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green-eyeddragonfanfiction · 6 years

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War of Attrition: Chapter 6

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Reader Summary: Best friends with Steve Rogers, renowned Howling Commando, and married to one James Buchanan Barnes, your life wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as it could possibly be in the middle of World War II. Then you fell from a train in the Alps, and everything changed. You spent nearly 70 years as a tool of Hydra alongside your beloved, though your past with him was more often than not forgotten. Hydra’s determined to set Project: Insight into action. Handler Pierce has sent you and the other Soldier strategically to ensure that happens. However, some things can’t be accounted for or predicted to matter how much one prepares. Especially in affairs of the heart. Warnings: Swearing (always), violence, guns, blood, death, particularly brutal bloody and deserved death Word Count: ~4,630 A/N: There’s no Bucky in this chapter. Sorry about that. If I’m being honest, we might not see him for a little bit. We’ll see.

Masterlist // Book One // Book Two

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

You fixed the cybernetics in his arm, though you didn’t know how you knew what went where and what needed welding and what needed to be replaced. Time passed like molasses, though you knew hardly any time had gone by at all. The other Soldier hadn’t looked at you once, not even when you snuck a gentle caress from his shoulder to his neck to his cheek. Not so much as a flicker of recognition when you stood in front of him.

It did not matter. He was your special one. You would protect him, even if you were too broken to think right. You would remember the important things.

Morning came, as it always does, and with it the news of the escape of Target: Steven Grant Rogers, Target: Natalia Alianovna Romanoff, and Accomplice: Samuel Thomas Wilson from Hydra custody.

It meant another day out of cryofreeze. Another day without being wiped.

The reprieve was hampered slightly by the fact that they kept you and the other Soldier separated. He was sent to keep and eye on the helicarriers while you were assigned to defend Handler Pierce. His normal guard led him and the council members up to his office where they’d make pretty speeches and posture as all politicians did.

You watched it all unfold from the hidden alcove on the side of the room. You could see out but, according to Handler Pierce, no one would be able to see in. It was hidden with cloaking technology which meant there wasn’t a physical barrier between you and the rest of the room. You couldn’t help but feel claustrophobic anyway.

“I know the road hasn’t exactly been smooth,” Pierce was saying to the council members. You tried to use your backscatter to search for weapons, but the cloaking tech scrambled it so you ended up relying on your normal vision. From what you could tell, none of the members were packing any weapons, but normal human vision was easily fooled, even if it was enhanced to 20/5. “And I know some of you would have gladly kicked me out of the car along the way,” he said, going for a touch of humor and levity. He turned to face the screen behind him, looking up at it with a touch of pride. “Finally, we’re here, and the world should be grateful,” he said, raising his glass to the other four.

He was a split second away from taking a sip when a voice rang out in the room, commanding and confident.

“Attention all SHIELD Agents. This is Steve Rogers.”

You tensed in your hidden spot, a wave of unease flowing through you. You hadn’t heard the target speak beyond a few pained grunts, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you knew what he sounded like before this moment.

“You've heard a lot about me over the last few days. Some of you were even ordered to hunt me down. But I think it's time to tell the truth. SHIELD is not what we thought it was. It's been taken over by Hydra. Alexander Pierce is their leader.” You watched as Pierce stalked around the table in the middle of the room, a tilt of his eyebrow the only indication he gave of the target’s words and of the council member’s accusing looks. He didn’t give the signal or give you an order so you stayed still, your attention captured by the target’s voice.

“The STRIKE and Insight crew are Hydra as well. I don't know how many more, but I know they're in the building. They could be standing right next to you. They almost have what they want. Absolute control. They shot Nick Fury. And it won't end there. If you launch those helicarriers today, Hydra will be able to kill anyone that stands in their way. Unless we stop them. I know I'm asking a lot. But the price of freedom is high. It always has been. And it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not.”

The loudspeaker clicked off. The room was so quiet for a second that the dropping of a pin would have sounded like a bomb going off.

“You smug son of a bitch,” councilman Rockwell growled. His staunch, militaristic demeanor called to memories long buried. You blamed the sudden mental distress on Steven Grant Rogers. Whatever he said had effected you adversely.

Agent Rollins and two other goons entered the room and formed a loose semi-circle around the council members. Councilman Singh looked expectantly at them and tipped his glass towards Pierce, who stood smugly with his arms crossed against his chest. “What are you waiting for?” he asked expectantly. “Arrest him,” he demanded.

All he got in response was Rollin’s pistol pointed directly at his chest. The other council members shifted uneasily, quickly reading the situation.

“I guess I’ve got the floor,” Pierce said, eyeing the others challengingly.

You watched as the guards corralled the other council members into a loose circle, guns drawn and gazes trained on the unarmed captives. Your mind, however, was drifting.

It wasn’t the words that the man had said that stuck, it was his voice itself. It made you feel like the other Soldier’s voice did. Safe. It was trustworthy. You didn’t hesitate to follow its orders, knowing its owner would never lead you astray.

But it was wrong. It was Steven Grant Rogers’ voice. He was the enemy. He was your target. He was an enemy of Hydra and Hydra was all that mattered.

No, the other Soldier mattered. That was one of the important things. The things you had to remember.

But Hydra hurt the other Soldier. Hurt you, too. Things that hurt the other Soldier were bad and-

The sound of explosions outside the window drew your attention from that dangerous line of thought. You hadn’t even realized how close you were to questioning your Handler until that moment.

Peirce was watching the helicarriers rise slowly into the air outside, his phone gripped loosely in his hand as he watched the guns try to blast Samuel Thomas Wilson out of the sky.

Suddenly, he turned from the window and walk towards the other council members, though he stayed a cautious distance away. “Let me ask you a question. What if Pakistan marched into Mumbai tomorrow?” he asked, picking up one of the glasses of champagne. He walked towards councilman Singh and you tensed, ready to spring into action if Pierce called for it. “And you knew that they were gonna drag your daughters into a soccer stadium for execution.” He offered Singh the glass and the councilman took it after a brief, hesitant pause. “And you could just stop it. With the flick of a switch.” Singh eyed Pierce as he spoke and Pierce turned to look at the others. The question may have been for Singh, but he posed it to the others as well. “Would you? Wouldn’t you all?” he asked, turning to look at each of them rapidly. They shifted, glancing between each other and Pierce.

Singh lifted his chin and stared down his nose at Pierce. “Not if it was your switch,” he said, then tossed the flute of champagne onto the cold marble floor. The tinkering of the shattering glass sounded almost merry.

Pierce smiled. It wasn’t a thing of humor or joy, but a mocking smile that nearly made your flinch. You watched as Rollins pulled out his extra pistol and handed it to Pierce. You knew what happened next.

Or at least, you thought you did. What you hadn’t been expecting was for Councilwoman Hawley to raise her leg and slam her foot down to the side of the knee of the closest agent. He went down like a bag of bricks and a half second later she’d disarmed Pierce and thrown a shock disk at the other agent. She threw the pistol at Hawley and hit him right in the windpipe and he dropped, too. He was up a split second after she disabled the second agent, only to make it two steps have and his head slammed into the table, knocking him into unconsciousness or possibly killing him.

She raised the pistol and aimed it directly at Pierce, who straightened and eyed her warily. Her fingertip went to the side of her head and you watched, confused, as her face shifted. “I’m sorry,” she said. Her voice was altered, electronic, fluctuating just like her features. She wiped a hand over her face and pulled away some sort of veil, like a snake shedding its skin. What was left underneath was one Natalia Alianovna Romanoff. She tugged her wig off, revealing her bright red hair, and stared defiantly down the gun at Pierce. “Did I step on your moment?”

Pierce looked shocked for a moment, but his shoulders relaxed and he laughed. “You’re good, you know. Very good. I had no idea it was you,” he said, taking a nonchalant sip from his champagne flute.

Natalia Alianovna Romanoff tilted her head to side, smirk pulling her lips up at the corners. “Thank you. Fooling sleezebags is a passion of mine. Have to say, though, I don’t see what’s so funny.”

Pierce smiled and set his glass down on the table. The way he moved gave you a clear shot from your hideyhole to Natalia Alianovna Romanoff. “I’ve no doubt that whoever’s been keeping track of everything and feeding information to you has told you the Winter Soldier has appeared on the field. Likely putting a stop to the Captain’s little plan?” he asked, leaning casually against the table. He eyed her shrewdly then, his smirk turning into something darker and more menacing. He raised his hand up level to his face and stared down the gun Natalia was holding, not looking phased in the slightest.

She eyed him tensely, not sure what game he was playing at. She seemed hesitant to kill him so she must still need him for something. You tensed in your alcove, muscles coiled tight in anticipation.

He chuckled like he was in on a joke she wasn’t. “Then surely you’ve noticed a piece missing from the field?” He snapped his fingers once, the sound loud in the otherwise silent room.

You rushed forward from your spot before the sound had finished echoing through the room, passing through the cloaking field and taking everyone in the room except Pierce by surprise.

Natalia Alianovna Romanoff was, of course, the first to recover. Her pistol whipped around and she fired at you until her gaze focused on exactly what (or more accurately, who) was racing toward her at a blinding speed.

The other senators were dead before their bodies hit the ground. Smoke drifted up through their mouths and any second now the scent of scalded flesh would permeate the air.

Natalia Alianovna Romanoff tossed the empty pistol aside and immediately dropped in a defense stance, her olive eyes trained on you as you closed in on her.

You charged your hands and let your fists fly at her in a lightning-quick barrage. She dodged most of them but eventually you landed a hit. A wave of dread rolled through you unbidden and you barely had time to register it, much less try to understand why it had happened, before you realized your electric touch had done nothing to her.

She grabbed your fist and you set a wave of electricity through the wiring on your skin, but once again, she didn’t so much as twitch. She must have some tech you didn’t know about.

“Please, Mashenka. Listen to me!” she pleaded, eyes wide and chest heaving from the adrenaline racing through her veins. Her shoulder almost definitely wasn’t completely healed yet and you wondered briefly if her stitches had reopened.

Then you realized you shouldn’t care.

With a growl you wrenched your hand from her grasp and set to a different strategy: goring her with your taloned feet.

She wasn’t able to block your legs like she could your punches. Your legs would simply break her bones. Every few seconds your heel jets would turn on, filling the room with their low roar.

“This isn’t you, (Y/N)!” she yelled, dodging out of the way of a particularly deadly leg sweep. When you froze at the sound of that name she looked at you uncertainly, her body still tense and ready to fight. “That’s your name! You recognize it, don’t you? Steve told me all about you and Bucky!” she said, green eyes bright, her tone pleading.

Bucky. You knew that word. You heard the other Soldier say it to Steven Grant Rogers. It made you remember things yesterday. The important things. It was an important word. You couldn’t remember why. It made you think of the Soldier, so it had to be important.

“Asset!” Pierce called sharply, snapping you back into the moment.

Mission. You had a mission. This woman was your mission. You had to protect Pierce.

With a growl you returned to bombarding Natalia with punches and kicks that would have killed a less capable person within a second. “Don’t listen to him, (Y/N)! Mashenka! I don’t want to hurt you! I want to help you!” she panted between dodges and blocks. “He’s the one who hurt you! You and Bucky! He hurt Yashenka!” she said forcefully, as though she could will the words and meaning to your damaged mind by determination alone.

The odd thing? It worked.

You froze mid-strike, your foot inches from her temple. Her eyes were wide and afraid, more white than green. Sweat was running freely down her face and a small red spot was peeking through her blue suit top. Her stitches had reopened.

“It’s me, Mashenka. Natalia. You and Yashenka trained me. You remember, don’t you? Watching the sunsets together? Eating meals in the gym? I don’t want to hurt you. Neither of you. Please let me help you, (Y/N).”

Pierce shifted behind you but you didn’t dare take your eyes off the woman in front of you. She was dangerous. When he spoke you could tell he was unsettled. “As touching as this little display has been, I think we’re done here,” he said quietly. You heard the safety of the gun click off but you didn’t even flinch. “Stand aside, Asset,” he said coldly.

Natalia made no notice of Pierce. “Do you remember the last thing you said to me, Mashenka?” Natalia asked, eyes searching yours. There was a fire in them that you knew so well. You knew her so well. You could read everything on her face like a book. Why could you do that? “You told me to escape. That I would regret staying. You told me to run,” Natalia said, voice full of emotion. “I was weak then. Scared and confused. Because of it you got hurt. I’m telling you, now. Run, (Y/N). Don’t let Hydra or the KGB control you anymore. Get Yashenka- your Bucky- and run before-”

The sound of the gun going off startled you from your daze. The bullet grazed Natalia’s side, sending blood out in a fine spray around you. She cried out in pain and her hand flew to her side.

You whirled and closed the distance between you and Pierce in a single stride. You leapt into the air and landed heavily on his shoulders, your claws digging into the flesh there, and he collapsed under your weight.

You yanked the gun out of his hand and threw it to the other side of the room. You vaguely heard it clatter to the floor, but your attention was focused on the man before you. He’d hit his head relatively hard in the fall, but he was still conscious and staring up at you, blinking as though he couldn’t focus on your face. You pinned him with your feet and he let out a cry of agony as your talons dug even deeper into the meat of his shoulders.

Your hand sparked menacingly as you pulled your fist back and charged it to full capacity. Pierce’s eyes widened in fear. You left it fall and-

“Wait!”

Your hand froze barely a few inches from his face, your fist practically quivering with energy.

Natalia appeared in your line of vision but she stayed just out of reach. “We need him! If you kill him a lot of people are going to die!” Natalia said quickly. “Mashenka, please,” she said, grimacing as she clutched at her side.

Finally, you looked up at her, wincing as the energy in your fist dissipated. She must have felt the change in the air because she gave you a small, tentative smile.

“Can you hold him there? I have something I have to do,” she said quietly and slowly, as though speaking to a wounded animal.

You didn’t react at all, but she gave you another small smile anyway and moved to the podium near the wall, which was actually a computer with a holographic screen.

You watched from your spot above Pierce, who was watching in a sort of stupor as Natalia typed away at the computer. You watched the numbers and code flashed by in a blur, your mind keeping up with it in a detached sort of way.

“What are you doing?” Pierce asked, his words slightly slurred. He had perhaps hit his head harder than you’d originally believed.

“Dumping all of this data onto the internet,” she said matter-of-factly. From what you could see, that was definitely the case. “Soon, everyone will know every dirty secret Hydra has ever tried to hide.”

“And SHIELD’s,” Pierce said, smirking. “If you do this none of your past is gonna remain hidden.” Her fingers slowed down for a spit second at that, but she continued typing anyway. “Are you sure you’re ready for the world to see you as you really are?” he asked, staring up at Natalia. You clenched your talons and he let out a pained groan that made Natalia smile viciously.

“Are you?” she said simply.

Pierce was either in too much pain or too proud to respond to that, so he glared up at you instead. “I demand you let me up this instant, Asset. Eliminate the target immediately,” he hissed.

You looked up at Natalia, eyes cold and face expressionless. “Does he need to be able to speak?”

She glanced up at you, smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

That got Pierce to look sharply up at Natalia. What he saw on the screen behind her, though, gave him pause. “Disabling the encryption is an executive order. It takes two alpha level members.”

Natasha turned her cool eyes on him. “Don’t worry. Company’s coming.”

Your heads all turned at the same time, following the sound of whirling helicopter blades.

Director Nicholas J. Fury stepped out of the black chopper, his arm still in a sling and looking a little worse for the wear. You tensed above Pierce, your brain warring with itself.

He was a target. He was supposed to be dead.

But Hydra had told you that you’d accomplished your mission. He was no longer your mission.

It was a loophole. A small one, but that, along with Natalia’s murmured and nearly pleading “Mashenka,” allowed you to hold yourself back from attacking him.

He opened the glass door with his good hand and stalked inside, his eye surveying the scene before him with disbelief.

“What the fuck is this, Agent Romanoff,” he asked, gesturing to the dead or incapacitated Hydra agents, fried council members, and you, pinning Pierce to the floor with your talons.

Pierce stared up at him from his spot on the floor. “Didja get my flowers?” he asked, sarcastic and snarky even in this situation.

In response, Fury only scowled at the man. “Is that gonna be a problem?” Fury asked Natalia, his finger pointed directly at you. You bristled, but Natalia simply shook her head.

“Don’t think so,” was her sparkling vote of confidence.

“I’m glad you’re here, Nick,” Pierce said, as though he wasn’t stuck like a pincushion.

“Really?” Fury asked, walking slowly towards the three of you. “’Cause I thought you had me killed.”

Pierce didn’t look cowed at all. “You know how the game works,” he said quickly, smirk tugging at his lips.

“Then why make me head of SHIELD?” Fury asked, regarding the prone man accusingly.

“Because you were the best,” Pierce said as though it was obvious. With your recent run-ins with the man, you were inclined to agree. He was a hard man to kill. “And the most ruthless person I ever met.”

Fury’s voice was low and dangerous when he spoke. “I did what I did to protect people.”

“Our enemies are your enemies, Nick. Disorder. War. It’s just a matter of time until a dirty bomb goes off in Moscow or an EMP fries Chicago. Diplomacy? Holding action. A band-aid,” he said dismissively. How he was still conscious was beyond you. “And you know where I learned that. Bogotá.” Fury’s face changed at that, surprise and disbelief mingling with hatred. “You didn’t ask. You just did what had to be done. I can bring order to the lives of 7 billion people by sacrificing 20 million. It’s the next step if-”

He cried out as you pulled one of your feet’s talons out and shoved it into the meat of his thigh. The heel talon went deep enough that you heard it clang against the floor on the other side.

Like Hydra brought order to my life!? you wanted to scream. The words hung unspoken in the air, but you had a feeling both Natalia and Fury heard them loud and clear.

“I don’t think the lady agrees,” Fury said, staring down at Pierce who was wincing as blood began pouring freely out of his wounds. “Get his ass up,” Fury said, glowering at the man under your feet.

When you simply glared at the command and didn’t move, he let out a long sigh, glanced at Natalia, and held his hands up as though to say he meant no harm. “Pretty please,” he said, gritting the words out as though they caused him pain. They touch of sarcasm was welcome. Hydra didn’t employ humor when talking to you.

You looked at Natalia who nodded slowly at you. You glanced back at Fury, looking for any signs of deceit, before you slowly retracted your claws and stepped off of Pierce. He was too weak to stand by himself so you hauled him to his feet.

“Here, Mashenka,” Natalia said quietly as she pointed to a square on the clear holographic wall. You half-carried, half-dragged Pierce to the space in front of it.

The man had the audacity and, somehow, the strength to look over at Fury and give him a stubborn look as though he was still in control of the situation. “What? You don’t think we wiped your clearance from the system?”

Fury was so done with Pierce’s posturing that he started speaking over the man halfway through his sentence. “I know you erased my password. Probably deleted my retinal scan, too. But if you wanna stay ahead of me, Mr. Secretary-” he pulled up his eye patch, revealing a heavily scarred eye socket and a scarred over eyeball, “-you need to keep both. Eyes. Open.” Fury nodded his head towards Pierce’s retinal scanner and you shoved him roughly forward, holding him in place as the scanner did its work. Fury moved to his side and held his scarred eye up to the scanner.

“Alpha level confirmed. Encryption code accepted. Safeguards removed,” the detached robotic voice informed them. Pierce was looking at Fury with a hint of surprise but also a great deal of hatred.

You released the sad excuse for a human being and let him fall to the ground. He was even paler than usual now, his blood running down his shoulders and legs in a grim stream. There was a clear line of blood from the spot on the floor where you’d pinned him to where he laid now.

“Do you still need him?” you asked Natalia, voice raspy.

Natalia shrugged and looked at Fury, who stared down at the man with distaste. “We could probably get some useful information out of him, but-”

You raised your foot and brought it down in a deadly arc, slicing through flesh and bone with ease. Pierce let out a blood-curdling scream as you broke ribs in half and tore through the soft flesh of his stomach.

You knelt down low to his face, your visage twisted into a terrible glower as you pulled him up by the tatters of his suit. He gave a feeble groan, but he was fading fast. He managed to look up at you.

“You will never hurt him again,” you hissed. You used the last of your charges and reached forward, planting your hand directly in the center of his face. He convulsed mightily beneath you as you fried his brain the same way Hydra had fried yours for the last seventy years.

You weren’t sure how, but you knew there was no fear in his eyes. Until his very last moment he believed he was in the right.

You stood slowly, mind racing. Pierce was dead. You killed him. You killed your Handler. That was bad and-

Wait, no. You didn’t need a Handler. Handlers were the bad things. They hurt the other Soldier.

Bucky.

They hurt Bucky.

You looked up and saw both Natalia and Fury eyeing you warily.

SHIELD. They worked for SHIELD. SHIELD opposed Hydra, but it had also let it grow inside its organization if the things Steve said were to be believed.

Steve never lies.

You weren’t sure where the thought came from, but you knew it was true.

SHIELD couldn’t be trusted. Couldn’t trust anyone. Not Natalia. Definitely not yourself.

“You’re going, aren’t you?” Natalia asked, already sounding resigned.

Your gaze fell to her and you gave her a single terse nod. “Can’t let them hurt him. It’s one of the important things,” you said, gaze flitting around uneasily. It was hard to explain the important things. You knew they probably wouldn’t understand.

“Hold on just a damn minute,” Fury said, drawing the attention of you and Natalia. “Who the hell are you?”

You walked over to the windows and eyed the mess in the sky. The helicarriers had begun firing on each other and for a split second your stomach swooped with dread. The other Soldier was on one of those, more than likely.

But it was the other Soldier. If anyone could survive that, it would be him.

Maybe Steve, too, if they hadn’t killed each other.

The thought made you sick.

You turned away from the window and looked at Fury, head tilting to the side as you considered your answer to his question.

Natalia said your name was (Y/N). She also called you Mashenka. Hydra called you Asset and Winter Soldier and Soldat, but those weren’t right.

The only thing that came to mind that felt like it fit was the thing the other Soldier called you sometimes when none of the guards were around and no one could overhear him but you.

Мой Мир. My World.

You felt your mouth tug up at the corner. The expression- a small smirk- felt wrong on your face. Unnatural. Like it didn’t belong.

You shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Then you bashed out the window with your foot, gave Natalia a small wave goodbye, and threw yourself backwards out of the building.

Next Chapter

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tharros-auris-black-asimi · 2 years

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Take me to church (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Dark Priest Bucky Barnes x Singer Female Reader

Summary: In Modern Russia, James Buchanan Barnes is the Priest of the Catholic Church. He has a great life.

However, there is something in him. A darkness.

And once he meets you, an opera singer at the Bolshoi Opera House, that darkness ferments and grows.

But James doesn't mind corrupting you. Or him.

Not at all.

Chapter Warnings: This story takes place in modern Russia. Heavy discussions and allusions to religion are also in this story. Mentions of a past male predator, as well as past male predatory behavior, are discussed. As well as the male predator in question having an improper power imbalance/dynamic with his victims. And because of the past male predatory behavior, there is also mention of religious trauma. This fic also contains a Dark!Priest!Bucky. And, if any will be asking, yes, implied/referenced murder. If you get it, you get it.

I think that should cover all of my bases as far as the content warnings go for this chapter, but if I missed any, please let me know down below!

Italics are for Russian. As this is modern Russia, I've switched out some names to make the story a little bit more accurate. Or, as accurate as I can possibly be. Instead of Natasha, she'll be known as Natalia. And instead of Alexander Pierce being spelled like Alexander, he'll be known as Aleksandr.

Additional Notes: Wooof, this had been living rent-free in my head for the last couple of days. I wanted to have all of this mostly prewritten out, as this is officially my first Christmas Special ever! So a Happy Holidays to you all!

This story couldn't be here without the love and support of the lovely soundboard that is @lizzygal, who often encourages these crazy ideas I have brewing. A huge thank you for your enormous help! This baby couldn't have been born without your helpful suggestions.

I would also like to add that even though Priest!Bucky is Catholic in this story, I am not Catholic myself or religious, so there will be some inaccurate things in here. So, I apologize in advance if anything seems out of the ordinary.

If you'd like to read this on my AO3, you can read it here.

Word Count: 6,648

“Hey! Are you going to get drinks with us tonight?”

You balanced your phone in between your ear and your neck as you craned your neck, to support your phone. Hastily putting on your shoes, you grabbed a hold of your phone again.

Smoothing over your clothes again, you checked to make sure your makeup still looked good. You had woken up after hitting your snooze button, and in a haste, had gotten ready.

Your boss wasn’t a very nice person when it came to tardiness.

Especially considering you worked at the Opera. You were going to need to get a coffee. Almond milk, no sugar. As a performer, you were not allowed any dairy or sugar. You rehearsed your lines daily and made sure to get lots and lots of rest. You drank some hot water with lemon when you had woken up this morning, and it was a very nice pick me up.

A certain little whimper caught your attention.

“C’m here Star, gonna let me feed you before I go, baby?” You were using your baby voice. Your Chihuahua just ran up to you, jumping to scratch at your jeans. You started to laugh.

“Okay, okay, okay! I gotchu. I get it. Hold on.” Star followed you to the little pantry where you kept her dog food, the blonde-furred dog wagging her tail happily as she heard the bag open. Excitedly, she ran over and watched with wide eyes as you got her food.

“… You still there?”

Oh shit.

“Yeah, yeah Darc- I’m still here. What were you saying about drinks on Saturday?” Your response made your friend snort as you poured food into Star’s dog bowl. She went to town, chowing down as you continued to talk to Darcy over the phone. Plopping the measuring cup into her dog food bag, you sealed it back up.

“Are you going?” Darcy Lewis sounded amused as you ran to the front door of your apartment.

“Be good for me while I’m gone, okay baby?” You patted Star’s head. She whined. “I don’t know if I’ll go have drinks tonight, Darcy. I mean, I went last week. You know I still have to go to church next month on Saturday when we usually go for drinks… because of my brother. I need to pick his daughter up from church. She’s got Christmas song rehearsals.”

“Oh!” Darcy sounded delighted. “Cassie, right? Scott’s kid?”

“Yeah.”

After your dad had remarried, Scott Lang had been one of his kids. You liked Scott very much. He was very much a jokester. After he had gotten out of jail, you had helped him get back onto his feet. Now, he was in a relationship with Hope Van Dyke, co-parenting Cassie with his ex-wife. She was a singer at the Bolshoi Opera House, and you were her understudy for the production of Faust.

“Oooh! Then you can see the priest! Oh my god, I saw him at Sunday Mass, and oh my god, if he weren’t a priest-” You stopped Darcy’s gushings as you unlocked your front door, only to close it and lock it. You made a noise deep in your throat.

“That’s the frigging priest you’re talking about, Darc. I don’t need to know what he looks like, okay? I don’t need to know what he looks like while he’s in his robes. Or worse, when he’s out of them.” You couldn’t help but shudder at the thought.

Because yes, you had seen pictures of the priest He was certainly attractive. Chestnut-brown hair that went down to his shoulders, blue eyes, a strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, and not to mention his beard- he was practically a walking wet dream. Not to mention he was very muscular and broad. You had only seen pictures of him on the Internet and Google. Never in person. When you moved out of your mother’s home after you had graduated from high school, you swore to yourself that you would never attend another church.

Especially the church that the current priest now did Sunday Mass in. Just the thought of it made you terrified. It made you feel sick.

“Do you think he’s packing?” Darcy’s words made you choke.

“Oh my god, please stop.” You begged as she cackled, hearing you exit out of your apartment complex, and she heard the chatters of people walking down the busy street.

“No, seriously! He’s like, super freaking tall. He’s gotta be packing under there. Do you think his holy sword is bigger than President Rogers’s sword?” Her voice had lowered to a gossipy whisper, which made your cheeks burn in embarrassment as the thought crossed your mind of, is this truly a friend of mine that I have.

“I don’t know! Why don’t you ask him for a physical Darcy, you’re a doctor!” You proclaimed. Some people on the street looked at you funny. You apologized profusely as you continued your merry way down the street.

“I’m not a physical doctor. That’s not in my field. Why don’t you go ask him? Or ask his ex-girlfriend?” Darcy suggested. “That’s an invasion of privacy,” you snapped at her. “Besides,” you continued on. “I don’t even know who his ex is. And aren’t priests supposed to be pure?”

“Well, this isn’t the Middle Ages. Maybe he’s not a virgin? Maybe he even has tattoos. You know, I met a priest that had tattoos once. Oh, he was wonderful.” Darcy’s suggestion did not fall on deaf ears.

“Still not checking his dick out. That’s gross. Besides, don’t you remember the sex tape that got leaked of that one celebrity in the West? I’m sorry, but I’m not looking forward to seeing myself on every porn site known to man while the priest is balls deep in my kitty, okay? No thanks.”

Your response made her cackle. It made Darcy sob with tears.

“I knew I taught you well. How’s your lady garden doing? Is it doing okay? Still going through a dry spell?” Darcy teased you. Your cheeks flushed, once again. “How can my lady garden be going through a dry spell when I haven’t even had a dick inside of me yet,” your grumble made Darcy laugh again. Reaching a street, you stood with people who were waiting for the stoplight to signal for walking. Now having a few minutes to yourself, you indulged in talking to your friend.

“I should take you out to a club. A strip club. You need to pop that cherry girl.” Darcy giggled as the crosswalk signal shone. Moving along with the crowd, you continued to talk.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’ve been trying to do this since we got into college. I’m twenty-five, not fifteen.” Your scathing remark made Darcy roll her eyes from where she was sitting, at her desk, at work.

“I’m just saying, it could be good for you. I know why you don’t go to church. I will spit on Joseph’s grave for you when I go and see my mom.” Darcy promised.

Just the reminder of the former President made you feel ill.

When you had been a teenager, still on the cusp of your teen years, you had still gone to church with your mother. Your parents had divorced when you had been young, and your dad had remarried to a nice lady who you considered another mother. You had three other half-siblings. However, your mother had not remarried. It had just been the two of you. And when you still attended church, a new priest had been put in.

Even now, as you walked down the street, coincidentally where the Church was, you couldn’t help but stop and stare. Tourists were there, taking pictures. Gushing over it. Talking about how gorgeous it looked.

Just looking at it made you feel sick. Because yes, you agreed, the church was beautiful. It was even more beautiful on the inside. You would know. You had gone inside there for years, once upon a time.

But now?

Now?

You weren’t stepping foot in it.

The priest had been there when you had gone had preyed on your best friend. She hadn’t been the only one. Many other girls had come forward, saying that they had also been targeted. At first, the church had dismissed the claims. Saying that it was absurd, that there was no way that the priest could have messed with young girls because A, he was married, B, he was a Holy Man, and C, because he deflected and said that the girls had come onto him.

… Until he had slipped up with C, saying that how could he have said no? That they were just too darn convincing. He had fallen into sin.

At the remembrance of those events, you couldn’t help but feel the bile beginning to rise up to your throat. You had worked at the altar. You had been in close proximity with the former Bishop.

If it hadn’t been your friend, it could have been you.

It was why when after you had graduated high school, that you had told your mother point-blank that you were no longer going to church. That you just couldn’t.

Being your mother, she had tossed you out of the house. With nowhere to go, you had accepted Darcy’s invitation to stay in her home. Throughout your college years, you lived with her family. Working odd jobs to earn money. All the while working to gain your BFA. Or. Bachelor of Fine Arts. You had majored in Opera, although you did belt out musical theatre tunes as well. You were very fun at karaoke nights.

“… Yeah… I don’t know if I can… go…”

Your words were a little strangled together. Checking the time on your phone, you began to internally panic.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

If you didn’t hurry up now, you’d be late.

“Hey- listen, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later?” You were speeding the hell outta there, jogging down the street, in order to catch the streetlight. You stopped to catch your breath, as the light hadn’t flashed yet.

Phew.

You were saved.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to you during your lunch break.” Darcy’s mood was still chipper as ever. Grabbing your AirPods from within your purse, you took them out of the case and slipped them on, connecting them to your phone.

“Kay. Bye.”

Just as the stoplight glowed, your music started to play.

And then, you were just another person in the crowd, going to work in the city that you loved.

That same day, in the afternoon, with Bucky…

“Excuse me, Father? Do you need anything else?”

Makkari, his deaf assistant at the front desk, looked at him.

James Buchanan Barnes, the current Priest of the Church quickly signed back to her.

“No, that’ll be all, Makkari. Thank you.” Signing back her thanks, Makkari walked out of his office and back down the hall to where the front desk was.

Leaning back into his chair at his desk, James took in a deep breath. His hand ran down his face, all the way down to his jaw. His jaw clenched.

After the past President had passed away due to a heart attack, and Steve's unfortunate father had been placed into the ground, the previous priest had been stripped of his position. James’s jaw continued to clench as he remembered.

He had not spared the man.

And why would he? After what the man had done to those teenage girls? It was disgusting, was what it was. A disgrace.

James hadn’t told Steve.

Steve would have never needed to know the measures he had taken to make sure the previous priest had just remembered what the consequences were when you messed with teenage girls.

At the ripe age of thirty-five, the first five years of serving the church as a priest, James had made sure everything was in order. That the mistakes of the past priest would not continue. He made sure to keep his boundaries. He made sure to treat everyone with respect.

He had joined the church as a priest at the age of twenty-three and had gotten his doctorate when he was twenty-nine. Very young. He had been the youngest man to be made the priest when he had been thirty. He served his country and his people. Not like Steve whereas he would have been President, but he made sure that the church was running. That everything was in order, and that everyone was behaving.

But now… he felt like something was missing.

James had taken a vow of celibacy. He refrained from sexual relations. But he wasn’t a virgin. He had popped his cherry a long time ago. If any word had gotten out that the priest had gone into sexual relations, well, that might have made a much bigger splash than the sex tape scandal that had leaked the Internet of that one American celebrity. James might as well just have lost his job. He might as well as have kissed his robes goodbye.

A deep sigh left the man.

He had sworn an oath, a vow to the church. He would upkeep that promise. But he missed it. Coming home to someone in his bed. James grabbed the whiskey and poured himself some. It was in the middle of the afternoon. No one would care or notice. Taking a gulp, he put his glass down.

His phone vibrated in his pants. Getting it out of his pocket, he quickly checked the notifications.

And then a text showed on his screen.

It was from Natalia.

are u coming to the opera tnite? Steve’s gonna show up with his fiancee

Typing back to Natasha, he saw that she was still typing

you don’t go outside Yasha

you need to go outside

your life is so boring

Rolling his eyes in fondest, James began to type back.

I’m not boring, Natalia. I’m an introvert. I don’t go outside because I don’t like crowds. It’s why I joined the church.

Three grey bubbles popped up from Natasha.

oh yes

im sorry oh righteous one

Go back to work, Natalia. I’ll see you later at the opera.

James imagined Natasha laughing at him when she gave him a thumbs up. Shutting his phone off and putting it in his desk and sliding the drawer shut, he leaned back into his chair and dragged his hand down his face, clenching his jaw.

His thoughts drifted back.

To that headspace he never thought he’d ever find himself in ever again.

Those deep, dark thoughts of just wanting more.

He wanted sex. Granted, James wasn’t a virgin. But he did refrain from sexual touching. But he was a sexual creature. He still masturbated, at the very least.

But he just couldn’t get sex. His fist just wasn’t covering it. It just wasn’t. James wanted to scream.

There was a little part of him though. That part of him that was whispering to him that he had taken a vow of celibacy. That he was a holy man.

It was that part of him that he fought with.

He might as well just have said goodbye to his entire fucking career at this point.

Just as he was about to lose himself in his thoughts even further, a knock at the door caught his attention.

“Father?”

James exhaled.

“Yes?”

It was going to be a long day.

Later that afternoon, with you…

“What do you mean, she can’t go on?”

You sat in Alexei Romanov’s office, perplexed.

You couldn’t believe this.

Alexei Romanov, the current owner of the Bolshoi Opera House, just looked at you as you sat in his office.

His Russian accent was thick as he spoke. “Hope got sick. You are her understudy. Therefore, you will take her place tonight.”

Tonight was the first showing of Faust. Your hands gripped the desk in anxiousness.

Noticing your sudden distress, Alexei put his hands over yours. “Don’t fret, little one. I did not make you understudy just for you to fail. You are good. Good enough to be Hope’s understudy. And no one judges my wisdom, eh?”

You shook your head no.

Alexei chose the cast members with deliberation and carefulness. Even though his own two adopted daughters, Natalia and Yelena were in the ballet corps as ballet rats, and even though Natalia was the Prima Ballerina, she didn’t get there just because of her mother’s favoritism. Her mother, Melina Vostokoff-Romanov, the ballet mistress, trained her daughters and the rest of the ballet rats day and night. They all lived in the ballet girl dorms. You had too, once upon a time. Before you had been moved up to the chorus, and now, as the understudy to the Prima Donna of the opera house.

“You will do just fine, little one. Don’t worry too much, huh?”

Swallowing the thick lump in your throat, you gave him, (or at least tried to), a confident nod.

It was later, during a rehearsal break that you got approached by Natalia and Yelena.

The three of you sat down, eating your lunch. Yelena cooed over Star howling. “She has great lungs,” the blonde-haired young woman remarked as she patted her tutu, “If there was a dog opera, she’d be the main star.”

You snickered. Natalia just looked amused as she took a bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Do you miss being in the ballet corps?” Yelena wondered to you. You pursed your lips as you took a nice gulp of your lemon and ginger tea, with the slightest bit of honey. You often carried your hydro flask of ginger and lemon tea for your throat. Feeling the warm liquid go down your throat, you spoke in a low voice.

“Sometimes,” you replied back to her. “Sometimes, I still dance before going onstage. It helps stretch out my legs, you know. I still do my stretches.”

Both Natalia and Yelena nodded in unison. In seriousness, of course. Stretching was always important in their line of work. They were flexible than a football player. Or what America perceived as football anyway. The three of you heard down the grapevine that America referred to what you would call football “soccer.”

Which was weird in all honesty in itself.

But then again, America itself was a weird place. You had a friend who was a chorus member in the Metropolitan Opera House in New York City. She often spoke about Americans referring to things that you would normally call a jumper a sweater.

America was truly odd.

“Good,” Natalia hummed. “Are you excited for the first show tonight?” She asked you curiously. You took another gulp of your tea as you gently put your hydro flask down on the table in your dressing room. Your dressing room was a tad bit smaller than the leads. But, it still held a couch, a TV that was propped up on the wall, your vanity where you had all of your stage makeup stashed, a mini-fridge, a microwave, and a table where you kept all of your tea bags and your kettle plugged into the power outlet.

From where you were, sitting on your vanity, you looked at Natalia who was sitting on your couch while Yelena had found your TV remote, and was watching some Russian soap opera.

“Your father said that since Hope couldn’t make it tonight, that I’m taking her place.”

Yelena gasped out loud.

“Oh!” She exclaimed happily, “How exciting! Are you excited?” She asked you giddy.

You swallowed that huge lump in your throat. Just like how you had done in Alexei’s office.

“I don’t… know.” Your voice had turned soft. “I’m… nervous. I know the part backwards and forwards, I… I know the blocking but… I’m terrified. I know that I’ll do fine but it’s just… I’m nervous. Everybody's going to be looking at me.”

Two-thousand, one-hundred, and fifty-three seats.

That was how many people were coming to see Faust tonight.

You couldn’t help with nervously fiddle with your thumbs. A nervous tick you had picked up as a child, whenever you got anxious before a show.

“You’ll be fine,” Natalia reassured you as she came to put her hands over yours. The redhead even had a reassuring look in her eyes.

“Come on. Deep breaths little Songbird.”

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“-You know, Yasha’s coming tonight.” Yelena’s remark did not fly by Natalia. Removing her hands from yours, she turned to look at her younger sister. “Oh?” questioned Natalia, “So he said yes?’

Now.

You had no idea who this “Yasha” was, but whoever he was, he must have been very important, because Yelena gave Natalia a toothy grin as she replied back in Russian.

“Uh-huh. His schedule is all cleared for tonight and he secured a box. Box Five. You know that’s his signature spot,” Yelena giggled.

Natalia rolled her eyes.

“Yasha’s always been some what of a scamp,” Natalia remarked. Yelena just continued to giggle.

“Who’s Yasha?”

Yelena giggled once again.

“Don’t worry little Songbird,” Natalia reassured you again.

“You’ll find out who is soon enough.”

Later that evening, with James…

“Are you sure you’re going to come?”

James was at home, as his pet cat Alpine ran around the luxurious apartment, chasing her toy mouse around.

The white feline had been overjoyed when her daddy had come home. Alpine had greeted him at the door, meowing at him and pawing him for some much-needed head rubs and tummy tubs. And cuddles. Lots of cuddles. Then, she had retreated to her scratching post to scratch at it.

James had then got out of his vestments and into much comfier clothes. Now in his black jumper and a pair of sweats, the broad-shoulder man leveled his phone on his shoulder as he talked to Steve.

“Yeah, Steve,” James replied back in Russian as he grabbed his water bottle, uncapping it and taking a gulp.

Alpine pounced on her tiny mouse, shifting onto her back as she rolled around on the rug, playing with her toy happily.

James watched as Alpine played with her toy before he heard Steve speaking again.

“… You’re gonna take your usual box, aren’t you, jerk?” Steve’s teasing voice made James grumble underneath his breath. “Course I am, punk.” James huffed.

“So, I’ll meet you there, jerk?”

“Yeah, punk.”

Alpine yeeted her toy across the room. A painful meow escaped her as she huffed, getting on her hind legs. Getting into position to pounce on the little mouse toy, she kicked her hind legs back in a show of intimidation.

A deep hiss left her when she zeroed her gaze right on the purple toy. With a meow that sounded like a battle cry, she leaped across the room and tackled her toy.

James’s chuckles snapped her out of her train of thought. The purple mouse's tail hanging off of her teeth, Alpine stared at him dead in the eyes.

She watched as her daddy chuckled down at her, getting down onto her level to pet her head. Alpine meowed in content.

“I gotta go to the opera, alright Alpine?” James told his cat. “I’ll come back home and spoil you. We'll cuddle on the couch together. How’s that sound?”

Alpine meowed. James took that as a yes.

Her tail swished, as if to say, you’d better come home in one piece, dad.

When James got to the opera house, many people were already getting in their seats. James made his way up to his box and took his seat. He had changed out of his jumper and sweats, exchanging them for a nice black button-down shirt, a pair of his nicest black slacks, and his black dress shoes.

Because there was a dress code policy. Whenever you went to the opera or the theater, you did not wear a simple t-shirt or jeans. You needed to dress nice. It was the policy.

So, James sat in his chair, in his box, waiting for the show to begin. He even took his phone out of his pants and scrolled through the news as people made their way to their seats.

After a few minutes of aimlessly scrolling through his phone, he heard someone over the intercom speaking in Russian.

“Please silence all and any cell phones. The performance shall begin shortly.”

Shutting off his own phone, James pocketed his phone back into his pants.

A few minutes later, the curtains opened.

Revealing the aged scholar Faust. The actor playing the aged scholar began to sing and lament about how his studies had left him to nothing, that his studies had made him lose out on enjoying life and finding love.

James watched as the man onstage picked up his goblet, containing poison, using it so he could drink it to end his misery. Every time Faust tried to drink it however, a choir stopped him.

James had been watching.

But just then, he saw it.

The actress playing Marguerite appeared right there, on stage, singing. She was trying to convince him to accept Mephistopheles’s offer to exchange his soul for his services on Earth.

You were nervous. But, you were singing along, looking at the principal tenor Jimmy Woo, as your spinning wheel spun. He was giving you an encouraging look as you spun around, making eye contact with the principal bass Vision, or Vis, as everyone called him, who was playing Mephistopheles. His red and black makeup made you want to burst out a giggle, but you were a professional. Continuing to sing, you watched as Jimmy raised up his goblet and took a gulp of it, even though nothing was in there.

Hiding your smile, you and the chorus hit the crescendo note and vanished just as the now young scholar Faust and his strange companions set out into the world.

As the opera continued, James continued to watch you with rapt attention.

You were just… wonderful. James couldn’t quite put a pin in it, what made you so alluring to him. You happily moved along with the chorus and ballet rats, Marguerite joining Faust and the villagers in their waltz as Faust declared his admiration for her.

He watched as you modestly declined his arm, before being taken away by Natalia and Yelena, dressed in commoner's clothing, leading you towards Stage Right.

Act Two bled into Act Three as James watched the young man playing Siébel leaving a bouquet of flowers on Marguerite’s doorstep, while Mephistopheles urged Faust to buy Marguerite a present. When Mephistopheles put a box and a hand mirror next to Siébel’s flowers, James saw you come back.

You walked right back on stage, coming back Stage Left. You wandered around the stage, mimicking the blocking as you sang a sad ballad about the King of Thule, as Marguerite pondered over her encounter with Faust during the waltz with the villagers.

Vision’s wife Wanda, who was playing your neighbor Marthe, came out from Stage Right and spoke to you about how nice the jewels looked.

“Must be from an admirer,” Wanda teased to you as you opened the box, procuring the jewelry and sliding the prop onto your neck. Getting up and doing a spin, you giggled as the stage lights caught onto your jewelry.

As the orchestra moved into the Jewel Song, you happily danced around the stage and sang, pulling a giggling Wanda into your dance. Happily singing the aria while you danced on and about, you did a little spin, the jewelry caught the lights, making them shine.

James couldn’t stop watching as you happily spun around, your voice floating as you finished the aria.

As the audience clapped, Wanda pulled you back as the two of you giggled, before you were joined by Vision and Jimmy.

Leaning back into his seat, James Buchanan Barnes swallowed thickly. Watching as Natalia and Yelena led a couple of the ballet rats back on stage, he made eye contact with Natalia.

Having caught Yasha’s eye, Natalis didn’t nod, nor did she even wink at him.

It was a knowing look.

Natalia knew what he was thinking.

Two peas in a pod, one could say.

It had been that way ever since they had been growing up together in Moscow as little children when Winifred and George Barnes had met each other while Winifred had been a chorus ballerina and George had been in the orchestra as a Viola player. James knew the Bolshoi Opera House backwards and forwards. Every corridor, every underground corridor too. Even the underground sewers.

And, as Natalia steered you away, she saw you.

You had finally made eye contact with the priest in Box Five.

Prey always knew when they had been caught by their predator, after all.

“To the opening night of Faust!”

“To the opening night of Faust!” The entire company, including you, cheered as you did the toast.

More cheers sounded as all of you took a gulp of your vodka shots. Laughter and loud conversations soon filled the room as you began to walk around the huge room, where the after party was being held.

The after party was being held in the huge foyer, and after everyone had gotten out of their costumes and into the clothing that they were going to wear tonight, someone had popped open the vodka and champagne bottles and the party had officially gone into full swing. The cast and crew were all in the room, and you waved and greeted friends, colleagues, and patrons alike.

Natalia had given you one of her silver dresses. Even though you had protested at the idea. But, Natalia had won after she had convinced you that it would be fine and that she didn’t really need it anyway. So, clad in Natalia Romanov’s silver dress and a pair of matching silver heels, with your face painted and sculpted to the musical gods, you wandered around with a glass still full of champagne.

Just then, you felt it.

A shiver go up your spine.

“Yasha!” You heard Yelena shout from where she was. She was making her way towards you as the blonde dancer waved at someone, motioning them to follow her. You watched as she bounced towards you gracefully, even with the glass of champagne in her hands. She was almost like a fairy, gracefully bouncing your way towards you with a smile on her nude painted lips.

“Songbird!” Yelena greeted you cheerfully, “C’mon! I wanna introduce you to Yasha! Where’s Tash? Good Lord, is she talking to Barton again?” Yelena groaned as the two of you weaved through the crowd, heading towards whoever this “Yasha” person was.

“Yasha!”

Your heart immediately skipped a beat when you saw the “Yasha” person turn around.

Oh no.

No. No. No. No. No. No.

No.

It was-

It was the frigging Priest!

Jesus Christ on a frigging stick.

He was more attractive in person than you initially thought.

Google Images did not do him any justice.

That strong jaw. Those sharp cheekbones. And the beard. Oh, the beard. His shoulders were broad and they were making the nice black button-down shirt he was wearing look like his muscles were practically rippling through the fabric.

And… was that a tattoo you were seeing peeking out from the first two buttons of his shirt that were unbuttoned peeking out?

Yes… it was. You saw a smidge of the beginnings of his tattoo on his chest peeking out.

James’s shoulder length hair was tied back into a man bun, and you swore to yourself that you didn’t care much for men who had their hair in man buns, but at this moment?

Yeah.

You were feeling it.

At this very moment, you swore to yourself that you were so wet to the point where someone could easily drown a toddler in your panties.

And for a moment, you totally forgot that you were staring at the priest, practically ogling him like you were some lovesick teenager who just discovered that she had a crush on the most popular guy in school.

Until your brain had caught up with your heart and you were steered right back in your current reality.

Oh shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You had just been shamelessly ogling the priest.

Fuck!

Your mother, if she had still been in your life, would have not been very happy right now. She would have dragged you off by your ear and reprehended you for your selfish and reckless behavior.

“… Yasha! Here she is!” Yelena looked very cheerful as she introduced James to you, speaking your name.

The first thing you really noticed about him was his eyes.

Those eyes.

The way they captivated you, held you prisoner in his gaze. His eyes alone made your breath hitch in your throat, leaving you unable to speak.

James had rendered you completely speechless.

“Hello, little one.”

Fucking God.

His voice was just so... nope. It was husky and deep. You weren't about to divulge into deeper details. Who were you, EL James? Please. As if.

You thanked every lucky star in the universe that Yelena was still holding onto you. Because if she hadn’t, then you were sure you have collapsed right then and there on the floor like some dramatic bitch.

But, then again, that was your profession, so maybe, probably, people wouldn’t be all that surprised.

You hoped.

“Hello Father,” you managed to say with a tight smile on your face, “I hope you enjoyed our opening night. We’ve been slaving away at it. Aleksandr made us work our asses off.”

“He made the orchestra go through the waltz dance three times one night Yasha!” Yelena whined, suddenly remembering the hellscape that was Aleksandr Pierce’s harsh eye.

“And Melina made the ballet rats go through the waltz dance three times too because of that,” you added, now clearly amused as James saw you take a sip of your champagne.

You were hiding an amused smile behind your glass before you heard Yelena tell you she had spotted Helen, one of the other ballet rats. Bidding you a goodbye, she happily bounced off, her curled blonde hair bouncing behind her like waves.

James spoke again. Making you maintain that eye contact with him.

“I enjoyed the show very much. Your portrayal of Marguerite is… exquisite. You captured her perfectly. How long have you been at the opera house?” James inquired as he took a gulp of his water. Being a priest, he didn’t drink all that much.

Your tongue came out to dart your lips, to moisten them.

“Well… my mother enrolled me in ballet classes when I was three. And I’ve been taking singing lessons ever since I was four. After I got my degree a while ago, then I joined the opera house pretty quickly. So… I would like to say, a couple of years now. Four or five, at the very most.” Your response made him raise an eyebrow. Looking a little sheepish and possibly a little bit embarrassed as well, “I was in the ballet for a long time. My mother had the funds to enroll me in the ballet corps with Natalia and Yelena. Here. But I didn’t stay in the dorms because my mother didn’t want me to ‘mix up with that crowd’-” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes in annoyance at that. Even putting air quotes around the 'mix up with that crowd' part. James certainly noticed. He also noticed the way you gritted your teeth a little, gnashing them together.

He got the vibe that you were not very close to your mother.

So, therefore, he did not push it.

“… So, I suppose you can say I’ve grown up here. It’s my second home, really. I don’t think I’d rather be in a place but here. It feels like home.” you confessed.

James cracked a smile.

He was smiling!

Actually smiling!

You could not believe it.

“Are you quite fond of the arts then, Father?” you inquired of James as you gulped down the rest of your drink. As a waiter walked by you, they quietly took your empty glass away from you and asked if you would like another. Agreeing and thanking them, you got another glass of champagne.

“I am. I’m very close with Natalia and Yelena. We all grew up together. My parents used to work here. My mother was a part of the chorus and my father was a Viola player.”

“Oh?”

You were interested.

He had piqued your interest. Not that he hadn’t already, but this interested you about him even more.

“Yes.” James nodded vigorously. “They’re retired now, though I’m afraid.”

“You should bring them to see the show. We run for a couple of more months, Father. If they’re up for it, of course.”

You were smiling. The curves of your lips were up and your eyes were sparkling.

All of a sudden, someone called your name. Breaking your smile as you quickly whipped your head around, doing a whole one-eighty.

Natalia was making her way towards you and James.

“Oh! You met Yasha! It’s so good to see you, Yasha. But we have to go. Ladies' night tonight. We’re hitting up the club.” Natalia actually winked at him this time as she tugged on your arm, making you protest.

“Hey! I didn’t- I wasn’t aware of this!” You yelped as you were tugged away by Natalia, who was gleeful.

“Tash? Tasha? TASH! Hey! No, I wasn’t finished talking to- Tash!”

Your pleas followed the two of you as Natalia whisked you away, leaving James alone.

“Did you enjoy the opera tonight, James?”

That was Alexei.

The Romanov family, although they did go to church every Sunday and called him by his proper title, they did not do that whenever James visited their home during the holidays.

Turning to face the man he considered a father figure, James gave him a nod. “I found the actress playing Marguerite very enchanting, Alexei.”

“Oh yes. Our little Songbird. I adore her, just like every member of this Opera House. But her mother, very uptight woman if you ask me. Very religious as well. You might have seen her in church many times. You do remember the scandal with our old priest, Obadiah Stane, yes?”

Indeed.

James did indeed remember.

“Our little Songbird had left the church after the old priest had gotten stripped of his title. Her mother did not take that lightly and cast her out of her own home. She lived with her friend Darcy Lewis for a couple of years, if I remember correctly.” The two men watched as Natalia grabbed Yelena while you were practically sandwiched between the two of them.

“Do they still live together?” James asked him. Alexei shook his head no. “No, son. Darcy lives with her boyfriend. Loki Lauyferson, I believe? The old English man that came to live down here, expanding his business. His older brother is named Thor, I believe. Thor and their older sister Hela live in the UK.”

“Ah.”

James turned to Alexei. “Is there anything else you can tell me about her?” he asked politely. Alexei turned to him and clapped him on the back. Just like how the older man had done when James had been accepted in the church all the way back when.

You had just begun to make it towards the doors.

However, you couldn’t help but turn around, just to see if James was still there.

He was.

And James was looking straight at you.

Natalia asked you something, and suddenly, you were out of the doors and entered the chilly Russian air.

You were gone.

“… Much, yes. Come. We’ll speak in my office.”

Turning his gaze back to Alexei, James gave a firm nod.

That sounded good.

Very good.

Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44, @bxnnywriting, @hawsx3

#dark!priest!bucky #dark!priest!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 4 years

Text

The Devil’s Daughter Ch. 1

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: The Winter Soldier X Reader (Bucky X Reader)

Summary: Born and bred to be a monster worthy to lead Hydra into a new age you must decide if you will become the beast they always intended or perhaps something greater... Someone worthy even, of love.

Warnings: Literally all of them. 18+ only and please read with caution if you’re triggered by violence of any nature.

A/N: Well. Here we go.

I won’t lie. Writing this was cathartic and I hope that it may be the same reading it. Some serious ANTIFA fuck this up vibes.

Love y’all.

TAGS ARE OPEN

You weren’t sure how long you’d stared at your hands.

They seemed strange things, somehow beyond your comprehension. Attempts to flex the fingers on them had resulted in only an unsettling twitch, you knew that wasn’t the right response, and they were somehow both burning and cold in equal measure.

In fact, your whole body felt like a contradiction. Something known, yet foreign. Too much feeling, too little. Too hot, too cold. Too still, yet constantly something was moving.

Had you always been able to feel the flow of blood through your veins? Did each hair follicle always hum as the air moved around you? Who… who were you?

All the memories of the past 20 years hit you with the force of a train.

Frantically you begin to pace in the small white room, your heartbeat increasing with each lap, your breathing turning into a rapid pant. Your mind steadily piecing things together, for better or worse, pulling who you were back into sharp focus. With that clarity comes something else.

Taking a deep breath your pacing stops.

There wasn’t a word for what you felt. This emotion went farther than rage, conviction, or vengeance. You think you’ve felt it before, in fleeting moments, but now it’s amplified - along with everything else it seemed - now-

A creaking under your hands draws your attention, pulling you away from that line of thought. With confusion, you gape at the metal bed frame beneath your hands. You’d taken hold of it when you’d stopped pacing and now the metal was crumpled and twisted.

It worked, you realize. It actually, bloody, worked. A small chuckle trips over your lips - you’d genuinely thought you’d end up like Pierce’s daughter, dead.

A few weeks ago was the first time you’d seen Eric in almost a year.

He’d been different in a way you couldn’t name since that night with The Soldier. You knew it wasn’t that he actually remembered what happened - if he had you’d no doubt he’d have come close to killing you - but perhaps an impression of something stuck. Regardless, when the time came for you to go to uni a few months later he’d set you up with your own flat and sent you on your way, saying that you needed ‘time to explore yourself.’

It was the one kindness he’d ever done you.

In the last three years, you’d crafted a new version of yourself.

She was normal, relatively speaking. Studied business, partied in SoHo with friends, had a string of short - albeit far from vanilla - affairs with several people, fairly typical stuff.

The only time you saw Eric was for required formal events, someone ascending the ranks within Hydra or the random social event. It totaled to perhaps six or seven in three years. Which was why you were shocked, and a bit unsettled, to see him at your graduation.

You’d been worried his presence would keep you from enjoying the moment with your friends, that he’d pull you into some droll dinner to pretend he was a caring and proud father. Instead, he’d simply given you a cold congratulations and instructed you to meet him at his office the following Monday.

It still put a damper on your entire celebration - all you could think about was what the hell he wanted from you. Not even the distraction of a beautiful woman clad in leather had managed to remove your worry.

There had been a million things you’d thought this meeting would be about. You’d run countless scenarios in your head. None came close to what your father shared with you from across his polished desk.

“We feel it’s time for you to join The Council.” He said as though he was commenting on the weather.

“I-I’m honored.” you stammer a bit grimacing internally. He raises a doubting brow at you before striding over to the stocked bar cart to begin pouring a drink.

“You’ll be taking the third seat.” You almost choke on your tea. “Is that a problem?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Not at all,” you say, willing your voice steady. “What position will Jennifer Pierce be taking in that case?” Alexander Pierce headed the US arm of Hydra and to your knowledge, the third seat had been intended for his daughter.

“Jennifer Pierce is dead.”

“Ah.”

“Of course-” he says, turning back to you and taking a sip of scotch before continuing- “there can be no ascension of this kind without a trial to test your worth.” You knew as much, Hydra always demanded a pound of flesh - at minimum.

“She failed hers.” Jennifer was many years your senior, had done years of fieldwork and been a trusted confidant of her own father if, she failed whatever trial this seat demanded… “You will not.”

“Can you hear us?” A male voice asks over hidden speakers bringing you back to the present.

“Yes.”

“Can you tell us your full name?”

“Catherine Eileen Clayton.”

“What is your date of birth, Catherine?” Ah, cognitive tests.

“The third of January 1983,” you sigh. “I’m twenty years old, a double Capricorn, and very in control of my faculties. Can we move on?”

A buzz sounds by the door. The noise grates against your newly sensitive eardrums, causing you to grimace. When it opens Eric stands in the corridor, a proud, if not smug, smile on his face.

“I knew you were born for this,” he extends a hand. You eye it before looking up to meet his gaze. Rather than take it you remain unmoving, waiting for him to tell you what came next. For a fleeting second his eyes narrow before sweeping his arm to beckon you from the room.

“There is one final step before you’ll be ready to ascend to your seat on The Council,” he begins to stride down the hall, expecting you to follow.

“And that is?” He stops dead in his tracks. Your heart leaps into your throat as you recognize the set of his shoulders, instinctively you brace for a blow. Instead, he turns slowly to you, his expression unreadable as he observes how you haven’t moved.

“You can rot in that room or follow me obediently to find out.” A too familiar chill crawls up your spine and settles in your chest. Without another word, you follow him.

As you make your way through the labyrinthine corridors of Hydra’s London base you remember being dropped down here at 10, and having to find your way out - none of the adults you encountered would even acknowledge you existed. You remember training in one of these many blank rooms - both physical and mental - though, torture may be a better word.

The chasm that opens in your mind almost feels like home, one you haven’t been to in a little while. Quickly you turn your thoughts to how your blood seems to hum through your veins, how loud your steps are, the low tension in your muscles - anything to pull you away from that beckoning void.

Eric stops in front of a nondescript door, pressing his thumb into the handle. An unseen mechanism whirs to life followed by a distinct click. Before he opens the door he turns his eyes on you, studying.

“You’ve done well thus far,” he turns the handle, looking forward. “Don’t disappoint me now, Catherine.” You don’t miss the order in his tone. A voice whispers, Yes Papa, but you refuse to let your tongue form those words.

With bated breath, you follow him. It’s much like a room you remember from long ago, a cell where he showed you exactly the kinds of monsters that Hydra could craft. Behind you the door closes, the locks sliding back into place.

A cell lies on the other side of the room. Through the bars, you see a woman, nude, her back to you. Deep red hair tumbling in thick waves, her ragged breath scraping over your ears.

No, you beg silently, not her. Please not her.

Once you and Eric enter the cell, the woman turns red-rimmed eyes to you both. Relief thunders through you as you release the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. This wasn’t Natalia, they hadn’t brought her here as a sacrifice to whatever future lay before you. Though, now the question rattled in your brain, impossible to ignore.

“What is this?” You ask, lazily gesturing toward the woman.

“What do you think?”

“Can we stop with the riddles? Just fuc-”

You were clearly out of practice. When his backhand cracks across your cheek it leaves you reeling, ears ringing, though you don’t fall. Once you blink your vision clear you look back to him, attempting to keep your face straight.

“I believe I asked you a question,” he sighs out.

You answer, “I assume she’s failed in some way, showed some unforgivable weakness.” You try to stop the words but they come anyway, “But you cannot expect me to kill her?”

“Oh? And why is that?” It’s your turn to sigh.

“Honestly, that is hardly a test. If it gets things moving forward I suppose I will,” the woman shifts her back against the wall at this. “I just don’t know what that will prove.” He smiles, slowly. Clearly you got something right.

“Perceptive. Killing her would be nothing for you, even before,” you swear the sick bastard looks proud. That void threatens once more, something whispering from the darkness. You push it away.

“However, you’re wrong about her crime. She’s not here for being weak or unworthy, rather, she has refused to fall in line. We have no need for an unbroken horse.” He pauses, striding to the other side of the cell.

With his back turned, you look into her eyes. They burn with a fire you recognize - for an instant, you’re 11 again, you can feel the weight of that gun in your hands, hear your Mother’s voice-

“But you won’t be putting her down.” The sound of another lock clicking draws your focus to where Eric stands, hands behind his back.

A panel slides open with a swish. Eric steps aside just enough and you see him, The Soldier.

He’d been gone when you’d woken in the late afternoon years ago, like some macabre guardian angel. Habitually, your fingers stroke the scar on your palm, remembering how gentle he’d been as he sutured the cut.

The woman begins to sob. A broken, “No,” slipping out here and there.

Eric turns back to you, a wicked smile coloring his features. “The Fist of Hydra,” he walks back to stand beside you, The Soldier doesn’t move.

“You remember him don’t you?” Your heart begins to beat a tattoo of alarm against your ribs. “I showed him to you when you were a child.”

“Yes,” you will your heart to quiet, feeling like it’s loud enough for the whole room to hear.

“It’s one thing to take a life and quite another to put the blood on the hands of someone else.” He looks down at you, “You’ll prove you can handle that, and The Soldier, by utilizing him to remove this stain from our ranks.”

He looks over his shoulder at the woman, “Be creative. He hasn’t been let loose in some time.” With that, he strolls casually to the far corner of the cell, leaning back against the wall as though he was about to watch some kids play football.

The Soldier steps forward and the panel behind him slides shut, disappearing as though it never was. You study him, searching those pale eyes for some spark of recognition. Whatever had been there before was long gone, all that stood before you was a weapon, a tool waiting to be put to use. It chilled you.

Behind you, the woman still weeps. It makes something bitter rise in you - pathetic, she was nothing like your mother. Even so, words you hadn’t allowed yourself to remember for so long rise in your mind.

“Always remember that you are more than this.”

“No.” One crisp, clear, syllable. It may as well have been a bomb.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ll be better than all of them as long as you remember.” Your mother’s voice echoes in your mind.

Languidly you slide your eyes to Eric, “I said, no.”

Everything goes quiet as his anger builds, a fire slowly eating all the oxygen in the space. What was coming would likely consume you leaving nothing but a husk behind, you don’t care. It feels good.

Despite the waves of rage rolling off of him, his face remains impassive as he approaches you. A couple of feet away he stops, head tilting to the side as though he was seeing something puzzling.

“She’s done nothing worth a death sentence.” You state matter of factly.

“You’re questioning me?”

“No,” god that word felt so good, intoxicating. Maybe you were mad from the power it seemed to give you. It was the best explanation for your next words. “I’m telling you you’re wrong.”

You read once that wolves show their teeth before they attack. Devils, you know, do the same.

Eric’s smile is broad as he slips his suit jacket off his shoulders. Your eyes track him as he hangs it over the horizontal bar of the cell. Unhurriedly he unbuttons his cuffs, methodically rolling the sleeves up to the elbow. When he speaks again, he’s unbuttoning a single button to allow him room to tuck away his tie.

“Then how would you address the situation, Catherine?”

“I wouldn’t.” He steps toward you, on instinct you move back, not wanting to allow him a close range to strike.

“You’d allow disrespect to stand? Allow this stain to spread?” Another step forward, another retreat from you.

“No.”

“Then what? You’d do nothing to handle this weak-”

“You said yourself she isn’t weak. In fact, it seems to me, the problem is your own weakness if you can’t handle one-”

Stupid. That’s the only word echoing through your skull as it slams into the wall behind you with enough force to knock a lesser person unconscious.

Right now you’re not thinking about the bent metal of the bed frame in your recovery room. You’re not thinking of your sensitive ears or the weeks of preparation, or that you lived through the procedure when others have died.

No.

Right now you’re a little girl again, realizing your father is the Devil for the first time. Right now you’re the same powerless thing you’ve always been in his presence, the fear of a lifetime suffocating you.

“Would you like to finish that statement?” Eric growls. You shake your head, too afraid to speak. “I thought not.” His fingers dig into your neck.

“You’ve grown far too bold. Forgotten where you belong.” He takes a deep breath, eyelids fluttering as though the smell of your terror was intoxicating. “Perhaps you need a reminder.”

“I’m sorry, Papa,” god you hate yourself for those words.

“No,” he reclaims the power you’d felt so briefly. His knee pries your thighs apart, “You will be.”

When his head dips down, the grotesque feel of his tongue against the skin of your neck almost makes you wretch. Before you close your eyes in an attempt to block out everything happening and all you know is to come, you catch The Soldier’s intent stare.

He looked as though he was straining on an invisible leash, his entire body coiled tension begging for release.

He’s waiting on something, you think as teeth sink into your shoulder. The pain brings clarity. He’s waiting on me.

All it takes is one nod to break the invisible tethers binding him. With terrifying speed, The Soldier strikes, pulling Eric from you, pinning his arms and legs, rendering him immobile. To his credit he didn’t struggle, knowing he couldn’t break such a hold.

“Release me, Soldat!” Eric barks in harsh Russian. The Soldier doesn’t even flinch, his eyes remain locked on you, awaiting an order. “Soldat!”

The fear which had paralyzed you seeps away as your senses begin to return and you stare at Eric. He looks angry but still calm, never willing to let his facade fall for long. Under the surface though, you can hear the racing of his heart, it seems to pick up at the same pace your own slows. The vein in his throat pulses, his breath is barely controlled, and you note the small beads of sweat beginning to form on his skin.

Weak, something hisses from that void. This time you don’t silence it - you agree, you welcome it, this darkness he so proudly fostered within you. Now you allow the void to rise. He made you this. Killer. Demon. Weapon. The void whispers. And it is not wrong. You were all these things and now-

You kneel before Eric, gripping his chin in your hand.

“I don’t think he listens to you anymore, Papa,” you say, the final word laced with mockery. You pat his cheek as you stand and pace away, purposely showing your back to him to be sure he knew you were no longer afraid. That you’d never be afraid of him again.

“I do think you had a point earlier though. About putting blood on someone else’s hands being different.” You turn back to him, wanting to look into his eyes as you say, “It would be a shame to waste such a prime opportunity to learn. Don’t you think?” His eyes widen in understanding that now, the void he created would consume him.

“Soldier,” you look to him, those cold blue eyes unwavering. “Break him, but do not let him die.”

You had worried for a moment that you needed to be more specific in your commands. After all, you wanted your father to suffer at least a taste of the horrors he’d done to others throughout his life. It only took a few moments for you to see that you worried in vain. Be it training or retribution, The Soldier methodically broke Eric down in ways that would cause the most pain without the release of death.

For what may have been hours you remain entranced by the scene before you. Every cry of pain was a symphony. The blood on the cold concrete a masterpiece.

This was for your mother. For every person, he’d hurt. For the child, he’d broken and forged into something irredeemable.

This was justice. Or at the very least, the justice you understood, the justice he deserved.

“That’s enough,” you sigh contently. Without hesitation The Soldier stops, stepping away from Eric.

Your father’s face is almost unrecognizable. Blood, tears, snot, and vomit all paint his features into something different, something grotesque. The outside finally reflecting the sickening soul beneath. Slowly you take in the rest of his broken body, stopping at the wet stain on his trousers.

“Piss? Really, Eric, you’re embarrassing yourself.” You press your boot to his throat as he’d done to you when you were a child.

“You once told me, that dangerous miscalculations only served to land one under the boot of those worthy of bravery. Do you remember?” He makes no move of acknowledgment, only stares up at you with one defiant eye - the other swollen shut.

“Oh you must,” you press harder and he gurgles. “It was just before you made me put a bullet in my mother’s head.”

“Tell me, Papa,” you spit the word. “Am I brave enough now?”

You lift him from the floor as though he’s nothing but a rag doll and slam him into the wall where he’d pinned you earlier. Exhilaration didn’t come close to encapsulating this feeling.

“I believe I asked you a question,” you say in an echo of his own cool tone.

“You… little… devil,” he manages to say with a mouth missing several teeth. A laugh, bright and ringing, pours from you.

“I am the devil you made. Aren’t you proud?”

With one hand on Eric’s throat, and the other on his chest, you begin to push your fingers between his ribs, pressure increasing bit by bit.

The tattered fabric of his shirt and his flesh begins to give way beneath your steel fingers. A whimper rises from him that slowly forms into a cry of agony. All you can do is smile as you feel the wet heat around your hand.

A little further and you feel the beat, the pulse of life that had animated this man for all his days.

“Goodbye, Papa,” you whisper as you squeeze and feel that pulse cease.

The silence that follows is absolute.

Everything in you, and around you, quiet.

Eventually, you let him drop to the floor in an undignified heap, stepping back. Only then does the void recede enough for you to feel anything more than triumph. Even then, you feel no regret, only the heavy knowledge of the price your actions would demand.

A trembling breath escapes you as soft shifting sound draws your focus from what you’d done and back to The Soldier. He stands straight, quietly observing you. When you meet his eyes you’d swear there was satisfaction there.

Fuck it. You’d likely die for this and even with him by your side you were not going to get out of this building unless they let you out.

“Care for a drink?” You ask, lips quirking in a smile. He says nothing, just cocks his head a bit to the side. You shrug, “Suit yourself. I’m getting one.” Or several.

To your surprise, the door to the cell opens. You stroll out hearing him just behind you. Good.

“Hey!” A woman calls out. “What about me?” Honestly, you’d forgotten about her entirely.

“What about you?” Is all you toss over your shoulder as the cell slams shut behind you.

There was nothing you could do for her now, hell there wasn’t anything you could truly do for yourself. It would be a miracle if you made it back to Eric’s office without a bullet in your head. The Soldier may even be the one to put it there, he may be biding his time - though something in you doubted this.

You’d spared the woman all you could, the rest would be up to her.

The private elevator slides open, revealing Eric’s office, not a guard, soldier, or assassin in sight - well, save for the one you rode up with. You’re surprised but not relieved. They’d come, and soon.

You raise your hands to rub your face only to be hit with the copper tang of blood - your right arm covered almost to the elbow. Suddenly you’re too hot, burning, your chest tight.

Outside the floor to ceiling window, London glitters like something in a fairytale. You rush to it, pressing your face to the cool glass, forcing your mind to focus on the city around you. Even through the thick glass, you can hear the rush of the wind, the slightest hum of traffic below.

Breathe, Catherine, you try to coach yourself. Breathe. But you can’t.

The blood paired with the city sounds that should have been impossible for you to hear makes you realize something you’d been foolish to miss in the first place. They would not kill you. Not now.

Eric had once said that Hydra didn’t make a habit of wasting good parts, one look at The Soldier was a fair reminder of that. Before, you’d been valuable enough but ultimately replaceable - now you were an investment.

“Someone is coming.” The Soldier’s voice cuts through your panic like a knife. You turn to see him by the door, arms crossed. Whether he was keeping you in or others out you couldn’t know.

Taking a shaky breath you nod, “Thought they’d be faster about it if I’m being honest.” As the doorknob turns his hand moves for the knife in his belt. Interesting.

“No,” you shake your head. He stands at attention instead, looking more like a blood-spattered statue than a man. You lean against the desk as the door swings open to reveal -

“Secretary Pierce?” You don’t try to hide the surprise in your voice, he wasn’t exactly who you’d expect to come for you.

“Miss Clayton,” he smiles brightly. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be here. It’s been too long,” he holds out a hand.

“Ah,” you hold up your red right palm. “Haven’t had a chance to freshen up. Please, make yourself comfortable,” you gesture to the bar cart. “I’ll just be a moment.”

Freshen up? You lean against the bathroom door judging yourself. Freshen up. As though you’d been out for a light jog rather than literally shoving your hand through your own father’s chest. Freshen up. Christ.

You catch your reflection in the mirror and freeze.

Blood not only covered your arm but had soaked into your shirt, staining your chest, leaving splatters up your neck and on your face. Despite the gore, you looked fresh, skin dewy and bright, your eyes sparkling. It painted an unsettling image.

Even so… you smiled.

He was dead. That bastard you’d once called Papa. Dead. By your hand.

No matter what followed, no matter what they did to you, your Mother had her justice today. They couldn’t take that away.

You wash your hands as best you can and wipe some of the blood off your face. Getting rid of the rest would be impossible right now and there was a part of you that didn’t want it gone. Let them see it.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you say exiting the bathroom.

“No apologies needed. Honestly, I wanted to give you time to process before speaking with you, but the others thought it best we move quickly.”

“I see,” you turn to the bar cart to make a drink.

“So?” You sigh as you take a seat in the wingback across from where Pierce had settled himself. He sips his drink before speaking.

“Of course we want to give you time to transition. It will be an abrupt change to your lifestyle, especially for someone so young - but we feel confident that you’ll manage spectacularly. You’ve always-”

“Excuse me, Secretary-”

“Alex, please.”

“Alex,” it felt strange to call this man who you’d known your whole life by his first name. “I’m not sure I follow. I just committed treason and-”

“I’d view it more like taking out the trash.” Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Alex looks like he wants to spit, “Your father was... dedicated, to the cause. However, there are some sins that simply can’t be overlooked.” His intense eyes meet yours.

“We didn’t know for certain until today how far his depravity went. I don’t ask you to forgive us for that, but as a father, I would never have let that…” He shakes his head, taking a deep drink.

“I’m sorry,” he looks to you confused. “About your daughter. About Jennifer.”

His face softens, “Thank you.” He sneers, “Your father-”

“Eric,” you correct him.

“Eric,” he nods, seeming to understand. “He said-”

“Let me guess, ‘Blood will out.’”

“Yes, as though it was a personal failing - her death.” You look away, disgusted. “But you are not him.” Your gaze shoots back to him.

“Miss-”

“Catherine,” you say smiling.

“Catherine. You are what we’ve waited so long for. A child of Hydra, fit to lead us into the new age.” Your eyes narrow. “You’ll be taking your - Eric’s seat.”

You can’t help but be shocked. Taking what should have been Jennifer’s seat had been enough of an upset, to take Eric’s… It would mean-

“It will be an honor to have you serve with me in the first seat.” The first seat, the head of The Council that governed Hydra, was always held as a joint position. “And it will be an even greater honor when you ascend even higher.”

“Higher?” There was no higher seat.

“In time.” Alex leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, looking up at you. “While Hydra has many heads it has always been in need of a strong body, one that will not easily bow to the weight of time or illness, one that has transcended so many of our meer human weaknesses. I believe that you were meant to be this body, Catherine.”

“I… I’m humbled,” you almost choke on the word. It was the right response though, judging by Alex’s smile.

“I will take that as you accepting,” he says it like you have a choice.

“Of course!” You force joy into your tone.

“Fantastic!” He stands, raising his glass. You join him. “To a bright future. Hail Hydra!”

“Hail Hydra,” you echo as your glasses clink together. The whiskey tastes like dust on your tongue.

“As I said, we want to give you some time to transition. However, we will need to move quickly to ensure things continue to run smoothly.”

“I completely understand. I shouldn’t need too much time.” You look around this office, a space you’d spent so much time, a space filled with so many terrible memories. “Mainly, I’ll need to… clean house.”

Alex gives a knowing nod, “Absolutely. You have full power to change and remove,” he holds your gaze for a moment, “whatever and whomever you see fit.”

“Thank you.” Your eyes settle on the soldier. That sense of conviction from earlier floods you again, the slightest rumblings of a very dangerous idea making their way around your mind.

“Also,” you stride to the bar cart and refill your drink, making a gesture to do the same for Alex. He accepts. “While I can no doubt protect myself, I will need some additional security to allow me to more fully focus on the needs of the organization. No doubt, there will be those who will see this ascension as overstepping on my part.”

“Unfortunately,” Alex concedes. “You can, of course, have any security detail Eric employed.” He catches your cocked brow, “Ah, yes. Well, you can have your choice of Hydra for your own detail.”

“I had a thought actually,” you take a sip before continuing. “I’d like The Soldier.” Alex looks from you to The Soldier, still standing in the same place he was when Alex had entered.

“The Soldier…” He says thoughtfully.

“Yes. I’d prefer to not have to doubt the integrity of my security detail, especially given the unique situation I’m finding myself in. Typically someone in this position would have had years to form their inner circle - I haven’t had such a luxury.”

“Of course,” you add, “he’d still be at the full disposal of Hydra should he be needed.”

Alex nods, “I see no problem with it. He’s housed under European jurisdiction as it is and you clearly have a steady command of him - no small feat I’ll have you know.”

“Lovely.”

“Any other immediate needs to make this an easier transition?” Alex asks sincerely.

“Just one,” you walk back to the chairs and sit. “The woman Eric was going to have killed. What was her crime?” Alex shifted, seeming a bit uncomfortable.

“She was a Brown Widow,” he began.

“A what?” You’d never heard of such a thing.

He purses his lips, “Of course, Eric wouldn’t tell you about the Brown Widows.” He sighs, “The Brown Widow program is a sister to the Black Widow program. Brown Widows are trained in much the same way, in fact, they begin in the Black Widow program before being hand-selected to be Brown Widows. They’re chosen for having a more… genteel temperament if you will. More suited to domesticity than your typical Black Widow graduate.”

A memory tingles in the back of your mind, just out of reach.

“Your mother was a Brown Widow.”

You wanted to marry a spider, your mother had spoken those words when she’d garroted Eric the night she died.

“Her death was not sanctioned, Catherine. I tried to push for an investigation-”

You shake your head, “It’s in the past.”

“She was a spectacular woman. Eric always had to have the best-”

“So the woman?” You don’t want to think about your mother anymore. Can’t bear the weight of knowing that she could have killed Eric at any time, could have run, but she didn’t… Because of you.

“Yes,” he clears his throat, “the woman from this evening, was a Brown Widow. She’d been assigned to a lower level associate. He was apparently… unpleasant.” You note that Alex won’t meet your eyes and suspect you know what kind of unpleasantness he means. “She may have removed a specific part of his anatomy in retaliation before fleeing.” You bite your lip to restrain a smile.

“Is she dead?”

“Not at all. We agreed with your decision. Some punishment should likely be metered but not what Eric had in mind.”

“I’d like to have her as my personal assistant.”

“Oh?”

“What better way to foster loyalty than saving someone’s life?”

Alex smiled, “Wise. I’ll have her sent up.”

“Thank you. I feel that puts me in a good position to get moving quickly.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Alex says finishing his drink and standing. He sets his glass on the side table and extends his hand once more.

“This couldn’t have been a better outcome, in my opinion, Catherine. You’re going to do incredible things. This is only the beginning.”

You take his hand, giving it a firm shake. “I couldn’t agree more, Alex. Thank you for the opportunity.”

“We will connect soon.”

“I look forward to it,” you open the door to let him out.

As soon as he is on the elevator you call out to Eric’s former secretary. “Anita, can you join me?” You don’t wait for an answer, instead, you turn back into the office to refill your drink and wait.

She enters a minute later, nervous energy rolling off of her. Her eyes grow wider by the second as she takes in your blood-soaked form leaning casually against Eric’s desk.

“Slackjawed isn’t a good look for you, Anita.” She snaps her jaw shut.

“W-What can I do for you Miss Cathe-”

“Madam Clayton will do.” Her eyes somehow manage to get wider, making her look like one of those popeyed pugs she doted on. “Will this arrangement be a problem for you?” The vile woman had served your father longer than you’d been alive.

“No, Madam Clayton, of course not.”

“Good. I need a change of clothes. One for The Soldier as well, and clothing for the woman being sent up - she should be about a size eight.”

“Yes, Maam.” She turns, her wiry frame trembling.

“Oh. One more thing, Anita.” She freezes, no doubt expecting something awful. “I want every bit of information on The Soldier. I’ll need all of this within the hour.” Nervously she eyes the statue-like man, you can hear her heartbeat rise.

“But, Madame Catherine… I… I don’t.”

“Anita?”

“Y-yes?” You hold her bulging eyes, staring her down until you knew she was about to break.

“My father wouldn’t tolerate excuses. Neither will I. Is that clear?”

“Of course,” she squeaks. “Yes, Maam.” With one last glance at The Soldier, she scurries from the room.

Rounding the desk you finish the rest of the entirely, and annoyingly, ineffective whiskey before plopping down hard in the desk chair. Looking across the room you see that The Soldier had recrossed his arms, eyes studying you with unnerving intensity.

A lifetime of violence had taught you how to scent it. Right now, it was beginning to crackle in the air.

He moved so quickly you almost missed it. Almost.

Your hand moves under the desk, gripping the Glock you knew would be waiting. As he went to vault the desk you push the chair back, rolling you toward the window and aim right between his eyes. He freezes, crouched on the desk, murder in his eyes.

“I am not your enemy,” you say softly, remaining seated.

“Hail Hydra,” he sneers. His hatred feels like a slap.

You release the gun, letting it dangle on your finger, from the trigger before you stand slowly, hands up, and place it on the desk before him. Leaning in so close you can feel his breath you return his hard stare.

“Fuck. Hydra,” you growl.

Never had you been grateful that this room was off the grid, Pierce had confirmed that earlier. Had they eyes or ears here they’d have known the things Eric had done to you. Even so… you didn’t dare say anything more.

It must have been enough because his mood shifts back to a skeptical neutral. Slowly he backs up, standing on the other side of the desk. Neither of you speak, you just stare, assessing if you were friend or foe until a buzz sounds from the phone on the desk.

“Yes?” You ask pressing the intercom button.

“I h-have the clothing you requested. The woman should be up soon.”

“And the information on The Soldier?”

“I’m getting it to-together now.” That tremulous little stammer was beginning to grate your nerves.

“Bring the clothes.”

One bag contained three pairs of black boots, practical though none of you would leave here in them. The other revealed three sets of black hoodies, caps, tees, and bluejeans. They’d do.

“Here,” you hold out the pile of clothes to him. He eyes them. “Look, even if you weren’t covered in blood you can’t go out on the street looking like Edward fucking Scissorhands.” Did they have a point in dressing the man like he was on his way to a cheap dungeon?

Finally, he takes them.

“You can use the bathroom,” you turn to pull your own clothes out. “Oh, and be sure to check them for-” He nods, turning for the bathroom. Clothing could easily conceal trackers and bugs - it was why the boots would remain here unused.

You meticulously check the clothes provided for you and the woman, pleased to find nothing suspicious. In the small closet where Eric kept a few changes of clothes, you find the trainers you were hoping for. They’d be far too large for either you or the woman but at least you knew they’d be clean.

Just as you pull the plain black tee over your head The Soldier walks out. His own tee stretches tight across his chest, the metal arm somehow seeming more alarming when paired with the plain clothes. Still, no one could deny that the man was a specimen.

Drawing your eyes away you pluck the card of hair elastics from the bag, handing one to him. “If you wanted to pull your hair back.” He takes it, his eyes landing on your throat.

“You still have,” he gestures to his own neck.

“Oh, right. If they come with the woman would you mind letting them in?” He says nothing. With a sigh, you duck into the bathroom to remove the lingering traces of blood.

You hear the door to the office open followed by a muffled cry of alarm. When you pop your head out of the bathroom the woman stands, still nude, in fighting form. Much more firey than when she was in the cell.

“Don’t fucking come near me,” she growls in an American accent. The Soldier stands several feet away, hands tucked into the pocket of his jeans, hair up in a low ponytail.

“He isn’t going to harm you,” you say stepping out. Though, you didn’t entirely know if that was true. He’d been ready to eviscerate you not a half-hour ago. The woman throws you a wild glare.

“I’m Catherine Clayton,” you grab the hoodie intended for The Soldier from the pile and toss it to her. Christ, they couldn’t even be bothered to give the woman a towel to cover herself with. It’s just long enough to cover her.

“I know what you are,” she spits. What. Not who.

“I highly doubt that.” The woman didn’t know the half of it. “Drink?” You ask nodding to the bar cart.

“So now I’m invited to drinks?” You can’t help but smile.

“In defense of my rudeness earlier, I truly thought I’d be dead or worse by now. Seeing as that’s not the case,” you shrug.

“Whiskey,” the woman says, stepping closer but still keeping a wary eye on The Soldier.

You pour her a glass and look to The Soldier, “And you?” He simply glares and turns to resume a vigil by the door.

Surprisingly she sniffs the glass only once and downs it all in one go before you take a drink. You raise a brow and reach for the glass to refill it.

She shrugs, “If I’m going to go out there are worse ways than poisoned whiskey.”

“I’ll drink to that.” You gesture for her to have a seat. She eyes eye chair and simply leans against it, you don’t miss the slight spark of defiance in her chestnut eyes.

Rather than sit in a chair yourself you hop onto the desktop, facing her, and wait for her to ask the question.

“What do you want from me?”

“I’d like to offer you a job.” She looks at you disbelieving.

“A job.” You nod. “I’m not sure if you’ve seen my resume lately, but I didn’t exactly leave my last position on amicable terms.”

“I’m well aware. In fact, it’s what made you a prime candidate for the position.” She studies you as you continue. “I’m not looking for someone loyal to the cause. I need someone loyal to me.” You can see the flames of curiosity begin to rise.

“And what does loyalty to you look like?” She asks before taking a sip of her whiskey.

“Details will come in time. But, from what I hear of you, I feel our intentions may align nicely.”

Finally, she pushes away from the chair and steps closer, “Fuck it. I’m in.” You hadn’t expected it to be so easy. Your skepticism must show.

“Look, I’d rather answer to a woman than another mouth breathing wanna be Mussolini. And,” her stare intensifies, “anyone with the spine to put down that monster like you did today is pretty good in my book.”

She extends her right hand. Smiling you hop off the desk and take it.

“I’m Mara.”

“Pleasure.”

“So,” you release your shake and she finishes her drink, “what do ya need from me boss?”

“On paper, you’ll be my personal assistant.”

“And off the books?”

“We’ll get to that.” You nod to the clothes, “For now go ahead and get changed. That hoodie is his.” Tension visibly rolls over her.

Without another word, she grabs the clothes and disappears into the bathroom. A moment later the intercom buzzes. You press the button but say nothing.

“Ma-Madam Clayton, I have the f-files on The Soldier you requested.”

“Good. Before you bring them, how much cash do we have on hand?”

“Oh, I can provide you with the ca-”

“I asked a clear question, Anita.” You’d all need a place to stay until you could get your private finances sorted. With Eric gone it should be easier to do so, especially since you’d spent the last three years building a stockpile even Hydra couldn’t trace. Still, for the next few nights you all needed a safe - or at least safe enough - place and using a card would let Hydra know exactly where you were.

“Yes, so-sorry Madam. We have over one hundred thousand-”

“Bring me forty of it along with the files.” You shut the intercom off and wait for the tentative knock.

It comes as Mara steps out of the bathroom. She eyes The Soldier as he opens the door and warily drapes his hoodie over the wingback before standing beside you.

Anita, carrying two banker boxes stacked beneath her chin stumbles in. The Soldier catches her by the shoulder before she topples, causing her to freeze until she catches sight of Mara. Her expression shifts from shock to indignation.

She pulls away from The Soldier’s grip, blustering to the small table sitting between the wingback chairs. Straightening her dowdy blouse she plucks a thick envelope from the top.

“The files and money, Madam Catherine.” She shoots Mara a filthy glare. Mara responds with a fox-like grin that further flusters the older woman.

“Madam,” she clips out in a nasal tone as you pull the money out.

“That will be all, Anita,” you don’t even look up at her as you ensure the bills are all there and authentic.

“Madam,” she says again. Slowly you raise your eyes to meet her pathetic attempt at a confident glare. “This-this, woman,” she spits. “She’s to be disposed of! Your father wanted-” The rest of her words are lost in a garbled scream, your grip on her throat trapping the sound.

For a split second, you’re a bit disoriented by the speed at which you moved, so much so that you almost squeeze too tight. With effort, you relax your grip. This was not her time to die.

“Anita,” you purr, “who’s blood do you suppose that was earlier?”

“Mr-Mr. Clayton,” she manages to eke out.

“That’s right!” You say in a tone one may take with a child. “And knowing that, do you suppose I give one holy fuck about anything that beast wanted?” You stare into her bulging eyes, watch her pasty skin burn red with fear and shame - both tasted so sweet. How many times had she turned a blind eye…

She shakes her head.

“Good,” you toss her to the ground. She rolls onto all fours, gasping for air as she crawls away to put distance between you.

“Oh, and Anita,” her whole body goes rigid. “If you ever bring him up again, I’ll do things to you that would make the Devil himself cringe. Do we have an understanding?”

She nods.

“Excellent. That is all, Anita.” She manages to rise to her feet, though her body remained deeply bowed as she scuttled out the door.

You could feel the eyes of the others on you.

“Does anyone here have a problem with how that was handled?” You ask. The Soldier simply looks at you with narrow eyes.

“Not me.” Mara hops onto the desk. One out of two was good enough.

“Here,” you tuck a wad of bills into your pocket and hand her the envelope. “That’s thirty thousand pounds. It should be more than enough to get us ensconced in a good hotel. I’d prefer a penthouse, two bedrooms, with clear sightlines to the roofs of the surrounding buildings. But mainly something as private as possible.” She nods. “Book a room for yourself as well.”

You cross to one of the bookshelves, giving the bottom a swift kick. The old mechanism groaned as it slid open to reveal a small closet filled with an arsenal.

“Help yourselves.”

“Nice,” Mara comments with sparkling eyes. The Soldier doesn’t make a move.

“There’s another elevator in there,” you tell her. “It will take you to the street.”

“Where should we rendezvous?”

“French House,” it would be easy enough for you and The Soldier to disappear into the ever-crowded pub.

“Got it,” she slips a gun into her waistband. “Shoes?”

“Oh!” You kick off your blood-spattered black trainers. “Take these. I found another clean pair.”

“See you soon!” Mara tosses over her shoulder as the elevator closes.

Within two hours you’re walking into the Dome penthouse over The Hotel Cafe Royal. The terrace overlooked the London skyline and provided an easy escape should it be necessary.

“I have to admit, Mara. I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be,” she kicks off your old trainers, slipping into a new pair. “Money talks, so it wasn’t exactly difficult.” You look out one of the curved windows to the terrace.

“What now?” She asks from behind you.

“Now,” you sigh, “rest.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Order food to your room, have a soak, get drunk. Whatever you need.” You don’t mistake the relief that floods her face. “I’ll ring you tomorrow,” you hold up the burner phone that matched her own.

“Ok,” she sighs.

“Thank you, Mara.”

“For what?”

“For trusting me this far.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” she says with a wink. The Soldier reenters the living room and she studies him. “Be careful.”

You nod, “Goodnight.” With that, she leaves.

“I’m taking a bath,” you say to him. “I assume you chose your room?” His brows knit, a bit confused.

“There are two additional bedrooms, what did you think I was going to have you do? Stand at attention all night?” His cold glare is enough of an answer. “Pick a room. Order food. Do whatever you want.” You turn on your heel and stalk toward the bathroom.

You sink under the scalding water, hoping it will help clear your mind, allow the fragments of a plan that had been ricocheting around in your skull become something solid and tangible. Instead... it reminds you of the hot slick feeling of Eric’s blood.

Gasping for air, you fling yourself from the tub, sending the small table of neatly stacked towels flying into the wall. With no small effort, you force your eyes open, half expecting to see your whole body coated in the thick red substance.

There’s nothing. Of course, there was nothing. Nothing besides The Soldier, standing in the entrance, concern coloring his features.

“I’m fine,” you huff, cheeks burning a bit from embarrassment. “A little privacy?” He seems to flush a bit himself and heads wordlessly from the room.

A shower was clearly the best option.

You wrap yourself in a plush robe before stepping from the bathroom, expecting to see the soldier in the living room. But he wasn’t there.

No matter. You head onto the terrace, taking in the spectacular view and relishing the cold night air on your damp skin.

Now clarity comes.

You hear the rustle of someone behind you, the slightest hum of gears indicating that it was The Soldier.

“I’m going to burn it all down.” The words feel electric on your tongue. “All of Hydra.”

Your mother was wrong. You were not more than this, more than them.

She was also wrong about evil. Sometimes the only thing strong enough to defeat it was an equal…

Your father had made you such an equal. Honed you into a weapon, something as dark and deadly as Hydra itself. Being bred in the belly of that beast you knew its anatomy, its every weak spot, every flaw.

They wanted to make you the body. Instead, you’d be a cancer, consuming the beast from the inside out.

You turn to him, “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

His intense eyes seem to sparkle and a slight smile curls his lips.

“Not at all.”

Relief surges through your body. You knew what you wanted to accomplish was an olympian task and without the strength and fear The Soldier afforded you - well it would have become a near-impossible one.

A knock draws both your attention.

“I ordered food,” he says beginning to turn away. “For both of us.”

The gesture catches you so off guard that it renders you immobile for a moment. When you finally make it inside he’s moving the boxes filled with information on him to the ground to clear the table for food.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I ordered several things.” The cart was stacked to bursting and the smells rising from it made your mouth water. But there on the bottom, a familiar package catches your eye.

Chocolate digestive biscuits. The same kind you shared with him on that night so long ago. Silently you bend to retrieve them, looking from the biscuits to him a couple of times before speaking.

“You do remember.” He nods. Confusion roils, “Then why did you charge me earlier if-”

“People change.” He pulls the cover off of a trey revealing a cheeseburger and fries and moves it to the table. You think he’ll say more but, instead, he starts eating. The growling of your stomach convinces you to not press the subject and instead locate the curry you can scent hiding under one of those covered trays.

Honestly, you’d never felt this hungry. You tear through the red curry and move on to another tray, this one housing a second burger and fries. It’s not until you’re done with that and are nibbling on a poor excuse for pizza that you actually slow.

“I guess I was hungrier than I thought.”

He smiles a bit, taking a slice of the pizza, “I think it’s the serum. I’m always hungry.”

You study him for a moment, “Any other insights on that front?”

He shrugs, “Things can be overwhelming,” he clears his throat, “sensations. Even your own body can seem too loud. You feel… more. Everything’s dialed up so you may be stronger, harder to kill, but it doesn’t mean shit hurts less.” That was actually very good information. “I’m sure there’s plenty of information in those boxes.” You don’t miss the bitter edge in his voice.

Silence hangs thick for a bit until he asks, “Did you choose this?”

“Choose what?” You meet his intense gaze.

“The serum. Did you let them do this to you?”

“Do you think my bastard father would have let me choose something like this?” You scoff. Anger flares in your chest, “No.” You push away from the table and begin to pace.

“I was simply informed that whatever life I thought I could build for myself was over. That I had to, yet again, prove myself worthy of something I never wanted and never asked for. That I had better not, disappoint.” You feel your body start to shake, “Because even my death, death at their hands, would have been a disgrace.”

“I got milk too,” he says behind you.

“What?” The statement seemed absurd until you turned to see him pouring two glasses, the biscuits on the table. Somehow the sight tamps down the flame of your rage.

“Oh,” you collapse on the couch, hiding your face in your hands. Maybe emotions, like sensations, were dialed up because you couldn’t seem to get a hold of yours.

“I’m sorry,” his voice comes from closer than you expect. Looking up you see him kneeling before you, worry etched across his face, a lock of hair falling from his ponytail.

“I didn’t… I should have…” He seems to struggle to find the words suddenly. “I don’t have space to speak freely… ever. And I-”

“You’re free. Or as free as I can make you.” You couldn’t truly grant him freedom that you yourself didn’t possess, but you hoped it was something. The emotion that shows in his eyes is beyond words but it makes your chest constrict all the same.

“Thank you,” his voice cracks a bit at the end and he quickly stands.

For the next hour, you both burn through the biscuits in comfortable silence. Once they’re gone you slump back into the deep cushions of the couch, exhaustion crashing over you.

“I could sleep for three days.” You wished. Sleep and you had a tense relationship at best.

“You should rest.” He says.

Sighing you nod and stand, turning toward the master suite attached to the living room.

“Actually,” he begins. You look back.

“Yes?”

“You should probably take one of the back rooms. Less direct access from the terrace.” He had a point, there were no actual doors to the master bed or bathroom, just an open space cut up with walls that didn’t quite reach the high ceiling and the terrace wrapped around almost the entire suite.

“I’ll take whichever. Lead the way.” You hadn’t really inspected the other rooms.

He guides you to the one furthest from the entry assuring you that he’ll hear anyone who comes.

“You’ll be safe,” he says, reminding you of the vigil he kept for you years ago - protecting you from the monster in your own home. You nod, in acceptance and open the door.

“One thing,” you turn to him. “What you did back there, to Eric. Was that because I-“

“I did it for both of us.” You don’t think you imagine the slight spark of satisfaction in his expression.

“Goodnight, Catherine.”

“Goodnight.” You realize suddenly that you don’t know his name, he never offered it, and knowing what little you did about him you wondered if he even knew…

That would be the first thing you’d find in those files tomorrow. You couldn’t give him true freedom, not yet, but you could damn well give him his name back.

---

TAGS: @mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4 @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @buckysstar @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @siriuslycloudy2 @wildmoonflower @cutie1365 @this-kitten-is-smitten @nighttwingg @handplucked @jewelofwinter @whiskeywinter89 @damnaged-princess @the7intheimpala @saaamsayshi @7minutes-tomidnight @amorluzymelodia @auroraluna777 @leniaana @awkwardlyhot @ilovespideyyy @jaxthebookworm @docharleythegeekqueen @olympos-92

NOTE: Why does The Soldier remember her? Given what we know about him I feel like that may be one of the biggest (most frustrating) questions at the end of this so I just want to share that you’ll get the answer in the next chapter.

#the winter solider x reader #bucky x reader #winter solider x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dark fic #the winter soldier

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imsuchmarveltrash · 3 years

Text

Revolutionary (A Stucky x Reader Imagine) - inspired by Badlands by Halsey [PROLOGUE + Chapter One]

“Hello, and I’m sorry: a salutation and a farewell. I don’t have much time. This Times New Roman is gonna fly through my fingertips, like a plague of moths. The hollow black-letter shells crunched into the ground, like the skin of a cicada. And you can do whatever you want with it–keep it to yourself, or let it serve as a warning.

“This city is disgusting; a corpse of what it used to be. The people are filthy, gluttonous: ruled by the power exchange of sex from the hands of the proletariat to the bourgeoisie. The tops of the skylines buzz with the lacklustre enthusiasm. The ground level is caked in dirt and rust and grime, and the people that dwell there awake and rub the filmy layer off their lukewarm eyes.

“There are some here I love, some who fear me, and some who wish I was dead. I didn’t ask for this. No one asks for this. You’re born into it. You grow up oblivious and sheltered, and one day the evil realities of this place hit you square between the eyes, like a perfectly aimed bullet. If this were a movie, I would ride off in some blood red sunset, down a stretch of desert road, into the wasteland that keeps us captive here. But this isn’t a movie. These are the Badlands.”

-Halsey

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DWCOW7TaGQE

Chapter One: Castle

These were the Badlands. A singular long-forgotten city that existed leagues away from any other known civilisation. No one knew what happened to the rest of the world, just that as far as your eye could see, all that remained was a stretch of desert wasteland, seemingly endless. The city itself was completely dystopian: a dilapidated ground level filled with squalor and people living in misery. They were referred to as The Proletariat–the 99% that was forced to live off the scraps the government could barely care to provide. That other 1% was what you called the Bourgeoisie. They were the richest of the rich, living lives of excess and gluttony. Yet, the superfluity could never hide the emptiness that never wavered from their dull eyes.

The government could barely care for order. They’d passed few rules of society and as long as they weren’t broken there were never any issues. These rules were:

1. The Badlands are what’s left of society, you may never leave.

2. There is a clear line between Proletariat and Bourgeoisie. You cannot cross it. Be exiled if you dare.

3. Relations between the Proletariat and Bourgeoisie are taboo. People who break this rule will be outcasted.

The government’s biggest concern was keeping the Proletariat separate from the Bourgeoisie. Naturally, people had their ways of bypassing the rules. They met in secret, spoke in codes. That was how you’d become part of an underground circle that believed in equal treatment of all people. The government only acted to keep the people they liked happy. The needs of the rest of the city were never prioritised. The group you belonged to wanted change.

You were a small group–barely over fifteen people. Consisting of people mostly part of the Proletariat, there were few Bourgeoisie members. These included Tony Stark, Natalia Romanova (better referred to as Natasha Romanoff), Loki Laufeyson, and Nicholas J. Fury.

The mastermind that was Tony Stark remained a mystery to you. The government adored him. A descendant of Howard Stark, the man responsible for the city surviving, Tony had both privilege and the weight of rather large shoes to fill. Yet, Tony was treated as royalty, but he couldn’t care less for the system the government had in place. He’d seen too many people dying in the streets to be able to continue turning a blind eye. Soon after embracing his dissatisfaction, he’d met you, and the two of you formed a pact, vowing to make a difference.

Natasha was a beauty born straight into the government. She’d seen what they were doing and had been appalled. Unlike the rest of society, Natasha didn’t grow up sheltered. Her parents were government agents who helped enforce the ruling system. They wanted her to grow up to be just like them, so the system was her harsh reality from the start.

Loki was the most reluctant of the Bourgeoisie members in the group. He enjoyed his life of luxury and liked being able to have the entire city at his fingertips. He just couldn’t take the injustice anymore. Not after his brother, Thor, renounced his position within the Bourgeoisie to be exiled to a low-class Proletarian lifestyle.

Nicholas Fury had stumbled into your group by chance, but it was a chance you were all thankful for. He was the right-hand man to Alexander Pierce, the leader of the government’s schema. His desire for equality along with his pull within the government, made him an integral part of your circle.

The Proletariat members consisted of you, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Thor Odinson, Peter Parker, Clint Barton, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, Bruce Banner, Vision, James Rhodes, and Maria Hill.

You, Steve and Bucky had grown up together. Growing from friends in your youth to something so intricate yet indescribable as the three of you got older. They were your closest confidants and gave you both everything you wanted and needed. Relationships and labels didn’t exist within the Badlands, so you could exist freely with your boys. The three of you had made a pact to follow each other to the end of the line, even if that meant that they were following your lead through this revolution.

Thor Odinson joined shortly before his brother Loki. He’d been a member of high society but had a good heart. He’d spend a lot of his money trying to help those he could within the Proletariat in whichever way he could. This made him highly unfavoured with the government, so they propositioned him. He could either stop helping the Proletariat or be stripped of his wealth and become one of them. The convoluted system somehow gave the government the rights to do that. So, Thor chose to rather be a part of the Proletariat.

Peter Parker was your youngest member. He had a brilliant mind and, together with Maria Hill and Wanda Maximoff, had found a way to hack all of the government systems. There was no special reason for any of them being in your circle, they were only tired of living in squalor.

James “Rhodey” Rhodes and Pietro Maximoff also only joined for the cause. Rhodey because of Maria, and Pietro because of his sister. They were both strong fighters, which you knew you’d need to win this war, so you accepted the both of them gladly.

Bruce and Vision were two of the most intelligent men you’d ever known. They both had a passion for knowledge and, unfortunately, being born into the Proletariat didn’t allow them much access to it. Yet, with what they had, they somehow managed to be incredible at developing the weapons and tools that would be needed to power this revolution. Vision was spectacular with raw materials, having the skill to rival even the most qualified mechanical engineer, whereas Bruce was the Proletariat leading expert in chemical and biological weaponry.

Lastly, Clint Barton probably had the biggest vendetta out of anyone in your circle. Like Thor, he was exiled from the Bourgeoisie. What hurt him the most was that he’d lost his position because of falling in love and the government stripped him from his choice in the matter. Instead, they took his wife, Laura, only minutes after they’d gotten their marriage licence signed in secret. They took her to a government facility, never to be seen again, and had outcasted Clint to be a Proletarian. Knowing the cruelty of the government, he worried for Laura’s life and all that pain changed him, hardened him into the man he is now.

You were chosen as your circle’s leader not only because of founding the group with Tony and your elaborate mind for strategy, but you all knew that the city would need a Proletariat leader after you overthrew the government. You weren’t self-elected. The group all believed in you. They knew that, mentally, you were the strongest and would be the best person to lead them both through the overthrow of the government and the change in the future. These may have been the Badlands, but this was your revolution.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers au #steve x reader #steve rogers series #reader insert #bucky barnes angst #steve rogers angst

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layniapetrovnaaa · 4 years

Text

Rules for requesting/who I write for:

**Rules:**

Try to be as specific as possible, if not that’s fine but I really appreciate it cause it makes my life easier.

Please be respectful.

No incest or M/M (I’m sorry).

I will usually try to keep reader gender neutral (but sometimes i don’t idk) unless specified other wise, or if it is smut or something like that.

If I don’t answer within 48 hours, send the request in again

If you want to request something for someone who is not on the list ask me first.

Crossed out means that I am not currently writing for that person.

That’s it! Please request, it genuinely makes my day. If you wanna check out some of my work, I’m LayniaPetrovna on Wattpad (fair warning, they are a bit cringey)

Who I write for:

Entire Fandoms-

(Platonic and some romantic)

LOST

Marvel

Star Wars (not prequels)

To Kill A Mockingbird

Friends

Parks & Rec

The Office

Narcos

Ships-

(I’ve never written for ships before)

Fleabag x Hot Priest

Jim Halpert x Karen Filippelli

Bucky Barnes x Natalia Romanova

Celebrities-

Hugh Jackman (and all characters)

Jake Gyllenhaal (and all characters)

Chris Evans (and all characters)

Robert Downey Jr (and all characters)

Scarlett Johansson (and all characters)

Characters-

Chandler Bing

Jim Halpert

Karen Filippelli

Rue Bennett

Peter Parker

Detective Loki

Lou Bloom

Donnie Darko

Kevin Wendell Crumb

Charles Xavier

Yelena Belova

Alexander Halmiton

Ben Florian

Atticus Finch

Uncle Jack Finch

Frank Sheeran

Bill Denbrough (2019)

Diana Prince

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Sirius Black (Gary Oldman)

Remus Lupin (David Thewlis)

Nymphadora Tonks

Din Djarin

Maxwell Lord

Javier Peña

Frankie Morales

Dave York

Marcus Moreno

Hans Solo

Arvin Russell

Klaus Hargreeves

Young and Old Five Hargreeves (platonic only, maybe some flirting)

Diego Hargreeves

Vanya Hargreeves

Allison Hargreeves

Marty McFly

Ben Miller (triple frontier)

Santiago Garcia (triple frontier)

Will Miller (triple frontier)

Poe Dameron

Sodapop Curtis

Ann Perkins

April Ludgate

Chris Traeger

Loki Laufeyson

Agent Mobius

Bucky Barnes (tfatws)

(Again if I remember anymore I will add them.)

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alri-xo · 4 years

Text

Ship of Dreams (Titanic 1997 AU) | Chapter 2

Gif not mine.

A/N: Hi guuuuys so like this is chapter 2... Took me a long time to make this because this week has been a pretty rough for me personally and I genuinely feel like I needed to edit this chapter so much to deliver all the feels and stuff... Hopefully...

Pairing: Alexander Pierce x Reader, Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier) x Reader

Warnings: Again, age gap, language, rich people being rich people...

The Titanic finally hit more vast waters, gliding through the sea as it head out farther from land.

Bucky and Steve ran down the corridor, the enamel white walls serving a backdrop for the people cramming its sides as they tried to find their way inside.

They weaved through the people to find their quarters, they passed by many people of many walks of life. Like a Chinese man holding probably an English to Chinese dictionary to figure out what the writings meant, children getting lost and the like.

They finally found their room, its painted door looks welcoming, at least to people like them.

"This is it, Steve..." Bucky says as he opens the door, Steve following right behind him as he places his stuff on the top bed of the double decker laughing, "Who says you take top bunk?"

The two other men looked at them, as they didn't look like the original booked passengers. The chocolate man shocked as he looked up from his book and the other leaned against the steel framing of the double-decker.

Bucky neared to the man reading the book and shook his hand, as his face also painted a shook expression, "James Barnes... People call me Bucky..." he greets. He just remained silent as he his eyes gawked at him, then to his friend.

"Where the hell is Ivan?"

💎

In contrast, Y/N was at first class and not just any first class part of the ship. The grandest suite of the ship.

It had the most ornate wood carvings painted in gold at the sitting room, a wide bedroom, and it had a curtained canopy with red velvet and gold tassels, and it had a place for lounging and eating, overlooking the ocean and the sun striping light onto the furnishings and plants, serving up a tropical vibe.

They set their multitude of luggage to get settled in their temporary home. Y/N had an eye for the arts. Paintings of different mediums littered the room waiting to be hanged... Paintings by Monet and Picasso were there, as Alexander thought they were a waste of money.

Y/N rolled her eyes and she entered her room with their maid and her only friend, Carol... She has known Y/N for a good year now, but they have grown to be very close.

She made Y/N feel like a normal girl with real feelings, and not a girl wearing money for show like her mother is.

She helped Y/N ready her quarters, boxes of jewelry and even larger boxes of garments are to be organized. Upon entrance with her friend and mistress, the scent of fresh paint and a new matress fills her nose.

"It smells so brand new... It's as if they made it just for us..." she chirps happily to Y/N, making her smile, "Tonight, when I crawl into the sheets, I'll be the first!"

Y/N smiles bigger looking at her, but it only lasts for a moment. Alexander is at the doorway, looking at her like she's but prize that he won, "And tonight, when I crawl in the sheets, I'll still be the first."

Carol goes cold in fear, as she knows what Alexander can be to Y/N. She is no stranger to his passive aggressive behavior towards her or Y/N. She turns on her heel, "S'cuse me, miss..."

It's now the two of them in Y/N's room... Y/N turns her back to him as she faces the mirror as seeing him draw nearer to her.

He hugs her from behind, but her expression is bleak, "The first and only... Forever..."

All she could think of was her life. Her future with this man she doesn't even know well, claiming her as his because of her mother's terms. Also, a man twice or maybe triple her age?

His scent of cigarette and faint alcohol filled her nose as he kissed behind her ear and on her shoulder. She kissed his cheek back reluctantly, to show her devotion. Empty devotion.

💎

Reader's Point of View

Me and mother decided to explore more of the ship, as Alexander insisted. However, where ever she went she had something to say.

It was close to dusk, but a person like me rarely make the sunset grace my vision... Mother forbid it, saying I have more important things to do... And... Staring out into the open, admiring the view is not what a good wife is.

We went down the elevator to the entrance of first class, the reception area with prominent people that my mother and I know.

They know me, but I don't really care as much as she does.

A woman comes in to the entrance, a suitcase in hand, "Well, I wasn't about to wait all day for you, sonny... Now, do a lady a favor and carry those for me, please..." she asks politely, the feathers on her hat dancing in the air as she moved.

She gave mother a small smile, and mother reciprocated one... One for show... However, mother envied this woman for her looks and undeniably beautiful figure.

No corset can imitate the curves she had... Even if mother had a corset made by the finest corset maker. Nothing.

She is Natalia Romanoff, but people call her Natasha or simply, Nat. She came from a poor background, but struck luck some place west. She was someone mother called 'new money.'

We set off after our last stop, with nothing in front of us but ocean. The ship was unstoppable at this point... Neither is that wedding.

💎

Third Person Point of View

The creamy glow of the afternoon filters on the grand ship. Every bit of floor illuminated by the setting sun. Bucky and Steve made their way out of their quarters and out to the open deck, as they looked over the rails that kept them safe in the ship.

Bucky looked down at the ocean. The glassy blue sheets splitting in two as the ship glided across like a fine blade.

The captain of the ship smiled. His beard full and his hair neat under his hat, blue eyes as blue as the ocean he driving on.

He turned to his companion of dark hair, slicked back as his blue eyes as crystal clear as the water that hits the shoreline.

"Take her to sea, Loki... Open her up..." he says as his companion nods and obliges.

"Yes, Thor... And may I remind you, Captain..." he begins emphasizing the title, "You should stir her not me..." he chuckles.

Thor rolls his eyes playfully at his brother, watching him leave then watching the sunset glow in front of him.

Below the decks however, work is being robust. Men covered in soot as the doors blazed bright flames as they added more to make the ship pick up.

The shipbuilder watches the engineers and greasers work their magic, seeing everything move accordingly and how he wanted it. He built the beauty they are working in and he is proud of it, it's exactly what he wanted.

The propellers under water pick up pace as more energy was introduced to the ship. They chopped through the water making it glide faster.

On the deck, Bucky's hair was blown by the wind, the scent of fresh air and sea filling his lungs as a big smile on his face appeared. Steve was holding on to his hat as he looked into the horizon.

Captain Thor Odinson looks at the same view, as if feeling triumphant and free. The massive ship his steed as his brother looked through the glass as they rode above the deep sea.

Steve smiles, looking at the water and asking Bucky to do the same, they spot two dolphins running with the ship. Their forms going up and down, above and under the sea as a pod of dolphins appear near the front of the ship.

Steve then stares through the horizon, the sunsparkles on the ocean beam warm light like gold under the slow setting sun.

"I can see the Statue of Liberty from here..." he grins happily as the wind in his face blows, "Very small, of course..."

Bucky smiles back then stands higher near the hand rails that keep them prisoner in such paradise, "I'M THE KING OF THE WOOORLD!!!"

💎

Reader's Point of View

The next day came like a fast turning of a page. My first night in the ship was pleasant, as if the waves rocked me back and forth on its calm waters. The scent of everything new made it feel even nice, knowing that all of it can be as comfortable as can be for me.

We were having a meal with two of the people who are the most important passengers of the ship. Tony Stark, the person who named the ship RMS Titanic, the ship builder, Bruce Banner.

They collaborated, Mr. Stark had the vision and Mr. Banner did the mission to make the Titanic into a reality.

"She's the largest moving object made by the hand of man in all of history..." Mr. Stark begins to say, "And our master ship builder, Mr. Banner here, designed her from the keel plates up."

He looked down and smiled shyly, not wanting the attention, "Well, I might have built her, but it was Mr. Stark's idea... He envisioned a steamer so grand in scale and so luxurious in its appointments that its supremacy will never be challenged... And here she is..." he says slapping the table proudly, "willed into solid reality."

Natasha looked at the two other men and cocked her brow "Why are ships always being called 'she'?" She asks jokingly, "Is it because men think half the women around have bigs sterns and should be weighed in tonnage?"

I smiled as they laughed, mother being quite amused of Natasha's words, "Just another example of men setting the words their way..."'

Admittedly, Natasha is witty and fun, but she is not everyone's cup of tea. Especially with my mother and her group of friends.

The waiter approached our table and thankfully, he had matches. I lit my cigarette and placed the thin end of its holder, savoring the smoke down my throat.

"You know I don't like that, Y/N..." my mother tuts quietly, making me look at her and glare. I blow smoke as she backed away slowly.

"She knows..." Alexander mumbled, taking away the cigarette and stubbing it out on the ash tray, as he said our orders. What he wants, I'll also get. As if I had a choice sometimes.

"So, you're gonna cut the meat for her too, Alexander?" Natasha asks smirking.

Alexander ignored her question, turning to the other men at the table and at my mother. In all honesty it might be the only thing that is left for him to do to me at this point.

They discussed about why the Titanic was named as such, being synonymous with everything that is big and grand, but secure and safe. Me being bookish and a person who is as educated as everyone on this table, it made me want to bring up something big.

"Do you know about Dr. Freud? His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of interest to you, Mr. Stark..."

Mr. Banner choked on his meal, holding back a laugh and it made mother glare at me.

"Y/N what has gotten into you-" I cut mother off as soon as she heard my chair creak on the floor.

"Excuse me..." I muttered as I walked away and out.

Natasha's Point of View

Well, that was rough.

Katherine's eyes widened, mortified by her daughter's actions. Definitely not what a mother wants to see in a daughter like Y/N.

At least for Katherine.

Also, as a wife for a man such as Alexander is such a leap. She seriously could've gotten any man for her daughter. Someone her age, perhaps? Not someone who could possibly be dead after the wedding night...

Oh, I'm just teasing...

"Seems like you got a pistol in your hands, Pierce... Think you can handle her?" I asked nonchalantly... It is reality what I'm saying... Since when did I fake it like the other women on first class?

"I guess I should mind what she's reading from now on..." he grins half heartedly as she follows Y/N out.

Jolly good show... Jolly good show indeed.

💎

Bucky's Point of View

"Look, daddy... Look at the birds!" The little girl says happily looking at the seagulls flying above the ocean, her father supports behind her as she is seated on the metal railing.

The energy they give off reflects on my ongoing sketch. Innocence and certainty, wisdom and care. A different aura from what I used to draw while I was some place else.

Steve looks over my shoulder, seeing what I have came up with and gave me an appreciative nod. He taught me how to draw and sketch, and now I am as hooked to drawing as he is.

Our two roommates hung out with us breathing the fresh air and the scent of the ocean. The bliss stopped when we heard the scent of dog poop in the air.

We looked up to see that the ship staff brought the dogs from first class to take a shit on the deck for third class, and with one of them having the most wrinkled face it would pass as something not of this earth.

"That's totally normal here... First class dogs come down here to take a shit..." One of them says, making me and Steve laugh a little...

"Yeah... Tops the scent of the room next to ours every night..." his friend says making him laugh, "Well, maybe the stink of the money they all have too..."

The guy from the staff glared at him, making them stop laughing as he left with the dogs.

I shrugged, "That's when we know where we rank in the scheme of things..." and Steve nods in agreement.

Then silence filled the air for a moment, the sound of the water and the squawking of seagulls in the horizon was our music.

"I'm Sam Wilson... This is my friend, Peter Parker..." he says stretching out his hand to shake mine and I shake his.

"James Barnes... Bucky for short..." I greet back, but his face paints curiosity, "Short for Buchanan..."

"Steve Rogers..." Steve greets as he exchanges handshakes with Sam and Peter, as I focus back to my drawing, the final strokes left.

I close my leather sketch pad and slip my pencil inside of it with a sigh. Surely, this ship is a work of art as everyone says it is... It's no lie...

I looked up to look around and I see her. Oh, she's an angel....

Who looks like that amongst all the people here? She's made by the gods.

She glowed under the sun, her dress shines and ripples in the wind. The silk on her skin hugging every curve and edge she had perfectly as her eyes looked over the railing.

Her cheeks flush as the heat made them redden, sun kissed. Her (y/h/c) hair in a neat updo with tendrils romantically falling freely framed her gentle face.

She looked at me, her (y/e/c) eyes sparkling and dolly, but expressive with a sense of distress for someone who had the world wrapped around her finger. Then she looked away again at the horizon.

Then all of a sudden, an older man approaches her... Her father, perhaps? Then he wraps his arms around her, but she tries to push him away.

Oh, he's her lover... But, they bicker a little as the man continues to try and persuade her.

I wish I could've looked at her longer. I was, but I wish she could've looked at me just as long.

"Oh forget it, Barnes... You'd rather have angels fly out your ass to be next to the likes of her..." he says making Peter and Steve laugh. I ignore them as I focused on the lady at first class, now storming back inside to her little world to live her little life as a first class passenger...

When will I ever see her again?

<- Previous | Next ->

A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter and I do apologize that it's long with no page break. Once again, I hope I did this justice and I hope y'all stay safe. ily

-Alri

Taggies 💕 (DROP ME AN ASK IF YOU WANT IN)

@witchymegg @amisutcliff @luna4501 @likeit-or-leaveit @underworldqueen13 @theaussiedragon @vhsbarnes @uglipotata72829

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100kindsofblake · 5 years

Text

Etiquette

Part 1: Introduction

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Keeping it classy is your thing, your friends live their lives just a little differently.

Word Count: 1,835

Warnings: Cursing, bodily harm, suicide attempt, mention on suicide, depression, and PTSD. Please let me know if I miss anything!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

—

Some call you spoiled, conceited, a brat, hell even egotistical. You wouldn’t necessarily use those words to describe yourself but whatever works. You like the term self-made but you could care less what others say.

It might be the way you carry yourself, posture at a T, head held straight and high, and your walk is always with grace.

Your appearance is always perfect, never a hair out of place. Always in heels, Louis Vuitton, Alexander Wang, Prada, Jimmy Choo, anything you can think of. Clothes tailored to fit just right and bring out your body in just right.

You are a world-renowned neurosurgeon, best there is in the world! Head chair of Neuro at Grady Hospital in Atlanta, Georgia. 4 doctoral degrees, 2 masters, and a bachelor. You can speak over 14 languages, certified in hand-to-hand combat, Jiu-Jitsu, Judo, Thai, and a certified black belt. You own a 12 bedroom, 12 full baths, 3 half bath, gym, pool, movie theater, huge living room and kitchen, 15 acres, 3 car garage with 3 very expensive cars to go in them. The house is solar powered, energy efficient, and with a smart home and highly intelligent security system to go with it. To sum up, you are indeed the shit.

Let's get one thing straight though, in no way were you narcissistic. You are a selfless person, half of your income goes to charities, environmental projects, house for the homeless, better educations, the whole nine yards.

That’s your life, you save lives at work and on your off days, you help rebuild them.

Your friends are the same way, Dr. Tony Stark; Billionaire of the world largest industries and security, Sam Wilson; world-renowned lawyer, he could talk his way into an all-women college just for the hell of it, Steve Rogers; the best cardiothoracic surgeon the world has ever seen, Dr. James “Bucky” Barnes; a Psychiatrist, for veterans, orphans, anyone who needs help, Barnes is the best, Thor Odinson; an excellent historian who knows almost everything, could even tell you the weather that day if you wanted to know, Natalia (Natasha) Romanova; a physical therapist for injured soldiers and anyone in general, Dr. Bruce Banner; the best scientist there is in Biochemistry, Nuclear Physics, and Gamma Radiation, Clint Barton; Olympic Archer, Colonel James “Rhodey” Rhodes; the title speaks for itself, an officer in the United States Air Force, and Wanda Maximoff; Ambassador for the government of Sokovia.

You all try to stay in touch, Sunday dinners to everyone who can make it, birthday parties, and holidays. You are all family, and family is the most important thing there is. That’s the life you live, every day, a routine you are happy to stick to.

______

“Dr. y/l/n to trauma 2. Dr. y/l/n to trauma 2.” The overhead speaker says, turn on your heels you make your way to the ER.

Walking in you grab a pair of gloves, “What do we have?”

“Bullett to the head, stuck in the skull.” A nurse responds

“Vitals?”

You let the nurses put on the trama wear on you as you read the chart

“ BP 160/100, Oxygenation 70, GCS is 10.”

“Do 100 mg per 5 mL of morphine, watch oxygen rate, it can't get any lower, call the anesthesiologist, get OR 1 prepped and take him down there. We are doing emergency surgery, make sure to contact the next of kin, and I need a more detailed background on him now!” You take everything off and make your way to the locker room to change and then the OR to scrub in.

____

After finishing the surgery and having to put the patient in a medically induced coma for the next 48 hours, you had to head to your office to finish some paperwork. An hour later into paperwork there is a knock at your office door, looking up you see one of your residents.

“Hey Conrad, what’s up? “ You stand up addressing him

“Here is the file you asked for on the gunshot wound head patient earlier.” He hands you the file smiling.

“Oh yeah, thank you, Conrad!” You return the smile and watch him walk out before sitting down.

After opening the file, you look through it carefully before sighing sadly. Sitting back you debate with yourself before grabbing your office phone and pulling out the contact log for the person you are looking for.

After quickly dialing the number, you wait for an answer.

After two rings someone picks up, “Dr. Barnes’ office, Julia speaking”

“Hey, Julia it’s Dr. y/n y/l/n from Grady Hospital in Atlanta Georgia. Is James in today?” You ask using your professional voice

“Hold please..”

You sigh against the phone, leaning back in your chair

“Dr. James Barnes.” A deep voice speaks which makes you pick up the phone.

“Hey Bucky, it’s y/n.”

“Hey! How are you? Are you okay?” You can tell he is smiling through the phone.

Chuckling, “Yeah, I’m okay... I have a patient here who needs you.”

There is a long pause before he speaks again, “How bad?”

This is the worst part of your job, but it has to be done.

“Attempted suicide, a gunshot wound to the head, I placed him into a coma.” You stop before continuing

“Bucky it’s worse, the bullet perpetrated the front left lobe and grazed the parietal lobes. He is going to lose the feeling in his right hand” All you hear is shuffling before he speaks again.

“Give me 5 hours.”

“You have 4.” With that, you hang up. You log on your computer sending him the file so he can review on his flight over here.

Looking at the clock you see it is five pm, you log off your computer, grabbing your jacket slipping it on, and then grabbing your work bag and purse with your keys and phone in hand.

You turn off the lights and lock the door to your office.

Getting to the main floor, you head to the garage before you hear someone calling your name. You turn around to see your assistant, Mike.

“Ma’am I need you to sign these” Mike pants, obvious to see him ran to catch up.

“Mike I thought I told you to take a half day, hmm.” You shift everything grabbing the pen before reviewing the documents.

“I was but then I realized I have no life so...” He laughs to himself, you sign the papers before handing back the pen.

“Mike go home right now before I fire you.” You sternly say.

He quickly nods before walking away. You just shake your head and head to the car.

___

You reach your house in no time, grabbing your things out the car and walking inside the house.

“Welcome home ma’am!” Your AI says.

“Hello Maze, can you please play me my voicemails?” Asking nicely as you walk through the house to set your work bag in your office that unlocks as you approach it.

“One voicemail from Sam Wilson;

“ Hey y/n, I sent you a file I need you to look at. I have a case down here in Florida, you know how Floridians are-” he laughs to himself “..anyways, he is pleading the insanity and if I could get you to consult on it that would be great and I promise you I'll buy that L’aurora Ruby Print Draped Tulle Dress you’ve had your eye on, even though I know you could buy it yourself.”

There is a long pause, as you make your way to your bedroom which unlocks and opens as you approach it. You start undressing, and remove the makeup from your face and get into the shower.

“Just review it and do the doctor shit that you do and send it back, I owe you. Thanks, love you!” The message ends

“Would you like to respond?”Maze asks

“Just tell him “I’ll do it, but you owe me that dress”

“Message sent. There are no more voicemail messages, is that all I can do for you?” The AI asks

“Yes, that’s all, thanks Maze!” You say even though you know she won’t respond.

You finish up your shower, french braid your hair from the scalp even though it still braided it reaches the middle of your back, you brush your teeth and clean up the bathroom before exiting.

Going downstairs and to the kitchen, you find something to cook since you know James will be here in 3 hours. Deciding on steak and vegetables, which should be done by the time he arrives.

____

Just after you clean the dishes, set the table, and place the food, the doorbell rings.

“Dr. Barnes is here ma’am, would you like to enter?” Maze asks

“Yeah let him through the gate and allow him through the door.” You say wiping your hands off

“Certainly ma’am.”

Soon after in walks, James Barnes himself trudging his suitcase behind him. You walk up to him to greet him as he takes his jacket off and places it on the rack.

“Hey Doll!” He smiles, embracing you in a big hug.

“Hi, Buck! How was the flight?” You ask barely breathing because of how tight the hug is.

“It was fine, you smell great by the way..” He says finally breaking the hug, he smiles down at you.

You just laugh and drag him to the dining room. You guys catch up while eating, mostly about work since that all you two ever do.

While cleaning up Bucky breaks the silence, “ I talked to Nat, about you know help the patient with PT in the result of him losing his hand. She wouldn’t mind, so you could just recommend her to his family.”

You debate with yourself before responding, “I rather him not lose it at all, but since no one can get in contact with his family we can’t sign off on the experimental surgery. He can’t sign off on it himself because he isn’t in the right state of mind. I just- I just want the best for him… Being a vet is already hard enough, and with PTSD and depression doesn’t make it any better.”

You face Bucky after drying the last dish, and he leans against the counter.

“If he clears the psychiatric test then you have nothing to worry about and he keeps his arm.” Bucky kisses the top of your head.

“Don’t worry we will figure it out Friday when he wakes up, right now I would like to sleep and so should you.” He grabs his things from the entryway.

You turn off the lights in the kitchen, “Buck do not move. I’m setting the alarm”

He stands still as you type on the system.

“Alarm setting. All windows: Locked. All doors: Locked. Motion Sensors: On. Activating bedtime mode. All Clear, Goodnight Ma’am and Dr. Barnes.” Maze announces

You both say goodnight and head to your rooms.

#Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x Reader #Captain America #Avenger X Reader #Avengers #Marvel Cinematic Universe #MCU #Marvel #Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #The Winter Soldier #Modern AU #X Reader #X You #100kindsofblake #100kindsofblakefics #Etiquette #Etiquette Series #100kindsofblakemasterlist

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bumblesimagines · 3 years

Text

We All Have Secrets

Part 2

Request: Yes or No

TW: Homophobia, transphobia, biphobia

(Y/N) opened the fridge, taking out the orange juice. Maria watched him with a small smile, head resting on her fist as she took in the smell of bacon and eggs.

"I love having an aspiring chef as a boyfriend." Maria cooed, giggling softly as she watched him. (Y/N) chuckled, pouring her a glass of juice and placing it infront of her.

"These are the basics everyone knows how to do." (Y/N) reminded, turning off the stove and putting the plate infront of her. He sat across from her, handing her a fork. (Y/N) looked at his phone, picking it up and answering the call from Isabela.

"Yeah?" He asked, getting a bacon strip and taking a bite.

"Remember the hacker shit? Natalia, Raul, and Gerry were the assholes who betrayed me. They chose me." Isabela told him, huffing lightly. (Y/N) heard Isabela zipping up her bag. (Y/N) looked at Maria, licking his lips. Maria blinked, eyes widening as she stared at something on her phone.

"The hacker asked if I wanted revenge." Isabela said softly. (Y/N) put down his fork, rubbing his forehead as he sighed.

"Let's talk more at school. I'll see you there." (Y/N) said, hanging up and going on instagram. He saw the posts from the hacker, watching them. (Y/N) scoffed as he watched Pablo's video.

"What a piece of shit." He whispered, scrolling down to Natalia's video. Maria put her phone down, gaze flickering from place to place. She quickly ate and finished her juice, standing up and going to (Y/N)'s bedroom.

"Princess?" (Y/N) called out, standing up and following her. Maria glanced at him, changing out of (Y/N)'s clothes and into some clothes she had left behind from previous visits and nights over.

"I-I should be there for Natalia. God knows what she might be going through." Maria said, picking up her bag. (Y/N) nodded, changing as well and grabbing his keys.

"Come on." He smiled softly, grabbing her hand. They left the house, getting into (Y/N)'s car and driving to school. Maria's leg bounced from nerves. She anxiously nibbled on her bottom lip, looking out the window.

"Who do you think is Hunny Bunny?" (Y/N) asked, staring at the road. Maria blinked and turned her head, looking at him. Her lips parted as she shrugged.

"I'm not sure." She breathed out. (Y/N) hummed, a sigh leaving him as he shook his head. He drove into the parking lot, pulling into a spot and getting out. He could hear people talking about the videos, wrapping an arm around Maria's shoulders as they headed inside. Maria immediately spotted her sister, quickly approaching her and giving her a hug.

"What they said.. Wasn't true, right?" Maria asked, pulling away and placing her hands on Natalia's shoulders. Natalia scoffed, rolling her eyes and pushing Maria's hands away.

"Of course, Maria." She crossed her arms, glancing at the other students. (Y/N) noticed Isabela walking in, heading towards the lockers.

"I'll see you in class, gorgeous." (Y/N) said, pecking Maria's temple and jogging over to Isabela. He caught up to her, gently grabbing her arm. Isabela turned her head, noticing him and sighing softly. She pulled him into a classroom, arms crossing as she leaned against a desk.

"Natalia, Gerry, and Raul were behind it. I can't believe them! They sacrificed me to save their owm asses." Isabela shook her head, tapping her foot on the ground. She bit her bottom lip, eyes watering.

"They were supposed to be my friends. I wouldn't have saved my ass. I would've had my own secret revealed to save them. I guess the truth's out. Natalia's a thief, Rauls dad is a corrupted politician, Gerry's gay, and Pablo is a cheater." Isabela shook her head, sighing deeply. She looked at (Y/N), eyes softening.

"I know you love Maria. You can stick by her and Natalia-"

"No, Isa. I've known you longer than any of them. I love Maria but she'll support Natalia like always. I'll support you. You know Maria supports you as well. She just doesn't want to hurt her sister." (Y/N) shrugged lightly, running a hand through his hair. He placed a hand on Isabela's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"You'll always have my support, Isa. Don't listen to what these nosy fuckers have to say." (Y/N) said, pulling her in for a hug. Isabela hugged him back tightly, sniffling softly. They pulled back and gave each other smiles. Isabela took out her phone to check her makeup, making sure it wasn't running.

"You're the person I can trust." She mumbled, fixing her hair. They headed to class when the bell rang, entering and getting their lab coats. (Y/N) sat down beside Maria, gaze briefly locking with Javier. He looked away, sighing softly. The classroom was mostly silent, tension high in the air. A lot of things had been revealed over the span of two days.

"Jeez, why is everyone so tense? The only who should be tense is Natalia." Rosita said, chuckling as she motioned towards the irritated girl. The boys snickered, earning glares from Natalia. Isabela didn't spare Pablo a glance, simply looking forward. Maria glanced at (Y/N), reaching over and taking his hand. The teacher, Gabriela, walked in, greeting the class as she walked towards the front. She noticed the silence and sighed.

"Look, I know all of us are a little nervous after what happened but let's try to stay focused in class today, alright?" Gabriela looked over them.

"Let's start by brainstorming ideas for the science project." She tugged on the bottom of the projector, letting it rise to reveal a drawing on the whiteboard with 'Pablo's giant dick' next to it. Snickers spread across the classroom. Gabriela scoffed, beginning to erase it. Pablo got up to help, mumbling things under his breath. Isabela rolled her eyes, tapping her pen on the table. (Y/N) snorted quietly, earning a nudge from Maria.

"You've never seen one that big?" Pablo asked, dusting off his hands and looking at the others.

"Why are you doing it? Why not let her do it? It's her dick." Gerry said, motioning to Isabela. (Y/N)'s small grin dropped, sitting up and glaring at Gerry.

"Shut the fuck up, Gerry." (Y/N) sneered. Maria gave his hand a squeeze, shaking her head lightly. Isabela scoffed and raised her hand.

"Gabriela, can I change partners? I don't want to work with Pablo." Isabela said. Gabriela nodded.

"You can work with Natalia. Maria can work with Pablo-"

"I don't want Natalia either." Isabela crossed her arms, avoiding Natalia's stunned gaze. "Can I work with (Y/N)?"

"Isa! I already told you I didn't steal anything!" Natalia huffed, frowning and glaring at her classmates. Gerry raised his hand, looking serious.

"Can I make a suggestion?"

"What is it?"

"I think Alex, (Y/N), and Ismael should work together. They'd make a diverse and open-minded project." Gerry said, shrugging as students laughed. Isabela stood up from her seat, walking towards Gerry. Gerry quickly stood and backed up.

"Isabela! My name's Isabela, asshole." Isabela snapped, glaring at Pablo when he got between them. (Y/N) got up, walking towards Gerry and grabbing him by the collar.

"(Y/N), baby, calm down!" Maria stood and went after her boyfriend, pulling on his arm. She glanced at Javier who tried pulling him back as well. Isabela pushed Pablo back, stepping away from him.

"(Y/N), let him go. Do it this instant." Gabriela ordered, glancing at Isabela and Pablo. (Y/N) let him go, turning and looking at Isabela as she pushed Natalia back as well.

"Don't touch me!" Isabela glared at them, continuing to back away from them. Gerry was pushed away from (Y/N) by Gabriela to keep them apart.

"Calm down your bunny, dude!" Gerry told Pablo. Isabela scoffed, eyes watering as she rolled her eyes. Gerry feinged surprise, hand covering his mouth.

"Oh my god. That's right! Ismael isn't your bunny, right?" Gerry asked. Isabela grabbed a testing tube, throwing it at Gerry with a frustrated scream. Gerry ducked, letting it shatter behind him. The classroom went silent.

"And that's Ismael!" Gerry laughed as Gabriela grabbed him, pushing him towards that door.

"That's enough! All of you to the principals office!" Gabriela shouted at them, pointing towards the door. Isabela took off the lab coat, tossing it to the side and leaving the classroom. (Y/N) followed after, walking out of the classroom. Natalia, Pablo, Gerry, and Javier followed after.

"Miss-"

"You stay here, Maria." Gabriela breathed out, pushing her red curls away from her face as she panted softly.

(Y/N) plopped down beside Isabela, hands in his pockets. He sat up and scooted closer to her when Javier sat beside him. Javier noticed, jaw clenching but he stayed silent.

"That's one way to skip class." (Y/N) muttered, tilting his head back. Isabela sighed, arms crossed and shoulders tense. Lulu, Quintanilla's secretary, looked over them with a disapproving head shake. They silently waited to be called into Quintanillas office. Sofia joined them, sitting beside Javier. Quintanilla opened his door, motioning to Pablo. Pablo pushed himself off the wall, entering his office. (Y/N) scoffed at the flirtatious look Lulu gave him when he passed by her.

"I always knew she had a loose screw." (Y/N) mumbled, toying with his hoodie strings. Isabela glanced at him, lightly shaking her head.

"Bet it's drier than the Sahara down there." Isabela mumbled with a small grin, earning a chuckle from (Y/N).

"(Y/N), can we talk later?" Sofia asked after leaning forward. (Y/N) looked at her, nodding. He glanced at Javier before looking forward again. Sofia shifted her gaze onto Isabela. The two quietly spoke before Isabela was called in. Sofia stood and took her spot, giving (Y/N) small smile.

"It's been a while since we've hung out." Sofia said quietly. (Y/N) licked his lips, shrugging as he gave her a small grin.

"Yeah, we haven't had a depressing conversation on the roof in forever." They chuckled. Sofia smiled and sighed, running a hand through her short hair. (Y/N) wrapped his hoodie string around his finger, gaze drifting to the ground.

"What do you want to talk about?" (Y/N) asked, brows furrowing. Sofia looked at him, licking her chapped lips. She glanced at the others, leaning in slightly.

"The hacker's identity." She explained quietly. (Y/N) hummed, nodding slowly. He glanced at Javier when he stood up to get a cup of water.

"I don't think you'd do something like this." Sofia said, giving him a small smile. (Y/N) looked at her, cocking a brow.

"And why not? Am I not smart enough to be a hacker?"

"Yeah, basically." Sofia nodded, laughing when (Y/N) scoffed and gently pushed her. He looked up when Isabela left the office, letting the door slam behind her. She mumbled things under her breath as she passed by. Javier sat down, watching her walk away. Quintanilla called for Natalia but Lulu reminded him of a meeting.

"Luis mom is here cause her son's backpack was peed on." Lulu explained. (Y/N) immediately looked at Gerry, scoffing and shaking her head.

"You've got to be a certain type of breed to pee on people's stuff like an animal." (Y/N) said under his breath, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. Natalia entered Quintanillas office as Sofia stood up to get water. (Y/N) stared up at the ceiling as he waited to be called. Natalia quickly rushed out of the office, earning odd looks.

"(Y/N), come in." Quintanilla called, nodding inside.

"Finally." (Y/N) whispered as he stood, walking into his office and sitting down. He rested his arm on the armrest, watching Quintanilla sit down.

"I'm surprised to see you here. You're usually a well behaved student. Now, I know Isabela is a good friend of yours-"

"Is Gerry gonna face any consequences? What he's doing can be considered bullying." (Y/N) cut him off, tilting his head. Quintanilla licked his lips, giving a small nod.

"Well, as far as I'm aware, this is a one time occurrence." Quintanilla shrugged.

"With Isabela, maybe. What about Luis? Gerry and his ass kissers always bully him. They peed on his fucking backpack. You would've made time for his mom. What kind of principal lets a bully get away with no consequences? Oh, wait... I know. The type who just wants to suck up to the parents of the rich kids. You know, I really hoped you were better, Quintanilla. You're just as incompetent as Lulu." (Y/N) shook his head, looking towards the window. Quintanilla cleared his throat.

"Where is this attitude coming from?"

"From exhaustion. When Luis finally snaps and does something stupid or Gerry decides to impress his friends by doing a shitty thing, it'll be entirely on you." (Y/N) stood, chair scratching loudly against the floor. He walked towards the door, opening it and grabbing the door handle. He pulled on it, making it slam loudly. (Y/N) dug his hands into his pockets, walking away. He glanced at the four remaining, giving a small shrug.

"Today's a great day." He grinned, heading downstairs. (Y/N) blew a raspberry, walking towards a water fountain. He drank some water, leaning back and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He looked at Maria as she approached him. She wrapped her arms around him, gazing up at him.

"(N/N), what happened? What did you talk about?" Maria asked, frowning. (Y/N) shrugged, wrapping an arm would her waist and walking beside her.

"We talked about conversing before escalating things." (Y/N) replied, giving her a small smile. Maria relaxed, leaning against him and wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Isa probably already told you but Nati stole her phone and let the hacker have it." Maria said softly, still in disbelief.

"I can't believe my sister is not only a thief but a terrible friend." Maria looked up at him, giving his side a squeeze. (Y/N) looked down at her, smiling softly.

"I'm thankful I got with the better sister." (Y/N) grinned, laughing softly. Maria rolled her eyes playfully, giving him gently.

"Maria, I need your help!" The couple looked at Natalia with furrowed brows. Natalia looked between them, a frown on her face.

"Help me look for my purse. I think I left it in science class but.. I-I don't know." Natalia grabbed Maria's hand, pulling them along. (Y/N) sighed, letting go of Maria when they entered the science classroom. The three searched for Natalia's bag.

"How do you lose a pink bag?" (Y/N) asked, glancing under some seats. Natalia shrugged, continuing to frantically search.

"I'm not sure." Natalia breathed out. (Y/N) dusted off his hands on his jeans, standing beside Maria. The two watched Natalia, sharing a glance.

"It'll appear again, Nati. We need to focus on the Nona thing." Maria reminded as she faced her. (Y/N) wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"Maria, focus. Do you know how much that purse costs?" Natalia asked, frustrated. Rosita entered the classroom, letting a grin slip.

"Are you okay, Nati?" Rosita asked, tilting her head. Natalia spun around to face her.

"No! My purse is missing!" She huffed. Maria sighed, leaning back against (Y/N). Rosita clicked her tongue, pouting.

"Too bad they stole your purse. I'm sure you had to save up a lot for it." Rosita said, the fake pity clear as day. Natalia looked at her, slowly approaching her.

"You know where it is?" She asked quietly.

"What's the matter with you? Not everyone is like you." Rosita said. She grinned widely, blowing her kiss.

"See you around." She turned and walked away.

"Fucking bitch!" Natalia screamed after her, earning a look from Maria. (Y/N) chuckled, shaking his head and looking away when Natalia glared at him. He pecked the top of Maria's head before stepping away from her.

"So, where else have you been?" (Y/N) asked, tilting his head. "Maybe you left it somewhere else."

"I already checked my locker and the lunchroom. Rosita fucking stole it. She's such a bitch." Natalia muttered. (Y/N) took out his phone when it vibrated, looking at the text.

Javier W.

We need to talk.

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green-eyeddragonfanfiction · 6 years

Text

War of Attrition: Chapter 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Reader Summary: Best friends with Steve Rogers, renowned Howling Commando, and married to one James Buchanan Barnes, your life wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as it could possibly be in the middle of World War II. Then you fell from a train in the Alps, and everything changed. You spent nearly 70 years as a tool of Hydra alongside your beloved, though your past with him was more often than not forgotten. Natasha, Steve, and Maria reel at the [second] assassination attempt of Nick Fury. Hydra makes moves to cross the Black Widow and Captain America off its lists. Warnings: Swearing (always), death, violence, guns, blood, dismemberment Word Count: ~3,767 A/N: “Quotes and italics” is Russian. Just italics is memories/thoughts.

Masterlist // Book One // Book Two

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

“You can tell Handler Pierce you let him get away from you, then.”

He went stiff against your back and you knew that had struck a nerve. “We still have eight hours.”

You frowned. “So it’s on me to find him again.”

There was a pause, then, “No, it’s on us.”

Steve’s POV

Steve watched through the large glass window as a team of nurses and doctors worked to save Nick Fury’s life. He registered the door behind him opening and a second later Natasha was by his side looking absolutely distraught.

“He gonna make it?” she asked, her tone calm even though her eyes were wide and scared.

“I don’t know,” Steve answered honestly. Three slugs to the chest. Straight through the bulletproof jacket. The mystery shooter with the metal arm had done a lot of damage.

“Tell me about the shooter,” Natasha said quietly, as though talking too loudly would somehow jinx Fury’s chances of making it out alive.

“He’s fast. Strong. Had a metal arm.”

Natasha went silent next to him, but he didn’t see the look of horror on her face. “Ballistics,” Natasha said, question implied in the demand.

“Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable,” Agent Hill informed her. Leave it to her to stay serious and calm in this situation.

“Soviet-made,” Natasha said quietly, eyes transfixed on a point Steve couldn’t see.

Agent Hill looked over at her, surprised. “Yeah...”

“Was there a woman with him?” Natasha asked. It was clear her question was directed at Steve.

He couldn’t figure out what emotion that was lacing her voice. Steve frowned, gaze flicking to her then back to Fury. “No. I only saw them man with the metal arm. No other hostiles.”

Movement in the surgery room pulled their attention back. Nurses and doctors were yelling back and forth, but even Steve could tell something had gone wrong. Nick Fury was dying. He watched as they pulled the crash cart over then injected epinephrine into him.

“Don’t do this to me,” Natasha whispered.

Still no pulse.

Steve watched detachedly as they declared a time of death, his focus on the woman beside him. Natasha was reeling from the shock.

Director Nicholas J. Fury was dead.

Your POV - Less Than An Hour Ago

The Soldier jumped off the roof and landed right next to you. He rolled to diffuse the worst of the impact and was on the back of the bike within a second of hitting the pavement. You took off the moment his butt hit the seat. He must have been worried about making a hasty getaway because he was facing forward, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Faster. My pursuer isn’t someone we want to fight if we can avoid it.”

You didn’t dignify the demand with a response and simply sped up instead. The bike was quiet as a ghost in the night. Working in the darkness felt way more comfortable than attacking in broad daylight had.

“Is he dead?” you asked once you were sure you were a safe enough distance away from any potential threats.

“You tell me. Three shots to the chest, most likely. He was very careful not to give me a line of sight for a clear shot, but I was able to extrapolate his position from the way the blond man was talking to him. I know I hit, but I can’t be sure he’s dead unless we go back.”

You shook your head, filing the mention of “the blond man” away for further questioning. “I was too far away to activate backscatter imaging. I’ll have to trust your abilities.”

“It would have been better to have you there,” he said quietly.

You shook your head. “Someone needed to have the bike ready to go. You’re a better shot even when you can’t see through the walls,” you said bluntly. It was true. You were great in short-duration hand-to-hand combat or as a shock trooper (literally), but he was a better shot and lasted longer in extended fights simply because he had greater strength and stamina. “I’m a better driver anyway,” you added as an afterthought. “We need to return to Handler Pierce. Our mission is done.” We’ll be returned to cryofreeze, you thought, but couldn’t bring yourself to say. You hated the cold place- feeling your blood freeze in your veins before you lost consciousness. They’d gotten better at the process over the years but the very idea still sent chills down your spine. It was for the best, though. You and the other Soldier didn’t function properly if they didn’t freeze and wipe you between missions. It was your own fault for being defective.

It was almost as if the other Soldier could read your train of thought. He gave you a gentle squeeze and you hated the way your body relaxed into his arms. You were on mission. Relaxing could kill you.

But it felt good, so you let it happen.

You felt him rest his head on your shoulder and you tutted half-heartedly. “At least help me keep a lookout for danger,” you said quietly.

“As you wish,” came the surprisingly subdued reply. He usually wasn’t this easygoing. You supposed if there was one time to care less about your behavior it would be after you completed a mission and were about to be wiped anyway. He lifted his head and you could tell he was carefully scanning his surroundings for any potential threat, though you both knew you’d spot anything before he did.

You and the Soldier returned to the bank that they’d been keeping you in, but they didn’t wipe you. Brock Rumlow was waiting with a small group of agents, though. You were to take orders from Rumlow if Pierce was absent.

“Change of plans. You’re to wait here on standby until we receive our next orders. Your mission was a success and Secretary Pierce is pleased, but he anticipates resistance as he moves forward with Project Insight,” Rumlow explained.

When you and the other Soldier simply stared at him he sighed and reached into his bag. Both you and the other Soldier tensed, expecting him to draw a weapon, but when he retracted his hand the only things he had were a few plastic-wrapped packages. He threw them at the two of you and you caught them with ease though you eyed them dubiously, obviously expecting a trap.

“They’re food. Eat them.” Without another word he turned and left, leaving you and the other Soldier mostly alone in the bank vault. They didn’t close the door, but you knew there were at least ten men keeping guard just outside.

It was an order, so you and the Soldier obeyed. The packaging on the front revealed them to be protein bars. They weren’t bad, exactly, just too chewy and vaguely fake-tasting. There were three total and you had to practically shove the third one down the other Soldier’s throat. He didn’t want to eat it and insisted you at least split it, but you knew he needed the sustenance more than you did. He was the only one doing hard work today and he always burned calories faster than you anyway.

“Eat it,” you hissed, trying in vain to shove the protein bar at him.

“No, you should have it,” he insisted, stopping your arms with an ease that always infuriated you.

You glowered at him, but he didn’t look cowed at all. “If you don’t eat this then I won’t eat mine at all,” you threatened.

He finally glared down at you and you felt a thrill of victory run through you. “Fine, you stubborn creature.” He snatched it from your hand and ripped the package open, letting the silver and white wrapper flutter to the dirty bank floor. In a nearly feral move he opened his mouth wide and ripped the bar in half with his teeth, glowering malevolently at you as he chewed.

You tilted your head to the side, considering the childish action. It was... cute? The thought made you frown and you bit sullenly into your bar, doing your best to ignore the angry stares the other Soldier kept throwing your way as he unwrapped the second bar and began eating that, too. The two of you skirted around the edge of the room, staying as far away from the chair in the center of the room as possible. The two of you never strayed more than a few feet from one another and eventually settled in an alcove near the door. You switched your eyes to backscatter every few seconds, though the thick vault walls made it hard to see more than a few feet past it in any direction.

“Sleep.”

You looked over at the other Soldier, face nearly free of expression minus the slight upward tilt of an eyebrow.

“I’ll sleep after. We’ll take turns like we’re supposed to on stakeout,” he amended quickly.

You stared at him for a moment longer, relaxing against the wall and trying to fall asleep as quickly as possible. Both of you had the ability to sleep at a moment’s notice, needing rest wherever and whenever you could get it.

You surprised the other Soldier by leaning over slightly, closing the few inch gap between you, and laying your head on his shoulder. The only inclination he gave of having noticed was how still he went the moment your cheek touched the leather of his black jacket.

You fell asleep not one minute later, the sound of his steady, quiet breathing lulling you to sleep.

You weren’t sure exactly how long you’d been asleep when Rumlow came barreling into the room a little later.

“Get up! You!” He pointed to you. You were completely awake and on your feet within a second of him stepping into the vault. The other Soldier was on his feet, too, and he was tracking Rumlow with the calculating eyes of a predator. “You’re coming with me. Just you.” He stared at the other Soldier. “You stay here. If things don’t go as planned I’ll be back for you.”

The other Soldier nodded, though his eyes were burning. The two of you worked better as a team and it was clear to you that he hated the idea of you being separated. You spared him a single glance over your shoulder as you followed Rumlow out of the bank vault, heart skipping a painful beat at the look on his face.

They loaded you onto a quinjet and flew you to New Jersey. Why they wanted you there was beyond you, but you knew better than to ask questions or second-guess orders.

You sat quietly in one of the seats on the jet, ignoring the Hydra agents that wisely gave you a wide berth. The ride was shorter than you’d been expecting and before you knew it they were marching you off the plane, Rumlow barking orders at you as you walked into the bombed out remains of an old military camp.

The surroundings looked familiar, but the base itself was reduced to rubble and you wouldn’t have been able to recognize what it once looked like even if you could access all of your long-buried memories. “Scan the debris in this area. Backscatter. You have that, right?” When you nodded an affirmative he pointed to a large pile of debris that looked to be part of an old building. It was a relatively huge hole in the ground. It would take you a while to search everything, even with your eyes.

“Am I looking for something specific?” you asked, voice raspy and quiet.

Rumlow nodded, a smirk dancing at the corner of his lips. “Yeah. Bodies. Two. One male, one female.”

You nodded your understanding and walked away from him, gracefully dropping down into the hole, stepping off slabs of cracked concrete and brick as your eyes scanned every inch of the debris you could find.

It was what you spotted with your normal vision, though, that gave you pause.

You looked up, your faintly glowing eyes searching for Rumlow in the gloom. You spotted him immediately and sprang gracefully through the rubble, coming to a sudden halt in front of him that had him flinching and reaching for his gun. “Fuck, what is it?” he asked, eyeing you warily. His hand hovered nervously above his holster.

“Tracks leading out of the debris. Not standard tac boots. Civilian. No tracks leading in.”

Rumlow cursed. “How many? Just the one set?”

You shook your head. “Two pairs to begin with, then one. The smaller pair seemed to be stumbling, then they vanished. No body. Likely the owner of the larger set carried them off site.”

Rumlow swore loudly enough to give the nearby agents pause, his fist connecting loudly with the nearest half-destroyed wall. “Pierce is going to be pissed. He sacrificed Zola trying to kill those damn rats.”

Zola.

The name rang out in your head, bouncing inside your skull until it was a deafening cacophony that blocked out all other thoughts.

You and I vill do great things, Fräulein.

You vill cooperate if you vant your precious man to live.

I haf made you better, Fräulein. You should be thanking me.

I gave you life. You will stomp Hydra’s enemies out of existence.

You head spun as the nasally, slimy voice filled your mind. Rumlow was too caught up in his own problems to notice, but you felt yourself nearly lose your balance before your hand shot out to steady yourself on an upright slab of concrete.

Gone.

You tried to take a deep steady breath, gulping down air greedily.

Gone, your mind insisted again. The source of that voice was gone, though you weren’t sure how you knew that voice belonged to the man Rumlow mentioned. Perhaps it was the same way you knew over a hundred way to kill a man without a weapon but couldn’t remember your name, how old you were, or where you were born.

The thought bolstered you more than you thought possible. You stood up straight, a deep sense of calm overtaking your senses. Up until that moment you hadn’t realized how tightly coiled your muscles were. Hadn’t felt the dark feeling swirling deep in your gut, wrongess permeating your entire being. Your body felt lighter than it ever had and you found yourself smiling almost manically. It was sheer luck that you were facing the wall and none of the Hydra agents noticed. You were sure they’d send you back to the chair if they saw you displaying emotion too openly.

“Asset.”

By the time you turned around to face Brock Rumlow, your face was as impassive as ever.

“You’re to rendezvous with the other Soldier at Secretary Pierce’s estate. Ensure you’re not seen entering the premises. He’ll give you instructions there. Your motorcycle is in the jet you came in. My boys are unloading it now. Dismissed.”

The moment he uttered that last word you were moving, eager to put this place behind you. It gave you chills and stirred that dark place in your mind that you’d long learned to ignore because it only brought more mind wipes and hours of painful torture.

A few hours later, Washington DC

The other Soldier had arrived before you and it was too risky to talk about anything in Pierce’s home, so you said nothing about Zola. You and the Soldier sat amongst the dark shadows in the dining area. Neither of you moved and it was only the faint glow of your eyes in the darkness that alerted Alexander Pierce to your presence. He shut the refrigerator door, eyes flicking between the two of you quickly.

“I’m going to go, Mister Pierce,” the maid said from the hallway. Your and the other Soldier’s eyes flicked to the doorway, though neither of you moved an inch. “You need anything before I leave?” she asked. It was pure luck she hadn’t rounded the corner and seen the two of you sitting there. Your gazes swiveled back to Pierce, looking for any orders about the situation. Neither of you had been spotted coming in, of course. You weren’t the deadliest assassins in history for nothing.

But you’d been ordered to his house and you wouldn’t leave unless Pierce told you to.

Without taking his eyes off the two of you, he spoke loudly enough for the maid to hear. “No, uh. It’s fine, Renata. You can go home.”

“Okay, night night!” she called happily, exhaustion just barely tingeing her voice.

You used your backscatter imaging to watch her throw her purse over her shoulder and walk out the front door. You flicked your vision back to normal, eyes falling on Pierce once again.

“Want some milk?” Pierce asked the two of you, turning his back on you to grab a glass from the cupboards. The two of you barely blinked in response as he sat the glass down on the counter and poured himself a small amount. He shrugged when neither you nor the other Soldier said anything. “The timetable has moved. Our window is limited.”

He took a long sip of milk and walked around the kitchen island, coming to sit across from the other Soldier. You eyed him from your spot atop the raised fireplace hearth.

“Two targets, level six. They already cost me Zola. I want confirmed death in ten hours,” Pierce ordered.

“Oh- uh, Mister Pierce, I...” Renata turned the corner, her gaze first falling on Pierce then to you and the other Soldier. The two of you stared at her, gazes flat and uncaring as she shifted nervously, mind struggling to process what it was seeing.

Pierce turned in his chair to look at her, his gaze not giving anything away.

“I, uh... forgot my phone...” she said nervously.

You glared at her, knowing what came next. She saw the two of you with Handler Pierce. Any second now he’d give the order and-

“Oh, Renata,” Pierce sighed, picking up the pistol on the table. “I wish you would have knocked.”

Before she had a chance to react Pierce fired two shots into her chest, sending her reeling backwards, crashing to the ground in an unsightly heap. She was dead before she hit the carpet.

“Take care of that before you go, would you?” Pierce said as he returned the gun to the table. He stood and walked over to the sink, washing his hands of any gun residue.

When he turned around and the two of you were still sitting as still as statues his gaze turned hard. “You have your orders. Dismissed.”

By the end of the next hour, Renata was in pieces in the bottom of the Potomac, fingers cut off at the ends and teeth pulled for good measure. If she was ever found, they’d never find all of her, much less be able to identify her.

You and the Soldier holed up in a Hydra safe house. You sat in front of a wall of monitors, eyes flicking to each one in turn, taking in all the information you could.

Two targets. Off the grid. Targeting Hydra operations.

Steven Grant Rogers and Natasha Alianovna Romanoff.

Deadly, experienced, driven. A dangerous combination.

“If this were us, what would we do?” you asked, glancing over at the other Soldier, who was watching the screens carefully, too.

The Soldier’s gaze flicked to you, blue eyes bright and thoughtful with the challenge at hand. “Project Insight is their goal. They’ll aim to take the Triskelion. It’s too heavily fortified to attack head on. If I were them I’d look for an in. Someone that can get them past security.”

You nodded and watched the data streams and video feeds flicker across the screens. “Who are they going to go after?”

The other Soldier flicked through the tablet in his hand, likely searching through the database of Hydra agents. “They were on the Lemurian Star. They’ve likely realized Sitwell is Hydra. He has the clearance needed to get them on the base.”

“Sitwell?” you asked, turning to look at him.

“Agent Jasper Sitwell. Level 7 SHIELD Clearance. Working for Hydra since he was 17. He’s been deep undercover in SHIELD for years.”

You looked back to the screen, watching as the facial recognition software searched any and all sources for your targets. “Expendable?”

“Targets are a level 6. Every agent except Handler Pierce is expendable,” the other Soldier said without hesitation. Even you and me. The words hung unspoken between the two of you.

“We’ll continue surveillance in shifts. Track Sitwell closely. I have copies of his timetable and I’ve already entered it in my system. If he makes any unscheduled stops or moves in an unpredictable way, we’ll know he’s been compromised. At that point he’ll lead us directly to our targets.”

The other Soldier nodded in understanding. “And if they don’t try to use Sitwell?”

“They have to go to the Triskelion if they wish to stop Project Insight. If it comes to that, we’ll be there waiting.”

He leaned back against the headboard, seemingly satisfied with that answer.

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Go to sleep. I’ll take the first shift.”

He shook his head. “No.”

You turned away from the screens to glare at him. “Why not? It’s your turn.”

He tilted his head and regarded you for a moment. “I’ll sleep on one condition.”

You bit back a sigh. “What is it?”

“Come sit with me.”

You froze, staring at him with mild shock. You looked at his seemingly relaxed pose, the way his legs were propped up and open, the space between them inviting. You quickly weighed your options.

“You promise you’ll sleep?”

“Yes.”

You looked at the screens again before you sighed and walked over to the bed, climbing dutifully on top and placing yourself directly between his legs. Your back was to his broad chest so you could watch your work, thankful that your eyes made it possible to see even the tiniest of writing on the screen.

The Soldier sat stiffly for a moment and you had a second to fear that you’d done something wrong, but a second later his arms were wrapping around your waist and his forehead was resting against the back of your neck.

You tried to ignore your pounding heart, choosing instead to focus on the task in front of you. “This is acceptable?”

The only response you got was a quiet content noise followed by deep, even breathing.

Next Chapter

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bumblesimagines · 3 years

Text

Imagine:

Being Maria's crush and being Natalia's on and off boyfriend

Request: Yes or No

The Maria gif sucks i know but i tried my best lmao hopefully more people get into Control Z. It's a really interesting show!

Maria turned her head, watching Natalia apply on lipstick. She gently swung her legs back and forth, looking back at the light blue stalls. Natalia glanced at her, cocking a brow. She pressed her lips together, putting the lipstick in her purse.

"What?"

"Huh?" Maria looked back at her, brows raising slightly. Natalia tilted her head, fixing her headband and smoothing out her hair.

"I can tell you want to say something, Maria, so say it." Natalia shrugged, placing a hand on her waist and leaning against the sink.

"Nothing, I was just.. Are you and (Y/N) back together?" Maria asked, fingers toying with her bracelets. Natalia sighed deeply, looking back at the mirror. Her hands went to her skirt, smoothing it over.

"We've been talking." Natalia replied, shrugging as she glanced at her sister. Maria hummed lightly, licking her lips and sliding off the counter. She turned around, running her fingers through her black hair before looking at Natalia and leaving the restroom with her.

"Were you two taking a shit? You guys took forever!" Dario said, huffing lightly as the sisters rolled their eyes.

"You're disgusting, Dario." Natalia sneered, sitting down and pulling out her lunch. Maria sat beside her, doing the same. She looked around the courtyard, noticing (Y/N) chatting with Javier, the new kid. Maria slowly chewed on her salad as she watched, heart feeling heavy. She never had the guts to confess and ask him out. She didn't want to ruin her relationship with her sister.

"You know, you make it painfully obvious sometimes." Isabela whispered in her ear, giggling softly and sitting beside her. Maria's cheeks heated up, smiling softly as she looked at her friend.

"Just do it, Maria. What do you have to lose?" Isabela asked, tilting her head. Maria glanced at her sister, sighing softly and looking back at Isabela. Isabela gave her a small smile, standing.

"Come on." Maria closed her container, putting it in her back and standing. She cleaned the edges of her mouth with a napkin, throwing the napkin away and walking alongside Isabela. Isabela took her hand, pulling her towards (Y/N).

"Hey, (N/N). No lunch?" Isabela tilted her head, giving her friend a hug. (Y/N) chuckled, saying bye to Javier before facing them and shaking his head.

"Nah, I didn't have time to pack lunch. I had to do some things before school." (Y/N) explained, shrugging lightly. Maria frowned, arms crossing.

"Lunch is important, (N/N). Especially when you barely eat breakfast too." Maria told him, feeling Isabela subtly nudge him. She cleared her throat, glancing at the ground.

"If.. If you want, I can pack you lunch." Maria offered, nerves bubbling in her stomach. (Y/N)'s gaze softened, smiling.

"Mari..." He cooed, unaware on how her heart picked up at the way he said her nickname.

"You don't have to do that, Mari. I'll survive-"

"I'm fine doing it. I like cooking so this will give me a chance to work on my cooking skills." Maria shrugged. Isabela snorted softly, covering it up with a cough.

"Well, if that's what you want." (Y/N) stepped towards her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before walking away, most likely going over to Natalia and the others.

"Progress, Maria." Isabela smiled widely. Maria chuckled, rubbing her arm and letting out a shakey breath.

Gifs aren't mine.

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x male!reader #control z #control z x reader #control z x male reader #maria alexander #maria alexander x reader #maria alexander x male reader #control z maria x reader #control z maria alexander x male reader #control z natalia #control z natalia alexander x reader

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green-eyeddragonfanfiction · 6 years

Text

War of Attrition: Masterlist

On Hiatus Until April 2019

Pairing: Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes x Reader

This is the Third Book in the Winter’s War series and picks up directly after the last chapter of Ghosts of War.

Summary: Sixty-eight years. That’s how long you and Bucky Barnes spent as brainwashed assassins. Used and abused by both the KGB and Hydra, it isn’t a surprise that you both forgot your past lives as Captain America’s best friends. Of that you were married. Or that you trained Natasha Romanoff. And killed President Kennedy. Though your true consciousness may have surfaced over the years, neither organization was willing to let their most effective weapons run free. It’s even less surprising that your whole being breaks when these truths come to light and you’re forced to face the last seventy years of carnage. Who can you trust when you can’t trust your own mind?

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 // Chapter 11 // Chapter 12 // Chapter 13 // Chapter 14 // Chapter 15 // Chapter 16 // Chapter 17 // Chapter 18 // Chapter 19 // Chapter 20 // Chapter 21 // Chapter 22 // Chapter 23 // Chapter 24 // Chapter 25 // Chapter 26 // Chapter 27

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green-eyeddragonfanfiction · 6 years

Text

Ghosts of War: Chapter 21

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Reader Summary: After the events of Winter’s War, your and Bucky’s lives are changed forever (and not for the better). Severe torture and experimentation at the hands of Hydra leaves you shells of your former selves, your past together completely erased and replaced with deadly Hydra programming. You and the other Soldier continue training Natalia. Of course, all good(?) things must end and you and the young spy part on less than amicable terms. It’s back to business as usual for you and the other Soldier after that. In other words, killing for your masters. Warnings: Swearing (always), death, blood, guns, fighting, torture Word Count: ~3,055 A/N: And we’re done with Ghosts of War. It’s been... a time.

Masterlist // Book One // Book 3

Previous Chapter // Chapter 1 of Book 3: War of Attrition

“Tools don’t have names,” you said softly, eyes glued to the ground. Somehow, no matter how many times it was cleaned, some of the bloodstains simply didn’t wash out.

Natalia shrugged and nudged you gently with her shoulder. “You’re not tools, Mashenka. You’re my teachers.”

Her somewhat flippant words and the tones she spoke them in belied the affection behind the nicknames… and the fact that she gave you names in the first place.

Neither you nor the Soldier had anything to say to that.

No weaknesses, you wanted to tell her.

Instead, you sat and watched the sunset with Natalia and ate your bread.

You stood in the shadows at the foot of Natalia’s bed. She knew you were there, of course. You never really hid from her anymore unless you were trying to test her.

Natalia had passed every test you’d ever given her, though. Her body and mind were deadly weapons and woe to anyone who tried to stop her.

She glanced up at you from the spot on her bed, hands not pausing in their task of sharpening her collection of blades.

“Not that I don’t enjoy your company, but you’re not usually one to hover, Mashenka,” Natalia said quietly. Her voice cut sharply through the sound of stone against steel. She held the dagger up critically, looking for any signs of burred edges.

“I’ve told you not to sharpen your tools on your bed. You’ll end up with metal shards in your skin while you sleep,” you said dispassionately. She passed every test yet still practiced stupid habits like this one. It infuriated you.

She seemed to ignore the admonishment, though, and continued working. “I doubt you came here just to tell me that.”

No, it wasn’t everything you wanted to say. Try as you might, however, you couldn’t form the thoughts, much less the words. Every time you tried they slipped away. “You’re graduating soon.”

Natalia nodded and set one of the daggers aside, apparently satisfied with its deadliness, and picked up another. “The headmistress says I’m the most promising student she’s ever seen.” Without looking up, she added, “Probably because you and Yashenka trained me.”

You shook your head. “I trained all of the other candidates, too. It is only you that has survived to make it to this day. You are special.”

Natalia looked up at you then, her eyes cold and searching in the way that told you she was on guard and confused. It was only because of the amount of time you spent with her over the years that you spotted the scared little girl underneath. “... You shouldn’t say things like that, Mashenka,” she whispered so quietly you could barely hear it. You knew any hidden microphones wouldn’t pick up her words, not over the sound of her sharpening her blades.

She was right, of course. She was smart enough to figure out what the chair in that small room behind that steel door was for. She knew what happened when you didn’t listen to the handlers or voiced opinions of your own.

Which is why it was absolute madness that you kept talking. The moment of clarity cut through the haze of your foggy, damaged mind like one of Natalia’s knives. “Run away, Tashenka. Run. While you still can. Don’t let them touch you.”

The microphones would hear you.

They’d come for you.

You had minutes at best.

Seconds at worst.

Natalia stared at you, wide-eyed. You could tell she was looking for the hidden test in your words.

You surged forward and clasped your hands to her shoulders, ignoring the blade that she pressed lightning-fast to your neck. It bit lightly into your skin, but you barely felt it.

“Please, Natalia. Escape. Do what I cannot. You will regret staying. You will see them for what they are. Run. Please!” you pleaded, voice strangled. You could tell you were scaring her. It was the first time you’d used her name to her face. This madness could kill her by association, too, and she knew it.

She was eighteen, but still a kid. So, so young.

So much blood already on her hands.

It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t deserve it.

You could tell by the look in her eyes, though, that you hadn’t reached her. Even as she relaxed and nodded, you knew her too well for her tricks to work. You shook your head quickly, a litany of protests leaving your lips. “No, no, no, listen! you have to-”

“It’s alright, Mashenka. I understand. We can escape together. Let’s go now,” she said, removing the dagger from your neck and placing it safely in her boot.

“No, Natalia! I know what you’re doing! It won’t-” you pushed away from her, but she pounced on you, obviously trying to restrain you.

“Guards! In here! The Asset is having a break!” she yelled, voice cold and detached.

You were able to fight and keep her from getting a pin on you, but unlike Natalia you weren’t going for a disable. You didn’t want to hurt her. She needed to escape. Escape before-

Natalia’s door banged inwards and in streamed a small horde of heavily armed guards. They narrowly avoided your and Natalia’s punches and kicks and all it took was Natalia distracting you for a split second to let a guard to get a clean shot with the needle.

It plunged deep into the meat of your thigh and even as you pulled the empty syringe out you started to feel its effects. It was working too quickly. This was for the other Soldier.

“You stupid fucks gave me the wrong-”

The room faded to black around the edges.

You were unconscious before you hit the floor.

Natalia’s POV

She stared hollowly at your prone form on the cold medical table. Thick insulated metal clasps restrained your arms and legs. They’d even taken the liberty to bind your head down with a leather strap.

More tubes than Natalia wanted to bother counting were shoved in your arms. Some were red, some clear, and she subconsciously took note of what was what.

Between that and the conversation the scientists hadn’t bothered hiding, Natalia knew what was happening.

Yashenka’s serum was too unstable to duplicate, but yours wasn’t. They were taking nearly endless blood samples in an attempt to recreate it. Brute force science, but it was yielding results if the scientist’s exclamations were to be believed.

She knew she’d receive a dose when she graduated. Prolonged youth and enhanced reflexes. Even the scientists weren’t exactly sure what the full effects were, but 70 years of results were hard to argue with. Once they were reasonably sure the mental issues weren’t attached to the serum, they’d begun tests immediately in an attempt to recreate it.

“017.”

Natalia turned her attention from your unconscious form to the headmistress, who’d aged over the years, but still managed to do her hair the same way every day; a tight bun without a single hair out of place. The only difference now was the streak of grey through the dirty blond locks.

“Headmistress?” Natalia asked, voice and posture calm as ever.

“The scientists had a breakthrough. We’re going ahead with your surgery as soon as possible. Report to medical for your orders.”

Natalia bowed deeply. “By your leave, headmistress.” She could feel the woman’s beady eyes on her as she walked away, but Natalia’s mind was still back in her room less than forty-eight hours ago.

Your frantic face, full of more emotion than Natalia had ever seen. Your slightly-glowing eyes nearly brimming over with tears you didn’t notice. Your clammy hands as they grasped her shoulders.

You didn’t follow your own advice.

“No weaknesses, Mashenka,” Natalia promised, voice cold. She would be unbreakable. Not even her Yashenka and Mashenka would sway her heart.

Even though-

Natalia bit down on her tongue so hard it nearly drew blood.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before walking through the medical room’s doors. A small team of scientists and doctors were waiting for her, already prepared for surgery. Natalia was thankful they’d told her to start getting ready yesterday. She wanted to get this over as quickly as possible so she could begin serving the Motherland.

“Good morning, 017. Congratulations on making it to the last phase of the Black Widow Ops Program. Lie down on the table and we’ll begin at once.”

2009 - Outside of Odessa, Ukraine

It was mind-boggling how much Natasha’s life had changed in just the last seven years. She went from being one of the most feared [brainwashed] Russian spies in the world to an attack dog for an organization based out of the United States.

At least she was doing good now.

Said organization- SHIELD, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division- was the reason why she was in ass-end of nowhere. Well, not nowhere. Half hour outside of Odessa. But it may as well have been the ass-end of nowhere. Backup was at least a half hour away and if the people she thought were following her actually were, she’d be long dead by the time it arrived.

Natasha managed to kick the door of the upturned vehicle open, tried her best to ignore the blood dripping down her forehead and into her right eye, and clambered out.

When had this whole thing gone down the shitter? Natasha tried to piece together the moments before the crash.

Only one car, less conspicuous than a convoy. She was the best of the best at SHIELD, so backup shouldn’t have been needed. The escort mission was top secret and only Level 8s and above knew about it beside Natasha and Clint.

Country road. Little traffic. Made it easy to spot bogeys.

Pursuers out of nowhere, two motorbikes. One male, one female.

Too fast to escape.

Run off the road. Down a cliff.

Robot-like coordination. Flashes of silver and red.

Natasha was on high alert. She instantly drew her pistols, scanning the trees and the cliff above, somewhat blinded by the sun. It was purposeful, she was sure. If this was them, they never did anything without reason.

The glint of sun off a metal drew her attention and she aimed her pistols and fired without a second thought. The nuclear scientist she was protecting- a man by the name of Doctor Dean Shen- flinched and ran behind her, spooked by the fire. She was used to the lab coats running from gunfire. He was safer behind her anyway.

The figure on the ridge moved quickly, too quickly, before Natasha had even pulled the trigger. By the time the bullets reached where the shadow had been, the figure was already twenty feet away.

Natasha cursed and followed it with her line of fire.

If she had any doubts, they were quickly cast aside.

Mashenka.

Your silver and red legs glinted menacingly. The fire from the jets in your heels were two bright spots in the shade of the trees you were weaving through.

The report of a rifle rang out in the valley, but the noise barely registered because the bullet had already torn through her stomach, near her left hip.

Yashenka.

She hadn’t kept track of him. Rookie mistake. She knew how they worked. She should have known better.

The sound of something heavy dropping to the ground drew her attention and she nearly cursed when she saw Shen’s lifeless body slumped in the dirt, a bullet hole perfectly between the man’s eyes.

She clutched at the gaping hole in her stomach with one hand and held a pistol up determinedly with the other. She was trying her best to stay conscious. She wouldn’t let herself become prone, not with two ruthless predators circling her, the scent of blood in the air.

A flash on the ridge caught her attention and she pivoted and fired shots straight towards the movement. The sound of bullets meeting metal echoed through the canyon, the sound high and grating on her ears. With her pistol empty, she raised her hand to block out the worst of the sun.

You stood on the ridge, the bright sun blocking Natasha from seeing any details.

But she knew exactly what she’d see if she could. Light blue eyes, dark brown hair, metal arm. Intricate circuitry inlaid in skin, two deadly metal legs, eye ringed by glowing lights. So familiar she can almost imagine them on the almost shapeless figures on the ridge.

The two of you stood side by side, staring down at her from your perches at the edge of the rocky crevasse. Natasha could just make out a huge rifle strapped to the back of Yashenka.

She would not cower. If she went out it would be face to face with her attackers, with her trainers, the people who loved her before she knew what love was.

She closed her eyes, tilted her chin up defiantly, and waited, regret tingeing her thoughts. She’d hoped she’d find you two one day. Get you out. Put a bullet between your skulls if it meant you wouldn’t suffer anymore. Anything.

But you’d found her first. There were worse ways to go. Yashenka would make it painless. Single bullet to the brain pan.

The bullet never came, though. After a few seconds Natasha opened her eyes, squinting against the sunset.

Where you’d been a moment before was now empty space. Not even the sound of motorcycles heralded your departure.

Natasha collapsed to the ground, heart beating fast and breathing labored.

She hadn’t been your mission. You never left your missions unfinished. Whoever was using the two of you now hadn’t thought to tell you to eliminate witnesses. It was pure luck that she was alive right now.

“Tasha! Tasha? Report, damnit!”

Natasha groaned and used the last of her energy to clamber over to the upside down car and grab the SHIELD communication device out of the glove box.

“I’m here, Clint,” she said quietly.

“Report! You called for backup! What’s the situation?” he asked frantically.

“Run off the road by hostiles. Survived the crash, but they got my ward anyway. Shen is dead.”

“Shit,” Clint swore. Natasha could practically see him pacing in the rafters. “Are you hit?”

“Affirmative. Extraction would be ideal before I bleed out,” Natasha said dryly.

“Understood. Medical’s on its way along with the backup you requested. Did you identify your attackers?” Clint asked, obviously talking to other agents while on the phone with Natasha.

Natasha blew out a long breath of air, wincing as her stomach clenched painfully. Damn, that was a lot of blood. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“Just tell me, Tasha. I’m a big boy. I can handle it,” Clint argued.

“The Winter Soldiers.”

A pause, then, “Well, fuck.”

2014 - Washington D.C., United States of America

“молниеносный. Поезд. В поле зрения. Сорок один. Предсказать. путешествие. Боль. Три. защищать. империя.” Lightning. Train. Insight. Forty-one. Predict. Voyage. Pain. Three. Defend. Empire.

“Soldier?”

You stared up at him, eyes cold and brain barely functioning. “Ready to comply.”

The man with the little red book nodded. He spoke Russian with a slight accent, but the words were still quite clear. “You understand English, yes?” he asked.

You nodded and he smiled, although it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Good, that makes my life much easier. I fear my Russian is a little rusty. If you’ll be patient I think we-”

“Secretary Pierce, the other one is awake, too,” said a nervous-looking agent from the doorway. Nervousness was normal around you and the other Soldier, so you weren’t worried about the reaction.

“Good, good. Send him in. I’ll only have to give the orders once this way,” the man- Pierce- said, giving that same smile that reminded you dully of a snake.

The other Soldier was dragged in a moment later, held between two of the biggest guards you’d seen so far. You knew you’d have to be moved that way too if it came to it. The freeze hadn’t worn off yet. They practically threw him into a chair beside you and it groaned under the strain but managed to stay upright and in one piece.

“Your mission: Assassination. I know you’re used to working in the shadows, but this mission calls for the target’s immediate death. You’ll be given whatever you need, don’t worry about witnesses. Kill anyone who gets in your way, but he is your only target.”

He held a picture up and your eyes scanned the file beside it.

Fury, Nicholas J.

“Level 6 target. I want confirmation of death within ten hours of cryofreeze fatigue wearing off. He’ll be well guarded. Your best bet is to kill him when he’s traveling, but I’ll leave that for you to determine. You two are, after all, the ones with the experience here.” He set the file down on the small table in front of you and stood. “Understood?”

“Mission orders received,” the two of you responded in unison.

He smiled that dangerous smile again. “Good. I eagerly await confirmation of his death.”

He turned and left the room without another word, leaving you and the other Soldier alone with a small guard. Little boxes lined the wall and a large circular door easily clued you in to where they were keeping you: a bank vault. It was a good choice. You and the other Soldier were dangerous. It made sense to keep you somewhere safe that also had the ability to keep you contained.

An hour later you were suited and booted, both of you armed to the teeth. They spared no expense, it seemed. A mask hid the bottom half of your faces and goggles protected your eyes. They may not care about witnesses seeing you, but they seemed determined that they not be able to identify you. Even your legs and his arm were covered.

Wordlessly, you and the other Soldier left the depths of the bank, both of you wary at the sunlight and hordes of people on the street. The comms in your ears chattered incessantly about the status of your target.

You glanced to the other Soldier who turned to you as if out of reflex. You shared an almost imperceptible nod and slipped into the shadows.

End of Book Two of Winter’s War, Ghosts of War.

Book Three, War of Attrition: Chapter 1

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