#cop!reader

You wake up at the back of a van.

As your body tries to get used to the heavy-duty vehicle rattling through the worst road you've ever felt in your life, you wonder, ‘how did your life get to this?’ You, a young and bright-eyed sub-inspector whose ‘honesty’ (read: stupidity) got them transferred to some backwater town in Northwestern India. You. You.

The truck gives a jerk and your brain fog clears a bit more. The memories are coming back now. It was a lorry, you believe. A lorry you had stopped at the road-barrier when it almost passed unchecked through the solitary highway. There was a symbol on it, which the other officers kept calling ‘seal’ with a trembling voice. A demon, or something? You can't remember. The air in this van is terrible, they should check the ventilation for faults.

…In hindsight, it's probably a carrier for meat. It smells like it. You suppress a gag, trying to pull your hand up to cover your mouth. Which failed, because both your hands, curled into fists in zipties, came and hits you straight on your lip.

“Ough.” You articulate.

There's some commotion at the front, where—you assume—the driver is seated. The words sound something like ‘...finally awake...see what it means...stop the seal...'. You don't know what that means. It's a seal. The presiding officer had quaked out something about ‘i-i-if we even n-name this p-p-place, t-they will kill us’. The truck gives another jerk, harder this time, and you, with your throbbing head, passed out.

—-—-—

You wake up in an ashen, dust-covered cell. The iron bars in front of you are covered in rust. One cut and it's over for you. You look down and check your arms. No cuts, thank god, but the zipties have been replaced by large, black metal shackles. The metal is cold and presses harshly against your wrists. Your eyes follow the thick chains to a large pillar behind you, looped in such a way that you can't shimmy out of it.

—-—-—

Two bulky guards with huge septum rings and dense beards come in and drag you out of the cell by your shoulders after seven hours of you passing in and out of consciousness. They look like bulls.

“Where are you taking me?” You ask, not quite feeling your best as the backs of your (noticeably bare) feet scraped against the rough stone floors. You're being dragged through what looks like a very big fortress, with candelabras lighting up the dark hallways. The walls are charcoal black, the curtains are charcoal black and the floors are—you’re never going to believe what.

He just sits there, staring at the one way glass, wouldn't surprise me if he knew someone was watching him through it. The smirk on his face perfectly matching the tough and charismatic Mafia Lord. His black hair frames his face and his blue eyes sparkle with amusement as he looks at the handcuffs strapped to his wrists.

"Should we go in and start questioning him?" I ask, turning my head to look at my partner. Brock Rumlow was first assigned to me when I joined the force. To be honest he doesn't seem to be the nicest of guys, our relationship never going above acquaintance.

He shakes his black hair, looking at Barnes in the chair. "There is no need, we all know what he is guilty of," He says, looking at me now with his same cold look.

"We need to follow procedure, despite us knowing what he did Brock," I mumble as I turn, walking over to the interrogation room door and stepping inside shutting it behind me.

James remains quiet, his eyes trailing over me before looking directly into my eyes. It makes me feel as if I am be scrutinized, looked at through a microscope finding my flaws and weaknesses.

"You know why you are here Mr. Barnes?" I ask, moving the folder in my hands to toss them onto the metal table, walking over to the chair in front of him and sitting down.

He continues to stare, hardly blinking and not speaking at all.

"What is with the quietness?" I ask again, tilting my head to the side, "Last I heard you were quite the talker, very confident in your ability to get out of situations like this, yet you actually got caught this time."

A slow forming grin tilts his lips up at the edges, amusement flickering in his eyes at my try of pushing his ego. He simply shrugs his shoulders remaining quiet and impassive.

"They have one thing true then in their reports," I say, taking the folder on the table and opening it to move a few of the papers to the side, "Infuriating to say the least. Ah, first death was the father of your best friend, Steven Rogers. Was that what started it all? Sent you down the rabbit hole? I heard you were both good boys, before you both turned bad."

James's face becomes emotionless as I speak, a scowl replacing the grin on his face. I struck a nerve, using the little tap at his past and his relations he has. In the beginning James and Steve were supposedly friends, til one day police had found Steve's father in a pool of blood in their old apartment, with no signs of forced entry the officers tried to question the two but they had disappeared.

"Classic story you know, but I do wanna know first why'd you kill him? Did he do something? Hit you or steve? Touch you inappropriately?" I ask, placing the folder on the table, speaking in a voice as innocently as I can.

A sudden snarls rips through his chest as he looks at the folder finally speaking, "You know nothing."

"Ah he does speak. If I know nothing, then why don't you tell me?"

He looks up at me, his face cooling down to his previous look, "That would be to easy for you Doll, and you know it. Though you could work for it."

I frown at his grin, "Mr. Barnes I-"

He cuts me off with a roll of his eyes, "That was my father, call me Bucky."

"James then, now, you are going to be charged with over ten accounts of murder, lord knows as many in theft," I list them off pulling out a paper from the stack in the folder. "Do you get what I'm saying? Your going away for life."

"I doubt that Doll, but please, do try your hardest to lock me away," He says, grinning as he opens his arms the best he can with the handcuffs.

Turns out he was right, a few days after the trial was set, he was being moved to court when the armored van was ambushed. No one was killed, but he escaped. Weeks passed and we tried multiple times to find him, but with the recent capture he seemed to be lying low for a while.

It was my day off, I was lounging in plaid baggy pajama pants and a loose t-shirt, flipping through the channels absently when I got a phone call. My phone rang on the coffee table, it was weird cause I usually never got any calls unless it was from Sam Wilson, one of my superiors and a close friend of mine.

I leaned forward picking up the phone and sliding the green button, answering it, "Hello?"

A deep male voice speaks from the phone, I do not recognize the voice, "Is this [Y/n] [L/n]?"

"Uh, this is she?" I say hesitantly, frowning as I stand up from the couch putting the remote on the table.

“After I hang up open the door and you should find a box and a letter, Good day miss [L/n].” After speaking the line goes dead, and I pull the phone away looking down at it and glancing over to the door.

I place the phone on the table, stepping around it and taking the spare pistol from underneath the table that holds my keys. I pull back the hammer back and cautiously unlock the door and slowly open it. Glancing around, no one is in the hallway, the apartment building not usually this quiet but then again it is the middle of a work day. A box catches my attention right in front of the door, with a black envelope on top of it. Reaching down I pick them both up and close the door, pushing the hammer back as I walk over to the couch.

After sitting down I took the envelope and opened it. Inside was a letter of sorts written in golden ink that reads, “I hope that you find this pleasing, you intrigued me. -James Barnes.”

I frowned and put the envelope to the side opening the box to see what is inside. My eyes widen as my gaze lands on a beautiful diamond necklace, the diamonds connected by golden braids. Lifting my hand I pick up the necklace as gently as I can, looking from diamond to diamond. It’s clearly expensive, but it also looks like an antique.

I shake my head but place the necklace in the box, standing and taking it to my bedroom where I sit it on my dresser. Why would he give me a gift after I was the reason he was captured in the first place? My mind was buzzing with thoughts, but I silenced them walking back into the living room to resume watching the tv.

The next time I receive another gift, was after I had a tough day at work. I ended up getting shot at a robbery at a grocery store. So I was on bed rest for the next week, waiting for my torso to heal. I got the call shortly after I had ate my lunch, I walked over to my phone and answered it. “Hello?”

“It’s me again, there is another gift at your door,” The male voice from before answers.

Before he hangs up though I quickly ask, “Who are you?”

“You do not know me miss,” Is the answer I get before he hangs up. There's a knock at the door as I walk over and put my phone in my pocket, unlocking the door and looking around the empty hallway to find another box with a black envelope on top just like the other one. I pick it up and walk over to the couch, shutting the door behind me.

Inside the envelope was another message, “Saw what the bastard did in the grocery store, took care of him, -James Barnes.”

A frown appears on my face, as I lift the lid and look inside the box seeing a picture with a man tied to a chair, blood sliding down his cheek from a wound to his head. He looks tortured, but also dead. I look to the side looking at a wad of money next to another note, “Get you something nice, I want to meet you at the Club a mile from your place. Make sure to come alone, don’t want to have to kill any of your fellow officers. -J.B”

After that night I actually went out and bought me a dress, went to a store not far from my apartment and bought me a red one that fell to my feet and hugged my figure. There was another note telling me a time and what day to meet him. It was that day, so I had slipped on the dress and the necklace with some heels from my closet that I usually never wore.

Opening the door to my apartment I headed down the hallway, carefully lifting my dress to walk down the steps and out the lobby to the street. I walk down the street passing people on their way home or to another bar or club. Soon before I know it I walk up to the club, showing my ID before walking into the place with thumping music blasting through the speakers.

The air is full of smoke and the smell of sweaty bodys just hangs in the air, lights flash around and everyone is just dancing. Pole dancers swing around a pole from their stages, dressed in skimpy outfits and bartenders hand out drinks left and right. It all looks normal, but I know the ruse. This is used an a hideaway for drugs and Mafia’s.

I glance around looking for that head of brown hair the mafia lord has but find none among the entangled bodies. So I shrug and make my way to the bar, at least I can enjoy myself. I call the bartender asking for a bourbon receiving a weird look for my taste in drink. Once he’s done I take a sip of it, licking my lips at the taste. Most always ask why I drink it but I can’t drink nothing else without gagging, call it my Irish lineage or something.

Turning around to face the crowd I watch an people dance, make out, and do all sorts of things. Though you couldn’t call grinding your butt on someone dancing. I take my time to scan the faces, looking at them all have fun. A cleared throat from my left causes me to turn my head and I am met with the sight of Barnes standing there with a smirk on his lips.

His eyes seem to glow in the flashing lights, his black suit making his masculine figure stand out. His hand rests on the bar next to my elbow, his eyes roaming over my body.

“Never thought you’d show up doll,” He says, tilting his head to the side as he looks at me.

“Well, I.. I thought I would enjoy myself for a change,” I say, biting my lip and scooting a bit away from him.

“Don’t tell me your scared now. Where is that fiery policewoman I met back at the station,” He asks, grinning as he leans forward.

I say nothing, just staring at him an he steps into my personal space. Though I hear the deep chuckle and he takes my arm gently, and leads me towards the stairs. “C’mon, I never ask anyone to this place without a reason,” He says as we walk.

“And what would that reason be Barnes,” I ask, glancing around as we head upwards.

“For the love of-- Call me Bucky,” He turns suddenly looking at me, “I like being called Bucky better than my other names Doll.”

I gulp but nod and he smirks continuing up the steps with me trailing behind him. He leads me to one of the private rooms, closing the door after tossing one of the bouncers some cash.

“Now that we’re alone. I wanted to congratulate you for being the first one to ever catch me,” He says, pouring himself a drink and sitting on the couch. “I never would have thought a cop could have ever caught me, yet you did.”

I just stand there, staring at him biting my lip as his eyes trail up and down my figure again.

“You do dress up nice doll,” He says, lifting his drink towards me. “It's good to see you wore my mother's necklace too, looks ravishing on you.”

My eyes widen at the realization and I place a hand over the necklace, “Y-your mother’s?”  

Bucky nods, taking a long sip from his drink, before he stands placing the cup on the table and walking over to where I stand not removing his gaze from mine, “It looks amazing on you doll, you wear it well.”

Warmth floods my cheeks, from the alcohol or the compliment I have no clue, but he moves leaning down to press his lips to mine. His lips are rough but gentle, causing me to almost stumble back. He catches me before I do, pulling me close as our lips move together, I surprise myself and not pull away relaying the kiss back. He’s intoxicating and I don’t know if I can stop.

In the past few weeks of him sending me gifts, talking to me through envelopes I had developed a sort of love for the man. It startles me to say the least, he’s a mafia lord, known to kill anyone who gets in his way. Turns out I caught his eye and he doesn’t plan on letting me go anytime soon.

Months after our shared kiss, we had been meeting in secret locations, mainly in bars or different clubs. We’d drink, talk and get to know one another. After a while he would meet me back at my place, we’d talk some more. Sometimes we’d kiss and it would lead to more things than I ever intended, but I enjoyed it.

When things started going downhill, we were on the brink of getting caught, we had many run ins of my team, always a step closer to catching us. So we started meeting in abandoned places. I made the mistake though, to go without changing out of my uniform. My partner had followed me this time.

Me and Bucky were talking in one of the abandoned rooms, I was snuggled up to his side my clothes scattered around as we talked. He got a perimeter breach from one of his men, it caused us to scramble up to put our clothes on quickly. Just an we finished dressing the door was kicked in and Brock was standing in the door way.

“I thought you were up to something [Y/n],” He says, aiming his gun at me, keeping his eyes on Bucky though. “Though I did expect it, you were a horrible cop [Y/n].”

“Brock put the gun down,” I say, moving my hand to put it on my gun holster.

“Move one more time and I kill you both,” He snarls out, pulling back the hammer of the gun.

I glance back at Bucky who suddenly steps forward, and just an Brock says he fires, the bullet slamming into Bucky’s side. Before I can even blink I shove forward and knock Brock into the bathroom, quickly closing the door.

“Bucky, you must leave now,” I say, scrambling over and helping him up from the ground.

He keeps a hand on his side, blood seeping from the wound, “I can’t leave you.”

“Bucky, you must. You need to get your side checked out. I can handle him, go please,” I plead, leading him to the door. “I’ll be out right after you I promise.”

“Don’t make me wait,” He says, reaching for his phone to call someone as he staggers away reluctantly.

I watch him walk away, before turning an the door is kicked down.

Bucky POV

It’s been over an hour and my worry has only increased. I never should have kissed her at the club, this life isn’t for her it's to dangerous. As I stare at the building Steve, my right hand man patches up my side, drawing a wince from my.

“Sorry, but this is the best I can do til we get you some real help Buck,” He says, putting his stuff in the back seat of his car.

I nod but continue to watch the building, worrying my lip between my teeth. I wait, my eyes darting to anything that moves beyond the curtains, on the floor we were in the glass seems to shudder a few gunshots ring out and all falls quiet.

The city buzzes around us but the building makes no other sounds. Steve fidgets in his seat before speaking up, “Buck the police would have heard the shots, we must go.”

“Not yet Steve,” I snap back at him, my knuckles white from holding onto the door so tightly. We both wait for about another hour til a figure stumbles out of the  building.

[Y/n] steps out clutching her side, it bleeding heavily and trailing down her fingers. I quickly push the door open and job over picking her up quickly.

“I-.. I killed him. Bucky, I killed him,” She cries, hiding her face as she sobs into my shirt. I carry her over to the car, quickly hopping into the back seat an blue flashing lights turn onto the street. Steve speeds into the road, quickly driving off and throwing off any of the police that follow us.

“I’m sorry, I never wanted this for you, “I say, looking down at her. She turns her head to look up at me, tears streaming down her face.

“It’s not your fault… I knew.. What I was getting into when I kissed you..” She says, sniffing into her uniform sleeve. I let her cry, not caring that i makes my shirt wet with tears. Steve continues driving till we reach the safe house just outside of New York.

I rush her in, Natasha opening the door for us as Steve leads the way. He calls for Bruce an I set [Y/n] down on the couch near the wall. Bruce rushes in a second later, his medical supplies in his arms as he kneels down and rips away at her uniform. Once she was stabled Bruce patched up my side, I kept near her till she woke up. When she did, her face was pale and she wasn’t there. Her eyes were distant.

Later that night we talked about it, she was scared, she had nightmares. I helped her through them the best I could. Over time though she calmed down enough to get to sleep.

------

[Y/n] POV

It was a few years after Brock’s death that I got over it. He was a bad man, Bucky showed me who he actually was. Turns out that Brock was keeping tabs on the police for a rival of Bucky’s. I was found missing at the scene, I never showed up again. My family knows the truth but I told them not to tell anyone.

Today though is a big day, Bucky asked me not to long ago if I would like to rule over his Mafia with him. I said yes. So we are currently getting ready. Me standing there in front of the mirror as he buttons up the back of my dress for me. It hangs low to the floor, shimmering a faint red from the crystals that dot the dress from top to bottom.

“You ready doll?” He asks, pressing a kiss to my cheek once he’s done. He then walks over towards the doors and holds a hand out towards me.

I never thought this day would come, me a once cop becoming the queen of a mafia empire. It still surprises me even as I say it now, it still excites me.

How I wish I told a different tale…

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I take his hand and he leads me to a better future.

You studied him for a moment longer as he just smiled at you, as if he couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be than cuffed to the table in your interrogation room.

“Let’s talk about facts instead of conspiracy theories for a minute.” Those pink lips of his pouted contemplatively, then he shrugged and nodded for you to continue.

“I’ve got a witness that puts you and your brother breaking into the house of one of my victims the day after she was murdered. I’ve got your car, filled with a ridiculous amount of weaponry and assorted other insane things. I’ve got three homicides looking for a home, and I’ve got this,” you tapped the file with his name on it, “which doesn’t exactly paint you in the most innocent of lights.”

“Oh yeah, I bet that’s a good read.” He winked at you. Actually winked at you.

Who was this guy?

You smiled back, playing along. “Oh yeah, a real page turner. Quite a few plot holes and unanswered questions though—apparently you’ve been dead at least twice now,” he chuckled, rolling his eyes in a way that implied you were missing something, “and you’ve been arrested, what—8 other times?”

He squinted, “Twelve, I think. Kinda hard to keep count.”

You nodded, pretending that statement was completely reasonable.

“Well you say you hunt monsters. So do I. The only kind of monster that’s real—a disturbed human monster. And this particular monster is guilty of killing three women and cutting them open to take their livers, probably for some kind of ritual or sale on the black market. And, the most important fact of all--my evidence points directly at you.”

Dean Winchester leaned forward, shaking his head, “don’t get me wrong. I’ve seen people do some twisted, crazy, horrible things. I’ve seen people become monsters. And I’ve got full respect for you and your job trying to keep everyone else safe from them.

“But that’s not the monster I mean. And that’s not the monster that’s been hunting your town.”

You leaned back, trying to decide if the earnestness you were reading from him really meant the guy was insane. He wasn’t your usual drunk, raving lunatic; you hadn’t noticed any lying tics, and his and his brother’s name, which he’d offered voluntarily had checked out.

“I’ve been straight with you, because I know you’re going to get to the point where you see something that makes you believe me, in which case, you’ll need my help. And because if I don’t, since you’re good at your job, you’ll go head to head with this thing unprepared and it’ll be your liver it takes. I’m in the business of saving people as well as hunting things, so I’ll take the new line on the record for you.”

He waited a moment for you to digest this, and you found yourself interested in spite of the logical part of you that wanted to go ahead and draw up the paperwork for a psych eval.

“I’ve hunted one of these before, in ‘03. Only once though—and I’ve been hunting my whole life. Your monster is so rare, I don’t even know what his name might be. I just know what he does.

“He, or she, was human. Something happened—I don’t know what. A bite, a spell, something.

“And then it was no longer human. Looks human, walks human, talks human—but a human can’t tear an oak door off the frame of a house in one pull like the house you pulled Sam and me out of. A human can’t reach into a person’s body with its bare hand and rip out someone’s liver.

“And a human wouldn’t sit beside the victim as he or she goes into shock, bleeds out, and gasps for air, dying slowly. This monster, that used to be human, sits there and eats its victim’s liver.”

He’d lost his cocky attitude. His face was grim, his eyes haunted, and if he was acting, the man deserved an Oscar because it was the best performance you’d ever seen. Every cop instinct you had said that he was telling the truth, or that he believed he was anyway.

His voice was quiet, intense. “The longer you sit here with me, keeping my brother and me away from this hunt, the more likely it is that you’re going to lose someone else in this town.”

You’d had all you could take—the hairs were standing up on your arms. He was getting to you. You stood up without saying anything, heading for the door.

“Detective Y/N.”

Your hand on the knob of the door, you turned, eyebrow raised.

“I’m sorry.”

You could tell it wasn’t a confession.

“I’m sorry this thing came to your town… and, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I told you the truth about it. Once you know the shadows that go bump in the night are real…it makes the darkness in the world a lot darker.”

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