#hydra!reader

[bucknastysbabe]

The Handler ★ 2001 ★ I think, therefore I am

Rating: Explicit:

Tags: TW!!! HTP, Bucky being abused by strike team, manipulative relationship, Stockholm aspects/soldier is truly incapable of consent, Hydra!reader, handler!reader, sub!bucky, prostate milking, caretaking, touch starveddddd, Bucky has a Bad Thought.

A/N: Working on bigger stuff and needed a break so threw this up and goin to attempt some asks

You had the mission debrief typed out and printed for your meeting with Pierce. Every time the asset was utilized he requested a personal meeting with you. They usually were short and blunt, sometimes he’d needle you for any shortcomings but you held strong.

Getting up and stretching, your back clicked from sitting at this wretched desk all day. You’d go change and hit the gym made for the Strike boys. Emphasis on boys. You hated the childish mongrels, often catcalling or making dirty remarks about your precious star.

There were other women, but few and far between with this level of clearance. You clicked down long gray hallways toward the locker rooms. Somewhere to the left is where they held your boy. He was in cryo recuperating. You had sucked him off in your chair last time before sending the asset onwards.

Scanning your card you entered the desolate woman’s lockers. You tried to keep your thoughts from returning to swollen pink lips and teary blue eyes, chanting commander over and over and over. Changing into a black sweatsuit you grabbed a small towel and headed to the training room/gym.

Your mouth twisted in horror at the sight surrounding the ‘pen’ as they liked to call it. Where agents could spar with each-other. Your precious boy was once again bloodied and bruised up, fighting off three of the men. Rumlow howled while waving cash, “Last one standing gets his ass!” The others laughed and hooted.

The asset was animalistic, eyes wide and nostrils flared. He was likely confused being so soon ripped out of cryo with no chair, no mission. He grabbed a man’s head and started bashing it into the padding of the ground, the other two realizing then Soldier was in fight mode.

You barked, “Soldat! Soldier!”

He was still slamming the guys head into a bloody pulp, snarling and wild. Rumlow shouted, “Get back get back, I have the stick! Fuck!” You hopped over the railing and advanced on Rumlow, “You stupid fucking pig! He’s not a goddamn toy! This documentation is going to be a nightmare.”

The soldier wiped his bloody titanium on his thigh, slowly looking up at you and Rumlow. The young and arrogant leader scoffed, “Just a bit of fun, didn’t know he was going to go psycho!” You waved your hands in anger, eyes flickering down to the stun baton in Brock’s hand. You seethed quietly, stumbling over your English in anger, “You put in chair first! Blyat.”

“I see it as a good way to get the weak ones out. It’s called bonding you stone cold commie bitch.”

You clenched your fists and swallowed back another angry tirade.

“Get the fuck out of my sight and get a goddamn crew out here Rumlow. That’s an order.”

He scoffed again and swaggered off, leaving you with your boy and the remains of some shit stain of an agent. He looked up at you with deceptively wide eyes, face splattered with blood. In that soft tone of his he uttered, “They told me to fight.”

Carding your fingers through blood-tacked hair you agreed, “They did. Weren’t supposed to but they did. You did what was asked. Come on, follow me.” You knew there were cameras and microphones all over this gym so you kept the pet names to a minimum.

It was a chore having to pull out the listening devices in your office weekly.

Soldat followed along, arms clasped in front, breathing heavily. You’d get him washed in the woman’s showers. Not the damn hose they usually sprayed your baby with. You stated, “Even if it seems real, don’t kill another agent. That looks bad on you and therefore me, okay? You want me to be your handler, yes?”

He nodded, “Only you. Order noted.”

Once inside the lockers you configured the clearance up a notch for security reasons. Brock knew to let you deal with him, no matter how jealous the prick was. Your pretty boy was only clad in his cryo suit, a tight black thing constraining his huge muscles. “Turn sweetheart,” you said.

You unzipped him, frowning at his mottled back and hips. “Soldier, maintenance check.” He stepped out of the rest of the suit while listing off.

“Total functions at 80%. Mentally, confusion and fear are interfering with typical functions. Physically, contusions and bruises, fifth metacarpal fracture, superior labial frenulum tear.”

You sat him down and kneeled between his thighs, sliding your thumb across the torn piece that swelled his upper lip up. The asset grunted but remained still. You hissed, “They do not get it. A bunch of silly boys. I’m sorry they woke you up for this nonsense.”

“I did not mean to kill Agent 0447 I thought the objective was to eliminate until one was left.”

He looked so sad. They’d still give your baby a hard time for this. You caressed a bruised cheek and cooed, “Rumlow should know better. Perfect soldier like you deserves better than shoddy unplanned orders.”

“Yes commander,” he said, so quietly. You hated how despondent the soldier had been lately. He needed maintenance but all they had was the chair, nothing for the human locked inside the weapon.

That’s what Soldat was created to be though. The fist of Hydra. He was a powerful weapon. You were growing weak. Vasily would chide you for this. You couldn’t make yourself care at the moment.

“You need to wash. I’ll help you,” you said.

All of the stalls were furnished with soaps, brushes, and towels. You stripped down yourself, quick and ungainly. Going to the furthest stall you turned on the water, hot as can be for him. The asset liked to be warm and rarely had the chance.

You stepped in and beckoned, “C’mon then precious star, need to get you cleaned up.” He padded over, seeming to melt under the hot spray with a sigh. There wasn’t much room for the two of you, his bulk taking up the space. He wouldn’t have to do a thing.

You first grabbed a scrub brush and asked for the arm, gently getting the encrusted blood out of the grooves. Soldat shifted a bit, clenching his jaw tight. You thought the arm was a work of art, he hated it with a passion without even uttering the words.

“Good boy,” you murmured.

Next came the shampoo, you moving soldat to the tiny built in bench. He ogled your body, fingertips twitching to touch. Your boy’s cock, hanging heavy between his thighs was beginning to plump up.

You shampooed his dark hair, washing out the blood, grease, and sweat. He moaned low in his chest, enjoying the gentle scratching of your nails. You rambled, “Can’t believe they gave that young asshole clearance to even breathe near you. I’m sorry sweet baby.”

You scratched at his lower scalp, earning a hiss when you scraped over a bad bruise. You apologized quickly and moved him back under the shower spray, rinsing the suds out. Next was the soap and towel, you methodically washing every part of him as gentle as possible.

You’d get his privates last.

Coming up from his feet and shins rubbed a hand down the soldier’s flank. He was trembling and whining under his breath, turned on by all the good touch. You breathed, “Almost there precious star, be good, you’ll get a reward.”

“I- I don’t deserve one,” he moaned.

Furrowing your brow you cursed in Russian before snapping, “You did nothing wrong. You didn’t know. Look at you now, being so good for commander. Hush.”

You rinsed the towel and soaped it up again, getting his swollen cock and balls soapy. Soldat whimpered and braced his clacking left arm on the wall. “Soon, soon precious.” You moved the rag around the scrub from taint to his tailbone, earning another warbled cry.

You turned him under the spray and placed your hands on huge pectorals, praising, “All done. My sweet boy. I’m giving you the chance for a reward, but that’s up to you.” He shivered again when you placed a soft kiss on his sternum.

The soldier seemed to be weighing his options, jaw clicking, puffy lip poked further out. His cock was leaking and almost purple. Your baby begged, “Please, anything Commander. I’ll do better next time.”

“You did fine, get a towel and lean against the bench.” He knew what you meant, placing a pillow for his bruised knees. They were already healing but the best deserved the best. You padded to your locker to get a comb. Your hair was short right now so the asset would get a nice brush.

He was almost purring as you combed through dark locks, working through knots fine and gentle. With the aid of some hair oil. It hung in loose waves now, gorgeous just like him. You cooed, “Beautiful boy. No one could make a face that pretty if they tried.” He shivered and eyed you over a thick shoulder.


Using the oil from earlier you slicked up your fingers and his asshole, sliding around the twitching pucker. Baby was eager for it, bending and spreading out for you. He whimpered in broken languages under his breath, droplets on pale skin shining under the bright white light.

You breached him with two of your slim fingers, easing your way inside his tight channel. The brunette’s breathing was tight and short. Your other hand slid down his back, commanding him to relax some. “I’ve got you, любовь, I’ve got you.” You didn’t mean for the Russian to slip and mentally chided yourself— getting too lost in the job.

Your fingers slid deeper, probing for his prostate. The strained gasp and glob of pre hitting the tile notified you’d found the organ. You massaged it in deep strokes, pressing your thumb on his taint to really milk your baby. The asset gripped at the metal bench, digging indents already. He whimpered softly, head tossing back and forth.

“Mhm, don’t think about a damn thing. Focus on my fingers, how your commander is proud, how good it feels. Been a while since I really milked you good hm Soldier?”

He was making a mess all over the floor, cock streaming rivers of pent up seed. He eyed you in the reflection of the walls, looking wrecked. You pressed a kiss to his tailbone, staying at your lethargic pace. It would be intense but you needed your star to relax.

You spotted a string of drool leaving swollen lips, the soldier’s intense eyes gone lax and hazy. He writhed on your fingers, mewling like a whore. The supersoldier strung out a moan, “T-thank youuuu, thank youuu.” Tears joined his cum on the floor.

You smiled, comforting him by pressing your heat and tits against his back. Now nuzzled near his thick neck you purred, “Of course. Such a perfect soldier. Hydra’s greatest creation. Oh commander adores you so much sweet star.”

He sniffled and whined harder, hitching sobs wracking his frame. You whispered, “C’mon precious boy, my good boy, get it all out and you can get some sleep Hm? Don’t have to worry about those pigs.”

He nodded jerkily, whining a weak, “For you commander, yesyes!”

You dug harder into his prostate, milking it quicker, massaging from the outside just as frantic. The weapon began to fell apart with choppy sobs, cock pulsing and twitching before unloading onto the floor. You awed at the amount, cooing more praise.

He’d worked out two more big loads before whimpering, “T-thank you, oh, oh, yes commander, yes thank you.” Which was code for I’m done. He couldn’t comprehend disobeying direct orders, especially from you. You planted little kisses along his wet cheeks, playing with those dark waves before sitting back and cleaning yourself off, wiping the floor down.

He stayed put, panting and spent. You sat for a couple of minutes, rubbing his upper back. In a reluctant whisper you said, “C’mon soldier, time to get dressed and back to Cryo. You’ll feel a lot better now.” He nodded blearily, shaking too hard to put it on. You took over, helping your star into the tight suit, brushing back wild locks.

“Pretty boy. Let’s go.”

You stuffed the ruined towel in your belongings, intending to retrieve it later. You felt his presence locking in on you during the slow walk to the chamber. You knew he wanted to ask a question.

“Speak soldat.”

“If I’m the greatest creation then why do they treat me like that?,” he asked, face devoid of emotion. You stopped in your tracks, growing stiff. You weren’t prepared for this. This is why the chair was important, awful as it was.”

In a measured voice you said, “Because they’re untrained ignorant bastards who abuse power that they wish they could have. I will speak with the director on this treatment. Go on now, sleep well dear star.”

He frowned but stepped into the chamber, hands clasped at his back. You watched through the small window, mouth pinched. Pierce was going to smell the weakness on you and strike like the snake he was. Then two more heads would take your place.

#dead dove: do not eat #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #htp #hydra!reader #bucky barnes smut #dom reader #sub!bucky

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Postcard Marks the Spot

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: Canon typical torture that's about it in this one.

Author’s Note: Soooo..... I lied. There's definitely going to be more parts to this. All because I can't control myself. And if the muse wants to see this through, then I'm gonna do just that. You'll need to read the first two parts of this to understand what's going on. Don't forget to follow @xxwritemeastoryxxlibrary and turn on notifications just in case tumblr doesn't notify you with the tags.

I do not and will not ever give permission for my fics to be copied and posted on other sites. Don’t do it. Don’t be that person that ruins it for me and everyone else.

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. While likes are appreciated, reblogs are gold. Seriously, if you enjoyed this in the slightest, please reblog ♥

Phantom Masterlist || MCU Masterlist || Taglist

Her throat was raw from screaming. If it hadn't been for the mouth guard she was sure she would have broken teeth from clenching her jaw tightly as the electricity pulsed through her. The numbness she felt once the machine stopped barely gave her relief. 

Fight it. You can fight it. The words she constantly repeated on a loop from the moment they first placed her into the chair. You are strong enough to fight this. You made it through worse.

"Who are you?" A woman's voice filled the air but she refused to find the source. 

This wasn't the first time she heard the question and she was sure it wouldn't be the last. It was a question to see how much of her memories had been taken. To gage how much more they needed to subject her through. 

Her answers varied with each time. At first she only told them to fuck off. Or occasionally she'd get the chance to spit in the face of the doctor that stood too close to her. The more they began to chisel away at her, the more her answers changed. 

Just a random stranger. 

The person that's going to kill you when I get out of this chair. 

An ex Avenger.

Y/N. 

Phantom

The moment the mouth guard was pulled from her lips. She panted out her birth name. The name she had barely remembered from her time in the Red Room. The name that had been taken from her the moment she sat in the chair for the first time. 

It was the name that held no real meaning to her anymore. She had felt more of an attachment to the fake name she had been going by for the last handful of years than the name she had been born with. Yet at that very moment, that's the only name she remembered. 

She watched as the woman standing in front of her wrote on the clipboard after she had spoken. As she did, she tried to remember how she had gotten there or how she even ended up strapped to the chair. The more she tried to remember the more her head hurt, and not just from the process they subjected her to. 

"Do you know who this is?" 

Another question they kept asking her before holding up a series of photos. Sometimes it'd be a group photo of the Avengers at a press conference or individual photos of each of them. Other times it'd be a photo of her original handler or several other faces recognizable through Hydra’s history. And each time she gave the appropriate answer to ensure they knew her memory was fine. 

Until it wasn't. It was taking her longer to answer. Longer to figure out if she actually knew who she was looking at. At the beginning she'd easily say their names without any hesitation. But as each session progressed, she'd fight harder to remember their names. Sometimes she couldn’t at all. 

A photo of Bucky was held up for her to see this time. By the looks of it the photo had been taken on a mission. His brows had been furrowed in concentration as he held a gun up, ready to pull the trigger when needed. 

There were plenty of things going on in the photo, but she could only get her eyes to focus on his eyes. How familiar they had been to her no matter how many times she had seen them before and during her current situation. 

With the familiarity came a sadness that filled her chest. A pain that she no longer understood why it had been there as she looked at his eyes. But it lingered in the pit of her stomach. But she knew him. Otherwise there'd be no familiar feeling as she looked at the photo. 

Her brows furrowed as she tried to get her brain to work. To pull the information out from behind the wall that is being put up. After a moment an echo of his laugh filled her mind. 

His laughter had been contagious the whole night. It was a sight she hadn't seen before and she was enjoying every moment of it, committing it to memory as if it was the last time she'd ever hear him laugh like that.

His vibranium arm had been holding several bags filled with merchandise he had acquired through the night. Y/N had enjoyed watching him go from booth to booth and taking everything in before deciding that what the vendor was selling was worth the price and bought it without second guessing himself. 

Taking Bucky to a smaller fantasy based convention for his birthday was something that he never once expected to ever do. But seeing the excitement on his face as he went through the whole day pulling her to the different booths that caught his attention had been worth it. 

For the first time since completely turning her back on Hydra, she got to really get to know who Bucky was. And from the moment she found the flier advertising the convention, she knew she had to take him. 

"You have no idea how much I needed this." Bucky said as he pulled her closer to his side and put his arm around her shoulder. "I don't know how to express how much I appreciate you pushing me to give this a chance."

"Seeing you this happy and excited is all the expression I need." She kissed his cheek before giving him a smile. "Happy Birthday Bucky."

"His name is James Barnes." She said a moment later as she lifted her head up slightly to look at the doctor in front of her. "He's an Avenger. Former Winter Soldier and hostage of Hydra, just as I am."

A small tsk followed by a sigh came from the doctor. Before she knew it, the mouth guard was being forced back into her mouth. 

She braced herself for the blow. But no matter how many times she had experienced it, her body was never prepared for the current of electricity being sent through her. 

At the sound of the door opening, the doctor didn't bother to look up from the page she continued to write notes on. "This process would go a lot faster if we had her book." 

"That was never recovered." A soldier responded as he came to a stop beside the doctor. His eyes moved over to chair the moment a new wave of screams left her mouth. "We can only go by the pages we've found that Pierce had copied during his temporary time as her handler." 

"And nothing has come up from when you captured her?" The doctor looked up at the soldier before checking the watch on her wrist. 

"No." The soldier responded. "For all we know she could have destroyed it along with the base." 

"What are the chances of inserting new commands?" The doctor asked as she wrote a few more things on the clipboard before nodding her head to her assistant, indicating to turn off the machine. 

He watched as Phantom sagged in the chair, panting. He had seen the fire in her eyes the day they brought her in. As she opened her eyes, he could tell that fire had been snuffed out. There would only be a few more times needed if they were lucky.

A small smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "There's only one way to find out. "

___

It wasn't long after Bucky explained the meaning of the postcard that the team found themselves back on the quinjet. There was no actual plan of action or data to go off of. Only a destination based off of the location on the front of the postcard.

"What are the chances of her still being there?" Natasha asked, looking over at Bucky. 

Their destination was only a few minutes away and all of them, especially Bucky were getting antsy. They weren't sure what would come from this trip. For it being 3 weeks since the postcard had been sent, they expected to almost find nothing once they landed. 

"Slim to none." His attention was on the postcard in his hand. He hadn't put it down since Sam had handed it to him. His fleshed fingers would occasionally run along the grooves of her writing. "For her to send this, there had to be no other way of getting out of it." 

"Then why send the postcard?" Sam asked. 

Bucky’s eyes looked over the writing on the back for the millionth time. He could hear her words play through his mind. Okay, worst ever possible case scenario. He realized now that it wasn't just a random scenario. It was a just in case idea if either of them would ever need it. 

He now understood why she had done it. They both had a past with Hydra. It was only a matter of time until someone attempted to get them within their grasp. Y/N knew she would be the easier target with the programming still locked within her mind. 

This was her way of subtly adding in the details just in case something came up. And while the first stake out with the potential scenarios had been a few months after her escape from Hydra, she wanted it embedded in any way she could. 

"It lets us know where to start looking." He responded a moment later. "Someone could have seen something. Or if she was keeping anything with her, that'd be where she left it. If we're lucky, we'll find something that will let us know at least in what direction Hydra went."

"Not to be the downer on the thought process," Sam began as he leaned forward in his seat. "What if that is the only thing we have to go on? She's been damn near impossible to even get a trail on after she stopped using the safe houses. For Hydra to find her, they've got something we don't and any trace of that could be gone." 

That had crossed Bucky’s mind several times on the way over. Each thought process comes to the same two ends. On one hand there was a possibility that there'd be nothing else to go on. On the other, there was ache in his chest that screamed she'd leave something behind for him to find. 

"What is it?" She asked as she finished wrapping her wounded hand in gauze. Bucky's brows had been furrowed as if he'd been thinking hard about something.

"Your hypothetical today." He said with a sigh. "I couldn't stop thinking about it." 

She ran her good hand along her face. "Was it the Hydra question?" She watched as he nodded before she closed the distance between them. "If there's one thing I know, you'll always be free from them." She placed her hands on his cheeks as she looked up at him. "You're strong enough to fight without them getting into your head. And I'd be there guns ablazing to pull you out before they could try anything." 

He chuckled as he placed his hands on top of hers. "Humor me. What's waiting on the other side of the postcard?" 

She shook her head slightly, a smile pulling at her lips. "There’d be hope waiting on the other side. Whatever we have with us. My heart." They both chuckled. "If I ever needed to use Siberia, I'd make sure I'd leave whatever I could to help you find me. No matter how small or big it may be." 

"You just have to trust me when I say this might be more than just a postcard." Bucky said as he looked over at Sam. 

____

Once landed, the team had split up. Bucky took one look at his surroundings and gave the others several locations to search. Especially places he knew would have vantage points of the town. While any other time he'd willingly go searching for any sign of Y/N, he knew he had to be the one to go to the shop on the postcard. 

He, along with Tony and Natasha, began making their way through the center of the town. Vendors lined both sides of the street. And as the town normally did, crowds gathered at each vendor.

Bucky’s eyes had constantly been scanning the area. They never settled in one spot for too long. They were scanning for the shop or anything that could be lurking around. If Hydra was still around, he didn't want to be caught off guard. 

When the small shop came into view, Bucky’s pace picked up as he made his way over. He hadn't cared if the others had taken a second longer to realize where he was going. He hadn't cared how the bell rattled loudly against the door as he roughly pulled it open moments later. He just hoped that there was something. Anything to lead him in the right direction of Y/N. 

As he scanned his eyes over the shop, he noticed three things. One, the way a glare formed on the shop owner's face before his eyes widened in surprise. Second, was the empty spot in the aisle that Bucky could only assume once held shelves. And third, his nose could pick up on the lingering scent of bleach. 

There was no doubt that something had happened within the shop. He felt some relief that something had happened instead of coming up empty the moment he walked in. He felt it in his gut that she had been there. That the postcard hadn't led to a dead end. 

He could almost imagine the path into the shop she would have taken before she reached the rotating shelf of postcards. The back and front entrance was visible no matter where she was within the shop. Several aisles filled with anything she could possibly grab to help her. He understood why it had to be this shop. 

"You're the Avengers." The shop owner noted as Tony and Natasha began to walk towards him. Bucky followed behind shortly after and noticed how the shop owner's face quickly steeled over as if he was supposed to be that way from the beginning. 

"At least that makes things easier." Tony said  as he looked at Bucky and Natasha before looking back at the shop owner. Tony opened his mouth to continue when the shop owner quickly interrupted. 

"Are you safe?" Bucky watched as the man asked Tony. He seemed not to care about what Tony may have wanted to ask and it made Bucky curious as to why. 

"Safe?" A confused look formed on Tony’s face. "Of course I'm safe." Tony then pulled up a projection of Y/N. "Have you seen her come in?" 

The owner looked at the projection for a moment before shaking his head. "No." He looked towards Natasha. "Are you safe?" 

The three of them looked at each other for a moment before Natasha nodded her head. "I'm safe. We're all safe. We're just looking for our friend to make sure she is safe." 

It was Natasha’s words that clicked something in Bucky’s mind. Anyone else would have just given an answer about if they had seen Y/N or not. But this man had been intentionally avoiding any questions about Y/N. 

All he cared about was asking if they were safe. A question that seemed pointless given the current circumstances. But Y/N had sent him a postcard with a coded message. A code that had been tied into the steps he had created with a scenario she had come up with for the sake of making a stakeout easier to handle. 

The owner shook his head slightly before looking at Bucky. There was a look in his eyes, almost pleading that one of them knew how to respond. "Are you safe?" 

An annoyed sigh passed Tony’s lips at the words but Bucky nodded his head. "Pancakes."

"What?" Both Tony and Natasha said at the same time. 

"I'll explain later."  Bucky shrugged. 

A smile pulled at the shop owner's lips as he kept his eyes on Bucky. "Your preference?"

Bucky chuckled at the memory that crossed his mind. One that left him and Y/N tangled in each other before the smoke alarm went off. "Regular, but the burnt ones made the memories." 

The shop owner nodded his head quickly. "One moment." He moved away from the counter and made his way towards the back room. 

Bucky looked over to find Natasha and Tony sharing the same look of curiosity. Bucky shrugged his shoulders. "Y/N played this smart. Anyone else would have given you an answer about if they saw her. Not look directly at an image of her and lie before asking the same thing to the person standing next to you." He looked over at Nat. "He completely ignored what you said after asking. But when you mentioned we were making sure Y/N was safe, it hit me what the phrase was. So I gave it to him." 

Before Natasha or Tony could respond in any way, the shop owner came back carrying a decorative box. One that was decent in size but small enough to be held in one hand. 

"Your friend said to give this to you." He held it out for Bucky. Bucky gently reached out to take it from him. "She told me she'd only trust the person who could answer correctly. Said what was left of her life was in that box." 

"Thank you." Bucky said as he brought the box closer to him. His eyes never left the lid of the box as he had. 

I'd make sure I'd leave whatever I could to help you find me. No matter how small or big it may be.

Part of him was afraid to even look inside of it. If this was all she had kept with her, it added to the guilt that was already hooked within him. The other part of him wanted to know what items the box contained that would help put him in the right direction in finding her.

"Was this where she was taken?" 

Bucky had heard Natasha’s voice ask the question. But his brain wasn't fully latching onto the conversation as his focus was now on opening the box. 

"No. She killed two of them here before she left. Tourists saw soldiers take her down at the next block over." 

She fought her way out.That would explain the empty space and smell of bleach. Bucky thought as he placed the box and the lid on the counter top in front of him. The box had been filled halfway with items Y/N had put in there. 

At first glance Bucky could see some pictures. Pictures that made a small tick of a smile pull at his lips. A strip of photos from a booth stuck out and he gently pulled it out taking in the images. 

His heart longed for the moments the camera had captured. The smile on both of their faces as they looked at each other instead of the camera. How her eyes had shined so beautifully as she looked over at him. Or how he kissed her at the right time for the last photo. The first time he ever kissed her was captured for them in a small square photo. 

His face fell as that guilty feeling poked out at him. He hated himself for forcing her to leave. He hated that he waited so long to start visiting safe houses and leaving her messages. Messages that had been left unanswered as those safe houses stayed vacant. 

Sighing, he placed the picture strip back on top and lifted the pile of photos to stand against the edge of the box. Underneath the photos were a few folded maps. 

Maps of the different locations she had been in over the last year and a half. Circles and Xs were visible in certain locations. No doubt places she deemed safe and places to stay clear of. On the top right corner of the first map, her writing had caught his interest quickly.

If you're reading this, thank you for coming. You didn't have to, but you did. You are the only person who would understand the contents of this. Keep it safe. Keep it hidden. I trust you with it. 

His eyebrow raised as he lifted the maps. Beneath them were two journals stacked on top of each other. One of them he recognized right away. The other not so much. 

The one he recognized had been Y/N’s journal. One that she had kept with her on every mission, every vacation, and that she wrote in nightly. Her favorite color protected the pages she had been writing on. And by the simple glance of it, there were only a few more pages left untouched. 

When he pulled the second journal out, his heart dropped. The black leather journal stared right up at him. The white lettering on the front was bright against the cover. The journal is newer in comparison to the one that still occasionally haunts his dreams. 

His fleshed fingers ran over the etched lettering in the leather. Each letter he traced with his finger proved further that Y/N did her best to make sure no one could just come along and surprise her. She'd go down as herself and not as the asset they made her into. 

As his fingers came to the last letter on the cover, flashes of a red journal appeared across his mind. How he loathed the memories of sitting in that suppressing machine and seeing the soldier in front of him read from the journal. How a journal such as that one, and the one in his hand, had the capability to take away a person's free will in an instant. 

Phantom. The front of the cover stated. It wasn't a symbol like the one he had seen being used during his time in Hydra’s hold. A single word that held more secrets than a symbol. 

Every detail about her time as Phantom was sitting in his hand. Her trigger words, the torment and conditioning she had been subjected to, along with notes from her handlers about her missions would be within the pages of the journal. The one thing that kept her from ever falling into the wrong hands without a fight and he now had it. 

She trusted him with the very detailed past she tried so hard to keep hidden from him. Trusted him with the very thing that could be used against her time and time again if allowed. He had it in his hand and he wanted nothing more than to watch it burn.

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#MCU #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #hydra!reader #reader insert #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier x Fem!reader #Winter Soldier fanfics #winter Soldier fics #xxwritemeastoryxx writes 2023

[louwaffles]

Y/N: So we have to get rid of bad guys wanting to kill the president? 

Y/N: You know, once upon a time I almost killed the president. I was almost there, but you know, we got caught last minute. I wonder where those guys are. You shoulda met Sergei: man was crazy but knew his way with a gun. 

Y/N: Gosh, does time fly fast. 

Sam: How are you walking free?

#Avengers #The Avengers #Avengers on crack #avengers imagines #avengers incorrect quotes #marvel incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect avengers quotes #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson incorrect quotes #incorrect sam wilson quotes #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x assasin!reader #sam wilson x hydra!reader #hydra!reader #avengers x hydra!reader #marvel x hydra!reader

[lizamango]

Cruel World 1/? (Brainwashed HYDRA!Reader x Steve Rogers)

summary: A war between SHIELD and HYDRA rages on in the shadows of the world. You live for the kill as a Black Widow until you discover Steve Rogers, the weapon for the opposing side who makes you question the side you’ve been fighting for. (inspired by Underworld, just go with the lore on this fit pls)

warnings: smut later, cussing, canon typical violence

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wc: 4384 (ik my first chaps are always insane)

The war between SHIELD and HYDRA had ended when SHIELD’S prize was defeated by Johann Schmidt, the leader of the faction at the time. The prize was killed in a blaze of fire and ice, hope was lost for SHIELD, causing them to scatter into hiding.

Now, HYDRA puppets the world’s leaders, in charge behind closed doors, everyone in their pockets. The superior faction. Made up of Assets and Widows.

7 Decades have passed since the day SHIELD’s beloved prize was defeated and yet pockets of SHIELD would stubbornly attempt to put up a fight against HYDRA. Weapons have evolved since then, as did technology. However, our purpose remains.

Hunt them down and kill them off. A once tireless crusade, now approaching its end as SHIELD nears extinction. A pity for those like me, a Black Widow, who lived for the hunt.

“Sestra, I have eyes on the entrance,” Oksana announces through the radio. “One guard.”

“One guard? Sloppy,” Yelena remarks.

“Terpeniye,” I order. Patience. “I’m going in. Watch my six.” I jump down from my perch on a tree, my legs feeling the jolt of my landing. Our suits are white to blend into the snowy environment.

“Show off.” I know Yelena is rolling her eyes.

“You’re just jealous,” I tease. I always was stronger, faster and more agile than other Widows. Perhaps that’s why Dreykov favours me.

“We got the same training, suka.”

I smirk and pull out a knife from my sleeve. I approach from the side of the entrance and slit the throat of the guard. I use his keycard to unlock the doors.

“Clear,” I announce into my radio. In no time Oksana and Yelena are at my side. Our orders are simple; kill all SHIELD agents and report any new intel.

The facility is surprisingly large for a faction that has been driven to near extinction but I assume it’s an older facility back from when they had larger numbers…

There are floor plans on the wall next to the elevator. This place isn’t heavily guarded at all. “Yelena, take the ground floor, Oksana clear subfloor one then meet me by the north staircase of subfloor two and we rendezvous by the helipad. Clear?”

“Crystal,” they reply.

We split up, following the orders I gave. There were no guards manning the staircases and besides the entrance, no other doors I approach require a keycard.

I enter a room that looks like an office space. I frown, SHIELD isn’t supposed to be this organised. There are files and maps of supposed HYDRA bases… some wrong assumptions while others were a little two close for comfort. I take pictures of the room and some files they have for intel. One file is particularly thick, stamped with a red Classified and is filled with the name Dr Erskine.

“Hey! Identify yourself!” I hear a yell and look up to see a SHIELD agent in full tac gear and a gun. I throw a widow’s bite at him which stuns him for a few seconds then slide towards him, wrapping my whip around his neck, using it as a garrote. With the snap of his neck I let go and pull him into the room, shutting the door to continue with my mission.

The last room I get to requires a keypad but there’s no time to guess a million combinations so I stab my knife into the side to expose the wiring.

“You are not clear yet?” Oksana teases. I roll my eyes.

“Shut up, I’m working.” I use my knife to strip the rubber casing of the thickest wire and short circuit it with one of my widow’s bites. The door opens to reveal a laboratory. We walk in, on guard. Suspiciously, the lab is empty save for a puddle of water on a gurney and a heart and vitals monitor in the centre.

“What was going on here?” Oksana wonders as she surveils the lab. I find more files, one with wet marks, indicating someone had flipped through the pages with wet hands recently.

Subject woken. Vitals normal. Natural suspended animation.

A photo of a man, a handsome one at that, is stapled to the report. Blonde hair, long lashes and chilled jawline. STEVEN GRANT ROGERS.

I frown.

I pull the photo from the staple and pocket it. I turn to Oksana and hear it before she does. Gunshots. I duck under the gurney and see a flash of black helmets and blonde hair rush toward another exit. I run to follow them, passing by Oksana’s lifeless body. Fuck.

“Yelena, Oksana is down, SHIELD agents headed down south.” I report while following them.

“Oksana?”

“Go through the lab at the end of the corridor and the back door!”

I see that two Agents seem to be protecting the blonde man. I frown and shoot at one of the uniformed agents. As I set eyes on who I assume is a civilian, he enters a submarine with the help of an agent before I shoot that one down too.

I feel Yelena arrive next to me and hear her fire off shots too.

“What the fuck happened?”

I shake my head. “We have to go back to headquarters.”

We run up the stairs to the line of trees where we left our snow mobiles and ride towards our rendezvous point; a helipad atop a now abandoned hospital.

I speak into our radio, “Tac team 12 requesting extraction, one Widow down, medical assistance not necessary, over.”

“Extraction order received, arrival in T minus 16 minutes. Out.” The other line briefly responds.

“What happened to Oksana?” Yelena asks again.

I shake my head. “Shield agents shot at us. I got both of them back but someone else was there. He got away.”

“A civilian?” Yelena raises a brow.

“I don’t think so.” I look through the classified files again. “An asset.”

“SHIELD has no assets.”

“We have to take it up with the council.”

“That means bringing it through Rumlow,” Yelena says.

I sigh. Rumlow. He’s, for lack of a better term, obsessed with me. And not in a good way. I don’t know who to trust. Johann Schmidt is the Hydra high command of the decade and he has claimed for 70 years that he had been the one to take down Steve Rogers. To take down SHIELD’s organisation. How could I possibly bring this conspiracy to the attention of my faction?

The sound of the chopper interrupts my thoughts.

“You could bring it to Melina?”

One of Dreykov’s older Widows and importantly, trusted.

The chopper lands and we enter. It takes us swiftly back to the Red Room.

To no one’s surprise, Rumlow is waiting for us. We walk right passed him.

“What happened? You lost a Widow?” A Widow hasn’t been lost to this war in 7 years. That’s how weak we believe SHIELD to be. Not anymore it seems. Having the prize back may just be the turning point they need to gain an advantage over us.

“Oksana was shot down by SHIELD agents,” Yelena answers.

“What?” Rumlow spits out. “How is that possible?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out,” I say, choosing to avoid telling him the whole story or whatever part of the story I have.

“Where are you going?”

I stop and turn to face him. “I’m going to Melina. We need better weapons if SHIELD is firing at us.”

“You’re not going back out on a hunt tonight.”

“That’s not for you to decide, is it? Your orders don’t extend to the Widows.”

“The succession is in two days, we need everyone of importance to be here, at the stronghold getting ready for the ceremony. Even this mission was a risk, clearly I should have trusted my gut because now a Widow is dead!” He’s lucky the Succession is for Pierce and not Dreykov who would go to the ends of the earth to avenge a fallen Widow. Coward. I almost say it out loud.

Rumlow scoffs at my silence and stops following me.

“Wow, you know how to rile him up,” Yelena comments.

“6 years of his obsession, I know how to handle it by now.”

“Yikes. I would have just killed him.”

I laugh but roll my eyes. “Did you find anything on your sweep?” I ask, realising I didn’t get a debrief from her.

“Just four agents but it didn’t look like they had any sort of planning, sure organisation because that was the most we’ve seen in such a big location but…” Yelena shrugs.

“No lab?”

“Nope.”

I nod. “How are you dealing with Oksana?”

“I’m fine,” she responds in the least convincing tone. “I’m going. There’s that gala tonight.”

“There’s a gala every night,” I scoff, not keeping up with the social calendar. I continue to make my way to Melina’s lab.

“Come in,” she says before I can knock, though the glass doors make it pointless. “What do I owe the pleasure, detka?”

“We have a problem.” I pull out the photo from my pocket.

Melina frowns. “What am I looking at? The newest supermodel? He’s a bit too muscular for fashion, isn’t he?”

“This is serious, Melina.”

“Elaborate, detka.”

“I found files on him at the SHIELD facility we were sent to. I think it’s the prize.”

Melina cackles. “That means nothing. The SHIELD faction were fanatics about their Captain America,” she says in a mocking tone. “Star spangled banner propaganda bullshit. Look at them now, rats just trying to survive a burning ship. What has their Captain America done for them?”

“Could it be possible that he is still be alive? Maybe-Maybe Schmidt missed something.”

“Izmena,” she scolds. Treason.

“I saw them protecting someone. The agents I killed. He got away.”

“The succession is days away. You can wait that long.”

No. Right now, who ever that blonde man is, he’s disoriented and that means careless. He must be the one in the picture, why else would they have his file in a lab if not to do research?

“You cannot confront the council with this. It is a death sentence to question Schmidt, even for you.”

“Dreykov would believe me.” I take the photo and go to my room. I wash off the grime and dirt from my hair and stand under the shower for a while, thinking. Where would this prize go? If I was believed to be dead all these years… home would be my first stop. I get chills just thinking about it. Home. The warmth I used to feel as my parents came home from work, surprising us with food or toys. My sister…

I turn the shower valve and dry off. I opt for a casual black leather suit, not the attire for the gala Rumlow will no doubt be hounding me about. All we know about SHIELD’s prize is that he was from New York.

I leave discretely as the decadence of the gala distracts everyone else. I make my way up to the hanger and get into a quinjet. They won’t miss one…

I’ve flown a jet before, just never alone and outside of a mission. It feels forbidden. I turn off tracking and communications before anyone can sense my disappearance. I land the jet in a clearing outside the city of New York and activate cloaking.

I walk into a library and find the American history section, also known as works of fiction with the lies they spread and infect their people with…

World War II. Captain America.

The text reads.

Captain Steven Grant Rogers grew up in Brooklyn, suffering from numerous health problems for which he was denied from enlisting five times before he was recruited by Dr Abraham Erskine’s Project Rebirth as the only person in the world to receive the Super Soldier Serum.

What made him so special? I think as I flip the pages, looking for a clue.

In 1943, Rogers single-handedly liberated 150 captured troops from a Nazi base in Austria.

A raid on a Nazi transport train led to the capture of Nazi scientist Arnim Zola and the unfortunate death of Howling Commando and best friend of Steve Rogers, James Barnes.

There is a passage on James Barnes and his relationship with the prize along with a photo of the two, dated at 1935. They were outside of a brownstone.

“Fan of Captain America?” a young boy asks.

I smile, “pretty awesome hero, huh?”

“My favourite.”

My smile turns into a smirk. A child. Easy to manipulate. “What do you know about his past? Y’know, before the serum and stuff?”

“Well, he was the best guy ever like the only reason he was picked to have the serum was coz he was such a good guy!” I smile and nod along. “His old apartment, in Brooklyn where that photo was taken was turned into a museum! Like that Anne Frank house in Amsterdam.”

“Oh really? Do ya mind telling me the address? I’d love to visit it.”

“Sure!” Did I mention kids were easy to manipulate?

I took a cab to the address and sure enough the apartment was there with a sign going on about America’s glorified hero. I refrain from rolling my eyes. It wasn’t busy, a passerby would pay it no mind if they were just going about their day. I walk up into the apartment. It isn’t anything too special, two bedrooms, a kitchenette, a couch and bookcase as the living room. There are plaques with fun facts about the items. I walk into the second bedroom, smaller than the first. This must’ve been his. There are comic books and photographs on the desk. The plaques explaining who were in the photos and that the comic books are replicas of what he would have entertained himself with because he was too sick to go outside and play with the neighbours. What a sad life. I think back to the space I had in my family home. A mansion, really. The outdoor playground my parents built for us.

An album of the Captain’s drawings is on the bedside table. I flip through it and there are portraits of everything, skyscrapers, people, a park with a bridge in it. Brooklyn Bridge. Next stop.

I spot him immediately. He seems to have acquired some new clothes as the Captain sports a brown worn leather jacket, a tight black shirt and loose fit jeans and boots. He’s sitting on the bench overlooking the bridge and park from the exact angle the sketch seemed to be from.

“You were at that base in Russia,” he says as I sit beside him.

“You weren’t supposed to be there.”

“You killed those agents.”

“They were my orders,” I state.

“Are you here to kill me?” he asks calmly.

“I’m not. I need you to come with me.”

“Oh now you’re asking nicely?”

“You don’t know this new world, I do.”

“I’m supposed to trust you?” he raises a brow.

“Do you see anyone else trying to help you, Captain?”

He chuckles. He’s too… confident. It makes me uneasy and I don’t get uneasy.

“Fine. But you should know, if it comes to a fight… you’ll lose.”

It’s my turn to chuckle. “A threat? Hardly golden boy material. Is this what the American dream entails?”

“There’s something I wanna grab from my apartment first.”

I look at him sharply.

“Just a couple photographs. Memories. I didn’t get a chance to stop by yet. It was full of people.”

“If you try anything…”

He doesn’t. He’s an honest enough man, I think as I watch him look through the photographs on his desk. What must it be like to visit his home after being away for so long? Having strangers pick through and dissect every little thing they find… Something comes into my peripheral vision and I duck as the bullet hits the wall behind me. That’s why you don’t stand in front of open doorways, tupitsa. I throw a widow’s bite at the assailant’s neck and then go down. Another charges towards me but I kick the desk chair towards him and as he topples over I knee him in the face.

“We have to go.” I grab his hand and lead him through the stairs but there are agents waiting for us. I jump up on the railing and kick one agent in the face then jump down to the flight below wrap my legs around another agent’s throat until they passed out. I look up to see the Captain fighting off another two agents. We make our way down, removing anyone from our paths. But as we do this I can’t help but wonder how SHIELD has enough troops for an attack like this?

We get to the alley but there are still agents of SHIELD in our way. One takes out a knife and attempts to slash at the Captain. I throw a widow’s bite at him.

I don’t feel it until the Captain reacts, picking up a trash can lid and throwing it at the shooter. I look down and see my suit darken with the wetness of blood. Fuck.

“Come on!” the Captain puts his arms around me as I press down on the shot to my side, the bullet went straight through. “Keep pressure on it.”

He walks me toward a black car, SHIELD’s. Putting me into the passenger’s seat he rushed to the driver’s side and hit wires the car to start.

“Where did Captain America learn to steal a car?”

“Shut up, we’ve got to take you to the hospital!”

“No. No hospitals. I don’t need-“

“Don’t need?! You’ve been shot!” he shouts frantically.

“I’ll be fine, just t-take me to the safe house.”

“Listen ma’am, you need medical att-“

I take out my hand gun and point it right at him. “Safe. House.”

I give him the address and he reluctantly agrees.

I’ve never actually been shot before… stabbed? Yes. An arrow? Yes. Throwing stars? Definitely.

But never a bullet. I guess I’m usually better at dodging them. Or I usually don’t go out of my way to look out for someone other than myself during battle.

“Captain?”

“Yes?” he answers quickly. Worriedly.

“Never call me ma’am again.”

His chuckling is the last thing I hear as I pass out.

***

Embarrassment is what I would feel if I was conscious enough to. Passing out? The other Widows would never let me hear the end of it.

“You’re awake,” the Captain says and I hear a smile behind his words. “We’re at your safe house… doesn’t look that safe to me.”

“It’s not exactly a safe house. It’s an old interrogation and research facility.”

He frowns. “How’s your wound? I cleaned and dressed it.” I notice that he changes the subject.

“How long has it been?”

“About 14 hours.”

“And you didn’t run out on me?” I ask, in shock.

“How could I when you’re hurt?” he asks back sincerely. This man. He’s supposed to be the enemy.

I straighten myself up and he rushes to my side.

“You’re not supposed to be moving.”

“I feel fine, trust me.”

“You said that then you passed out,” he scolds.

I roll my eyes. “Actually I told you not to call me ma’am before I passed out.” I sit up and he puts a hand on my back which sends a jolt through my spine. I ignore it and lift up my shirt to look at the bandage. “I don’t… I don’t feel anything,” I say slowly, trying to make sense of things.

“What do you mean?”

“When I got shot I was in pain but now it’s like…” I slowly unwrapped the bandage.

“That’s- that’s impossible, I saw it myself, I cleaned and wrapped it up myself. You had a hole in you. Straight through.”

“I don’t understand. I’ve never- I mean I heal fast but not like this.”

“So that’s not the reason you wanted to come here instead of a hospital?” I shake my head. “Have you ever been shot before? Major traumatic injuries?”

“No, I mean I’ve been stabbed and had an arrow hit me before but that still took a couple days.”

His brows furrow. “Now your healing… is like mine.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “Don’t be ridiculous.” I unravel the rest of the bandage from me and put it in the sink, lighting it on fire to get rid of any trace. “No one can know of this, okay?”

“So you’re just gonna deny that you’ve got the serum too?” he challenges.

“Captain, you don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never had the serum and I’m not some jacked up, glorified super soldier, understand?”

“Fine,” he relents. “And my name’s Steve by the way.”

I scoff. “Don’t get too familiar.”

He gives me a pointed look and I give him my name.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You’re too polite, you know that?”

Steve chuckles. “So, what are you planning on doing with me?”

I sigh. “I have to take you back… The people who had you, SHIELD… they want you for your abilities. My people, they can keep you safe.”

“And who are your people?” he challenges. It seems he doesn’t even know what SHIELD is, I realise. Odd because our history states that he was SHIELD’s weapon.

“I’m from the Red Room. We call ourselves Black Widows... We’re tasked with taking SHIELD down. Every last one of them.” I say with such malice I can tell he’s taken aback.

“Why do you hate them?”

“It’s a war, Steve. You would know about those, wouldn’t you?”

“I’ve had my fair share… But you’re avoiding my question. The way you said that… it was more than just a soldier following orders.”

I take him in. His face, his posture. His eyes. The most sincere eyes I’ve ever looked into. Eyes that make you feel safe because they’re on you. I see his jaw clench.

“Fine,” he goes to turn away.

“I had a nightmare that night.” He slowly turns back once I find my voice. “I went to go into my parents’ bedroom but they weren’t there. The bed was unmade, as if they’d gotten out in a hurry. I went to find my sister, she was older so she got the bigger room down stairs. I remember the thunder, it was so cold. The door was wide open, there was paper everywhere. Then I noticed all the blood.”

Steve whispers my name.

“I felt someone wrap their arms around me. At first I thought it was my father. But it was too late for that. The war had spilled into our home, they wanted something my father had but they couldn’t take it. So SHIELD decided that no one could have it. He killed the agents that they had been tracking and saved me.”

“Who did?”

“Dreykov. He founded the Black Widow program. That night, he made me what I am now. He gave me the strength to hunt down SHIELD and avenge my family.”

“He didn’t give you a serum?”

I shake my head. “He trained me. Taught me everything I know. Combat training, tactical knowledge. As he did all Widows.”

“But he treated you differently?” Smart.

I nod. “Like a daughter.”

I can tell he has more questions but he lets the silence hang as I shared the deepest part of myself with him. Essentially a stranger. No other Widows know my story. Most of them didn’t come from such tragedy. Many were given up by families without the means to raise them, others simply abandoned. They don’t know the love that they’ve missed out on. The Red Room is the only home they know.

“I um, I went out to get some food for us while you were passed out.” He’s really good at changing the subject, whether it’s for my comfort or his.

I smile softly. “What did you get?”

“Fruits - strawberries, apples. Stuff to make sandwiches from. I actually-“ he opens up the fridge. “I actually made you one already.”

I raise my brows in surprise. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow. You should be grateful.” He pulls out a ham, lettuce and tomato sandwich.

“Oh, believe me I am.”

I sit at the counter and start to eat. I didn’t realise how hungry I was until now.

“Iced tea,” he rolls the bottle towards me. “Tried it. Tastes amazing. Think everything tastes good now… we used to boil everything.”

I scrunch my nose and he laughs.

For a moment it feels like there’s no mission, no responsibilities, no problems. Just this. Having lunch at 4am with a handsome, charming man.

“I saw the photos… read your history books. You had a best friend?”

Steve nods. “Bucky. He was all I had. He was my brother. We grew up together, both really hated bullies so we got along. I never had anyone believe in me like he did. He’s saved my life more times that he knows.” He looks solemnly at his hands which are restless. “We were on a mission on the alps and he saved me at the cost of his own life.”

“There’s nothing you could have done for him. You should know that.” I know the look on his face; the look of guilt and regret. The thoughts of I should’ve done more.

He nods though I know it’s still on his mind.

“You’d think after 70 years I’d be over it.”

“Well, it was only a couple of days for you. Technically.”

He smirks in amusement. “Technically.”

“Steve. We should get going…”

“Yeah, gotta follow through your mission, don’t ya?”

We leave the safe house and get into the car Steve stole.

“I have a quinjet in a clearing outside of New York. We can take it and get back to the Red Room.”

I start the engine and I can see the gears turning behind his eyes.

“Who started the war?”

“It’s a war for power so SHIELD did. They take everything. So we stop them. That’s all we know. Digging into the past is forbidden.”

“What will you do when we get to the Red Room?”

“I don’t trust the current powers in charge… Dreykov will know what to do.”

🖤🖤🖤

Was this too fast pace, pls lmk!!

part 2

#marvel #reader insert #mcu #reader #fanfiction #steve rogers #captain america #captain america fanfic #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #black widow!reader #hydra!reader #hydra #brainwashed!reader #underworld #winter soldier

[dimepdf]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑. + 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

synopsis. with the aid of the Avengers and his closest friend Steve, Bucky was able to regain some of his memories before Hydra, but the nightmares of the young girl he had left behind continued to haunt him. Bucky's trauma was deeply ingrained in the spaces of the Hydra facility, thinking about the little soldier who had been on the run and had no interest in her powers or Hydra stuck in his mind.

pairing. james 'bucky' barnes x reader

genre and warnings. ex hydra!reader, kid fic, major angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, descriptions of violence, minor character death, mentions of murder, manipulation, brainwashing, kidnapping, trauma, more tags will be added in future chapters. 

status. ongoing ─ coming soon

─── ☆ chapter one: .

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Part 1  (Avengers, Black Widow, Guardians of the Galaxy) Part 1

Part 2  (Shang Chi, WandaVision, Loki, Hawkeye, Moon Knight, Ms. Marvel, TLaT, Deadpool)

Spiderman and Venom (Holland, Maguire, Garfield, Venom, No Way Home)

Avengers cast

#dad look its the good kush #venom!reader #borrower!reader #hydra!reader #supersoldier!reader #vigilante!reader #masterlist #☆

[buckrecs]

Sex Pollen

masterlist | req masterlist

Play Pretend by @wkemeup

When Bucky is injected with a substance that leaves him desperate for release, you offer your help.

In The Dust by @metalbuckaroo

at a shack after a mission, Bucky realizes the ‘dust’ that he thought wouldn’t be effective anymore needs to be brought up. You insist partners are suppose to communicate with each other.

addicted to you by @bonky-n-steeb

you find Bucky to be irresistible after you both get affected by sex pollen.

Left Gasping For Air by @bucksfucks

doused with sex pollen, you & bucky are met with a difficult decision.

Take You There by @heli0s-writes

Sam plays a game called Fuck or Die. It's like he willed it into existence as you and Bucky explore the basement of an old Hydra lair.

Chemical Reactions by @slut4buckysarm

bucky barnes joining in on your solo mission was the worst part of the night. that was until the both of you got dosed with sex pollen.

Daisies by @rebeccccccaaa

Bucky gets hit with that god awful (but really hot) sex pollen.

burning desire by @lanadelreyscokewhor3

after being sprayed with sex pollen on a mission gone wrong, bucky is the only man who can help you. the issue? you hate his guts.

A Piece of His Heart by @thefanbasewhore

Bucky has been struggling with himself for a few months now but never reaches out for help. In order to confront him, you lock him in the lab but only to find out it was on lockdown for a reason and you're now stuck to quarantine with him

only the two of us by @barnesafterglow

stuck together, you and bucky find yourselves in an unfortunate position (or maybe not)

Mean It by @gogolucky13

You and Bucky get trapped overnight in the safe house after a mission. Everything should be okay, except he's your ex and thanks to his carelessness, the situation gets a little more complicated.

Comply by @gogolucky13

With Hydra, everyone is a prisoner.

your hands have made some good mistakes : part 21 by @thenhewaswrongaboutme

The team comes home for a pre-Thanksgiving gathering. Everything is going swimmingly, until Thor breaks out the Asgardian whiskey.

Little Bit of Pollen by @simsadventures

You and Bucky are both Avengers, but that doesn’t mean you have to like each other. What happens when you two are the only one present when you breathe in a sex pollen?

Dosed by @moonstruckbucky

Sex pollen? Sex pollen.

keep your eyes on the road (aka an unexpected sex pollen adventure) by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Honestly, this is what Bucky gets for not listening to you.

for your own good by @witchywithwhiskey

bucky barnes is gifted a strange-looking plant but when you, his closest friend in avengers tower after steve rogers, touches the leaves, it lets out a strange cloud of pollen. both you and bucky soon feel the effects of the plant's pollen and, though bucky's worried about hurting you, you know he never would—and you need his help. desperately.

Petals by @biteofcherry

Bucky and reader is stuck in a cabin in the woods.

Desperate by @buckets-and-trees

Enemies? Rivals? It's always been reluctant teamwork between you and the Winter Soldier, but when put in a situation where personal feelings have to be put aside, maybe actual personal feelings are uncovered.

Thrill me, Fulfill me by @samodivaa

You agreed to help for one mission—now you are both lustful and carnal, affected by sex pollen—you are flint, he is tinder.

Imagine by @buckyalpine

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series #winter soldier x reader #sex pollen #bucky barnes x agent!reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky barnes sex pollen #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x hydra!reader

[questionableratatouille00]

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐’𝘥 𝘋𝘰 (𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘠𝘰𝘶)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky explore ways to practice non-sexual intimacy.

Warnings: Non-sexual nudity, implied past SA, bad therapist Dr. Raynor, showering together, implied panic attack, let me know if anything else needs to be tagged.

Help! I haven’t read the first part!

“You struggle with intimacy.” Dr. Raynor’s unmistakable voice rang through his head.

He glared at her, his brows furrowed. “What?” His voice was slightly hoarse, so the word came out all croaky.

“You struggle with intimacy.” She repeated. “It’s common in victims of sexual abuse and assault. And you’ve got over fifty years of that.”

Bucky grimaced at her blunt choice of words. “So..what?”

“So, we’ve got a lot to work on. You’ve got any relationships? Friends, partners?” Dr. Raynor asked. “What about the girl you’ve mentioned?”

“I have friends.” He grumbled.

“Good. What about your relationship with your girlfriend? Are you two intimate?”

He clenched his fists. “That doesn’t sound like a professional question. Do you ask all your clients about their sex lives?”

“Just answer the question, Mr. Barnes. Are you intimate with your girlfriend?”

“No.” The word rotted in his mouth. He felt an overwhelming sense of shame as he was positive that Raynor was disappointed for some reason.

She scribbled something down in her notebook and Bucky felt like he was going to throw up.

“Try and build up trust and intimacy through non-sexual means.” She suggested.

When he raised a brow, she continued. “Cuddling together. Sleeping next to each other. Take baths or showers together. Be naked around each other. Work up to that one slowly.”

He didn’t think it would help his weird sex problems.

“Ask for what you need. The world won’t end.”

Bucky just shook his head bitterly, looking away as he clenched his metal fist tighter.

“…Hey.” You whispered as you looked at him. He felt a smile creep onto his face.

“Hey.” He echoed.

“You’re watching me while I sleep, now?” You chuckled.

“Maybe.” He gently played with a strand of your hair.

“You alright?” Your voice was warm, sleepy. He felt a warmth bloom within his chest.

“Mhm.” He answered after a moment. “Y/n?” He asked gently after your eyes fluttered back shut.

“Hm?” You didn’t open your eyes.

“Can..can we cuddle?” He asked. To his surprise, the world didn’t end.

“What?” You blinked your eyes open. He felt a pit of shame form in his stomach.

“Never mind. It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” He shook his head.

“No, no. What did you say?” You smiled encouragingly.

“…I asked if we could cuddle.” He muttered. He asked for what he needed. And the world didn’t end.

“Sure, hon. You want me to hold you? Or..” You offered.

He nodded. “I want you to hold me. Please.”

You lifted your arm, and he awkwardly shuffled over towards you, not quite sure what to do. “What..where do I—“

You chuckled a little, shifting slightly to lay on your back. “Just lay your head on my chest, if you’re comfortable.”

He nodded, doing so. He could hear your heartbeat. His right hand drifted to your stomach to gently play with the fabric of your shirt.

“This all right?” You asked gently as you rubbed circles into his back.

He nodded. “Yeah. Thank you.” He said earnestly.

“Anytime. Always.”

“Hey, honey?” He asked suddenly as he dried the last plate.

“Hm?” You turned off the sink and turned to look at him.

C’mon. Don’t back at now, he told himself. “Do you..do you want to take a shower together?”

He watched as your eyebrows raised. But the world didn’t end.

“Yeah. We can do that. You sure you want to? There’s never any rush.” You assured him. He knew you meant well, but he felt like you were treating him like he was glass.

“I’m sure, honey.” He exhaled. “I’m..not glass. You don’t need to walk on eggshells around me.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was.”

“It’s okay. I’m—I’m not mad. I just wanted you to know that you don’t need to treat me differently.”

“Alright. No differences. Scout’s Honor.” You did the Girl Scout sign with your hand.

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Let’s go shower.” You suggested, and he nodded as he followed you to the bathroom.

He watched as you turned on the shower, waiting for it to warm up as he grabbed two towels.

He watched as you pulled off your shirt. You were absolutely gorgeous, and he couldn’t help but stare.

You chuckled a little as you caught him, and he smirked slightly. He pulled off his own shirt, and that’s when things felt a little off. Not inherently bad, but…wrong.

He tried to push away the feeling as you stripped down to your underwear.

He fiddled with the button and zipper of his jeans. He barely noticed as his breathing began to become more intense.

“Buck?” Your voice snapped him from his thoughts.

“What?” His voice sounded strange to his own ears.

“You’re breathing all weird. You okay?”

“I..I can’t.” He shook his head, before rubbing at his eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay. No worries. Today’s not the day; no rush.”

He frowned deeply. “I’m sorry.” And he felt sorry. He felt like shit.

You reached for his hand. He let you take it.

“Don’t be sorry.” You rubbed his knuckles with your thumb.

He gave you a small, weak smile. “Okay.” He failed. It didn’t work out. He had to be at least somewhat broken.

But the world didn’t end then, either.

“I want to try again.” He told you a few weeks later.

“Try..what?” You raised a brow.

“Showering together.” He stated.

“Okay. Now?”

He nodded. “Now.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.” You agreed, and you both walked to the bathroom together.

This time, he pulled off his shirt and sweatpants with ease, standing there in his black boxers.

You pulled off all your clothes, checking the water to make sure it was warm.

Slowly, but surely, he slid his boxers down his legs and stepped out of them. He stood before you, completely naked, but he knew that you didn’t have a single thought of judgment in your mind.

“You wanna get in first?” You offered. He shook his head. Logically, he knew it didn’t really matter who got in first. But he figured that maybe a sense of being sure he was able to leave would help him if he needed it.

He watched as you stepped into the shower.

And then he did. And the world hadn’t ended.

He smiled at you as he stood so close to you. Close, but not touching. And it was perfect.

“We did it.” He grinned.

“We did.” You grinned up at him lovingly.

He’d done it. Even if it was only a step in a long process, he’d done it.

And the world didn’t end.

A/n: wanted to post this.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #hydra trash party #bucky barnes whump #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic

[buckyalpine]

Destined to be Yours

18+

Bucky x Reader

I’ve had this idea for a while with this concept and I hope it turned out well. This starts off dark with abuse from Hydra and forced breeding but I promise it will be sweet and fluffy afterwards throughout and with a happy ending. Please let me know if you liked this! 

Warnings: Angst, abuse from Hydra, forced breeding, pregnancy, so so much fluff, protective adorable Bucky, protective team, soft sweet smut

“Extract what we need” The doctor nodded to the nurse, injecting the asset with another sedative before the nurse laid out the vials, taking what she needed from the soldier as he laid unconscious. She worked quickly before he woke up, storing all the samples in a secure vault, dropping the temperature of the freezer to ensure they’d remain potent. His limp body was dragged off, locking him and chaining him in a cell, timing an hour before they would extract again. 

And again.

And again. 

“Sir, we have collected over 50 samples. 35 trails have been unsuccessful, the serum in the sample is too potent-

“THEN WE HAVE TO KEEP TRYING” The scientist boomed, his eyes wild while the doctor swallowed thickly, not arguing further. “The last of Zola’s serum was used on him. He is the perfect asset. Hundreds of kills. The world didn’t even know if he was real. A ghost. We don’t have another like him, keep extracting until his body can’t produce anymore” 

The scientist paced around the room, mind reeling over how long it would take until they were successful. They’d managed to capture the solider once again but it’d only be a matter of time before earths mightiest scum came for him. He shook his head in disgust and fury, glaring at the timer. 

“We finally got him back. We can’t loose him again”

 “There is a new potential we can use” The head doctors eyes lingered to the cell of their latest captive; hopefully this one would be strong enough to bear the child of the winter soldier.  

CELL 00

FEMALE, TRIAL #36

She blinked awake, confused about where she was, shivers running down her spine at the cold air that nipped her skin. She was barely able to focus her vision, left in nothing but her underwear; the last thing she remembered was feeling the jab of a needle to her neck. 

Then darkness.

Now she was here.

Locked in a cell. 

She went to rub her eyes, shocked to find her wrists bound in heavy shackles. She wanted to scream but sound wouldn’t come out, soundless cries ripping from her chest. The sound of whispers in a foreign language made her retreat to the back of her cell but it was pointless; where would she even go? 

“Prepare her for incubation” 

“What if it doesn’t work-

“THEN WE TRY AGAIN. Prepare her with the sample. We don’t have much time before they try to take him back” 

The door of the cell slammed open; a man in a white lab coat stalking over to her with two nurses in tow. Before she could blink, another needle was plunged into her veins, the world around her going hazy and muffled as the shackles were unlocked. They fell to the ground with a clink as she was carried out, the world fading black again. 

****

“Landing in 5, everyone suit up” Tony called out while Steve was already at the edge of the drop, waiting for the jet to open. Everyone joined by his side, jumping out as soon as the doors opened, landing softly on the snow covered roof. 

“I’m getting a heat signal from the lower west wing” Sam looked at the feed from Red wing, joining Steve while Tony, Nat and Clint went to clear rest of the Hydra facility. 

“Let us know when you have Barnes, explosives set to detonate in 10 minutes” Tony’s voice carried through the coms while Steve and Sam made their way through the maze like halls, each lit with flickering florescent lights. They reached the lab area, pushing through the doors and down to the cyro chambers and cells, to find Bucky lying down on a lab table, chains wrapped around his metal arm to keep him down. 

“Bucky, hey pal” Steve shook Bucky awake, breathing a sigh of relief seeing the soldiers eyes flutter open. 

“Steve?” Bucky blinked, looking up at his best friend hovering over him while he was still strapped to a table, a mild sedative dripping from an IV in his flesh arm. 

“Wakey, wakey cyborg” Sam carefully removed the IV, collecting some to test in the lab for when they got back. 

“Gotta say, didn’t expect deja vu like this” Steve cocked an eyebrow, remembering the last time he had found his friend in the exact same position after Hydra had first start to experiment on him. 

“Shut up punk” Bucky snorted, groaning as he flexed his limbs before tearing himself away from his chains and following Steve and Sam out of the cell. The three men paused when they realized the cell beside Bucky’s wasn’t empty. You were laying in what appeared to be a flimsy hospital gown, also strapped to your bed with a few more machines attached to you. 

“We can’t leave her” Bucky quietly stepped into your cell, his heart breaking over your fragile state. There was no way you had come to Hydra willingly and there was no way he was going to leave anyone behind if he had the chance to set them free. 

Steve nodded while Bucky grabbed a blanket to cover you up, carrying you carefully in his arms. You hardly stirred as he carried you out and down the hall, meeting the rest of the team outside beside the jet, quickly getting inside before the base blew up. 

“Are they dangerous?” Tony nodded in your direction while Bucky continued to cling onto you, a part of him always protective of anyone that had gone through Hydras torture. 

“Don’t know” Bucky murmured, he truthfully had zero recollection of what had happened to him in the past month. He had been under constant sedatives and fed through tubes. Whenever he slipped into consciousness, his body would ache but he would have no idea why. He certainly had no idea who you were or why you had been captured. “Don’t even remember anything much myself” 

“Guess we’ll find out” Nat shrugged, giving Bucky another blanket to cover you with when you shivered in his arms. As soon as the jet landed, the medical team was ready to whisk you away though Bucky was reluctant to let you go. He was about to argue when his own body started to give way to exhaustion; Steve and Sam caught him before his knees hit the floor. 

“C’mon, we gotta get you looked over” Steve pushed Bucky onto one of the stretchers, letting another team sweep him away to the med bay while Sam took samples of whatever Bucky had pumped with to Tony’s lab. 

-

You blinked in confusion at the new room you were in, the bed you were resting on far more comfortable than what you had been given in your cell. You were too scared to move, hearing the faint sound of beeping from the machines that were attached to you. The beeping grew faster as your heartrate picked up, struggling to calm yourself, fearing you’d be punished for panicking. 

 “Good morning” A soft voice spoke to you, your eyes hesitantly looking over to the man that entered the room with a warm smile on his face. He jotted some notes down, looking over your file once more.  “I’m Dr. Banner, you can call me Bruce. I’m going to ask you a few questions, but don’t worry if you can’t remember right away. Are you able to recall anything from when they captured you?”  

You shook your head while Bruce continued to carefully check over you, his touch caring and gentle, unlike what you had been previously subjected to.

“I-I don’t know what happened after they took me” You whispered, desperately wracking your brain, trying to piece together the foggy memories you had. “I’m sorry, I wish I could-

“It’s alright” Bruce pulled you own of the spiral you were about to head down, “Just relax, we’ll work through it. For now, let’s focus on making sure you’re okay. Get some rest and we’ll take this slow” 

“I don’t want to over step, I can take care of myself, you don’t have to do all this-”

Bucky’s heart broke from where he stood outside of your room with Steve and Tony, none of them not wanting to overwhelm you with their presence when you’d just woken up. As soon as he was checked over, Bucky was out of his hospital bed and stationed outside your room, fidgeting with his fingers, occasionally peering inside. No one else would understand the fear you’d have like he did. He could barely remember what happened to him, he couldn't imagine the confusion you probably felt. 

“I feel fine, I promise-

“You’re more than welcome to stay here until you’re better. You’re not 100% healed yet, its better for you to be here where we would actually be able to take care of you in case something comes up” Bruce insisted, helping you lay back down. You couldn’t get up even if you tried, too exhausted and sore to move, whispering a quiet thank you before quickly falling asleep again. 

Bruce quietly added an extra sedative to keep you under, figuring you needed the rest and something to clam your anxiety while they gathered more information over who you were and what you’d been subjected to. He quietly closed the door behind him before making his way over to there the three men were waiting outside of your room. 

“She doesn’t remember anything, which is normal, considering they probably kept her under the entire time they had her” Bruce flipped through your file as they made their way to the conference room; Bucky was reluctant to leave you alone again but he knew nothing much would happen while you were still asleep. 

-

“From what we’ve gathered, Tin man over here was pumped up with enough sedatives and tranquillizers you’d usually use on something the size of a horse” Tony pulled up the lab results of Bucky’s blood work which revealed a large concoction of various drugs he’d been injected with. “So far, nothing as life altering as the serum but it looks like they were trying to experiment on him” Steve’s jaw clenched thinking about Bucky being subjected to more torture though Bucky himself was almost unfazed, not remembering much this time round. 

“This is Y/n, Y/l/n” Tony pulled up a profile on you from what they had gathered, projecting it on the screen, “They captured her for about two months and she was also most likely under for most of the time. Major portions of their lab were already set to self-destruct so we couldn’t gather much on what they were trying to do. She’s just a civilian; wasn’t given the serum either. There's also no record of family as of now” 

“Where do we go from here” Steve spoke up, feeling the tension radiating off his bestfriend who was itching to check up on you, metal fingers whirring. Even if everything seemed okay it never was.

Hydra always had a plan.

Always. 

“The best we can do is let her recover here and keep track of her progress. There’s enough room anyway so it shouldn’t be a problem” 

-

After being monitored for a few days, you were given the all clear to be discharged from the medical wing. Tony gave you your own room, granting access to anything in the compound without you asking. Though you were hesitant at first, Bruce encouraged you to treat the space like it was your home, cooking, reading or exercising, doing things that would help jog your memory and get you back into a normal routine. You trained frequently with Steve and Nat, rebuilding the strength you’d lost from spending so much time confined to a bed. Your time in the kitchen was always spent with Sam between endless recipes passed down from his family and new things he’d picked up along the way. 

Then there was Bucky.

Bucky was quiet but the most protective of all. He was your safe space, the one person who understood the confusion, the violation, the trauma of what you went through. 

He understood waking up in cold sweat, not knowing where you were.

He understood the long hot showers, scrubbing away remnants of their touch. 

He understood the gnawing fear that if they got you once, they’d get you again. 

It didn’t take long for you to grow closer to everyone. In a short amount of time, you were making significant progress, each person playing a role in nursing you back to health. Your check-ups always came back showing no signs of lasting damage or changes in your body; you were almost completely healed. 

Everything was fine until it wasn’t.

You blinked, trying to shake away the spots that started to cloud your vision, figuring the training session was just a little more rigorous than usual but it was a routine you had done many times before without an issue. Steve waited for you to get back into your stance but your knees felt weak, the room suddenly feeling 100 degrees hotter. 

“Y/n?” 

“You okay?”

“Y/n!” 

Steve saw your eyes roll back, darting out and catching you before you hit the floor, immediately sweeping you up and rushing you to the medical wing. Bucky was there in an instant as soon as Steve told him, both of them waiting nearby while you were rushed away to be checked over, still unresponsive. Bucky paced around the hall while you were hooked up to a few machines, samples of your blood drawn. 

“What happened” You woke up in a daze, rubbing your eyes to get a better look at where you were as you laid on a hospital bed, still in your sweats. A woman who was scribbling notes off to the side of your bed gave you a soft smile, setting the pad down before speaking to you. 

“You were training in the gym with Steve. Do you remember fainting?” 

You shook your head, only remembering your workout last but it hadn’t occurred to you that you fainted. 

“Is something wrong?” The beeps of your heart monitor started to quicken as your anxiety shot up, wondering if whatever Hydra had done to you was finally taking its full effect - 

“Y/n, you’re pregnant” Dr. Cho rested her hand on top of yours, giving you a gentle squeeze seeing your disbelief, your pulse beating even faster. 

Pregnant.

No.

No.

“W-what?” You felt numb, you couldn’t remember anything from the time you were captured in hydra. How could you be pregnant, you couldn’t even remember the last time you had been so close to anyone, let alone intimate with them. “I can’t be-” Your voice cracked, biting your lip to keep it from trembling, shaking your head. “N-no”

Pregnant. 

No.

As soon as the team heard you were awake, they were by the door waiting to see you. Dr. Cho sat with you to process but it was pointless, the shock wasn’t going anywhere. She nodded to the team as she exited your room, allowing them to see you, letting you make the choice if you wanted to tell them or not. Steve was the first to walk in with Bucky trailing closely behind, everyone else hanging back, not wanting to overwhelm you. 

“What’s wrong” Steve whispered, growing more worried when he saw your eyes start to redden, tears welling along your lashes. You wordlessly shook your head, your hands resting on your tummy, unable to get the words out. It took both men a second to piece together what had you so distraught, their mouths growing dry when they saw the image of an ultrasound still up on one of the machines, your hands trembling on top of your lower stomach. 

“It’s okay sweetheart” Steve held you while Bucky's heart broke seeing your frame shake while you tried to hold in your sobs, tears streaming down your face, curling into a ball. You wanted to hide away from everyone, feeling sick and violated, having no idea how any of this happened. 

“We’re here for you, it’ll be okay” Bucky sat on the other side of the bed, taking your hand in his, rubbing his cool metal fingers over your clenched knuckles. “Whatever you choose, we support you” 

“I don’t - ” You choked out; still reeling over the words Dr. Cho had told you, certain abnormalities in the tests showing there wasn’t any other option for you.

 You had to have the baby. 

“I don’t understand” You whispered, curling into Bucky’s side while Steve left to let everyone else know what was going on. He wrapped his arm around you, holding you close, his thumb gently wiping away the tears that spilled down your cheeks. “How-who-I haven’t even-”

When could this have happened?

Was this why you were taken?

Who was the father?

The last question burned the most, having no idea whose child you were carrying, your heart breaking over your baby never getting certain answers. How would you even answer if they ever asked?

“Shhhh” Bucky held you tighter, rocking you gently while you hid into his chest, wishing you could stay there forever, the one place you felt warm and safe. Tony entered the room a little while later, not bringing up anything directly but still letting you know you had his full support. 

“There’s lots of room” Tony gave you a kiss on the top of your head before letting you go back to sleep. Bucky tucked you in before taking a seat in one of the chairs that was nearby, staying by your side that night until you were able to go back to your room again. 

It wasn’t easy. 

You weren’t sure if this was how normal pregnancies were but you were exhausted. Sick. Weak. The cramps you felt would make you double over in pain and you could hardly hold down a meal without throwing it back up the next hour. Just as before, everyone did their best to try and make everything a little easier but no one compared to Bucky. 

Ever since he knew you were pregnant, he was out to do his best to make sure you were well taken care of. He didn’t know much about pregnancies or baby things in this decade but he’d do his research so you wouldn’t have to worry as much. Over the past few weeks, he was always ready with heating pads for cramps after he saw Wanda and Nat get them for you. He gave you some of his Henley’s after you commented over how you loved how soft the material was. 

Bucky wasn’t just protective over you because of Hydra anymore. He adored how sweet you were. Your smile made him blush. You had gone through so much but you were always so patient and kind, even when you struggled to recall things or lacked rest from nightmares. You were the type of girl he would have taken dancing back in the day, if you ever gave him a chance. 

The type of girl he would have chased after for a second date.

Then a third.

The girl he’d introduce to his ma. 

If only things were different. 

“How you holding up doll” Bucky came by your room with a cup of warm lemon water, the one thing that seemed to soothe the nausea. the smile on his face dropped when he saw your puffy eyes and teary face, softly sniffling, doing a poor job of hiding the fact that you had just been crying. 

“What’s wrong” Bucky whispered, instantly by your side, setting the tea on the side table “Are you okay? Are you in pain doll, I can take you to the med bay-”

“I can’t do this” You whimpered, burying your face in your hands, trying to muffle your cries, “I don’t even know what I’m doing”

Bucky wrapped you up in his arms, rubbing his hand up and down your arms soothingly, “I can’t imagine what it’s like for you doll, do you need any of us to do anything for you? Just say the word, we’re all ready-” 

“It’s not that. Everyone is wonderful but-I don’t want to burden them Bucky. It’s so much to deal with, I’m so scared of so many things, its too much” You trembled in his hold, a thousand fears coursing through you all at once. 

“What scares you the most, doll” He whispered, holding you a little tighter to ground you, hoping he’d have the solution to at least one of your fears, if not all. 

“I-I can’t do this alone” You broke down, terrified over the thought of going through the pregnancy by yourself. Yes you had the team by your side but not having a partner made your heart hurt. This wasn’t how you imagined having your first child. Having no idea who the father was or how any of this happened. Your body always felt like it was on the brink of collapsing and you felt awful that others had to dote on you even if they were more than happy to do so. 

“You don’t have to do this alone” Bucky cupped your cheek to meet his eyes, not letting you look away when you tried to shake your head. 

“James-” You were about to protest, but Bucky wasn’t going to let you doubt his words for a second, his arms pulling you into his lap and holding you securely. 

“M’here” He stated softly but firmly, his hand still stroking your face, gently against your cheek. 

“But-it’s too much, you don’t have to Bucky, I-”

“I’m here” His hand came down to your growing belly, soothing the flutters that pushed against your skin. “For as long as you need me to be, okay? You’re not alone. I got you” He pressed a firm reassuring kiss to your forehead while you melted into him, craving to be held and comforted, the scent of him soothing all your fears away for a little while. 

Bucky saw sides of your pregnancy others never would. He held you during the nights where you couldn’t sleep. He rubbed soothing circles on your back when you felt sick, always getting you a fresh set of clothes afterwards. He cradled your belly when the baby kicked and moved around, his warm and cold hands soothing your aching muscles. 

He was even there during intimate moments, where no words were spoken but he knew what you needed. He’d slip your bathrobe off half way to help rub lotion onto your back which was hard for you to reach, the bigger your tummy grew. You weren’t the most steady on your feet, so you’d keep his henley on when he stepped into the shower to help wash your hair and lather your thighs, never taking advantage of you or touching you inappropriately. He never made you feel self-conscious, even when bloated and huge, stretch marks decorating your skin, breasts growing heavier. 

As you approached your due date, you found yourself changing bras and tshirts more frequently from how much you were leaking; your body already producing more milk than necessary. Bucky was there for you even then, never letting you feel embarrassed about the changes you body was going through. 

Like that morning. You waddled to the kitchen to get some breakfast, too tried to change from the pj’s you had worn, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you searched for a mug. 

“You alright sweets? Can I make you something” You didn’t even realize Bucky was already in the kitchen, instantly by your side, his eyes landing on your shirt first. “I’ll make you some tea and then we can get you changed” Your mind was still hazy, confused over why you had to change until- 

“Oh my god” You wrapped your arm around your chest, your face feeling hot, wondering how you didn’t realize there were two very prominent dark patches on your shirt, hormones kicking into full gear, your eyes already watering. 

“It’s okay, it’s normal, c’mon lets get you changed” Bucky kissed your forehead, slipping off his own shirt and pulling it over your arms before resting his hand at the small of your back to support you and take you to your room. He helped you change out of the dampened tshirt and into something thicker, grabbing some nursing pads to slip into your bra while you sat on the bed. He stayed outside of the room while you got changed and took you back down to make sure you were well fed. 

You tried to remind yourself he was there to help you get through the next few weeks, nothing more, but each day, you fell more and more in love with him, your heart fluttering and breaking at the same time. 

He was there for you because you needed someone. 

Not because he wanted you or to be stuck with a baby that had nothing to do with him. 

Bucky was struggling more than you, wishing he could tell you he wanted to be there for you even after the baby was born. He wanted to hold you through the night just to snuggle up with you, watch movies till the sun came up, dance with you in the kitchen, have his own little family he always dreamed of. It didn’t matter that the baby wasn’t his, he adored you and he was ready to love the baby you were bringing into the world- 

But that wasn’t what you wanted from him. 

You were going through something he couldn't even being to comprehend. He had to support you through this like he promised.

Even if he loved you more than you knew.  

-

It had already been 2 hours. You couldn’t go back to sleep. You hissed, feeling another wave of pain pass through your  body, each one worse than the last. You’d managed to not make a sound until the latest one made you whimper, tears starting to stream down your face. You sniffled, feeling Bucky's metal arm wrap around your belly, rubbing your baby bump up and down while holding you close to him. 

“Shhh, I got you” Bucky’s voice was still deep with sleep, his brows furrowing when your body tensed, gripping at his hand when another contraction started. He held you until it passed before sitting up and moving to the side of the bed, kneeling so he was at eye level. “Sweets, I think we should head down to the medbay, I’m just going to get your bag, okay?”

He kissed your forehead, running to the closet to grab the duffle he packed, slinging it over his shoulder before helping you to your feet. He was not about to let you walk, carefully carrying you in his arms all the way down to Dr. Cho’s wing, making sure you were regulating your breathing as he walked over. 

Once you were all settled in, the team made it down to the waiting area where Bucky was already anxiously waiting in your room by your side, carefully watching over your sleeping form, drowsy from medication you had been given. There was still a bit of time left before you had to push but he wasn’t going anywhere; he sat up when you stirred, placing his hand on top of yours. 

“Hey doll” Bucky smiled softly as your eyes fluttered open, meeting his blue ones. “How you feeling” You could still feel a dull ache throbbing through your whole body, struggling to breath through the pain while a nurse checked on your blood pressure which was lower than normal. 

“Not scared when you’re with me” You tried to sound brave, your voice coming out a whimper as another contraction radiated through you, unable to stop the pained cries. 

“I’m here” Bucky reassured you, kissing the back of your hand while you squeezing, tears already streaming down your face. Dr. Cho checked on you once more while the beeping of your heart rate increased, fire like pain starting to consume you. 

“She’s ready, going to start pushing soon, alright?” Everyone around you moved rapidly but it was all a dull buzz as you drowned in pain, struggling to focus. 

“I can’t do it” You cried, feeling too tired, too weak, sweat covering your body. 

“Hey, look at me, focus on me alright?” Bucky held your hand tighter, his metal one coming to rest on your forehead to cool you down. “Breathe doll, baby’s almost here, you’re doing so good mama, breathe with me” You tried to copy his breathing while the nurse signaled that it was time, the pain getting worse. 

“You’re going to start pushing now, okay? You can do it” His voice grounding, not an inkling of fear showing through, keeping your eyes locked with his. You screamed in pain, using all your energy to push, only to feel resistance as if your body was giving up. 

“Bucky I can’t-”

“C’mon babydoll, push, almost there, m’right here with you” 

You cried out in pain again, squeezing his hand while he continued to hold you as best as he could, reassuring you and kissing your damp forehead.

“JAMES!” Your pained screams had the others worried; Steve paced up and down the hall while Tony stood outside the door. The only solace they had was that you were already in the best hands and Bucky was by your side. 

“One more, look at me, just one more mama” Bucky’s voice cut through your muddled conscious, taking a deep breath before pushing again. 

“Doing good y/n, one big push, that’s the head” Dr. Cho encouraged while you screamed out, mustering all of your strength to push, a piercing cry filling the room moments later. 

“You did it sweetheart” Bucky let his metal hand come down to your beating heart as you slumped back down, panting while the baby was quickly whisked away to be checked on. He sat on the bed, kissing the top of your head, smiling when you refused to let go of his hand, his arm wrapping around your exhausted form. 

“You did so good, so so good doll, so proud of you mama” He whispered, continuing to hold at kiss you while you tried to ground yourself again. You sat up as the doctor walked in, relieved there was nothing you had to worry about as she brought the little one over to you.

“That’s your baby” She smiled, carefully placing the tiny swaddled bundle in your arms, a perfect baby boy resting in your arms. “All 10 fingers, all 10 toes, healthy as ever” 

You kissed his chubby face, cooing as he stirred, his tiny hand wrapping around your finger. Bucky petted your hair while you snuggled with the baby, his heart yearning to tell you how he felt. You rested against his side, both quietly admiring the little one that had now fallen asleep on your chest. There wasn’t a single dry eye in the room when everyone came to visit, everyone cooing and holding the baby, teasing about being God parents before leaving and letting you rest. 

Bucky tucked you under the sheets when you yawned, insisting you sleep for a bit after the baby was put in the basinet beside you bed. He didn’t move from you side, his eyes often flicking up to the heart monitor that was attached to you, a few other machines attached to the little one just as a safety precaution to make sure everything was normal. 

You stirred awake to the feeling of cool metal gently stroking your face, blinking up at protective Bucky, his eyes sullen from a lack of sleep, smiling down at you like you’d hung the moon and stars. 

“Hey sweet girl” 

“Hey” You leaned into his touch, softly kissing his palm while he cupped your face, brushing away a stray tear that slipped down your cheek. “Th-thank you” You whispered, swallowing the lump that tightened your throat, blinking away more tears when the baby stirred with a soft cry. You reached over and rocked him gently, looking over the delicate slope of his little nose and tiny pouty lips, your healthy baby in your arms because of him. “I couldn't have done all this without you. You were with me through everything” By my side through it all. I don’t want you to go. 

Bucky swallowed thickly, his heart beating faster, he didn’t want to stop being there for you. He adored you with his whole heart, his breath hitching in his throat before speaking. 

“Just so you know doll, I-I always wanna be here for you. For both of you” Bucky whispered, his eyes welling with tears at the little bundle cradled in your arms. He didn’t know the first thing about being a dad but he’d do his damn best to help you raise your son. 

“Bucky?” Your eyes were wide, tears now freely flowing down your face, curling yourself up closer to him, wondering if you understood correctly. “Bucky, I don’t even know who the father is-”

“M’not worried about that. I care about you. I love you. If you let me” He cupped your cheek, brushing your face with his thumb, “I promise I’ll take care of you both. I’ll-I’ll do my best, I promise I’ll try, I’ll protect you-”

You cut him off, bringing him down for a sweet kiss, pressing your lips to his, your fingers toying with the soft short curls at the nape of his neck. Bucky smiled against your lips, letting his tongue lace with yours only for a moment, not wanting to tire you, pulling away when you started to pant. 

“I love you” You were breathless, the beeping of your heart monitor nearly alerting the nurses, “I love you so much” 

“I love you, sweetheart” Bucky stated sincerely, knowing you’d found your way to his heart a long time ago. 

“Kiss me again” You tugged at his dog tags while he let out a soft chuckle, peppering your face with kisses before claiming your lips again. 

“Get some rest mama” He carefully took the baby from you, settling him in the crook of his arm, while you closed your eyes knowing your little one was in the safest place he could possibly be. Your baby responded to Bucky’s voice the same way he did when he was in your belly, cooing and yawning, drifting off to a peaceful sleep, nuzzling into his chest. 

“I’ll be there for you” Bucky whispered to the sweet bundle, softly rocking him so he wouldn’t stir. “Won’t ever leave you or your mama”

-

Tony gave you a new floor for yourself along with a mass of baby presents, everyone sharing quite smiles and glances when they helped Bucky move his things to the floor as well. 

They’d all seen it coming. 

You huffed at the full fridge, having no more room left to pump milk, your body producing bottles and bottles, your hungry baby drinking each one nearly every hour. You couldn’t understand how something so small could eat so much but he’d happily nurse and drink as much as you gave him. He was only 2 months old but already starting to babble and trying to crawl. You remembered the shocked faces of the nurses when they found your son rolling around in his bassinet, holding his head up without a struggle, eyes wide open. Steve was surprised when he had to use a bit of force to pull his finger away from his tiny grip. His features had also changed slightly; the light hair darkened into a chocolate brunettes. His initial darker brownish-grey eyes were now blue. 

“I might be over thinking it but-he’s so strong” You chewed your lip, cradling your son while he nursed from you, his chubby thighs squirming while he gripped your breast, suckling. You were seated in Bucky’s lap with your back resting against his chest, his head on your shoulder, arms supporting yours “What if- there’s something making him develop so fast- 

You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what scared you the most but you didn’t need to say more. Bucky understood the anxieties you felt, the fears that came from being taken by Hydra and used as a puppet. 

Hydra was capable of anything. 

“Whatever it is, it’ll be okay, m’here alright?” He held you protectively, putting the little one to sleep after burping him and pulling you into his arms, “We’ll go to the lab in the morning, it’s gonna be okay” 

-

Tony reassured you whatever they did wouldn’t hurt your little one. You were both given a mild sedative while Bruce took blood and DNA samples, running it through the systems while Bucky waited patiently though Sam and Steve could see he was nervous on the inside, constantly glancing over to you and peering over the baby bassinet. Two hours later, Bruce and Tony walked back in, glancing over at each other while Bucky shot out of his seat, nearly losing his balance if it wasn’t for Steve who was by his side to steady him. 

“Is she okay? The baby?” His eyes were pleading with them, unable to read their expressions, something was off. 

“We ran some tests” Bruce started off slowly, looking down at the file, “The baby is enhanced”

“What does that mean” Bucky’s heart started to race while Tony continued. 

“Well...that could mean hydra experimented on her” but...”

“But?”

“But nothing came up for her. No experiments. It’s definitely her baby, Hydra didn’t implant someone elses embryo in her. So if the baby is enhanced, its from the father...he’s enhanced with the super soldier serum”

“I was the only super solider on that base” Bucky whispered, his eyes growing wide, looking at your sleeping form. 

“Does that mean...?” Steve’s eyes were wide, looking between the baby and Bucky, smiling at the similarities that made sense now, your son, a spitting image of his father. 

“The baby...the baby’s mine” Bucky was nearly breathless while Sam grasped his shoulder, helping to ground him. 

“How do you know for sure” 

“They only had one vial of the serum they used on me years ago. Never replicated it...that’s-that’s why they took me again” 

“Blood test confirms it. It’s the same serum. DNA matched with what we have on file for Barnes.” Banner nodded, scrolling through the test results, “That’s Bucky’s baby” 

Bucky felt 1000 emotions all at once, but nothing was stronger than the pure love he felt in that moment. He already loved your baby like his own but there was something comforting in knowing his son was safe, that there wouldn’t be any unexplained secrets he wouldn’t know the answer to. He cradled his son to his chest, kissing every inch of his face, while sitting by your bed, while you started to wake up. 

“Doll?” He whispered, brushing your hair out of your face, his heart beating anxiously in his chest again, both excited and nervous to tell you. Of course you loved him but what if you didn’t like it, what if you were disappointed, what if

“What is it” You sat up, noting his worried face while Bucky glanced down at his son sleeping in his arms, sucking in a breath before speaking. 

“M’the father” His voice was barely a whisper, tears streaming down his cheeks as soon as the words left his mouth. He was the father. That was his baby. 

“What?”

“He’s mine” Bucky sniffled, giving you a sad broken smile, “M’sorry baby, they used you because of me-

“You’re sure?” You didn’t let him finish, only hearing the words he’s mine, repeat over and over again, not a single other thing mattered to you. “Please Bucky, this is our baby? He’s yours?”

“This is our baby” He nodded, his forehead pressed with yours before kissing you over and over again, cuddling his son closer to his chest. 

“Our baby” You cried with him, reaching for the now missing box of tissues, looking up to see Sam hiding it behind his back while Steve quietly passed a tissue to Tony. 

“Congratulations, babydaddy” Tony snorted into a tissue before leaving the lab with the rest of the group to give you some privacy. Bucky took his daddy duties very seriously, his heart always bursting when he held his chubby baby. It didn’t take long for the little one to turn into a tiny menace between his uncles, jumping and running before the age of one with custom high tech toys all around. 

Bucky loved you even more with his entire being, watching you become the sweetest mama, nearly crying each time he saw you both cuddled up asleep or reading together in bed. He took care of you in every way possible, just as before, loving and worshipping every inch of you. 

The only thing that had changed between you and Bucky was the growing need to be closer than ever. In the one way you hadn’t yet. Bucky didn’t pressure you once, waiting till you were ready for intimacy. He nursed your body back to health after you gave birth and continued to dote on you long after, with plenty of cuddles and kisses in between. 

It didn’t stop him from letting his imagination run wild. 

He wanted to touch you, take you apart and put you back together. 

Make you feel good, moan for you, let you touch him in places only you could. 

See you pregnant again- 

Fuck.

He had no idea your imagination was 100 times wilder. 

Dreaming of having his little babies.

How his naked body would feel.

How perfect he’d fit inside you.

Giving him all the kids he wanted. 

“Did you ever think about having kids” You asked him curiously, slinking into his lap after a shower and curling up against his chest, toying with his dog tags.

“I have” He smiled, setting down the book he was reading, wrapping his arms around you instead “a lot actually”

“Did you think of having more than one?” You whispered, trying to press yourself impossibly closer to him, your cheeks growing warmer with what you were hinting at. “Maybe two?”

Bucky licked his lips at your words, letting his hand slip up your sheep shirt to brush over your tummy, humming when he felt your bare body underneath. 

“You want another baby, doll?” He purred while you buried your face into his chest, nodding. Bucky pulled away just enough to slip off your shirt, moving you to lay down, quickly discarding his own clothes immediately after. 

“Wanna do it the right way” He pressed gentle kisses down your neck to your shoulder, “Make love to you when we make our baby” 

“Bucky, please” You pleaded with him, feeling empty, needing him so much closer. You didn’t care about foreplay or a slow build, you just wanted him inside, claiming you. “Wan’ another baby with you” 

“M’gonna give you a baby sweetheart, don’t worry” He cooed, rubbing his cock through your soaked folds, before pressing it against your entrance. “Let’s make a baby, angel” 

His thrusts were soft, slow and gentle, taking his time to savor the feeling of your under him, his lips trailing from your jaw to your neck, down to your swollen nipples. He sealed his lips around your peaked bud, sucking and toying with how sensitive they were. 

“M’so lucky baby” He whispered before kissing your nipples again, “You feed our son so well, you’re such a good mama, y’know that?” You whimpered underneath him, your legs moving to wrap around his waist, tears prickling your eyes. “Best and prettiest mama to our baby boy” He kissed the tears that streamed down your cheeks, washing away any inklings of doubt that occasionally tried to rear its ugly head. 

“You think I’m a good mom?” 

“The best babygirl, wouldn’t have it any other way. Can’t believe I missed out on this once before, you feel so good” He tucked his face against your neck as he started to speed up, letting his body weight fall on you. 

“Fuck-fuck Bucky!” You clawed at his back as he started roll his hips, kissing your cervix with his swollen tip, leaking and dripping in your needy cunt. “I-I love y-you”

“Shhhh, I know” He panted, groaning at the feeling of your pussy pulsing around his cock, your body clinging to him. “I love you, I love our little baby boy, m’gonna love the little one we’re making right now” 

“Give it to me Jamie” You clenched around him making him whimper, fucking you harder, the base of his cock bouncing off your clit each time he thrusted in you. “I’m-gonna-gonna cum Bucky!, gimmie a baby” 

“T-together doll, gonna cum with you, fuck, -oh fuck- Take it mama” Bucky moaned as he stilled, warm spurts of cum bursting from his cock, moaning louder when he felt you throb and milk his cock dry, your own orgasm crashing over you at the same time. 

“M’in love with you sweets” Bucky stayed inside you, whispering sweet nothings while you stayed snuggled against his chest, loving the feeling of being full of him. “You gave me the best thing without knowing it”

“You’re the best thing that happened to me” You smiled, closing your eyes, quickly falling asleep in his arms, his lips pressed against your hairline. He didn’t move an inch, cradling you close; you’d given him everything he’d always dreamed of. 

A family

Love.

Affection.

Even through the mess of Hydra, you brought light into his life. 

You were destined to be his. 

-

I may add a drabble about the second baby, lets see! Lmk what you think! 

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[our-destiny]

Yandere Winter Soldier x GN!Hydra!Reader <3

Trigger Warnings: Hydra employee SA's reader, murder, dehumanization, creepy staring from Winter Soldier, Winter Soldier being protective, Hydra generally being shitty, I continue to be terrible at endings - If I missed anything please tell me

I am not responsible for the media you consume, read the warnings, minors dni

Want to read more of my work? Check out my Masterlist

Word count: 1027

. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ . *  ✯. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ .

The Winter Soldier took a liking to you. He would ignore his handlers, staring at you whenever you're in his line of sight, never taking his eyes off you even while answering his handler's questions. It was unnerving, to say the least. No one knew why he liked you so much, but he didn't really do anything else apart from stare at you so they didn't bother worrying over it, just tried to keep you away from him as much as possible so the soldat wouldn't get distracted. That, however, was a mistake.

He started missing you. Missing your presence, your voice. Soon enough he started asking where you were, refusing to follow orders until he saw you. He had this weird fixation with you and Hydra couldn't do anything about it, he was their best Asset, and you were just a Hydra worker; replaceable. They humoured his desires, making sure to have you in the room with him at all times, which seemed to placate him, being able to watch you made him more... submissive, it seems. Calmer. He went back to following orders, not causing a fuss or refusing to speak. But eventually the Asset wanted more.

He stopped responding to his handlers again, just sitting there, staring at you, not moving or speaking. Up until this point you had never spoken to one another, the soldat just watching you while you squirmed under his harsh gaze, Hydra wondered what would happen if you.. called out to him. Said his name. Gave him orders.

One day the soldier was doing his usual stunt, not responding to his handler in favour of watching you breathe. A few of the officers started whispering among themselves, glancing over at your direction. A minute later the soldat's handler turned to you and spoke.

"You. Talk to it." You stood there dumbfounded. What did he mean 'talk to it'? "Come here. Stand in front of it and talk to the Asset." Hesitantly you stepped forward, his handler moving out of your way so you can stand directly in front of him. The soldat looked up at you from where he was sat, his eyes holding some sort of reverence for you, lips parted in awe. What should you say? You can't ask him how his day was or talk about the weather so what should you say? You settled on his name. Well what Hydra called him at least.

"Soldat." His eyes softened slightly, responding immediately to your word. "Ready to comply."

You glanced back at his handler, not sure if you should continue. After getting a slight nod from the officer you asked him, "Mission report?" Your voice was shaky, not used to giving orders and still not used to the way the soldat stares at you, but he responded anyway. For the first time in who knows how long the Asset complied without any fuss, detailing his mission to you. A feat no other Hydra employee could achieve recently.

Hydra quickly realized that this was the only way to keep their most prized soldier submissive. He'd only take orders if they were from you, always seeming eager to please you, saying "ready to comply" with a bit too much enthusiasm. When he came back from missions he'd relay the details to you, seeming to search your face for some sort of approval, like he wanted to know he did you proud, did what he was told to do like the soldier he is. The Asset worked harder, strived to please you, carried out your requests with fervour. You quickly got promoted to his handler. Not much changed, all you had to do was give him orders, orders which you were told to by higher officers. It kept him happy for a while, you having control over him, talking to you daily. But once again, he wanted more.

Other Hydra employees usually tried not to bother you, you were obviously precious to the soldier and crucial to getting the soldat to comply, but recently there was a new employee, a man that had not realized your importance. You could never really get comfortable working for Hydra, still talking with a quiet voice and trying to avoid any attention and he thought he could take advantage of that, cornering you one day in the hallway, pushing you against the wall trying to feel you up. Unfortunately for him the soldat was just returning from a mission and everyone knows the soldat immediately goes to see you after his missions. The Asset was not happy to see someone else feeling up his handler, and he was even more upset that he was making you uncomfortable, forcing you to do something you didn't want to. The Asset handled it a lot more maliciously than he usually would on missions, first focusing on getting the employee off of you, then only focusing on hurting him, nothing else but the crunch of his bones breaking beneath the soldier's metal fist, making him regret even touching you. Only when he was unrecognisable did he stop, turning to you to grab you, holding you in his lap, arms slightly shaking, growling at anyone who got too close.

After that... encounter he became more physical in a way. He didn't like it when someone got too close to you, wrapping his arms around you protectively. He got closer in general, getting closer to your face while staring at you, eyes lingering on your lips, so close you could feel his breath on your face. Sometimes he got confident, brushing his lips over your temple or cheek, as if testing the waters. Gradually, he applied more and more pressure to those half-kisses, until he was kissing you fully and often, whenever you gave him an order or he came back from a mission he'd kiss you, sometimes on the cheek, on the forehead if he was feeling particularly protective, but mostly on the lips.

It was some sort of fucked up obsession the soldat had for you, the want for you to own him and for him to own you, you're his and he's yours, no one else matters.

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Reblogs make tumblr go around and are very much aappreciated <33

#yandere marvel #yandere bucky x reader #yandere bucky barnes #yandere bucky #yandere winter soldier #yandere mcu #yandere marvel x reader #dark mcu #dark marvel #dark bucky x you #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!buckybarnes #dark winter soldier #the winter soldier #winter soldier #also note that i do not like hydra #fuck hydra

[marvelflame2010]

Bucky: Who hurt you?

Y/n with a black eye: Pft, you want a list?

Bucky going into over-protective dad mode: Yes, actually.

#incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect avengers #avengers incorrect quotes #incorrect avengers quotes #marvel incorrect quotes #marvel incorrect #incorrect bucky quotes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x teen!reader #bucky x teen reader #bucky barnes incorrect quotes #incorrect bucky barnes #bucky x daughter!reader #bucky x ex hydra teenager #bucky x ex assassin teenager

[buckets-and-trees]

Warm Shadows - Carving Through the Dark (3/4)

Fandom: MCU Collection: Warm Shadows [ part one | part two ] Title: Carving Through the Dark Characters/Pairings: established Alpha!Bucky x f!Omega!Reader, Alpha!Steve x f!Omega!Reader Word Count: 14.4k

Summary: Worse than a nightmare because it's real, Bucky has to track down his kidnapped omega and the man - the super soldier - who had been his closest friend turned into the dark, rival alpha, Captain Hydra.

Content Warnings: DARK, a/b/o dynamics, angst, explicit smut, vaginal intercourse, consensual forced orgasm

Logistical Notes: Shhh - yes this was the final story update I had planned for the Dark Forest Fest and it's the first week of January! But. Well. The word count. But we're here now, okay? Title taken from Hozier's Who We Are.

Additional Notes: Okay, I know that I did a poll asking last month if folks wanted the final chapter split into two parts or just one long chapter and - er - I kind of did both. I did not split this chapter, but a couple of days ago I realized we needed a fourth and final part. Lastly, @biteofcherry has been an absolute lifeline during the composition of this chapter - thank you for putting up with my conjectures and letting me piece together some of the elements. And even a little thank you to @rookthorne for cheering and bullying me over how long this got.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“I can’t help you,” Shuri states, though there’s the flicker of it almost being one final question of it in her eyes.

“No,” Bucky confirms. “No more than you already have.”

He knows she says it as one last opportunity for him to change his mind, but also in acknowledgment that he must do this on his own. They clasp hands and then he turns to walk up the ramp of the aircraft.

“James,” she says when he’s nearly gone. He turns back to look at his friend, one who has seen him at the best and worst of times. “Whoever he is now, he knows Bucky, he knows the Winter Soldier, he will have learned everything about the Soldat from their archives, so you must truly be the White Wolf. She knows the wolf, but he does not.”

He nods and then walks further into the aircraft, leaving Shuri behind.

After you’d been violated and taken from him, Bucky had lain in anguish until just before dawn, raging over the loss of his world and everything he’d worked for, built, found, cherished. He would find you again – when he’d sworn, “There’s no corner of this earth you can go where I won’t find you,” it had been a promise to you as much as a warning to the monster – but none of you three were the same after that night.

To be the White Wolf…

It will take all the tactics he learned in the army, that he was forced to acquire as Hydra’s finest assassin, and since he escaped and then truly reclaimed his freedom. As angry as he is, as desolate as he feels, he holds the emotions at arms’ length, he needs to be at the eye of the hurricane so he can maneuver the way he needs to.

Bucky hasn’t been able to feel you. His desperate hope is that it’s because you’re sedated and unconscious and not … not anything else.

In Wakanda he and Shuri hadn’t been able to find even a sliver of a trace of the jet that had come and gone for Steve to enact his plan. It was a statement that whoever he was now, Captain Hydra was utilizing every ounce of knowledge Steve had and blending it with whatever Hydra hat put in him.

Bucky won’t leave a trail either.

It will take Steve time to figure out how Bucky left Wakanda – on foot, ground transport, or air transport – if he can figure it out. But Bucky was the untraceable ghost over fifty years of missions for Hydra, and he didn’t have the motivation he does now.

Bucky devised that going on the already-scheduled aircraft to the Wakandan Outreach Center in Oakland gave him the best options. He assumes Steve would have managed to get into the networks used by the Avengers and SWORD, and since he flew an aircraft in and out of Wakanda undetected and Bucky won’t be able to use Wakandan technology to best him either, so landing in Oakland also puts him in proximity to the hardware, software, and network resources he would need to build his own tech. During his convalescence in Wakanda before the Infinity War, it had been days of goats and technology research and development in the most advanced science facility in the world. He is not the expert that Shuri is, but he knows enough. His aversion to much of “modern” technology has always been due to how primitive it was compared to anything from Wakanda.

It takes weeks, but Bucky acquires the hardware he needs, modifies software, creates the network and protocols he needs to start Hydra hunting, and puts it all to work. He knows what to look for – the patterns, the seemingly innocuous inconsistencies – and he knows it because he was running data point for the team of analysts dedicated to Hydra hunting before this. He had taken more responsibility at the base of operations and fewer and fewer field assignments to be home and build his life with you.

Bucky doesn’t hesitate in ignoring any ethical limits whatsoever for his surveillance protocols. When he was working within the system, they had established some lines they weren’t willing to cross.

With seven billion humans in existence and him alone looking for two, lines to cross no longer exist.

He knows he will never get his life back, but he will not let anything prevent him from getting you back.

He puts every piece into play immediately as he builds, sleeps only the bare minimum. Truthfully he had only indulged in more than the minimal sleep a super soldier needed these past years because it was time spent blissfully with you.  Without a reason to rest, he didn’t have any problem cutting back to short sleep allotments to keep him operating at peak condition.

In putting his own tap into the Avengers’ database, he studies the work that had gone on while he was gone for his annual retreat away with you. He discovers that Steve and Sam followed leads in Europe.

“Damn you idiots,” he murmurs.

The reports show his two friends go dark after losing comms nearly a month ago. A team went in after them and their debrief says they found only their communication devices. ‘Search ongoing…’

That was a month ago.

He knows the status of Steve.

Sam could be a live asset in play, an asset still being trained and molded by Hydra, their prisoner for torture, or he could have been eliminated already.

It takes him sixteen days from the beginning of his build to finish – he’d been collecting intelligence, but once everything is in play and he continues to hone in on incoming results, things progress systematically, satisfyingly, in a foreign familiarity that evokes memories of this time hunting as the Winter Soldier.

Two more days and he’s got enough evidence in the intelligence to confirm you’re somewhere in Europe. Within two hours Bucky recalibrates calculations based the new findings, conducts new searches, gets confirmation of a face on a traffic camera in Gdańsk that looks like Steve, and when he’s able to piece a clear trail that follows him through the city and then to an aircraft that he’s further able to track until it disappears over northern Italy. He knows this for what it is – a trail tempting him closer to the trap. A challenge, an invitation, but only if he can put together more pieces to find you. How many times did he set beautifully complex traps for some of his prize targets when he was the Winter Soldier? Breadcrumbs to entice, to drive his opponent to work harder, to put their prowess to work, to make them feel confident so he could trick, trap, and kill them in the end.

This monster of a man tricked him in Wakanda. It will be the only time. Expert and intricate traps of this sort are something his opponent has been playing with for a few weeks. Bucky has more practice and expertise, infinitely more motivation, and no distractions.

He travels under cover of transports between Wakandan outreach centers from Oakland to Washington DC, and then from Washington to Bilbao. When he touches down in Bilbao, his information relay device has a new lead based off a visual of Steve in a bookshop in Turin twice in the previous week.

He takes the train to Turin. Within twelve hours he finds the location of the Hydra facility, and Bucky makes enough noise to reveal to Hydra that he’s in the city and trigger the personnel to raise the facility to its red alert security status. He plants a false trail indicating that he’s given up and gone further north, all the while watching every aspect of the base, making plans to infiltrate, and ensuring sure none of the vehicles or teams moving in and out look like they’re transporting you somewhere else. They drop to an orange threat level, and then yellow – standard caution and operating procedures.

Bucky would have been floored that they believed he’d missed them in Turin and moved on to search somewhere else, but it spoke to one of the weaknesses of Hydra’s organization: the arrogance. Instead, Bucky hacks into their base network as well as their external communications channels.

This observation, research, recon, and analysis Bucky does not rush. Everything he cares about is at stake. If he’s going to be successful in getting you back there can be no room for error as he’ll be up against Hydra and the only other super soldier on the planet who could potentially match or outmatch him.

And as the weeks wear on, the other thing he cannot deny, that he’d known from the beginning of this nightmare even if he’d wanted to try to ignore it, it that he isn't in this to rescue only you.

When all is said and done, the reality is he has to get Steve back, too.

Bucky knows the longer it takes, the more dangerously close he gets to your next heat. He knows an omega being in a distressed environment will affect the heat cycle. It could bring it on early, or potentially also push you to the extremes of a dry heat depending on the conditions they are keeping you in, and how you’re feeling. Once he determines he knows enough to start putting together a plan of extraction, he also determines it’s too close to when your heat might hit, and he can’t risk trying to extract you if you’re in heat – it becomes an element he can’t predict and ensure that his plan will still be successful.

His own senses are strained with the tenor of your unease in a way that’s different from before. It’s driving his alpha side mad, and he wants to storm the facility and reclaim you, and that’s one more element contributing to the volatility of the situation. He knows he can’t gamble on so many unpredictable elements.

He must wait.

But when he sees Captain Hydra leave in his jet right when Bucky is certain you are close to your heat, Bucky is stunned.

It might be too damn close to your heat, but clearly you’re not in heat yet or the other alpha would not leave you. This was not his plan, but it is a prime opportunity he can’t ignore – not if he can get to you alone and save you from a heat away from him. His heart can’t deny this unexpected opportunity.

After Bucky had hacked into the Hydra base’s network, he’d discovered that the small jet Captain Hydra had exclusive use of had been excluded from all navigational tracking and that the man only communicated by radio with one individual whenever he left. He’d further discovered that Captain Hydra was a weapon still cloaked from most of Hydra, with nothing about him other than his existence as a new asset available on the network. Even his former identity was not yet disclosed or recorded anywhere digitally.

This means Bucky has no idea where the man is going or when he will be back, but he hears Captain Hydra and his liaison discuss and confirm his time of arrival and his estimated time of return. Bucky must work quickly, but there is a window.

As he had not anticipated infiltrating so soon, he still has to finish putting things together for the actual extraction – like transportation, supplies, and thoroughly planning out three escape routes and destinations – and while he works quickly, he does not rush those final preparations, and so that takes him a significant amount of the window of time he knows he has.

But he only needs long enough to get you out.

He will have that.

He ambushes the delivery truck bringing in the week’s food shipment with no trouble and drives it right into the base as he has all the proper credentials on his person and its still pre-dawn hours, so lack of light works in his favor to get through the first gate.

But of course when he doesn’t follow delivery procedures once he rolls up to the shipping and receiving dock, that’s when his limited time really begins. The first decision he must make is whether or not to take out a man of average height but portly build that approaches the truck – one of the cooks, Bucky has studied the personnel files for everyone registered on this base – and Bucky evaluates as he steps out of the truck. He could kill him, but this man should probably be spared. Bucky doesn’t want unnecessary blood on his hands. So with lightning fast moves and a choke hold, the man goes down. But next are two security personnel, and them Bucky shoots point blank, taking each of them out with single shots. He leans down to lift the comms off one of them, putting the piece in his ear so he can hear everything as it unfolds across the base.

He yanks open the first door and moves down the hallway. And then there’s a frantic message over the comms, “Code Red! Winter Soldier, loading docks, two personnel down, in pursuit!”

Bucky growls and turns back down the hallway and swears when he sees the man putting comms in his ear and squaring up a gun he’d clearly lifted off one of the security guards was the cook he thought he’d put out cold. Apparently the man had more in him than Bucky had accounted for, and so now Bucky takes aim and shoots him once he’s close enough to secure the kill shot, only having to dodge two close but errant bullets himself as the cook had tried to run him down.

Lethal force for everyone it is, he thinks.

He’s irritated he wasted extra time on this man trying to keep down the body count.

He does not make that mistake again, killing everyone who comes across his path. The silver lining working in his favor is that this base in Turin is a science facility, not a military facility, so he has fewer muscle personnel to deal with than other places you could have been kept, and he can hear over the main comms that scientists and researchers are being given orders to shelter in place while there are instructions given over the security comms in Bucky’s ear that prime-level scientists are to be evacuated. It’s the directive he expected, which benefits him as the security personnel are split between pursuing him and evacuating those individuals deemed indispensable.

But dealing with those who are in pursuit of him is simple. When he’s out of ammunition, he makes quick work dealing what should be lethal wounds with his knives. Every man or woman down is one less he will need to contend with while trying to safely get you out, and while he’s reasonably sure he’s dealing death to everyone, there are a few he thinks may survive.

He has studied every aspect of this facility while making his preparations, and he sends a message to Captain Hydra that he was prepared by shooting glances cleanly into every camera he knows he passes.

There’s a flash of fear that ripples through him – it comes from the bond he’s tried to keep dormant between you since you were taken, but this is too powerful, and it’s a barb he can’t ignore. It flares and then dies out, which could be either a good thing or a bad thing. He squares his shoulders and moves more quickly.

As Bucky reaches the quadrant they’ve been keeping you a few moments later, the words, “The Omega is secured, sedated, and ascending to the roof with team Foxtrot, thirty seconds until air evac.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He knows he can’t make it in time, but Bucky still races down the hall to the stairwell, launching through the door and then hurtling up the stairs, taking them three and four at a time. His super speed isn’t enough to scale four flights of industrial facility stairs, and he bursts out on the roof to see the coaxial helicopter already twenty meters up in the air and navigating away to the north.

He wants to shout until his lungs bleed because he was so close, but he knows he can’t afford to indulge in emotions that strong in this moment. Instead, he takes huge gulps of the fresh air, pulls the door from its hinges, and hurls it across the roof before going back down the stairs.

He does not engage with anyone but comes across few through his retreat. Instead, his focus now is decimating what he can of the facility without wasting time or going out of his way as he escapes the base, rigging explosives quickly in key areas on his way out.

While he left destruction in his wake, and he leaves alone, he was precise in how much damage he dealt. He left the area of main logistical operations intact because he didn’t want to destroy their network and communications, eliminating his ties to tracking their next moves.

Bucky immerses himself in tracking and monitoring everything the second he’s back in his hideout with his tech. He sees the Captain return. He watches the final evacuations. They send him to Geneva, and Bucky is ready to follow, knowing exactly where the Swiss facility is located since he’s fully infiltrated the Hydra network of information. He can’t travel as quickly since he doesn’t have access to any Hydra aviation, but he makes it there by sundown.

He wouldn’t risk trying to disrupt your heat now, not with everyone moved and on high alert, it would be dangerous for you. Instead, he works on setting up his new undercover observation point in Switzerland. He fine tunes his information tap into the Hydra system. As he works, he notices the rise of an anxious feeling pulling at his hind brain. He’s felt the press of you trying to reach across the bond while you’ve been apart, but this is different – there’s a frantic, wild tug, and while it’s insistent, it’s more erratic, like the flickering of a flame, as if you aren’t even concentrating on the connection to him.

He knows so much of you that he knows you have to be on the brink of your heat but that you must desperately be trying to fight it. The discomfort he can sense continues to ebb and flow. It morphs. It becomes tinged with more discomfort. Then there’s a lick of desire that is almost imperceptible. That’s followed rather quickly be a flare of adrenaline – or is it fear? Another shift a few minutes later, and tone of this is pure arousal, the feeling he’s shared so much of with you, and the thought that you…

He grits his teeth, shuts his eyes, and abruptly stills every muscle in his body. You are his omega. Another alpha bonded you. Your heat is undeniable. His brain knows that – it’s one of the things he’s been focusing on, acknowledging the various scenarios that could play out for this heat, he just did not want this, nor was he prepared for what it might feel like. And so, with forced, measured breaths, he does everything he can to concentrate on shutting down the connection, to put his alpha side to sleep, because he can not bear this. He has suppressed so much of everything since losing you, only holding onto the faintest tether, but he cannot endure this – not and keep his rationality and do what he needs to do now, which is to formulate the next steps, the things he needs to figure out and watch for now that this cruel game has changed. Emotion will distract him, but there’s also the flow that could go the other way and throw you off, and he swore to keep you safe.

Diving into the network databases of this new Hydra facility, Bucky notices something he noticed in Turin: there are no records that contain any of your names on file – not you, not Steve, not Sam. He thought it was strange before, but he had a theory it could have been the nature of secrecy around all the projects at the research facility in Turin – there were very few data files on the science being explored on that base. But in transferring the Turin personnel out, with a contingent of them going to Geneva, he pours over all the documentation and the only he finds is the transfer of a high-level asset referred to only as Waffe SR4718. He easily knows the German word for weapon, and without missing a beat Bucky knows the letters and numbers are supposed to seem random but clearly refer to Steve Rogers whose birthdate is the fourth day of the seventh month in the eighteenth year of the previous century. It’s innocuous to anyone coming across it, but abundantly clear that it’s specific for those who were supposed to know.

With all Bucky knows of his own time with Hydra, how there were always layers within layers, secrets buried, hidden, withheld, he’s certain the acquisition of Steve and metamorphosis into Captain Hydra is as dark and as quiet as his own existence as the Winter Soldier.

There are quarters assigned to Waffe SR4718, and Bucky tags it track all status alerts – comings and goings, services, requests. He also puts the cameras for that hallway up on a constant feed monitoring protocol with the AI he’s adapted to bring up the imagery if there’s any movement in or out of the door.

Knowing you’re in heat, Bucky concentrates on new extraction tactics and mapping out escape options from this new facility.

But at three in the morning during the second night in Geneva – the second night of your heat – the door movement alert goes off, and Bucky immediately turns his attention to watch as Steve slowly emerges.

Why would he have any reason to leave you during your heat? He knows he could order food, clothing, bedding, medical personnel if absolutely necessary…

A quick check of the log shows that there have been no such requests.

And then he sees the unthinkable.

You’re right there behind him, following as he starts to make his way down the hall, dressed in darker clothing as he is. He has a small tactical pack slung across his back.

“What the hell are you doing?”

The question is only uttered out of frustration and disbelief because he could immediately decipher what is happening.

As precarious as it is to interfere with your heat, the two of you are clearly on the move.

The other alpha has no intention of staying at this base.

But why?

His mind begins deciphering even as he’s pulling up security cameras as the pair of you move through the facility, tracking your movements and actions.

The calculated risk is to get out when you’re supposed to be in heat. Bucky did see that status reported on the log – omega in heat. The protocols were to leave alpha and omega Hydra personnel undisturbed unless a priority one situation developed – typically reserved for life or death and rarely anything less urgent or pressing. It meant no one would think to check after the asset immediately. Even if an alpha skipped regular ordering for a meal or two to the living quarters, that wouldn’t be taken as out of the ordinary, merely unnecessary or forgotten due to being otherwise occupied, or deciding to make do with the food already with them.

The movement logically progresses toward the transportation hangar under the building – intending to employ ground transport.

On the way, the two of you duck into a room and close the door. Bucky accesses the schematics to discover it’s a data analytics workspace – cooperative computer sharing area. There weren’t any goons to hide from, so Bucky works quickly, trying to pull up the specific workstations in there. He sees the log in for a science officer. The user accesses the personnel transfer files for everyone from the Turin base submitted due to the evacuation. Four names are brought up on the roster and their locations are changed from Turin to the other the other bases anyone from Turin was reassigned to – a pair of them to Odessa, the other pair to Trondheim.

Subterfuge. He’s displacing security agents – or at least their location statuses.

Bucky frowns.

The rest of your course takes you directly to the vehicle hangar. Moving in the dead of night has capitalized on as few people as possible moving around the base for you to encounter, and it paid off. The other alpha selects a smaller SUV, loads some readily available weapons and supplies from the nearby vicinity into the back and then – faster than lightning – he withdraws something from a pocket near his chest, presses it over your mouth, and Bucky can see you seize up and then slump into his arms. He tucks you in amongst the supplies before throwing a canvas over everything and closing the hatchback.

Clearly you had been cooperating with this escape, so why was it necessary to knock you out?

Then he leaves the vehicle, leaves the hangar, goes back up two floors to the security personnel floor, and knocks on one of the doors.

Bucky accesses the database to see who’s assigned to that room as he watches this man converse briefly with whoever answers the door.

The two names assigned to the room match the two names reassigned to the Trondheim base on the evacuation transfer records.

“What larger game are you playing, Captain Hydra?” Bucky murmurs.

Because it’s back down to the hangar and the SUV with you stashed in the back, but then he waits.

And within five minutes, two men in full tactical gear get in the vehicle as well, and only then does he start up the car and leave. There’s a tracking device on this vehicle, so Bucky starts to pack up his tech, and pulls up the tracking on his smartphone.

He’s about to shut and pack away his laptop when he thinks of doing one more thing. It will take time, and this is why he knows Captain Hydra didn’t do it, but it will be worth it. But after his time in Wakandan labs and building up his own robust systems, within twenty-five minutes, Bucky has gone through the security camera system and successfully removed all footage of you and the captain moving throughout the base, rewriting it with the empty hallways from just before and after, effectively erasing the evidence of your escape. This will buy more time. No one may have thought to look for any movement in and out of Waffe SR4718’s quarters, but now they won’t find it when they ultimately go back and try, extending Bucky’s time to tail you without Hydra in the mix. They will assume the alpha and omega are still in heat seclusion now without any reason to doubt it.

Bucky leaves his temporary Geneva hideout with the essentials he arrived with. He chose this location because it was two streets down from one of the larger private car services in Switzerland. Bucky knows he can pass as a mechanic with his clothing, and the service staff works overnight to keep up maintenance for the large fleet of vehicles that provide VIP transportation, airport pick up and drop off, limousine transfers, corporate chauffeur services, ski transfers, and event chauffeuring. Acquiring a non-descript vehicle is as easy as he hoped, and it’s more than simple to de-activate this car’s GPS tracking system.

Within half an hour, he’s comfortably in pursuit. The vehicle he’s tracking has maintained its course and is an hour out of the city now, but an hour ahead is reasonable.

When the Hydra vehicle is three hours outside of Geneva, it makes its first stop. Bucky presses a button on his phone to pin the location. The stop is for less than five minutes, and then it continues, but Bucky will stop there as well to assess the purpose and glean any information he can.

Bucky is an assertive driver, making up speed, but not at a point to draw attention. When he reaches the pin he’d set on the route for the stop your vehicle had made, it’s on a bridge.

There’s only one reason Bucky can think of to stop on a bridge.

A reason that could make Bucky’s heart stop with devastation, but he must continue to operate under the assumption it wasn’t your body dumped into the river. Anything else wouldn’t make sense.

Unless the other alpha has become completely unhinged and all of this is an elaborate game to drive Bucky beyond all limitations of his own reason.

Within the next two hours, he sees you pass the border into Germany, and then another stop is registered on the GPS tracking near the city of Albstadt. Bucky has made up a significant amount of the head start the other alpha had had. When he arrives in Albstadt, he finds the SUV. It is most likely that this vehicle had been abandoned for another, but Bucky has to stop at this point and tap into security feeds for the city to see whether you’re here or not. He picks a spot that advertises wifi with their sandwiches, refueling his body while setting up his tech in a spot most won’t question him to hunker down for some serious work on a laptop. He gets into the city’s street cameras, sees Steve steal another vehicle, pulls the license plate, and then he programs his algorithm to watch for the number to track the route now. He won’t be able to smoothly follow the route of a GPS-tracked vehicle anymore, but Bucky knew this would grow more difficult. As long as his goal was to draw out the Soldat, Captain Hydra will still leave a trail of breadcrumbs, but it will be scant if he’s trying to evade Hydra.

While Bucky has questions of intent, he has no question that it’s what the Captain is doing now.

Bucky is able to pick up the trail with license plate tracking and route mapping into Stuttgart. All the way to the train station. But this is where the other alpha shows incredible skills for blending in. It’s a busy station. Bucky will have to run thorough security camera assessments of the Stuttgart station, figure out when – or if – they got on a train, and then continue tracking from there. If the alpha and omega got on a train, Bucky can at least narrow his search to that route and its stops for that schedule, but Bucky used train stations to cover his tracks as well, and sometimes that involved never boarding the train but leading anyone tracking him to believe that he had.

With that much information, he writes new coding into his overall system, sends it back to the larger machine he left in Oakland to do the heavy computing so it can start the work he’ll need to fine tune once he can settle in a more permanent stopover, pays for his meal, and then drives to Stuttgart. The hacking into facial recognition has been so enhanced beyond boundaries though – especially because he can tailor it to look for only two faces he knows as well as his own – that he sees the two of your board a train headed west, targets the route, sets up the watch parameters for the schedule, and catches you getting off in Paris.

Another smart move blending into the vibrancy of a large city, but Bucky is sure it’s not the final destination either. But Steve knew enough French to blend into the country, as well.

It takes Bucky and his systems six more days, but he confirms three separate facial recognitions for the other alpha in a town outside of Bordeaux small enough to be off the beaten path but big enough to blend in and go unnoticed by its people.

Bucky travels there as quietly as possible. He does not want to tip his hand. He’s too close now to have you slip through his hands again.

After two more days and with the assistance of satellite imaging, he has found the small house in a forested area outside of the town.

Bucky grips the edge of the small desk he’s been working at, grounding himself. Adrenaline had immediately surged through his veins, but he must keep everything contained. He has practiced so much control and restraint that if his heart betrays him now, he’ll carve it out himself and leave it behind. He cannot compromise this delicate situation.

He drives out to the area and leaves his vehicle well-hidden a kilometer out from the house and approaches on foot, circling at a large perimeter and slowly moving further in, cautiously, taking in everything. He doesn’t want to trip anything the other alpha may have set up to alert him to intruders.

What he discovers is minimal, and all old tactical elements – things they’d done as

Cap and the Howling Commandos back in the old war.

Effectively things that would have worked on anyone from this day and age but that only Bucky would know to look for.

He doesn’t trust it.

This is another trap.

But he has to walk into it and fare as best he can.

That’s what Captain Hydra had said was his plan from the beginning – draw out the Soldat.

The White Wolf would enter the trap but would need to control it and come out on the other side with his omega. 

He can’t even think those words without his pulse racing now, and he digs his vibranium fingers into the trunk of the tree under his hand, splintering the wood while he closes his eyes and stamps down everything that wants him to sprint to the house he can see, break down the door, and launch himself into your arms.

He timed his approach when he’d seen the other alpha leave – likely for more food and supplies – but he knew the time alone would be limited.

Bucky takes measured but determined steps to the green wooden front door of what’s essentially a little cottage.

Straining his ears and focusing on his enhanced hearing, he doesn’t pick up anything beyond ambient noises – and your soft, slow breathing.

He takes a deep breath, slowly twists the doorknob, and opens the door.

There you are, curled up in a cozy armchair, dozing, hand pressed up against the spine of a book that has fallen to your chest after you clearly fell asleep reading, and this.

This simple scene nearly knocks him to his knees.

The way you’re there, feet away from him, it’s the most beautiful sight of his entire life.

But still, he is quiet, cautious.

His entire chest aches for you.

He shuts the door softly behind him, then crosses the small living room and kneels next to you. He eases the book out of your hands and puts it on the small side table. He’s done this before so many times. You make a slight hum through your sleep.

Brushing his fingers over your cheek is almost enough to make the nightmare of the last six weeks vanish as if it really had only been a nightmare.

He almost doesn’t dare to breathe.

But the warmth of his hand against your skin evidently reaches in to stir something in your subconscious, because you shift slightly, sigh, and tilt your head into his touch and murmur, “Bucky…”

The stutter of his chest is both painful and euphoric at once, and everything wells up in his chest, everything he’s been holding back.

He drops his hand from your cheek to your shoulder, gently trying to nudge you awake.

Coming back into consciousness, you take in a deep breath before blinking your eyes open. Your gaze drifts to him, and then your body seizes up one moment, and the next you’re scrambling up and away from him, whipping over the back of the armchair you’d been curled up in.

“Bucky?” your voice comes out in a wounded whimper of a tone that pierces him, confounds him.

“Yes, it’s me,” he answers, brow furrowing. He hadn’t allowed himself to think over what this moment was going to be like – he knew the fixation would have been too painful to hope over – but it was not supposed to be this, with you looking at him with caution, with hesitancy, with your guard up.

“Omega?” he questions tentatively, rising from where he’d been crouched on the floor.

You don’t move your position, but you draw yourself up to your full height as well.

Bucky maneuvers around the furniture, wanting to remove the barrier between you, but he changes his position slowly, allowing you time to retreat if you feel compelled to. You hold your ground but do keep yourself squared off facing him as he moves. He does what he hasn’t done since this ordeal began and definitively opens up the gateway of the bond between you, tentatively reaching out, trying to read you.

Your mood is hard, and it doesn’t fluctuate. There’s a steady mix of fear, doubt, and what he thinks is exasperation there.

No, it’s more than that.

“You’re angry with me?”

“I’m more than angry with you!” you hurl the words at him and cross your arms over your chest. “I’m livid.”

“I came to you as fast as I could!” He steps closer, and now you step back. He moves closer again, but with a smaller step.

“It’s not that, I know you worked as hard as you could–“

“Then what else could you possibly be upset about, Omega?” His tone is desperate, earnestly seeking the answer, but also tinged with a warning he can’t help from bleeding into the question.

“I couldn’t feel you.” The anger gives way to let the anguish of your words bleed through, and they sweep over both of you. “You cut yourself off from me. I was desolate and scared and alone, and you withdrew any hint of our connection.”

He steps forward once more, finally close enough to reach for you, and as he continues to close the distance, you unfold one of your arms and backhand slap him. “I needed you!”

Bucky staggers a step back from the raw force you hurled at him, but it only takes him the space of a breath for him to recover enough, and he surges forward and pulls you into his arms, uttering your name the way one pleads in a fraught prayer. You try and push against his chest and squirm out of his arms, but he only secures you more firmly, holding you dearly and desperately to him.

“I needed you,” you sob out. Instead of continuing to try to struggle away from him, to hold your hurt at bay, he feels you stop fighting and the turn as you let everything out. He holds you, soothing you, but not trying to quell any of this yet. He knows everything you’re feeling is warranted, can feel now that you held back as much as he did while you were apart. Endured as much hurt as he did – more in many ways. He won’t tell you to settle down, because the hurt needs to be acknowledged and not minimized.

Once your chest is no longer wracked with sobs, when your crying has abated from steady streams of tears to the small sniffling, he gently wipes the tears from your cheeks. Then Bucky decisively nuzzles his face down into the crook of your neck. Slowly, tentatively, he presses his lips to the place he claimed and bonded you as his omega, his mate. You whimper, but your hands clutch at his shirt, and the immediate flood of relief, of love, of devotion, washes over you both. He can feel it, he knows you feel it.

His large hands are planted firmly on your back, one at the curve of your spine, and one between your shoulder blades, pressing you as close together as he possibly can. He plants a longer, more concentrated kiss to the mark, and your right hand slides up to thread your fingers into his hair and press him closer.

The more he kisses into your neck, the more whole he feels. He had ignored the hollow, empty feeling in his chest, had truly rejected all feeling, as cold and empty as he’d operated while being the Winter Soldier. He’s feeling human again. Himself again – or at least it’s all coming back to him now.

He doesn’t even realize when your body has fully melted into him, too caught up in the mending of the connection, but then you’re urging his face up away from your neck, but only so you can press your forehead to his, and you say, “I need you, Bucky.”

He nods, and then you kiss him. In a movement familiar to you both, his hand moves down, curving over your ass and to the back of your thigh, and he picks you up. Your legs wrap around him as you deepen the kiss, nipping at his lips. He carries you across the big open space to where there’s a bed in the far corner.

He sets you down gently on your feet, and his hands are already reaching for the hem of your shirt, and you readily lift your arms so he can pull it cleanly off your body. You’re reaching for his belt, and he’s pulling his own shirt over his head. Your lips eagerly seek each other as much as they can. You push his dark jeans down, and he huffs and sits down at the foot of the bed so he can hastily unlace and yank his boots off, so he can shuck his pants off all the way. When he raises his head, you stand before him in nothing but your simple underwear, one hand pressed against your torso, biting your lip.

You’re so damn beautiful to him, his heart aches again at the sight of you nearly naked before him again after so long torn apart.

He reaches for you, and though you don’t hesitate to take his hand, as he tugs you into his lap, your thighs straddling either side of his hips, he doesn’t miss the slight tremble of your body, and it kills him but there’s a deep part of him that resonates, recognizes the feeling. The separation had been hell on an alpha and omega level, and this is still too much, overwhelming, and altogether not nearly enough to soothe the deep loneliness he had pushed beneath the surface. His arms wrap around you again. While your left arm wraps around his neck, your right hand roams over his bare skin – shoulder, arms, chest, neck, face – questing to rememorize him.

He wants to be inside you, but having your chest pressed into to his chest, it’s like your heartbeats are syncing back together, and he almost needs this more. The side of your face rests against his, and the way he can hear you breathe in and out right next to his ear, can feel the warmth of every exhale, it’s yet another inimitable balm he didn’t know he longed for.

He murmurs your name softly against your shoulder.

“Mmm?”

He knows you can tell he’s working out something to say. Every season you two had been together had been time you had worked to only continually knit your souls more tightly to each other, not only to love each other more, but to understand each other, to work together, to support and lean into each other as true partners.

It had made the separation all the more painful.

He squeezes you more tightly for a moment, then inhales to speak. “I need to tell you why I put up the walls I did.”

He feels you tense slightly in his arms – of course he does, there’s no way for him to miss it any more than there was any chance for you to try and hide it when this intimately entwined. He bestows a soft, light kiss to your bonding mark, and you whimper, but turn your head to brush your lips over his cheek, and then both of you draw back just enough to look at each other.

“I’ll never know if it was the right or wrong thing to do to you, but it felt like the only way I could hope to survive navigating back to you. Immediately I knew I couldn’t allow the anguish of pain and anger I was feeling to flood to you when I knew you were living your own nightmare. When I held that back, the way Hydra had conditioned me to repress all feelings when I was their fist resurfaced, and I knew shelving the emotions would leave me to focus and be more effective in everything I was doing to track you and find you.”

“Bucky,” you start, but he shakes his head slightly, his eyes pleading for you to let him continue. You give a little huff. “Okay.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, and he pecks your lips before going on. “When I was closing in on where they were keeping you, I didn’t want to alert you and have you have to worry about how to hide that.”

“That’s a fair strategic tactic,” you grudgingly admit.

He grins at your tone, but it abates quickly. “I also…”

He pauses for half a beat and takes a breath to steel his resolve because you deserve his raw honesty as it’s still a concern in play.

“Also what?”

“I didn’t know how much of our bond he would feel. I didn’t want to tip him off, but I – I didn’t want to feel what might go the other way and bleed from him through you either.”

“Oh, Buck,” you bury your head into the crook of his neck now, nuzzling against the bonding mark you’d given him. “Our bond is ours, not his.”

“It’s not?”

“No, no,” you press quick successive kisses against your bonding mark on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “You might feel the wake of what I feel from his bond to me, but the ties to each of you are very distinct within me. I’m especially sure of it now that ours isn’t dormant anymore.”

He holds you close while he sorts through this revelation from you. “I didn’t know – and I was worried if I felt him it would either devastate or enrage me and either way make me overrule logic and slip up, do something rash.”

“Now I understand,” you speak right into his ear. “Concentrate though, what do you feel right now?”

He breathes in. Breathes out. Another breath in. Out.

“Only you,” he says, no question.

Your lips drift back down his neck, and you press an insistent kiss to your claim on him this time, then you open your lips and suck over the spot.

Bucky shivers and groans, and you wince and laugh when his arms flex around you so tightly it actually hurts. Because he reacts so strongly, it doesn’t shock him in the slightest that you’re spurred on to seek more, but now he’s ready, so when you’ve satisfied with your initial torment and he feels you slot your teeth over the mark, he bares his neck, ready when you bite down to renew your claim on him, and he shouts – euphoric, flooded and overwhelmed with the way everything opens in such a raw way when a bonding mark is refreshed.

It drives you to rock your hips against him. You’re both still in those last pieces of underwear, but the friction of your cunt against his cock is glorious, and he can’t help the satisfied rumble in his chest in answer to the simple action.

His hand clamps on your plump, round ass, and he pushes you hard against him and holds you there – he doesn’t want the rocking, for a moment he just wants the intense pressure, the reality that you’re here with him.

You crash your lips to his desperately. He slants his head and works his tongue along the seam of your mouth, which willingly parts for him, an open moan passing between you both, your tongue inviting him into your mouth, stroking against his. Both of you fiercely hold onto each other, keeping that close chest to chest contact while you kiss more than you breathe. When you ultimately have to break off from each other to get air back in your lungs, the heaving expansion of your ribcages against each other is such a simple but intense intimacy, breaths mingling – another moment that adds to the replenishment for how much his soul had been depleted without you.

“Need you inside me,” you plead.

He nods while turning and tossing you onto the bed.

As he climbs up to join you, you quip, “No more clothes, Alpha.”

“Bossy Omega,” he chuckles, but complies in pushing his boxer briefs down and tossing them away.

You quirk your lips. “Give me what I need, and I won’t need to be so demanding.”

He growls, but it’s teasing, the feeling in his heart is a light one, a feeling he feels echoed in you, lines of it running through the overwhelming need.

Bucky moves up the bed, hooks his fingers beneath the band of your underwear, and you lift your hips so he can remove them immediately. He leans down and presses a broad flat lick of his tongue over your hip bone, causing you to squirm – desire and a sensitive spot of skin he discovered on your years ago. “I know what you need, Omega.”

“Yes, Alpha,” you nod eagerly, and he flips you over onto your stomach

He hears your breath hitch. He knows you love roughness and to be handled as often as you love softness, but the latter isn’t what you need right now. He crawls up over you and plants his left arm up by your shoulder while he slots himself between your legs. Your left hand finds his, twining your fingers together while he lines up his cock with your slick entrance, and the sigh of ecstasy that escapes you as he pushes his length in sings in his ears. The feeling of your warm channel gripping him is better than he remembered – or at least it feels that way – and he tries to push in as slowly as he can to savor coming home to where he belongs inside you, but it’s not nearly as slow as he wants it to be.

Once he’s fully sheathed in you, he kisses your shoulder, then nips along until he’s at the juncture of your neck, and you keen and bare your neck to him. He licks over his bonding mark, then bites down, reclaiming you, and you cry out, body thrumming beneath him. He starts to move behind you, pulling his hips back before thrusting back in. Your right leg hitches back to tangle up and over his, urging him on. He grips your hip, and then he fucks you. It’s the most primal it’s ever felt with you, the force of it rocking the bed to knock against the wall, and he almost worries about whether or not it’s too much, but you rock back against him, meeting his thrusts as much as you can in your prone position, eagerly taking all of him.

“That’s it, darling, take my hard cock inside you,” he urges you both on.

You sob out a breathless, “Yes,” that makes his chest rumble in satisfaction.

He can feel your cunt fluttering around him, can feel you on the edge of ecstasy, but it also feels like you’re refusing to fall over the edge.

“Come on, darling, let go.”

“No.”

That shocks him but doesn’t slow him down.

He maintains his pace and slips his hand down between you and the mattress, cupping your pussy and finding your clit. “Yes.” He starts to rub quick, concentrated circles over your tight bundle of nerves.

You shake your head desperately. “No, I don’t want it to end,” the words tumble out, and he hears the sound of you crying again.

“Omega, I will give you more. I’ll give you as much as you need, but I need you to give in to this, surrender and fall over the edge with me again.”

“Bucky!” you cry out as you’re unreservedly flung over the edge. Your cunt clamping down on him was the last of what he needed to reach his own climax, and so his shout echoes your own, and he exerts those final thrusts to pump his seed deep within you.

He stays sheathed within you but rolls both of you to your sides, brackets his arm around your waist, and keeps you close, nuzzling into your neck. You sink back against him, resting your arm over his and threading your fingers together.

“That was…”

He nudges your chin for you to turn your head back so he can kiss away the tears that escaped during the emotions that came through there at that end.

“Intense?”

“Yes.”

“We both needed it, Omega. I need you as much as you need me. Do not doubt it.” You shiver in his arms, and he swears, “I’ll make sure you never question it again.”

“Never let me go.”

“Never again.”

You shift and turn over to face him. He’s just as content to wrap you in his arms this way. You tangle your legs with his as you have so many times before. This is so familiar.

You brush your fingers over his face, retracing the lines and angles that define him, and he watches your face as your eyes drink in his features.

“I’m yours, Omega,” he says in a quiet, low tone.

A soft smile lifts the curve of your mouth. Your hand cradles his jaw and beckons him in to kiss you, and he is happy to acquiesce. The kisses he shares with you now are slow, solemn promises of lips and tongues, heated but not demanding.

When you eventually come up for air, you tuck yourself more closely into his chest, humming with contentment. He’s half hard again, and the frantic last moments of the sex he shared with you flashes back to the forefront of his mind. “I promised to give you more. What do you need from me? Tell me how I can please you, how I can love you.”

You reach up and press your fingers delicately against his bonding mark. “Just this. Hold me. I only need to be with you.”

He can feel how true it is as your fingers stroke lightly over the place where you claimed him all those years ago, reclaimed him here in this bed, flooding him with more peace. His brushes his lips over your forehead. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

There’s a little chirp that bubbles up out of you when he calls you sweetheart again, and it makes him just as happy as it does you. He slowly caresses your back, hand moving up and down, up and down, in a soothing motion, soothing himself as much as you.

There is still so much ahead for you both, but this – your connection to each other – he can feel that again so strongly. He never doubted it, but after being deprived, the return of how powerful it is engulfs him. This will anchor him through what’s coming.

“Buck?” you murmur against his neck.

“Mmm?”

“I can tell your brain is beginning to work away from here.”

He sighs. “Can you blame me?”

“No, but talk to me, take me with you if you’re going to think.”

“There’s so much to think through.”

“Start with one thing.”

You’ve done this with him before – late nights, afternoons, mornings, on a drive, on a walk, sharing a meal – you could always feel when he started to get tied up in his brain with his thoughts, and you’d listen, ask questions, sift through with him. He was perfectly capable of sorting through things on his own, but sharing with you made it altogether different. It was one of the best parts of having you as his mate.

“Why…?” He frowns and trails off. “No, nevermind.”

“No, Buck. I worked hard to soothe and relax my alpha. I want this gift of respite with you, however brief it is, and whatever string you don’t want to tug on first clearly is one that’s important.”

He nips your shoulder. “My gutsy omega.”

“Alpha,” you press, also literally pressing a finger insistently against his chest.

“Alright…” His tone turns serious. “Why didn’t you try to escape – especially here where he leaves you alone sometimes?” From the way he’d found you, it was clear this wasn’t an anomaly.

You cluck your tongue impatiently and roll your eyes. “First, how was I reasonably supposed to outrun him, hide from him, and try to find you? I don’t have any of the tactical skills or training you two do.”

“Fair enough. And second?” The first point is obvious now that he’s asked it and heard you answer, but he wants to hear the rest of what you have to say.

“Second,” you continue, your tone altering to something more somber, “he took me to lure you to him, so the most logical thing was to stay and wait for you.”

“Ah,” Bucky nods, the smallest of smiles taking over his mouth. “My smart omega.”

“And third,” you continue, though your words tone is cautious now, and you drop your eyes to his chest.

“Yes?” he urges you to finish the thought.

“He’s my alpha, too.”

This isn’t news – he’s known it from the second he witnessed that bite to claim you, he thought of it frequently while he was hunting for you both, he knew it would be the new reality, you’d even discussed the two bonds together in this bed – and yet having to think about it yet again in this light is still straining on him.

Clearly you feel his unrest, because your hands come up to cup his face and basically attempt to soothe him with gentle but insistent strokes along his jaw. “Bucky, I’m always going to be yours.”

He sighs and angles his head down to touch his forehead to yours. “I know.”

And it’s not jealousy that drives his unrest – it’s the not knowing what this means, not right now and not for the future. He’s started thinking about possibilities, but he’s limited until he can confront the other alpha. So, he decides to concentrate on what it has meant so far.

He makes sure his tone is soft but serious when he asks, “Did he hurt you?”

You’re quiet for a beat, then say, “I don’t know how to answer that.”

Bucky starts to sit up, but you pull him back down to the mattress, trying earnestly to soothe him. “What he did hurt us both, and it was meant to hurt. It was absolutely calculated. But they broke him, Bucky. They tortured him and tried to make him comply for weeks. They were experimenting on Sam, trying to pull the science they could from old records on you and what they could pull from analyzing Steve’s blood, but they weren’t having success, and so they enacted their last use for Sam – and they killed him in front of Steve. It destroyed him.”

Bucky’s own chest aches as he listens, throbbing painfully at this reveal, and his vibranium hand fists the sheet.

“And when he was at his most devastated and spent emotionally, what I have been able to piece together is that that’s when he couldn’t stand to feel anymore, shut off his emotions – or his humanity more like, and it’s his humanity that made him Steve. That’s when they were able to take over and mold him into the fist they wanted in Captain Hydra.”

Hurt, anger, the horror of his own past life as the Winter Soldier, it’s surging through his veins, but you continue.

“So that night in Wakanda? That was Captain Hydra at his height of cruelty. I haven’t seen that iteration of him since that night. It’s been slow, but he’s different now. He’s not our Steve, but he’s not Captain Hydra.”

It’s a few moments before he registers that you’re done – at least with that piece of sharing.

He cups your jaw and looks into your eyes. “Do you trust him?”

He sees you clearly put thought into your words before answering, worrying your bottom lip. “The heat he and I shared was intense in every way. It changed things fundamentally between us, but since the heat our connection has still been very tenuous. We’ve both been very guarded with each other. I know he’ll keep me safe, but I’m still wary of him.”

He nods.

“Where is he right now?”

A wry laugh tumbles out of your chest. “I don’t even know where we are right now, Bucky. I know we got off a train in Bordeaux, but then he moved us here while I was in one of my heavy end of heat sleeps. From the food, books, and supplies he’s brought for us, I know we’re in France, but that’s it. There’s not a lick of technology kept in here while I’m alone. We don’t even a radio.”

Bucky grunts at this news. He doesn’t like this, but other than being kept here cut off from the rest of the world and having claimed you and separated you in the first place, it seems you’ve been appropriately cared for.

“Wait, no radio?” He growls. Bucky had looked away to consider the new information, but his eyes snap to you again. “Have you had any music?”

“No,” you groan, and he can feel the pained irritation.

“That won’t do.” 

He quickly rolls off the bed to a small whine of protest from you, but it was so rare that he’d ever been in a space with you and there hadn’t been music playing – loud for you to sing, or low in the background keeping you company – and this is something he can fix easily.

He fishes the small communications device he had put together out of the pocket of his discarded pants, then comes back to sit on the foot of the bed and begins typing away. You’re quick to crawl up behind him, and you wrap your arms around his chest and settle your chin on his shoulder while he works. You don’t see the smile that breaks across his face as he feels your excited impatience radiate off you, having figured out what he’s doing. It’s so palpable he wouldn’t have needed your emotional bond as alpha and omega to sense it.

Once he’s modified his device to play music, it doesn’t take him much longer to hack into your music account. He pulls up the list of your most-played songs, picks one that he thinks will be perfect for this moment, and hits play.

You croon with joy and then fall back on the bed, arms spread out in pure rapture. He beams and then crawls up next to you, handing you the device. You hold it close to your chest with one hand and pull him in for a kiss with the other.

You break off the kiss so you can sing along to the chorus, and he laughs. He knows exactly the last time he felt this happy: the last day by the river with you in Wakanda. When the chorus is over, you actually kick your feet in delight, grinning at him. You kiss his nose, scoot your body as close to him as possible, then settle back into the mattress and pull his arm to rest over your stomach.

The two of you talk, sing, and continue to hold each other for a while. A string of two or three softer songs play, and you and up drifting into sleep, late afternoon sun pouring over both of you, its warmth too much for you to ignore after the physically and emotionally exhausting afternoon. He watches the rise and fall of your chest, his hand over your heart, no thought for time. He doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to take his eyes off you. How did he survive without you for all those weeks?

A flare of light across the room pulls his focus though. It’s a repetitive flashing coming through the window to the wall.

Morse code. His blissful mood evaporates.

C-O-M-E  O-U-T-S-I-D-E

The other alpha is out there, summoning him.

He identifies which window the light is being directed into, then pads over, and releases the drape to cover the window, pulls it back, covers it again, and then secures it back in its open state. The other alpha will know he’s received the message.

Bucky has referred to him as the other alpha for so long now, but he’s ultimately about to discover who this man is. You say he’s no longer The Captain Hydra that he was, but not yet his Steve either.

He doesn’t hurry getting dressed. The other alpha isn’t going anywhere. He’s waited this long. He can continue to wait.

Bucky takes a long look at you from across the room before he leaves.

He’s relatively sure he will come back to you. There’s only one outcome that will keep him away, and now that he knows the potential danger, he won’t let this man ambush him ever again.

Bucky stalks as carefully to the tree line where the signal had come from as he had when he’d first approached the little house. He can smell the other alpha on the breeze that rustles through the trees. He tracks him in a kilometer or so – not in the direction Bucky had left his vehicle, but that works fine for him because if he needs to cut and run, he’ll be able to get to you in the house and then continue on to get to the getaway without having to double back and without the other alpha being able to cut off the route.

Bucky will think through every possible scenario as each moment of this unfolds.

His brain got him here.

His brain can get him out.

He will keep you safe.

The scent he’s known nearly his whole life grows stronger, and when he reaches a small pocket of the forest devoid of trees – not quite large enough to be called a clearing – instead of slipping silently out of the shadows, the other alpha steps out unabashedly to meet him.

“What took you so long, Buck?” he has the gall to ask, his voice barely covering notes of anger.

Bucky roars and hurls himself at the man standing before him, taking him to the ground easily, and they scramble against each other. They’re so closely matched in skill, prowess, and power, and the energy they’re both exuding is raw, primal, and angry. Bucky is incredulous that the other man is angry with him.

His own rage lands him a punch. He takes a blow to the ribs, and the other alpha gets a hand on the collar of his shirt, resulting in a tear, but it allows Bucky to grab his wrist, twist him around harshly, and pin the arm behind his back as he decisively thumps him into the ground, pinning him there.

The man beneath him only makes two attempts to struggle and shift out from under his hold, but then he sighs and sags into the tall grass they’ve been tussling in.

Is he feinting?

Bucky honestly doesn’t know.

“Who am I talking to?” he asks – the same line of inquiry Steve used on him in an abandoned warehouse outside of Berlin.

He knows it, letting out a guffaw beneath him. “I’m not him anymore.”

“Not who?”

“I’m no longer their Captain Hydra,” he pauses before adding, “but I’m not the kid from Brooklyn either.”

Bucky knows they’re not going to stay like this forever, and he needs to see this man’s face and look into his eyes if he’s going to be able to sort out any of this, so as swiftly as he can, he releases the alpha, pushes himself up, and takes a wary stance a few meters away.

Steve remains on the ground, but rolls over and sits up, planting his feet on the ground, and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. It’s almost a casual.

Bucky will have the advantage of already being up on his feet if the man before him tries anything.

Bucky needs to know how to read whoever this is, so he decides to go with a different line of questioning – things that are more cut and dry.

“When you left the base in Geneva, there were two Hydra security with you. You stopped over a bridge two hours into your journey, and they weren’t with you when you switched vehicles in Albstadt. Who were they, and why the elaborate ruse only to drop them in a river so quickly?”

Rather than being surprised, it seemed he was satisfied that Bucky knew this much about what had played out. “Alright, we can start there. Leaving under the initial guise of a mission on security footage was supposed to be helpful when they started looking for me.”

“And why move the records of their transfer files to other facilities with two others?”

“I’m glad you picked up on that, too. Buying more time for some missing personnel before it was suspect and they figured out they really didn’t know where they were.”

“And why them?”

“Arbitrary.”

“Bullshit. You’ve gone on solo missions as Captain Hydra and you didn’t buy enough extra time by leaving with a two-man team to make it worth the set up only to drop them in the river without a reason.”

Steve’s brows knit together, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment before answering. “One was arbitrary. He just happened to be the roommate of my target. The one I was after? He was part of the extraction team who took our omega out of Turin. Specifically, he’s the one who handled her so roughly she had bruises from his casual brute strength. I watched the footage to figure out who hurt her.”

Bucky cocked his head and studied the man before him.

“I had only been an alpha to her for a month and I was willing to kill someone who harmed her. What are you going to do to me, Buck?”

Bucky turned and paced way, running his hands through his hair. He didn’t want to show this much unrest in front of the other alpha, but he was thinking and feeling so much, trying to read and decipher too many pieces.

He lets out a long exhale and just speaks the truth. He can’t try and take any other angle. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Before all of this, if there had ever been a situation in which Bucky would have needed to trust someone else to keep you safe, Steve would have been his immediate answer.

Steve waits silently.

There are so many questions he wants answers to, and so he starts asking them. The answers don’t shock him, and he can see that even when Steve doesn’t tell him the full truth, it’s a cautious guarding of information, but he detects no lies in any of it. That Steve has some guards up also seems tenuous, possibly temporary, like if he can only ask the right question, the tide will turn.

But it couldn’t be that simple with Steve, could it?

And when did he start to think of him as Steve again?

Bucky deals out one of the questions he’s had the longest, since the very beginning of this. “What you said that night in Wakanda – you did all of this to draw me out. Why?”

Steve lets it hang in the air for a moment, but Bucky can see this is a crux for this conversation with him, too.

“I can’t explain everything that went into that plan – I don’t know if the machine of Captain Hydra was fully in control or if part of the old me was trying to grasp at you as a lifeline, but as the weeks wore on, the strategist in me knew he needed either the Soldat to join him or his best friend to save him.”

Those words sink into Bucky, and he can understand that explanation as no one else in this world can.

“What took you so long?” Steve asks again, but this time it’s tinged only with angst, not anger.

The accusation in it unsettles Bucky.

He’s still not sure how to address the question, but he starts with, “The Soldat is gone. The Winter Soldier? Not who I needed to be to get here either.”

Steve pushes up from the ground but maintains the distance Bucky put between them. “Who are you now then?”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Depends on who’s standing in front of me.”

Steve looks off into the trees for a moment – in the direction of the cottage.

Bucky’s instincts have failed him less than a handful of times.

They’re telling him now that’s where to start, even though he’s not sure exactly where it will end. “I’ve seen a lot of versions of you – my childhood best friend, the punk who couldn’t stay out of trouble, the stars and stripes symbol, Captain America, the target who wouldn’t let me assassinate him and then refused to finish me off in the hellicarrier, the Cap who went against the Accords, Nomad in exile – but always Steve. You’ll never be who you were before – I never was. Doesn’t mean you’re irredeemable.”

Steve scoffs. “It’s not that easy.”

Bucky gives a wry laugh and shakes his head. “I more than know that. But you’re shades of all those men right now in front of me. She sees it, too.”

“God, she…” Steve shakes his head, puts one hand on his hip, and scrubs over his face with the other.

“If you can be you, if you can be Steve, she will have you.” He’s not sure where the words came from, but he himself believes them as he says them.

“I don’t know if I can be.”

“Do you want to be?”

Steve doesn’t answer immediately. Bucky can see him sincerely work over the question in his mind. It’s a simple inquiry, but one that will define everything, and Bucky knows he will be completely behind whatever answer he gives because that is the core of who this man is and always has been – fully committed to his convictions.

When Steve says, “Yes,” Bucky can hear the heaviness in his voice. Bucky nods.

“What about you?” Steve asks.

Bucky shifts his weight from one foot to the other as he digs back into himself and where his head, his heart, and his gut now sit with all of this. But the answer is clear enough. “Till the end of the line,” he answers.

“Even after I–“

“Stop,” Bucky cuts him off. “I’ve had little more to think about over the last six weeks than us – all of us. And it felt like my heart started beating again when I found her, but you… Before this I never fully understood why you fought so hard to get through to me when I was trying to kill you in DC all those years ago, why you searched for me for years, why you were a goddamn pain in the ass who wouldn’t abandon me in Berlin and believed in me without question, but now I get it. We are in each other’s bones.”

He doesn’t move, but Bucky sees the look change in Steve’s eyes, and he can practically feel the air alter between them. They’ve always had an acute awareness of each other, and Bucky can feel the tentative return of it, like déjà vu even though he’s still figuring out who this Steve is or who he will be.

“When did you start giving Captain America speeches?” Steve finally asks.

Bucky shrugs. “One of us had to do it.”

“What now then?”

Bucky has sketched out many scenarios for how things play out from here, but every stage of this, every new revelation shifts the direction they’re heading. Even in the last two minutes things have significantly shifted again.

Bucky licks his lips and stares at Steve for another beat before he decides to head down a path he hopes is the right one. “You’re always a man with a plan, so you tell me. Tell me where this started, when it changed, where you think it ends. I figured out a lot, I have theories, and I still have questions.”

“We went to Italy to investigate a lead that came up on our radar. We thought it was an innocuous enough whisper about a couple of Hydra scientists. And don’t,“ Steve pauses to pointedly look at him because Bucky was already opening his mouth to argue. “I already know you’re going to say we should have involved you, I thought of it every day they were holding us captive. I thought it the second I heard their boots. It was a week after you left for Wakanda, and Sam–“

He pauses again, and his shoulders fall just a fraction.

“Sam and I weren’t gonna bother you.”

“She told me about Sam,” Bucky says.

Steve closes his eyes for a moment, pressing his lips together. “I told her enough about what happened, but I didn’t tell her everything.” He opens his eyes and meets Bucky’s again. His face is truly haunted, and Bucky nods, his own chest tight. He knows more than enough about that. He had still had to face the demons of his past, but when he was ready, and he had fought to find his way to do that. Steve would find a way, but it would take time, and not likely be the same journey.

“After they killed Sam, they got a raw version of me, shut down, and they went to work conditioning me, shaping me into Captain Hydra. I was too lost to fight anything. I couldn’t save him. I failed us. I didn’t want to be me. It was easy too easy for them to get the version of me they wanted when I was like that.”

There’s a full shift in how Steve lays everything out – and as he shares, Bucky knows it’s still not everything, but he can feel that it’s everything Steve can bear to tell him.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Steve tilts his head and looks off into the forest. “It was and it wasn’t. It will always haunt me.”

“It will, but less and less.”

Bucky walks to the edge of the small clearing and sits on a fallen log. Steve follows him.

“When I was trying to find you after DC and taking down S.H.I.E.L.D. I read everything they had on record about you, how they conditioned you. They used some but not all the same methods on me.”

“I couldn’t find anything on you, and I found more than enough other hidden monstrosities in their networks these past weeks.”

“I think they got smarter after we were hunting them after exposing them – they couldn’t keep everything off the databases, but they have projects now that they keep paper-only, small teams. There was the team that captured us, but after they put us in a holding cell, we were transferred. From that point through the torture, the breaking point, and the conditioning I only saw four faces – three scientists and one officer who became my liaison. When they sent or let me out into the field, I never went with a team of more than four of their men, always the same four. Two of them I ended at that bridge.”

Bucky nods.

Already his mind is calculating – this means they could potentially contain and eliminate all of the people who knew any specifics about Captain Hydra.

“One of the scientists was killed when you stormed the facility in Turin.”

Bucky raises his brows. Even better.

Steve goes on to tell him about how he was sent on a few missions to test his loyalty before he was given the task to bring back the Soldat.

“I didn’t have a chair, and they were very adamant that my point person was my liaison and not a handler, they gave me a fair amount of autonomy. They didn’t want me to drag you in. They wanted you to join me. I think they felt like an asset who had to be controlled could break free as they saw with you the first time around, and this time they wanted operatives who weren’t giving controlled compliance, but allegiance instead.”

Bucky grunted. “A tether rather than a leash.”

“Yeah.”

“But you knew who I was tethered to.”

Steve’s head drops. “Yeah.”

“And you knew I’d be the most vulnerable and off my guard in Wakanda.”

“I did.”

Bucky lets him sit with that discomfort.

Bucky has replayed that night in his mind so many times.

“But your plan changed that night. I didn’t register it in the moment, but everything about you changed the moment you bit into her neck to claim her.”

Steve doesn’t deny it.

“Before you sunk your teeth into her, you were taunting me, dangling her like something to be smashed and discarded, you didn’t even know if it would work, and I think part of you thought it might even kill her.”

Bucky sees Steve’s jaw tick.

“You were in no way prepared for how a bond would change you fundamentally as an alpha.”

“Obviously it didn’t flip a switch immediately, but yes, it altered what I intended to do,” Steve admits.

He goes on to explain some of the things that happened in Turin – missions he went on, how things had developed with you, the clothes, and the books.

“The books were for her?” Bucky breathes. “I saw security footage of you in the bookshop.”

“I wasn’t worried about exposing myself because you were already taking longer than I wanted you to take, but when you didn’t access any of the Avenger networks, bases, or safehouses, I expected you were underground and untraceably hunting for us.”

“What else did you expect?”

“I wanted you to get foolish in your desperation and tip your hand.”

“Not with her on the line.”

“No.” Steve narrows his eyes. “You never left Turin once you showed up on our radar, did you?”

Bucky scoffs. “Course I didn’t.”

Steve nods. “A ploy to see all the defenses of the base.”

“But you left dangerously close to her heat,” Bucky shoots, the disapproving accusation blatant in his tone.

“And that’s when you made your unsuccessful move to get her back. If you’d killed everyone you’d encountered from the beginning, you probably would have made it to her in time.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“No, I know you do.” Steve sighs. “You know, back in 1945, I thought you were dead when you fell off that train.”

Bucky doesn’t interrupt. He knew Steve knew he knew this. They’d touched on it before. But clearly there was more and a reason for Steve to bring it up again now.

“The thing is, when they found you, I know Zola did what he did to you because of me, your tie to me. When they took me and Sam, they tortured him and killed him because of me, again. You were both people I cared about, and you were hurt for it. I was not going to let it happen to her. The sense of responsibility I felt for her had already been growing and evolving, but when I felt that surge of adrenaline and fear through the bond when you attacked the base and they moved her? It had been a slow melting of ice, what was developing there, but that shattered the ice. When I found out they had moved her, I kept my personal weakness guarded, and I knew I would do everything I could to get her out of their web and keep her safe.”

At this admission, Bucky is quiet. So is Steve. Bucky knows Steve is letting him think. There’s so much to consider there – the guilt Steve has still carried for him for years, the fresh hell of Sam, and the fervent determination to keep you from being another victim by association.

He could think over this for much longer, but there are more pieces he still needs context for, so next Bucky asks, “Why did you leave the Geneva facility during her heat?”

“Best cover for time – alphas are given room to take care of their needs during rut or care for omegas if they’re bonded during their omega’s heat.”

It verifies what Bucky had theorized himself.

“But it’s been eight days since you came here.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods.

“And you’ve just…been here.”

“Yeah.”

This is the piece Bucky has been suspicious of now.

“Explain.”

“When I took her to Turin, yes, it was a trap to lure you. When I brought her here, it was to wait for you to find us. I couldn’t find you when you went underground before, and I couldn’t find you this time, and if I tried too hard, I didn’t want to risk Hydra finding us, but I knew if we stayd in one place and I focused on keeping us hidden from Hydra, you could find us.”

Bucky furrows his brow, frowning.

“Simple as that?”

“Simple as that,” Steve confirms.

Bucky studies him for another quiet few seconds, then says, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, what now?”

“Her,” Bucky replies simply. “We’ve still got a lot of shit to figure out, but we’ve got to do it with her.”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Still with me? This was a lot. I hope I've answered some of your questions, and there are some more that have been brought up, but... we're here. We're this far.

This is the single longest story/chapter I've ever published. You can see where I've left off, and there's clearly more story, but Bucky reuniting with his omega and with Steve were the primary objectives, and both of those elements I didn't want to cheat or shorten as they began to unfold. I hope they've truly done justice to these characters and relationships, and we'll see how they can possibly move forward together in the conclusion. These three still have big things ahead.

read more from the Dark Forest Fest

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers #bucky barnes fan fiction #captain hydra #aspen wrote something #bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x reader #omegaverse #marvel omegaverse #warm shadows au #aspen's dark forest fest

[georgiapeach30513]

Mark My Territory

Summary: You evaded him. Again. This constant game was being played of him getting closer to you before you were ripped from his grasp. Again. He won’t miss this time you sly little fox. Your scent is etched in his brain more than anything else in the world. He won’t let his handlers stop him. He will have you. And he will make sure you stay put. You are his…

Pairings: Captain Hydra/Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: dark!explicit

Warnings:  dark, explicit language, explicit sexual content, non con/dub con, kidnapping, throwing, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.9K

Steve Rogers Masterlist

Captain’s dark blue eyes refocus as he removes his death glare of his next victim.  His fingers still cling to his neck, but they soften enough for a gurgling sound to emit from his disgusting throat.  Lifting his head fully up, the Captain gazes at his surroundings.  He felt it.  There was a shift.

“You fucking psycho,” the man in his grip screams, but the Captain squeezes as tight as he possibly can, cutting off all air to his lungs, before letting his lifeless body fall down to the pavement.  

Now he could focus.  Pulling his mask down, he takes a long sniff of air before his mouth turns up into an evil smirk, “Son of a bitch,” someone in the control center screams.  “He’s got that crazed look on his face.  He senses her.”

Popping his neck, he lifts his mask back up, and stalks down the road, while a team is sent in to retrieve him.  He was useless when he could feel you.  “Get someone in there now!” Nobody wanted to get in between you and the Captain.  There were always a few casualties.  A few soldiers were always lost.  Only one could ever get his focus away from you.

“He can’t find her.  We’re going to have to change her location again,” he takes a slow pause, seeing the Captain’s body cam.  “Too late,” he groans.

You stand up slowly out from under the table.  Trembling a bit, even if you had a feeling that he would never physically hurt you.  His height was vast and he was just as broad.  Terrifying and ways, and you weren’t sure what he wanted from you.  He always just stood there in front of you.  “Won’t you show me what you look like?” He shakes his head no, but extends his hand towards you.

“I don’t know what you want,” he wiggles his fingers, grunting a bit.  “Are you wanting me to hold your hand?” One nod, and another grunt.  Gulping, you step closer, tickling your fingers against his, and a shift happens to his eyes.

“Do I know you?” His free hand starts to pull down his mask as men surround you.  Jerking you away from him, and he releases an animalistic scream, throwing men aside.  And when someone grabs you from behind, dragging you his yells become growls.  

Lifting up grown men to toss onto the road.  His eyes hardly ever leave you.  You feel pity for him.  He was wanting to protect you.  He didn’t want their hands on you.  “NO!” He screams as a hand covers your mouth.  “MINE!” 

That was a turn of events.  He felt ownership over you.  Why?  Why did he feel connected to you?  He always found you.  Marching over to one man, the Captain’s fingers circle his neck as he turns back to you and your captor.  The man raises his gun pointing it at your head, and the tiniest little whimper squeaks out of your throat.

“NO!” He screams, cracking that man’s neck like it was a toothpick.  “NO hurt!” Tears drift down your cheeks, wetting the man’s knuckles.  There was something about his eyes.  “No,” he wasn’t yelling anymore he was pleading.  “Mine.”

“Soldier, we can’t take a civilian.  You have to go back,” he shakes his head no, a choked mine whispers at the man.  “She stays.”

Stays?  An option to take you wasn’t on the table.  You weren’t going anywhere.  “You might as well let him keep his little pet.  How many more missions are we going to have where he senses her?” Someone speaks into the ear of your captor.  “What’s the worst that could happen?  Might work out for our benefit if he knows he gets to go home to that piece of ass.”

“Soldier, at ease,” the soldier shakes his head no, repeating that you were his.  “At ease.  Get in the truck.  She’s coming with us.”

“No!” You wail, but the soldier walks over to you.  Lifting you up to throw you on his shoulder.  “No!  Let me go.  I am not yours!” 

“Mine!” 

Hitting him felt like he was made of bricks.  Solid and thick.  He makes no sound of distress, just keeps walking.  You could practically feel his smirk as he struts to the truck.  “Let me go!  Put me down!”

“No,” gone is the anger.  It was lighthearted.  This was sick.  This is not the way you wanted to die.  Become a play toy for this psycho that was going to do unthinkable forms of torture to you.  

——

The Captain grunts as he walks through the doors of the compound.  He had one thing on his mind, and it had nothing to do with taking his gear off, and being checked over.  A doctor comes over to his side, but he pushes him away.  

“You need to be cleaned, Captain.”

“Mmm,” he growls, continuing to his new mission.  It's what he deserved.

“Oh, let him have his fun,” an older man steps into the light, smiling at him.  “Having that stupid girl here is making things run so smoothly.  Let him pound into her tight twat.  Maybe eventually he’ll literally split her in half and we won’t have to worry about it again.  No more distractions.  Go ahead, Captain.  Fuck your girl.”

He grunts again.  He didn’t fuck you.  He owned you.  He loved you, and he could think of nothing more than sinking into your warmth.  Could already feel your velvety walls cling tight to his aching cock.  Getting out of his suit was going to be a bitch.  But you were worth it.  

He opens the door to your shared cell, and you hurl a shoe at him.  He catches it.  He always does.  Popping his neck, he curls his finger towards you, pointing at his suit, “Go to hell.”

Rolling his eyes, the Captain starts to take his suit off, with much more difficulty than if you would just do it for him.  “Just go ahead and kill me, you fucking asshole.”

“No.”

“Say something more than no or mine.”

“No.”

“Fucking brain dead asshole,” he charges towards you, slamming your body up against the wall.  Using his thick thigh to spread your own apart, he slips his hands between them, rubbing over your panty clad mound.  

“Creep.”

“Mmm,” your body betrayed you every fucking time.  If only you could see his face.  You never got to see it.  Hydra had him muzzled up like the feral dog he was.  

“Ahh,” he squeaks, pushing aside your panties.  Pushing in two fingers.  Your body hates you.  Told on you every time with its loud squelching.  “Mine.”

“It’s my pussy, you weirdo,” he pumps into you harder, hearing you whimper, and grunts at your pleasure.  “It’s mine.”

“Mine!” Slipping in a third finger in makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, and he presses his palm against your bundle of nerves.  Driving into you with such force, you couldn’t argue.  He was playing unfairly.  Your pussy didn’t have a brain.  And right now, your own brain couldn’t think.

His arm pinning you to the wall, drifts up higher.  Adding pressure to your neck as your body starts to tingle.  Pushing you further and further into euphoria before he pulls out of you, and tosses you onto the bed.

“My god!  You fucking asshole!  Quit doing that shit.  If you’re going to make me wet, let me come.”

“Mine,” he growls, pulling off his suit into shreds.  That glorious cock bounces up once free, and you have a giant urge to bite it, and also lick off every morsel of precum.  He didn’t require your mouth.  He just wanted to edge you until you passed out.  You swore he finally let your body come once your eyes closed.

“Bet you don’t even know how to make me come,” the Captain chuckles under his mask.  Stomping over to the bed.  Reaching his hand towards you, his thick fingers grab onto your ankle.  Dragging your body down, he flips you over to your knees.  Trying to get away, he smacks you hard on the ass.  “Prove it then.”

He gives your weeping cunt a few slaps before driving into your warmth.  Giving you no time to adjust.  It was an assault on your mind more than anything.  You hated him.  Hated being used as a cocksleeve, but damn if he didn’t stretch you out in the most beautiful fucking way.

Your walls hug tight to him, begging for his touch, and sucking him back into your depths every time he pulls out.  Your pussy needed him, and you hated her for it.  Hated that you knew he was close to returning because she was already pooling slick into your panties.  

As if your crooked panties were keeping you too far away from him, he rips your off own clothes, and never misses a thrust.  Grabbing onto your hips, the Captain uses you to fuck him.  You hoped you had pushed him enough to let you come because you were right there.  You are tired of his games, and just needed relief.  

Whimpering out nonsensical words when he pulls out, and flips you on your back, “Told ya, you fucking pussy.  Don’t even know how to make a woman come.  You piece of shit.”

He rips your legs apart, pinning them on the bed beside your ears and stabs into you.  His whole weight on you made you feel even more magical.  You hated him, and your body.  Hated that he was doing this to you.  You were going to die in this cell with someone who didn’t even talk.  

“You.  Don’t.  Know.  How.  To.  Make.  A.  Woman.  Come,” each word was drug out with every push into your wet heat.  You feel your juices leak down your ass and onto the bed behind you.  It was cruel.  You just hope taunting him was enough.  “Claim my pussy then.”

“Mine!” He growls, pushing into you hard.  “Mine!  Mine!” You start to see stars.  This was it.  He was finally going to let you come.  It felt like years of no real satisfaction.  Spewing your arousal everywhere, speaking in tongues as you clench your eyes closed, but he keeps going harder.

“Mine!  All mine!” That was a new word.  He was getting somewhere.  “All.  Mine.  MINE!” You couldn’t see, but you could hear the squeak in his voice as he comes undone.  Thick ropes of his cum paint your walls, and you finally feel like you're floating.  

His thrusts slow down, and ever so gently, you reach up to pull off his mask.  Life flashes before your eyes as you stutter.  Trying to find your words.  It couldn’t be.  He had changed, and still had this weird love for you, “Steve?” 

He blinks hard, staring blankly at your face before the softest, “Princess,” whispers off his lips.

“St-St-Steve?  Steve?  Is that really you?” 

“Okay, that’s enough, soldier,” a man walks into your cell, literally pulling Steve out of you, and you sit up crying and shaking your head.  “Erase him.”

“Erase?  No!  No!” 

“Discard the girl.” 

“No!  Mine,” a needle to his neck, makes his eyes close before he’s dragged out of the room.

“I hope you finally enjoyed your orgasm.  He won’t be seeing you again,” the doctor backs out of the cell, leaving you screaming and crying.  You still felt him on every inch of his body, still had his seed dripping out of you.  What was going on.

“You bastards!  You fucking bastards!  Steve!  Steve Rogers, I love you!”

A shadow steps out of the darkness, and raises his finger to his mouth, “Shh,” and then….

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @harrysthiccthighss 

#mark my territory #captain hydra #captain hydra x reader #captain hydra x fem!reader #captain hydra x y/n #captain hydra x you #captain hydra fic #captain hydra fics #captain hydra fanfiction #captain hydra fanfic #captain hydra smut #dark #noncon/dubcon #steve rogers #chris evans #chris evans character

[urdepressedslut]

Tears of an Angel ❝part two❞

♡ Pairing: The Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Unbeknownst to you, lots of time has passed and Bucky still hasn’t come back. You begin to wonder if he was ever real in the first place. There’s someone new. The Soldat— who is he?

♡ Warnings: HEAVY ANGST, some fluff, hydra, bucky’s trauma, torture, needles, abuse, hints to sexual assault

part one ✧ main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+

You wondered how many times you could count the amount of stones on the walls before a guard approached your cell again— dragging you into the horrific room. The room that only held vile memories— ones that had you shuddering.

Ever since you had been left alone again— ever since Bucky was gone— you had lost track of time completely. Everyday blurring into one another, there wasn’t a pause in time. Every morning leaked into the night without recognition. It was disorienting and made you feel out of touch.

You rarely talked— the only sound of your screams ever escaping your lips. You would go so many days without uttering a sound— the slightest talking ached your throat. Your voice hoarse at the end of the day, with only six words leaving your lips.

You could hear the manic laughter as the guards teased you about being mute. Cackling sinisterly at the idea that they had broken you. In a way they had.

You weren’t sure why you were still here, and what your purpose was. You were sure you had an idea one time in your life— but with how things are now. You remember nothing, know nothing— are nothing. Well, you remember nothing but him.

Even after all this time, you still pathetically clung to Bucky. Hoping in your sick and demented mind that he’d come back for you one day— that he’d remember you just as you had him. But as the days melted into the other, you weren’t sure if that would ever be the case. But what harm would it bring you to hold onto the tiny hope.

The door unlocking to your cell had you jumping in surprise, having been lost in your head it spooked you. But otherwise, you sat still— even if the pain didn’t even start, you wished for it to end already.

You heard the door open completely and the sound of two footsteps enter.

“Soldat— take her to Room C.” One of the guards instructed, and you wanted to furrow your brows at the name.

Soldat?

“да сэр (yes sir).” A thick russian accent answered, and you risked a glance up.

You were disappointed to meet a half covered face, forehead curtained by thick brunette locks. It was definitely a man considering how deep the voice was. His lower half was muzzled— like a dog. But the look was certainly intimidating.

The Soldat grabbed your arm harshly, yanking you up— not giving you a second to steady yourself. You whined, the bruise on your collarbone shifting from the movement.

Ignoring your sounds, he dragged you out of your cell and down the hall towards the room of nightmares. You weren’t sure how much more pain you could take— you wish the darkness would just consume you already.

The guard had disappeared by now, leaving you and the Soldat alone. You weren’t sure if you should celebrate or not. The guards were harsh— mean. The Soldat so far has been aggressive— but you guessed that was nothing new.

“Please— don’t!” You whimpered when you could see the door to the room ahead.

You felt eyes on you, and you glanced to the side— your glossy eyes meeting with his dull ones. His stare gave you goosebumps, the fury hidden behind his eyes. Towards you? You weren’t sure— if so, why?

He didn’t respond, snapping his focus back ahead of him. Pulling you more aggressively towards the doorway. You could smell the room from here— even many steps away. You felt sick to your stomach, knowing what was to come.

“I’ll do anything, please! Don’t take me in there!” You cried quietly, as you tried to pull away from him— your feet attempting to plant you in your spot.

The Soldat whipped his muzzled face to you, his eyes wide with anger and something else. He wastes no time in trying to come up with a response— instead scooping you into his arms.

You gasped at the sudden movement, and didn’t try to wiggle out of his hold— as he was much stronger than you. You crying and walking to the room was already draining you of all your energy. With your weeks spent sitting in your cell— the walk from your cell to your room was tiring.

You continued to cry quietly, and noticed how close you were to him. He smelled of sweat and gunpowder— but also a familiar musk. A particular gust of the scent wafted into your face. It had you stopping your cries, looking up at him. At the same time he glanced down.

You blamed it on your delirious state— but you swore you saw his eyes.

Bucky.

Your mind wandered to the memories of his face through the gap. The way he held onto your hand— the feeling of comfort in this hell. The way you believed he was going to save you. Fuck— he couldn’t even save himself. You hated him, but you missed him more.

All too soon, the flashes of memories faded away into the abyss that was your mind. Coming back to reality, you felt the Soldat lower you onto the steel table. You immediately panicked, thrashing your limbs about.

“No! Please please!” You begged, grabbing his wrist in a tight grip. “Don’t leave me here!”

You weren’t sure why you begged this man for help when he was the one who brought you here. Meanwhile, the Soldat was confused. Your begging was sparking something inside of him. Something foreign yet familiar— it made him uncomfortable.

You watched as the Soldat grabbed your wrist— to the hand that held onto him tightly. He squeezed painfully, prying your hand off him. With a cry you had released him— your wrist throbbing from his hold.

He escaped your hold, turning to the right to exit the room— and that’s when you saw it. The sickly familiar flash of silver— his metal arm.

It’s Bucky… it has to be. Bucky.

Your cries went silent, your body going into shock that Bucky was so close. He was standing in front of you, in the flesh. He had held you— touched you. You were right when you had seen his eyes— you knew it was his eyes. The familiar smell. The familiarity that was his whole aura. He was here… so why was he treating you like a prisoner?

“Bucky?” You tried, desperate for his comfort as you had back in your cell.

He didn’t budge, simply continuing to walk out of the room. Leaving you alone in the torturous space. Your heart broke at him ignoring you— if he had heard you.

You wanted to call out again, but was interrupted by the door slamming shut. It was Bucky— he was here. You just needed to know what happened to him. Why he was acting like he didn’t know you.

You were left in shock, unaware of the scrawny doctors entering the room. You were stuck in a state of confusion— but also knowing just what was going on.

You didn’t want to believe it, he wouldn’t. Hydra wouldn’t. Yeah right.

A prick into your arm had you jumping, whipping your wide eyes to the doctors.

“Sleep now— you’ll wake soon.” The nasal voice whispered to you.

You weren’t sure if the fact that you’d be unconscious during your torture would be worse— not knowing what body part they’d be prodding. A part of you knew this was a true gift— not being able to feel and experience the pain. You’d be violated, yes. But you’d escape the agony— and that’s all you cared about.

The room spun for a little bit, until everything faded into darkness. You could only hope that it was the permanent darkness you’d been praying for— but you were never that lucky.

~

The sounds of metal clinking together had you jolting in your sleep hazed mind, the fog heavy in your brain. Your limbs felt heavy, like someone had tied weights onto your arms and legs. Your body was sore, even the slightest movement uncomfortable.

The metal clinking had you jumping again, and it was the sound of shoes shuffling against the floor that made you realize that you weren’t alone. Forcing your eyelids to lift, you could only see a blurry silhouette of someone standing over you.

You groaned in pain, as your body shook violently in agony.

What had they done to you?

The thought of not knowing had your skin crawling, the same feeling of wanting to rip your flesh off— coming back full force.

The longer you kept your eyes open, the blurriness started to clear, and soon you were staring into the eyes of him. Bucky.

But was it really him? You had assumed it was a him because of the metal arm— as no one else had one in this facility. Or so you knew of. But you still had that sliver of unknowing with him wearing the mask

His gaze was intense, his eyes full of a certain fury— but it wasn't towards you. His eyebrows were almost stuck in a furrowed manner, like he was always disturbed. He didn't shy away from your stare, if anything he held your gaze in a pleading manner— almost like he wanted you to see something hidden behind the striking blue.

"Bu—" You attempted but broke out into a cough, caused by the dryness in your throat, " Bucky... it's you."

His blues darted down to your mouth, watching the words slip past your lips. His eyes burned with confusion, like the simple spoken words were so confusing.

To you, it wasn't confusing. To him— he couldn't quite understand this nagging feeling that threatened to split his brain apart.

Who was Bucky? He thought.

It was a mixture of fear of the unknown feeling, but with that came an odd wave of comfort. He didn't understand why a prisoner like you would bring him anything of comfort.

You watched the war enrage in his mind, and you could almost hear the internal battle happening. His eyes flashed with pain, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips frantically.

"Bucky, please stop acting like you don't remember me— I'm scared! Please!" You begged, forgetting your condition. You'd be nothing but dead weight with your limp body, as you were unable to sit up by yourself.

His eyes grew practically red with anger, and turned away towards the cell door. His metal arm whirred by his side, his flesh hand twitching in frustration. You felt the fear fill your body as he turned away, his body facing the door— you didn't want him to leave you.

"Don't leave... please." You whispered, your voice breaking at the end.

He slowly turned his body to face you, the desperation in your voice sparking something yet again within him. He hated it but clung to it at the same time. Without controlling himself, he had kneeled in front of you. Without uttering a word— he stared. Taking in every detail etched into your face. Your skin, the lines, the indents— everything that he was sure he'd forget by the next mission.

He found himself memorizing your features, and he wasn't sure why. He was shocked to find your features familiar— the nagging feeling coming full force. Knocking the air from his lungs as he struggled to breathe through the muzzle.

"Thank you." You whispered, your eyelids feeling heavy again and you were afraid to shut them— worried he'd be gone the next time you open them.

He didn't say anything back as he just stared at you with a longing gaze— his breathing heavy and fanning through the muzzle.

You wanted to ask him why he was here with you in your cell, seeing as there was no point. But instead, you found yourself lifting your frail hand— hovering your fingertips above the mask.

He instinctively flinched away, his head jolting back from your reach. You paused your hand in mid air— staring at him with glossy eyes. Watching him cower away from your touch, the way his eyes held fear. The blue in his eyes stormy— haunted.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you— don't think I could if I tried." You tried to joke through the tightness in your throat.

His eyes widened slightly at your words, and you quickly clarified.

"But I won't hurt you— I won't even try." You promised to him, holding his eyes with such genuineness it had shocked him.

He sucked in a quiet breath, easing his head back to your hand. You kept your hand still, waiting patiently as he leaned into your fingertips— deepening his push until your entire hand palmed his muzzled face.

As he waited for the pain to come from your touch— he found the pain had never come. He was leaned against you and he felt comforted. Your touch was soft, and even through the muzzle he could feel the warmth coming from your clammy hand.

"See... I'm not hurting you." You whispered weakly, your body curling inwards— throbbing with a wave of pain.

The brunette's eyes widened in panic, darting all over your body— frantically searching your being for the cause of your pain.

You recovered quickly, the pain passing as fast as it had arrived. Now it had left you weak and sluggish— the tensing of your muscles tiring your already frail body. You met his worried eyes again, the sight refreshing— to know he had a soul after all. His empty behavior was worrying you for the longest time— unsure if he was even your Bucky still.

"M'fine... just tired." You mumbled, unsure if he could even understand you— but you were too tired to care.

Your eyes shut only for a few seconds, and thats when you heard the sound of buckles unfastening. The sound had you cracking your eyes back open, a gasp of surprise escaping your lips at the sight of his fully exposed face. He had taken off the muzzle.

It was your Bucky.

Your dry and cracked lips broke into a smile, one that would never reach your eyes. Despite the hollow look he sported, and the way he didn't even look like himself in little glimpses— you were happy to see him. Enjoying the quiet moment— the peace that came with his company. It all came flooding back into this cell as it did in the last one. The gap in the wall that had you two connecting— clinging to each other.

A sharp inhale had you snapping from your daydream, your eyes focusing back on his face. His blues were shining with unshed tears— almost like he was unable to let them fall. He crawled closer to your crumpled form on the bench in the cell— his hands resting near your body, but just enough where his knuckles could brush against you.

His lip quivered in frustration, needing to say so much— but knowing he didn't have enough time.

"It's okay... I've got you." You mirrored from the very first time he had comforted you through the gap.

His breathing slowed and he looked like he had instantly relaxed— letting his guard just slightly. But with that, came the flood of tears that ached to be freed. The emotions he had muted, painfully burning from him. It was too much and not enough at the same time.

He sobbed, leaning his forehead down to your arm. Bowing before you in a way— hiding his face away by smushing into you.

You just sat still, keeping your arms by your side— unsure if your affection would be welcomed. His cries broke your heart— his whimpers making your stomach knot up. You were broken beyond repair, but if you could you'd take away all his pain.

Both of you were stuck— trapped in what felt like an enteral hell. There was no end to the tortuous tunnel and you both knew that.

At least with each other— you wouldn't suffer alone.

A/N: sorry if there is spelling errors, i did a quick proof read once but it was awhile ago🤍

If you want to be added

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#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #marvel cinematic universe #sebastian stan #reader insert #buckybarnes #fluff #marvel imagines #heavy angst #dark themes #the winter soldier fanfiction #the winter soldier x you #the winter solider imagine #angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fic #protective bucky barnes #hydra marvel #the winter soldier x prisoner reader #bucky barnes imagine #tears of an angel part two

[jen-with-a-pen]

F O X ＨＵＮＴ

summary: Not only has HYDRA executed their infiltration on S.H.I.E.L.D., but they have also reclaimed their finest weapon. Your safety isn't the only thing that's compromised.

pairings: WS!Beefy!Bucky Barnes x F!Avenger!Reader

word count: 6.1k

warnings: chasing, being hunted down, implied n0n-con elements, canon-level violence, cursing, implied t0rture, blood, beat1ngs, forced nud1ty, language, HYDRA-level cruelty, Bucky gets Brainwashed (again), there's Steve x Reader if you squint REALLY REALLY hard

read here on ao3!

a/n: This was inspired by last year's Whumptober Day 2: NOWHERE TO RUN - CORNERED, CAGED AND CONFRONTATION. I know it's February JUNE, but shit came up and my motivation tanked lmao thanks adhd med trials Literally have never done a dark(er?) fic before and this one has been cooking for god knows how fucking long now. I hope y'all like it <3 (also the hydra victory au is something i discovered from the lovely @lunarbuck reset series and stewed obsessively over for literal months now. still obsessed with it whoops)

dividers by @firefly-graphics | gif by @lost-shoe | @hydravictrix

my ao3 | my masterlist

Translations

Lisitsa | лисица - fox/little fox

Soldat | солдат - soldier

Syuda | сюда - over here

Khitraya suka | хитрая сука - sly bitch

Moy priz | мой приз - my prize

Glupaya pizda | глупая пизда - stupid cunt

Moye | мое - mine

The infiltration was subtle at the start.

A few missions gone mysteriously wrong, agents killed in action or disappearing entirely, hacks that were, thankfully, contained within an inch of a full-blown data breach. All of it seemed so coincidental when it happened, swept under the rug each and every single time before Director Fury could have a swear-filled say as to what the hell was going on. 

But hindsight is 20/20. It always is.

The day S.H.I.E.L.D. fell was, ironically, the perfect day: brilliant sunshine, clear blue skies, a breeze weaving between the towering buildings and skyscrapers. It was almost eerie, in a way, how perfect of a day it was. 

You found yourself in the gym, Steve and Sam hashing it out on whose turn it was in sparring. You had all but knocked Sam out cold in the previous round as Steve watched from behind the ropes, cheering you on with a cocky, proud grin as he watched all of his hard work in your training pay off.

Of course, the stubborn ass he was, Sam wanted another go. 

“C’mon, Steve! I wanna rematch!” Sam protested, gesturing wildly in your direction with one hand while his other held an ice pack to his bruised temple. Steve stifled a laugh, tossing a glance over his shoulder to you. You shook your head, smiling back as you gulped down the rest of your water bottle. Cool strands spilled out from the corners of your lips and down your chest. You welcomed the relief from the sweat gluing your t-shirt to your skin. 

“How ‘bout I take Steve instead of giving you another concussion?” you retorted, giggling as Sam shot a narrow look at you. He huffed, forfeiting his argument by waving a dismissive hand. 

“Fine, ’m gonna go find some pain meds,” he grumbled, turning to point a swollen finger at Steve. “I better see you in the infirmary next, Cap.” 

He stomped off through the metal doors and left the two of you in silence.

“Whaddya say, sweetheart? You up for round two?” Steve teased, stepping under the ropes and into the ring. He wrapped his hands as he moved to the center, muscle memory carrying him while keeping his eager gaze on you. His eyes carried excitement as they journeyed up and down your figure, rolling his lip between his teeth as he drank you with his stare. 

You did little to hide your pride at the Captain checking you out, chewing the corner of your cheek to tame your own smirk at the beautiful blond. You turned away, hiding the heat from your cheeks as you tossed your bottle at your bag. You weaved under the ropes, coming face to face with your willing opponent in the center. You lifted your chin to meet his, the hidden smirk on your lips growing into a grin.

“With you? Always, old man,” you purred. You tossed him a teasing wink as you positioned your fists in front of you, feet planted firmly in the starting stance. Steve lingered on you for a second longer, tongue swiping across his lips hungrily as he cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, raising his hands to mirror you.

The two of you began to circle one another, dancing in a familiar pattern you knew by heart. Steve took his first swipe at you and you ducked, managing a hit to his stomach. A grunt escaped from him– not of hurt but of thrill. He lunged for you as you dodged again, blocking his failed strike to your head. 

“Wow! You really can’t teach an old dog new tricks!” you taunted, dodging another blow, his wrapped fist only grazing your shoulder. You rolled it back, holding back a slight wince as you continued the violent waltz. 

You lunged at him, instead faltering and falling to the ground. Readying the curse on your tongue, it stopped short of your lips as you looked up at Steve. 

He stood frozen in place, panting, fists at his sides clenching tighter and tighter. As you opened your mouth to unload even more cursing questions, screeching erupted from the loudspeakers around the room. High-pitched tones screaming above, a robotic voice speaking clinically and quickly. You scrambled off the floor, unease creeping in as you latched onto Steve’s arm, his arm tensing under your touch.

CODE WHITE. CODE SILVER. ALL SECURITY AND TEAM UNITS URGENTLY NEEDED. 40th FLOOR. THREAT IS ACTIVE AND HIGHLY DANGEROUS. REPEAT. CODE WHITE. CODE SILVER. ALL SECURITY AND TEAM UNITS–

The message had cut out, static replacing it alongside the echoing alarms throughout the hallways outside the gym. You looked up at Steve. Anxiety surged upon finding his face devoid of all blood, his jaw slack, eyes boring into the metal doors leading to the hallway. He looked scared. 

You’d never seen Steve scared before. 

“Steve, what the fuck was that–”

“Get to the locker rooms and hide,” he ordered. He pulled his arm from you, jumping over the ropes and sprinting to his duffel bag on the floor. He pulled out his phone and dialed frantically as he ran to the doors. 

“Steve!” You stood trembling in the ring as your stomach churned. 

“Now!” he yelled. “I’ll come back for you!” 

He didn’t wait to hear your response as he slammed the gym doors shut, followed by a whir and click.

He locked you in. 

You didn’t– couldn’t– hesitate as a surge of urgency overtook you. You needed to hide. Now. Fast.

Your legs carried you as you jumped out of the ring and raced to grab your duffel bag, sprinting to the back of the gym through another set of double doors. You wove through the tiled maze of the locker room searching for some sort of hiding spot, settling on the showers. You snuck over to the stall at the very end, the closest one to the emergency exit, and ducked under the opaque plastic curtain. Your bag fell to the floor as you climbed onto the stall seat. Blood pumped in your ears, thumping as quickly as your shaky, shallow breathing. Millions of thoughts and questions and worries rushed through your mind at impossible speeds.

White and Silver. Which alert was that for?

You racked through fleeting memories, distant recollections of training and orientation from months ago, searching for anything remotely familiar. You remembered all of the other codes– red, orange, teal– but no white, no silver. 

A faint buzzing sounded from inside your duffel. You lunged, unzipping it and fishing out your phone. Natasha. Her name lit up the screen and you frantically hit the answer key before the call could even think about dropping.

“Where the fuck are you?” Her panicked voice hissed into your ear. Her edged tone was enough to make your stomach backflip faster. 

“Locker rooms, forty-fifth floor. What the fuck is going on, Nat?” Your voice shook as anger and confusion boiled in your blood.

A muffled swear. “Where’s Steve?”

“He ran out, locked me in, told me to hide.” More incoherent curses.

“Fuck, fuck, okay, look, trust me on this, you need to stay where you are, okay? I can get you out, I–” 

High-pitched ringing overtook the speaker, sending you reeling away from the receiver. Static echoed out of the speakers.

“You what? Natasha!”

“No– time– you–”

“Natasha! Hello?”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You tore the phone away from your ear and choked back the bile rising in your throat. Service was out. The blinking bars at the top of the screen mocked you and your sudden plunge into isolation. 

The lights went next. 

The dull fluorescents flickered. Someone cut the electricity, sending you into almost darkness as the backup generator lights kicked on. Scattered lights from above cast an eerie yellow glow over the shower tiles. You’d only seen this kind of outage happen once before, when New York was hit with Hurricane Noah a few years back.

The fear you felt in that storm paled in comparison to what you felt now.

You sighed, shaky and surrendering, and pulled your body closer to you on the shower bench. A chill snaked its way down your spine as your skin brushed the cool ceramic, an unwelcome addition to the cold already enveloping you. Your sweat-soaked t-shirt and shorts failed to aid you and your aching muscles. Fingernails dug into your kneecaps in a struggle to stop trembling as you tried to focus on your breathing. Inhaling, exhaling, in, out. Screwing your eyes shut, praying to any deity imaginable it was all just a drill, it was all an accident or a misunderstanding or–

The ground shook as a loud bang echoed from outside the locker room. A panicked yelp escaped your throat before your hands could scramble and cover your mouth. You froze as the tremors subsided and listened. It, or they, sounded close. 

Too close. 

Another BANG! Then another. 

Rhythmic, steady blows, each quicker and more powerful than the last. Hands clamped tighter over your lips until your blood froze at the sounds of crushing steel and crumbling concrete. The lump in your throat grew as horrific realization flooded over you. 

They, or it, broke in.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it– those doors were more fortified than Tony’s lab. Four-inch-thick, steel and plexiglass doors with a three-tier secured locking system. Nothing, nobody– not even the strongest Super Soldier– was powerful enough to make the faintest of dents in them.

Racing through who, or what, could have possibly broken into the gym, your train of thought derailed as echoes of men yelling indecipherable words and mixed commands shattered the remaining air of safety you clung to. Listening intently, a mix of combat boots and tactical gear filtered in with the echoed commands.

The S.T.R.I.K.E. Team.

Your legs begged for reprieve from crouching, but your body disobeyed and froze you in place. Part of you didn’t trust who was outside. Footsteps and gruff voices became heavier, closer. The relief that greeted you was replaced again by panic as you listened closer.

Clear, Russian commands resonated at the entrance to the locker rooms. They were coming in. 

Your breath hitched, blood running cold as footsteps closed in. It was one person, but their steps didn’t sound like the heavy boots before them. They sounded more like…

Sneakers?

The rubber from the intruder’s shoes squeaked on the tiled floors. Ragged breathing echoed off the walls. A low growl, accompanied by quiet whirring. Someone big, someone mean. 

Your heart made its way to your throat as the intruder inched closer. Slow, methodical, as if trained in search and rescue. 

It didn’t feel like a rescue.

The lump almost turned into a scream as an echoed BANG carried from the bathroom stalls around the corner. Silence followed, then a growl, then another BANG. The cycle repeated for the remaining stalls, the intruder slowly creeping along. Growls became deeper upon each disappointment. 

Hostages. They were looking for hostages.

Soles squeaked as the intruder changed course, stomping around the corner to search the line of shower stalls. You hiccuped a sob, realizing tears started to trail down your cheeks. Biting your palm only proved a lame attempt to calm your racing heart, a scream threatening to leave your throat as they began tearing the plastic curtains off the stalls. Each clang of metal cracking onto the tile became closer as you ground your teeth into the meat of your hand. Eyes screwed shut, silent prayers raced in your head, pleading to wake up; to wake up from this hellscape of a sick, twisted nightmare. 

The intruder’s steps stopped. 

Your eyes opened, widening at the blurred, hulking shadow standing outside of your stall. They had to be well over six feet. Towering, bulky, monstrous. 

Slowly, the shadow’s hand reached for the curtain. One by one, its fingers closed around the plastic’s edge, preparing to rip it down and rip you open. Eyes burning, hot tears felt like molten metal as you attempted to make yourself as small as possible in your corner, huddling your knees as close as they could be. This was it. This was the end. You prayed– actually fucking prayed– hoping they couldn’t hear your pathetic whimpering, hoping they would make this quick, painless; break your neck or put a gun to your head and get it over with. Leave your body for someone else to find.

“Soldat, syuda!” 

The command made your heart stop.

The shadow froze, stopped by a call from the entrance to the locker room. Skin met your teeth as you bit harder into your hand. Lungs began panicking as you started hyperventilating, bile reaching your throat and burning the back of your tongue. 

The shadow, the monster, growled in protest. It retracted the curled hand from the curtain, wordlessly moving back towards the bathroom stalls. Footsteps faded as muffled conversation floated away from the locker room.

You needed to get the fuck out of there. 

You slid off the bench, legs aching and knees popping as you crouched silently over to the curtain, peeking out behind the plastic. It crinkled quietly and you bit your lip, leaning out ever so slightly over the threshold. 

Tiptoeing around the corner, you faced the emergency exit. The glowing sign omitted a creepy, green glow that added to the eeriness brought by the generator lights. 

This was it.

You slammed the push bar down, throwing the door open with your body and spilling out into the hallway. Sunlight flashed through the infinite glass hallway, blinding you. In your frozen state, you hear commotion from behind the door as it slammed shut. Banging from the other side, the sound of metal on metal, made your teeth grind. Indents from punches dented the door, deforming its smooth outside. You didn’t stay frozen for long as your body screamed at you to fucking move, now.

Your legs obeyed immediately, carrying you through the corridor to the closest means of escape you could find. As you rounded the corner, the crushing sounds of the door breaking off of its hinges hit your ears. You didn’t dare to look back, sprinting through the twists and turns of the infinite hallway. You followed what felt familiar, burning muscles egged on by the sound of pounding footsteps getting closer and closer.

Finally, you stumbled onto the entrance to a stairwell, pausing to gasp for air your lungs demanded. The burn in your legs and chest only aided in the physiological need to hyperventilate. Sweat dripped from your temple and your head pounded as hard as your feet hitting the ground. 

You leaned into the safety bar, inches away from further distancing yourself from whatever, whoever, was on your trail, when a yell erupted from the end of the hallway. 

It felt like slow-motion; one of those scenes in those cheesy horror movies Sam always made you and Steve watch on weekends off. The ones with cheap FX, bad sound, but somehow great editing for the budget. The scenes where realization hits the main character and suddenly everything is half the speed while they still move in real time. 

You turned your head towards the source. Then, it hit you. Blood drained from your face as the horror of realization hit you, like a speeding sixteen-wheeler head on.

Bucky Barnes stood hulking at the end of the hallway. Generator lights and setting sun illuminated his snarling teeth, gleaming from parted lips that had him panting like a rabid dog. If you hadn’t known better it would’ve looked like he was heading for the gym for his daily workout. Blown pupils, sweat-stuck hair, complimented by a shaking frame– most definitely caused by adrenaline, dopamine, and a slew of Gods-knew-what other drugs he had pumped into his system. Splotches of drying, smeared blood coated his neck and shirt while even more dripped onto the ground from his fists. The crimson contrasted with the medically white floors. 

Bile rose in your throat again. The acidic taste made you dry heave at the sight of the blood, knowing from the looks of Bucky it definitely wasn’t his.

He snarled as your eyes finally met. Fists of flesh and metal flexed. Rippling muscles shook as he readied to launch forward.

“You’re mine, lisitsa!” he barked. His voice booming louder than the speed of sound, it made your ears ring.

Your throat finally opened. You screamed as he sprinted towards you, making more ground down the hallway than an apex predator out of hibernation. You shoved the exit door open, heaving your legs forward as you ascended the stairs. No choice but to go up, you refused to look back– nay you didn’t dare to even consider it. Muscles and tendons and joints burned, yearning for you to stop, but the door slamming from flights below you only pushed you harder, flying up and passing floor after floor. 

You were fast, but he was faster. 

Dizziness overtook you as your vision began to blur. Darkened edges of your peripherals made you stop your climb at level 50, pausing for a split second to hear Bucky’s progress. He was close behind, but you still had more of an advantage. You knew the Tower better than him. You knew level 50 had another stairwell on the opposite side of the floor, through another hallway off the corner of your current one. Sneakers pounded too close for comfort as you shoved the door open and made a break for it down another corridor labyrinth.

If you made it out of this alive, you swore you’d kill Tony’s architect yourself. 

“You can’t hide forever, lisitsa!” Bucky’s voice rang out from the stairwell as you rounded the corner, sprinting through more identical-looking hallways. Another corner later and the glowing red EXIT sign appeared above the next stairwell. A beacon of hope, almost. Relieved, you head straight for it, body and mind and soul pushing against the burning and the gasping for air. You were right there, hand outstretched, fingertips grasping the metal bar–

It felt like a car crash. 

Not an accident or fender bender. No, it felt like seventy miles an hour meets a tree with no intent of moving. That split-second feeling where your stomach drops and you can all but brace for the deadly impact destined for you to meet.

Time stopped as you were yanked backwards. Cold, slick metal wrapped around your ankle, bloody hand print smearing some poor bastard’s DNA all over your calf as your body fell to the ground. Hard. Your jaw clenched as your chin slammed into the linoleum. Teeth ground into your tongue as copper flooded your tastebuds. Your lungs, with little wind left in them, gasped for oxygen. Another scream rising in your throat became stuck in your vocal cords. 

Bucky whipped you around as you struggled to free your lower half. You landed on your shoulder, head bouncing against the floor and teary eyes struggled to stay open and endure the pain. He straddled your form, the weight crashing down on your bones and organs. A sharp inhale impaled your chest as you met Bucky’s darkened eyes, then; the familiar steel blue replaced entirely with dilated, unhinged pupils. 

It was the first time you got a good look at his face. His face is speckled with blood spatter and several bruises spread across his cheek down his neck. Two black eyes, a bloody nose– one you hoped was his– and a broken lip. The bloodied collar of his shirt only aided in the mess of his hair. His soft, chocolate strands stuck in mats to his neck and temples with sweat and blood. 

Out of sheer habit, because he looked like your Bucky, you couldn’t help but reach a hand out to him. A soft plea for the man behind his eyes, one you begged everything holy was still there. He held your stare, face contorting into unrecognizable emotions. Tears brimmed your eyes as your hand stretched further, sobs escaping as your fingers inched closer and closer to his battered face.

“Bucky, it’s me–”

Your appeal transformed into a shriek, quickly snuffed out as Bucky wrapped his crimson-spattered metal hand around your throat. You choked, sputtering lost pleas as your hands flew to your neck. Fingernails flailed in futile attempts to claw off the weapons-grade titanium. 

“You’re done running, khitraya suka,” Bucky’s hot breath fanned your face as he leaned in. His mouth grazed your jaw, titanium hand on your throat flexing with each syllable. He slowly made his way down your neck, pushing harder into your chest with his forearm. A heavy growl. His grip only tightened as you tried to knee him in the groin, picking you up by your neck and slamming you down again.

Stars circled your blurred vision, eyes rolling back into your head. The corridor, the lights, everything split into two.

“You owe me for my victory, lisitsa,” Bucky’s husky whisper resonated in your ear as he licked the side of your face, his hot, wet mouth against your tear-stained cheek. As his free hand moved to the waistband of your shorts, another surge of panic washed through you. You tried to sputter a weak cry from your closed-off throat, blood turning cold, another scream building and building in your chest and aching for release. 

“You owe me what’s mine –!” 

BANG!

Something from somewhere all of a sudden. The object slammed into Bucky, throwing him off of you and spilling across the floor. 

Finally, your lungs lunged at the chance for air, leaving you a heaving, choking, coughing mess. Spitting at the ground as you made your way shakily to your hands and knees, a freed hand traveling to rub the fresh strangulation bruises forming on the column of your stiff neck. 

“Get the fuck off her, Bucky!” 

Steve.

As your vision cleared, the shield whizzed past you as it ricocheted back into Steve’s open arms. Bucky groaned, low and guttural, but only for a moment is he subdued. Slowly, he rose, like smoke from extinguished ashes, looking to his metal vice. A large dent adorned the weathered, bloodied appendage where his bicep met his shoulder. He then turned his attention to Steve, baring his teeth, anger coursing through him as he immediately disregarded you. His sights set on a new target, launching himself at Steve without a beat lost.

Steve grunted as Bucky’s metal fist met the vibranium shield with a deafening clang. Steve gritted his teeth and pushed back, managing to break Bucky’s attack and aim a kick for his stomach.

“Go! I got him!” Steve yelled to you through a gasp as Bucky countered with his own swipe at Steve’s middle. Your body stayed put, relishing in the ability to fucking breathe again, also painfully aware how screwed you’d be if you didn’t escape as you had the chance. You willed yourself to move, to run and to keep going, to no avail. As Steve landed a blow to Bucky, his eyes met yours once more. His baby blues, pained and tired, begged for you to listen to him for once in your life. 

“Now!”

The strain in Steve’s voice seemed to ignite a fire underneath you. Pushing yourself up, you willed your legs to carry you to the exit. Bloody shoe prints tracked your route as you slammed through the doorway. You cursed, knowing they’ll give away which way you’d go, knowing your life matters more than a twenty-dollar pair of sneakers. Kicking them off, throwing the pair down the exit, praying they made it far enough Bucky wouldn’t know any better. 

You threw yourself up the stars, tremors and pain afflicting every limb as the cold concrete seeped in through your socks in each step. The railing helped as you heaved yourself forward with help from the railing. Sweaty palms slipped on the bars, but your grip only grew tighter. 

You didn’t know how you, or your body, was able to do it, making it up seven more flights of stairs before your knees buckled on level 57. Heaving the door open and slamming it shut, you stumbled out into the new hallway. You hadn’t visited that level before. Something Steve and the others– especially Doctor Banner– said was “just a business floor.”

The sign on the wall directing to ‘SAFELAB’ said otherwise. Nothing in the Tower was “just business.” 

What you did know was that every SAFELAB on every floor was located in the same, far-east hallway. 

Wiping the sweat from your temple, you turned right, jogging down the darkened, emptied-out hallway. It felt like the apocalypse. No sign of anybody else. Doors left ajar, papers and bags and other employee memorabilia scattered throughout abandoned offices and cubicles. You hoped everyone was able to make it out, at least.

Part of you didn’t hope for much, though. 

The door to the lab came into view as you rounded the last corner. The door was still locked, the lab inside sterile and untouched. A sigh of relief escaped you. Holding your palm to the door’s scanner, it answered your prayers in a soft beep and whir, miraculously allowing you in. 

You maneuvered through the multiple security doors, four in total, crouching low once you managed to slip into the lab itself. The gigantic window at the front of the labspace spared no room for you to hide easily, but you had zero room to complain about it. It was your only option, after all.

Well, besides the roof. 

Crouched, you snuck your way around the counters and various equipment to one of the supply closets. The furthest corner from the entrance. You scoured through drawers and cupboards for some sort of weaponry; the most you could find was a new scalpel out of a box of extras. 

You closed in on the supply closet, reaching up and grasping the handle, turning it slowly to prevent any squeaks from the inner hinge. A tear glided down your cheek in relief. You hadn’t realized you started crying. Again. 

The door swung open. It greeted you mostly empty, deep enough for you to cram your body into. Crawling inside, bones and limbs contorted into the most comfortable position you could manage. You pinched the edges of the doors to close them as best as you can, accepting they, in fact, couldn’t close all the way from the inside. A curse under your breath, the sliver of dim light through the crack cast onto your face. Once settled, you crumpled your damp t-shirt up from the collar and shoved the fabric into your mouth. Teeth and tongue greeted sweaty cotton and hints of copper as you bit down on the collar, covering your mouth with a free hand. 

At last, after Gods knew how long it had been since you ceased moving, a silenced sob heaved out of your chest. Tremors only worsened as your nervous system rode out the fumes of its adrenaline high and flight mode instincts. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks, mixing with snot further down your face, slipping down to your neck and leaving behind streaked paths in the bloodied, hand-printed bruises adorned on your flesh. The pain from the near-strangulation you suffered broke through the shock and endorphins that were keeping you sane until then. You knew, though, you couldn’t break down. Not yet. Not until you saw Natasha or Steve or someone you trusted face-to-face. 

You started counting your breaths. Mind racing, thoughts traveling near sonic speeds through your mind carrying questions at how the hell it all happened.

You thought for sure S.H.I.E.L.D. was secure, especially after the ordeal with Bucky, Steve, and the whole ‘defeating HYDRA’ ordeal from a few years back. Hell, you thought it was safer than taking the FBI’s recon mission that was offered to you before being referred to Tony himself. Your mind raced, what-ifs and endless possibilities flashing across your eyes like a snuff film. You hoped Steve was okay. You hoped Natasha was on her way to your location any second. You hoped Sam was safe and made it out okay. You hoped Bucky –

Bucky. 

Christ, you hadn’t even stopped to think about how the hell everything happened to him. He’d been doing so well in his recovery program. Steve was even telling you about it that same morning, bragging about how well Bucky was doing, how much progress he was making, how soon they’d finally be able to move in together once Doctor Banner cleared him. Another sob overtook you. How you’d never seen him like that before, the feeling of his titanium arm slowly crushing your windpipe, the weight of his entire body crushing your internal organs as he’d held you down. The things he’d said. You tried to wrap your head around what he’d said, what he was going to do–

Crashing followed by shattering glass emitted a muffled yelp from you as your blood ran cold. Another wave of tears flooded out of your burning eyes, chest heaving unevenly. Your hand clamped even tighter over your mouth as teeth bit into the salty fabric of your shirt, drying up any more moisture your mouth was grateful to finally have.

BANG! Then another. Then more in rapid succession. Shattering, crashing, shattering, silence. The final blow to the security doors sounded from inside the lab itself. Your breath hitched and bile began bubbling in your stomach, reaching the back of your throat and across your tongue. You forced yourself to swallow the acid, listening intently to the crunch of sneakers on shattered glass.

He’d found you. 

“Lisitsaaa,” Bucky drawled, his voice dropped to a primally low octave. Lower than before. You almost couldn’t make out the words, a mixture of growled mumblings of English and Russian. Knees folded closer to your chest, you tightened your grip on the handle of the scalpel. Bucky’s footsteps were slow, methodical, predatorial. 

His heavy steps inched closer, each followed by a pause, then sudden crashing of lab equipment and smashing of drawers. More glass and metal slammed to the ground and walls after each pause. He sounded feet away. Then inches. 

Your breathing stopped as the sliver of light clouded over. The lump in your throat threatened more puke to rise as you dared to peer up through the crack, heart dropping like a dead weight to your stomach as your eyes fell on freshly bloodied sneakers. A stifled scream in your lungs choked you. You refused to think about whose blood that was.

Eyes darted back up. You could see Bucky’s blurred features clouded in shadows. The only light visible, then, was the glint from his wicked smile. Bloodied teeth shone as he licked his lips hungrily, a predator finally cornering its prey. 

Ever so slowly he crouched, shoving his face closer into the seam in the door. Tears and snot continued to stream down your face, your body hyperventilating as you forced yourself to look into his eyes. There was nothing else you could do. Nothing else to say, to cry about. There was nowhere left to run. He got you. 

“There you are, moy priz,” Bucky hissed before reaching through and throwing the doors open, heavy hands leaving imprints in the flimsy metal. Frozen, your fist was still closed around the scalpel, your muscles tensed as joints locked in place. His evil eyes scanned your body greedily, looking for which cut of meat to divulge in first. His gaze stopped at your fist and he chuckled, tisking in a disappointed tone. 

“Oh, glupaya pizda,” Bucky shook his head, amused at your meager choice of weaponry. Compared to him, you might as well have been waving a white flag. His smile only grew, tongue jutting out to lick his lips. Specks of blood coated the sides of his cheeks and edges of his mouth, smeared about from ear to ear with the back of his hand.

“Come with me and they might consider your life, lisitsa–”

You sprung into him, swinging your arm, landing the scalpel into the middle of his flesh hand, impaling straight through it. In an instant, blood spewed from the impact. Bucky screamed out in pain, a slew of mixed language curses reverberating in your skull. You scrambled out of your hiding place, bashing him with a balled fist to the face as you tumbled out and onto your feet, sprinting to the lab’s only exit. Freedom was only an arm’s length away when an overturned stool tripped you. The impact didn’t hurt near as much as the millions of shattered glass bits shredded cut into your skin, your hands and knees and arms and face littered as blood smeared under you and across the once-sterile white floors. You cried out, writhing around. Battered and bloodied, struggling to rise and run again despite the searing pain in your ankle.

Before you could form your next thought, a rough hand snatched your scalp and dragged you up by your hair. You uttered a panicked scream as Bucky hoisted you to eye level, snarling like a rabid dog as he shook you hard.

“I thought you were smarter than that, lisitsa,” he sneered, “but I was wrong.”

He hurled you back onto the floor, his bloodied, titanium fist still gripping your hair, dragging you over to one of the disheveled lab tables. More glass shredded your skin, blood and sweat and tears mixing and pouring over your face and hands and body. With ease and a free hand, he swiped the rest of the contents off another counter; beakers and burners crashed to the floor. His grip tightened as he threw you up onto the stainless steel counter, the dead weight of your body banging onto the table, landing you hard on your back. Eardrums rang into your skull and jaw, radiating down your spine and out your limbs. Your hands slip against the smooth metal from the blood, futile attempts to grab onto something, anything. You groaned and huffed excess sobs. The pain, unbearable; the fear, unimaginable. 

Bucky hoisted himself onto the table, landing on top of your broken body, his knee hitting your spine and knocking your last breath out of you. Straddling you, his thick thighs bulged through tattered sweatpants, squeezing into your rib cage. He looped another fist into your hair, raising your head and slamming it down. The side of your face smushed into the steel table, smearing around more blood as he did it again. And again. The cartilage in your nose cracked and throbbing pain radiated into your eyes, your skull. Warmth from the break and the blood poured over your face. The pain, dulling into numbness as you began to fade in and out of consciousness.

Your vision started to blur and blacken, stars and specks orbiting around Bucky like a halo of hallucination. Your body, finally surrendering to him. No fight left. Any strength you could have mustered, funneled into staying awake, proved useless. 

A new sound, then: ripping.

You didn’t have to look to witness Bucky unrelentingly tear your t-shirt away from your body, training his eyes on your open form. Bruised skin exposed to cool air, your chest still momentarily held together by your sports bra. He made quick work of it next, the nylon snapping off in one swipe, sending goosebumps racing down your spine. 

Ice-cold titanium fingers untangled from your matted hair and made their way from your nape, to the small of your back, to the waistband of your gym shorts. Muscles tensed as you felt each digit wrap almost leisurely onto the elastic. He tore them away swiftly, baring the rest of you and your skin to him. A growl, one of pleasure, vibrated into you from him, emitted he palmed the skin of your ass. His fingers journeyed languidly in a slow trail from your back to your core. You squirmed, wasting the last of your strength, a hopeless attempt to get away one last time. 

A crack came across your face. Flesh against flesh, he slapped you. A punishment. A command for obedience. Your body fell limp. Breathing raggedly and gagging on blood and spit, you shuddered as he took your wrists and tied them together with your t-shirt. 

Satisfied, his prey finally submitting, Bucky paused, panting as he leaned down to you. He wet his lips before speaking, gruff words slurred against your ringing eardrum. As he spoke, cold metal grazed your entrance, a threat of what was to come. 

“Now, I get to take what’s mine.”

Your screams echoed as the world fell dark.

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