caplanbuckybarnes

[caplanbuckybarnes]

A Cruel & Painful Fate

Summary: To hate is to love.

Word Count: 1.1K

Warnings: swearing, enemies to lovers, soulmate au

A/N: please don’t let this flop 🥴 wrote this years ago on an old blog, along with deferral other old fics and drabbles I totally forgot about. Prepare for a bunch of random tags and postings over the next few weeks.

“Ugh!” you groaned as you tossed and turned in your sleep. You were damned annoyed. Your asshole of a neighbor wouldn’t stop playing his shitty music at all, even though it was nearing one in the damned morning. You hated Anthony Stark since he moved in last year with his parents. He was a rude and obnoxious ass hat who seemed to have no respect for anyone, not even himself.

Anthony Stark may have been attractive. But he sure was one big cunt of a person. He constantly banged around his own house while his parents stayed working long weeks, leaving him home alone a majority of his teenage years. He constantly held house parties during the weekend, always resulting in the police arriving at his doorstep to shut it down. You were fairly certain the police department knew him personally by this point.

He was a selfish prick. He held his nose high. He strutted down the street as if he owned the city. He demanded respect. His very breath smells of cologne. You had assumed on numerous occasions that he swallowed the liquid in the mornings before he strut off in his expensive cars and arrived at school an hour late every day.

He was popular, yet everyone hated him. He was the star quarterback of the football team. He was the star player in lacrosse. He was practically an olympic swimmer. He was too selfish for his own good. He flirted with the teachers, no matter if they were male or female. Some students assumed he was secretly homosexual, but you never cared to know the truth in those rumors.

You hated Anthony fucking Stark and wished to hell and back that he would die a painful death.

Graduation day, he rigged the school’s speakers so instead of blaring out the national anthem, the audio blurted out some foreign metal music, scaring the parents and teachers alike. Some students laughed and sung along. Others were pissed at his antics.

Guess which side you were on?

A few years after graduation and Tony seemed to mature just the slightest. He took a job at a mechanic shop in town, oftentimes bringing home the vehicle after hours to continue working on them. Often times, you’d hear him late at night revving an engine or see the reflection of his garage through your window.

He’d grown into a somewhat respectable man, but you could never give in to his good looks, even during the summer time when he’d sit out in his garage and fix up old cars or motorcycles for the young men that paid him hefty amounts.

You wouldn’t give in.

You sat up in your bed before throwing the duvet away from you and storming over to your window and lifting it up before glaring at Tony’s bedroom window. You saw him playing air guitar to whatever the hell music he was listening to from his bedroom. You bent low and picked up an old shoe before throwing it across the lawn at his window. The thumping noise made him glance up and throw you a bright smile, though you grimaced in response even as he turned down the volume of his radio.

That night was the last night you heard from him for a week. It was too quiet over at his house. You’d curiously glance at his window as you worked on your college school work, never seeing him appear, never hearing the obnoxious music. You'd catch yourself listening intently for any type of noise coming from his house.

You’d never admit it out loud to anyone, but you’d grown accustomed to the noisy neighbor.

It was a Friday, his parents came home. They looked a lot older than what you had remembered them looking like when you were in school.

You’d graduated high school, then college.

Still, silence.

Then one afternoon, it was your birthday. You were celebrating by yourself, due to having to cram for some dumb exam that had you stressed out beyond belief. You felt a tightening in your chest. You could hardly breath. It felt as though a knife was ripping apart your chest. Your arm became numb.

You tried your damndest to remain calm and call for an ambulance. Something was deathly wrong. You assumed it was merely a severe anxiety attack. But once you arrived at the hospital, you knew something more was wrong.

You had overheard one of the nurses whispering as you pretended to be asleep. Another person was in the hospital with the exact same conditions as yourself. You rolled your eyes and prepared for the worst. You always heard about soul mates and going through a tough metamorphosis in order to realise how deeply connected the pair of you were. You only hoped your soulmate was someone worth your time and energy.

Three days you spent in the hospital, always hearing the whispers of the strange circumstances of your visit. You never knew who this other person had been.

Until one morning, you awaken with a beating heart, needles seemingly going through your arms all at once, though you knew nothing was happening. You wanted to scream in agony. You wanted-

Just as quickly as the pain had come, it ceased. You had no idea what the hell was going on. Two weeks spent in the hospital and you were granted permission to walk the halls. Three minutes into exploring the barren white halls, you came face to face with none other than the asshole of the hour, Anthony Stark.

He seemed just as surprised as you when you had bumped into one another. “Y/N, what the hell are you doing here?” He asked.

“Chest pains on and off for a while; they wont stop.” You explained, not liking the ghostly whiteness his face displayed. “What, Stark?”

“When did the pains start up?” He asked, looking your body up and down for a moment before shuffling on his feet.

“My birthday.” you responded cooly.

“Funny,” he scoffed. “That’s exactly when-”

“Don’t fucking say it.” You ordered, predicting his words, not giving it a second thought.

“The doc’s won’t stop talking to me about this girl with the exact same heart problems as me.” He revealed. “There’s no fucking way this is happening right now.”

“When we get out of here, you’re dead to me.”

“That’s not possible and you know it.” He smirked arrogantly as he surveyed your body once more. “Well, at least we know why we tortured each other all our lives.”

“Fuck off, Stark.” Though you held a sly smile on your face.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

[caplanbuckybarnes]

House of the Dragon Official Season 2 Green Trailer

#hotd #house of the dragon

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Three Words Challenge

I’ve decided to do something sort of different with this challenge, something I haven’t yet seen. It’s your usual “sentence prompt challenge,” however, the prompts are only three words long. I didn’t realize how hard it would be at first when I originally thought of this challenge, but holy hell was I wrong for it lol. Well, hope you all enjoy!

Rules are as follows;

I would just like a reblog of this post, please. It would help get more people involved.

You really don’t have to follow, but it’s always appreciated.

Send me an ask with your prompt & character preference. If I do not respond within 24 hours please message me with your prompts

Marvel Characters only, please

For this challenge, any character from marvel, mcu is allowed.

Please no underage smut.

No RPFs please

If you manage to write smut or a dark fic, tag accordingly in your authors note before the fic.

The challenge does not have a due date! So feel free to take as long as needed!

Tag properly

please use *read more* feature if fic is more than 400 words.

Tag #threewordsforcaplan in hash tags please

prompts are below the cut

“Respect your king!”

“I’m no peasant!”

“You’re a liar!”

“Don’t bite me!”

“Don’t marry him!”

“Help me, please!”

“Cool with me.”

“I hate you.”

“Don’t marry her!”

“I love you.”

“Your hand, now.”

“Commit to me.”

“Did they die?”

“But why me?”

“What about us?”

“Please don’t panic.”

“Come for me.”

"Marry me, please?"

“What about you?”

“I challenge you!”

“Forever and always.”

“Not with you.”

“You die tonight.”

“Are you mine?”

“Call the boss.”

“Stay with me.”

“But why now?”

“Where’s the car?”

“Don’t hurt me!”

“Oh, my god!”

“I never was.”

“Don’t do it.”

“Dance with me.”

“Come with me.”

“Reap your blessings.”

“Take that chance.”

"Save him, please!"

“Let’s just dance.”

“I trust you.”

“Who are you?”

“Aren’t you relived?”

“Please, save me!”

"Call them, now!"

“But you died!”

“Please, don’t go.”

“Get lost, creep.”

“Are you hurt?”

"Save her, please!"

"One of them?"

"I can't leave!"

"Chain her up."

“She escaped? How?”

"Are you good?"

“Are you okay?”

“You’re divorcing me?”

“Can we dance?”

“Please, have mercy!”

“Where are you?”

“He’s dead now.”

“But you’re mine.”

“What about us?”

“Don’t look back.”

"Leave him be."

“Keep looking here.”

“Bless the almighty.”

“Go to bed.”

“But you’re dead!”

“I trusted you!”

“I killed you!”

“She belongs here.”

“She’s dead now.”

[caplanbuckybarnes]

The war will be fought, many will die, and the victor will eventually ascend the throne.

#hotd #house of the dragon

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Wanda Maximoff Avengers: Infinity War (2018) — dir. Anthony & Joe Russo

[caplanbuckybarnes]

PLEASE!! I need fics rec for all of these! Especially the Convict. Please be multi Chapter fics.

It even can be Steve in these situations instead of Bucky I don’t mind.

*Photos From Pinterest

I’m currently reading Blood Moon Rising on AO3 by Sarahyellow.

It’s a A/B/O prison story where Bucky’s the convict and pre serum Steve is the prison counselor…I think. A riot breaks out and Bucky takes Steve hostage. 5/8 Chapters are up so far.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

[caplanbuckybarnes]

3 Times I Seen Him

Summary: See title above.

Word Count: 679

Warnings: mentions of blood & gore, death

Pairing: TWS!Bucky x Reader

The first time you caught sight of him, he had been strutting down the corridor with a guard hovering over him, cautious and alert for any sign of swift movement. The pair were speaking in a foreign language you’d yet to understand. The soldier’s face was stoic, his stride thick and heavy, his military boots resonating off the walls around you. On his chest, bullet holes littered the fabric, courtesy of a previous mission. You’d only been working in the facility for a few months before this day.

Keep reading

[caplanbuckybarnes]

I got a game for y’all; send me a gif and I’ll write a small Drabble that goes along with the Drabble.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

The Amara arc. I just did not like that, at all. I did not like Amara, I did not like the way she preyed on Dean, and don't think she was a major contribution to the show.

Anyway, she's the pretext for Sam, here, to tell his big brother he loves him, without telling him he loves him.

Dean understands. Look at his face.

#supernatural #spn #sam winchester

[caplanbuckybarnes]

CHRIS EVANS AS ARI LEVINSON ➔ THE RED SEA DIVING RESORT

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Kill of the moment

Summary: Clint would do anything to make you feel safe

Pairing: mafia lord Clint Barton x female reader

Warnings: sexual content, flirting, mafia au, poker

You licked your lips as you felt his lips caressing the skin of your throat. “Clint,” you nearly moaned out before carding your hands through his hair and tugging gently to try and pry his mouth away from you. “It’s your turn baby.”

“These fuckers can wait, darlin’,” he mumbled against your against, one hand gripping your ass tightly, the other holding his cards in his hand. “You know you’re mine, right now. All mine.”

You chuckled with a soft roll of your eyes. Someone must have been trying to get an eyeful of your body. Your husband only ever acted so aggressively with you when he had caught someone trying to get a sneaky look at you or up your skirt. Whomever Clint had caught in the act was in for a total beating after the poker game was finished and the crowd surrounding his table had diminished. “Who is it this time, love?” you mumbled as you carded your hands through his hair. “What asshole would be foolish enough to check out a king’s wife without so much as a disregard for their own life?”

“I’m not too sure,” he mumbled against the material of the dress on your shoulder. “But there’s a man by the bar; I’ve been watching him. He’s new to this city. I’ve never seen him before. He’s been glancing this way for the last few minutes. Tell me if that would please my queen, if I handled him the way a king should handle their enemy?” He asked as he lifted his head and searched your face for any negative thoughts, any declination of his offering.

“Nothing would please your queen more, my love.” you pecked his lips and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear before kissing him on the lips hard and deep for a long moment as poker chips were thrown into the middle of the table. A moment later, Clint took a fold and excused himself from the table as he’d finally caught sight of the man that had been eyeing you up all night. He tapped your thigh and you stood up away from him, a light smirk pleasuring your lips.

He fixed his suit jacket before kissing your temple and skirting around you to glide over to the bar with grace. You turned around and watched him with joy filling your eyes as you sipped from your cocktail glass. The scene in front of you caused several heads to turn; the look of pure anger on Clint’s face was enough to have alley cats zipping away in fear.

You leaned your back against the poker table as Clint stepped up to a random bar patron; an older gentleman by the looks of it. He seemed too cocky for your taste, causing a concerned grimace to put a frown on your face as Clint’s calm demeanor diminished rapidly. A pointed look towards you for approval and once you had nodded, Clint gripped the man by the back of the head and slammed his face against the glass counter, causing it to shatter away in pieces on the carpeted floor along with the bar goer’s drinks as well.

Clint had built this casino for you when you had married a few years ago. You treasured it beyond anything he had ever done for you. You loved the money, the drugs, the alcohol that passed through the place every day. Business boomed, never having a dull day. Bar fights were common. Thieves were seldom. Respect was demanded by everyone that worked for your husband. He’d allow violence from the workers if they had felt even the slightest of offended- which hardly happened due to Clint’s reputation around the city.

Bodies were a constant trash pile in the dumpsters behind the club. Clint killed so many poor souls, it’s a miracle that he still felt anything but rage at this point in his life. But you, you were the reason he felt human at all. You were the reason he hadn’t gone over the edge of life yet. And for that, he was grateful. You meant everything to him and he would kill in order to prove that to anyone who so much as questioned his faith and loyalty to you. Clint didn’t tolerate assholes who disrespected his queen. He didn’t feel appreciated when some thug on the street had whistled to you, calling you out as if you were a dog being called to his owner. You were a human being and Clint would kill anyone who didn’t think that of you.

You adored his devotion to you. You adored how much he had protected you. You admired how skillful he was with a gun in his hand. You loved this man with every fiber of your being. You dedicated your life to him, and he to you.

You watched with intense eyes as Clint exchanged several words with the man, smiling, occasionally looking over his shoulder at you as the man did the same, even as blood trickled from his temple where shards of glass stuck out in odd angles. You hid a smirk behind the cocktail glass as Clint had suddenly grabbed the poor old man by the back of the neck and slammed his face against the bar top yet again, shattering the bar into pieces. He slammed the man’s head a few more times before standing up and casually fixing his tie on the way back over to you, bloody shirt and all.

“No more peeping tom, doll face.” He smirked, pulling you tightly to his body as he snapped his fingers to grab the attention of his henchmen. “Fellas, there’s a spill on the bar that needs to be wiped down. Do you mind?” He kissed you as two men strolled by him to dispose of the body.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

A friend sent it to me and I think many of us are like this hahahahaha

[caplanbuckybarnes]

𝐖𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫- 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧, 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒𝟔𝟐𝟖

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐑𝐚𝐩𝐞/𝐍𝐨𝐧-𝐂𝐨𝐧/𝐃𝐮𝐛-𝐂𝐨𝐧. 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. 𝐔𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 (𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧) 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 :( 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔!

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐀𝐔! 𝐈'𝐦 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤!

𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 @suzs-fic-library 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

You don’t know how long it’s been, maybe days, possibly weeks, but your box was becoming stifling. You weren’t allowed out of it very often, mostly during the dead of night when Bucky would pull you from it to make you walk, eat, and go to the bathroom, before forcing you back into it, 

“I don’t have time for your arguing, Baby, get in the fucking box so we don’t get caught and you won’t get taken away from me again.”

This was the third time since Bucky had paid his way onto a cargo ship bound god knows where that you’d quietly begged him to let you stay out with him. Before that it had been a plane of some kind, and before that it was when he had sped his bike through the miles and miles of nothing after killing Steve Rogers for you. You figured that he was taking you out of the country, and that he was trying to keep you hidden and safe, but he wouldn’t talk to you, he wouldn’t look at you, in fact Bucky would barely even touch you-

“Get in!” Bucky apparently grew tired of you stalling, and picked you up like you weighed nothing before putting you back inside the box on your back, his metal hand firm on your chest when you automatically tried to sit back up, “Stop it, Baby! You have no idea how hard I’m working to keep you safe and under the radar right now, you’re so ungrateful-”

“I’m not, I just want-”

“This isn’t about what you want, it’s about what you need, and you need to stop arguing with me and stay in the box where no one can find you, okay? I’ll be back tomorrow.” Bucky’s hand lingers on your chest for the briefest of moments, before he snatches it away, you reach out to him and he stops, the lid halfway to being closed, “What is it now?”

“Can I-” you gulp, too complicated emotions swirling inside you to name, “can you at least kiss me, Bucky?”

A year ago - hell, even two months ago - you would have rather died than getting kissed by Bucky Barnes, the man who stalked you, manipulated you, kidnapped you and raped you. You’d been his prisoner for over a year, he’d moved you from Manhattan to somewhere remote and let you think you’d had a chance of escape, and then beaten and assaulted you half to death when you’d almost succeeded. Bucky was your tormentor and you hated him with every fibre of your being. Bucky Barnes was also your saviour who’d prevented Steve Rogers from forcefully impregnating you for his girlfriend Natasha Romanoff. He’d killed his best friend in the whole world to protect you. Who else would do that for you? Who else could possibly love you that much?

Two months ago you wouldn’t have had to beg Bucky for a kiss however. Bucky took what he wanted from you, and he had wanted everything, all of the time. Something had changed.

A muscle in Bucky’s jaw jumps as he stares down at you, you think for a split second he will lean down and kiss you like he used to, but instead he shakes his head. You hear him murmur an apology as the lid closes and you’re left in darkness again. Alone.

There’s sun when you next wake up, it’s wonderfully warm, you can hear the sea, but you can’t feel it under you like you did when you were on the ship-

You sit up on a gasp for air, crying out against the pain of the sunlight against your sensitive eyes, you hadn’t seen proper direct sunlight since you’d run from Bucky’s burning cabin. You realise a few things at once, that you’re not in the box anymore, instead you’re laying against sand that’s soft and white, and there is an ocean directly ahead of you, brighter and bluer than Bucky’s eyes. You stare transfixed, wondering if maybe you’d died, and now you were in heaven, in this perfect, beautiful, quiet place. Alone. Warm. 

“Hi, Baby.” 

The sand shifts next to you, and the tranquil peace - the first peace you’d felt in over a year - disappears as Bucky sits next to you. You turn to stare at Bucky, his hair has grown out a little since you’d cut it last, on the night you’d tried to escape, and his beard is fuller than you’ve ever seen it. He looks exhausted, he’s lost weight, and he still won’t look at you.

“Hi, Bucky.” You wait a few seconds longer for Bucky to turn to look at you at least, or to pull you to him, or to ask you to strip to go skinny dipping with him, anything, but he stares out at the sea, his hands to himself, so you bring your knees up to your chest. You catch a whiff of your own body odour and wince, “I need to shower.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh, “No thank you for me bringing you to paradise, Baby? You’re just going to bitch already?”

“I- No- I didn’t mean-” your words are cut off when Bucky takes your upper arm and drags you to your feet next to him. Bucky spins you away from the beach and points towards a cabin behind you, 

“There’s a shower in there. Get washed up, and meet me in the kitchen and we’ll go over the rules for you.” There’s no warmth in his voice, and your heart quakes in a way you don’t understand.

Bucky sounds like he’s mad at you.

You don’t want him to be mad at you.

He’s supposed to love you.

“B-Bucky, is everything-”

“Go.” He swats at your ass, but it hurts, he’s not doing it playfully, and he doesn’t seem to care when you yelp in pain. Tears sting your eyes as you rub at your backside over the jeans you’d been wearing the entire time you’d been travelling, and you head to the cabin. The thought of hot water and soap and a toothbrush and toothpaste was too much to ignore. You come to a dead stop when you enter the cabin, your breath freezes in your throat as you take it all in.

It’s identical to the place Bucky had been holding you at for the last year before Steve ruined it. It’s where Bucky had tormented you, hurt you, broke you, and he’d replicated it down to the sheets and pillows to break you down in again-

“What’s the holdup, Baby? I need you clean, right now you’re hideous.”

You jump at Bucky’s growl at your back, and you spin to face him, your heart in your mouth. You don’t care that he’s just insulted you, your mind is spinning too much to care about anything other than the effort and planning Bucky had put into this place. Would the bathroom look the same as the one you’d cut his hair in? Was he always planning on bringing you here? You would never escape now, and you weren’t sure if you even wanted to.

“This place…” You trail off, and Bucky shrugs, 

“Home sweet home. Now get your ass in the shower before I throw you in there.”

You’re on autopilot as you head to the bathroom and do as you’re told. You turn the water up as high as you can manage and step inside the glass cubicle. It’s like a nightmare and also a dream. These aren’t the same walls Bucky fucked you against repeatedly, but they look identical. It’s not the same showerhead that he used on you until you passed out in his arms, but this new one has the same settings and could easily be used the same way again. There is a different bathtub, it’s not the same as the one that Bucky once held your head under the water in when you’d refused to give him the head he wanted, but it didn’t really matter. Bucky wanted you to remember everything that he was capable of, and so you did.

There’s only a bathrobe for you to put on when you step out and dry yourself off, an odd sense of hope goes through you at that, that maybe Bucky still does have feelings for you, that he still wants you, he never let you wear clothes before, so maybe it will be the same here. Your fingers shake as you reach out to the door handle, the walk back to the studio room where Bucky waits is like walking through a dreamscape. Dread, hope, fear, longing… it all fills your blood until you feel like you’re walking through honey. His back is to you when you stop, and you gently call his name, 

“Bucky?”

He turns, there’s almost a smile on his face as he takes in your clean form, and he points to the bed where you can see food and what looks like a bathing suit waiting for you. You frown when you see it but you don’t fight as Bucky pushes against your lower back and tells you to sit and eat. You’re hungrier than you realised, and almost bolt the fruit and yoghurt down as if you’re afraid it’ll get taken away from you. He’s done that before. Bucky just watches, carefully sitting just out of touching distance, you feel the separation like a needle in your side and abruptly your appetite disappears, 

“Bucky, are you-?”

“We have to talk, Baby.”

Is Bucky going to break up with me?

It’s the most ridiculous thought. You weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend, this wasn’t a relationship, and if Bucky didn’t want to be with you anymore it would end in your death, not a breakup talk. You were his captive, his sex toy, the person he felt he loved more than anything else. He couldn’t break up with you, even if he wanted to. You clasped your fingers in your lap, you desperately wanted to reach over to him, but instead you keep your eyes on your lap and whisper, 

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Yes.” A tear slips out, you see it falling to the material of your bathrobe. Bucky doesn’t hold you, or yell at you, he just carries on like you’re not crying openly in front of him, “I was always going to bring you here eventually, Baby, it’s safe and there’s just us on here. I own this island, you can’t run from me. I could make you happy here, where no one would find you.”

You start shaking, you force your jaw closed because your teeth threaten to chatter.

“I love you, Baby, I’ve told you that since the beginning, it’s the only real thing I’ve known since HYDRA.”

“Bucky, please-”

“And you betrayed me with Steve, like what we had meant nothing to you.”

You jerk like he’d slapped you. It’s what it felt like. You hadn’t betrayed Bucky, you hadn’t wanted what Steve nearly did to you, Bucky had to know that, he’d found you being held down and begging as Steve prepared to fuck you. The unfairness of it makes more tears fall, and you swipe them away, 

“I didn’t betray you! Your friend-”

“I killed him for you!” Bucky was standing over you now, his blue eyes gone black in anger, it rolled off of him in waves, and you shrunk back away from him, “I’ll never see Steve again and it’s all your fault! You let him touch you!”

“You left me with him!” You suddenly stand, pushing Bucky as hard as you could - which admittedly wasn’t very hard - feeling a shiver of satisfaction at the look of shock on his face, “You beat me half to death, you fucking monster! You ran away and you left me with another monster and you’re surprised he was going to hurt me like you did?! Are you stupid?!”

“Don’t call me stupid, Baby.”

“Fuck you, stupid!” You dart to the side when Bucky goes to grab you, dancing just out of his reach, “This is all your fault! I didn’t do anything wrong! I can’t fight off a super soldier and a black widow and you know it!” Your throat is hurting from how hard you’re yelling, deep down you know Bucky is only letting you dart away from him effectively but you can’t seem to stop yelling, “None of this is my choice, not this cabin, not this beach, not that box, and not you!”

“But you’re mine!” Bucky snatches at your bathrobe, quicker than you can see, and you grunt as you land against his chest, “You’re all mine now, Baby, no more escaping, no more visitors, you’re going to be everything I need and you’ll do exactly what I say, when I say it, do you understand me?”

“What if I don’t?” Your lower lip trembles, your voice reduced to a croak as you force your next question out, “You’ll kill me finally?”

Bucky’s eyes search yours, there’s a moment, like so many times before, when you think you can almost see him realising what he’s putting you through and regretting it… but it passes again, and instead he gently grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes, 

“I don’t need to kill you now we’re here. You’re mine.” He places a quick kiss against your lips, and then pushes you away, “Put on that bathing suit and go sunbathe. Don’t try to run away, there’s nowhere for you to go.”

You stare at the suit in confusion. Bucky doesn’t like you to wear clothing of any kind.

“Aren’t you coming?”

Bucky smirks and shakes his head, “I’m not touching you until I can be certain you still love me like you did after I killed Steve. I still see him on you, Baby, and it breaks my fucking heart.”

Tell him you don’t love him and you never will. Tell him and then he’ll never touch you again. You’ll be free.

You don’t say that though. You don’t tell Bucky that you hate him and you wish he was dead, because, deep down, it’s too late for that and you know it.

Time has no meaning on a beautiful remote island where all you have to do is read and eat and sunbathe. Bucky doesn’t talk to you, he barely looks at you, he spends a lot of his time on his satellite phone talking to people that you don’t know and are afraid to ask about. You think you’ve been on the island for about two weeks, but you’re not sure, every moment on there is a struggle. It’s impossible to relax when, after a year of being both literally and figuratively pinned under Bucky, you’re suddenly ignored and avoided. You hadn’t realised you would now find it almost impossible to sleep without his heavy presence at your back, or that your stomach would be too knotted to eat without being forced to sit in his lap first. You wander the island miserably, your favourite place is a secluded lagoon with wonderfully warm and clear water. You like to sit there, staring at the reflection of the person you are now.

You hate her, how she’s dependent on Bucky, on how much she misses his touch. Sometimes you want to wade into the lagoon and drown her.

Another sunrise on an unnamable day, and you think you’re hallucinating when you see a man at the door of the cabin talking with Bucky. He’d told you specifically that there would be no more visitors. Your steps falter as you get closer, the last time Bucky had had another man in front of you it hadn’t ended well, what was he thinking bringing this person here, what was Bucky doing-

“Baby, come here, meet Dr White,” Bucky took your hand and dragged you in front of him, “he’s a specialist, he worked in the Red Room and owes me a favour.”

You stare at the man, he barely registers as a person to you, all you can think is that the Red Room is where Natasha was trained. Where she was sterilised.

“B-Bucky-”

“Shhh. Everything will be fine when you wake up, Baby.”

You don’t even have time to cry out when you feel the prick of a needle going into your neck.

You’re pretty sure you’re dreaming, when you wake up. Bucky is wrapped around you, the doors to the cabin are wide open, and a gentle breeze lifts the gauzy curtains into the sea scented air. It’s no longer daylight, another unmeasurable amount of time has passed. You stir, and that’s when you feel the slight pain in your abdomen. Your hand goes to the bandage that’s there, and you feel Bucky stir next to you, his left hand covering yours, 

“Hey, Baby, how’re you feeling?” His nose trails up your neck, “I missed you.”

“What-” You wince when you move, trying to sit up, “- what happened?”

“The doctor fixed you.”

You already know. You knew it the second that Bucky told you where Dr White had come from.

“What did you do to me, Bucky?”

“I told you. He fixed you.” Bucky lifts himself into a sitting position, and then carefully helps you into one. There’s not as much pain as you expected, but then, you’re starting to feel oddly numb all over, “I needed you fixed. No one will touch you now. We’re the same.”

“You sterilised me.” 

“Yes. You’re safe now, because no one will try and hurt you like that again if you can’t get pregnant.”

The numbness spreads, pressure builds in your chest, and you don’t even realise what you’ve done until you’ve done it.

Bucky’s head snaps back as you reach out and slap him across the face.

Bucky opens his mouth, but you hit him again, and again, and again. Blows rain down on your captor, forced out by strength that you didn’t know you possessed, you think you can hear yourself screaming, but you’re not really there anymore to tell. There’s just this numbness, like cotton wool in your ears and around your body, cocooning you from this new horror.

You don’t even feel the stitches tear, or feel your blood start to flow, or care when Bucky bodily throws you to the bed and starts squeezing your neck. You pass out quickly, but you note happily that Bucky is covered with more blood than you, and most of it is his.

Time drifts again. Sunlight. Darkness. Warmth. Cold.

Your body hurts, but you can’t feel it.

You hear Bucky murmuring every now and then, his hazy outline never leaves you. There’s comfort in that, even as there’s horror.

You’re asleep for what feels like a long time, slowly you start to feel your body again, to feel the breeze from the sea, the softness of the bedding, and the slowly disappearing pain from your unwanted operation. When you finally sigh and wake up properly you realise that your arms are tied above your head, the knots aren’t tight, but you couldn’t move if you tried. You barely have time to comprehend how you feel about that when Bucky appears in your line of vision, he’s holding a bowl and a spoon, and sporting a genuine black eye. You’re not sure, but you think you feel pride that you hurt him that badly. Bucky stares at you, an almost smile on his lips, and you break the silence first, 

“I’m not apologising.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Good.”

You stare at each other some more, and that’s when your stomach growls loudly and you realise you’re starving, you’re not sure when you last ate, or how long it’s been since you were choked out by Bucky after attacking him. You swallow against the sudden hunger induced nausea, 

“My throat should be sore?”

“I didn’t throttle you, I just pressed on the blood vessels and you passed out. I didn’t want you to do real damage to yourself, Baby.” Bucky almost looked contrite, “I didn’t think you’d react like that. I thought you would be… happy. Or something.” You scoff and he has the nerve to look offended, “Aren’t you glad that I made you safe? We’re in paradise, alone, together, and if anyone finds us they’ll never try to use you like Steve did! It’s not your fault, and I’m sorry that I said that, but I just wanted to make you… you’re mine, Baby. I’m not sharing you.” 

You don’t answer, what is there to say? Your stomach growls again filling your deliberate silence, and Bucky takes a step forward, 

“You’ve been out for two days, you need to eat, will you let me feed you?” He sits at the edge of the bed, his right hand reaches out to stroke a finger down your cheek softly, “Please, Baby? I’m sorry. I love you. I miss you.”

You lean into his touch. What else can you do?

Bucky feeds you the fruit and the yoghurt, he gives you a smoothie as well, you eat as much as you can until your stomach feels like it’s going to pop. Bucky takes the bowl away, and comes back to you, you’re still trussed up, covered with the sheet, as helpless as you’ve ever been.

But Bucky has a black eye now. You feel you’ve gained something back, even if you know deep down that you’ve lost.

Bucky slowly peels away the sheet from your body. You’re naked underneath because that’s what he prefers you as. It’s like deja vu all over again as Bucky trails a finger over the top of your foot, then across your calf, your thigh, pausing to touch your clit and smiling when you sigh and squirm. He peels away the bandage on your stomach, pauses to press a kiss to your small wound, and then his lips go further up to capture your nipple, his free hand massaging your other breast. Finally he heads further north to your lips, his own hovering over yours, 

“I’m going to untie you. Will you be good?”

“I don’t forgive you.” You feel it’s important that he knows that, that you don’t forgive this particular betrayal. “And you can’t have sex with me until I’m healed.” It’s also important to lay down boundaries in relationships, isn’t it? That’s what you tell yourself. Bucky smiles against your lips, his hand reaches between your legs, pushing at your thighs until you open them, and you bite back a moan as he trails his index finger up and down your slit, 

“You sure, Baby? Your cunt is cryi ng at the thought of me right now, and I’ve missed her so much… no?” Bucky chuckles as you shake your head, pulling his hand away to untie your wrists and using his other to push his sweat pants down his hips, “Okay, Baby, I don’t want to hurt you, this is our new beginning, I love you… now suck me good, sweetheart, tell me you’re sorry for hitting me so hard, when all I’ve ever done is show you how much I care.”

There’s a change in Bucky now that he’s taken the last of your choices from you. He becomes the boyfriend you assume he would’ve been if he’d allowed you to meet him and fall in love with him properly. He was sweet, attentive, gracious and charming. Bucky woke you up at sunrise every morning with a kiss, he cooked you breakfast, and swam in the crystal blue ocean with you, he spun you in his arms when you showed him your secret spot by the lagoon, and he made love to you under the moonlight when you’d healed. 

You still weren’t allowed clothing, Bucky still preferred you to eat from his lap as he impaled you on his dick, and he showed you a bunker where you had to be locked into when the food deliveries were made, but you could almost convince yourself you were on an extended vacation with your wealthy, gorgeous boyfriend.

It made the nights when you had nightmares of Natasha and her oath to find you again easier to bear.

You’re on your stomach when you wake from one such nightmare, heart pounding in both fear and expectation, a scream of horror and joy locked in your throat when you feel Bucky at your back, a looming presence in the pitch black, his metal hand cool on the back of your neck,

“Baby? Are you okay?”

“Y-yes…” you stay immobile as Bucky’s hand leaves your neck and travels down your spine, there’s a soft anger in his touch you haven’t felt since the night you tried to escape. You want to lie to him, but you’re long past that now,

“I was dreaming of Natasha. She-” your words cut off when Bucky drags the pillow from under your head and shoved it under your hips, raising your ass to the air,

“I don't want to hear that cunts name coming out of your mouth ever again, Baby.” Bucky lands a spank to your ass, just this side of painful, and you wince but remain still. You know what he wants from you as he bends your knees towards your chest, “You’re not going anywhere, don’t worry about that.”

“I'm not worried, Bucky.” You were telling the truth about that. Bucky had forced all the hope from you long ago, until he was all you knew, he was your only hope for survival now. You feel cool oil spill down your ass, and try to relax as Bucky starts to work your back passage open for him,

“You’re mine, all mine, and you’ll stay that way, you’ll see.”

The sun rises on another new day you can’t name when Bucky finishes with you. You can’t move again, all your strength fucked out of you, but you notice Bucky on his satellite phone once again as you pass out on the soiled sheets, Bucky’s spend leaking from you and your tears drying on your face.

Reports that Natasha Romanoff has been found dead within her apartment this morning have been confirmed. No foul play is currently suspected but the NYPD and the FBI have confirmed the investigation is ongoing. Tony Stark is unavailable for comment.

Y/N Y/L/N, after eighteen months missing has been confirmed dead and the investigation into her disappearance has concluded. 

Bucky stands behind you on the beach as he shows you the reports, an all encompassing presence that blocks out the sun, the warmth it provides is not comforting but inescapable all the same.

“You see that, Baby?” Bucky pulls you back to his chest, his right hand going to your throat, “Natasha is dead. I had her killed for you.”

“Won’t anyone find out?”

“No. I know other Black Widows who owe me favours. The trail leads nowhere, to no one.”

An odd feeling of relief flows through you. You don’t fight when Bucky wraps his left arm around your front, his hand dropping to rest lightly directly above your pubic bone,

“Oh. So-”

“You’re safe from her.” Bucky presses a kiss to the side of your neck, “You’re safe from everyone.”

You’re alone with Bucky on a remote island where he can do whatever he wants with you.

You’re terrified, and the furthest thing from safe.

“I killed you too, Baby, don’t you get it? You’re dead now, and you’re in heaven. With me.”

You’re frozen in ice under the burning sun and only growing colder.

Maybe you are dead.

“I love you, Baby.”

You’re safe because you know it’s true. Bucky's love is all consuming, and you’re devoured. Gone. 

His.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

This will never fail to make me laugh; Alicent was experiencing quite possibly the worst night of her life, Rhaenyra didn't gaf about the deadly lasers being sent her way, and Laenor in the back was going hard for absolutely no reason.

#her eye twitch #house of the dragon

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Anthony Mackie deserves so much more recognition and love and affection than he receives. I’m tired of y’all sleeping on him just becuase two white dudes rule the marvel universes.