#steve x rumlow

[steverumlow]

[breadtheft1796]

looking for a very specific type of sheildbones fanfic with rumlow and the steve from the messed up 2012 timeline who’s having to deal with the consequences of his time travelling counterpart whispering ‘hail hydra’ into sitwell’s ear. or just an au where rumlow gets closer to steve thinking he’s hydra (with some nice hydra-esque hazing).

[literaryavenger]

Captain America: The Winter Soldier

Summary: You're part of the Strike team and join Captain America as he tries to live his new life in the 21st century. [Reader is NOT Hydra]

Pairing: platonic!Steve Rogers x F!Reader, platonic!Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Warnings: Language. Rumlow being a dick. Mentions of death. My poor attempts at being funny. Idk, everything else in the movie?

Word Count: 2.7K

A/N: Happy New Year! This the first chapter in a new series I'm starting! I'm not sure how long it's gonna be yet, but I know it's gonna be longer than Broken. These series is about an alternate universe where the reader exists and lives through the events that happen in the MCU. A lot of the details will be changed to insert the reader, a lot of the lines said by other characters will be changed to be the reader's and I've also made up a lot of things and scenes and added them, trying my best not to change the official timeline and the main events. I hope you enjoy this and all chapters to come!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“You heard the boss, newbie, text Romanoff and tell her to pick up Rogers.” Rumlow taps his knuckles twice on the table for emphasis before getting up and exiting the conference room.

You make sure he doesn't miss the way you roll your eyes at the now old nickname before writing ‘New mission, need you at the jet in one hour. Asshole wants you to pick up the old man in spandex’ on your phone and sending the message to Natasha, then you get up and make your way out of the room.

“Armory.” you say as you enter the elevator. 

“Confirmed.” the elevator voice says as the doors start closing. 

You suit up for the mission just assigned by Pierce and go to the jet to start doing the checkups you know the rest of the idiots on the STRIKE team won’t even think about doing. 

After making sure everything’s ready and in order, you can do nothing more than wait for everybody else.

Natasha and Steve get there exactly an hour after your text. 

“Right on time.” you point out.

“It wasn’t a coincidence, YLN.” Natasha smirks, making you laugh.

“Cap.” you greet him with a smile that he returns. “Y/N.”

The rest of the team meets you a few minutes after. “Ready for take off.” Rumlow says to the pilot and the jet takes off.

Once you get close to the target Rumlow starts briefing Steve and Nat. “The target is a mobile satellite launch platform: The Lemurian Star. They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them, 93 minutes ago.”

“Any demands?” Steve asks.

“A billion and a half.” Rumlow answers.

“Why so steep?” Steve questions frowning.

“Because it’s Shield’s.” you answer promptly, ignoring the scowl on Rumlow’s face that disappears almost immediately.

“So it’s not off-course,” Steve says, understanding flashing in his eyes as he glares at Natasha “it’s trespassing.”

“I’m sure they have a good reason.” Natasha offers.

“You know, I’m getting a little tired of being Fury’s janitor.”-Steve seems really annoyed now.

“Relax, it’s not that complicated.” Natasha simply says.

“How many pirates?” Steve’s attention is back on the screen.

“Twenty-five, top mercs, led by this guy. Georges Batroc.” Rumlow pulls up the photo of Batroc on the monitor and looks at you expectantly, making you roll your eyes.

Of course you’re the only one who actually looked through the files.

“Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He’s at the top of Interpol's Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. The guy’s got a rep for maximum casualties.” you fill everybody in, although it was obvious most of the guys aren't listening. At least the Captain is.

“Hostages?” Steve questions you, but Rumlow cuts in.

“Mostly techs. One officer, Jasper Sitwell.” he shows his picture. You’ve seen Sitwell around headquarters, he seems pretty close with the STRIKE team. Not that you hang out much with them outside of mission, or at all for that matter. “They’re in the gallery.”

“What’s Sitwell doing on a launch ship?” Steve asks more to himself, and he has a point. “Alright, I’m gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat and Y/N, you’ll kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep aft, find the hostages, get them to the life-pots, get ‘em out. Let’s move.”

Yep, he’s definitely in Captain mode.

“Ay ay, Captain.” you salute with a smirk that mirrors Natasha’s while Steve gives you a fake annoyed look.

“STRIKE, you heard the Cap. Gear up.” Rumlow says but you’ve already started getting ready and stopped listening to him.

“Secure channel seven.” Steve says into his wrist communicator.

“Seven secure.” Natasha replies. “Did you do anything fun Saturday night?”

“Well, all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead, so… No, not really.” Steve answers, making both you and Natasha laugh while the pilot lets you know that the drop zone is coming up.

“You know, if you ask Kristen out, from Statistics, she’d probably say yes.” you point out, exchanging a knowing glance with Natasha.

“That’s why I don’t ask.” he fires back

“Too shy or too scared?” Natasha pushes.

“Too busy!” He yells over the wind as the door opens and then he jumps. 

You and Natasha both roll your eyes and look at each other smiling, not needing to talk to understand the other.

You barely register Rumlow and Rollins commenting on Steve jumping without a parachute before grabbing one for yourself and jumping alongside Nat.

You and Natasha have known each other for a while now, all the way back since she was first brought in by Clint.

You trained with both of them, went on countless missions together (yes, including Budapest) and you would’ve been right by their side in New York if you hadn't been on an important undercover mission and had strict orders directly from Fury not to blow your cover.

After that you got assigned to the STRIKE team by Alexander Pierce, though you still have no idea why. But orders are orders so you’ve been working with the idiots ever since.

But you and Natasha are thankfully still pretty close and your down time is spent mostly with her, sometimes also visiting Clint and his family at his farm.

 Nat’s still annoyed at Clint about naming his only daughter after you, middle name but still, and not her. But to be fair, you have known Clint longer, a fact that always amuses both you and Clint to bring up.

You’ve just landed when you hear Rumlow saying “you seemed pretty helpless without me” to Steve.

“What about the nurse who lives across the hall from you?” Natasha says.

“Yeah, she seems nice.” you add.

“Secure the engines, then find me a date.” Steve says in his captain voice.

“We’re multitasking.” Nat tells him before turning to you. “you take port, I’ll take starboard and we’ll meet at the rendezvous point”

“Copy.” you say and make your way to the engine room on the right side of the ship. You start taking down guys and can hear Rumlow saying they’re ready in position.

Just as you finish with the last guy you hear Steve calling your name. “What’s your status?”

“Port engine room secure.” you answer.

“Good, make your way to help Rumlow with the hostages.”

“Roger that.” you can almost hear him groan in annoyance as you smile while following his orders.

“Natasha, what’s your status?” you can hear her grunt while she fights through the comms. “Status, Natasha?” 

“Hang on!” She says as she keeps fighting. “Starboard engine room secure.”

You hear Steve countdown from three and then the team moving in on the targets, you get to the rendezvous point just in time to see Rumlow rounding the corner with the hostages on his tail.

“Hostages en route to extradition.” he says in his comms as you look around for Natasha.

“Romanoff missed the rendezvous point, Cap. Hostiles are still in play.” you let Steve know while helping take care of the hostages.

“Natasha, Batroc’s on the move. Circle back to Y/N and protect the hostages.” he receives no answer and at this point you get a little worried. “Natasha!”

You want to go looking for her but you know better than to leave your post, and you’re also very aware that Natasha can take care of herself. 

So you keep protecting the hostages while listening intently to the comms where you can hear Steve fight, then you hear a voice you assume it’s Batroc’s talking French and are even more surprised to hear Steve answer back in French. Impressive.

You can hear him fighting again and then you finally hear Natasha’s voice but don’t pay too much attention to the conversation, bringing your entire focus on the hostages now that you know she’s okay. 

You’re helping people into the life-pods when you hear an explosion go off somewhere on the boat. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until you hear Natasha’s voice again and let it go, feeling even more relieved after hearing Steve too.

The ride back is very uncomfortable as you help Natasha with the minor injuries from the explosion, Steve refusing help and insisting that he’s fine, and in the mood he’s in you’re certainly not about to argue. 

As soon as the jet lands he stomps away angrily and you share a concerned look with Natasha, worried about what he’s gonna do next. 

You help Nat to the medbay and leave her there when she assures you she’s okay and to not make a fuss over her.

So you make your way to the usual conference room for debriefing but when you get there Rumlow very smugly assures you that you’re not needed at this meeting. 

You’re used to being left out of meetings with the STRIKE team and Pierce by now, since you’ve been forced to join you’ve been left out of more meetings that you’ve attended, but it still bothers you sometimes.

Still, at least you don’t have to spend too much time with those neanderthals. Not your circus, not your monkeys.

So you just make your way to the Armory to put away your gear and then the locker room to change and go home for what you think is gonna be the rest of the day.

-

A few hours later you find yourself in the hospital where the STRIKE team has been called in the middle of the night because, guess what? Someone tried to kill Director Fury. Or, as it turns out, succeeded. 

You’re behind Steve, Natasha and Hill alongside Rumlow and Sitwell, watching Fury flatlining and the doctors calling it.

You want to go with Nat to see Fury, be there for her knowing she cared about him as much as you do, but obviously Rumlow has to be a dick and order you to stay put. And, whether you like it or not, he’s your boss.

He rudely interrupts Nat and Steve’s conversation telling him they need him back at headquarters and you can already tell something’s suddenly off.

As much as Rumlow can be an asshole, he’s never been openly rude towards Steve.

You can hear Sitwell in your earpiece telling the team to bring Rogers in for questioning as he and Rumlow get closer.

“STRIKE, move it out.” he orders but you don't start moving until Steve’s by your side, giving him what you hope is a reassuring smile. 

When you get to the Triskelion Steve is taken to Pierce’s office and you get ordered to go to Forensics and check into the evidence found on the roof, then go to Operations Control and wait for there for further instructions, so you do. 

When you get to the control room you see Sitwell concentrated on a particular screen so you get close trying not to get noticed and see Steve fighting STRIKE and SHIELD agents in the elevator. 

You barely have time to understand what’s happening before he’s throwing himself off the elevator and lands on his shield near the entrance of the building. Thankfully Sitwell’s “Are you kidding me?” covered your quiet “holy shit.”

You’re in the room when Sitwell gives the orders to track down Rogers to all the Agents and when he’s done, you discreetly follow him and the rest of the STRIKE team out the room.

For a bunch of guys who work for a top secret organization they sure suck at knowing when they’re being followed. 

No one talks until they get to a deserted corridor. “Pierce is going to kill us. Rogers has the flash drive and can use it to find Zola. You fucked up big time letting him go.” Sitwell sounds pissed.

“Take it easy, four eyes.” Rumlow sounds just as angry “You’re not the one that got punched by a supersoldier.”

They keep talking about the flash drive and Steve and Pierce and Zola. That name sounds familiar but you can’t remember for the life of you where you heard it from.

Then it hits you.

Zola was a former Hydra scientist from World War II, turned ally when the war ended. Thank god the Howling Commandos were hot so you actually paid attention during that particular history class. 

You're about to turn away so you won’t risk getting caught eavesdropping when you hear your name being mentioned.

“Someone should keep an eye on her.” Sitwell says, making you worried of becoming the next Shield target, but Rumlow proceeds to ease your worries.

“That’s a waste of manpower. The whole reason she’s even on our team was so we could keep a closer eye on Rogers, but she just spends all her time with Romanoff.” 

So that’s why Pierce assigned you to the STRIKE team.

Yeah, you’re closer to Steve than most people but it’s not like you’re best friends, you sometimes hang out outside of work but most of your interactions are mission related.

You decide you've heard enough to kind of put together what’s going on, but there’s not much you can do to help Steve yet, not knowing where he is. So you stick to following the STRIKE team, praying that your absence in the control room goes unnoticed. 

STRIKE gets a hit on Steve’s location and you follow them in your car to a mall but think better than to follow them in, waiting patiently outside. 

After a few minutes you see Steve and Natasha in their not so well thought out undercover outfits and, once again, the Captain surprises you by hot-wiring a car. 

You follow them, more discreetly this time, knowing Natasha and Steve would be better at realizing they’re being followed. 

You get to an old army camp in Wheaton, New Jersey and are about to follow them in and make yourself known to them, but before you can get out of your car you hear the plan the STRIKE team has through your comms.

The idiots never even thought about using a different channel. Of course Rumlow would underestimate you this much. 

So you decide to drive deeper into the trees surrounding the camp to make sure you’re not visible and wait, knowing Steve and Natasha will need a fast getaway. 

You can do nothing more than watch as a missile hits the bunker and the helicopters start coming. You want to go and help them, make sure they're okay, but you will yourself to stay put and not give away your position. 

When you can faintly see Steve’s figure, almost running with what looks like Nat in his arms, you finally turn the car on and drive coming to a stop right in front of him and startling him to a stop on his tracks.

“Get in.” you urge him, and he seems wary of you, rightly so. “Come on, Cap, they can’t know I’m here!”

He seems to decide to risk trusting you and delicately sets an unconscious Nat down in the back seat before getting in the passenger’s seat.

As soon as his door is closed you drive away as fast as you can, heading back to Washington and you can feel Steve’s eyes on you.

“How do I know I can trust you?” he finally says after a minute of silence, his eyes never leaving you. “You’re part of them, after all.”

“I can see where you’re coming from, but trust me I’m not one of them.” You glance at him and you can tell that he’s not convinced yet, so you go on. “I didn’t even know who ‘them’ were before today. Apparently the reason Pierce assigned me to the STRIKE team was in hopes to get closer to you. He overestimated how close we actually are. If Natasha was awake right now she would tell you how much I hate working with those assholes… You can trust me.”

You take a look at the rearview mirror and see Natasha, but her relaxed face does nothing to ease your worries. 

Steve seems to pick up on your concerns as his features soften and, ever the hopelessly optimistic, he chooses to believe you.

“Okay,” he says, “what do we do now?”

“We have to get you somewhere safe” you check your mirrors as much as you can, making sure you’re not being followed “I don’t know any safehouses outside of Shield's radar. We need a place we can go that they know nothing about.”

“I have an idea.” he says, you glance at him and see him already looking at you, so you nod.

[saiyanprincessswanie]

SaiyanPrincessSwanie Reading List Week 195 & 196

A/N: Thank you again to those who gave me recommendations for fanfics. 💜 This week had me reading 35 fics. Absolutely amazing stuff here.

As always these will be listed in no particular order. None of these stories are mine. I’m just signal-boosting them. The author is listed next to the title. My goal is to signal boost writers and spread positivity in the community.  💜💜

Click HERE to see what I will or won’t read. This is very important.

Click HERE for past reading lists.

For my Masterlist click HERE.

Please make sure you’re reading the warnings on every story. They range from dark to fluff. Do Not Read if you are under 18 years old. These stories are meant for adults only. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.

Page-break by @whimsicalrogers

Header by @fictional-affairs

If you can, please reblog these lists so they can reach more people on Tumblr.

I love you 3000 💜 Missy

Morning Cravings - (Steve x Reader) - @saiyanprincessswanie

Ethereal Part 5 - (Ari x Reader) - @labella420

Thoughts - (Brock) - @nekoannie-chan

Revenge - (Brock) - @nekoannie-chan

Late Night - (Andy x Reader) - @katherineswritingsblog

It Was Sunday - (Bucky x Reader) - @ellemj

Wrecked (Part 3) - (Frank x Reader, Billy x Reader) - @tuiccim

Competition 2.0 - (Lloyd x Reader, God the Bounty Hunter x Reader) - @holylulusworld

Love and Flowers - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Ethereal Part 6 - (Ari x Reader) - @labella420

Reconnect - We’ll Always Be Friends - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Switched Sides part 5 - @deliciousangelfestival

Flood - (Bucky x Reader x Steve) - @biteofcherry

Alone again - (Jack R) - @nekoannie-chan

Evermore: Prologue - (Ari x Reader, Andy x Reader) - @joannaliceevans-fanficblog

Evermore: Part. One - (Ari x Reader, Andy x Reader) - @joannaliceevans-fanficblog

Lost in the Dark (Part 2) - (Bucky x Reader) - @tuiccim

Helicarrier - (Steve) - @nekoannie-chan

Your Mark On Me - Part 7 - (Steve x Reader) - @georgiapeach30513

Monkey See, Monkey Do - Chapter 15 - @spectre-posts @what-is-your-plan-today

Indecent Proposal (1) - (Stucky x Reader)- @holylulusworld

Promises To Keep - (Andy x Reader) - @americasass81

Winning - (Brock x Reader, Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Advantages - @nekoannie-chan

The Tarzan to my Jane - (Ari x Reader) - @nicoline1998enilocin

Release Me Pt. 4 - (Andy x Reader) - @labella420

Opportunity - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

In the Boss’s Grip - (Ari x Reader) - @labella420

Teased and Tied - (Bucky x Reader) - @rookthorne

Aftermath - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Two Bosses Part 11 - (Ransom x Reader) - @labella420

Wrecked (Part 4) - (Frank x Reader, Billy x Reader) - @tuiccim

Just Like That - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Collared part 39 - @spnexploration

Collared part 40 - @spnexploration

[ethereal--muse]

𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝: 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭. 𝘕𝘰𝘸, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭...𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘦...

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬: Marvel AU x Outerbanks AU

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: tony stark x daughter!reader; steve rogers x reader; DARK! brocj rumlow x reader; dark-ish! rafe cameron x reader; ward cameron x brock rumlow (platonic); bucky barnes x reader (platonic; maybe romantic later)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: noncon; sexual violence, physical violence; mental abuse; verbal abuse; age gap (reader is turning 20 in future chapters while Rumlow is in his early-fifties); pre-civil war; blood; violence; choking; talks of murder; politics i know nothing about lol. 𝗜𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝘂𝗽𝘀𝗲𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗗𝗡𝗜

𝐚/𝐧: reblogs, comments and asks are always welcomed. 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴. pls send me more requests <3

{𝐂𝐡. 𝐈}

{𝐂𝐡. 𝐈𝐈}

{𝐂𝐡. 𝐈𝐈𝐈}

{𝐂𝐡. 𝐈𝐕}

[buckyalpine]

Pretty Little Thing Part 9

18+ Minors dni

Mob!Bucky x f reader, Rumlow x reader (forced marriage)

Other characters: Sam, Peter, Steve, Thor, Nat, Clint, Loki, Walker

Here is part 9. Things come to a head when Rumlow took back what’s his, but were you ever really his to being with? Also time for a character reveal. 

Warnings: forced abusive marriage, cheating, swearing, violence, kidnapping, fluff

(Some bits of this felt a little rushed but I really wanted to get this part out because I’m also working on part 10!) 

Word count: 2.4k

Part 8 

If Rumlow wanted to come after you, then he should have come after him.  

Bucky replayed the video from the security footage around his property. Rage pumped through his veins, seeing your limp body tossed over Rumlow’s shoulder, throwing you into a van and screeching off. You were supposed to be safe with him. The clicks of guns and the sound of loading of bullets filled the room as the rest of the team suited up to come find you; Bucky was done with peace. He tucked his gun in the waistband of his pants, the screen of his phone lighting up with Nat’s number.

“We already checked two of his other warehouses, they’re empty. He might’ve taken her to the storage at the docks; Barton and I are headed there now”

Sam, Thor and Steve followed Bucky out of his office, making their way to the vans where Peter was already waiting, his jaw ticking.

“Peter, stay here with May” Bucky was about to send him back inside, but Peter shook his head, his stance unwavering. “Parker, it’ll be danger-

“No, I’m coming” He shrugged, pulling away and climbing into one of the SUV’s, impatiently waiting to put a bullet through someone. Steve could tell by the way Bucky swallowed thickly, something was eating at him. He twirled his knife between his fingers, a habit it picked up when he got nervous.

“Spit it out punk”

Bucky shook his head but Steve gave him a pointed look, staying rooted in place until his best friend told him what he was thinking.

“I love her” 

“Mind telling me something, everyone wasn’t already aware of”  Steve snorted, shaking his head.

“If anything happens…make sure she’s taken care of. Save her first”

Steve wanted to argue and tell him everything would be fine but he knew it was pointless. He nodded while Bucky’s jaw clenched as everyone else jointed, ready to leave.

“I’m killing him” Bucky’s voice was a growl, his body tense while Steve gave his shoulder a squeeze as they got into the back, the SUV doors slamming shut.

“C’mon, let’s go get your girl”

*****

Loki and Walker looked at each other while Rumlow paced around the room, growing more and more unhinged by the second. He had all his men surround the building, while Loki and Walker were assigned to guard you. He grinned, watching your eyes flutter open, your head throbbing from the sedatives he pumped you with.

“My pretty little thing”

You winced, your hands numb from the harsh ropes digging tightly into your skin. You were tied to a metal beam in the middle of a warehouse, the walls made entirely from concrete; no one would hear you scream. The faint smell of metallic copper and alcohol lingered in the air; you knew exactly where you were. His favourite place for business deals. The easiest place to dispose bodies. You felt bile rise in your throat as he brushed his lips against your temple, his body pressing against yours.

“Did you miss me doll?” You refused to meet his eyes even when he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. A permanent scar ran down his face from when you had hit his face with a bottle. His hot breath fanned on your, groaning as he inhaled the lingering scent of your perfume. “You smell good, so good.  Look at what you started sweetheart, this mess I have to clean up, all because you couldn’t keep your legs closed” Rumlow tsked, his thumb caressing your cheek. “I lost a few of my men already, all just for you”

“This isn’t my fau-

The sound of his hand slapping your cheek echoed through the room, his chest heaving. You wanted to spit in his face, tears stinging your eyes, your skin hot from where his palm met your cheek.

“It is your fucking fault” He hissed, his teeth grazing your cheek. “You’re MY wife, MINE. YOU’RE MARRIED TO ME, I’D RATHER SEE YOU DEAD THAN LET HIM HAVE YOU” Walker flinched, watching Rumlow raise his hand to strike you again but Loki grabbed his wrist before he could touch you.

“If you kill her now, we lose leverage” He whispered, tugging Rumlow a few steps away from you. You rolled your eyes, smirking to yourself, enjoying the reactions you got from him. If you were going to die, might as well make him suffer too.

“He. Can’t. Have. YOU” Rumlow growled, his hands balled into fists; he knew he had to keep you alive until Bucky got there but he wanted to wrap his hands around your throat so badly, flashes of you spread out and moaning for him clouding his mind.

“He’s already had me” You sneered, licking off a drop of blood that tinged your lips. “I might be married to you but it’s him that I want”

“Boss don’t let her get to you” Walker warned, hearing the screeching of tires approaching the area. His heart was already racing, he knew he’d signed up for many things but dealing with Bucky’s blood lust wasn’t one of them. Loki grabbed Rumlow and held him back while you continued to taunt him, not holding back on a single thing you let Bucky do to you.

“You know I let him cum wherever he wants, dripping all over his bed”

“You better stop y/n” Rumlow hissed, but you didn’t care, your eyes locked with his.

“I know how he tastes”

“You fucking whore” Loki had to drag him back as he tried to lunge for you again, his hand desperate to reach for his gun.

“I let him fuck me the first time I stayed with him. He didn’t even have to ask”

“YOU FUCKING BITCH-”  Before he could fight Loki to get to you, the faint sound of gun shots caught his attention, pulling away from Loki, his lips curving upwards. “You’re little boytoy is here” He sneered, locking and loading his gun, striding over to grasp your face in his hands.

“First I’m going to kill him in front of you” His lips brushed your cheek, while his other hand trailed down your body, grasping the soft flesh of your thighs. His breath fanned on your neck, moving to whisper in your ear, gripping the back of your hair “then I’ll show you how a real man fucks”

*****

“PARKER, WILSON, GO COVER THE NORTHERN SIDE” Steve shot down the men that charged towards them while Bucky shot two perfect rounds into the two guards at the front, before taking down a few more of Rumlow’s men. There was no slow build up; as soon as the cars screeched to a halt, the echoing of bullets rang through the air. Sam and Peter sprinted off to the front of the warehouse; Peter was going to make use of every single bullet he loaded without leaving any to spare. Nat and Clint had already covered the south wing while Thor and Steve joined Bucky’s side, searching for you.

The three men made their way down the dimly lit hall way, straight to the main metal doors that led to the center of the warehouse. Bucky had never felt fear and anger like this before, where he could feel his blood coursing through his body. He didn’t care what happened to him, killing Rumlow was a secondary issue; he just needed to see you alive and breathing.

As soon as they reached the doors, he burst through them, chest heaving, jaw clenched. You were the first thing his eyes fell on; you were alive. Cuts and bruises littering your body, you clothes were nearly in shreds. He couldn’t stand the way you were tied up, dark bruises from where Rumlow had his hands on you scattered on your arms and thighs but right now all that mattered to him was that you were alive. Loki stood near you while Walker joined Rumlow’s side. Rumlow grinned at the three men, his mind conflicting between killing Bucky on the spot or making him watch while he took you apart. 

“Are you here for someone Barnes”

“My girl” 

Walker felt an eerie chill watching Bucky silently stalk towards them, his eyes completely dark, void of emotion. His finger was already on the trigger, itching to put a bullet in Rumlow’s mouth but he wasn’t going to risk anything with you still there. Ironically, Rumlow felt the same; he couldn’t have you die in a shoot out when he didn’t get his way with you yet. His eyes switched between Steve, Thor and Bucky, all three men armed. He had to get you out first, before killing them off. 

“Loki, take y/n, GO, GET OUT”  Rumlow commanded, unwilling to let Bucky or any of his men rescue you when he finally got you back. He kept his eyes locked on Bucky, his chest heaving when he continued to stalk towards him. “Banres, don’t take another ste-

Rumlow whipped his gun out, his blood running cold when he heard the click of a pistol from behind him, the cold metal suddenly against his temple. Loki pressed it against Rumlow’s head, his lips curved upward into a smirk.

“Loki, what the fuck are you doing” He hissed, his eyes growing wide, feeling the barrel press further into his skin.

“I’m simply doing as I was asked” Loki smiled, while Walkers eyes grew wide, swallowing thickly, leaving Rumlow’s side and inching towards the door. 

“Brother” Thor nodded at Loki, before blocking the exist, preventing Walker from escaping.

“Who the fuck asked you to do this” Rumlow spat, his blood running cold at the satisfied smirk Bucky had on his face. 

“My boss James Barnes” Loki whispered, nearly cackling, he could practically hear Rumlow’s heart race “I don’t suppose you looked into my last name”

“Laufeyson” Rumlow growled through gritted teeth, his empire slipping from under his teeth. 

“I see you never heard of the Odinson brothers” Loki tsked, while Thor snorted as his brothers mischief. “Now drop the guns”

How anger surged through Rumlow, dropping the gun on the floor while Loki kicked it over and stepped aside, allowing Bucky to have his way. Steve rushed over to you, taking you off to the side while Bucky finally lunged for Rumlow. Sam and Peter ran into the warehouse having cleared what was left of the other guards. 

“You shouldn’t have taken her” Bucky threw a punch to his jaw, earning a satisfying crack, while Rumlows rings cut through his cheek. Bucky kicked him from under, sending him to the floor, unable to hold back anything any longer. 

He hurt you.

Bucky’s fist connected with his face repeatedly. 

Took you from him. 

Abused you. 

He made sure Rumlow’s vision was clouded with blood, he didn’t even have the right to look at you. 

His sweet baby.

You didn’t deserve any of this.

He broke each of his fingers with a satisfying snap, the pained cries only adding to his satisfaction. 

He’d never let that monster touch you again. 

“This ends now-

Bucky winced, feeling the knife slice into his side as Walker plunged it into him  before getting shot down by Peter. 

“You’ll- Rumlow grinned, blood staining his teeth.”-You’ll never get my wife” he hissed, gasping for air when Bucky’s hand wrapped around his throat. “I’m-I’m the one that-the on that married her” 

“You may have married her but I love her” Bucky threw Rumlow to the floor, catching the gun Steve tossed to him, pointing it between Rumlow’s eyes. “You’re never hurting her again” 

5 bullets. 1 would have been enough but the  4 were just to be sure. 

“Dispose of him” Bucky ordered, while Sam and Peter happily dragged Rumlow’s lifeless form off to the side of the warehouse. Bucky ran to you where you sat with Steve, tears streaming down your face looking at the blood that soaked his side. 

“M’here baby, look at me Angel, you’re safe”

“James!” You were hardly able to stand, but you pushed yourself to your feet, your hand pressing against the gash on his side. “You got hurt because of me-

“Shhhh, y/n, careful” His arms wrapped around you, slipping his blazer off and wrapping it around your body. You tried hard to stay standing, your knees giving way, letting him scoop you in his arms, setting you down on one of the crates.  “I’m here for you angel”

He looked over your body to see if there were any injuries he missed, but you were impatient. You just wanted to be in his arms again and take care of the cuts that now littered his body. 

“James, please, you’re bleeding” You tried to plead with him but he smiled softly at you, carrying you in his arms again. 

“Hardly a scratch angel” Your arms clung around his neck, breathing in his scent, hot tears flowing down your cheeks as he carried you back to the van. “Lets go home doll”

You could finally go home. 

He was your new home. 

Steve, and the rest followed behind while you clung onto him for dear life, refusing to let go, sitting in his lap as he sat in the back. You were joined with Thor, Peter and Loki while Sam sat at the front with Steve. Your heart raced, seeing the man who Rumlow had guard your locked room for days. Granted, something about him never made you feel unsafe. You remembered the many times he had stepped in before Rumlow could touch you. Bucky felt your body tremble slightly, rubbing your back soothingly, kissing your forehead. 

“I sent Loki to watch over you angel. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I needed to know what he was doing to you” You peeked over at the man with dark raven hair, an apologetic smile gracing his face. 

“James sent me to watch over you after Rumlow locked you away. I apologize for not telling you anything or being able to do more. We didn’t want him growing suspicious and endanger you” 

“Thank you” You whispered, snuggling further in Bucky’s hold. Nothing mattered as long as you were with him again. You knew he would keep you safe. You fell asleep, tucked in his arms, stirring awake again when you felt the cool night air hit your skin. He held you close to him, carrying you up the drive way and through the doors of his home, taking you right to his room so he could take care of you. Just like he always did. 

“Welcome home my sweet doll” 

Tags:

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[sleeplessmidnight26]

Masterlist

List of all my stories available on my AO3 account

My Love Is True Series (Stony, Superfamily)

Before He Cheats - Rating: E, 50 Chapters, Warnings: Rape/Non-con

Our Love Grows Stronger - Rating: E, 46 Chapters, Warnings: N/A

This Is Me Trying - Rating E, 45 Chapters, Warnings: Rape/Non-con

Before He Cheats: What If - Rating: E, 17 Chapters, Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con

The Break Up One Shot Series (Stony)

I Can Do This With A Broken Heart - Rating: E, Warnings: N/A

Down Bad - Rating: E, Warnings: N/A

So High School - Rating: E, Warnings: N/A

One Shots

Bananas Practice Safe Sex - Rating: E, Warnings: Underage, (Stony, SamBucky)

Breathe - Rating: G, Warnings: N/A (Stony)

Catching Feelings - Rating: M, Warnings: N/A (SamBucky)

Driving Lessons - Rating: T, Warnings: N/A (Stony, SamBucky)

Everything Burger - Rating: E, Warnings: N/A (Stony)

Gone Gone Gone - Rating: E, Warnings: N/A (Stony, Peter/Bucky) - COMING May 30, 2024

I Can See You - Rating: G, Warnings: N/A (Stony)

Isn't It Obvious - Rating: G, Warnings: N/A (Stony)

Just Pretend - Rating: E, Warnings: N/A (Stony)

Lego House - Rating G, Warnings: N/A (Stucky) - COMING May 29, 2024

Like Father Like Son - Rating: E, Warnings: N/A (Stony, SteveXHoward)

Pancake Surprise - Rating G, Warnings: N/A (Stony) co-author: @snazzyerin

Pregnancy Hobby - Rating G, Warnings: N/A (Stony)

You Took My Breath Away - Rating M, Warnings: N/A (Stony)

Multi Chapter

A Litte Bit Longer - Rating: T, 8 Chapters, Warnings: N/A (Stony)

All Things Lost - Rating: E, 20 Chapters, Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage (Stony)

As Long As You Love Me - Rating: E, 27 Chapter, Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage (Stony, WinterWidow)

Beautiful Soul - Rating: M, 10 Chapters, Warnings: N/A (Stony)

Beautiful Things - Rating E, current WIP, Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Graphic Depictions of Violence. (Stony, Peter/Bucky) -COMING May 28, 2024

Beautiful Trauma - Rating: E, 50 Chapters, Warnings: Rape/Non-con, Underage (Stony)

Criminal - Rating: E, 32 Chapters, Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con (Stony, WinterHawk)

Family Portrait - Rating: E, current WIP, Warnings: N/A (Stony, SamBucky)

Gimme Shelter - Rating: E, 9 Chapters, Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage (Stony, SamBucky)

I Kissed a Boy - Rating: E, current WIP, Warnings: N/A (Stony, Pepperony, Sharon x Steve)

Illicit Affairs - Rating: E, 25 Chapters, Warnings: N/A (Stony, SamBucky)

Jericho - Rating: E, 4 Chapters, Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage (Stony, Superfamily)

Lose You To Love Me - Rating: E, current WIP, Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence (Stony)

Never Too Late - Rating: E, current WIP, Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con (Stony)

Prepare You - Rating: E, 5 Chapters, Warnings: MCD (Stony, Superfamily)

Skin and Bones - Rating: E, current WIP, Warnings: N/A (Stony)

They Don’t Know About Us - Rating: E, current WIP, Warnings: N/A (Bucky/Peter, Stony)

Unexpected True Mates - Rating: E, 12 Chapters, Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage (Stony)

We Are Never Getting Back Together - Rating: E, current WIP, Warnings: N/A (Stony)

You Make It Feel Like Christmas - Rating: M, 25 Chapters, Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence (Stony)

You're Safe Now - Rating: E, 95 Chapters, Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Graphic Depictions of Violence (ShieldBones, Stony)

You Shook Me All Night Long - Rating: E, current WIP, Warnings: N/A (Stuckony)

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Breeding the Winter Soldier"

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 7893

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: a/b/o, Omega Bucky, Alpha Steve, Hydra wins, dark AU, forced mating, breeding program, coerced sex, restraints, heats/ruts, forced to fuck, past Bucky x Brock, HTP adjacent, mind control, anal sex, hurt/comfort (mostly comfort)

A.N.: this was written all the way back in 2017!

Breeding the Winter Soldier

“Looks like they gave Cap his assignment,” Rollins chuckles from where he’s sitting, boots propped up on the observation room’s control panel. “Doesn’t seem too happy about being told he’s gotta breed ‘im.”

Brock scoffs lightly, unable to help himself from lighting up out of frustration as he stares through the one-way glass window at their prisoner. Smoking isn’t allowed inside the facility, but that’s never stopped Brock. “This is bullshit,” he complains around the cigarette between his lips, tossing the spent match to the floor as he gets a good first lungful of nicotine. Beyond the window, Captain fucking America—or what used to be Captain America— is pacing, pacing, pacing, distressed at the news. Brock seethes quietly. “Project Genesis is mine. He was supposed to be mine.”

And now Steven Grant Rogers is the one they want instead. The superior choice, apparently, for siring little super-soldiers. Brock had broken whatever he’d been holding when he’d first heard the order come down—a coffee mug, he thinks it was. The order strictly reassigned him as handler only to the asset, the one to supervise the project. Supervise. Brock cringes at the restriction of the word. He’s been the asset’s commanding officer for going on five years now. Unofficially, he’s been his alpha for two. He’s the one who knows the asset, understands him. He’s the only one who knows how to make him work right, how to get through to him. He’s the one who cares about him, who satisfies him through his heats. And now Hydra is forcing him to give that all away?

His mate is going to be so confused.

Rollins tells him to chill. “I’m sure they’ll still let you fuck around with him once he’s pupped a few litters.”

“That’s not the fucking point!” Brock roars, angry but not at Rollins. Jack seems to know this, as he doesn’t move at all from his lazy posture in the chair. “He’s my omega. I’m perfectly capable of breeding him, if that’s what they want.”

Rollins shrugs. “You ain’t got that super soldier sperm.”

“Captain. Hail Hydra.”

Steve looks up from where he’s been eating his breakfast and frowns at the sight of Rumlow. It’s strange and upsetting to see people that he knew from before. People who he’d thought were the good guys. Brock looks the same as he did a year ago. Same haircut, same face, same tactical gear that he used to wear when he was on Shield’s Strike team, when he was Steve’s friend. Only now there is no Shield, and there are no friends. Now they all belong to Hydra whether they want to or not.

“Hail Hydra,” Steve mumbles into the cold milk of his cereal.

“Gotta come with me, Cap,” Rumlow tells him. “Today’s the day.”

Steve looks up at him, eyes angry and tired. “I’m not doing it,” he says. He’s fucking not doing it. They can’t make him.

“I’m not in the mood for this today.” Rumlow calls in the four guards that he’s brought with him and has them stand there with their stun batons as a warning for Steve. Before, they never would’ve been enough to keep him subdued. But that was before. Steve knows it’ll be no use trying to fight them off. He lets his spoon drop into the cereal bowl.

They take him down to the wing where they keep Bucky, to a room with a bed, a minifridge and an exam chair. It’s a heat suite, where they intend to force him to do this, Steve supposes. Bucky’s not there. There’s a tech waiting for them and when Steve lays eyes on the prepped syringes he tenses, tries to turn around. He winds up with a stun baton jammed to his neck and the next thing he knows he’s restrained in the chair. The tech is bringing a needle over and Steve pulls with all his might against the mag restraints. They don’t budge. “Relax,” Rumlow says. He’s standing beside Steve. “It’s just something to help you.”

“Help me how?” Steve asks, afraid. He’s already drugged up six ways to Sunday. Drugs to keep him weak, drugs to keep him dazed, drugs to keep him calm. If he didn’t heal so rapidly his inner arms would look like pincushions by now. The injections erase who he is, erase any possibility of a fight, let alone an escape. He doesn’t want any more injections.

“Something to kickstart your rut,” Brock says. He points to the other needles, one by one. “An aphrodisiac. A benzo to lower your inhibitions. Hormones to increase the chances of conceiving.”

Steve sneers. “I’m not doing it. I’m not hurting him.”

“You sure as hell better not,” Brock tells him, and there’s something about the way that he says it that has Steve paying closer attention. Steve takes notice of how tense Rumlow seems, upset almost. He smells the sour tint of possessiveness rolling off of him. “He’s mine,” Brock says. It’s obvious he’s not talking about his role as Bucky’s handler.

Steve squints for a moment. “…No,” he says, eyes widening. Rumlow smirks when he sees that Steve is finally figuring it out. “You’ve had him.”

“Wow. Took you long enough Cap. Thought you would’ve at least smelled him on me, all the times I fucked him before passing you in the hall.”

Steve grits his teeth, fury building in him in a way that he didn’t think was possible, not with all of the mood stabilizers Hydra’s got him on. “You fucking raped him?!” The tech comes over and jabs Steve while he’s distracted, not that he can move much in the restraints anyway. The needle stings going in, but the anger coursing through him is worse than the cold flush of medicine through his veins.

Brock looks at Steve with contempt. “I’m his handler. He hasn’t been raped since I started caring for him.”

Steve pants in his seat, feeling his temperature start to climb as the drugs work into his system. “Is that what you call it?” he sneers. “You think you’re taking care of him?”

“I know you’re not happy about this,” Brock tells him. “But let me tell you something: neither am I.”

“What are you talking about?”

Brock tells the tech to get out of the room. He orders the AI system that they stole from Stark Industries to stop monitoring them. Once they’re all alone he tells Steve, “He’s mine, Rogers.” Steve growls at him and that makes Rumlow roll his eyes. He drags a stool over to sit right in front of where Steve is restrained. “What you’re participating in? It’s called Project Genesis.”

“Yeah, trying to make baby supersoldiers, I get it,” Steve snaps. “I’m not doing it.”

“It’s the only fucking reason you’re alive right now,” Brock tells him. “And it’s the only reason he’s not gathering dust in some cryo vault.”

Steve can’t suppress his frown. “What?”

Brock sighs. “You’ve both been decommissioned. Hydra is a major world power now. One or two enhanced assets aren’t worth our time anymore. An army of supersoldiers, however, is. That’s what he’s still useful for.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Yeah? How do you think I feel?” Brock snaps. “I was the one who was supposed to breed him. Was working on it just fine till they brought you in. I’m sure you think he’ll be happy to see you but let me tell you, he won’t.” Brock can smell the change coming over the other alpha, can smell his body ramping up for a rut. Beneath the scent of sex hormones is the sour tinge of chemicals. It makes Brock want to curl his nose and bare his teeth in a challenge, or maybe turn away to escape the smell altogether. “He doesn’t know you Cap, and you’re just going to scare him if you come at him acting like he should be glad to see you.”

Steve glares at him. “He does remember me. He knew me on the helicarrier.” Bucky had known him. He had.

But Brock shakes his head. “No. He only has bits and pieces Rogers. He’s my omega. I bonded to him years ago.”

Steve growls and pulls at his restraints again. “No!”

“Calm the fuck down!” Brock leans in closer. He looks mad. Smells mad too. “This isn’t about you or me. It’s not up to us. Do you think I’d let you touch him if it was?”

“He’s not yours,” Steve grits out. “And I’m not going to touch him.”

Brock huffs. “You wait till those drugs kick in, you’ll be singing a different tune.” He looks at Steve seriously. “And just so you know, he’s already in heat.”

Steve’s eyes widen at that. “What?”

“Yeah. He’s hot and aching and he knows what his mission is. He’s not going to fight it,” Brock says. “But he’s expecting me. He’s expecting someone that he knows to help him feel better. And he’s going to be confused when I bring him in here and tell him that he has to let another alpha fuck him. A stranger. So I need for you to calm down. I don’t want him scared. You and I are going to talk to him together and you’re going to be gentle with him.”

Steve can feel arousal building in himself, and it’s strange to feel that while he’s sitting there next to Rumlow, being told all of this. The chemically-induced rut is coming on fast. “Shit,” he curses, head falling back to the chair behind him. He can feel himself firming up beneath the thin cotton of his sleep pants and he hates that he can’t hide it from Rumlow. “I can’t do this. Please don’t make me do this.”

“Get it together Cap,” Rumlow snaps, unhappy.

“Fuck you!” Steve spits.

Brock sighs. “I was hoping you’d shut up but I can see that’s not going to happen. He crosses the room only to return with a gag in his hands. He forces Steve’s jaw open and presses the ball gag in, saying nothing about the fight Steve puts up. Once it’s secured and Steve is heaving angry breaths at him, Brock says, “I’m going to get him now. If you care about him at all you won’t make this worse for him than it has to be.” He gets up and leaves through the room’s only door and Steve is forced to wait long minutes, panting and sweating at the oncoming rush of a forced rut.

The asset is relieved when its handler comes to retrieve it. It entered its heat hours ago and has had to wait, alone and aching, in the little room. “Come on James,” the handler says when the asset stands from its little cot, and the asset remembers that this is supposed to be its name. He’s never heard it before—not from anyone besides his handler. It's probably invented, but he likes that he uses it. Even if it’s made up, it’s something special between just the two of them.

Now they’ll go to the other room, the one where they always go when he is to be bred. James looks forward to it because he knows it’ll make him feel better. Brock (that’s his handler’s name. He’s allowed to use it when they’re alone) will give him everything he needs, will knot him and hopefully fill him with pups. That’s their mission. So far they’ve been unsuccessful but the asset thinks it’s because his heats used to be so unpredictable. Now he’s been out of cryo long enough that he’s cycling regularly again, his body ready for a pregnancy.

The asset has never thought about reproducing. An assassin doesn’t think of such things, a weapon certainly doesn’t. But James does. James doesn’t mind his new mission. He hasn’t told his handler, but he secretly prefers serving Hydra this way over what he used to do. This way he doesn’t have to go into the cold. And they don’t wipe him. And there’s someone who cares for him—his alpha. Deep down, he secretly likes the idea of having a baby, something that’s his that isn’t garbage or government-issued. Something that’s all his. He doesn’t tell his handler about this either.

They enter the other room and there is someone else there. It’s a man, an alpha. He’s restrained and in rut, that much is clear right away. The asset is nearly knocked back by the abrupt smell of him. Brock notices and laughs, reaching to grab him by the arm and pull him closer. “Easy babe.”

The asset scans his eyes over the man on the chair. He’s big. Tall and muscled, with blond hair and handsome features. He’s clearly upset. He struggles against his bonds as they approach, making useless sounds through the gag in his mouth. The asset looks questioningly at Brock. “Who is he?” He’s not really supposed to ask questions unprompted, but over time he’s learned that it’s okay with his handler, with Brock.

“His name is Captain Rogers,” Brock says. “Former SHIELD operative. He’s an enhanced like you are.”

The asset nods. He was unaware that there were others like himself. There used to be a program, but it had failed. He can remember helping, being tasked with training a group of men and women to make them stronger, better. But they’d gone wild and had been eliminated. The mission had failed.

“We have new orders,” Brock tells him, and this is when he takes his hand, squeezes it reassuringly. James purrs at the contact, moves to begin removing his clothes as is expected of him. But Brock stops him. “Wait, babe.”

The man in the chair growls at the pet name and James whines. He doesn’t want the other alpha to be there. He wants to be naked, in a bed, under his mate. “I’m hot,” he points out. “I need to get undressed.”

“You can,” Brock tells him. He pets the side of James’ face. “But I’m not going to be here with you.”

The asset frowns in confusion. “What?” He doesn’t understand. This is the breeding room. James is in heat. It’s their mission—they’ll be punished if they don’t complete it. The asset tilts his head, baring his neck, trying to show his alpha how ready he is. “Alpha please,” he whines. He’d hit the floor and present if not for the other alpha in the room. “I’m in heat. I need it.”

Brock shushes him, gentles a hand down his side. It feels good but it’s not nearly enough. “I know baby, I know. You’ll get a knot, just not mine.” The asset is confused again, but only for a second. His eyes dart over to where the other alpha is bound. Brock sees this and he nods, “Yeah baby, you’re going to mate with him.”

“What?” A low noise of distress leaves James’ throat, unbidden. He’s not supposed to make noises like that. But Brock never punishes him for such mistakes, not when it’s just the two of them. “No. You’re supposed to do it. You’re my mate,” he says, feeling scared. He’s not supposed to argue with directions. “Alpha?” he says, trying to press his nose into Brock’s neck, trying to ignore the other man in the room. “The mission,” he urges. “Breed me. Put pups in me.”

But Brock just kisses his temple and sets him back firmly. “Sorry babe,” he says. “It’s orders.”

Steve tries to speak through the gag but of course it’s no use.

He is forced to sit there and watch as Rumlow comes into the room with Bucky, holding his hand, for Christ’s sake. Bucky doesn’t seem to mind at all. He makes a pleased sound whenever Brock touches him, and when he calls him pet names. Steve feels his guts lurch at the obvious show of affection between them. He feels jealously flare up in his core like a rabid animal, wanting to kill the other alpha for touching Bucky, for trying to claim the omega that should be his.

That, he knows, is his rut talking. It’s gotten worse in the past ten minutes since Brock left him here, tied to the exam chair and gagged. Steve’s skin itches and his pulse throbs. Between his legs, he’s hard. And now that Bucky has come into the room, now that Steve can smell him, it’s so much worse. Bucky smells like damp, cloying earth. He smells like dark, cramped spaces and tangled up bodies. He smells like something Steve wants to bury his face in and not come up for air from. Steve takes one look at him and feels the urge to chase him, catch him, pin him down come unbidden. All he can do is wiggle ineffectively in his bonds.

In front of him, Brock is telling Bucky that he has to mate with Steve. Steve’s heart clenches when Bucky looks over to him, tense and afraid. His eyes do not hold recognition. Steve listens as Bucky pleads and whines to Brock, calling him his alpha, begging him to breed him instead. And Brock fucking comforts him, pets him and gives him a kiss and tells him it’s okay. Bucky looks like he never wants to leave Brock’s side. Steve clenches his eyes shut at the sight.

“Rogers.”

Steve’s eyes open. Brock is standing right in front of him. Bucky is still hanging back, looking unsure. “You see?” Brock says, and he’s not bragging or gloating or anything. He’s just trying to get Steve to listen. “He’s used to being with me, Cap. He doesn’t know you. Now are you gonna behave if I take that gag out? Not going to upset him?”

Steve glares at Rumlow, but after a moment manages a terse nod. The gag gets removed, and Steve takes a moment to swallow the spit in his mouth, lick his lips and crack his jaw. “Thanks,” he grunts, not feeling at all thankful.

Rumlow nods, chucks the gag away. “I’m not going to let you up from that chair yet,” he tells Steve. “That I’ll do remotely, once I’m out of the room.”

Steve sneers. “What? You afraid to be alone with me?”

Brock raises his eyebrows. “First of all, I’m not alone.” He nods back to Bucky. “I’ve got him. Don’t let his role in our breeding program fool you; he’s still perfectly capable of ending a man with his bare hands. If I give him the order to, that is. Secondly, I’m not going to let you out of that chair while I’m in the room because you’re in rut. A rut that we chemically engineered to match his heat. You’re geared up to attack any alpha that comes near him.”

Steve scoffs. “I’ve got better control than you, animal.”

Brock looks back at Bucky and calls him over, but he calls him James, and that rankles Steve more than anything else yet. “Come here James,” Rumlow says. He holds out his arm and Bucky comes over obediently. “This is Steve. He’s not a big fan of mine, I’m sure you can tell.”

“Bucky,” Steve says urgently. “Bucky I’m not going to hurt you. Okay? Don’t worry.”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Bucky murmurs to Brock.

Brock glares at Steve. “I told you Cap. He doesn’t know any of that.” Brock pulls Bucky closer, encourages him to go up and touch Steve where he’s restrained to the chair. “Go ahead babe. You heard him: he won’t hurt you. Have a look at him.”

Bucky does. He inches closer until his leg hits the side of the chair. He reaches forward with careful fingers, as if Steve is a wild animal that might bite. Bucky’s eyes are cold and calculating as they pass over Steve, no recognition to them. Not like Steve wants. “He’s healthy,” Bucky murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid to say it. “Strong.” Behind, Brock chuckles a little.

“Yeah he is. Don’t worry though. He won’t be rough on you.” Brock meets Steve’s eyes over Bucky’s head. “I have it on good authority. He’s going to be real gentle.”

Bucky doesn’t react to this, and Steve feels as if he can hardly breathe as Bucky continues to examine him. He touches Steve’s arms, his legs, his chest. Steve is still clothed, but the touches ramp up the desire that the drugs have kickstarted. In his pants, he’s hard as a rock. Bucky leans down and sticks his nose into Steve’s neck, scenting at the glands there. It’s all Steve can do not to moan where he’s sitting, all he can do not to try and thrust his hips up the way his body wants to. After a long inspection, Bucky seems to make up his mind about Steve. He stands back and away, looks to Brock. “He’ll sire good pups. I understand why he’s been chosen.” He nods once to show his obedience in the matter. “I’ll complete the mission.”

Brock smiles at him. “Good boy.”

“Buck you don’t have to do anything these sacks of shit tell you to—”

“Cap,” Rumlow warns, “That ain’t the way. He WILL do what we tell him to. And if you’re resisting, he’ll take you by force. That how you want this to go?”

Steve grimaces at the threat, imagining the absurdity of Bucky raping him. “He should have a choice,” Steve tells Rumlow darkly, hating the man with every fiber of his being. “Does this make you proud?” he asks. “Treating him like a thing? Violating him?” Steve forces himself to meet Rumlow’s eyes in an imploring manner. “You said that you mated him. If that’s true, is this really what you want for him?”

Rumlow shakes his head, looks at Steve as if he’s incredibly thickheaded. “You just don’t get it, do ya Cap?” He walks over, takes a hold of Bucky’s neck and pulls him in for a deep kiss. Steve watches the display with horror, especially once Bucky brings both of his hands up to cradle Rumlow’s jaw. Brock pulls away from Bucky, their lips separating with a pop, and he glares at Steve. “This isn’t about ‘want’. It’s about following orders.” With that he pushes Bucky up to stand close to Steve, turning away before either man can stop him. “Now just shut up, lay back, and get him pregnant,” he throws over his shoulder as he walks out the door.

James tries not to feel anything when his mate leaves the room. He tries to slip back into the mindset of the Asset, a place where feelings are irrelevant. Brock has explained the parameters of the mission, has given the soldier his orders. Now James will execute. He tips his ear towards the door, his enhanced hearing helping him to pick up on the sounds of many intricate locking mechanisms being set. He flicks his gaze back up to the body of the other man—the man they’ve chosen to sire his pups.

James wants to sneer, feels like maybe he does. He shuffles uncomfortably in place, wetness already growing sticky and cool where it’s seeped into the back of his pants. He wonders if Captain Rogers can smell it. Stepping close to the chair where he’s restrained, James examines the mag cuffs that hold him in place. They’re similar to the ones that his handlers use on him. It makes James wonder just how strong this man is. Brock had said he was enhanced. He tilts his head in curiosity.

“… Bucky—”

“Directive clarification,” James calls out to the room, ignoring whatever the Captain had been about to say to him. James doesn’t wait for a response; he knows they’re being watched. “Am I to mount him like this?” he asks, not particularly caring either way. He shouldn’t care about this stranger’s comfort during the act—he’s not Brock. The soldier has his orders and James has no choice. He has to do it. A quick glance shows him what he can already smell: Captain Rogers is fully erect beneath his clothing. On the chair or in a bed, he’ll be easy enough for James to take inside of his body. But a crackle comes through the speakers in the ceiling, echoing Brock’s voice into the room:

“Use the bed if you want. He’s been chemically subdued so he shouldn’t be able to put up much a fight. Releasing mag cuffs in three, two...”

In the next second the restraints on the chair click open, and James turns back in time to see Captain Rogers pulling his arms away from the chair. He sits up, swinging his legs over the side. His bare feet touch the floor but he remains perched on the chair’s edge. For the first time, James realizes that the Captain is dressed in sleeping clothes. A standard issue tee shirt and cotton pants are all he wears. “Bucky,” he says again, holding out an arm in James’ direction. It is unclear if the gesture is meant to beckon James closer or to keep him at bay. James is not unaware that, omega or not, he presents a threatening image to most men. With this in mind he narrows his stance, draws his shoulders down to seem as small and nonthreatening as possible. Hopefully this will keep the Captain from trying to do something as counterproductive as running, or fighting.

“I realize you don’t recognize me, but don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you. My name’s Steve.

James blinks at him. He takes stock of the situation. Captain Rogers—Steve—has been made aware of his role in the breeding program. He’s been given his orders just like James has, but he’s resisting. James can smell it on him, the warring scents of desire and disgust. James steps closer, tilting his head to the side once he’s just in front of him. “Smell that?” he asks, being sure to keep his eyes cast down. The Captain’s hands are clenched tightly by his sides as James bares his neck in a submissive gesture. “Come on,” he says as gently as he can. “Alpha?”

“Don’t,” Steve bites out. He sounds pained. “Don’t call me that Buck.”

James bites his cheek, thinking he may just have to use physical force if this man won’t listen. “You’re in forced rut,” he says, trying again. “That can’t feel good.”

Steve huffs an abortive laugh. “Yeah.”

“You’re flushed,” James tells him. There is perspiration all along the collar of Steve’s tee. “And you’re hot. Burning-up-inside hot. Believe me I know how it feels. When you’re so desperate that you’re miserable?” He reaches for the hem of his own shirt, pulls it quickly over his head. He knows that the movement makes his scent burst into the air. Now his top half is exposed and James has to hold in the sigh that wants to come at the relief of having that much less clothing on his body. He tosses his shirt aside. In front of him, Steve’s nostrils are flaring. “It doesn’t have to be like that,” he tells him, “You can have me. It’ll help.”

Steve’s fingers sink into the chair’s cushion, little bits of foam padding ripping out and falling to the floor. His scent is soaring—a deep, rich scent like copper and burnt wood. James grits his teeth at the sudden urge to drop and present. He slowly reaches out with his flesh hand and touches Steve’s thigh. “Why are you afraid?” he asks. It’d be nice to know. Everyone always seems to know more than he does…

“I can’t hurt you like this Buck. I just can’t.”

James shushes him, ignores the continued use of that nonsensical name, Bucky. “You won’t,” he soothes, pulling lightly at the fabric of Steve’s pants in an effort to get him to slide off the chair. “I’m in heat. I’m ready. It won’t hurt.”

Steve scoffs, but he does allow himself to be moved. Standing barefoot, they come eye to eye. “That’s not the kind of hurt I meant.”

James ignores the clench his heart gives as he thinks of Brock. He wonders if his alpha is watching from another room, observing them through a little camera. He hopes not. “Come here,” James says, pulling Steve forward. Steve’s hands find their way to his hips, and James feels more slick rush out of his body at the contact. He whimpers without meaning to. “Scent me,” he says, tilting his head again. He’s pressing up against Steve, their bodies connected from thigh to chest. He can feel the alpha’s erection and he’s certain that Steve can feel his. But that hardly matters as Steve releases an answering growl somewhere in his throat. His head dips down and he buries his nose in the crook of James’ neck. James’ breath leaves him in a satisfied puff. He’s been in heat for nearly twenty-four hours with no relief until now. He’d been expecting Brock, his mate, but the mission has changed.

His body has already decided for him, he realizes. It doesn’t matter that this isn’t Brock. Doesn’t matter that it’s a stranger who’s been selected to put pups in him. James’ body recognizes this Steve for what he is; a strong, virile alpha.

The Asset grabs Steve with his metal hand, pushing him towards the bed before the other man can protest.

Steve stumbles over his own feet, not having been prepared for the rough grab and push of Bucky’s metal arm. He falls gracelessly back onto the room’s bed with a grunt. Bucky doesn’t give him time to recover. He’s there in a flash, one hand planted in the center of Steve’s chest and the other yanking down his pants. Bucky tosses them to the floor and reaches for Steve’s shirt. But Steve isn’t having it. He grabs Bucky’s arms and attempts to fight him. They grapple for all of three seconds before Bucky has him pinned, and Steve is panting furiously. The drugs make him so much weaker than before. With Bucky’s metal arm in play he doesn’t stand a chance. Begging is all he’s got left, it seems. “Please,” he says, staring imploringly. “You don’t want to do this.”

Bucky ignores him completely. He rips Steve’s tee shirt down the front like it’s paper, pulls it off of him and throws it somewhere in the general vicinity of where the pants had gone. Leaning forward over Steve’s now-naked body, he gives a very un-omega like growl. “Stay down.” He stands up and divests himself of the boots he’s wearing, then his pants.

Of course Steve doesn’t listen. He manages to prop himself up by the time Bucky’s taking his underwear off, and the scent that hits Steve then is so strong it makes him clench his eyes shut. “Fuck.” He can’t look at Bucky, he can’t or he’ll lose his shit. The bed dips and Steve jerks as Bucky pulls him to lie down again, too much naked skin pressed up along his own. “Bucky, don’t—” He’s cut off by lips crashing down on his own. Bucky wastes no time in forcing his way, mouthing and biting at Steve to make him open up. His hands pull at Steve’s hair and he fucks his tongue lewdly into his mouth. A garbled noise that probably would have been a moan had it been allowed to form leaves Steve, his hands grabbing the first part of Bucky they can find—his hips. Steve pulls on Bucky, whether to bring him closer or push him away he’s not sure, but he winds up tugging the other man fully atop him, and the second Steve feels him start rolling his hips downwards, he’s lost.

Bucky breaks the kiss, pulling away. Steve opens his eyes to see the omega staring at him, eyes a hard grey. He’s still fucking downwards, rubbing himself off against the crest of Steve’s groin, and his breath has become harsh. “This is our mission,” he breathes, sounding rough and desperate. “We have to. You have to.”

Steve feels sickness rise up and mingle with the desperation of his rut again. “No.”

“Yes.”

Steve repeats the ‘no’ several times more as Bucky continues to writhe against him, but his hands don’t loosen their hold on Bucky’s hips, and he doesn’t try to push Bucky off of him. “I can’t.”

Bucky makes an angry sound in his throat and yanks Steve’s head back with the grip he has on his hair. It’s his metal hand and it hurts. “You don’t have a choice,” he says. Steve growls at the dominant gesture, his hindbrain urging him to put the omega in his place. But Bucky leans closer again. For a second Steve thinks he’s going to kiss him, but he doesn’t. He puts his lips to Steve’s ear, the dark length of his hair falling around them. “Don’t make me take it,” he whispers, sounding desperate. His hips have not stopped moving. “Please. Alpha. You’re supposed to give it to me. Take me. Don’t make me do it.”

Steve groans. There’s nothing worse that Bucky could have said. He’s in heat, and Steve’s in rut, and now he’s calling Steve Alpha and begging Steve to mate with him the way that he wants it; to take him the way an alpha should take their omega. Steve opens his eyes to find Bucky staring at him once again, only this time his eyes are soft and his brow is pinched—pleading. He looks more like the Bucky that Steve remembers, and Steve can’t ignore the urge within himself to make that pleading look go away, to satisfy.

He flips them over. The only reason he’s able to do it is because he takes Bucky completely by surprise. Bucky’s eyes go wide for a moment, assessing a threat, before he realizes the move for what it is and he relaxes and purrs. Steve doubts himself immediately. He brings his hands to Bucky’s face, pleased when he’s not pushed away and Bucky fucking bends his neck to expose himself. “Alpha,” Bucky whines, but Steve’s not having it.

“You listen to me,” he says angrily, using the last goddamn piece of himself that he has left to convey seriousness in his tone. Bucky stares at him obediently and Steve swallows. “They don’t wipe my memory, got it? You may not remember me, but I remember you. And I won’t hurt you. I hurt you, you have to tell me. If you want to stop, you tell me. Got it?”

James frowns, even in his lust-ridden brain he knows he does. This stranger—no, some distant and unreachable part of his mind corrects, not a stranger—Steve—is referencing the wipes, is telling him that they’ve met before. James can’t disprove such a claim. He wonders if this Captain Rogers was once his handler, or possibly a target. He wonders if “Bucky” was his call sign then. Steve is still staring intently at him, waiting for his answer, and James shakes his head to get the thoughts to go away. They’re not important, not relevant to the mission. If his promise is all the Captain needs, then it means nothing to James to give it. “You won’t hurt me,” he says again, thinking that the alpha above him is stupid to imagine that he could, but adds, “I’ll tell you if you do.”

That seems to settle it for Steve. He comes down and kisses James’ forehead, leaves his lips to linger there in a manner that makes James distinctly uncomfortable—as if they are old friends, or family even. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Turn over.”

James flips, never having obeyed an order so quickly. He tries to push himself up to present but with Steve’s heavy weight at his back he can’t do it. Behind, he can feel the alpha’s hardness pressing between his cheeks and it makes him whine needily. This may be a mission, but he’s still been left wanting and unfulfilled for close to going on twenty four hours now. There are no feelings of doubt or discontent with the situation that James needs to force down to be a good soldier. He’s allowed to want this, and he does. “Alpha,” he urges when Steve doesn’t move to penetrate him. “Please. Now, please.”

He can feel the exact moment when Steve gives in. His hands are clamped tightly on James’ wrists to keep him still, but when James nearly begs to be fucked it seems to push the alpha off whatever edge of hesitance he’s still managing to hang onto. James can feel Steve’s cock on his ass as he allows himself to thrust at last. The teasing slide is made easier by the slick that’s gathered there. James groans in frustration, rubbing his face into the bed and fairly suffocating himself as he waits for the other man to get on with it and get inside of him. He’s aching for it, for the stretch and pressure of an alpha’s cock, for a knot. He knows he’ll start yelling in a moment if Steve doesn’t DO SOMETHING.

But he does, and James doesn’t have to yell at him after all. Steve presses up onto his arms, the sweaty warmth of his chest leaving James’ back. He positions himself, bumping against James’ hole, and it’s a relief that he forgoes the unnecessary gesture of using fingers first—James is sure he would snap at him if he tried. Steve presses inside, entering him slowly but never stopping until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with James’ ass. It’s not hard to take him in. James’ body is slick and ready for it and he groans lowly into the bed at the sheer relief of it. “Yesss,” he hisses, and turns his head as much as he can to look back at Steve. The man looks about as gone for it as James feels, and a dark thrill shoots through him at the thought that he’s about to be taken just the way he wants to be. Fucked and bred just the way his body is crying out for. It may not be Brock, but James has decided not to think about that. All he can think about in his current state is Steve; the smell of him, the feel of him, even the sounds he makes, it all feels too perfectly satisfying. Maybe it has something to do with the barrage of drugs the techs had shot him up with yesterday. Maybe. He’s not supposed to care though, and he doesn’t. He tries to thrust his hips backwards, wanting movement and having no idea how the other man can bear to hold so still now that they’re connected. There’s nowhere to go with Steve pinning him down at the hips, but he knows the Alpha feels him squirming, recognizes it for the request that it is. “Move,” James says, sounding more demanding than a good omega should. “God just…”

Steve has a hand in his hair and his nose in his neck before James can finish the sentence. A very low growl, almost a feeling more than a sound, is coming out steadily from his chest. It makes goosebumps break out on James’ arms. “Are you telling me what to do?” Steve asks.

Against the bed, Bucky’s mouth splits in a smug grin. This is what he wanted, what Brock would’ve done. At the height of his heats, all the asset wants, all James wants, is to be taken. To be held down and owned. James strains to look back over his shoulder. The angle is awkward but he ignores it, fixing Steve with what he hopes is a challenging stare. If he has to goad the alpha into a more feral headspace to get things done, then by god that’s exactly what he’ll do. “I came here to get fucked, so yeah, I am. Move,” he bites out, hoping that it will spur Steve into action. It does. He pulls out, ignoring James’ cry of protest. His big hands slide down to his hips and he gets onto his knees behind him. James follows, pressing back and presenting. He can feel Steve’s hands pulling him apart, baring his hole. There is silence and James knows without having to look that Steve is just staring at him. The thought of it makes him shudder. He presses his face into the bedding and whines.

“God,” Steve exclaims softly, dragging a thumb across his leaking hole. “You’re soaked.”

James cannot stop whining low, needy omega sounds. Then he feels the blunt head of Steve’s cock at his entrance and he moans. “Yes,” he hisses, though it’s muffled against the sheets. He presses his ass back harder, and that causes Steve to pop inside of him. The alpha grunts in surprise, but then he’s right back to thrusting, this time faster. Just as deep though, and god, if that isn’t exactly what James wants. “Oh, hugn—oh!” The noises he’s making are obscene but James hardly notices. They seem to drive Steve on, his hips slapping harder each time he moans particularly loud.

It goes on like this until James reaches for his own cock. He only gets a couple of strokes in before Steve is knocking his hand away. James cries out indignantly but then Steve pulls out, flips him over and pushes right back in. He wraps his hand around James’ cock, hips working at the same pace as his hand. He’s staring down at James with a burning intensity, breath heavy with his efforts. “Mine,” he growls, giving a calculated twist on the upstroke.

James’ eyes roll back in his head. “Ugh, fuuck.” It’s incredible and nothing he’s used to. No alpha has ever done this for him before, always leaving it to him to take care of. He can hardly thrust into the grip very well when he’s being fucked as hard as he is, but damn if he doesn’t try. “Please,” he groans, grappling at Steve’s shoulders for something to hold onto. He hardly knows what he’s asking for. The alpha is sweaty above him and James’ hands glide over the muscles in his back. “Please, Steve,”

Steve’s eyes shoot to his at the use of his name. Something raw and more intense than what they’re doing now passes through them, and before James knows what’s happening he’s being kissed. It’s not gentle. It’s plying, and insistent, and needy. God, is it needy. Steve is kissing him like it’s the answer to something and all James can do is go along for the ride.

“Bucky,” Steve is grunting at him when he finally parts enough to speak. James knows he’s speaking to him, so he opens his eyes to the nonsensical name. He doesn’t really care what this man calls him, so long as he never stops. “Buck I’m gonna,” Steve tells him, brow sweaty and pinched. “I have to.”

James groans, feeling how true the alpha’s words are. His knot is growing, tugging more insistently with every thrust. When it feels like Steve might pull away at the last second, James wraps his arms and legs around him in a fierce hold. “No,” he begs. “Inside me. I need it.” He’s not thinking even a little bit about the mission now, only the ache inside him. It’s an ache only a knot will fix, and he whimpers this to Steve as he holds him. “Knot me. Alpha, please. Want to feel it. Fill me up. Breed me.”

Steve makes a filthy sound and shoves forward, groaning long and low into James’ ear. His knot catches, fully blown as he climaxes. His hand has stopped moving over James’ cock but it hardly matters now. He’s rocking his hips shallowly, pulling his knot taut against James’ rim, pulsating it over his prostate again and again and again. James doesn’t need anything else to make him come spectacularly.

“Why do you torture yourself like this?”

Brock doesn’t turn around from the observation window. He figures Rollins is just here to taunt him anyway. “Nobody asked you to come in here,” he says quietly, attention still fixed on the pair in the next room.

“Yeah well…” Rollins comes up and stands right next to Brock, eyes taking in the same sight. “I was curious.” When Brock says nothing, he adds, “Looks like they’re finished.”

Brock scoffs and turns abruptly from the window, putting his back to it. “They’re not fucking finished.” Idiot, he wants to add. He scrubs his hands over his face and it occurs to him that he needs to shave. “That was just round one.” Brock doesn’t know about Rogers, but he is intimately familiar with his own omega’s stamina during a heat. “They’ll be in there for a good two days at least.”

“And you’re just going to stand here and watch?” Rollins rolls his eyes. “Stupid.”

“I can’t do anything else,” Brock snaps, irritated at his friend. “You’ve never been bonded. You wouldn’t understand.”

“No?”

“No.” He sighs. “You think what? It’s just jealousy?” He shakes his head. “I could handle that. But this… It’s like a physical ache.” He turns slightly to glance through the window again, thinks better of it, and turns back around. “Can’t stand it.”

“Can’t do anything to change it.” Rollins points out. “You never should’ve gotten so close. He’s just a thing, and at the end of the day he’s Hydra’s thing, not yours.”

“Yeah.” Brock really doesn’t have it in him to argue that point. He wants to, but he doesn’t. It isn’t like he doesn’t wish he could set the poor SOB free. But that’s never going to happen, and playing house with his bonded for the last six months has just been wishful thinking. “They still going at it?” he asks, unwilling to turn around and look again. He wasn’t exactly getting off on the sight before.

Rollins looks. “Naw. Resting.”

Brock grits his teeth, can’t keep the image of that goddamn super soldier, tied to his mate, out of his head.

“You think it’ll take?”

“Christ Rollins, you just don’t quit. Of course it will.” Pretty soon he’ll have to see the soldier, heavy with a litter of his pups. He hates it. Hates it more than anything.

Rollins shrugs and claps a hand onto Brock’s shoulder. “Don’t stay in here.” Another glance back. “He’s obviously not going to hurt ‘im. Leave them to it. Come and have a drink with me.”

Brock looks at Rollins then and really considers him. He calls him his friend, but the truth is the two of them are just the same as the Winter Soldier—property of Hydra. It’s taken years for him to realize it, but it’s true. Still, Rollins is offering him a drink now, and even more than that, a temporary escape. It’s the closest thing to friendly Brock’s ever gotten from the other man, and he figures it’s the best he’s going to get for a while. He might as well go. Because Rollins is right; he never should have gotten so close.

Brock sighs and nods at Rollins. Tells him, “Yeah. Yeah I think I will.”

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[nekoannie-chan]

The perfect trap part I

Pairing: Brock Rumlow X Enhanced!Mutant!Reader X Jack Rollins, Steve Rogers X Enhanced!Mutant!Reader (platonic).

Word count: 1141 words.

Summary: The reader is in a relationship with Brock and Jack; she has the task of introducing Steve to our era, something that obviously neither of them likes, but they have no choice.

Warnings: Poly relationship, the reader is an agent of HYDRA, mentions of smut.

A/N: This was requested by @azulatodoryuga. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

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.

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2011

"Have you decided where we're going on vacation yet?" you inquired of your boyfriend as you adjusted your bra.

You were busy when you got the message from S.H.I.E.L.D., in which they told you that they needed your presence immediately at the facilities; you had to get dressed quickly.

"Y/N, there is no time for that; we must get there as soon as possible and see that none of that interferes with our plans," Jack scolded you.

You turned indignantly to see him. "What did you say?"

"Jack, don’t bother her; you better hurry up; you know that if you make her angry, she won't let you do to her that thing you like so much," Brock intervened, causing Jack to leave the room grumbling.

"What's going on?” It's four in the morning," you commented, breaking the silence in the car.

"Something too important; otherwise, they wouldn't have called us, but we're not the only ones, so it's a big deal," Brock said as he drove.

"I don't like this."

"Did you see something?" Jack asked.

"I don't have visions; I just move things around, and, well, you know... you made a sign to indicate that you could kill someone using your powers.” But I have a bad feeling."

"Do you think we've been discovered?" Jack's voice sounded nervous; that wasn't like him at all.

"If that were the case, we'd have several teams breaking into the house to catch us instead of being called in.” It's something else," Brock clarified.

"I hope we don't have to use the Soldiers," you said.

"Does innocent little Y/N want a repeat of last time?” I believe you're a sex addict," Jack teased.

"Jack, shut up; you're the sex addict," you defended yourself.

Brock Jack was waiting for the other one to agree with him.

"Sorry, but Y/N is right; I'm starting to think you really are." Brock backed you up.

"I hate you."

"You're lying, you know you love us, or do you want me to tell you what we were doing before we were interrupted?" You've already scoffed.

Jack grimaced; he knew he had lost the battle.

"Why did you come together?" Natasha asked you when you sat down next to her. It was going to be very obvious if the three of you sat together.

"I spoke to Rumlow, who lives near my house, but my car broke down and I had no way to get there," you answered. You usually made excuses, and you didn't want anyone to know about the relationship you had to avoid putting others in danger. "Do you know why they called us?" You nimbly changed the subject; you knew that she would keep questioning you if you didn't do it.

"They found someone," she answered.

"Someone? Who? "

"They're not sure yet, but they say is Captain Rogers."

"Captain Rogers? You mean, Steve Rogers, Captain America, "you couldn't believe what you had just heard; you had to tell Jack and Brock as soon as possible."

You managed to send them a text message, and they made a great effort to keep their reaction from being obvious. What was going on was confirmed at that meeting, where they explained it to you.

None of the three knew exactly the significance of what was happening, but you were beginning to imagine the consequences. Evidently, Pierce would not be at all happy, and above all, in a few days, he would also gather the agents who were on the mission to intervene with S.H.I.E.L.D.

You were startled when Fury named you at the end of the meeting; he required your presence in his office. Brock and Jack exchanged glances, somewhat panicked, and as much as possible, they stayed close to Nick's office; they were very worried.

"What do you need me for, Director?" you asked, doing your best to appear calm.

"You will take care of Rogers; I need you to help him integrate into our time; you are one of the best agents we have," Nick ordered.

"Is he awake yet?" You were trying to get as much information as you could. You, Brock, and Jack had to come up with a plan quickly.

"This morning, but I need to keep it a secret still," he replied.

You nodded, and he continued to give you instructions. Now that you were trying hard to keep from smiling, maybe it wasn't all bad news; that could mean that maybe you could move up the ranks in HYDRA.

As you left the office, you motioned for them to follow you; you were to talk in a private place where no one could hear you.

They didn't like the idea at all; they didn't like at all that you had to share your time with the enemy or what could happen; they didn't want to share you with anyone else in any way; you were only theirs.

"When are you going to start that?" Brock questioned.

"In three days."

"I don't like the idea," Brock said. He didn't want to think about what might happen; the mere thought made him angry.

"I know, Brock, but if we look on the bright side, we could get a lot of valuable information, and that would make Pierce very happy," you said.

"Y/N is right, but we'll still be close, and if he dares to touch you...

"Is the big guy jealous?" interrupted Jack.

"Pierce wants us to meet, well, all of STRIKE with him tomorrow," Brock interrupted as he saw the message that had arrived.

"Then I guess we have to make the most of the time; we don't know when we might get some alone time together again," you proposed mischievously.

Obviously, you didn't waste that night, so much so that the next day you couldn't even walk, but you didn't deny that you enjoyed it.

Day D

You knew you had to carry out your mission perfectly, although now that Pierce has found out about Steve, you feel more pressure.

"You know you can call us whenever you need us," Brock said, then gave you a kiss and a little box with a necklace he had bought for you.

"We'll be waiting for you; everything will be so boring without you," Jack said as he kissed you on the cheek.

You had never been separated for more than a month, but somehow you were going to get Steve to be part of HYDRA; somehow you would convince him without him noticing.

With the Soldier and the Captain on your side, the world would be yours.

You took a breath of air before knocking on the door, and you opened it slowly when you heard you could come in.

"Captain Rogers, I'm Agent Y/N Y/L/N. I'll be in charge of helping you integrate into our time. Nice to meet you."

[lavenderpanic]

NEW FIC

Okay I've been messing around with this idea for like months and i only have like 3k words written and I wanted to test the waters to see if this is something you guys are interested in reading.

Brief synopsis: Bucky, a 23 year old college dropout, lives with his fiancé Brock Rumlow by the small New England college Brock is a professor at. Between his OCD and his anxiety and the gender dysphoria his fiancé assures him is all in his head, he struggles to find purpose and happiness. That is, until his fiancé's graduate student, Steve Rogers, moves into town and disrupts everything Bucky thought he knew.

Excerpt below cut, TW: OCD, DV, intentional midgendering/deadnaming, SH behaviors, coercion

Bucky peeks his head into the living room. There are only three men besides his fiancé, but the conversation is already too loud. Brock always says Bucky is just especially sensitive, that he has a naturally nervous predisposition, that’s why he’s best suited to staying home most of the time. He’s right, Bucky is sensitive, to noises and lights and crowds. Brock is so kind to not force him to go out. When he was a kid, his parents always thought he was faking it for attention, so they’d make him go to church and school and the grocery store even when he was overwhelmed. Brock never makes him leave if he doesn’t want to. And sometimes, even if he does want to, Brock knows it’s better for him to stay inside.

“Jamie, why don’t you bring out the drinks?” Brock calls.

Bucky’s back stiffens and he takes a slow breath. The men probably won’t even want to talk to him, they rarely do, beyond simple pleasantries. He just needs to smile and look nice. He grabs the silver tray of gin and tonics and walks into the living room with a timid little smile. He recognizes two of the men, other professors from the university, Rollins and Sitwell, he actually took a course with Rollins before he dropped out, but he doesn’t recognize the third. He looks barely older than Bucky himself, with his sandy hair and round, blue eyes, like perfectly ripe blueberries.

He doesn’t dress like the other men, either. During their classes, sure, they may dress nicely, in suits or button-ups with pressed slacks, but when they get together outside of that, they nearly always wear jeans, maybe a nice shirt or a sweater if they care enough that night. But the younger man, the blond, he’s dressed up like a vaguely homosexual humanities major from a nineties movie about a college in New England. Sweater vest, pants in a cinnamon-y kind of brown, a cream-white shirt rolled up to his elbows.

Brock pecks Bucky’s cheek as he places the tray down on the coffee table, next to the platters of carefully-selected crackers and nuts and cheeses that Bucky has spent the last two years learning how to curate. Brock’s real particular about shit like that. “Thanks, babe,” Brock says gently.

“Dinner should be ready soon,” Bucky whispers, sidling up close to him and glancing at the other men. “Like… half an hour more, I think? The potatoes just need a bit longer.”

“Of course, babydoll,” Brock murmurs, then kisses Bucky’s cheek again. “Go on, you don’t have to stay in here.”

Bucky smiles thankfully and disappears back into the kitchen. It’s a gorgeous kitchen, Brock wanted to gut it and rebuild it all marble and sleek, but Bucky begged him to keep it the way it is. It has beautiful hand painted tiles and dark-stained wooden cabinets and the most perfectly-worn brass fixtures. Brock finally agreed to keep it the way he bought it, if only because Bucky’s the one who spends so much time in the kitchen.

The kitchen smells glorious, the whole apartment does, really. Like thyme and garlic and the orange-cranberry cake he baked this afternoon. The potatoes in the oven are a soft golden-brown, encrusted with herbs, and the steak is resting on the counter. He did a good job. Brock will be happy with him. He didn’t mess up like last time.

He decides to start on the icing for the cake, a simple powdered sugar icing, perhaps with a squeeze or two of orange juice. He plucks the leftover orange from the ceramic fruit bowl and places it down on the counter before going to the cupboard and reaching for the paper bag of icing sugar. He has to stand on his tiptoes and lean against the counter and he’s still barely tall enough to brush his fingers against the bottom of the bag. He gets a loose grip on it when–

“Oh, hey, do you need help with that?”

Bucky whirls around in surprise, sending the bag tumbling to the ground. Nearly half of it flies out in a sugary cloud, painting the antique tiles an ashy grey. On the other side of the cloud stands the blond, the young man who Bucky still hasn’t been introduced to.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” he says with wide eyes.

“No, no, my fault,” Bucky whispers. Brock is going to be so mad with him for making such a bad mess. He’ll need to really mop it, maybe twice or even three times, fine sugar is almost impossible to clean properly. “Sorry.”

“No, nonsense, do you have a broom or something, I could–”

Bucky shakes his head quickly and gestures for Steve to return to the men before he finds his voice. “‘S not your fault, I can clean it. Do you… you need something?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Rumlow just said there would be seltzer or soda or something in here. I’m not much of a drinker,” he laughs apologetically.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Bucky nods. He opens the fridge to reveal shelves upon shelves of perfectly organized food, labeled tupperwares, straight lines of soda cans. “Any flavor you prefer?” Bucky asks quietly.

“Yeah, lemon would be great, thanks.” Bucky hands him a silvery can with a little lemon slice embossed into its front, careful not to slip into the mess of sugar. “Oh, I’m Steve, by the way. I’m a PhD candidate, I just moved here. I’m, um, TA-ing for one of Rumlow’s courses, and I’m teaching one myself.”

“Ooh, that sounds interesting,” Bucky hums. He struggles to think of an intelligent-sounding thing to say next. “What are you, like… getting your PhD in?”

Steve starts to say something, he nearly launches into what must be a very rehearsed recitation of his field of study, but Brock appears in the doorway next to him a moment later, places a hand on his far shoulder like they’re pals. Brock’s easy smile falls from his face when he sees the pile of sugar in the very center of the kitchen. Bucky instinctively takes a step back at the displeasure written into every line of his face. “What’s taking so long?” Brock chuckles, but there isn’t any humor in it.

“I’m really sorry, man,” Steve chuckles, ducking his head in faux-embarrassment. “I knocked over the sugar when I went to open the fridge, stupid mistake.”

Brock’s posture softens a bit, his shoulders drop and he stops glaring at Bucky quite so menacingly. “Yeah, she can clean it up, don’t worry about it.”

Bucky shoots Steve a little thankful grin as the two men walk out of the kitchen. He manages to salvage the sugar that didn’t fall out of the bag and does his best to brush as much of the mess on the floor into a trash bag as he can. He’ll clean the rest tonight, once everyone leaves and he can really scrub at the tile.

He doesn’t get the chance to make the icing before he has to plate up dinner, but that’s fine, the men usually like to drink and talk a bit in between dinner and dessert, so he should have plenty of time to ice the cake in between. He sets five plates full of potatoes and steak and grilled asparagus on the table and calls in for the men. He sits at Brock’s side. He doesn’t have steak, he doesn’t really like to eat meat, it feels weird against his teeth, but he does love potatoes and asparagus. He manages to finish off his plate, which earns him a small nod of approval from his fiancé.

“So, Jamie, what do you do?” Steve asks, once there’s a lull in conversation.

Bucky takes a shaky breath and glances to Brock before answering. “I really just take care of the home, I don’t… work or anything.”

The focus is quickly drawn away from him, and he doesn’t mind. He really doesn’t have anything interesting to add to any conversation. Not unless the topic is baked goods or bookshelves or something. He isn’t good at small talk, but it’s okay, because people don’t usually want to talk to him anyway.

He clears the table while the men chat in the living room. He notices Steve glancing at him through the doorway that connects the living room to the dining room, which makes him a bit uneasy, but people who meet him through Brock usually are a bit surprised to realize he’s so young. There’s only a seventeen year gap, but Bucky knows he’s still quite young. Most people don’t expect a forty-year-old professor to have a twenty-three-year-old fiancée at home. Bucky doesn’t mind. Brock doesn’t, so why should he?

He makes the icing once the table is re-set with clean dessert dishes, a simple icing, vanilla and powdered sugar and milk and a bit of orange juice. He drizzles it neatly onto the bundt cake and places it on the table proudly and waits in the kitchen until the men decide they’re hungry again. Steve sits next to Bucky this time. Brock on one side, Steve on the other.

“Shit, this is good,” Steve curses under his breath. The other men are too busy talking about something Bucky doesn’t understand to compliment him, but he doesn’t mind, he doesn’t need to be thanked for doing what’s expected of him. “Is this from, like, scratch?”

“Yeah,” Bucky whispers, grinning a bit. “It’s a recipe I developed. I have a lot of time. I made a lot of lemon blueberry cake this summer and I thought I could adapt it for autumn.”

“Are you gonna eat some? Seriously, this is like… better than bakery quality.”

“Oh, I’m not hungry,” Bucky lies. He’s on a diet. Not a strict one, but he absolutely couldn’t fit a whole slice of cake into his daily calorie allotment. Maybe if he doesn’t eat breakfast or lunch tomorrow, he could have a leftover slice after dinner.

He busies himself in the kitchen, packing up leftovers and wiping down the counters, while the men say their goodbyes. As expected, moments after the door shuts, Brock appears in the kitchen. “You need to clean the floor,” He says, as if that hasn’t been the only thing on Bucky’s mind all evening.

“I will,” Bucky promises earnestly. “Did I do good tonight?”

“Well, darling,” Brock corrects with a little chuckle. “Yes, you did very well. Such a lovely hostess,” he teases, which makes Bucky’s cheeks go a bit pink, he never does like when Brock makes such a point of calling him a woman, but he knows he meant it as a compliment so he doesn’t protest.

“Thank you,” Bucky grins.

“Come to the bedroom once this is all cleaned up, alright?”

“Alright,” Bucky parrots nervously. He’ll have to hurry up his cleaning, Brock gets mad when he thinks Bucky is procrastinating sex. Bucky doesn’t want to be punished tonight. Having to see so many people already exhausted him, and he narrowly escaped a punishment for dropping the sugar all over the kitchen floor.

But still, he presses a polite smile onto his face and nods and Brock leaves him alone to clean. After two passes with a mop, there are only a few sticky streaks left behind. He’ll really scrub it clean tomorrow, but Brock probably won’t notice in the interim.

Bucky reluctantly shuffles up the stairs to the bedroom. Brock is laying down on the bed, laptop balanced on his thighs. Bucky resists the urge to remind him not to wear outside clothes on the fresh comforter, just barely, Brock gets annoyed when he gets all obsessive about that kind of stuff. Bucky perches delicately on the end of the bed and waits for Brock to finish whatever he’s typing up. He rushes Brock, sometimes, because he’s selfish with Brock’s time. He’s trying to get better, though.

Finally, Brock closes his computer and places it on the side table. He looks at Bucky for several tense breaths. Bucky fidgets anxiously. Is something wrong? Is he doing something wrong? He glances down unsurely at what he’s wearing. “I noticed you were doing it again,” Brock finally states.

“Doing what?” Bucky whispers.

“Scratching your arms.”

“I haven’t been,” Bucky defends quickly. His hands immediately go to circle his forearms, he crosses them over his chest protectively.

“I saw you doing it tonight,” Brock says slowly. “Take off your sweater, Jamie. And roll up those sleeves, too.”

Bucky pulls his knit sweater over his head, then bunches up the long sleeves of his dress to his elbows so his forearms are visible. All along his arms, blanketed by a sheer layer of iridescent scars, soft violet bruises blossom alongside irritated-looking scratches, some newer than others. He looks away, embarrassed. He truly didn’t notice he was doing it, it’s been a habit for so long that he rarely registers it. Brock coos with mock-sympathy and sits up a bit, gesturing for Bucky to scoot closer. He does.

“Baby, you need to stop doing that, look how ugly they are. You’re just making it harder for the scars to heal.”

“‘M sorry,” Bucky mumbles. Brock takes him by the wrists, turns his mottled arms this way and that. After a few moments of inspection, Brock drops his arms again and reaches his hands for his belt. “No, please, I’m sorry,” Bucky whispers desperately, shrinking away from his fiancé as discreetly as he can manage.

“Hands out.”

Bucky lifts his hands up, facing the palms toward Brock. They’re trembling, but he knows better than to refuse. Brock carefully folds his belt in half and strikes Bucky’s palms, ten times, in close succession. Bucky flinches, but he never takes his hands away. Brock is right to discipline him. He’s right, he needs to break this habit. It is ugly. He’s ugly. Brock deserves better than that. “Thank you,” he says quickly, as Brock tosses the belt to the side and leans back against the headboard.

“I’m just trying to help you, darling, you know that.”

“I do,” Bucky nods, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. Brock always keeps the house so freezing. Bucky usually doesn’t mind, but he always feels so shaky when Brock makes him get undressed. His fingertips turn all blue.

Brock undoes his pants, spreads his legs to either side of Bucky so he can crawl forward and situate himself on his stomach. He takes Brock’s dick out of his pants and strokes at it a couple times, but it’s already erect. He takes it into his mouth and sucks gently at the head, he wants to prolong this part to hopefully avoid having Brock fuck into the back of his throat for too long. He hates that. One time he got sick, and Brock got so mad, even though Bucky kind of felt, deep down, like it was Brock’s fault. Since then, every time Brock starts gripping onto his hair and thrusting down his throat, he feels panic tugging at his lungs and nausea pooling low in his stomach.

Thankfully, he leaves Bucky in control for most of the blowjob, he lets him wrap his hands around the length left out of his mouth and stroke at it, which keeps him mollified, even if Bucky should try a bit harder to deepthroat him. Before he can come, he lifts Bucky off of his dick. Bucky blinks and sniffles unsurely as oxygen floods into his lungs. He didn’t–

Bucky flinches as a string of come lands over his eye. Another one, in his hair. He breathes shakily and retches shallowly and waits for Brock to be done. Thankfully, Brock isn’t very chatty after sex. He just throws a few tissues at him and starts scrolling through his phone, dick still hanging out of his undone fly. Bucky used to crave intimacy and conversation afterwards but nowadays he’s just so excited to run off to the shower and have a few minutes to himself.

He starts running the shower in the conjoined bathroom before he even starts undressing. He usually likes to let the mirror steam up so he doesn’t have to look at himself more than necessary. It’s not that the dresses and lipstick and frilly blouses don’t make him dysphoric, and he can still see the contours of his body, his chest, his waist, even through the thin layer of steam collected on the mirror, but it makes his evenings just a bit easier.

Sometimes he dares to use Brock’s body wash, the one that smells like, according to the bottle, a volcano, which makes Bucky giggle a bit. Brock rarely notices when he does, and Bucky can usually pass it off rather easily, oh, we’re almost out of mine, if he mentions it. But tonight he doesn’t. Tonight, he scrubs himself down with his apricot-sweet gel and lathers his hair until it’s sleek and shiny with coconut shampoo and conditioner. Sometimes, he tries to buy nice girly things, scents that make him happy, in some lame attempt to convince himself that he can be happy as a woman. That he can embrace it, embrace the delicate femininity Brock so desperately wants him to embody. So far, he hasn’t had much luck.

[steverumlow]

[ramp-it-up]

Taste

Pairing: Mob Boss! Sam Wilson x Rumlow! Reader; Bucky Barnes x Reader (platonic); Steve Rogers x Reader (platonic); Brock Rumlow x Reader (platonic)

Word Count: around 4K

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. Childhood hoods, childhood crush, childhood nicknames based upon appearance, young Brock, Steve, Bucky and Sam, skinny Stevie Rogers, sibings being sibings, bratty behavior, Angst, allusion to underage drinking and crime, toxic parents, protective bothers, allusions to underaged drinking, bratty behavior, a punch in the nose (accidental), bloody nose, shirtless Sam, kind of innocent reader, fingering, oral sex (female receiving) loss of virginity, pain during sex, p in v, raw sex (wrap it or don’t tap it), praise kink, after care. This entire fic is comprised of two flashbacks.

A/N: This is in the same AU Try a Little Tenderness and The Representative, and comes directly after Addicted To You. The AU is called This Thing of Ours.

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You were ten years old, it was 2002, and you were spending the summer in Brooklyn at your father’s house. 

It was long before the mob war that he created which separated your brother Brock from his best friends. 

And it was a time that would change you forever.

The July afternoon was hot and so was the block. Music was blaring from the speakers of someone’s radio and there was a buzz in the air: adolescence, ambition and a potential for violence. 

You a slave to a page in my rhyme book/Gettin' big money, playboy, your time's up/Where them gangstas at?/ Where them dimes at?/They shootin'! Aw, made you look

They called you Bunny because of your teeth and your size. But you were a scrapper and could stand up for yourself. Your father taught you that. 

You also had a smart mouth, and roasted anyone who dared talk about you or your family. 

Your mother taught you that. 

When you came to your father’s house while your mother took her annual girls trip that summer, you found that your big brother was suddenly different. Gone was the quiet gangly 12 year old who drew up plans for world domination in composition books in his room; a wiry 13 year old who had friends who were just as scrappy and hungry as he was had taken his place.

Little Stevie Rogers never backed down from a fight. That’s where his best friend Bucky Barnes came in, backing him up when Stevie was against the wall. Brock was the kid with vision, the one who had a plan to get them where they wanted to be.

In power.

Your brother tried to ignore you, but you trailed after him because there was nothing better to do. One day, you sat in the stoop and watched him and his friends working to open the fire hydrant across the street from your dad’s house.

Your brother felt your eyes on them as you hugged your knees.You were a sight, bushy hair, glasses, braces, and an intense look on your face. He felt bad. 

For a second.

“Why don’t you go on over there and play dolls with Shandy and “n’em, Bunny?”

You glanced over at the girls playing on the next stoop, their braids wilting in the sun. They were playing with stiff dolls with stiff plastic hair and legs that didn’t bend. Not your scene.

You just poked your tongue out at him and moved to stand in the water now dripping out of the hydrant, your strawberry sneakers with the bows getting drenched. You smiled down at them, thinking of how mad your mother would be.

“Aw, c’mon Brock. She ain’t hurtin’ nobody. Let her have some fun.”

Bucky’s blue eyes shone down at you and you pushed up your glasses and looked up at him, squinting in the sun. Stevie’s bony elbow bumped into yours as you hopped to avoid the bruising gush of water along the pavement as they succeeded in their quest.

“Sorry.”

Stevie smiled at you. He really was a nice boy, even though he was pugnacious. Bucky was a smart ass, however.

“You don’t want her to melt, do ya? Your old man would skin you alive.” 

Stevie and Bucky laughed as Brock scowled. He didn’t have time for benevolence or little sisters. He had plans. He shook his head.

“Focus. We gotta stick with the plan. Sammy Wilson is coming over to talk about what’s happening tonight, and she doesn’t need to be around.”

You flipped Brock off behind Bucky and Stevie’s back, and he just scowled harder at you. No matter what you did, he didn’t engage with you like you wanted him to. How boring.

Bucky whistled. 

“Wilson is fast. That dude can run his ass off.”

Sam was on the track team at the high school down the block.

“I can beat him.”

Stevie puffed his bird chest out and Brock and Bucky laughed at him. You felt bad. 

“I believe you Stevie.”

He grinned at you and ducked his head.

Brock rolled his eyes and you flipped him off.

He pointed back at you.

“I’m sick of you. I’m telling Dad.”

You thrilled at the attention.

“Go ahead, I’ll tell him what you’re up to.”

Brock grabbed you by the shirt, snarling.

“You better not say a fucking word.”

You pulled away and landed on the pavement, your knee skinned. You kneeled, bending over to look at it, and to keep your tears inside, when you heard the voice of an angel.

“Need some help?”

You looked up into a face haloed by the sun. You reached for the hand that was offered and stood up to look into the face of 14 year old Sammy Wilson. And you were done for.

That gap tooth smile, those eyes. That skin.

You stared at him as you registered laughter around you. Sam spoke again.

“You okay?”

He seemed like he really wanted to know how you were.

“Y-yeah.”

He chuckled.

“You better clean that off.”

Sam took your hand and led you back over to the hydrant. He kneeled down, cupped water in his hand and cleaned off your knee.

“Sssssss!” 

It stung.

“Sorry. But it’s for your own good.”

You felt warm, and not just from the heat, as you let him take care of you.

You stared at him as he finished.

“That’s the best I can do. You need to get a band-aid.”

“Okay.” 

You would do anything he said. Sam looked up at you and it was like the air was sucked out of your body. You didn’t know what this feeling was, but it intrigued you.

“No problem. I got a little sister at home. Sarah. Just looking out. You gotta be careful.”

He smiled as he stood up and walked away. 

You watched him move over to the other boys, forever changed because that’s when you fell in love with Sammy Wilson.

You spent that last summer in Brooklyn as the unofficial mascot of the Savage Crims, the newest gang on the block. Steve, Bucky, and Sam adopted you and you became scout, lookout, and spy. It was the best summer of your life.

Your mother moved to Los Angeles that fall and took you with her. She started dating more legitimate businessmen, meaning the same type of men as your father, just with generational wealth and privilege.

It was a different world than New York. You went to fancy private schools and learned how to play the game. You were now a “friendly black hottie,” sidekick to the main character in every scene. 

But you were smart. 

As you grew older, you watched and learned and played the part, and soon, you were running the game. By the time you graduated from high school, you were the center of attention, just the way you liked it. 

Your mother was engaged, and you and she were on the cusp of something she’d dreamed of her entire life: being iconic.

You started your first two years in college at UCLA, but you convinced your mother that fashion was how you would enable yourself to meet the best type of men, and that Parsons School of design in New York was the place to be. 

You acted as if you were uninterested in reconnecting with Brock, who your mom thought hadn’t contacted you in eight years aside from telling you that your father had died.

You convinced your mother that you wouldn’t venture off the island of Manhattan, and she believed you because she was in the midst of applying the full court press on her man.

The truth was, you and Brock kept in touch regularly, and you were eager to see your brother again. 

And his friends.

So you flew back East in 2012, 10 years after you left, butterflies threatening to fly out of your mouth as you landed at Laguardia. 

After a few weeks in the city establishing your dominance, you showed up at the boys’offices unannounced. He knew you were in town, and told you about how successful he was now, with the help of Bucky and Steve. 

And Sam. 

You were going to go see just how successful everyone was. 

And how lucky you could get.

“Who the hell is that?”

Bucky peered at the camera about the buzzer to the brownstone. Steve came over to look as well.

“It can’t be… Brock, c’mere.”

“What is it? We’re trying to work out this next shipment…”

Brock looked at the camera as Sam watched his jaw drop from the table.

“Who is it?”

“Fuck! That’s Bunny!”

Brock backed up as Steve pressed the buzzer. He opened the door to wait for you to climb the stairs.

“Stevie!?” 

Your excited shriek was muffled as the now beefy blonde picked you up immediately to twirl you around into the loft space.

You stood back, feeling his muscles through his shirt.

“Wow! You have filled out.”

“I must have learned from you…” 

Steve looked you up and down when you heard a roar in your ear.

“Bunny!”

Bucky gave you a bear hug to where you couldn’t breathe. You pounded his back and punched him in the pecs when he let go. You caught your breath and then turned to Brock, whose eyes were shining.

“God, you’re grown up. You’re not my little Bunny anymore.”

“Shut up, stupid.”

You embraced your brother, surprised at your emotion. You were choking up, about to sob in his arms.

“I missed you.”

You whispered into his shirt.

“Missed you too, kid.”

You let him go and you dabbed at your eyes. You heard someone clear their throat and looked over to see Sam standing next to you.

“Hey Sammy!”

You tried to make your voice light, so as not to betray your feelings. You’d replayed this moment in your mind a million times.

He was a man now. And damn. What a man. Tall, dark and handsome. But with that same smile. 

Sam tried to be cool. Brock was right. You weren’t little any more. A full grown woman. He tried to not check you out because he knew Brock was watching, but damn. You were beautiful. All over.

“Well? Can I get a hug?”

Sam unfroze himself.

“Of course.”

You seemed to melt into him, your breasts pressed against his chest, his lats seeming to mold around you. He could do this all day. 

When Sam opened his eyes, he saw Bucky’s raised eyebrow and he released you, stepping back and over to the table to try and pretend that all of his senses were not tuned on you.

“How’s Sarah?”

Sam smiled.

“Good. You should call her.”

You smiled back

“I will.”

Bucky interrupted.

“Tell me all about your socialite world, Ms.Y/L/N.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Rumlow ‘til I die.”

You locked eyes with Sam.

“Who does a girl have to screw to get a drink around here?”

You joked and the room fell silent.

“No one.” Brock deadpanned. “And you’ll wait another year until you’re legal.” 

You rolled your eyes.

“Yes, like everything is legal up in here.”

It was just like old times: you giving them all hell. Although Sam’s hell was different now. 

Bucky handed you a bottle of water.

“Thanks Buck!” 

You sat and crossed your legs across from Sam and Brock.

“So. How’s things?”

You four talked for hours, ordering pizza from Sal’s and shooting the shit. It was almost midnight when they drew straws to see who would take you home. Sam drew the short straw. 

Lucky him.

You rode in the passenger seat of Sam’s BMW, arms folded across your chest, an adorable bratty pout on your delectable lips. He’d been watching that mouth all night, torturing himself with visions of those in various places on his body. He was getting hard. 

Sam stifled a moan which he tried to play off.

You jumped a little when he growled at you.

“What the hell is wrong with you, little girl?”

You turned toward him, mad.

“First of all, I’m not a little girl any more.”

“Yeah, Right.”

It sounded dismissive, but Sam was really just agreeing with you.

“Second of all, y’all really drew straws to take me home?”

You glared at him as he laughed at your outrage.

“I’m not the little tagalong from years ago. I didn’t even need you to take me home. I could call anyone to come get me. To come get this.”

You held up your flip phone and indicated your body. Sam’s dark eyes took you in and felt possessive. Holy shit, he was in deep. 

“I’m sure you got lots of hardheads after you.” 

Sam clenched his jaw and looked back at the road as he drove to The Village.

“We’re busy men, Bunny. We got important work to do. Brock will be working for a couple more hours, Bucky is running the streets, and Steve probably has a date right now…”

“At 1 am? You mean a booty call.”

Sam continued, ignoring you.

“But what will never change is us protecting you. We’re family, Bunny.”

You pushed his head and he glared at you.

“Same little boys is all I see. Important crimes, you mean.”

You huffed back into your seat, your breasts bouncing in your spandex dress. Sam fought to keep his eyes on the road.

“I’ll show you a little boy. Don’t try me, Bunny.”

You turned back to him, batting your eyes, but your attitude on 1000.

“I’d love to try you Sammy.”

Sam had the urge to take you by the throat and slide you up and down his dick, but he just squeezed the steering wheel harder, trying to ignore you. 

“Hey Sammy.”

He sideyed you. Your voice was too sweet.

“Let’s go get a drink.”

“Fuck no!”

“C’mon, don’t be a prude. I drank all the time in Europe this summer.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t Europe, and I don’t give a fuck.”

You sat back in your seat, grumbling and frustrated. He would never see you as anything but little Bunny. By the time you got to campus, you didn’t even wait for Sam to park before you jumped out. He caught up with you, long legs gaining ground quickly. He grabbed your arm.

“Hey!”

“Let me go!”

You turned around and popped him in the nose by reflex.

“Shit!” 

Sam held his face and doubled over.

“Oh, my damn! I’m sorry Sammy. Let me see.”

“Stop…”

Sam pulled away from you and as his hands moved, blood spattered all over his shirt and the concrete below him.

“Oh no. Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

Sam was moving away.

“Just.. leave me alone. I’m okay…”

“No you’re not. I’m sorry Sammy. Come up to my place. Please. I’ll clean you up.”

Sam opened his watery eyes to see your remorseful face and let you lead him up to your apartment, up three flights of stairs. You took him immediately to the bathroom and you washed him up, giving him a wet washcloth and telling him to lean his head forward, indicating the toilet.

Sam sat down and did as he was told, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You sat on the floor below him and stared up at him, hugging your knees.

“I’m so so so so sorry Sammy…”

He looked at you, silent, and continuing to pinch his nose.

You stayed with him for 15 minutes until he stopped bleeding and stood up again, cleaning up a bit more. You felt so bad.

You stared at his shirt as he stood.

“Jeez, Sammy, take that shirt off, let me soak it.”

Sam remained silent, but took off his shirt.

You bent over to get some hydrogen peroxide from the cabinet, scrubbed the shirt a little, then soaked it in cold water.

Sam was watching your ass, almost feral at the fact that you were such a brat. You needed to be tamed. But you were Brock’s kid sister. He was so torn. 

“You can grab a sweatshirt out of my –” 

You turned around toward and stopped mid thought, mind blank at the sight of Sam’s shirtless form.

“Holy shit.”

Sam gave you a lopsided grin.

“You keep sweatshirts in your holy shit?”

You didn’t even hear the tease, just licked your lips as you stepped toward him.

“Sammy?”

Sam gulped and tried to calm down. But the look on your face was everything at the moment. He knew he probably should have, but he didn’t stop you as you entered his space. You reached your hand up to his nose.

“Are you ok?”

“I think so.” 

Sam reached up and manually shifted his nose. 

“Probably just broken for the third time. Been in a couple of scraps.”

Your fingers entwined with his and you brought them to your lips. Tears started to slide down your face.

“I’m sorry.”

Sam wiped the tears from your face with his thumbs.

“Don’t cry. I’m ok.”

He pulled you in for a hug, and then leaned back.

As you looked up at him, he whispered, “So damn beautiful, Bunny…” 

Suddenly, he was kissing your face, collecting your salt water with his lips. Then, he pulled away.

“What are we doing?” 

You began to nuzzle his palm, while your hands reached for his pecs.

“Stop thinking so much, Sammy…”

“Thinking’s what got us into this..”

You nodded.

“D’you know how long I’ve been thinking about this?”

Your eyes followed your hands as they traced his chest, then his sternum down to his happy trail. His stomach clenched at the sensation. He was too far gone.

“How long?”

“From the first time someone tried to be with me sexually. I never really wanted to, I mean I’ve messed around, I can suck your soul out, but I’ve never wanted anyone inside of me.”

You were tracing his hard on outside of his pants, your face upturned now.

“Are you trying to say that…you’re…”

You nodded again.

“You were always in the back of my mind, Sam. I only want you.”

Sam tilted his head downward and captured your lips in a kiss, as though it were inevitable.

You both drew back and then your lips crashed together again, your bodies pressed up against each other urgently.

The kiss was everything you ever imagined and everything Sam didn't know that he wanted. Your hands went for his belt buckle. At that moment, Sam placed his hands on your arms and pushed you away from him.

“We can’t do this.”

You nodded, stepped back and took a deep breath.

“You’re right. You’re one of my brother’s best friends. No need for you to pop my cherry or anything.”

You two stared at each other. Then you licked your lips. Sam cocked his eyebrow, trying to restrain himself from the animalistic urges your filthy mouth gave him.

“You little brat.”

Sam grabbed your neck to pull you close to him. He reached down to pull your skirt up and he rubbed your ass like he was trying to shine it. He then put both hands on you to spread your cheeks apart. Your wetness was evident in the sound. You buried your face in his chest, embarrassed.

“Sounds like you really want this.”

For once in your life, you were speechless, and Sam reached down and angled your head up so he could look at you.

“I need you tonight Sam.”

You kissed him again and tried to get on your knees. But Sam stopped you and led you over to your bed.

“You’re the queen right now.”

You pulled off your dress and stood there in your bra and panties as Sam pulled you toward your bed to lay beside him, his hand caressing down the side of your body. 

He moved his fingers over the lace of your bra to find your nipple, and when it was discovered, he pinched it to see your reaction. The way your eyes closed halfway and your mouth opened was everything. He reached behind you to expertly unhook your bra and looked down on you.

“You're so beautiful.”

And he dipped his head running his tongue around the edges of your areola, making your nipple rock hard against his breath. Then, he started sucking in earnest, his huge hand going to tweak and play with the other. You threw your head back in earnest, the feeling in your cunt growing with each pull of his mouth. You started moaning.

“You mean to tell me…. That no one has ever… had the pleasure…”

Sam asked the important question between having his mouth on you. He couldn’t get enough.

You shook your head and furrowed your brow. It was taking you out of the moment. Sex was just a means to an end for you up until now.

“I suck them off, and they’re satisfied. S’not a big deal….. Ahhhhh.”

Sam stopped what he was doing to look into your eyes. 

“It is a big deal, Bunny. You deserve everything.”

Sam tenderly kissed your lips as he pulled your panties off, and then returned to your breasts. Tears slipped down your face to the pillow beneath your head as he finally parted your legs. His hand, led by his long middle finger slid down your wet, wet folds to play in your slick. 

“Mmmmmm. That’s that shit I like.” 

Sam rumbled in his chest, and the vibrations reached your nipple, causing you to arch into his mouth and hand. Sam’s fingers worked your clit and you could feel it get hard and plucky. You heard the sloshing wetness of your arousal. So did Sam. He pulled off to look at you again.

“You ever play with yourself?”

The look on his face was part possession and part genuine concern.

“Of course. But not this goooddddd…. Shit Sam. I just hit it and quit it…. Fuckkkk that feels good.”

Sam was plucking your nipple with one hand and rubbing your clit in expert circles with the other, watching the ecstasy on your face as you neared your peak. 

“C’mon for me now. Cum. right here in my hand…Yes…. That’s a girl…”

It hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Holy mother of……ssshhhhhhiiiiittttt! Sam! Fuckkkk fuck fuck fuck!”

You tried to grab his hand to move it away, but he was strong. Oh so strong. He didn’t stop.

“Sam… I… Sam stop..I can't…”

“You can, and you will. Take it. You’re tough. You can take it.” 

You convulsed as your pulses slowed down and you tried to relax.

“That’s a girl. Just give it to me. Let me have it. Love that shit. You’re beautiful right now, you know that?”

You calmed under his praise and got into the groove of his pleasure.

Sam’s fingers started exploring you, one of them sliding easily inside you, so he added another, but when he reached the second knuckle, you clamped down hard.

“Shit, Bunny. You’re so so tight.”

Sam looked at you with lust and you could feel his cock throbbing against your thigh, his precum making a mess.

“Thought that first one would have loosened you up. Looks like you need at least one more.”

Your eyes grew wide as he slid down your body, fingers still inside you, but now his mouth clamping around your clit, which was still sensitive. Your knees closed around his head and he pried them off with one hand.

“Take it Bunny. You deserve.”

It was the last thing he said before he destroyed your soul with his mouth. He licked and sucked and lapped, and his fingers slid inside you and curled the spark of pain muted by the fireworks behind your eyes as you came harder than you ever had in your life, including a few minutes earlier.

“Hnnnnh, hunnnnnnhh. Sam…”

He was kneeling up now, grabbing for his pants and a condom. When you saw the foil packet, you stopped him.

“No Sammy. Wanna feel you.”

Sam raised his eyebrow.

“Mom put me on the pill when I was 13. It’s like a vitamin now. I’m good.”

Sam nodded and his thumb went to your still vibrating clit as he swiped his head in your viscous slit. He managed to pop his thicker-than-you-thought head inside you, but you yelped in pain as he tried to slide in.

He leaned down, arms on either side of your head as you clutched his shoulders.

“You good?”

You nodded, tears in your eyes as you smiled.

“I want it, I need it. Give it to me.”

Sam looked at you, shook his head and smiled.

He slid inside you slowly, seeming to grow wider and longer with each inch that he gave you. The burning between your legs was soothed by his praise and tender kisses on your forehead.

“There you go.  Feels so so good for me Bunny. You’re doing so good. I can’t believe this… Make me wanna cum already. This pussy is so tight. And so good. Better than I’ve ever had…”

Sam relaxed you, and you began to enjoy that he was taking you apart. When your moans matched his thrusts was when he started to give it to you, his will power waning.

You were the epitome of desire.

He hiked your leg above his hip so that he could dig deeper and his thumb found your clit again.

“One more Bunny. Just one more…”

He felt you flutter around him and he gripped the base of his cock. 

“Sammy….”

“Yes… oh… fuck yes….”

“Ohhh! Ah!”

Your cream gushed around him as you came and Sam grunted and let go inside you.

“Fuuuuucckkkkkkkk aahhhhhhh ahhhh. Fuck!”

Sam felt like he his balls would never empty and he slumped on top of you, feeling your arms snake around him to hold him.

“Mmmm… Sammy.”

He could hear the smile in your voice. He leaned up off of you and kissed your nose, looking into your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You smiled at him and Sam’s heart was gone. You had it locked up.

“Better than okay.”

He kissed you again.

“Stay right here.”

He went to the bathroom, coming backwith a washcloth and tenderly cleaned you up. You heard the bath running.

“You’re going to be sore.”

“Yes. I’m going to feel you for a week.”

Sam grinned and you saw his cock come to life. You smirked and gingerly moved ot get out of bed.

“Join me in the bathtub Sammy. Wanna try the wet and wild….”

Sam was hypnotized by the sway of your ass.

He didn’t think of the implications of what just happened. He’d had a taste, and his hunger was voracious. He just wanted you.

And that would become a problem.

Reblogging is always a good thing if you liked it.

[literaryavenger]

Captain America: The Winter Soldier - 3

Summary: You find out the truth about Fury and, after he brings you up to speed, you make plans to take down Hydra for good.

Pairing: platonic!Steve Rogers x F!Reader, platonic!Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader, platonic!Sam Wilson x F!Reader, platonic!Nick Fury x F!Reader, platonic!Maria Hill x F!Reader

Warnings: Language. Pierce being a dick. Mentions of death. Mentions of fighting and fire arms. The Winter Soldier, he's a warning. My poor attempts at being funny. Idk, everything else in the movie?

Word Count: 3.8K

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The ride is quiet until Steve, who was shocked into silence until this moment, says “It was him.”

You look at him on your right but his gaze is to the floor. “He looked right at me like he didn’t even know me.”

“How's that even possible?” Sam says from in front of Steve. “It was, like, seventy years ago.”

“Zola.” Steve answers without skipping a beat. “Bucky's whole unit was captured in '43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him and…” he trails off, looking up at Sam.

“None of that's your fault, Steve.” Natasha says and you turn your attention on her.

“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.” You're too busy looking at Natasha’s palling face to be sad for Steve.

“We need to get a doctor here.” You say, your eyes landing on the blood on her shoulder, which apparently Sam noticed too.

“We don't put pressure on that wound,” he says, turning to the agent next to him “she's gonna bleed out here in the truck.”

The guard pulls out an electric rod and looks like he's gonna use it on Sam but, suddenly, he pokes the other guard with it.

You're all so fucking confused until the guard takes out his helmet to reveal a groaning Maria Hill.

“That thing was squeezing my brain.” she looks at all of you while you let out a breath of relief, but she lands on Sam and then looks back at Steve, pointing at him. “Who’s this guy?”

“Long story” you say and, when she narrows her eyes at you, you roll your own. “I’m handcuffed too, I’m obviously on your side.” you say while raising your cuffed hands and raising an eyebrow.

She softens but relented only after receiving a nod from Steve, confirming what you're saying. 

She helps you escape and soon you're entering a seemingly abandoned facility, Natasha leaning on you for balance.

A man you recognize as one of the doctors that were operating on Fury runs towards you and you frown. 

What the hell’s going on?

“GSW. She’s lost at least a pint.” Hill says to the doctor.

“Maybe two.” Sam adds.

“Let me take her.” the doctor says, but Maria stops him.

“She’ll want to see him first.” she says while she leads the way, the doctor helping you carry Natasha. 

Hill takes you to a room where you’re all shocked to find Fury lying in a bed, alive.

“About damn time.” he says and you almost cry after hearing his voice.

You all sit down and, as the doctor starts to work on Natasha’s wound next to you, you all listen intently as Fury explains what’s going on.

“Lacerated spinal column,” he ends by listing his injuries “cracked sternum, shattered collarbone, perforated liver, one hell of a headache.”

“Don't forget your collapsed lung.” the doctor says from Nat’s other side.

“Oh, let's not forget that.” Fury says sarcastically “Otherwise, I'm good.”

“They cut you open,” Natasha says, you knew she took it hard after all. “your heart stopped.”

“Tetrodotoxin B.” He says like it was obvious. “Slows the pulse to one beat a minute. Banner developed it for stress. Didn't work so great for him, but we found a use for it.”

“Why all the secrecy?” Steve voices what you're all thinking.

“Yeah.” you add, obviously hurt. “Why not just tell us?”

“Any attempt on the director's life had to look successful.” Hill answers for him.

“Can't kill you if you're already dead.” Fury seems amused with himself, then gets more serious. “Besides, I wasn't sure who to trust.”

You try not to take that too personally and, glancing at Natasha, you can tell when she meets your eyes that she's trying to do the same.

-

Fury gives you guys some time to process everything before you move to a room with a table to start strategizing on how to move forward.

“This man declined the Nobel Peace Prize.” Fury says while looking at a picture of a young Pierce. “He said, Peace wasn't an achievement, it was a responsibility. See, it's stuff like this that gives me trust issues.” He finishes looking at you guys.

“We have to stop the launch.” Natasha says, ignoring Fury’s last remark.

“I don't think the Council's accepting my calls anymore.” He says while opening a case containing three chips.

“What's that?” you and Sam ask at the same time, glancing at each other.

“Once the Helicarriers reach three thousand feet,” Hill says, turning her computer around and showing you “they'll triangulate with Insight satellites becoming fully weaponized.”

“We need to breach those carriers and replace their targeting blades with our own.” Fury cuts in.

“One or two won't cut it. We need to link all three carriers for this to work, because if even one of those ships remains operational” she hesitates for a moment “a whole lot of people are gonna die.”

“We have to assume everyone aboard those carriers is HYDRA. We need to get past them, insert the server blades, and maybe, just maybe, we can salvage what's left-” Fury gets cut off by Steve.

“We're not salvaging anything.” he says sharply. “We're not just taking down the carriers, Nick. We're taking down SHIELD.”

“SHIELD had nothing to do with it.” Fury says defensively.

“You gave me this mission, this is how it ends.” Steve has his Captain voice on and you know there's no room for discussion. “SHIELD's been compromised, you said so yourself. HYDRA grew right under your nose and nobody noticed.”

“Why do you think we're meeting in this cave? I noticed.” Nobody else says anything, just watching back and forth from Fury to Steve.

“And how many paid the price before you did?”

“Look, I didn't know about Barnes.” Fury says after a moment.

“Even if you had, would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that, too?” He's almost glaring now. “SHIELD, HYDRA, it all goes.”

“He's right.” Hill simply says, nodding.

Fury looks at Natasha, but she simply stares back and he knows he’s not gonna have any help from her, so he turns to you.

“You’re okay with this, Agent?” he asks you and you don’t even have to think twice about it.

“We took an oath to protect people, Fury.” you tell him, holding his gaze. “If taking down Shield does that, and I believe it does, I’m game.” you shrug. 

He then turns to the last person in the room.

“Don't look at me.” Sam says, also shrugging. “I do what he does, just slower.”

You grin at him while Fury scoffs a little.

“Well,” He starts, sitting back and sighting, looking at all of you before staring back at Steve. “It looks like you're giving the orders now, Captain.”

After you make our plan, Steve goes outside for some air. You and Sam watch him leave, then look at each other, a silent question hanging between you two.

“You go.” you tell him and he nods before following after the supersoldier.

When you turn around you’re met with Fury and Hill’s curious looks and Natasha’s smirking face.

“What?” you say annoyed, crossing your arms defensively in front of you.

“You and Wilson, huh.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Romanoff.” you tell her as you sit back down. “He’s a nice person, you know as well as I do how rare it is to find that in our line of work.” your gaze shifts to the table but you can still feel their gazes on you.

“You couldn’t have known, YN.” Fury says, seemingly reading your mind. Your eyes snap up to his, he's never called you by your first name.

“I should’ve, Nick.” you exchange the favor. “All the closed meetings, all the shady attitudes… I should’ve seen it. I’m trained to see it.” you're frustrated with yourself, with all the adrenaline out of your body now you’re left only with guilt.

Surely if you’d have seen it sooner you could’ve done something. Maybe the outcome would’ve been different.

“They tricked all of us.” Nat says, glancing at Fury and resting her hand on your shoulder.

“You’re a good agent,” Hill interjects, “don’t doubt yourself because of those traitors.”

“You’re right.” You nodded after a moment, putting your hand on top of Nat’s on your shoulder and looking back at Fury. “You’re all right.”

As you finish the details of the plan, only one thing is missing.

“How do we get the Director there?” Hill asks after Sam joins you, informing you that Steve went looking for a uniform, whatever that means, and would meet you there.

“Uh, I have an idea.” you says, leaning back in your chair and smirking.

They all suit up and leave after making sure your comms work.

“Be careful.” you hug Natasha before they leave “All of you.” you add looking over her shoulder at Hill that nods and Sam that grins and then winks at you.

You go back to the room where Fury is and he asks, “So where’s our ride?”

“On its way.” you simply say, checking your phone.

You can hear the others through the comms as they meet up with Steve, his own voice coming to your ear as he puts his own earpiece in.

“Where’s Y/N?” he questions the team.

“Awe, you miss me already, Cap?” you say and can hear the other’s laughter.

“You wish.” you can practically hear his eyes rolling.

“I do wish.” you answer, laughing. “I’m with Fury, don’t worry we’ll be there in time.”

You’re both suited up too when you hear loud noises coming from outside, Fury gives you a confused look but you just smile and wiggle your eyebrows playfully as you lead the way to the roof.

A helicopter lands and the pilot gets out and makes his way towards you, shaking your hand before heading downstairs where a car is waiting for him. You make your way to the pilot’s seat and Fury takes the co-pilot’s seat.

“Where did you even get this?” He questions you after putting on the headphones while you start the helicopter, ready for take off.

“You’re not the only one with connections, Director.” you answer, glancing at him with a smile and can hear him laugh next to you.

The whole time you can hear the team’s conversation, everything’s going according to plan thankfully, and nobody’s gotten hurt yet.

Just as you hear Natasha say “don’t worry, company’s coming” to who you assume is Pierce you land the helicopter on the landing pad.

You and Fury make your way inside and Pierce is nothing short of surprised at seeing Fury alive, much to your delight.

“Did you get my flowers?” he says sarcastically and, when Fury only glares at him, he turns his attention to you. “Agent.”

“Asshole.” you greet him with a smile.

“I'm glad you're here, Nick.” he turns his attention back to him.

“Really? Cause I thought you had me killed.”

“You know how the game works.” Pierce says, as calm as a sociopath.

“So why make me head of SHIELD?” Fury has to know.

“Cause you were the best and the most ruthless person I ever met.”

“I did what I did to protect people.”

“Our enemies are your enemies, Nick. Disorder, war. It's just a matter of time before a dirty bomb goes off in Moscow, or an EMP fries Chicago. Diplomacy? Holding action, a band-aid. And you know where I learned that?” He doesn’t give him time to answer, clearly enjoying his evil mastermind speech. “Bogota. You didn't ask, you just did what had to be done. I can bring order to the lives of seven billion people by sacrificing twenty million. It's the next step, Nick, if you have the courage to take it.”

“No,” Fury says, taking Pierce to the retinal scanner, guns on him from both Nat and you “I have the courage not to.”

“Retinal scanner active.” the computer says.

“You don't think we wiped your clearance from the system?” Pierce says smugly.

“I know you erased my password, probably deleted my retinal scan, but if you want to stay ahead of me, Mr. Secretary,” he takes off his eyepatch to reveal his scarred eye and you grimace. “you need to keep both eyes open.” 

They both look into the retinal scanner, with Fury using his injured eye.

“Alpha Level confirmed.” The computer says “Encryption code accepted. Safeguards removed.”

You can hear Steve and Sam talking in your ear as you hold Pierce at gunpoint while Nat finishes uploading the files online.

Sam saying to Steve that he’s heavier than he looks makes you smile, Steve answering “I had a big breakfast” makes you almost snort because Sam made him that breakfast, but you stay professional.

You hear Sam apologizing to Steve after being grounded, his suit broken, and then Maria telling Sam that Rumow’s heading your way. Sam says he’s on it and then you hear Steve trying to plead with Bucky before he starts fighting him.

“Done.” Natasha finally says “And it's trending.”

Just then Pierce sets off the pins he gave the council members, causing it to burn a hole into them. You, Natasha and Fury point your guns at Pierce but he turns to Natasha.

“Unless you want a two inch hole in your sternum, I'd put that gun down.” Natasha doesn't back down though “That was armed the moment you pinned it on.” 

You all reluctantly lower your weapons.

You can hear Sam saying “Man, shut the hell up” and frown, then you hear him fighting probably with Rumlow and you sincerely hope Sam lands some good punches.

“Lieutenant, how much longer?” Pierce asks into his radio.

“Sixty-five seconds to satellite link. Targeting grid engaged. Lowering weapons array now.” you hear the response.

You hear Hill counting down too. “Thirty seconds, Cap!”

you can hear Steve get out a strangled “Stand by.”

You hear him struggle, then he says “Charlie-” but gets interrupted by a gunshot and you hold your breath, already imagining the worst and barely hearing Pierce talking into his radio.

Just as they’re about to give the order to fire you hear Steve again saying “Charlie locked.” and you feel like all three of you let out a breath of relief at the same time. Although your relief is short lived as you hear Steve telling Maria to fire.

You all look outside as the Helicarriers start going down.

“What a waste.” Pierce says, disgusted at the sight in front of him.

“Are you still on the fence about Rogers' chances?” Nat says as smugly as she can with an active weapon pinned to her chest, but Pierce is having none of it.

“Time to go, Councilwoman.” he grabs her arm “This way, come on. You're gonna fly me out of here.”

“You know, there was a time I would have taken a bullet for you.” Fury tells him as they start to leave.

“You already did.” Pierce glances back at him “You will again when it's useful.” before he can even finish the sentence Natasha activates a small disc that emits an electric shock through her whole body and disables the pin, giving you a chance to kick the phone out of Pierce’s hand while it reboots. 

Fury takes this time to pick up a gun and shoots twice at Pierce, then walks over to you as you kneel next to Natasha who’s unconscious on the floor.

“Romanoff!” he says “Natasha!”

“Tasha, come on!” you say desperately.

She slowly opens her eyes. “Ow.” she lets out, before looking up at you two. “Those really do sting.” 

You let out a breathless laugh and help her up, glancing back at Pierce dying behind you, a quiet ‘Hail HYDRA’ coming out of his mouth.

You help Natasha into the helicopter, before taking the pilot’s seat again, Fury next to you.

“Please, tell me you got that chopper in the air!” you hear Sam say.

“Sam, where are you?” Natasha asks him as you try to look around for him.

“41st floor, north-west corner!” he sounds like he’s out of breath.

“We're on it, stay where you are.” You say, making your way to him.

“Not an option!” You can hear him pant like he’s running and as you look up you see him jumping out a window, so you tilt the helicopter just enough to allow him to slide in through the door sideways, and then you straighten just as fast, getting out of there just in time as the whole building comes down.

“41st floor! 41st!” Sam yells once he’s caught his breath.

“It's not like they put the floor numbers on the outside of the building!” You yell back at him while glancing behind you as he glares at you.

“Hill, where's Steve?” Natasha says in the comms “You got a location on Rogers?”

You fly around the wreckage, all of you trying to locate Steve although it feels almost impossible with all the damage left by the Helicarriers. 

How can you find him? How could he even be alive after not only that fall, but all of the pieces still falling from the sky? He could’ve been knocked out, he could be at the bottom of the Pontomac, slowly drowning-

“There!” Sam interrupts your pessimistic thoughts as he yells and points at a figure along the shore of the river. “That’s him!”

You land as close as him as you can, running out with Sam beside you, Nat and Fury a little behind. As you get close you see that it is indeed Steve, kudos to Sam for his falcon eyes. 

The more you get close the more you worry, he looks bloody and beaten. When you’re finally kneeling next to him, you’re praying that he’s alive.

Sam’s hand flies to his neck and you can tell he lets out a relieved sigh, before turning to you. “He’s got a pulse.” he says and you mirror his action.

You pick him up together and take him to the helicopter, placing him inside while Nat takes the pilot’s seat this time and goes straight to the hospital.

-

With Steve being in the hospital and Fury being technically dead, the joy of being summoned at a committee hearing falls on you and Natasha. After being sworn in, the Committee General asks the first question.

“Why haven't we yet heard from Captain Rogers?” You and Natasha look at each other and she answers.

“We don't know what there is left for him to say. I think the wreck in the middle of the Potomac made his point fairly eloquently.”

“Well, he could explain how this country's expected to maintain its national security now that he, and you, have laid waste to our intelligence apparatus.”

“HYDRA was selling you lies, not intelligence.” you interject.

“Many of which you both seem to have had a personal hand in telling.” you hate to admit it but he’s got you there.

“Agents, you should know that there are some on this committee who feel, given your service record, both for this country” Scudder then looks directly at Nat “and against it, that you belong in a penitentiary, not mouthing off on Capitol Hill.” he says and it takes everything in you not to snap at him as you clench your jaw.

Natasha can see it in your face as you look at each other, so she goes ahead and talks first.

“You're not gonna put me in a prison.” her eyes are still on you “You're not gonna put any of us in a prison. You know why?” You know she's asking you to finish her sentence.

“Do enlighten us.”

“Because you need us.” you say without missing a beat, looking away from Natasha and directly into the man’s eyes. “Yes, the world is a vulnerable place, and yes, we help make it that way. But we're also the ones best qualified to defend it.”

“So if you want to arrest us, arrest us.” Nat says after a pause.

“You'll know where to find us.” you finish. 

You both get up and walk out, exchanging a small smile that's quickly hidden for the benefit of the cameras.

-

A few hours later you and Natasha get to the cemetery just as Fury’s walking away, smirking at each other when you catch the end of his sentence.

“You should be honored, gentlemen.” you say as you get closer.

“That's about as close as he gets to saying thank you.” Natasha finishes for you.

“Not going with him?” Steve asks you as he meets you halfway.

“No.” you both say at the same time.

“Not staying here?” only Natasha answers this time.

“Nah. I blew all my covers,” she glances at you “I gotta go figure out a new one.”

“That might take a while.” he points out.

“I'm counting on it.” She smiles. “That thing you asked for, I called in a few favors from Kiev.” She hands Steve a file. “Will you do me a favor? Call that nurse.”

“She's not a nurse.”

“And you're not a SHIELD agent.” you say and he smiles.

“What was her name again?” he asks.

“Sharon.” Natasha says and you add. “She's nice.”

Natasha kisses Steve on the cheek, hugs you and when she turns to walk away, he looks at you.

“Your face looks better.” you notice. “Well, as good as it can look, considering...” you trail off vaguely motioning to his face with a fake disgusted look and he laughs.

“Yeah, the serum can only do so much.” you laugh too, but then you hear Natasha and you both turn to her.

“Be careful, Steve.” she tells to him “You might not want to pull on that thread.” 

And with that, she’s gone.

“You’re not going with Nat?” he asks you as you turn back to him.

“I figured you might need a hand.” you nod to the file in his hand and Steve opens it as Sam walks up to you guys while you steal a glance yourself at the photo of Sergeant Barnes in it.

“You're going after him.” Sam says and it's not a question, it's a statement.

“You don't have to come with me.” He says, his eyes on the file.

“I know.” Sam says, after a moment of silence you finally look away from the photo of 40s Bucky and you see both men looking at you expectantly.

“Chasing a 96 year old brainwashed assassin?” you says, a smile starting to grow on your face “Sounds fun.” you state and Steve nods.

“Really?” Sam deadpans. “What are your weekends like, YLN?”

You only smirk at him in response, then you both turn your attention back to Steve, his eyes back on the file.

“So,” Sam says, “when do we start?”

[saiyanprincessswanie]

SaiyanPrincessSwanie Reading List Weeks 197 & 198

A/N: Thank you again to those who gave me recommendations for fanfics. 💜 This week had me reading 30 fics. Absolutely amazing stuff here.

As always these will be listed in no particular order. None of these stories are mine. I’m just signal-boosting them. The author is listed next to the title. My goal is to signal boost writers and spread positivity in the community.  💜💜

Click HERE to see what I will or won’t read. This is very important.

Click HERE for past reading lists.

For my Masterlist click HERE.

Please make sure you’re reading the warnings on every story. They range from dark to fluff. Do Not Read if you are under 18 years old. These stories are meant for adults only. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.

Page-break by @whimsicalrogers

Header by @fictional-affairs

If you can, please reblog these lists so they can reach more people on Tumblr.

I love you 3000 💜 Missy

My Angel - (Steve x Reader) - @saiyanprincessswanie

Blue Bonnets - (Brock x Reader) - @saiyanprincessswanie

Mission Dad - (Bucky x Reader) - @deliciousangelfestival

Open Your Eyes - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Like Animals - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

One hundred degrees - (Steve x Gender Neutral Reader) - @holylulusworld

Lost in the Dark (Part 3) - (Bucky x Reader) - @tuiccim

Into You - (Bucky x Reader) - @flordeamatista

Code Red Delivery - (Ari x OFC) - @hollybee8917

Built Differently - Faboolous Fumbles - (Stucky x Reader) - @rookthorne

Snow - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Evermore - Part 2 - (Ari x Reader, Andy x Reader) - @joannaliceevans-fanficblog

Evermore - Part 3 - (Ari x Reader, Andy x Reader) - @joannaliceevans-fanficblog

Picnic - @nekoannie-chan

Finding Home (4) - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Indecent Proposal - (2) - (Stucky x Reader) - @holylulusworld

Reconnect - Where Did the Time Go? - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Your Mark On Me - Part 8 - (Steve x Reader) - @georgiapeach30513

Between Past and Present - (Steve x Bucky) - @hollybee8917

Donut: The Hole Story - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Hidden Agendas - (Ari x Reader, Lloyd x Reader) - @labella420

Pain - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Welcome Home - (Curtis x Reader x Jake) - @stargazingfangirl18

In a Red Dress - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Lighting the Flame Above - (Steve x Clint) - @hollybee8917

Experiment - (Brock, Logan H) - @nekoannie-chan

It's not the same - (Steve, Brock) - @nekoannie-chan

Saving the Captain - (Steve, Sinthea) - @nekoannie-chan

Security Jammies - (Ransom x Reader) - @stargazingfangirl18

Goes With the Theme - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

[ethereal--muse]

goshhh, those women were always kidnapped and forced to marry HOT dark men

[buckyalpine]

Pretty Little Thing Part 1

18+ Minors dni

Mob!Bucky x f reader, Rumlow x reader (forced marriage)  A/N: This is going to be in parts because it was getting way too long for a one shot. Felt like writing some protective Mob Bucky because he is an absolute treasure. Rumlow is a piece of shit. Please like, comment and reblog! <3 

Warnings: ANGST, forced marriage, swearing, abusive marriage 

Word count: 1.8k

Bucky reluctantly got in the SUV after Steve nagged him for 2 hours about the importance of maintaining civil relationships with business partners and rivals.

“You know what they say punk, keep your friends close and your enemies closer”

Bucky groaned, adjusting the gun in his holster wondering how he let Steve convince him to meet with Brock Rumlow again.

He had zero interest in having any business dealings with Rumlow; he had agreed to a meeting to maintain an air of peace. Though they were both part of the same world, Bucky had some morals.

As they neared the residence, something was different this time. Bucky frowned, wondering why the mansion they were pulling up to looked so…homely. A trail of flower bushes lined the gravel road to the entrance. A large garden swing sat on the lawn. Rumlow didn’t seem like the type to sit outside on a sunny day to lounge on a garden swing. Not unless someone half naked was on it. The large balcony that was typically occupied with the women Rumlow was entertaining that week was empty. Instead 2 guards that had previously never been seen had taken up residence at the main door.

“He’s up to something, this man didn’t suddenly turn into Mr. Rogers” Steve shook his head, doing a quick pat down of his weapons before exiting the vehicle.

The inside was no better; a giant bouquet of flowers sat in an ornate vase beside the stair case. The curtains had been opened, allowing natural light to pour through the living room. A number of family photos had been placed above the fireplace, replacing a previous cigar collection.

“Gentleman!” Rumlow descended the stairs, flashing them an unnaturally bright smile.

Bucky nodded, his stoic face unchanged. “I see you’ve made some changes”

“All this,” Rumlow gestured around him, “is for my beautiful new wife”

Steve hoped Rumlow didn’t hear him choke though Bucky definitely did, struggling to hide his smirk.

“Didn’t think you’d be one to settle down” Bucky said coolly, wondering which woman of the week he had convinced to marry him.

“You would too Barnes, if you got lucky enough to find a woman like mine. Let me introduce you!”

Before Bucky could protest (though secretly curious to know who would agree to marry such a creature), Rumlow called for you.

“Y/n, sweetheart, come down, meet my business partners!” “We’re not bu-”

Bucky immediately stopped upon seeing you descend the stairs. That wasn’t who he was expecting.

You quietly padded down the stairs in a simple white sun dress that stopped just above your knees, the soft material flowing between your legs with each step. Your hair cascaded down, softly bouncing as you approached them. As you neared, Bucky noticed the finer details that just added to your beauty. The small beauty marks on your skin that made you unique, the curve of your jaw, the way you nervously bit you bottom lip, the soft light color you had painted on your toes. Fuck you were angelic.

You stood quietly by Rumlows side, nearly hiding behind him, glancing at the two very handsome men that visited your home. If you’d even call it a home.

“She’s a pretty little thing isn’t she?”

Bucky and Steve stood in stunned silence, nodding after a moment. Rumlow smirked, getting the exact reaction he wanted.

“Barnes, Rogers, this is y/n, my sweet wife” Rumlow firmly gripped your waist, pulling you forward while placing a possessive kiss on your neck, his lips lingering on your skin for longer than necessary. You squirmed slightly, immediately stopping when you felt his fingers dig into your skin.

“Pleasure to meet you y/n” The handsome blonde gave you a soft smile, extending his hand. You hesitated before taking his hand; his hold felt firm, safe.

“Y/n, this is James Barnes and Steve Rogers, they came to discuss some of our business trades”

You smiled softly, nodding keeping your gaze down. You fidgeted with the large diamond ring that sat on your finger, the heavy rock a harsh contrast to your simple appearance.

“Gentleman follow me, we can discuss everything in the office. Y/n darling, prepare us some drinks please”

The office looked the same as the last time Bucky had been there; a large solid wood desk with simple arm chairs surrounding it and a large couch off to the side. Everything was the same except for one stark difference; a large wedding portrait hung on the wall behind Rumlow’s desk. He looked proud, as if he had captured the prey he prowled after, his arm draped possessively around you waist. You were in a plain white silk wedding dress, both your hands clasped around a bouquet of blood red roses. You’re lips were curved up in a small smile but your eyes looked lost, devoid of happiness.

“Take a seat, y/n please” Rumlow gestured for you to pour them their drinks while they sat. Another change; there were no longer maids or butlers in the house. There were security guards that walked the perimeter and few in the halls but the many women that previously waited on Rumlow hand and foot were nowhere to be seen.

“I don’t see any of your other….assistants?” Steve wasn’t sure how to refer to the lack of help. He knew for a fact Rumlow had them around for more than just cleaning the house.

“Ah, no need for them when I have this angel here. Got rid of them all after we got married”

He grinned at you, pawing at your waist as you dropped a few ice cubes into the crystal glasses. Your body tensed under his touch, quickly pouring the whisky so you could leave the room. Your nervous movements caused a splash of the dark liquid to spill onto Bucky’s shirt.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry Mr. Barnes” You looked up wide eyed, frantically grabbing a cloth to dry off the spill. Your hands trembled as you quickly dabbed his chest, feeling the hard muscle under tense.

“It’s okay doll” The name rolled off his tongue with such ease before Bucky could catch himself.  He took the napkin from your hand and set it on the table, giving you a soft smile. His eyes were a stunning piercing blue and you felt yourself get lost in them for a moment, collecting yourself when you heard a cough from your husband.

“That’ll be all y/n. Sorry gentleman, she’s still learning” Rumlow gave you a nod, smiling, however his voice and eyes were cold as they bore into you. You nodded, quickly retreating to your room before they could see the tears fall.

Steve shifted uncomfortably, while Bucky’s jaw clenched.

“Learning?” Bucky’s voice was cold. He already had no interest to be here but seeing the way you were treated angered him more.

“Yes Barnes, learning” Rumlow’s was voice equally cold, his hospitable demeanour slowly crumbling seeing the way you looked at Bucky.

“And how did she agree to this marriage in the first place?” Bucky sat back in his chair, genuinely curious to know how you ended up in his hellhole.

“Truthfully, that’s none of your business Barnes”

“We can talk about this first Brock” Steve said lowly, his hand gripping the arm of the chair to keep from punching the man’s jaw out of place.

“I don’t have to explain anything to you Barnes, or you Rogers, you came here to talk business,” Rumlow glared at the men, realizing the conversation would not move forward unless they got their answer. “But since you seem so keen, it was for her benefit”

“Benefit?”

“Her family owed me a large sum of money they couldn’t repay. Millions. I spared them in exchange for her”

Bucky felt sick, anger beginning to cloud his judgement. He should have known you would have been forced into this arrangement against your will. Steve sensed his friends change in mood, tapping his knee, signalling for him to cool down.

“So you forced her to be your wife?”

“Hardly”, Rumlow replied coolly, sipping his whiskey. “She agreed to the marriage in exchange for her family’s life”

“She’s a person Rumlow, you don’t trade lives for your benefit. She’s had to sacrifice her whole life for her own family, what the hell have you given her in exchange for it!?” Steve felt his own composure beginning to falter.

“ I’ve made plenty of sacrifices for her!” Disgust dripped from his voice when he mentioned you. “Do you see any women walking around this fucking place? Not one maid, no whores, all of them gone for her. I’ve remodelled the house according to her likings; I have not touched her once until she agrees. She is getting everything according to her needs, the least she can do is learn to pour a glass of whiskey”

Rumlow’s chest was heaving his frustrations grew. He knew your family would have paid the money off eventually but he wanted you. The pretty, sweet, angelic looking thing that sat on the swing in front of your family’s home, nose tucked in a book. So he made an offer. All debt’s cleared in an exchange of marriage. You protested, so he made another offer. He would change, become a better man. No more women, he would change his home to resemble your own. He wouldn’t lay a finger on you until you consented.

“You’re proud of not touching someone who doesn’t want to be with you in the first place?” Bucky scoffed, his hand itching to pull the gun from his holster.

It had been 6 months since the wedding and his patience was growing thin. The marriage had never been consummated and Rumlow was only willing to play his part for so long. He’d get what he wanted if you were not going to give it to him willingly.

“I’ve had to keep it in my pants for 6 months Barnes, I think I’ve been pretty generous, don’t you think?” Rumlow smirked, enjoying the reaction he was getting out of Bucky.

The floor screeched as Bucky stood out of his chair, heading straight for the door. A minute longer and a bullet would have found its way between Rumlow’s eyes. Steve followed without a word, as Rumlow sat back in his chair finishing off his whiskey.

In the car, Steve glanced at Bucky, shaking his head, knowing where his friends head was at.

“Be careful Buck”

“About?”

“I saw how you looked at her. Called her doll right in front of that piece of shit, God knows what he’s going to do to her now”

Bucky groaned, closing his eyes as you clouded his thoughts. Your bare feet softly padding down the stairs, your hair slightly tousled. Your soft y/e/c eyes that pleaded for forgiveness. The tear that slipped and rolled down your cheek. He noticed.

-

Part 2