of his food. “I don’t like it. Like I said to him, punishment normally comes after the crime.”

Katie could see he was really struggling with this and that his faith in SHIELD was running very, very thin. A lot of what the Agency did was political, not just about keeping people safe. She’d tried to explain that the lines were a lot more blurred than back in the 40s, but still had to admit she was kind of with him. As she pondered for a moment, Steve could see the cogs whirring in her brain, the slight v shape crease that always formed in the middle of her eyes when she was thinking was present. Steve didn’t blame her, it had thrown him too and he’d had the full explanation. The hangar had been huge, and there were enough people in there to make him realise that a LOT of people knew about it. What he didn’t know was who on his immediate team knew about it.

“I just wanna know who I can trust” He sighed, looking at Katie as she reached out gently, touching his cheek.

“I know, Soldier.” she said, softly before she shook her head. “Okay, no more talk about SHIELD or hellicarriers, or whatever.” She moved to pick up her soda. “What do you want to for the rest of the afternoon?”

Steve wanted to go to the Smithsonian. He’d been thinking about it since they had emailed him to invite him to open the exhibit on him, which he had politely declined. But he was curious to see what it was like, curious and also eager, after today, to be reminded of a time when he worked with people he knew inside out, people that he would trust with his life. And he was keen to share that with his girl, the woman who had months ago before they even started dating, been the one to help him pick what the museum would display.

“You know, we’ve still not been to the Smithsonian since they opened the exhibit.” He shruged, hoping his tone was casual enough to make it sound like he hadn’t been thinking about it enough. He failed though, smiling as Katie looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

Busted.

“Call it curiosity.” He shrugged.

“You know what curiosity did don’t you?” Katie quipped back, her eyes flashing playfully.

“What?”

She grinned as she delivered the punchline “Killed the Cap.”

*****

“A symbol to the nation. A hero to the world. The story of Captain America is one of honour, bravery and sacrifice,” the narrator at the Smithsonian museum said as we entered the exhibit.

Steve paused to pull the collar of his blue jacket up a little further, a gesture that, along with the cap that was pulled down over his face, he hoped would prevent him from being recognised as they made their way to the start of the pieces.

"Denied enlistment due to poor health, Steven Rogers was chosen for a program unique in the annals of American warfare. One that would transform him into the world’s first super soldier,” the Narrator continued. Steve paused to look at the display to his right when Katie gently nudged him.

“Think you’ve been rumbled.”

Steve looked down at her, and then followed her gaze as she looked to her left at a small boy dressed in a light blue T-shirt adorned with the design of his shield who was watching the pair of them, his eyes growing wide. Steve smiled, put a finger against his mouth to indicate for him to keep quiet. The boy nodded and then turned, running back off to find his mum.

Without speaking Steve took her hand and led her over to the part of the exhibit that had an older looking motorcycle on a platform and some black and white footage playing beside it. The footage was of him in his older Captain America uniform, also currently on display, running through a battlefield.

“In this rare footage, everyone’s favourite war hero, Captain America…”

He didn’t stop to hear the rest, he could remember that mission by heart. It had been on the outskirts of Toulouse, liberating another HYDRA prison camp. Katie allowed herself to be led by him, this was his moment after all. They slowly walked to a display of mannequins dressed in his original suit, plus those of the Howling Commandos, which had been donated by their families. His eyes lingered on Bucky’s for a second and he took a deep breath.

“Battle tested, Captain America and his Howling Commandos quickly earned their stripes. Their mission, taking down HYDRA, the Nazi rogue science division,”

Katie looked at the uniforms, a smile on her face. She had only seen photos of Steve’s war suit, never seen it in person and it intrigued her. More so because this was something that her dad had made, something physical he had touched. She felt a tug on her hand again, and she looked up to see that she was being led to a section dedicated to Bucky. The familiar (albeit again, only from photos), handsome face of his best friend looked back at them as they wandered over to read what it said in more detail.

“Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were inseparable on both school yard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country…”

The narration didn’t cover half the text on the black, glass screen and in Katie’s opinion it wasn’t a particularly good tribute to a man who had lost his life in such tragic circumstances. She read the rest of the text as Steve’s eyes skated over it, reading, despite the fact he knew it all. He wished he could have saved him, he really did. He’d loved him to have been able to meet Katie. But then, he wouldn’t have anyway. As he would have most likely been dead now. Or what’s to say things may or may not have ended up differently. Would Buck have been on the Valkyrie with him?

He watched the black and white footage playing, where the two of them were talking and then laughing about something and he felt the sadness hit his chest again. And as if she sensed it too, Katie gripped his hand a little bit tighter and lay her head against his arm, her weight giving him something to anchor himself too, and he was grateful for it.

They carried on walking and then they found there was a small cinema area a bit further round the corner playing footage and interviews. Steve paused for a second and then looked at Katie, the question stayed silent. She nodded and together they walked in, taking a seat on one of the benches. There was a bit of introduction footage, and then a familiar face appeared on the screen.

Besides him Katie took a deep breath and whispered a single word “Dad…” and he automatically dropped a hand to her knee, where she placed hers on top of his as the two of them watched her father an animatedly talking to the camera.

“Rogers was different” Howard spoke, smiling, the caption on the screen telling him the footage had been filmed in 1953. “He was constantly striving to do the right thing, with no fear or care for how it would affect him. He, err, when we dropped him behind enemy lines we had no idea if we would see him again. I narrowly escaped myself, the machine guns nearly took our aircraft down but without thought to how he would get back, he told us to leave him behind. When they declared him missing in action the entire company was devastated but, lo and behold… well they can’t keep a good man down.”  Howard paused and then looked down and back up at the camera “I can only hope that if I’m graced with Children, they grow up to be half as driven as he was to do the right thing…”

As Katie looked down at her feet, a stray tear fell down her cheek. Seeing her dad there like that was raw. She knew that Tony felt the loss of their parents far more than she did, she had only been seven after all when they had died and Tony had been her father, if you will, for far longer than her actual dad had. But still, seeing him in front of her so candidly, talking about his hopes for his future children, made something in her chest tighten and she couldn’t help but feel sadness at the fact she never got the chance to really know him. Steve gently squeezed her knee, but then as they looked back up at the screen it was his turn to still as someone he recognised extremely well, her face painted into his memory for life, entered the screen and began speaking, also in 1953. 

"That was a difficult winter. A blizzard had trapped half our battalion behind the German line. Steve, Captain Rogers, he fought his way through a HYDRA blockade that had pinned our allies down for months.” Peggy Carter stumbled slightly through the interview. “He saved over a thousand men, including the man who would become my husband as it turned out. Even after he died, Steve was still changing my life,” And despite the fact that she smiles slightly at the end of this line, it’s clear to see that talking about Steve affected her a lot.

Katie leaned against him and with a breath he lay his head on top of hers. “We haven’t seen her for a while…” she whispered as the video finished. “Shall we go on the way home?” He gave a soft chuckle and dropped a kiss to the crown of her head.

“You read my mind.”

*******

Peggy was pleased to see them, as always when she was having a good day. They both greeted her and after a few pleasantries they told her about their trip to the Smithsonian. Peggy smiled, informing them that she remembered the interview, like it was yesterday, apparently the man interviewing her had been an “utter rogue”, but she didn’t elaborate on what that meant further than saying he was worse than Barnes, which made Steve laugh.  They chatted a little about her time as Director at SHIELD before she trailed off with a sigh as she noticed that Steve was uncharacteristically quiet. After a little gentle coaxing from her and Katie he told her what was on his mind.

“My whole life I’ve just wanted to do what was right, I guess I’m not sure what that is anymore.” He paused for a moment, thinking of how to voice his worries about SHIELD “And I thought I could just throw myself back in and follow orders, it’s just not the same.”

Peggy chuckled as she rolled her eyes and looked at Katie. “He’s always so dramatic.”

Katie let out a small laugh, nodding her agreement. “Tell me about it!”

Steve shook his head, a smile on his face as he raised his eyebrows slightly and looked away as Peggy continued to speak.

“Look you saved the world, we rather mucked it up.”

“No you didn’t. You know, knowing that you helped found SHIELD is half the reason I stay.”

“And the other half being?” Her eyes strayed to Katie who smiled, looking down and then up at Steve as he caught her eye, his hand resting on her knee.

“I quit remember?” Katie reminded her.

Peggy smiled “Indeed, a woman with principles. That I can get on board with. ”Katie gave a little smile as Peggy continued. “Look, the world has changed and none of us can go back.” She spoke softly. “All we can do is our best, and sometimes the best that we can do is to start over.“

At that she started to cough. Steve quickly picked up a glass of water from the table and rounded the back of the chair Katie was sitting in to try and hand her the glass. 

"Peg?” He held the glass out as her coughing subsided and she took a sip. Once she had finished she looked up and stared at Steve as if she was seeing a ghost

“Steve?” Peggy breathed out in an amazed yet broken voice.

“Yeah,” Steve whispered, his heart sinking as he recognised the look in her face. Her memory had gone, again.

“You’re alive! You, you came, you came back,” Peggy whimpered. Tears were gathering in her eyes at this point as she tried to hold them back and Steve was struggling to do the same with his own. One of the smartest, nicest, bravest women he had ever met was being betrayed by an illness that was literally rotting her brain. It was cruel, and every time she did this, they went through the same routine.

“Yeah, Peggy.” Steve responded forcing a smile onto his face as Katie squeezed his hand gently, standing up so he could take the chair next to Peggy.

“It’s been so long. So long,” Peggy started to cry, giving up on holding back her tears.

“I’ll leave you with her.” Katie spoke softly as she gently touched Steve’s shoulder. His hand briefly reached up to lay over hers before he leaned over to take Peggy’s.

“Well, I couldn’t leave you.” He forced himself to smile. “Not when you still owe me a dance.”

Normally that calmed the old lady down, but not today. She was becoming more and more confused and in the end he had to press the call button.

“Again?” The nurse who attended asked softly, and Steve simply nodded.

“I’ll fetch the doctor.”

Outside Katie took a deep breath and headed towards her car. Ex partners could always be an issue in relationships but this was something else, something completely different. She opened the passenger side to the car and sat side on in the seat, door open, legs dangling out. She felt sorry for Peggy, she really did, and her heart ached for Steve. It can’t be easy seeing the woman he once loved, and probably still did in some way, fading like that in front of your eyes.

She ran her hand over her face, rubbing at her eyes slightly and waited as she watched various people coming and going out of the main doors of the hospital. It wasn’t that long before a familiar figure appeared, a flash of white T-shirt standing out against his dark navy jacket and equally dark jeans as he walked towards her, hands in his pockets. She stood up, not saying a word as she wrapped her arms around him and he buried his face into the nook of her shoulder and neck, his safe place, his hands gently resting on her hips as he breathed out a sigh.

“Is she okay?” she asked gently. “Yeah they sedated her.” He said as he pulled away.

“I’m so sorry Steve.”

“What for?” “Peggy…it’s so unfair.” “Yeah…” He replied simply. And it was. He wished things could be different, that Peggy wasn’t ill. That she could be home, with her family, living out the last years of her life with the dignity she had lived the rest of it. She deserved more. He looked over the car roof across the street and watched for a second, everyone milling about their business, getting on with their lives. Like he was, and whilst he wished things had been different for Peggy, he suddenly found himself thinking and wondering if he would change anything if he could.

He felt Katie still in front of him, reacting to the fact he himself had changed posture, and as he looked down at her he was suddenly struck with the answer to his question. Despite everything, despite his sudden feelings of nostalgia sparked by the events of the last twenty hours or so, no he wouldn’t. Because whatever had happened, every action, every decision, it had led him to the girl now in his arms, and he loved her so fucking much it hurt. Yeah he had loved Peggy, he still did in some ways, but it was nothing compared to this. Nothing.

He reached out and took Katie’s hands, pulling up her arms so they were round his neck, pulling her closer to him as his own hands joined at the bottom of her back

“I love you.” He said gently, needing her to understand, to believe him. “My best girl.”

“I hope I’m your only girl, Rogers.”  She sassed back with a sniff, and he smiled softly, happy that she understood.

“How about we head back to mine and not leave the flat for the entire day tomorrow?” Steve looked down at her, the idea suddenly coming to him and her face lit up. Katie loved lazy days. It was rare Steve was in the mood for them, his incessant energy normally meant he had to be doing something. But on the odd time he agreed, it usually involved them staying in bed till about midday, then watching old movies on the TV under a blanket on the couch, maybe a bit of fooling around and then calling a take out before retreating back to bed. Right now that sounded like a damned fine idea. “Can you clear your diary?”

“Consider it cleared.”

“I just wanna make one quick stop on the way home” He suggested, his journey of contemplation was leading him to one more place. He glanced at his watch before planting a kiss on her lips as she looked at him questioningly. “Thought we could pay our jogging friend a visit.”

********

“Look who it is. The running man and his pretty girl.” Sam joked slightly as he came over to the doorway where Katie and Steve were stood.

“Hey.” Katie smiled as he dropped a kiss onto her cheek.

“Caught the last few minutes. It’s pretty intense,” Steve commented as Sam shook his hand.

“Yeah, brother, we all got the same problems. Guilt, regret,” Sam shrugged.  As his sentence went on his voice got more serious and softer.

“Have you lost someone?” Steve asked, perceptive as ever. Katie mentally cursed herself for not filling him in fully, but Sam didn’t seem too bothered to talk about it. He nodded gently.

“My wingman, Riley. Fly in the night mission. A standard PJ rescue op, nothing we hadn’t done a thousand times before, till an RPG knock Riley’s dumb ass out of the sky. Nothing I could do. It’s like I was up there just to watch,” Sam paused to cross his arms over his chest, his posture slightly tense. “After that, I had really hard time finding a reason for being over there, you know?”

“But you’re happy now, back in the world?” Steve asked

“Hey, the number of people giving me orders is down to about zero. So, hell, yeah,” Sam joked, loosening up slightly, before getting a bit serious, “You thinking about getting out?”

“No.” Steve replied quickly before he took a breath. “I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t know what I would do with myself if I did.”

“Ultimate fighting?” Sam shrugged and Steve laughed as Katie snorted.  “It’s just a great idea off the top of my head. But seriously, you could do whatever you want to do. What makes you happy?”

Steve turned his head to look at Katie, an unconscious movement, smiling gently as he shrugged. “I dunno…”

“Oh I think you do.” Sam said, smirking slightly as Steve placed his hand on the small of his girl’s back.

“Oh, stop by the front desk on your way out,” Katie turned to Sam, smirking, and he raised an eyebrow in question,

“We asked for you by name.” Steve clarified.

“She seemed thoroughly impressed.” Katie finished. Both of Sam’s eyebrows rose at that and he looked down the hallway towards where the front desk was.

“You two are the best.” A smile stretching across his face as he began to turn to head down the hall. “Stop by anytime.”

“No problem.” Steve grinned in amusement as Sam jogged his way down the hall.

It was gone eight by the time they got home, having made a pit stop for a beer on the way. Steve held the door open for Katie, and she stepped into the apartment building and started to climb the stairs in front of him, giving him a quite pleasing view of her ass as her hips swayed side to side in front of him.

“Sam’s right you know.” She continued their discussion from the bar. “And so is Peggy.”

“What about?”

“If you wanted to get out you could do, start over.”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I want, but spending the rest of my life playing janitor for Fury is not it.”

“I can write you a resignation note.” She grinned and Steve chuckled slightly and then took a deep breath.

“You know, it’s funny when I think about it. Us, stuff, what we’ve done and how far we’ve come in a year.”

“You’re saying it like it’s a bad thing.” She teased as she stepped onto his landing.

“No, that’s not what I mean at all.”  He took a deep breath as she headed towards his door and turned to face him “You know, I’ve never really talked to anyone or shown them about my past in detail or introduced anyone to Peggy bar you.”

“Well I am your girlfriend.” She shrugged, holding onto the hand that wasn’t digging into his jeans pocket to fish out his keys.  “Your best girl.” At that he smiled. “So you should be able to talk to me about anything.”

“I know, I’m not explaining myself very well.”  He remarked, finally succeeding in obtaining his keys. And he wasn’t. He was trying to tell her that he couldn’t imagine his life without her, that he wanted her to share his everything, including his home.

“Spit it out Rogers.” She teased as he slid the key into the lock.

He took a deep breath. “Coming home last night and you being there…and then this morning…it was perfect, Doll, and I want that all the time.” He turned to face her leaving his key hanging from the door. “How would you feel about us maybe moving in together?”

She paused for a moment, looking at him, realising he was deadly serious. She raised her eyebrow.

“I thought you came from a time where man and woman didn’t live together until they were married?”

“We could get married if you want.” He blurted out. That made Katie raise both eyebrows as she studied him again, her mouth dropping into a small ‘o’. Steve looked back at her, trying to keep his face passive, as if it had been a joke, even though he knew it wasn’t. He’d known for months she was the one.

But to blurt it out like that? Outside his apartment door, in such a dumbass way?

Way to go, Rogers.

Katie cocked her head to one side, there was a funny look on Steve’s face that she couldn’t place. But whatever it was, even if Steve was serious about them getting married, she knew him well enough to understand that was not how he would want to propose, and that he was probably kicking himself about stumbling it out the way he had done. So she broke the nervous tension, as she always did, with a slight joke.

“You know, that’s not much of a proposal.” She slid her arms up around his neck. “But its one step up from you’d make a great housewife, I suppose.”

“Should I try again?” A cheeky grin spread across his face, glad the tone was playful, his arms circling her waist “Yeah, with a big, fuck off Tiffany diamond.”

“I didn’t think you were so materialistic?”

“Well, you know what they say? Diamonds are a girls’ best friend.”

“And there I was, thinking it was me.” He muttered, his lips pressing onto hers.

“That’s so sweet!” A voice interrupted and they both turned to look at Kate, his neighbour from over the hall. For a split second Steve thought she was talking to them but it soon became apparent she was on the phone. “That’s so nice…but hey, I gotta go…okay bye…”

She dropped the phone into the basket of laundry she was carrying before grinning at us both “My aunt, she’s kind of an insomniac”

Steve smile before looking at the basket of washing in her arms as he dropped his arm round Katie’s shoulder “you know if you want…if you want, you can use my machine. Might be easier and cheaper than the one in the basement.” “Thank you, but I already have a load in downstairs actually, and you really don’t want my scrubs in your machine.” She grinned. “I just finished a rotation on the infectious diseases ward, so,”

“Ah, well, we’ll keep our distance,” Steve grinned, holding his hands up, palms out.

“Hopefully not too far.” She chuckled. “Don’t want to lose my best neighbour. Okay, well I better be off.” She turned to go before she stopped and spun back round to look at Steve. “Oh, by the way, I think you left your stereo on.”

“Right, thank you.” Steve watched her go, frowning. He looked at Katie as they both pressed their ears to the door. The record player was certainly on but…

“We definitely didn’t leave that on before.”  Katie looked at him, as the gentle tones of Kitty Kallen Long Long Time hit their ears.

Steve held his finger up to his lips and gestured to the window, before leaving Katie where he was. He ran off, down the stairs as fast as he could and then he scaled the gate on the fire escape easily. Once he reached the steps which were parallel to his window he took a running jump, easily pulling himself up over the sill and into the kitchen area. Quickly and quietly he moved along the wall, picking up his shield which was leaning against the shelving unit. Holding it up, he cautiously peered round the corner of the room into the living area and instantly relaxed when he saw Fury lounging in a chair.

“I don’t remember giving you a key.” He said, somewhat sardonically.

“What, you really think I’d need one?” Nick replied. Steve shook his head and headed to the front door of the flat, pulling it open.

“Fury.” He said with a roll of his eyes, turning and walking back into the apartment.

“Huh?” Katie asked as she followed him into the living room, where the music was coming from, to see Fury sitting on the couch in the dark.

“What are you doing here?” She demanded.

"Nice to see you too, Nova. And in answer to your question my wife kicked me out.”

“I didn’t know you were married,” She continued, frowning. And she didn’t. And she wasn’t sure that he was.

“There are a lot of things you don’t about me,” Fury replied casually.

“I know, Nick. That’s the problem,” Steve grumbled walking forward as Katie remained where she was, eyes narrowed at her old boss. Steve flipped on the light switch, instantly recoiling in surprise when he noticed Fury’s injuries. Besides him Katie gasped slightly and moved to get closer to help but Fury indicated for her to stop and the both of them to stay quiet. He turned off the light again and typed something on his phone.

'EARS EVERYWHERE’.

Bugs? His apartment was bugged? By who? They both exchanged a glance and instantly Katie looked up and around the room, as if she expected to see a microphone glaring at them.

“I’m sorry to have to do this but I had nowhere else to crash,” Fury looked around a bit before he typed something else up on his phone:

'SHIELD COMPROMISED’.

Steve and Katie shared another glance, the pair of them wide eyed. This was bad.

“Who else knows about your wife?” Steve asked, keeping his voice even.

Fury showed them another text;

'YOU TWO AND ME’.

“Just my friends,” Fury grunted in pain while getting up and walking closer to them.

“Is that what we are?” Katie blinked at him. She still hadn’t completely forgiven the man for lying to them all about Coulson. 

“That’s up to you.” Fury replied, his eyes darting from Katie to Steve.

Then out of nowhere came a rapid succession of gunshots. Steve quickly pushed Katie out of the way, the pair of them taking cover behind the kitchen wall as Fury groaned before he collapsed down to the floor. Steve scooted forward, keeping as low as he could, pulling him into the kitchen. Katie knelt next to him and tried to check his injuries through his black clothing when he reached up and handed something to Steve.

“Don’t, trust anyone,” he coughed before passing out.  Katie and Steve both looked at what he had been handed and saw that it was a flash drive. Steve curled his hand around it and looked at Katie, but before either of them could say anything else there was the sound of someone breaking into the apartment. Steve quickly moved into a defensive position, in front of Katie and Fury, raising his shield.

“Captain Rogers?” a familiar voice suddenly called out and they watched as Kate, his neighbour, cautiously walked in with a gun pointed. “I’m Agent Thirteen of SHIELD’s Special Service.”

“Kate?” Steve frowned, shaking his head. He’d just about had his fill of surprises.

“I’m assigned to protect you.” She continued

“On whose orders?” Katie snapped.

Kate stopped as she spotted Fury lying on the floor. “His,” she dropped besides Katie, checking Fury for a pulse and then spoke into her radio

“Foxtrot is down, he’s unresponsive. I need EMTs.”

“Do you have a twenty on the shooter?” A SHIELD agent questioned through the radio.

Then there was a movement on the other side of the window, on the roof adjacent to the building.  Steve instantly glanced up and saw a flash of silver and the shadow of a figure running across the rooftop.

“Tell them I’m in pursuit.” He said and with that he took a running jump and smashed straight through his window, and through into the office building opposite. Steve ran, keeping his eye on the man, smashing through walls, windows, anything in his way. Eventually he caught up with him on the roof and flung his shield at the assassin who, to Steve’s shock, caught it with one swift move in the hand of his metal arm. There was a pause as Steve could do nothing but eye the man with surprise before the shield came flying back. Steve caught it, with both hands on its rim but the force pushed him back a few yards along the gravel surface of the roof. By the time he had stopped the momentum moving him, the assassin had jumped. Steve ran to the edge of the building and looked down.

He was gone.

*****

“What happened?” Hill asked as they all looked through the glass window at the hustle and bustle of the operating room. Steve moved his arm from around Katie and took her hand in his, squeezing her fingers gently.

"He was at my apartment when we got home.” Steve started. “I hadn’t even had chance to ask why when there were two blasts, then another. Someone shot him through the window- three times. I tried to go after the shooter, but I lost him on the roof of the building across the street.”

Steve had no doubt in his mind that if there was anyone else in SHIELD they could trust right now it was Hill, but both he and Katie kept quiet. He had taken Fury’s warning of trusting nobody seriously and had told Katie as much as they had strode through the ED of the hospital. Both were aware that Hill was studying them, side on, her face stony.

“What aren’t you telling me?” She asked quietly.

“Nothing.” Katie answered for them.

Before Hill could drill either of them anymore, the door to the observation room flung open and heavy footsteps crossed the room, stopping at the other side of Katie.

“Is he gonna make it?” Natasha asked, almost inaudibly, staring through the window.

“We don’t know,” Hill mumbled.

“Tell me about the shooter,” Natasha whispered

“He’s fast and strong. And he had a metal arm,” Steve said, letting go of Katie’s hand to fold his arms across his chest and as he did, they both caught the look of recognition and slight fear on Natasha’s face reflected in the window.

“Ballistics?” She swallowed heavily.

“Three slugs. No rifling and completely untraceable,” Maria answered softly.

“Soviet made?”

“Yeah,” Maria looked at Natasha in shock. Steve turned to face her, as did Katie, but she didn’t look back. She stared straight through to the operating theatre but before Katie could ask what it was that she wasn’t saying, the operation room went into overdrive. Machines started beeping erratically, the doctors and nurses were rushing around the room and the panic was palpable even behind the glass. But they couldn’t save him.

“Time of death, 1:03 A.M.”

A few moments passed as the four of them stood completely in shock. Katie reached up to wipe a tear that had trickled down her cheek away, before Natasha turned and almost sprinted out of the room.

Steve pulled his hand out of his pocket, turning the flash drive that Nick had given him over in his hand. Nick had been killed because he knew whatever it was that was on that drive. What could possibly be so bad, so secret, so dangerous that the Director of SHIELD was deemed a threat for knowing? He glanced up at Katie who was watching him, tears in her eyes. She might have had her issues with Fury, but he was a good man and would never have wished him dead. With a sigh Steve placed the item back into his pocket and pulled her in for a hug.

******

A little later, they were all in the same room as Nick’s body. Natasha was by him, hardly having moved a muscle, almost like she was in shock. And it unnerved Katie. Nat wasn’t one to really show emotion but then again, Fury had meant a lot to her. The door opened and a doctor entered, speaking to Hill. She nodded and then walked over to Katie and Steve, coughing to clear her throat.

“They need to take him.” She said, her voice cracking slightly. Steve nodded and stepped forwards.

“Nat. Natasha…” But at that she turned away from them all and made her way quickly into the corridor of the Hospital. Katie and Steve looked at one another, before they hastily followed her.

“Why was Fury in your apartment?” Natasha span around to ask Steve. Her eyes were filled with sadness, but Katie could also see suspicion etched on her pretty features.

“I don’t know,” Steve sighed shrugging his shoulders, and before the conversation could go on further they were interrupted by Rumlow.

“Cap, they want you back at Shield,” He informed them, gently touching Katie’s shoulder. “You too Nova.”

“Alright, give us a second,” Steve nodded dismissing Rumlow, perhaps a little more harshly than he intended, as he turned back to Natasha but Rumlow was insistent

“They want you now,”

“Alright” Katie spoke firmly but calmly. Rumlow nodded and then moved back down the hallway.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Natasha shook her head at Steve with her trademark smirk that didn’t reach her eyes before she turned and left.

“What the hell is on that drive?” Katie asked Steve after a moment of silence.

“I don’t know, but it’s what Natasha was saving data to on our mission the other day.” He replied before he looked up staring very focused into a vending machine to his right, which was open as a janitor filled it up. He didn’t want to take the drive back to the Triskellion, just in case. He knew that something wasn’t quite right.

Katie caught his eye before glancing around the hallway that was mostly full of SHIELD agents, luckily they were all congregated on the other end.

“Do it.” She nodded, figuring out his intention to hide the item “I’ll distract them.”

Without another look back at him, she began to stride forwards towards Rumlow.

“Its almost four am.” she glanced at her watch. “What do they want us for Brock? We already told Sitwell what we know and I don’t work for SHIELD anymore, remember?”

Rumlow shrugged “Honestly, I don’t know Nova. I’m just under instructions to get you both back to base.”

At that point Steve reached them, but he wasn’t stopping. Taking Katie’s hand he nodded to the STRIKE leader

“Let’s go.”

“Yeah,” Rumlow fell into step with them, fixing his earpiece. “Strike! Move it out.”

Steve drove to the Triskellion, Katie’s car flanked by the Armoured SUVs as they sped through the streets of DC. Katie dozed off for ten minutes and Steve let her sleep, lost in his own thoughts. He had expected her to be called in alongside him, especially after she had been, along with him, the last people Fury had spoken to him before he died. But he wasn’t happy about it, he wanted her as far away from whatever the hell was going on as possible. Once they arrived he gently shook her awake and the two of them were given an hour or so to grab something to eat. Neither were hungry, but they forced down their sandwiches, Katie’s brain working in overdrive as she did so. Something was nagging at her, and she was trying to make the connections, figure it out, but her head simply kept replaying Fury getting shot over and over.

“Foxtrot is down, he’s unresponsive. I need EMTs.”

“Do you have a twenty on the shooter?”

She frowned.

“What is?” Steve asked, coffee in his hand as he sat back on one of the large chairs in one of the common rooms by the kitchen area.

“Before…when Kate…Agent thirteen, whatever the hell her name is called back to base…she said Fury was down and needed EMTs…”

She paused and Steve waited, knowing how her analytical brain worked. She had to follow threads, talk them over or write them out, letting them weave together as she did. A look of comprehension crossed her face as the threads connected.

“Sitwell…” She whispered.

“What about him?” Steve asked. “He was the one that replied, at least it sounded like him.” She bit her lip, but not in the seductive way that made his crotch twitch, the way she did when she was thinking “And he asked…do you have a twenty on the shooter.”

Steve frowned, not quite sure where this was going. “Okay…”  “Well, how did he know Fury had been shot? How could anyone know he had been shot?”

Now he understood. He understood completely. Damned it she was clever. “They couldn’t.” He sat up and leaned towards her, his voice dropping. “Not unless they were there or Kate…whoever, told them.”

“And she didn’t. She just said he was down and unresponsive.” “Which means…” Steve began, but Katie finished for him. “Sitwell knew about the hit. Because he was in on it.”

The both looked at one another, their faces wearing similar looks of shock. Fury was right, SHIELD was compromised. But how far, they had no idea.

Before Steve had chance to say anything else, the door opened and Rumlow stepped in

“Secretary Pierce is ready now guys.” “Thanks.” Katie nodded, shooting Steve another glance as they both stood up.

“Not a word.” He mumbled as they got into the elevator “We say nothing, not until we figure out who we can trust.”

“If we can trust anyone.” She mumbled back.

*****

“Captain, why was Nick in your apartment last night?” Secretary Pierce looked at Steve as he sat on the couch next to Katie in the large office.

“I don’t know.” He answered in a soft voice.

“Did you know it was bugged?” Pierce pressed on.

“We did.” Katie nodded meeting the secretary’s eye. “Because Nick told us.”

“Did he tell you he was the one who bugged it?”

Steve took a breath and glanced at Katie, his expression stony but the two of them shared the understanding.

No, no he had not.

“I want you to see something.” Pierce continued, and gestured to a monitor just behind the couches we were sitting on. On the screen was a man tied down to a chair, he looked to be currently being interrogated. Katie didn’t recognise the man, but Steve did.  It was Batroc, the lead merc from the hijacking of the Lemurian Star.

“Is that live?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, they picked him up last night in a not so safe house in Algiers.”

“Are you saying he’s a suspect?” Steve didn’t take his eyes off the screen “Assassination isn’t Batroc’s line.”

“It’s more complicated than that. Batroc was hired anonymously to hijack the Lemurian Star. He was contacted by email and paid by wire transfer, and then the money was run through seventeen fictitious accounts. The last going to a holding company that was registered to a Jacob Veech.” Pierce said handing Steve a folder.

“Am I supposed to know who that is?” Steve skimmed through the file offered to him in curiosity and confusion.

“Not likely. Veech died six years ago. His last address was 1435 Elmhurst Drive. When I first met Nick, his mother lived at 1437.”

“Wait,” Katie frowned as she gathered what Pierce was suggesting. “Are you saying Fury hired the pirates? Why?”

“The prevailing theory?” Pierce shrugged. “The hijacking was a cover for the acquisition and sale of classified intelligence. The sale went sour and that led to Nick’s death.”

“If you really knew Nick Fury you’d know that’s not true.” Steve replied strongly, and he believed it. Fury was a lot of things, but a traitor he was not.

Pierce nodded in agreement. “Why do you think we’re here talking?” He then got to his feet and began to walk towards the window. “See, I took a seat on the council not because I wanted to, but because Nick asked me to because we were both realists. We knew that despite all the diplomacy, and the hand shaking and the rhetoric, to build a really better world sometimes means having to tear the old one down. And that makes enemies.”

Steve didn’t like the way this was going. He looked at Katie and gestured for her to stand as he did. Pierce turned back around and looked at them both.

“Those people that call you dirty because you’ve got the guts to stick your hands in the mud and try to build something better. And the idea that those people could be happy today,” Pierce shoved his hands in his pockets. “Makes me really, really angry. Captain, you and Miss Stark were the last ones to see Nick Fury alive. I don’t think that’s an accident.” Pierce said matter-of-factly. “And I don’t think you do, either. So, I’m going to ask again was he there?”

“He told us not to trust anyone.” Steve said honestly.

Pierce made a humming sound. “I wonder, if that included him.”

There was a tense moment of silence before Steve spoke again. “I’m sorry. Those were his last words. Excuse us,” He turned to leave, picking up his shield that he sent down upon our arrival and attaching it to the harness on his back, before ushering Katie out of the room slightly ahead of him.

“Captain,” Pierce’s voice halted him mid step and he turned to look at him. “Someone murdered my friend. I’m going to find out why. Anyone who gets in my way is going to regret it.” Pierce’s voice rang out again, a pointed look in their direction.

Steve wasn’t a stupid man, and he knew that was a veiled threat. He took a deep breath, considering his response, before he decided appearing un-rattled was the best option.

“Understood.” He nodded, holding the door open for Katie to step through keeping himself between her and Pierce as he followed, anchoring his hand on her back to keep her moving.

“You should have lied.” She whispered.

“Huh?” “Back then, said we didn’t know why Fury was there. By telling him that he told us not to trust anyone he knows we know and that we’re hiding something.” Her tone was a little panicked and Steve simply took a deep breath.

“We need to get to the hospital and get that stick.” He looked at her, remaining  adamant that whatever it was that was on there would hold the answers. He looked up and down the corridor before they stepped into the elevator.

“Operations Control” Steve spoke as the elevator scanned his face and Katie’s Guest ID.

“Confirmed”

Just as the doors were about to close, Rumlow stepped in with two other STRIKE agents.

“Keep all STRIKE personnel on site” He was saying.  Both the agents nodded and voiced their acknowledgement of his order. “Forensics.” 

“Confirmed.”

“Cap, Nova…” Rumlow nodded to them both.

“Rumlow.” Steve acknowledged him as the doors closed and they started to descend.

“Evidence Response found some fibres on the roof they want us to see.” Rumlow turned his head to look at Steve. “You want me to get the tac-team ready?”

“No, let’s wait and see what it is first.”

“Right.” Rumlow turned back and Steve looked out of the side of the elevator, pondering what his next move was. Chase down the man responsible? The drive? The elevator stopped at the next floor and Rollins plus a few more SHIELD and Strike agents entered, Steve moving over slightly to allow them in.

“What’s the status so far?” Rollins was saying.

“Administrations level” another one asked, before they continued whatever it was they were talking about, moving round to find a space behind Steve and Katie.

He noticed Katie look round, a frown on her face, but before he could say anything Rumlow spoke, looking over his shoulder at Steve.

“I’m sorry about what happened with Fury. Messed up, what happened to him”

“Thank you.” Steve nodded.

Katie could sense something was off. Years of training as an Agent didn’t just leave you when you quit, and those years of training had taught her very well to read body language. Rumlow was alert, too alert, and it was more than just a nervousness because Fury had been killed. There was an atmosphere in the lift, and she glanced at one of the agents that had joined them at the last floor. He was still talking, normally, but he there was a bead of sweat dripping down his cheek from his temple.

Steve could sense it too. He watched as Rumlow and Rollins exchanged a glance and looked down at Katie who was watching him, nervous expression on her face. He shook his head gently, instructing her to keep calm.

The elevator stopped and another agent entered.

“Records”

This one stood in front of them, facing the elevator doors and it was then with a slight air of exasperation at allowing it to happen, Steve realised they were surrounded. Whilst he wasn’t too concerned, he knew he could more than likely fight his way out, it was his girl he was bothered for. It had been months since she had been in active combat, and this was going to be brutal. Besides him Katie stiffened, feeling very underprepared for what was about to go down. She had no weapons, nothing. Instinctively Steve gripped her hand and pulled her forward so she was stood next to him instead of behind and moved his feet apart slightly, hands on the buckle of his belt, adopting his Captain stance, preparing for what was coming.

“Before we get started,” he sighed, looking down before he stared straight ahead, “does anyone want to get out?”

His eyes flicked to the back of Rumlow’s head. There was a moment’s pause before all hell broke loose. They both put up a good fight, ducking, diving, punching. Steve was then shocked with a baton, but he simply grit his teeth, absorbing the electricity into his body. It hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. And then, three of them managed to snap one of his arms to the wall of the elevator using some kind of metallic clamp, before five of them piled on him at once, attempting to pin his other arm in too. He kicked out, taking down as many as he could.

Just as Katie had floored the second of the agents who had launched at her, she was grabbed from behind by her hair and hauled to the edge of the elevator, being wrestled roughly to the floor by Rumlow who was instantly on top of her, trying to get her wrists from where she had positioned them underneath her body in an attempt to stop them restraining her.

"Brock…” She spoke gently, looking at him as she swallowed. “What’s going on?” “I’m sorry Stark.” He shook his head. “Just following orders.”

“Yeah well follow this.”  She snarled, the anger brewing in her as she jerked her head forwards as hard as she could, feeling it connect with his nose.  He yelled, and then her head snapped painfully to the right as he back handed her straight across the face. She felt her lip split and the warm, metallic taste of blood hit her taste buds, stars flashing in front of her eyes as her ears began to ring from the harsh knock.

Steve saw Rumlow land the blow to Katie’s face and let out a growl of anger and aimed another kick at the final agent standing, causing them man to collide with the side of the elevator before slumping down. He turned, pulled on his arm as hard as he could, wrenching the cuff off the side of the elevator and looked up in time to see Katie, who was now pinned against the wall by another set of those damned cuffs, take a blow to the ribs from Rumlow causing her to cry out in pain.

“Rumlow!” Steve yelled causing the man to whip his head round, surprise on his face. Katie, using her arms as leverage, swung her legs upwards, kicking Rumlow with both feet. The STRIKE leader stumbled slightly as Steve snarled at him, his entire body and face alight with rage “Touch my girl again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Rumlow got to his feet, holding one of his arms out, electric rod in his hand “Whoa, big guy. I just want you both to know, this ain’t personal.”

He then lunged at Steve with his electric rod but one on one Steve was easily able to defend himself, he moved to the right, dodged and grabbed Rumlow, throwing him harshly upwards where he crashed into the ceiling of the elevator, before falling to the floor, unconscious.

“Yeah well, it kind of feels personal” Steve said, his breath slightly ragged from the exertion. He used his foot to flip his shield over like a Frisbee, catching it perfectly.

“You alright?” Steve asked, stepping over the bodies that littered the floor of the elevator to get to Katie.

“Yeah.” She assured him. Steve cut the cuffs that were restraining her into two pieces with his shield and she bent over, his hands gently on her back as she rubbed at her side before straightening up and stalking over to where Rumlow was beginning to stir slightly. She kicked him hard in the face, causing him to flip backwards and he was out, unconscious.

“Nothing personal.” She spat, then looked up at Steve. There was a moment during which they both looked around, trying to make sense of what had happened, before the elevator doors opened and Steve pulled Katie sharply behind him. They both stared at a team of STRIKE agents pointing their weapons into the elevator. Steve raised his shield.

“Drop the shield! Put your hands in the air!”

Steve looked round, and spotted the elevator wires to the left of Katie’s head

“DUCK!” he yelled at her, and as she did, he swiped with his shield over her head sending them plummeting. Eventually the emergency brake systems kicked in and the elevator stopped, slightly misaligned with the doors by a few feet. As Katie bent down to retrieve a gun and some ammo off one of the Agents, Steve forced the door open, intending to climb out but more STRIKE agents were approaching. He closed the door again and looked at Katie, then around the glass walls, looking down below us at the glass roof of the main Triskelion atrium.

It was a long way but they could make it.

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” Katie exclaimed, realising exactly what he was thinking.

“Give it up, Rogers! Get that door open! You have nowhere to go!” came the yell from the floor outside the elevator door.

“Do you trust me?” Steve asked, both his hands cupping Katie’s face.

“Of course I do, but…”

“Then hang on…”

She sighed and jumped onto his back, swinging her legs round his waist and her arms round his neck. Steve raised his shield in front of him, before he propelled them forward and broke through the glass in the elevator, spreading his arms out wide as he fell to prevent them from tumbling through the air before tucking his body as tightly in to his shield as he could. Katie did the same, burying her head into his back as they crashed through the glass ceiling and hit the floor with a loud clang, to screams and shouts from people all around the atrium.

Katie gave a soft groan, rolling off Steve who moaned and stretched out, having been winded from the impact. But Steve knew they had to keep moving. With a monumental effort, he pushed himself up onto his knees, took a deep breath and offered his hand to Katie to help her stand. They both took a quick glance around before he started to run, pulling her with him. She stumbled slightly, but Steve kept hold of her, not letting her fall until her legs seemed to be working again.

And then they ran.

**** Chapter 15

**Original Posting**

[stockholmdolly]

EASY PREY (BEWARE OF THE LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD) 17

Pairings: Brock Rumlow x Bucky Barnes hahaha not really, just them being good bros. Surprise guest.

Warnings: none.

Word count: 1,160

Author’s note: Hello fanfiction world, it is me! Stockholm Dolly. Chapter 17, my fault I thought I already posted this 😑 Happy reading...😈

CHAPTER 17/26 JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

-  Son. Of. A. Damn. Bitch. Barnes. Sonofadamnbitch! I said, after slamming the flip on my giant cell phone and cringing from the incessant ringing in my ears. Boyd had answered my call, and I think he agreed to check the schoolhouse and bring his gun, but I couldn’t hear him. Then he’d called back, I think within five minutes—I knew only because I’d set the ringer to vibrate. Boyd’s words melded together in a muffle to me, which must have registered on my face, for Barnes crawled past the flaming car, grabbed the phone even though I hadn’t said a word to him, and listened to whatever Boyd was yammering on about. He relayed Boyd’s news—once again shocking and near unbelievable—by scrawling out a summary in the notebook he kept in the square pocket of his pants.

Here’s what his note said:

B find TRodrig at his van. ?? Woods? No Y/N. B say, “Ain’t no sign of no other girl. Ain’t no one around here.” B used phone in school kitchen. B reports, “Some kinda smell downright awful in here, coming from the upstairs. Smells like death.”

After this fairly appropriate, file-worthy note, he added his thoughts on a second page of paper, while saying the words slowly so I could read his lips:

-  And how the hell’s Boyd supposed to understand what an awful smell is? That shit-stinking chicken farmer.

The Bureau required all of our notes and observations, especially those we wrote, to go into the official record. But you try and stop Barnes from spouting off on his constant opinions. I ripped his second note, wishing he wouldn’t editorialize so much.

-  With all the burning cars and people—like your dumb ass—I got to save, spare me the pleas about my opinions, Rumlow,” he hissed when I tossed the pieces of his note to the now slick ground.

I knew what he said, mostly because I read his moving lips; the ringing, the ringing, how awful that ringing had risen. I was a mad deaf man, fighting to hear clearly again. I felt I was still dreaming, running so fast, beating my legs to pump harder and harder, my chest heaving in the stress to move forward, but moving nowhere, an inch an hour. Ring, ring, ring, the ringing drowned everything out, blurring the world. I clawed my hands, cupped my ears, searched the falling sky for any other sense, any color, only to find the mottled gray of an unfurling curtain—and the shadows of black, how they, too, fell like ghosts. The clouds had merged into a coiled thunderhead, and yet, despite the ominous darkness, relinquished only bits of water as though to torture us all in that strip mall parking lot. And the fire didn’t care; no liquid could quench its anger. Frank’s Volvo, stripped of much of her paint, became a warped box of burnt steel. Only blotches of orange remained in the parts untouched by flames.

One of those irritating raindrops, a fat one, plunked on the bridge of my nose, rolled on the crest before plunging left to ride the cavern of my cheek, and landed on the topmost rim of my lips. The friction of the water’s movement itched me to an untenable annoyance, so I quickly rubbed my face hard with the sleeve of my moist, gray jacket. The ringing seemed to soften when I fixed on this other sense.

After reading Barnes’s disdainful opinion of Boyd’s report on the smell of death, I shot him the “Seriously” look while covering both my ears as though this would dampen further the bleating bells. He backed down.

An ambulance and a fire truck came onto my and Barnes’s accident scene, the ambulance practically skiing in on two tires. By this point, Barnes and I were standing and separately guarding the chief and the deputy. Onlookers had formed a half circle behind us, all safely at bay given Barnes’s ferocious commands and spitting yells. While he kept our boundary intact, I scanned the crowd for anyone who might have an off-road truck.

A woman in a quilted Carhartt jacket stood taller and wider than her compatriots. She had long, thick, farm-girl hair, and under her jacket she wore a flannel shirt, buttoned to the top and untucked over a pair of white-washed jeans. Mud melted up over the toes of her boots, the kind with a thick rubber sole. I placed her at about mid-forties. Apart from the Viking stature, she was rather attractive.

-  Ma’am, I shouted, nodding to her.

-  Me? She mouthed, inaudible to me. At this point, I suffered a dulled ringing accompanied by an auditory windstorm.

-  You got a truck? I yelled.

-  Ford F-150, she said. I moved closer and faced my ear directly on her speaking mouth. She pointed to a shiny, black Ford F-150, sure as rain, right behind her. Slow raindrops cut lines down her fogged windows.

-  All wheel?

-  Of course, her lips said, the woman sniffing back a bit of indignation. A man with mutton chops crossed his arms and nodded my way while screwing his face toward her, and with a nose flick, said, “This guy for real?” in his gesture.

-  Ma’am, we’re going to need your truck, Barnes intervened, having caught on to my struggle and to my intention.

I stepped closer and pulled the Viking woman out of earshot of everyone else. “And if you could direct us to the old boarding school?”

She again sniffed, but added a disbelieving smile.

-  Wow. Hmpph, Barnes later told me the a man told the woman. “I taught there twenty years, until the foreclosure. I’ve been wondering what the hell’s been going on up at the Appletree” And she said “Yeah, I can take you guys there if you want”

I rolled my shoulders, scrunching in shoulder to shoulder, attempting to quell the screeching wind within my broken ears. Barnes took over, although he too seemed distressed in the way he kept twitching his nose. The stench of burning metal and leather was probably unbearable to his superior olfactory sense.

After we settled in the truck and the Viking woman started driving, we heard a faint. “I have the team with me, heading to the fight point, everyone in positions”

We looked at each other, panicking, thinking in a way to get out of there.

 BUCKY’S POV

Whoever this woman is, knows what we’re looking for. I was getting more stressed by the minute, I couldn’t care less about my life, but Y/N and the babies was all I could think about. Boyd’s note scared  the hell out of me, what If that smell is from Y/N’s and now it’s too late? I was so immersed in my thoughts that I didn’t hear the woman speaking to us.

- Hey boys, did you miss me?

- Sharon…

Taglist: @cjand10​

[aki-draws-things]

Little bits of strike team and Clint. Because the more I keep telling me I have a deadline for another thing, less I write that thing. damn!

Also, Murray is the biggest fan boy ever. It's adorable.

They liked to call themselves "the original four" because, well, it was fitting. It was who they were. The first four, put together because pierce had needed a team once, disbanded after the mission and never again the same. They filled each others in ways beyond explanation, they had chemistry, and they only worked at best when together. Pierce had wanted a team, they became a family in the span of one mission.

"I don't like following orders." was the first thing Jenkins said, looking straight at rumlow, arms crossed over her chest and an annoyed expression.

"you'll have to." was all that rumlow said back before start explaining the mission.

"I don't see why the blind one gets to be the sniper." Murray chimed in, while on the plane.

"I can shoot you in the ass with eyes closed." Brock snorted and Jenkins tried not to follow.

"I like him already, darlin'."

"I don't."

It took them a single mission to change. It took them one mission to decide they were family, decide the would die for each other. One mission to decide the four of them were perfect as they were, thank you very much.

"he's deaf." Murray looked up from the classified file in hand. No name, no photo, nothing.

"and you have prejudices. Again." jack said quietly.

"let's be honest, we're enough, we don't need a marksman with a primitive weapon. Besides, he's good. Too good."

"we don't even know who it is."

"but we have the reports. He's good."

They all fell silent as rumlow walked closer with barton behind him.

"if you've finished, - he started.- let me introduce specialist commander Barton."

"wait, THE Barton?!" Murray finally squeaked, eyes wide as Clint raised an eyebrow and Jenkins broke in a fit of giggle.

"I apologize on his behalf, - she said, laughing. - he's a fanboy."

"I'm not a fa--- are we seriously gonna work with you, sir?"

"well, I asked for the best, and rumlow said nothing beat his team, so yeah."

"what will be the mission?"

"patience. Let's move, first."

Clint pointed at a dark quinjet and they followed close, Murray still mumbling under his breath.

"the Barton..."

"please stop freaking out, sweetheart, or he'll bench you."

It was hours in the fly when Clint walked back to the three of them, followed by rumlow.

"mission's simple actually, we need to extract someone from a place."

"that's... Vague." jack raised an eyebrow at him and rumlow just shook his shoulders, he knew just as much apparently.

"I told pierce many times that new teams shouldn't be allowed around the Asset. Anyone want to guess how many times the man listened to me?" when they all remained silent Clint smirked. They knew better than somehow call out their boss. "exactly. You all guessed right. Zero times." he went on, deadly serious, uncaring of consequences.

"so now I have a loose Asset on God forgotten Madripoor, hopefully awaiting instructions. And a strike team dead. Which means, for the record, lot of paperwork. And Brock knows how much I despise them."

"we're going to rescue pierce's favorite Asset?"

"no. We're going to drag him out of that hell hole in one piece."

"why does pierce -- - Brock stopped for a second. - I thought you agreed to be his designated handler."

"Brock you know---?"

"as said, when does he ever listen? Enough questions. We go in, get him, get out. Easy as that."

"you make it sound like it's actually gonna be easy, sir. - Murray interjected. - but it's madripoor..."

"yeah. Hopefully they still remember the little hawk flying around the Soldier."

If possible Murray's mouth fell more open.

"THE Hawk?!!"

"I'm extremely sorry for my husband's behavior, sir. He's a really big fan."

[obsessedbutnotblessed]

❌PLEASE READ ALL OF THIS AND TELL ME YOUR HONEST OPINION❌

I’ve never EVER written fan fiction before (i can barely write essays for school). I only read it, but I’ve had an idea for LONGGG One Shot or maybe a 3 part mini-series for Spencer Reid. I might try writing but it would be my first time and I don’t think it’ll come out the way I want it to. Everyone knows that in the show Spencer was a high school student when he was 12 and he was bullied but I barely see anyone write about it.

❕Okay so here’s the plot: Spencer is 12 years old and it’s Senior Year (everyone else is 17/18). He gets BULLIED by the school jocks, Brock Rumlow (he’s the only name I could think of for a bully and it’s a good name for an unsub, but Marvel won’t be in this) and two other boys. Like bullied so bad that he cries everyday and everyone at school hates him and calls him a freak except for one person, Y/N. She doesn’t really notice him at first, but then she sees Spencer in her trigonometry class and he always gets the answers right. Y/N isn’t popular but she isn’t a loser either. One day she is walking from class to go outside and she sees that Brock tied Spencer to the flag pole and everyone is laughing at him and recording him. Spencer is literally on the verge of tears. She runs to Brock and literally cusses him out (I kinda know what I want her to say) and threatens to tell the school and file a report. If she does that then he could loose his D1 scholarship for football to college. He leaves and she unties Spencer and he’s in shock that anyone would be nice to him. She starts saying “Don’t take shit from these assholes. Never apologize for being the smartest person in the room” etc. Spencer takes the bus and gets bullied on there too, so Y/N decides not only to drive him home, but to drive him to and from school everyday for the rest of the year. When she drives him home, she stops by McDonalds and Spencer tells her the harmful effects of fast food but still gets food anyways lmao. And guess what he orders; 10 chicken nugget meal with MILK. And the reader looks at him like he’s crazy but he says “Milk helps you grow.”🥺. Okay so after that day the reader and Spencer become really good friends. They have deep conversations about their hopes and dreams for the future. Spencer wants to help people the way you’ve helped him and Y/N wants to be a singer. She loves performing and wants to entertain people. She sings for Spencer one day and Spencer develops a crush on her. The reader is oblivious but doesn’t reciprocate the feelings cuz he’s 12 and she’s 18. The reader actually does go to the principal about Brock and he loses his scholarship from college because he has not 1 not 2 but 3 bullying reports on his record. There is a lot of evidence that proves he’s a bully because everyone was recording it, spreading it around, and at first he thought the video was funny but it came back to bite him in the ass. He is FUMING but he can’t hurt you or Spencer cuz he’s already in a lot of trouble. He leaves school and never comes back; for now. Spencer asks the reader to prom as friends and they actually have a good time. Then it’s time for graduation. Spencer is going to CalTech and the reader got into Juilliard! She says “never let anyone take advantage of you Spencer. You’re an amazing boy and you’re going to do amazing things in California. Don’t forget me,” and he says “It is mentally impossible for me to forget you or anything. I have an eidetic memory. But thank you” and they go their separate ways.

❎10 YEARS LATER❎ Spencer is working at the the FBI and the BAU has a case. It’s about the reader. The reader got her dream and became a famous singer. For the past month she has been going through her fan mail, she sees weird messages saying “YOU RUINED MY LIFE” “I’LL MAKE YOU REGRET IT” “IM COMING FOR YOU” and her manager contacts the BAU. She sees Spencer and doesn’t recognize him at first cuz he’s an adult now, but he sees her and falls in love with her all over again. She finally recognizes him and freaks outttt. She like “OMFG YOURE AN ADULT! LIKE YOU HAVE FACIAL HAIR LMAOOO”. Of course i’m going to include Derek hitting on her somehow. And they are back in Las Vegas because it’s their high school’s 10 year reunion. The notes won’t stop. Soon they escalate into photos and then videos of her until she gets kidnapped. Brock is the one who kidnaps her. He blames her for ruining his life. Because he lost his scholarships and dropped out of school, he’s now like a janitor or a trash man i guess. And Brock kidnaps her and brings her back to the school. They are in the boiler room. Reid breaks in to save her but Brock has her at gun point. Reid literally tells Brock how evil his is, how he will never amount to anything g because he’s just a big bully, and how he isn’t afraid of him anymore. Brock almost pulls the trigger on Y/N, but Reid shoots and kills Brock. Reid hugs Y/N as she’s crying and says “you’re safe now princess.”🦋💢⭕️! She says “you saved me. thank you” and he goes “You saved me 10 years ago. I had to return the favor somehow” and they laugh and kiss. Spencer takes Y/N home, and they f*ckkkkkk. I can’t write smut through so idk. ❕

But yeah that’s it. Should I write it? I would ask someone else to write it but it’s long and i can’t pay anyone LMAO i’m a broke high-school student. Anyways please tell me your thoughts. Should I give it a chance and write it or forget about it. Also if anyone wants to write this, please message me and tag me. I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER 🙈😍🥰. okieee bye!

i read all your comments & messages and this story idea got a lot of positive feedback. i honestly didn’t think people would care that much LMAO. but yeah i’m going to write it!! it’s gonna be my first fan fiction yayyy. So if you want to be tagged let me know! Also please comment down any ideas you have (a title name 👀)!! 🦋💗

[nekoannie-chan]

Crossroads part II

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.!Mutant!Reader, ? X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.!Mutant!Reader.

Word count: 1106 words.

Summary: Steve and you separate because he didn’t put enough attention to you.

Warnings/Tags: Angst, break up, sad, loneliness, old relationship, new relationship.

A/N: This two-shot is based on the song 別れ道 (Wakaremichi) by The GazettE.

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie                                        

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum  @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae  @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose  @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae  @alexxavicry  @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted  @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer  @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm​ @patzammit​

Finally, Steve made up his mind. He went to look up your file; he hadn't had much information about you since last year. Had you been moved?

"It's been two years since we broke up; it seems like yesterday.

We're walking different paths now, but sometimes I run towards yours."

You hadn't been moved to a different venue; you were just on a different team now. You were now working with Strike, and Steve frowned at that. You always said how much you hated working with Rumlow and Rollins; it would probably be torture for you now.

Where are you, and what are you doing now? Have you made your precious dream come true?

Those questions were always going around in Steve's head, although he hadn't forgotten the last conversation you had either. In the end, you did end their relationship; however, Steve was still hopeful that at some point you would return and continue together. Another thought popped into his head as he continued to read the report: at this point, it was a miracle that there wasn't some team casualty.

"I worry too much about those things, don't I?" Steve commented aloud to himself.

Despite everything, he was still thinking about you, still worried about you, and still couldn't forget you.

Steve didn't know what to do; the memories were too many. You had been together for so long that it was impossible to forget something like that.

"Do you remember? The tears and the smiles, those beautiful days overflowing, as we cried together."

Steve still held out hope that you would come back. Maybe during this time, you had been apart, you had realized several things, and there was still the possibility...

Could we walk together again?

That was what Steve longed for the most—for them to come back and be the same as before.

No matter how long it is, I will wait for the day when I can come back.

Please let me hear your voice.

He couldn't deny it; he had looked for a way to contact you; it seemed you had changed your social networks; he had also called you several times, but you never answered or returned his calls.

He tried again; he looked up your phone number on his cell phone and pressed the call button, but no one answered.

I want to hear your voice, so I tried to call you, but, just as I thought, you didn't answer again.

Sure, there was the possibility that you had changed your phone number, but you were supposed to have arranged to be friends, even though since the last time you spoke, you had not had any communication.

"Are you avoiding me? I don't understand," Steve said aloud.

He felt pain; he knew it wasn't exactly physical, but metaphorically, it was sentimental; he felt incomplete; he was missing you; and he wanted to go back to those days when you were happy and together. Several times, you had been his reason for not giving up.

He turned to look at the clock; sometimes it seemed to him that time passed extremely slowly or even stopped. Nothing was the same without you.

Was there anything I could do?

Was there any way to fix what had happened?

Should you talk again?

I could do whatever it took to make things work and get them back together happily.

Every day, he kept hoping that, at some point, you would have to meet again, and that would be the time when you could work everything out.

Some days seemed overwhelming as if an intense fog was covering everything. Even if that wasn't true, that day was one of those.

Steve was walking through the compound when he froze when he saw the scene he had never believed was possible, but he also noticed other changes—many changes—and he smiled.

He saw you kissing the person he least expected; maybe, in the end, your destiny was not to be together but simply to coincide, or maybe he was making a mistake; however, he still had a few questions.

"Now you smile happily, holding the hand of the one you love.

You've matured, and you've become very pretty. Even though I thought I should be sad, I was happy."

Although he did make sure you didn't see it, he was surprised that you didn't tell him anything. You were supposed to tell each other everything that happened to you.

"We said we would meet again, and we wouldn't forget.

Then Steve understood everything; now everything was very different.

"Are you sure you want to go on the mission?" Brock asked you after seeing the documents.

You knew that someday a situation like this would happen, but you didn't expect it to happen so soon; you had already talked about what could happen.

"It's work; I think we can be professional," you replied.

"Are you afraid to go on the mission, Rumlow?" Steve asked behind you.

"I'm never afraid," Brock replied mockingly.

"We should hurry; otherwise, Fury will come yelling at us," you said, not wanting to cause any trouble or confrontation.

"I saw you the other day," Steve commented as he grabbed the things you would need for the mission.

"What? " You didn't remember seeing Steve since you broke up; despite working in the same place, the Triskelion was so big that meeting someone could even be impossible.

"Two weeks ago, you were holding hands with him. I just want to know what makes you happy.

"I am happy with him," you assured him.

The mission had been successful; everything went according to plan. Maybe you should talk to Steve; after all, he had also been someone important in your life, and maybe you could continue being friends.

On the other hand, Steve had already checked that you were happy; it was the only thing that mattered to him, and now he could continue.

"Steve," "you called him.

"I'm glad you're happy," Steve said suddenly.

"Hey, we could talk," you asked, approaching him.

"Bye and take care of yourself, okay?" Steve whispered before he left the room and didn't look at you again.

That's when you realized that this was probably the last time you would see Steve.

"Take care of yourself too; I wish you to be happy," you said, even knowing that he would no longer listen to you.

The only thing left was for you to go on with your lives and look to the future. You wished that Steve would soon meet someone who would be his soulmate since you had found yours.

[morgana-greenleaf]

Whumptober day 4 - pushed and day 26 - fallen

WT Masterlist | Read on AO3

additional warnings: heavily implied major character death

It’s been six months since HYDRA took over the government, six months since SHIELD collapsed, and finally, they have a chance at making it right.

The remnants of SHIELD have clustered in an abandoned quarry, hiding out in the dark tunnels like mice, waiting for their moment to strike. Some teams – like Clint and Nat – have been running rescue missions for prisoners, freeing them and bringing them back to base where their information can be put to good use.

And then there’d been the intelligence missions – Rumlow and the STRIKE team had stayed with HYDRA, sending information back to SHIELD so they would know where next to strike.

It meant they knew which prisoners would be of value to them, which prisoners to save.

Sam had flat-out refused to help at all until his family were safe. It had taken a month, but Hill had finally managed to get them out to New Zealand. So Sam could provide air support for their latest mission.

It was a little different than usual – breaking into the HYDRA High Command to steal intel directly. The information they’d been getting recently was almost useless, so they had to go directly to the source.

It was also a good opportunity to plant a bomb or five.

More unusual, was the fact that Clint was teaming up with STRIKE, Sam in the air and Nat being their ‘tech guy in a van’, even if it was a bunker nearby rather than a van.

It was surprisingly easy to get into the base, crawl through the ceiling vents and drop into an empty computer room, while the STRIKE team placed the explosives. The hacking program on Clint’s USB only took a few minutes to break into the computer, and from there all he had to do was copy them and wait for the transfer.

It was then everything went to shit.

There was a clicking at the door as someone unlocked. Clint had an arrow nocked and aimed before the door even opened, and the fired the moment the door opened. The man fell to the ground with a thud.

But there were four men behind the first. They radioed back into their comms before he had a chance to take them down.

Clint glanced back at the computed. 78% copied. He didn’t have to wait long, but he didn’t exactly have long, either.

Course, HYDRA knows he’s here now, so there’s nothing wrong with using an explosive arrow to knock the remaining HYDRA agents out. He drags the bodies into the room and locks the door again, then drags a filing cabinet in front of the door. He looks back at the computer. 92%.

“I’ve lost contact with the STRIKE team,” Natasha says in his ear. “I’ve called Hill, and the extraction team’s mobilised. You need to get to the roof.”

“Roger that,” Clint says. There’s a tiny ding as the copying’s completed, almost distracting him from the thudding at the door as the HYDRA agents try to break through.

Clint pulls the USB out and tucks it into his pocket, then climbs onto the desk and up into the vents, pulling the cover closed behind him.

“I’m back in the vents,” he reports to Natasha.

“We don’t have a full map of the system,” she says, although he already knows that. “For now you’re just going to have to climb straight up.”

Climbing around the vents at Avengers Tower is fun. Climbing around the vents of HYDRA High Command, however, is not fun. For one thing, they’re not designed for someone his height to be crawling around in them. For another, there’s angry HYDRA agents trying to murder him.

He comes to a vent leading straight up, and he clambers into it, bracing himself against the edges as he works his way up the shaft.

Clint gets to the top, and carefully reaches into his pocket, drawing out the laser cutter from Tony in order to get the grate open. A wonky circle falls out, hitting him on the knee before clattering to the bottom of the vents.

Clint hauls himself out of the vents and lies on the roof for a moment to catch his breath.

“Helicopters should be there in less than a minute,” Natasha reports, “Are you on the roof?”

“Yep,” Clint says, getting to his feet and surveying the base.

Then he sees Rumlow at the edge of the roof, staring at where the helicopters are just coming into view.

At the other end of the base, a figure dressed entirely in black is on the roof, what looks like a large grenade launcher in hand.

The helicopters are getting closer, almost enough to land-

and the figure shoots a grenade right through the windscreen of the first helicopter into the second, where it explodes, in what would be a frankly beautiful shot if it hadn’t destroyed Clint’s only escape.

“Shit,” he says. “Shit, Nat, the helicopters’ve been blown up.”

Nat swears in Russian. “Steal something,” she says, desperately, “I’ll get the base plans up and find something, hang on.”

There’s a large explosion on the ground, probably the helicopters hitting. Clint goes over to Rumlow.

“Nat’s gonna find us something to steal so we can get out,” he says.

Rumlow nods. “You trust me?”

“Of course,” Clint says, because Fury’s very thorough checking out his agents, even if Rumlow’s a dick.

Rumlow grins. “You shouldn’t”

He grabs Clint’s shoulder and pushes him off the roof.

[psycheshorror]

“Shut Up”

pairing: MCU!Brock Rumlow x reader

summary: smutty smut smut with tons of cursing. rough sex.

authors note: I’m new to the whole writing scene, critiques appreciated!

part two

God, Brock was so pretty when he finally shut the fuck up.

It started off small. Working as an assistant for Maria Hill meant you had to schedule debriefing meetings, hunt down agents for completed mission reports, and occasionally make small talk with the big guys - Captain Rogers and you were on first name basis and sometimes he even brought you coffee when turning in his reports. Neatly written, filled out properly, never a second late and somehow the coffee always tasted like it was just brewed.

But Brock Rumlow was something else.

Always wearing a shit-eating grin when he saw you, brown eyes full of amusement as he watched you disdainfully pluck the report out of his large hands. Messy as fuck handwriting as per usual, and no matter how many times you told him to remember to be thorough, there was always a detail missing that didn’t line up with the rest of his teammates. And no matter how small it was, it meant the process had to start all over again.

You tried to remain professional, but you were at your wits end. You wanted to be like Maria. Maria never gets her feathers ruffled, and sure as hell doesn’t over paperwork, but goddamn if it didn’t require a miracle for Brock’s report to be correct the first time around.

“Hey honey,” he said, mouth curling up into a catlike grin.

“Rumlow,” you acknowledged, trying desperately to keep your eyes fixated on your computer screen, almost effectively ignoring the flutter in your chest at the pet name. You reached for your coffee mug and frowned when the now-cold liquid hit your lips.

Licking your bottom lip when a stray drop threatened to dribble down your chin, you swore you heard the 6”4 man purr.

A shuffle in your peripheral vision and your desk creaking, you couldn’t help but to now look into the eyes of the absolute brick house of a man.

Both large hands placed flat against the edges of your desk, leaning down, he was only a few inches away from your face now. You could feel his breath on your lips and much to your embarrassment, felt a familiar stirring in your core.

“Do you wanna fuck?”

“Wh- what-“

All of a sudden he was chuckling, head bowing down to look at the floor and you could almost see a shyness you’ve never seen the agent express - ever. But then when he looked back at you, pupils blown wide and a different kind of smirk, you knew at that moment you were a goner.

Brock Rumlow was a wolf and you were a sitting duck, waiting to be eaten.

And eaten you were.

Brock currently had his face in between your legs, tongue mercilessly working your clit as his large fingers pumped into you. Threading your fingers in his hair, you cried out as the coil in your core wrapped so tight that you thought you were gonna die. Just a few more seconds and -

Brock’s head popped up and his fingers slid out to slap your pussy and you almost sobbed. “Brock!!” you whined, embarrassed at the desperation in your voice.

“Did I fucking say you could cum?” he gritted out, hands on your hips and fingers digging so hard in the flesh you knew there would be bruises the next day.

“You motherfucker-“ you yelped when you were suddenly face down into the mattress. Brock’s strength was insane on the field - you knew from

his bio that he built a reputation as being a huge asset to S.H.I.E.L.D., but you never expected it to creep into bed with him as well.

Well, you never expected to be in bed with him in general, but life is full of happy surprises, isn’t it?

You could feel Brock rutting against your ass, cock hard in his tactical pants. One hand firmly placed on the small of your back to hold you down, the other finding it’s way in your hair, tugging firmly. Nothing could have prepared you for how goddamn hot that was.

“Name calling ain’t nice, sweetheart,” he said, breath quickening as his hips rolled into your ass at a brutish pace.

“You’re gonna have to pay the price,” he whispered in your ear before licking the shell of it. You shivered, arousal completely dominating your mind and body. Fuck, you shouldn’t be wet for Brock Rumlow. You felt a tinge of guilt for Steve. You should be in bed with the guy that brought you coffee, not the one who couldn’t file a report properly because he simply didn’t care to.

A harsh slap on your bare ass brought you back to the situation at hand. You moaned as the hand in your hair switched to pinching your right nipple. Twisting hard, your eyes fluttered shut at the new feeling. You’ve never had it rough like this, but damn you were missing out.

You could feel your core starting to coil once more, on the precipice of orgasm just from Brock manhandling you and his covered cock rubbing against your cheeks.

“You like it rough, you little slut?” Another harsh slap from his right hand almost sent you over the edge. You moaned as his cock twitched in his pants, and knew how desperate he was for his own orgasm.

“I asked you a fuckin’ question,” he grunted, hands leaving your body to undo his belt and zipper. Your pussy quaked with the promise of being thoroughly fucked.

“Yes,” you moaned. “Now shut the fuck up and fuck me, Rumlow.”

You could feel the smile against your neck before he bit you, the full length of his cock slipping in until he completely buried himself in your core. You both almost keeled from pleasure.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good around my cock,” he groaned, dark eyelashes fluttering closed as he experimentally thrusted into you, almost savoring the sensation.

“Gotta let me fuck you all the time, I don’t know if I can get enough.” Finally slamming into you, you knew what true pleasure felt like.

“Rumlow,” you cried, tears prickling out the corners of your eyes as you angled yourself against him to feel his cock hit that perfect, magic spot in your pussy that made you see stars. He was merciless with his pace, his large hands digging into your hips once more, forcing you to take his full length and force at once.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours should have made you feel embarrassed. You weren’t supposed to be playing hanky panky with any of your coworkers, nonetheless an agent, but how were you supposed to resist his advances with his pretty brown eyes and that sultry smile?

And now with his cock buried so deeply inside of you, how could you ever stop?

He angled his hips upwards and you felt the underside of his shaft brush against your clit thrice and you were sent into one of the most powerful orgasms you have ever had.

Brock moaned feeling your walls close in on his cock and tugged your hair as you rode the waves of your orgasm. You cried when he slapped your ass, hard, and kept thrusting into you like his life depended on it. Your hands were shaking and you could barely keep your legs open, your orgasm turning you into a throbbing, helpless mess.

He came after a minute of reckless thrusting, the kind that said “I’m drunk off of sex” without anyone explicitly having to say it out loud. Spilling hot cum inside of you, you could feel him moan and a wave of pride washed over you. You could get used to hearing this more often.

Brock sighed and he gently kissed the dark marks he left on your neck, caressing your back and hushing your whimpers when he pulled out of your aching pussy.

Lips barely ghosting the angry red marks his hands left on your ass, he gingerly massaged your hips where he could see the bruises already forming.

After soft touches and tender kisses, he flipped you over, this time slowly as if you were the most valuable thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

You could feel your heart swelling with affection when you saw his eyes were now full of pure satisfaction. Hush now, feelings.

It was just good, rough sex. No need to make it anything other than that.

“Gotta say, honey,” he said, voice still coated with lust as he tucked his body against yours, pulling the sheets over both of you.

“I’m glad I can finally stop fucking up mission reports.”

“You bastard!” you exclaimed, laughing wildly as he curled a forearm around your waist. “I can’t count how many times I’ve had to make you redo your reports.”

“Well, I tried to get your attention, but you were all business,” he chuckled, nose nuzzling in your hair.

“So I figured, I’m just gonna ask. And I didn’t think you were gonna say yes.”

“Ask and you shall receive,” you yawned, feeling the fatigue of the wild sex start to creep into your bones. Eyes almost fluttering closed, you basked in the warmth of the big, muscly body behind you.

“Well, since you mentioned it... can I get an extension on this next report?”

“Not a chance.” You grinned, just before dozing off.

[feedmecookiesnow]

For @hopelessly-me, who wanted 41 from the prompt list: “Well, now I’m all wet.”

***

The first time the Asset meets Hawkeye, it is by accident.

It is after a mission, and he is walking to the extraction point. He is uncomfortable in his orange sweatshirt and jeans, but it allows him to blend in seamlessly with the drunken students around him.

Well. Perhaps not seamlessly. The Asset tries to move carefully, to be unnoticeable, but the crowds seem to part for him anyway. He can see the wary looks and the sideways glances, the fear that’s visible even through the haze of alcohol. Fear trickles through him too, because he is not allowed to be seen. He is not supposed to be remembered. This is wrong, he is not complying with orders to remain undetected.

(mission failure, you will be punished for this) says a voice in the back of his mind, and he does his best to shut it out. But the fear makes him walk faster, and when he turns the corner, he makes another mistake. He runs into someone.

The man in question stumbles backwards, eyes going wide as he spills liquid on himself. Beer, the Asset thinks, recognizing the label. I like that kind---

No. That is not right. He has never tasted beer. He does not know labels. He does not have preferences. This is wrong again, and he will be punished. (unstable, broken, what good are you as a weapon if all you do is fail)

“Aw, beer, no,” the man says sadly, and looks up at the Asset. “Well, now I’m all wet.” He half-heartedly swipes at his shirt with one hand, then looks up at him. “Sorry about running into you. You good?”

He is acting casual, but there is something in his blue eyes. A flicker of recognition, almost. Then it vanishes, and the Asset wonders if it was there at all. He is malfunctioning, it is possible he only thought he saw it. No one here knows him. Recognition is not logical in this situation.

“I apologize,” he says, the words coming out stiff and formal. “Excuse me.”

He steps around the man and continues down the sidewalk. Half a mile later, his handlers meet him at the extraction point. “Mission report,” Agent Rumlow says, harsh and demanding.

“Mission success,” the Asset says. “Target was eliminated within acceptable parameters and timeframe. Weapon was wiped and discarded in three different places. Followed pre-determined route to extraction point without...” (not without detection, you were noticed, do not lie to them)

(don’t tell them) says another voice in his mind. A softer voice, with a familiar Brooklyn accent. It is his voice, but it is not his voice, and he pauses, unsure what to do.

Agent Rumlow raises an eyebrow. “Without...?”

“There was a man,” the Asset says, the words coming out unbidden. “With blond hair. And a beer.”

“And?”

(Don’t tell them they’ll punish you don’t tell them don’t)

“I think he knew me.”

There is panic, after that. The Asset is forced into the van at gunpoint, and there are murmured discussions about the Chair and wiping and maintenance. The Asset stares straight ahead and tries not to show his panic. He is not supposed to panic, he does not have emotions. (malfunction, malfunction, not ready to comply)

Rumlow taps his arm, and the Asset turns. “This your guy?” Rumlow asks, showing him a picture on his tablet.

The Asset looks, noting how everyone around him goes tense when he does. The man in the picture is blond, but he is not the same. There is a tinge of familiarity about him, the Asset thinks, but it’s painful to dwell on it. So he just shakes his head and looks away. “No. That is not him.”

“Really?” Agent Rumlow asks. “Okay, so---”

“Rumlow,” one of the others calls. “Barton and Romanoff are in the area tonight.”

The agent looks startled for a moment. Then he moves through something else on the tablet until he pulls up another picture. A SHIELD file. The label at the top reads Hawkeye, and underneath that is a picture.

(don’t tell them they will hurt him)

“Yes,” the Asset says, shaking the voice out of his head. “That is him.”

There is more panic, but it’s not directed at him. They continue to point guns in his direction, but that is very normal, and the Asset relaxes as much as he can.

They still bring him to the Chair. Pierce questions him on the mission, and he gives the full report, including the man he’d run into. Pierce mutters something about ‘interfering little brats’ and tells Rumlow they will have to move up the schedule.

“Yes, sir,” Rumlow says. “Do you want us to hard burn him like he’s scheduled for, or---”

“No,” Pierce says, and the Asset feels relief at the thought (you do not have emotions, you are a weapon). “Just do general maintenance. We need to get it mission-ready ASAP. I’ll make up something for Fury to send Barton on. I want him out of our hair by the end of the week, understand?”

“Yes sir,” Rumlow says, and looks at the Asset. “Okay, big boy. You know the drill.”

He does. He sits in the Chair, answers their questions, lets them do what they need to do. They let him rest, and give him food, and then he gets his next mission. Target: Hawkeye. Method of elimination: Asset’s choice, as long as he ends up dead.

“Questions?” Agent Rumlow asks, closing the tablet.

(do I have to kill him please I don’t want to) “No, sir,” he says. “Ready to comply.”

***

And so the second time the Asset meets Hawkeye, it is on purpose.

The Asset follows his orders. Hawkeye is good---very good---but the Asset is better, and he eventually is able to corner him in a small warehouse. He divests Hawkeye of his weapons and puts him on his knees, looking over to his handler for approval. The handler nods.

(don’t kill him he knew you why did he know you)

His finger twitches on the trigger, but he doesn’t pull it. After a moment, Hawkeye looks up at him, anxiety and questions warring in his gaze. “Uh...”

“Quiet,” the handler orders him. “Asset. Complete the mission.”

The Asset shakes his head. “You know me,” he says to Hawkeye, who looks a little startled at the words.

“I do,” he says after a moment.  

“Why?”

Hawkeye tilts his head, meeting his eyes. Then he nods towards the handler. “Get rid of this guy,” he says, “and I’ll tell you.”

The Asset looks at him. Considering. Thinking. (you cannot defy your programming, you are a weapon, you will do as ordered or face consequences)

(but he knows you he knows you why does he know you)

“Asset,” the handler says, his voice higher-pitched with fear. “Finish your mission, now!”

The Asset looks at him, feeling the order weighing down on him. But his finger does not move, and neither does Hawkeye, and the voices in his mind get louder:

(you must not harm the handler malfunction malfunction malFUNCTION)

(but Hawkeye knows you don’t kill him he can help you he can save you)

“Asset!” the handler yells, and the Asset---

The Asset does not comply.

He shoots the handler, three bullets to the head. More than necessary, but there is an anger burning in him and it feels good to do so. Then he turns back to Hawkeye, who is staring at him with wide eyes. “You know me,” he says again, and Hawkeye slowly nods. “Tell me why.”

“Let’s get out of here first,” he says, getting to his feet. “I know a safe place.”

Safe. The Asset does not remember the last time he was safe. He thinks it has been a very long time.

“Come on,” Hawkeye says, and he gathers up his weapons. “It’s not far, we can make it before sunrise.” He holds out a hand, and for a moment Bucky---the Asset, you are the Asset, who the hell is Bucky?---thinks he wants the gun. But then Hawkeye’s fingers wrap around his wrist, and he tugs gently. “Work with me, buddy. Come on.”

He should break his fingers, or pry him off. But no one has touched the Asset so gently in a long time either, and he finds himself going with it. “You will tell me,” he says, as Hawkeye pulls him over towards the door.

“Yeah,” Hawkeye says, his voice quiet. “I promise. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” He opens the door. “After you.”

And the Asset---or whoever he is now---complies.

[trillian-anders]

suspect - iv

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: descriptive violence, graphic descriptions of crime scenes, angst, slow burn

word count: 3k

description: au detective!bucky barnes x investigative journalist!reader;

still wet behind his ears, detective barnes is given his very first homicide case, a woman no one seems to care about had been murdered. it’s only when investigative journalist reader brings the small details to his attention that he realizes there’s a bigger problem. a serial killer no one was paying attention to.

When the police questioned you after your Mother’s death you just couldn’t remember. You were their only witness. And you couldn’t remember.

You’d been in your pajamas, eating cereal and watching cartoons. It was the middle of the day when your Mom answered the door. A man followed her in the house. You could hear them in the hallway. And then loud noises. You remember hearing your Mom scream. And then nothing. It was quiet.

And you were found days later with your Mom’s rotting corpse in the next room.

You shake it from your head.

“It’s not uncommon for you to blackout parts of your memory that are harmful,” Bucky sighs, “Especially as a child.” You traced the words in your notebook. It made you feel useless. Like you could have put the guy away maybe. The right guy. Because you know it’s not Fury. You know it entirely.

“I’ve been in therapy for years.” You explain, “Trying to uncover the memory, trying to work through it… it’s just gone.” He nods across from you, the plates empty, and check placed down between you. The exhaustion finally hits. And you’re tired.

“I should be getting the autopsy reports back in tomorrow.” He scrubs his face, “And then I’m sure I’ll have to report to Steve and get the go ahead to come to the group meeting.” With Rumlow, which gave you pause.

“You need to make sure he knows that these are all friends and family of murder victims.” Blunt and clear, Bucky looks at you from over his fingertips. “Rumlow… he can’t come into this group meeting and be an asshole to everyone.” A nod from him.

“I’ll have to talk to Steve about his behavior tonight too.” Crossing his arms and sitting back, “It was just unacceptable.” A nod as you both drift into silence. “Did you drive here?” You shake your head,

“I don’t live far.” As you both slip from the booth to walk outside.

“Let me drive you home.” He offers, tapping his fob, the headlights of his car flashing in front of you.

“It’s honestly like, two blocks.” You point with your hand in your pocket. He shrugs, tapping the fob again locking the car.

“We can walk then.” He was insistent and you honestly couldn’t blame him. You just didn’t want to make him feel inconvenienced about it. You knew this neighborhood, it was on the cusp of being in those bad parts of town, your apartment straddling the line. You could tell he was tired. Just in the way he walked beside you.

“You really didn’t have to.” You say, reaching the steps of your apartment building. You key in the code at the door and buzz in. He follows you inside.

“I do have to.” His voice raspy with fatigue, “It’s not safe out here, why do you even live here?” The cracked linoleum, the yellow fluorescent lights. You shrug, honestly you felt like maybe a nicer place wouldn’t feel right. You’d lived in places like this your entire life. Kicking your foot against the linoleum you look at him in the harsh light. The bags under his eyes.

“Convenient I guess.” He shrugs.

“Text me when you’re in your apartment,” Gesturing toward the elevator. “Let me know when you’re safe.” It warmed your heart a little bit, the concern. He smiles at you as the elevator doors shut, and keys tossed onto the kitchen counter, shoes kicked aside you collapse into your bed.

Thank you. You draft, I’ll see you tomorrow. Send.

See you then.

Bucky sighs, stepping from the apartment building and looking up the side, the various lit windows before trekking back to his car. Today was rough, but he had the feeling that tomorrow would be even worse.

The next day the precinct was buzzing with activity. A group at the front talking to a beat cop, arms crossed and somber. He met the eyes of one. A young man, eyes red and weepy, looking just as tired as Bucky felt. Walking back into the bullpen the normal workload seeming even heavier, everyone seemed to have three things to do and three more on the backburner. Rumlow in the back room was setting up a pin board with victim one and two. And a woman with short brown hair, arms crossed, sitting back on the conference table, watching him do it.

As he approached further, he could see the FBI badge on her hip. This must be her. The agent they’ve sent because they had to.

“Barnes.” Rumlow nods at him as he enters the room. “This is Agent Hill.” The woman stood from the desk, holding her hand out for him to shake.

“From the FBI.” She looks serious, like she has to be to survive in a world mostly ruled by men. Her handshake is firm. Bucky feels sorry that she had to put up with Rumlow without him as a buffer.

“Nice to meet you.” She gestures to the board Rumlow was still working on.

“Would you say this is accurate?” The two bodies photographed right below the pictures of both girls. Always that high school graduation picture, Cheryl’s one with her kids probably done at the mall. Bucky’s hand clenched around his coffee cup a little harder. Sighing, thinking briefly about how your Mom was once up on one of these boards.

It gave him a strange feeling he couldn’t quite cope with, so he tears his eyes away.

“Yeah,” A sip from his coffee cup, “That’s about right.” A long sigh. She nods,

“Have you talked to any of the girls on the street?” It pained Bucky to tell her yes,

“But they didn’t really want to talk to us.” Rumlow said as he pinned another picture up.

“They didn’t want to talk to you.” Bucky accused. Rumlow shot him a glare. Kind of like, how are you going to embarrass me like this? Something he’d for sure bring up later.

“Do we have any leads?” Agent Hill asked, exasperated, like she just walked into a giant mess. Bucky reasoned, she did. But then he remembered you, the diner last night.

“Yes.” He ignores the look from Rumlow. “An old police cruiser, one of the girls said she saw Cheryl get into a stripped old model police cruiser.” Agent Hill nods,

“Okay, so we will see which ones have gone to auction.” A shrug, “Go from there.”

Steve’s door was closed when Bucky approached it, a knock to enter. The ‘come in’ from behind the thick oak. Steve smiles at him sheepishly as Bucky opens the door, brushing the bagel crumbs off his shirt. Bucky notices how tired Steve looks, but not a hair out of place, the bags under his eyes show the fatigue.

“You doin’ alright?” Bucky asks, shutting the door and sinking down in the chair across from his friend. Steve sighs, running his hand through his hair. A bad habit he tried to keep himself from. Bucky watched him as he silently scolded himself for it and shook more sleep from his eyes.

“Yeah,” Gruff and unlike him usually, “Had a bit of an argument with Peg last night. She made me sleep on the couch.” Bucky barked a laugh, met with Steve’s glare.

“What did you do?” Steve rolled his eyes, “C’mon pal, I know you did something, Peg is a saint.” Steve gives him a tight smile,

“What do you want Buck?” A sigh, sinking further into the chair, Bucky looks around Steve’s office.

“Remember back in 2015 when you bought your Dad’s old cruiser?” Steve’s brow pulled together in confusion,

“Yeah, why?”

“Apparently our guy was driving one of them when he picked up Cheryl Hansen a few nights ago.” Steve sighed heavily, leaning back in his seat, thinking for a moment.

“An old police cruiser…” Shaking his head, “You’ll have to look through the old auction files,” A pause, “There were quite a few cars sent to auction.” On his fingers he counted, “I was gifted my Dad’s… I know Pierce took his old beat car, but so did a bunch of other higher ups.” A shrug, “A couple of the guys out there bought one for novelty, but I think about twenty went out for public auction.”

Bucky nods, “Okay, okay.” A tug on his lip, “We’re gonna pull the old files and see if we can start going around…” He looked across at his friend, “Is there any way you could get Rumlow assigned somewhere else?”

Steve laughed at that, “Already?” Sitting back in his chair, “I thought you would have at least stuck it out for the rest of the week.” Bucky rolled his eyes,

“The guy is a menace; I would get a girl to talk and here he would come and make some bullshit comment or stand too close.” A huff, “He’s holding me back.”

“He’s got more experience than you, Buck.” A half smirk, “And Pierce would have my head if I took him off, so I’m gonna have to say no. Anything else you want to ask?”

Bucky thought about you, a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, “That reporter that was in here a couple days ago… no listen.” He holds his hand out as Steve sets his jaw. “I think she could really help.”

“Buck—”

“She runs this relief fund for families of the victims, and they meet up once a month,” Resting his hand on the desk, “One is happening today, just give me the okay to go out there and question some of the families.” Steve seemed to debate it for a moment before lacing his hands over his belly.

“Pierce said no reporters.” Firm.

“But it’s not to give her information, it’s to interview people familiar to the old case.” Steve debated it a moment more before shaking his head with a sigh.

“Fine, but no statements better show up in the paper tomorrow.” Bucky grinned at his friend, Steve rolled his eyes, “I’m serious Buck.”

“I know you are.” That grin of satisfaction not leaving his face. Steve laughed,

“Now get out of my office.”

…

Wanda seemed in brighter spirits today as she lay out the food. Pietro carrying in boxes with the foil dishes while you set up the chairs and tables. Softly music played in the background. Just something to fill the silence as Wanda unwrapped dishes of cookies and lit sterno under dishes served hot. She jokes with you and Pietro about some show she was watching last night. Something you couldn’t ever be bothered to watch yourself, but you humored her as she talked about the drama that had unfolded between two couples.

People start arriving staggered. The early ones help you finish setting up, the ones coming in later met with raucous greeting from old friends. A lot of them with kids of their own. A table set up with crafts to keep them busy while their parents mingle and chat. Spouses here to support. Friends and people struck by the cause.

While it was your favorite day of the month, it was also the most tiring. A non-stop stream of greetings and hugs, marveling at how some kids have grown, wondering aloud about activities for them for next month and seeing what they would like.

But the questions you received the most, the reason for your high anxiety about this whole day, was…

“Is he back?”

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

“What should we do?”

And you just didn’t have an answer. Not yet. Not today. Not so soon. Sophie didn’t show, but then again you didn’t expect her to. It was far too soon. And Christine’s family didn’t have much to do with her anyway.

You looked for him, Bucky. You found your head turning towards the door every time you heard someone come in or out. The disappointment clear in it being someone coming back in from a smoke break was alarming and you weren’t quite sure why you were feeling this way. A paper cup with your name written on in sharpie with lemonade in it held in hand you continued to make your rounds, unaware that he’d even arrived until he sought you out.

“Hey.” Breathy and it sent a pleasant chill down your spine. Rumlow standing in the doorway with a woman you didn’t recognize. Your eyes meet Bucky’s and you couldn’t help the smile.

“Hey.”

He was in plainclothes. Not the normal button down and tie he was usually wearing. But something soft. Something you could imagine sticking your nose into. Something you had to shake from your head almost immediately. Hands in his pockets he looks around.

“Good turn out.” You agree, trying to get over him in jeans and a t-shirt.

“We stay pretty consistent.” You smile, “Today has been a good day considering… So, what did the autopsy reports say?” You see Rumlow and the other woman break off into the crowd, no doubt to try to get any information. He sighs,

“Sexual assault…” Shaking his head, “But no DNA left… and the fingers are being taken while they’re still alive, both of them anyway.” A heavy sigh. “They found no ketamine in Christine’s system, but I’m thinking that maybe because it was his first kill he wasn’t really thinking about it.”

“Yeah,” You take a sip of lemonade, “That’s probably it… what about the cars?”

“I’ve got the go ahead, we are having auction records pulled… we just need someone to talk now.” He looks around the room, “Someone has to know something.”

“You think maybe there’s another witness?” He shrugs,

“I mean it’s possible,” He licks his lips, “Do you think that girl you talked to would talk again?”

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly, “She wasn’t really comfortable even talking to me.” You watch him nod, “Do you want something to drink?” You lift your cup, he gives you a soft smile,

“Whaddya got?”

Wanda was over by the snack table, organizing and reorganizing. Getting rid of trays as they empty. You wished she would interact more, socialize and talk to people without the buffer of the table in between but this is what made her comfortable.

“Wanda.” She smiles softly and looks at the man beside you. “This is Detective Barnes.” The cracks there, as her smile slowly shifts into a frown and then back.

“Nice to meet you,” Holding out his hand for her to shake, which she doesn’t take. He nervously wipes it on his jeans.

“You’re going to stop him.” She says, voice shaking, “Right?” You set your cup down and step onto the other side of the table, gently placing your arms on hers.

“Wanda,” Her eyes focused on him, “Come on honey,” You look at Bucky whose face has pulled into sorrow. “I think you need a break.” Your eyes scan the crowd for Pietro, finding him flirting unabashedly with the woman who had entered with Bucky and Rumlow, sighing heavily, you gently begin to lead Wanda from the room.

“I’ll do everything I can.” Bucky’s voice firm with resolve from behind you. You cast him a glance over your shoulder as you bring Wanda into the back room, his eyes meeting yours and giving you a firm nod.

Maybe things would be different this time after all.

…

Bucky felt a guilt gnaw in his chest and he really looked around this room for the first time.

When he’d first entered, he’d been so focused on finding you. A happiness blooming in his chest as he watched you laugh with someone. A smile on your face as a little girl seemed to be telling you some animated story, amusing enough to make you full belly laugh twice before he began to make his way over to you. The luck of it being the girl parting with her father in tow as he reached you.

The flush in your cheeks just about did him in.

These people were happy, sure. As he looked around the room, he could see the smiles and cheeriness of those who have found solace in one another over such a deep rooted trauma. But there was a sadness there too.

For a moment he was proud of what you’d accomplished with this. Bringing all of these people together over what must have been your own guilt about your Mother’s death. What good had come out of it.

He couldn’t imagine, thinking about it, if his own Ma had been murdered. Let alone the brutality in those women’s last moments. The horror of it. It dried his mouth. It made his stomach churn and gave him the sudden urge to step outside and dial.

She picked up on the second ring, like she always did.

“Hi Ma.” Soft into the phone, like he was a little boy and just needed her at this moment.

“Jaime, what’s wrong?” Because she would immediately know. She would always immediately have known. He sighs,

“This new case I’m workin’ on…” He starts, “Just a little rough, I just needed to hear your voice.” She hums from the end of the line.

“Are you okay?” He rests his back against the brick of the building, tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth, ripping at the dead skin there.

“I think I will be,” Scrubbing his face with his hand, “It’s just… someone’s lost their mother.” A swallow, “Just wanted to call and tell you that I love you.”

“I love you too sweetheart.” It warmed his chest but made him ache at the same time. You were how old when you lost your Mom?

You never got to do this. You could never call her when you were feeling upset. You could never just pop in to go see her and she would never make your favorite food just to cheer you up.

Something sat raw and acidic in Bucky’s gut, something he knew he wouldn’t be able to shake until this guy was behind bars.

“Come see me when you can, okay?” His Ma’s voice, sweet and comforting. He closes his eyes, resting his head against the brick and fights back the tears of grief he feels for you.

“Okay.”