Late To The Party

Late To The Party

{Part Three}

Steve Rogers x Reader (slow burn)

Summary: You just want to do your job which included, but was not limited to, espionage, assassination, and babysitting a certain Super Soldier. Becoming an Avenger was never in the plan, but really why should you be surprised life was giving you the middle finger, it’d been doing that since the day you were born. Starts before The Avengers.

Warnings: language, fluff, slow burn

A/N: This is a story formerly about an OC. I plan to switch around to read as a reader insert, but she still has a name other people call her by. I have about 30 or so chapters already written and need to edit them up. The story starts a little while before The Avengers and will run through all the films :). This is a slow burn fic!

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The Avengers — Part One

You race down the streets of Venice, dodging tourists and locals alike as you chase after Morozov who was doing his damnedest to get away from you. He had been completely dark for almost seven months, untraceable and unattainable, complete radio silence. It was almost as if he had never existed in the first place.

Except he had, and he’d tried to kill you, which you weren’t very happy about.  You had been tracking Mikhail Morozov for the better part of a year, and finally, after months, you had found him.

You gain some ground on him, if you reached out you could probably grab the hood of his coat, but you wait, knowing that a stumble at this point could set you too far behind.

Your earpiece pings with the crackle of radio.

“James I need you to come in.” After being alone for a year, with hardly any contact from SHIELD, the sound of your earpiece finally coming to life was actually sort of comforting. But you didn’t need comfort right now, you needed justice and you growl unintentionally.

“Bit busy right now Coulson.” Your voice was raspy and deep as you levelled it to sound understandable as you continue sprinting.

“I know, we have eyes on you, but we need you to come now.” You hurdle over a fallen stall that Morozov had thrown down but keep going, barely missing a passerby.

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