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buckyalpine · 11 months

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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.

“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.

“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!

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyess @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog @kingfleury @peaches1958 @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46 @lolawassad @almosttoopizza @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess @buckycallsmeaslut @kamaria-sweet-writes @charmedbysarge @xnorthstar3x @kryoee7 @alina02 @gh0stgurl @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @alltheficsiwant @chemtrails-club @eralen @perdidosbucky-yyo @clqrosmgc @buckybarnessweetheart @pandaxnienke @manyfandomsfanvergent @midnightramyeoncravings

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urdepressedslut · 10 months

Text

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

TAGLIST: @ghostofwinter @silverfire13 @goldylions @potatothots @billy-reads @hanihoney88 @skittle479 @hereticdance @mentalidrainedfangirl @natashassandwich @marvelogic @soul-system @alinasmcu @almosttoopizza @lilbabygirll @sebastiansstanswhore @yujyujj @jasminocano

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jen-with-a-pen · 11 months

Text

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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stuckyfingers · 2 months

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Bucky expression study.

#stucky #bucky barnes #winter soldier #my art #art #hydra trash party #angst #bucky fanart

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koszmarnybudyn · 5 months

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The kids are fine :)

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #normal oak #link li wilson #hermie the unworthy #my art #taylor swift dndads #dndads spoilers #scary marlowe #wierdly every podcast i listen to has some form of tentacles #cw blood #this is a doodle really im probablly never making into a full piece because i drew a lot similar pieces before it was fun tho #you guys remembered that normal was wearing the teenie costume when he got burned (at least im pretty sure) right?#also that blur is hermie not dood #dood is the tentecles #also links pose is a grant refrence like with the hydra at least it was intended as such #im gonna go sleep now good luck with the angst guys #i mean it was this or hermie dying/dying in normals arms so im not sure which hurts worse

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bleedingichorhearts · 27 days

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𝕳𝖞𝖉𝖗𝖆 𝕭𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖑𝖊

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Figured our lovely hydras needed their… lovin’.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams(gibbed me angst brain), @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan.

Thought this song “Fear of the Water” by SYML fit this one.

TW // Angst?

Everything felt gloomy today.

The sun wasn't out to shine across the mountainous landscape to feed the numerus tall grass, wildflowers and pines. It didn't come out and warm my back of the early mornings. It simply was stuck.

Stuck behind dark gray clouds that started off light, that looked soft to touch like some cotton ball. Winds that started off as a quiet breeze before becoming winding howls. Yet not strong enough to send you off your feet. This one was meant to bring in the incoming storm over the sea.

You can see how the dark clouds in the distance rolled, flashing once or twice to show a lighter color of the cloud it once was. How the sea beneath it seemed to grow agitated by the clouds that rumbled back in competition like it was a war between the sea and sky.

You lean back on the wooden bench as the wind whips at the tail of your wool coat. Enjoying the battle of the elements. The smell of fresh rain reaching your nose before the rain itself did, patting softly down on your coat while it absorbed into the wool.

You know you should have headed inside and cozy yourself up with a soft, or perhaps a weighted blanket in hand with a warm cup of hot coco and a book, but you don't make a single move to do so. To enraptured with the cold... calmness the storm brings.

You close your eyes to enjoy the sounds the wind brings among the whispering grass, shuttering bushes, trees and wildflowers. To enjoy what this moment of rain could enhance the flora around you. Oh, how this type of scent never failed to be compared to the candles sold in markets.

Maybe, the Hydra's won't mind if I just sat here a little longer? To leave me to the storm that should have been considered too strong for me to sit out for. That should have had me running back to shelter. To my home. To my hydra's.

Yet, you stayed on that bench. Never moving when the wind whipped it warnings. Never moved when the rain became a little harsher, pelting down on your body. Never moved when the rumbles of the clouds warned you of the storms upcoming arrival. When you know you should have.

A soft coo pulls you out of your space. Your eyes opening up to see a legionnaire standing above you. His glowing green visor staring down at you while he hovered over you. Blocking as much as the downing weather he could from you with his bright blue armor.

Leviathan, you recognize him from the different colored visor. The one who care's a little too much for an Astarte's for his size, but then again. Didn't they all care a little too much for a simple human like me?

Your eyebrows furrow up in sudden deep thought, eyes staring through Leviathan like he wasn't there as these thoughts raided your mind for weeks, months, possibly years, and right in front of him too. God you were a mess, weren't you?

Levithan coos again and comes forward to scoop you up in his arms bridal style as you immediately snuggle into his armor. Not caring if it was wet or hard on your skin. You just needed someone to cling to right now. Needed someone to catch your silent tears as they mix with the rain on his armor.

Leviathan holds you closely, listening, feeling as you silently cry into his armor as he makes his way down the hill. Avoiding the trees, tall grass and big bushes that whipped around for him too much for his taste until he was back into the comfort of the house.

He tried to set you down on your feet, but you cling right back to him every time he tries to gently take you off of him. You just won’t let him leave your side for just a moment. No matter how many times he would softly coo, purr, and chirp at you. Trying to reassure you of his presence. That he wasn’t going nowhere.

Though, it’s not like he doesn’t want to let you go. It just that he wants you to be more comfortable with him. To cuddle you properly without his armor restricting him that pleasure of contact. Yet, you just didn’t let up.

So, the next best thing he could think of is to just lay you back into their nest. Where it was full of the softest, silkiest, and weightiest blankets and pelts in there, just for you. Just for your liking.

He slowly leans you down onto the bed. Your back making contact with the soft furs as he could feel you loosing his grip on his armor, but not completely adamant about it and it wouldn’t be true if he wasn’t either.

He- They were afraid when you didn’t come back to them when the storm rolled in. Each one of them becoming a jumbling mess of nerves. Believing that you had left them alone to themselves. Left them permanently in such a weather they would have a harder time to track you down before you could go anywhere without them.

They were quick to set up a search for you. The three of them splitting up in a direction that you would have gone in. Wanting to find you before the weather became harsher. That would make your scent disappear from them and ruin your tracks.

Although, if that Gray Knight was here. The search would have gone by way faster, but he wasn’t and it was up to them to find her before he comes back. If they don’t, who knows what that Gray Knight would do. Who knows what they would do.

Leviathan started with your regular route as the other two went for the less obvious ones. Making his way towards the tree-line before walking down it where you seemed to have followed along it for a long time before suddenly switching up and headed for the cliffs that over looked the sea.

An odd switch up, but things required new sights.

That’s where he found you however, on the wooden bench looking over the cliff, at the ragging sea with a distant look in your eyes. Something he rarely sees from you and it heavy’s his hearts.

He notifies his brethren that he has found their little serpent. That she hasn’t left them she just… wasn’t in the right mind. She was off on another world. His brothers question him, but he makes it brief and tells them to return home. Their little serpent needs them right now. Not to have questions asked on her whereabouts.

“Please, don’t leave me.” Their little serpent whines as she finally lays back into the nest. Her body engulfed with the blankets and furs. Puffy, red eyes looking up at him. Begging at him to not leave her.

His hearts constricted in his chest of the thought of their little serpent not believing they wouldn’t like her around them. When it was the other way around. They didn’t want her to leave them. They didn’t want her to even remotely dislike them. They didn’t want her to abandon them.

He coos and leans forward on the bed. Watching as it dips under the weight of his armor, sliding you down a little into him. Your hands coming up to slide along his helmet and bring him down into your chest. Your head nuzzling the top of him, tracing the linings of his helmet.

“I want you.” You mumbled, still feeling incomplete. You needed the rest of your boys with you. The rest of them to return home, to return to you. You needed them. You needed all of them. “I want all of you… please?”

Leviathan nuzzles into your chest with a rumbling purr. His visor dimming before lighting up a little brighter. Sending a vox out to his brethren to hurry up, she wanted all of us with her.

You stayed nuzzling the top of Leviathan’s helmet, tracing it occasionally as you dosed off once or twice by the rhythmic purrs Leviathan gave off. Waiting on the arrival of the rest of your boys.

It was a moment before your eyes spotted the familiar form of Hydra leaning through the archway before he could even coo. Your arm coming out to reach for him as he still coos and comes forward on the bed, taking your left side and nuzzling the side of your head, making Leviathan shift down to lay his helmet on your legs. Being mindful of his armor as he nuzzles into your plush thighs.

The last was Asclepius. His soft coos going through the room before anyone could register him as he made quick room to cuddle your left side. His helmet nuzzling the top of your head. A gauntlet coming down to hold you in place by your stomach.

Finally, you felt complete enough that you started to doze off in the bundle of Hydras. Their comforting scents stained with a hint of rain wrapping around you and their soft, combined purrs bring you closer and closer to sleep as it reminded you of being a snuggle pile of very affectionate cats and you realize that you needed them just as much as they needed you.

Your little bundle of Hydra’s.

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holylulusworld · 6 months

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The past always catches up - Halloween

This story was written for @jtargaryen18's Jamie's Halloween Challenge 2023

My prompt was: The Unexpected Visitor: On Halloween night, an unexpected visitor knocks at your door. It's not a trick-or-treater but something else.

Square filled for @buckybarnesbingo: U2: “I knew it was you.”

Summary: The Unexpected Visitor: On Halloween night, an unexpected visitor knocks at your door. It's not a trick-or-treater but something else.

Trope: Villain Reader

Pairing: Winter Soldier x former Handler!(fem) Reader

Warnings: angst, fear, implied revenge, mentions of Hydra/Bucky’s past, implied/past abuse/sexual abuse on the Winter Soldier, hand around throat, no happy ending

Rating: Mature

Words: 1,1 k+

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Life is funny, isn’t it? How does the saying go? The past always catches up.

You can run. You can hide. You can change your name and appearance. But you cannot run away from the guilt you feel, nor the sins you committed.

In the waking hours, you regret your doings. And at night, you have nightmares. You can see every soul you ever hurt. Guilt is eating on your body and soul.

You’ll never be able to wash away the sins sticking to your sin.

How many souls did you doom? How many people did you condemn to commit crimes in the name of an organization so evil that its name alone plants fear into people's minds?

Hydra.

You’re not an innocent victim. Back then, you willingly worked for them. It was the money they offered that made you forget about morals and your humanity.

Growing up poor, but with a sharp mind and ambitions you’ll never be able to reach without money does this to people. If you see a chance, you take it. Sometimes you sell your soul on the way.

After Hydra fell apart, you realized how evil the people you were working for truly were. Until that day, they protected you at all costs.

Being one of their only experts on mind manipulation made you irreplaceable to them. That was, of course, until you made one mistake, and their most important asset managed to escape.

The Winter Soldier.

Your voice and gentle words didn’t lure him in any longer. The asset learned that you are just another monster keeping him hostage. He broke out of the chair during your last session and killed every soul trying to stop him.

You’re the last handler alive. The only one he didn’t kill…yet.

He’s out there, waiting for his chance to get his hands on you. You know your time is running out. The moment he stepped out of the darkness to join forces with Captain America, you knew your life was over.

On the run, you barely have the time to catch your breath until one of the Avengers shows up. More than once you barely escaped.

You’re so tired of running away.

Night terrors keep you awake, and you’re slowly losing your mind.

Every shadow looks like him – the man you forced to do unspeakable things.

Not only in the name of Hydra.

No. You abused your powers and made him your compliant toy. On the cold nights, when you were stuck at the Hydra base, when no one was around but you and the asset you found shelter in his lap.

He wasn’t himself. It was wrong. But you already crossed so many lines you didn’t care about the consequences.

What’s one more sin? Right?

If the dark side inside of your soul already consumed all the light left, nothing is keeping you from taking what you want. And you wanted him.

That’s in the past. Now, that you had faced the consequences of your doings, you know every step you took, guided by Hydra, led you down the road to hell.

Your soul is lost. There is nothing you can do about it but sit and wait for the end to come.

If you can see his steel-blue eyes one last time before you take your last breath, it will be enough to let you rest in peace…

You found shelter at an old, abandoned Hydra hideout. You’re the only soul left knowing about this place.

It’s not much, a cabin that’s falling apart, and nothing but trees around. It’s cold, and the fireplace isn’t working as it should.

You’re used to hiding in such places. There’s no place for luxury and coziness in your life. That’s in the past. You don’t deserve good things in your life.

It’s past midnight when you wake from another nightmare. You wheeze and press your hand to your heart, inhaling and exhaling slowly to calm your racing heart.

Cold sweat makes your clothes stick to your skin, and you shudder at the coldness creeping into your bones.

Glancing at the new burner phone you huff. It’s Halloween out of all days.

You slowly slip out from under the covers, hissing as your feet touch the cold floor. When you are about to walk toward the small kitchenette a knock makes you freeze.

It's not a trick-or-treater, that’s for sure.

Holding your breath, you turn around to stare at the door. You press your hand to your heart and close your eyes. God forgot about you years ago, but you sent a prayer, nonetheless.

This is it. The moment you’ve been waiting for.

Your feet carry you toward the door on their own. Muscle memory is a handy thing. Isn’t it? Even if your mind is a mess, your body knows what to do.

It’s like your body is drawn to the person knocking at your door.

Your trembling hand grips the door handle, you take a deep breath and open it.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Soldat.” He’s as surprised as you are as you look him straight in the eyes. His face is hidden by the mask you know so well, but his eyes give away his excitement. “I’m glad you finally came to collect.”

The Winter Soldier dips his head. This is not what he expected you to do. You’ve been hiding from him and his allies for years. And now, you stand in front of him, shivering at the cold.

You’re not the powerful handler he remembers. “I knew it was you,” he says. His voice sounds different but as dangerous as ever. “Steve didn’t want to believe me. He said you are dead.”

“He’s not wrong,” you reach out to grab his mask and rip it off his face. “My heart is still beating but I died years ago. I’ve only been waiting for you to end me.”

“дорогая (darling),“ he growls before lunging forward to wrap his metal hand around your throat. Your eyes drop to his arm, focusing on the new color as he squeezes your windpipe. You close your eyes and embrace the darkness. “Goodnight…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#winter soldier #buckybarnesbingo2023 #jamieshalloween2023 #bucky barnes #angst #the winter soldier x fem!reader #hydra reader #dark elements #The past always catches up - Halloween #kinktober vs flufftober 2023

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sokoviansimp · 8 months

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Fear, Guilt, & Hope

Part 1.5 to Love's Triumph: A Maximoff Miracle

✒ Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

✒ Summary: Wanda finds out that you're pregnant in the hospital while you fight for your life.

✒ Tags and Warnings: angst

✒ Author's Note: So, this takes place in the middle of the first part, here we see Wanda's POV while reader is unconscious in the hospital. You can all thank @xxxtwilightaxelxxx for this one. Hope you like it :)

✒ Word Count: 984

✒ Read Time: 5 minutes

Masterlist : Socials

Wanda sat by your hospital bed, her heart heavy with worry. Her beloved wife lay unconscious, battered, and bruised from the battle they had fought against Hydra. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of medical equipment and the distant sounds of the hospital.

As she held your hand, Wanda's thoughts swirled with a mix of fear, guilt, and confusion. She couldn't bear to see you like this, so vulnerable, and it tore at her soul. Her mind replayed the events of the battle, the moment when she had found you buried beneath the rubble, unconscious and unresponsive. The image haunted her.

A nurse entered the room, a sympathetic look in her eyes. "Mrs. Maximoff, we've received the results of the tests we ran on your wife," she said gently.

Wanda nodded, her heart pounding. "What is it? Is she going to be okay?"

The nurse smiled warmly. "Physically, she'll recover. They both should be just fine, Y/N just needs a bit of time for her body to decide it’s time to wake up."

Relief washed over Wanda, but her mind hung on that one word, “I’m sorry, both?”

“Yes, both Y/N and the baby should be just fine.” the doctor clarified.

Wanda's world seemed to spin. Baby? You’re pregnant? It was a mixture of joy and terror that washed over her. “We’re having a baby,” Wanda whispered as she smiled and looked down at you, her eyes filling with tears.

Tears of joy for the new life they had created together, but also tears of fear for what it meant for their future. Wanda had always been aware of the destructive power of her abilities, the chaos that lurked not only within her but around her. She had kept it at bay as best as she could, but now, with you carrying their child, the weight of responsibility bore down on her like never before.

The nurse's voice brought her back to the present. "I can imagine this is a lot to process. We have counselors available if you'd like to talk to someone."

Wanda nodded, her voice trembling. "Thank you, but I think I just need a moment alone with my wife, please."

Alone again, Wanda turned her attention back to you. Her heart ached with love and worry. She reached out to gently stroke your cheek, her thumb wiping away a stray tear that had fallen from her own eyes.

"Oh God, Y/N. This is what we’ve wanted for so long and- and now that it’s here, I-I don't know if I can do this," Wanda whispered, her voice filled with anxiety and self-doubt. "What have I done?" Wanda continued to herself, her voice shaking. She had always known that her powers were unpredictable, that they could bring destruction as easily as protection. But now, with you carrying their child, the reality of the situation was suffocating her.

She couldn't shake the fear that she might either unintentionally harm you or their unborn child, or not be enough to save one of you. Every memory of her past mistakes and the chaos she had caused haunted her like ghosts. The room seemed to close in around her, and she felt utterly powerless. What she had thought was a brilliant idea at one time with you by her side, is now something she can’t even fathom as a miracle but rather a curse.

Wanda reached out, her trembling hand brushing your cheek as if seeking some kind of reassurance. "Please, Y/N," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Wake up. I need you."

Time seemed to crawl as Wanda sat there, her anxiety growing with each passing minute. She couldn't help but blame herself for your current condition. If she hadn't been so reckless during the battle, if she had been more aware of her surroundings, if she had seen that blue streak quicker then maybe she could’ve stopped it...

The blue streak, an all too familiar sight. It had to be her brother, she was sure of it. She had seen that exact display countless times before, whether it was to steal a purse from a display window for a girl he fancied, or a way to sneak past enemy lines. It was him, and yet all she had heard from her friends since his disappearance in Sokovia was that he was dead, gone, never coming back. Guilt washed over her like a tidal wave. She knew that wasn’t the case and yet she let them convince her of it. Her suspicions fell on deaf ears, and one day she let them persuade her that it was just a part of grief.

If she had just stayed true to her instincts maybe you wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed right now. Maybe she would’ve been prepared to face him. Once her thoughts had run through all the guilt of what she could’ve done differently to protect you, it swiftly drifted to what they had done to Pietro. Why was he with them? How? What kind of torture or manipulation had they subjected him to that he would fight against her, his own twin, and the Avengers? The thought filled her with a mixture of anger and sorrow.

She was determined to save her brother from Hydra’s antics. As soon as she managed to temporarily push that other thought aside, it inevitably returned to remind her of the daunting reality: she was expecting a child. With her plate already seemingly overflowing, the added responsibility of saving her brother was surely a lot to balance. Surely a rescue mission will put an even larger target on her family’s back, but the tantalizing closeness to reuniting with him and the fact that he will be able to meet her future child fills her heart with a speckle of joy and just enough hope to keep her going.

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rogerswifesblog · 2 months

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Story idea!

@jamneuromain are working on a little story (it was mostly her amazing idea that we continued to vent about till it became a wip) but we need a title for it! We have come up with some ideas. And it’s up to you which will be the final title!

All you need to know about the story: enemies to lovers, misunderstandings, injuries and amnesia!

Okay, okay, here’s also the real summary:

This is not how you envisioned your day: Waking up at a hospital with a head injury, surrounded by strange people, and of course, you are desperate to go home.

Wait, where is your home? And more importantly, who are you??

Luckily, you have a dutiful (and handsome) fiance who expresses his regret and worry that you fell. On your head. Thus, all your memories are gone.

Amnesia is a bad thing, isn't it?

Too bad you didn’t remember you never had a fiancé.

Now to the titles

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain hydra #veras venting #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #flood my inbox #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers au #steve rogers angst #another wip????#enemies to lovers

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buckrecs · 1 year

Note

HELLO so i was wondering if you have some winter soldier x reader fics?? ive been trying to find some but theyre all so short (still amazing stories tho) tysm, i really appreciate you making recs

Winter Soldier!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

Into Cursed Pixie Dust by @buckets-and-trees

“He's credited over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years…” but you don’t know that. You run into him once, then again, again, again. Destiny draws you together, and neither of you can deny the pull. And yet though he never ages, you do.

Stalker by @you-are-my-sanctuary

In which Bucky has a crush on the new PR manager and is being an adorable stalker.

sleepwalking by @lanadelreyscokewhor3

when your boyfriend bucky wakes up with the winter soldier mindest, you do the only thing you know how to do- comfort him. he does the only thing he knows how to thank you- possessive sex.

Colors in the Dark by @buckychrist

The world is without color, and that’s never bothered the Winter Soldier. The Fist of HYDRA didn’t have time for love and soulmates. At almost a century old, what are the odds that his soulmate was even still living?

ephemeral by @earlgreydream

the winter soldier shows up wounded at your door during a storm.

Purgatory by @wkemeup

While on a mission, Bucky becomes dissociated into the Winter Soldier. But instead of becoming a threat, his instinct is to protect.

a soldier gone rouge by @kinanabinks

the winter soldier has been sent to kill you. why, then, are you so wet?

Reverse Psychology by @waiting4inspiration

Bucky’s Winter Soldier mode is triggered. But you have something up your sleeves that will bring him back.

Comply by @gogolucky13

With Hydra, everyone is a prisoner.

Don’t Fear the Reaper by @gogolucky13

One night, the Winter Soldier appears at your place of work to eliminate a target. He leaves you alive, only to return a few months later.

Fatal Mistake by @rookthorne

A rogue agent amidst their ranks, it was the perfect plan, a perfect escape. It was their fatal mistake.

Wolf, Partner, Gloves… by @revengingbarnes

HYDRA’s words make Bucky go into Winter Soldier mode. Then he meets you, and you make for him words that will bring him back to normal.

the dragon and her shadow by @kashimos-hajime

You fall in love with the Winter Soldier, and they punish you for it. Sentiment is weakness, but what can they do? After all, they cannot kill the Fist of H.Y.D.R.A. and mortal men cannot even begin to comprehend slaying a dragon.

take it easy, romeo by @sunmoonandeddie

The Soldat remembers one person through it all.

You Found Me by @samthemarvelfan

Bucky Barnes always came home to you. What happens when he doesn't? Worse than that...what happens when he forgets you existed?

Gone Again by @tokoyamisstuff

The Winter Soldier is lost and confused, unable to remember a single thing - except for the place where he’d find the woman that had become his safe space.

I’ll Come Back for You by @milliedazzledust

something where he is in winter soldier mode and protecting the scientist (y/n) where she is the only one who can sort of calm him down after a mission.

Void by @theeleggymeggy

Working as a nurse at HYDRA, you find yourself intervening when you catch Alexander Pierce striking The Asset. You don’t even know this man, but you can’t just stand and watch him be beat down.

Sweet Memory by @

SERIES

One’s Promised by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Living a double life was not a choice when one was the daughter of Alexander Pierce. Y/N was the youngest agents of SHIELD and one of the most respected threats within Hydra’s empire. No matter her allegiance, she was feared by both. Y/N Pierce would’ve tried to escape it all… if it hadn’t been for The Winter Soldier.

Soldat by @the-fallen-nightmare

Captain America and Reader have worked together at SHIELD for over a year. What happens when they have a run in with The Winter Solider and Steve finds out the secret Reader had been hiding from him all this time? And what happens when reader is captured by Hydra and The Winter Soldier, again. Can she make Soldat remember her or is her life with Steve just a slow fading memory now?

Breach by @darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor (dark)

The reader finds herself in the Winter Soldier’s cross hairs during a lock down.

Reset by @lunarbuck

The government has fallen, Hydra has taken over. You were an agent of SHIELD long before the reign of terror began, and became a member of the resistance when they needed you most. Everything changes when the Winter Soldier captures you from your safe house.

Devil’s Backbone by @trashmenofmarvel

With your team dead and your mission failed, you’ve been taken by the assassin to an unknown location and are at the mercy of your cruel tormentors.

Krasavchik by @after-avenging-hours

While under orders from Karpov to test the Soldat’s loyalties to Hydra, you find yourself questioning your own loyalties.

Welcome Home… Soldat? by @winterarmyy

Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' everytime he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else.

#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 #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes series #winter soldier!bucky #winter soldier!bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x agent!reader #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky barnes x hydra!reader #winter soldier smut #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!winter soldier #sex pollen

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urdepressedslut · 1 year

Text

Void

♡ Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Hydra!Fem!Reader/The Winter Soldier x Hydra!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Working as a nurse at HYDRA, you find yourself intervening when you catch Alexander Pierce striking The Asset. You don’t even know this man, but you can’t just stand and watch him be beat down.

♡ Warnings: violence, angst, mentions of guns, unwanted touching, mentions buckys trauma, poor sweet bucky

You took your place as the caboose in the group of people, lingering behind as you ducked your head, avoiding the judgmental stares from the guards.

Sometimes you wondered if anyone even knew your name. You were practically invisible. You stayed out of everyone’s way, never attempting to make conversation. You learned your place here, you were not to speak out, your thoughts and opinions meaning nothing.

You were only ever useful or needed when The Asset needed to be fixed up. You were efficient in your work, cleaning and stitching wounds with expertise. Despite your shaky hands that came with the pressure and anxiety sometimes, you were good at what you did. But it was rare that anyone ever praised you for your hard work, not that you were ever expecting a thanks, but it would be appreciated.

You were not blind to HYDRA’s motives, but you were also in a dangerous position to speak out. HYDRA had control of your life, you were shackled to them.

You had no family left, only your uncle, who happened to be one of the leaders of HYDRA.

Alexander Pierce.

Although he was your blood, he never felt like family. Treating you like someone under him, ordering you around, forcing you to follow him. It felt fair to not even consider him family, as far as you knew, your family were dead.

“Move it, girl.” One of the guards snapped, noticing your pace slowing while you were stuck in your thoughts.

Speed walking to catch up, you swallowed nervously as you approached closer to your destination.

The sound of commotion could be heard ahead, just outside the room. Your hands were clammy, making it difficult to hold your supplies tightly.

The group separated to the sides, leaving you a cleared path to enter. The sudden attention on you had your heart pounding, your chest rising and falling erratically.

You shuffled from foot to foot, hesitating, frozen in your spot. Your chest started to ache, and you cursed yourself that this wasn’t the time for a panic attack.

“Go now!” The guard closest to your right yelled, making you flinch back.

Bowing your head apologetically, you forced your feet to move into the room. The atmosphere immediately tense, the air thick with machinery fumes. It was when you entered the room completely, you allowed yourself to look up. Taking in the scrawny handlers scattered around the room, their expressions blown in fear. Armed guards fenced the room, their weapons pointed at the defensive man in the middle. The Asset.

You felt like you had entered at the wrong time, things seeming to be a tiny bit chaotic.

Your gaze fell upon the tense man, his muscles flexing with what seemed like panic. You didn’t know this man very well, only having fixed him once or twice before, but the far away look he always wore, saddened you.

From what you could tell from your time here, was that he was loyal. Never speaking unless asked to, really quick to follow orders. He rarely acted human, and you were beginning to wonder if he even was. He was emotionless, despite his occasional sadness and rage. But it was the slightest ghost of emotion, that you’d miss if you blinked.

You couldn’t help yourself from feeling bad, the restraints and many guards proving he was to be tamed. Meaning he was probably being kept here against his will. That thought made your stomach twist.

It didn’t surprise you, coming from HYDRA, you knew they were known to take things to drastic measures. Willing to do whatever it takes. You felt sick to even lift a hand in helping them, but again, you didn’t really have a choice. Either help stitch a few wounds or die a painful death. Or worse, become a robot like The Asset, being controlled by HYDRA’s hands.

Scanning his body, you didn’t seem to find any open wounds. A crease formed in between your brows, wondering why you were here if there wasn’t any wound for you to fix.

Turning to the closest guard, you anxiously met their hardened gaze.

“Excuse me… What am I supposed to—”

“Calm him down.” The guard snapped, focusing his glare back on The Asset.

You furrowed your brows even more, you were a nurse, not a counselor.

“I don’t know what you—”

“Calm. Him. Down.” The guard spat, readjusting his aim of the gun of you, “Or I’ll shoot you.”

The end of the gun being pointed at you was intimidating, the threat looming in the air, and you were confident that the guard was not bluffing. Swallowing thickly, you moved your numb feet, placing your stuff down on the table.

Side eyeing The Asset, you walked in front of him, watching his empty gaze look right through you. You didn’t know how you should approach him, cursing the guards for throwing you into this so suddenly.

He was being treated like a threat, and you found it funny that you felt threatened by everyone else in the room, besides him.

“Um… Hi there,” You started, not receiving any hint that he’d heard you, “I know you’re nervous, but everything will be alright. Just take a deep breath.”

You heard guards chuckling, giggling at your weak attempts at consoling the man. You felt self conscious, embarrassed by the way they stared down at you.

You couldn’t help but feel terrible for lying to this man. How was it right for you to assure him everything’s fine, when it was far from it?

“I need you to take a deep breath, please?” You said softly, your words coming out slightly desperate.

It was a split second, but the man’s eyes had snapped to yours, confusion painted in his orbs. His muscles relaxed only slightly, and before you could say anymore, Alexander Pierce himself was striding into the room.

“Step away.” Pierce demanded, motioning to a guard when you weren’t fast enough. You were grabbed harshly, feeling yourself get yanked back to the guards chest.

You immediately felt uncomfortable in the guards tight hold, wiggling to create some distance.

“Don’t you fucking move.” The guard spat into your ear, making you halt your movements and shiver in fear.

You watched Pierce examine The Asset, repeating his question when he hadn’t responded. Pierce suddenly cranked his hand back, backhanding The Asset, his head jolting harshly to the side.

You winced hearing the loud smack, you felt angered for this man. Hating the way they treated him like a caged animal, abusing him for their needs. You couldn’t just stand aside and watch this happen.

Ripping yourself out of the guards hold, you walked up to Pierce, chest puffed out in attempt to look confident.

“Stop this! He didn’t do anything wrong!” You told him, your voice the loudest it had ever been.

Pierce glanced over to you, entertained by your attempt to protect The Asset.

“I wasn’t aware that you were in charge?” He asked you, not giving you a chance to speak, “That’s right, you’re not. Who do you think you are, to think you have a place to speak to me?”

You scrunched your face in frustration and disgust, hearing the last family member you had say such things, cutting you deep.

“I’m your niece.” You whispered weakly.

“You’re nothing to me. Just a pathetic nurse we keep around. Do not forget that you are expendable.” He stated so calmly, making your eyes water from the humiliation.

Staying silent, you felt defeated, staring at the ground. Pierce scoffed, turning towards the scrawny man behind The Asset.

“Wipe him.” Pierce commanded.

Your eyes shot up at those words, no stranger to what would come from that torturous machine. The horrific screams that plagued your nightmares, echoing down the halls from this very room.

“No!” You shouted, causing everyone to stop what they were doing and stare at you, “I haven’t stitched his wound yet.”

Pierce squinted his eyes, studying your gaze. He walked closer, invading your personal space, grabbing you by the collar of your uniform.

“I don’t care what you do, just do it quick and leave.” He whispered venomously, his eyes glaring into yours. You could almost see his orbs turn red with fury.

With a shove, he pushed you away, causing you to catch yourself on stumbling feet.

Thankful that he was too busy to care about your lie, he walked out of the room. All the guards but one following him, leaving you with the one guard. The scrawny handlers stepped into another room, waiting for you to finish so they could wipe The Asset.

You watched the man carefully, acknowledging his beaten down expression. His eyes empty and haunting.

The guard walked up to you, shoving you forward with a little too much force, causing you to fall on your hands and knees.

“Hurry it up!” The guard yelled, raising his gun, training it on you.

You huffed, ignoring the throbbing in your hands and knees for now. Standing up, you turned and faced the guard.

“I need to be alone with him.” You said softly, earning a laugh from the guard.

“Yeah right, now shut the fuck up and start.” He spat.

“I need him calm, and he can’t calm down with you in here.” You told him, yours hand motioning to the gun in his hands.

“Why would I listen to you?”

“Because if you were smart, you’d leave and let me do my work. For your sake, if Pierce comes back and finds The Asset not taken care of… He won’t be happy.” You threatened, the guard surprisingly shutting up.

Sending you another deathly glare, the guard walked out of the room, slamming the door on the way out.

With him gone, it was just you and The Asset, and for some reason you felt like you could breathe fully. You felt like you weren’t being watched, your shoulders relaxing from being so tense.

“I’m not hurt.” A soft voice sounded, your eyes glancing up to the man.

His voice had startled you, you weren’t expecting this muscled, intimidating looking man to have such a gentle voice.

You looked at him, giving him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I know, I just… I just wanted you to have some time alone for a little bit. I’m sorry.” You explained, keeping your voice quiet.

Meanwhile, Bucky was confused on why you would do such a thing. Kindness was foreign to him, and he wasn’t expecting it to come from anyone from HYDRA. Looking closely at you, he wondered why you were in a place like this to begin with. You didn’t seem to fit in.

“I wish I could run away from here.” You whispered out loud, feeling comfortable with him, not worried about him judging you.

All you received was a grunt in response. The two of you sat in silence, neither bothering to create conversation. In a way the two just enjoyed each other’s company.

After a while, you were surprised to hear the man’s gentle voice again.

“I wish I could too.” He whispered.

“Wish you could what?” You had forgotten what you were talking about before, losing yourself in the comfortable silence you had both found.

The man held your eyes in a desperate gaze, almost as if he were pleading for help.

“Run away.”

A/N: i just realized most of my work is angsty and depressing and well 🥴 that pretty much explains me lol. this idea came to me while i was eating lunch today, let me know what you think🤍

#reader insert #light angst #fluff #marvel cinematic universe #marvel imagines #buckybarnes #oneshot #the winter soldier #imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #the winter solider x reader #hydra marvel #bucky barnes x hydra!reader

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sarahowritesostucky · 6 days

Text

📖"Breeding the Winter Soldier"

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 7893

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: a/b/o, Omega Bucky, Alpha Steve, Hydra wins, dark AU, forced mating, breeding program, coerced sex, restraints, heats/ruts, forced to fuck, past Bucky x Brock, HTP adjacent, mind control, anal sex, hurt/comfort (mostly comfort)

A.N.: this was written all the way back in 2017!

Breeding the Winter Soldier

“Looks like they gave Cap his assignment,” Rollins chuckles from where he’s sitting, boots propped up on the observation room’s control panel. “Doesn’t seem too happy about being told he’s gotta breed ‘im.”

Brock scoffs lightly, unable to help himself from lighting up out of frustration as he stares through the one-way glass window at their prisoner. Smoking isn’t allowed inside the facility, but that’s never stopped Brock. “This is bullshit,” he complains around the cigarette between his lips, tossing the spent match to the floor as he gets a good first lungful of nicotine. Beyond the window, Captain fucking America—or what used to be Captain America— is pacing, pacing, pacing, distressed at the news. Brock seethes quietly. “Project Genesis is mine. He was supposed to be mine.”

And now Steven Grant Rogers is the one they want instead. The superior choice, apparently, for siring little super-soldiers. Brock had broken whatever he’d been holding when he’d first heard the order come down—a coffee mug, he thinks it was. The order strictly reassigned him as handler only to the asset, the one to supervise the project. Supervise. Brock cringes at the restriction of the word. He’s been the asset’s commanding officer for going on five years now. Unofficially, he’s been his alpha for two. He’s the one who knows the asset, understands him. He’s the only one who knows how to make him work right, how to get through to him. He’s the one who cares about him, who satisfies him through his heats. And now Hydra is forcing him to give that all away?

His mate is going to be so confused.

Rollins tells him to chill. “I’m sure they’ll still let you fuck around with him once he’s pupped a few litters.”

“That’s not the fucking point!” Brock roars, angry but not at Rollins. Jack seems to know this, as he doesn’t move at all from his lazy posture in the chair. “He’s my omega. I’m perfectly capable of breeding him, if that’s what they want.”

Rollins shrugs. “You ain’t got that super soldier sperm.”

“Captain. Hail Hydra.”

Steve looks up from where he’s been eating his breakfast and frowns at the sight of Rumlow. It’s strange and upsetting to see people that he knew from before. People who he’d thought were the good guys. Brock looks the same as he did a year ago. Same haircut, same face, same tactical gear that he used to wear when he was on Shield’s Strike team, when he was Steve’s friend. Only now there is no Shield, and there are no friends. Now they all belong to Hydra whether they want to or not.

“Hail Hydra,” Steve mumbles into the cold milk of his cereal.

“Gotta come with me, Cap,” Rumlow tells him. “Today’s the day.”

Steve looks up at him, eyes angry and tired. “I’m not doing it,” he says. He’s fucking not doing it. They can’t make him.

“I’m not in the mood for this today.” Rumlow calls in the four guards that he’s brought with him and has them stand there with their stun batons as a warning for Steve. Before, they never would’ve been enough to keep him subdued. But that was before. Steve knows it’ll be no use trying to fight them off. He lets his spoon drop into the cereal bowl.

They take him down to the wing where they keep Bucky, to a room with a bed, a minifridge and an exam chair. It’s a heat suite, where they intend to force him to do this, Steve supposes. Bucky’s not there. There’s a tech waiting for them and when Steve lays eyes on the prepped syringes he tenses, tries to turn around. He winds up with a stun baton jammed to his neck and the next thing he knows he’s restrained in the chair. The tech is bringing a needle over and Steve pulls with all his might against the mag restraints. They don’t budge. “Relax,” Rumlow says. He’s standing beside Steve. “It’s just something to help you.”

“Help me how?” Steve asks, afraid. He’s already drugged up six ways to Sunday. Drugs to keep him weak, drugs to keep him dazed, drugs to keep him calm. If he didn’t heal so rapidly his inner arms would look like pincushions by now. The injections erase who he is, erase any possibility of a fight, let alone an escape. He doesn’t want any more injections.

“Something to kickstart your rut,” Brock says. He points to the other needles, one by one. “An aphrodisiac. A benzo to lower your inhibitions. Hormones to increase the chances of conceiving.”

Steve sneers. “I’m not doing it. I’m not hurting him.”

“You sure as hell better not,” Brock tells him, and there’s something about the way that he says it that has Steve paying closer attention. Steve takes notice of how tense Rumlow seems, upset almost. He smells the sour tint of possessiveness rolling off of him. “He’s mine,” Brock says. It’s obvious he’s not talking about his role as Bucky’s handler.

Steve squints for a moment. “…No,” he says, eyes widening. Rumlow smirks when he sees that Steve is finally figuring it out. “You’ve had him.”

“Wow. Took you long enough Cap. Thought you would’ve at least smelled him on me, all the times I fucked him before passing you in the hall.”

Steve grits his teeth, fury building in him in a way that he didn’t think was possible, not with all of the mood stabilizers Hydra’s got him on. “You fucking raped him?!” The tech comes over and jabs Steve while he’s distracted, not that he can move much in the restraints anyway. The needle stings going in, but the anger coursing through him is worse than the cold flush of medicine through his veins.

Brock looks at Steve with contempt. “I’m his handler. He hasn’t been raped since I started caring for him.”

Steve pants in his seat, feeling his temperature start to climb as the drugs work into his system. “Is that what you call it?” he sneers. “You think you’re taking care of him?”

“I know you’re not happy about this,” Brock tells him. “But let me tell you something: neither am I.”

“What are you talking about?”

Brock tells the tech to get out of the room. He orders the AI system that they stole from Stark Industries to stop monitoring them. Once they’re all alone he tells Steve, “He’s mine, Rogers.” Steve growls at him and that makes Rumlow roll his eyes. He drags a stool over to sit right in front of where Steve is restrained. “What you’re participating in? It’s called Project Genesis.”

“Yeah, trying to make baby supersoldiers, I get it,” Steve snaps. “I’m not doing it.”

“It’s the only fucking reason you’re alive right now,” Brock tells him. “And it’s the only reason he’s not gathering dust in some cryo vault.”

Steve can’t suppress his frown. “What?”

Brock sighs. “You’ve both been decommissioned. Hydra is a major world power now. One or two enhanced assets aren’t worth our time anymore. An army of supersoldiers, however, is. That’s what he’s still useful for.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Yeah? How do you think I feel?” Brock snaps. “I was the one who was supposed to breed him. Was working on it just fine till they brought you in. I’m sure you think he’ll be happy to see you but let me tell you, he won’t.” Brock can smell the change coming over the other alpha, can smell his body ramping up for a rut. Beneath the scent of sex hormones is the sour tinge of chemicals. It makes Brock want to curl his nose and bare his teeth in a challenge, or maybe turn away to escape the smell altogether. “He doesn’t know you Cap, and you’re just going to scare him if you come at him acting like he should be glad to see you.”

Steve glares at him. “He does remember me. He knew me on the helicarrier.” Bucky had known him. He had.

But Brock shakes his head. “No. He only has bits and pieces Rogers. He’s my omega. I bonded to him years ago.”

Steve growls and pulls at his restraints again. “No!”

“Calm the fuck down!” Brock leans in closer. He looks mad. Smells mad too. “This isn’t about you or me. It’s not up to us. Do you think I’d let you touch him if it was?”

“He’s not yours,” Steve grits out. “And I’m not going to touch him.”

Brock huffs. “You wait till those drugs kick in, you’ll be singing a different tune.” He looks at Steve seriously. “And just so you know, he’s already in heat.”

Steve’s eyes widen at that. “What?”

“Yeah. He’s hot and aching and he knows what his mission is. He’s not going to fight it,” Brock says. “But he’s expecting me. He’s expecting someone that he knows to help him feel better. And he’s going to be confused when I bring him in here and tell him that he has to let another alpha fuck him. A stranger. So I need for you to calm down. I don’t want him scared. You and I are going to talk to him together and you’re going to be gentle with him.”

Steve can feel arousal building in himself, and it’s strange to feel that while he’s sitting there next to Rumlow, being told all of this. The chemically-induced rut is coming on fast. “Shit,” he curses, head falling back to the chair behind him. He can feel himself firming up beneath the thin cotton of his sleep pants and he hates that he can’t hide it from Rumlow. “I can’t do this. Please don’t make me do this.”

“Get it together Cap,” Rumlow snaps, unhappy.

“Fuck you!” Steve spits.

Brock sighs. “I was hoping you’d shut up but I can see that’s not going to happen. He crosses the room only to return with a gag in his hands. He forces Steve’s jaw open and presses the ball gag in, saying nothing about the fight Steve puts up. Once it’s secured and Steve is heaving angry breaths at him, Brock says, “I’m going to get him now. If you care about him at all you won’t make this worse for him than it has to be.” He gets up and leaves through the room’s only door and Steve is forced to wait long minutes, panting and sweating at the oncoming rush of a forced rut.

The asset is relieved when its handler comes to retrieve it. It entered its heat hours ago and has had to wait, alone and aching, in the little room. “Come on James,” the handler says when the asset stands from its little cot, and the asset remembers that this is supposed to be its name. He’s never heard it before—not from anyone besides his handler. It's probably invented, but he likes that he uses it. Even if it’s made up, it’s something special between just the two of them.

Now they’ll go to the other room, the one where they always go when he is to be bred. James looks forward to it because he knows it’ll make him feel better. Brock (that’s his handler’s name. He’s allowed to use it when they’re alone) will give him everything he needs, will knot him and hopefully fill him with pups. That’s their mission. So far they’ve been unsuccessful but the asset thinks it’s because his heats used to be so unpredictable. Now he’s been out of cryo long enough that he’s cycling regularly again, his body ready for a pregnancy.

The asset has never thought about reproducing. An assassin doesn’t think of such things, a weapon certainly doesn’t. But James does. James doesn’t mind his new mission. He hasn’t told his handler, but he secretly prefers serving Hydra this way over what he used to do. This way he doesn’t have to go into the cold. And they don’t wipe him. And there’s someone who cares for him—his alpha. Deep down, he secretly likes the idea of having a baby, something that’s his that isn’t garbage or government-issued. Something that’s all his. He doesn’t tell his handler about this either.

They enter the other room and there is someone else there. It’s a man, an alpha. He’s restrained and in rut, that much is clear right away. The asset is nearly knocked back by the abrupt smell of him. Brock notices and laughs, reaching to grab him by the arm and pull him closer. “Easy babe.”

The asset scans his eyes over the man on the chair. He’s big. Tall and muscled, with blond hair and handsome features. He’s clearly upset. He struggles against his bonds as they approach, making useless sounds through the gag in his mouth. The asset looks questioningly at Brock. “Who is he?” He’s not really supposed to ask questions unprompted, but over time he’s learned that it’s okay with his handler, with Brock.

“His name is Captain Rogers,” Brock says. “Former SHIELD operative. He’s an enhanced like you are.”

The asset nods. He was unaware that there were others like himself. There used to be a program, but it had failed. He can remember helping, being tasked with training a group of men and women to make them stronger, better. But they’d gone wild and had been eliminated. The mission had failed.

“We have new orders,” Brock tells him, and this is when he takes his hand, squeezes it reassuringly. James purrs at the contact, moves to begin removing his clothes as is expected of him. But Brock stops him. “Wait, babe.”

The man in the chair growls at the pet name and James whines. He doesn’t want the other alpha to be there. He wants to be naked, in a bed, under his mate. “I’m hot,” he points out. “I need to get undressed.”

“You can,” Brock tells him. He pets the side of James’ face. “But I’m not going to be here with you.”

The asset frowns in confusion. “What?” He doesn’t understand. This is the breeding room. James is in heat. It’s their mission—they’ll be punished if they don’t complete it. The asset tilts his head, baring his neck, trying to show his alpha how ready he is. “Alpha please,” he whines. He’d hit the floor and present if not for the other alpha in the room. “I’m in heat. I need it.”

Brock shushes him, gentles a hand down his side. It feels good but it’s not nearly enough. “I know baby, I know. You’ll get a knot, just not mine.” The asset is confused again, but only for a second. His eyes dart over to where the other alpha is bound. Brock sees this and he nods, “Yeah baby, you’re going to mate with him.”

“What?” A low noise of distress leaves James’ throat, unbidden. He’s not supposed to make noises like that. But Brock never punishes him for such mistakes, not when it’s just the two of them. “No. You’re supposed to do it. You’re my mate,” he says, feeling scared. He’s not supposed to argue with directions. “Alpha?” he says, trying to press his nose into Brock’s neck, trying to ignore the other man in the room. “The mission,” he urges. “Breed me. Put pups in me.”

But Brock just kisses his temple and sets him back firmly. “Sorry babe,” he says. “It’s orders.”

Steve tries to speak through the gag but of course it’s no use.

He is forced to sit there and watch as Rumlow comes into the room with Bucky, holding his hand, for Christ’s sake. Bucky doesn’t seem to mind at all. He makes a pleased sound whenever Brock touches him, and when he calls him pet names. Steve feels his guts lurch at the obvious show of affection between them. He feels jealously flare up in his core like a rabid animal, wanting to kill the other alpha for touching Bucky, for trying to claim the omega that should be his.

That, he knows, is his rut talking. It’s gotten worse in the past ten minutes since Brock left him here, tied to the exam chair and gagged. Steve’s skin itches and his pulse throbs. Between his legs, he’s hard. And now that Bucky has come into the room, now that Steve can smell him, it’s so much worse. Bucky smells like damp, cloying earth. He smells like dark, cramped spaces and tangled up bodies. He smells like something Steve wants to bury his face in and not come up for air from. Steve takes one look at him and feels the urge to chase him, catch him, pin him down come unbidden. All he can do is wiggle ineffectively in his bonds.

In front of him, Brock is telling Bucky that he has to mate with Steve. Steve’s heart clenches when Bucky looks over to him, tense and afraid. His eyes do not hold recognition. Steve listens as Bucky pleads and whines to Brock, calling him his alpha, begging him to breed him instead. And Brock fucking comforts him, pets him and gives him a kiss and tells him it’s okay. Bucky looks like he never wants to leave Brock’s side. Steve clenches his eyes shut at the sight.

“Rogers.”

Steve’s eyes open. Brock is standing right in front of him. Bucky is still hanging back, looking unsure. “You see?” Brock says, and he’s not bragging or gloating or anything. He’s just trying to get Steve to listen. “He’s used to being with me, Cap. He doesn’t know you. Now are you gonna behave if I take that gag out? Not going to upset him?”

Steve glares at Rumlow, but after a moment manages a terse nod. The gag gets removed, and Steve takes a moment to swallow the spit in his mouth, lick his lips and crack his jaw. “Thanks,” he grunts, not feeling at all thankful.

Rumlow nods, chucks the gag away. “I’m not going to let you up from that chair yet,” he tells Steve. “That I’ll do remotely, once I’m out of the room.”

Steve sneers. “What? You afraid to be alone with me?”

Brock raises his eyebrows. “First of all, I’m not alone.” He nods back to Bucky. “I’ve got him. Don’t let his role in our breeding program fool you; he’s still perfectly capable of ending a man with his bare hands. If I give him the order to, that is. Secondly, I’m not going to let you out of that chair while I’m in the room because you’re in rut. A rut that we chemically engineered to match his heat. You’re geared up to attack any alpha that comes near him.”

Steve scoffs. “I’ve got better control than you, animal.”

Brock looks back at Bucky and calls him over, but he calls him James, and that rankles Steve more than anything else yet. “Come here James,” Rumlow says. He holds out his arm and Bucky comes over obediently. “This is Steve. He’s not a big fan of mine, I’m sure you can tell.”

“Bucky,” Steve says urgently. “Bucky I’m not going to hurt you. Okay? Don’t worry.”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Bucky murmurs to Brock.

Brock glares at Steve. “I told you Cap. He doesn’t know any of that.” Brock pulls Bucky closer, encourages him to go up and touch Steve where he’s restrained to the chair. “Go ahead babe. You heard him: he won’t hurt you. Have a look at him.”

Bucky does. He inches closer until his leg hits the side of the chair. He reaches forward with careful fingers, as if Steve is a wild animal that might bite. Bucky’s eyes are cold and calculating as they pass over Steve, no recognition to them. Not like Steve wants. “He’s healthy,” Bucky murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid to say it. “Strong.” Behind, Brock chuckles a little.

“Yeah he is. Don’t worry though. He won’t be rough on you.” Brock meets Steve’s eyes over Bucky’s head. “I have it on good authority. He’s going to be real gentle.”

Bucky doesn’t react to this, and Steve feels as if he can hardly breathe as Bucky continues to examine him. He touches Steve’s arms, his legs, his chest. Steve is still clothed, but the touches ramp up the desire that the drugs have kickstarted. In his pants, he’s hard as a rock. Bucky leans down and sticks his nose into Steve’s neck, scenting at the glands there. It’s all Steve can do not to moan where he’s sitting, all he can do not to try and thrust his hips up the way his body wants to. After a long inspection, Bucky seems to make up his mind about Steve. He stands back and away, looks to Brock. “He’ll sire good pups. I understand why he’s been chosen.” He nods once to show his obedience in the matter. “I’ll complete the mission.”

Brock smiles at him. “Good boy.”

“Buck you don’t have to do anything these sacks of shit tell you to—”

“Cap,” Rumlow warns, “That ain’t the way. He WILL do what we tell him to. And if you’re resisting, he’ll take you by force. That how you want this to go?”

Steve grimaces at the threat, imagining the absurdity of Bucky raping him. “He should have a choice,” Steve tells Rumlow darkly, hating the man with every fiber of his being. “Does this make you proud?” he asks. “Treating him like a thing? Violating him?” Steve forces himself to meet Rumlow’s eyes in an imploring manner. “You said that you mated him. If that’s true, is this really what you want for him?”

Rumlow shakes his head, looks at Steve as if he’s incredibly thickheaded. “You just don’t get it, do ya Cap?” He walks over, takes a hold of Bucky’s neck and pulls him in for a deep kiss. Steve watches the display with horror, especially once Bucky brings both of his hands up to cradle Rumlow’s jaw. Brock pulls away from Bucky, their lips separating with a pop, and he glares at Steve. “This isn’t about ‘want’. It’s about following orders.” With that he pushes Bucky up to stand close to Steve, turning away before either man can stop him. “Now just shut up, lay back, and get him pregnant,” he throws over his shoulder as he walks out the door.

James tries not to feel anything when his mate leaves the room. He tries to slip back into the mindset of the Asset, a place where feelings are irrelevant. Brock has explained the parameters of the mission, has given the soldier his orders. Now James will execute. He tips his ear towards the door, his enhanced hearing helping him to pick up on the sounds of many intricate locking mechanisms being set. He flicks his gaze back up to the body of the other man—the man they’ve chosen to sire his pups.

James wants to sneer, feels like maybe he does. He shuffles uncomfortably in place, wetness already growing sticky and cool where it’s seeped into the back of his pants. He wonders if Captain Rogers can smell it. Stepping close to the chair where he’s restrained, James examines the mag cuffs that hold him in place. They’re similar to the ones that his handlers use on him. It makes James wonder just how strong this man is. Brock had said he was enhanced. He tilts his head in curiosity.

“… Bucky—”

“Directive clarification,” James calls out to the room, ignoring whatever the Captain had been about to say to him. James doesn’t wait for a response; he knows they’re being watched. “Am I to mount him like this?” he asks, not particularly caring either way. He shouldn’t care about this stranger’s comfort during the act—he’s not Brock. The soldier has his orders and James has no choice. He has to do it. A quick glance shows him what he can already smell: Captain Rogers is fully erect beneath his clothing. On the chair or in a bed, he’ll be easy enough for James to take inside of his body. But a crackle comes through the speakers in the ceiling, echoing Brock’s voice into the room:

“Use the bed if you want. He’s been chemically subdued so he shouldn’t be able to put up much a fight. Releasing mag cuffs in three, two...”

In the next second the restraints on the chair click open, and James turns back in time to see Captain Rogers pulling his arms away from the chair. He sits up, swinging his legs over the side. His bare feet touch the floor but he remains perched on the chair’s edge. For the first time, James realizes that the Captain is dressed in sleeping clothes. A standard issue tee shirt and cotton pants are all he wears. “Bucky,” he says again, holding out an arm in James’ direction. It is unclear if the gesture is meant to beckon James closer or to keep him at bay. James is not unaware that, omega or not, he presents a threatening image to most men. With this in mind he narrows his stance, draws his shoulders down to seem as small and nonthreatening as possible. Hopefully this will keep the Captain from trying to do something as counterproductive as running, or fighting.

“I realize you don’t recognize me, but don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you. My name’s Steve.

James blinks at him. He takes stock of the situation. Captain Rogers—Steve—has been made aware of his role in the breeding program. He’s been given his orders just like James has, but he’s resisting. James can smell it on him, the warring scents of desire and disgust. James steps closer, tilting his head to the side once he’s just in front of him. “Smell that?” he asks, being sure to keep his eyes cast down. The Captain’s hands are clenched tightly by his sides as James bares his neck in a submissive gesture. “Come on,” he says as gently as he can. “Alpha?”

“Don’t,” Steve bites out. He sounds pained. “Don’t call me that Buck.”

James bites his cheek, thinking he may just have to use physical force if this man won’t listen. “You’re in forced rut,” he says, trying again. “That can’t feel good.”

Steve huffs an abortive laugh. “Yeah.”

“You’re flushed,” James tells him. There is perspiration all along the collar of Steve’s tee. “And you’re hot. Burning-up-inside hot. Believe me I know how it feels. When you’re so desperate that you’re miserable?” He reaches for the hem of his own shirt, pulls it quickly over his head. He knows that the movement makes his scent burst into the air. Now his top half is exposed and James has to hold in the sigh that wants to come at the relief of having that much less clothing on his body. He tosses his shirt aside. In front of him, Steve’s nostrils are flaring. “It doesn’t have to be like that,” he tells him, “You can have me. It’ll help.”

Steve’s fingers sink into the chair’s cushion, little bits of foam padding ripping out and falling to the floor. His scent is soaring—a deep, rich scent like copper and burnt wood. James grits his teeth at the sudden urge to drop and present. He slowly reaches out with his flesh hand and touches Steve’s thigh. “Why are you afraid?” he asks. It’d be nice to know. Everyone always seems to know more than he does…

“I can’t hurt you like this Buck. I just can’t.”

James shushes him, ignores the continued use of that nonsensical name, Bucky. “You won’t,” he soothes, pulling lightly at the fabric of Steve’s pants in an effort to get him to slide off the chair. “I’m in heat. I’m ready. It won’t hurt.”

Steve scoffs, but he does allow himself to be moved. Standing barefoot, they come eye to eye. “That’s not the kind of hurt I meant.”

James ignores the clench his heart gives as he thinks of Brock. He wonders if his alpha is watching from another room, observing them through a little camera. He hopes not. “Come here,” James says, pulling Steve forward. Steve’s hands find their way to his hips, and James feels more slick rush out of his body at the contact. He whimpers without meaning to. “Scent me,” he says, tilting his head again. He’s pressing up against Steve, their bodies connected from thigh to chest. He can feel the alpha’s erection and he’s certain that Steve can feel his. But that hardly matters as Steve releases an answering growl somewhere in his throat. His head dips down and he buries his nose in the crook of James’ neck. James’ breath leaves him in a satisfied puff. He’s been in heat for nearly twenty-four hours with no relief until now. He’d been expecting Brock, his mate, but the mission has changed.

His body has already decided for him, he realizes. It doesn’t matter that this isn’t Brock. Doesn’t matter that it’s a stranger who’s been selected to put pups in him. James’ body recognizes this Steve for what he is; a strong, virile alpha.

The Asset grabs Steve with his metal hand, pushing him towards the bed before the other man can protest.

Steve stumbles over his own feet, not having been prepared for the rough grab and push of Bucky’s metal arm. He falls gracelessly back onto the room’s bed with a grunt. Bucky doesn’t give him time to recover. He’s there in a flash, one hand planted in the center of Steve’s chest and the other yanking down his pants. Bucky tosses them to the floor and reaches for Steve’s shirt. But Steve isn’t having it. He grabs Bucky’s arms and attempts to fight him. They grapple for all of three seconds before Bucky has him pinned, and Steve is panting furiously. The drugs make him so much weaker than before. With Bucky’s metal arm in play he doesn’t stand a chance. Begging is all he’s got left, it seems. “Please,” he says, staring imploringly. “You don’t want to do this.”

Bucky ignores him completely. He rips Steve’s tee shirt down the front like it’s paper, pulls it off of him and throws it somewhere in the general vicinity of where the pants had gone. Leaning forward over Steve’s now-naked body, he gives a very un-omega like growl. “Stay down.” He stands up and divests himself of the boots he’s wearing, then his pants.

Of course Steve doesn’t listen. He manages to prop himself up by the time Bucky’s taking his underwear off, and the scent that hits Steve then is so strong it makes him clench his eyes shut. “Fuck.” He can’t look at Bucky, he can’t or he’ll lose his shit. The bed dips and Steve jerks as Bucky pulls him to lie down again, too much naked skin pressed up along his own. “Bucky, don’t—” He’s cut off by lips crashing down on his own. Bucky wastes no time in forcing his way, mouthing and biting at Steve to make him open up. His hands pull at Steve’s hair and he fucks his tongue lewdly into his mouth. A garbled noise that probably would have been a moan had it been allowed to form leaves Steve, his hands grabbing the first part of Bucky they can find—his hips. Steve pulls on Bucky, whether to bring him closer or push him away he’s not sure, but he winds up tugging the other man fully atop him, and the second Steve feels him start rolling his hips downwards, he’s lost.

Bucky breaks the kiss, pulling away. Steve opens his eyes to see the omega staring at him, eyes a hard grey. He’s still fucking downwards, rubbing himself off against the crest of Steve’s groin, and his breath has become harsh. “This is our mission,” he breathes, sounding rough and desperate. “We have to. You have to.”

Steve feels sickness rise up and mingle with the desperation of his rut again. “No.”

“Yes.”

Steve repeats the ‘no’ several times more as Bucky continues to writhe against him, but his hands don’t loosen their hold on Bucky’s hips, and he doesn’t try to push Bucky off of him. “I can’t.”

Bucky makes an angry sound in his throat and yanks Steve’s head back with the grip he has on his hair. It’s his metal hand and it hurts. “You don’t have a choice,” he says. Steve growls at the dominant gesture, his hindbrain urging him to put the omega in his place. But Bucky leans closer again. For a second Steve thinks he’s going to kiss him, but he doesn’t. He puts his lips to Steve’s ear, the dark length of his hair falling around them. “Don’t make me take it,” he whispers, sounding desperate. His hips have not stopped moving. “Please. Alpha. You’re supposed to give it to me. Take me. Don’t make me do it.”

Steve groans. There’s nothing worse that Bucky could have said. He’s in heat, and Steve’s in rut, and now he’s calling Steve Alpha and begging Steve to mate with him the way that he wants it; to take him the way an alpha should take their omega. Steve opens his eyes to find Bucky staring at him once again, only this time his eyes are soft and his brow is pinched—pleading. He looks more like the Bucky that Steve remembers, and Steve can’t ignore the urge within himself to make that pleading look go away, to satisfy.

He flips them over. The only reason he’s able to do it is because he takes Bucky completely by surprise. Bucky’s eyes go wide for a moment, assessing a threat, before he realizes the move for what it is and he relaxes and purrs. Steve doubts himself immediately. He brings his hands to Bucky’s face, pleased when he’s not pushed away and Bucky fucking bends his neck to expose himself. “Alpha,” Bucky whines, but Steve’s not having it.

“You listen to me,” he says angrily, using the last goddamn piece of himself that he has left to convey seriousness in his tone. Bucky stares at him obediently and Steve swallows. “They don’t wipe my memory, got it? You may not remember me, but I remember you. And I won’t hurt you. I hurt you, you have to tell me. If you want to stop, you tell me. Got it?”

James frowns, even in his lust-ridden brain he knows he does. This stranger—no, some distant and unreachable part of his mind corrects, not a stranger—Steve—is referencing the wipes, is telling him that they’ve met before. James can’t disprove such a claim. He wonders if this Captain Rogers was once his handler, or possibly a target. He wonders if “Bucky” was his call sign then. Steve is still staring intently at him, waiting for his answer, and James shakes his head to get the thoughts to go away. They’re not important, not relevant to the mission. If his promise is all the Captain needs, then it means nothing to James to give it. “You won’t hurt me,” he says again, thinking that the alpha above him is stupid to imagine that he could, but adds, “I’ll tell you if you do.”

That seems to settle it for Steve. He comes down and kisses James’ forehead, leaves his lips to linger there in a manner that makes James distinctly uncomfortable—as if they are old friends, or family even. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Turn over.”

James flips, never having obeyed an order so quickly. He tries to push himself up to present but with Steve’s heavy weight at his back he can’t do it. Behind, he can feel the alpha’s hardness pressing between his cheeks and it makes him whine needily. This may be a mission, but he’s still been left wanting and unfulfilled for close to going on twenty four hours now. There are no feelings of doubt or discontent with the situation that James needs to force down to be a good soldier. He’s allowed to want this, and he does. “Alpha,” he urges when Steve doesn’t move to penetrate him. “Please. Now, please.”

He can feel the exact moment when Steve gives in. His hands are clamped tightly on James’ wrists to keep him still, but when James nearly begs to be fucked it seems to push the alpha off whatever edge of hesitance he’s still managing to hang onto. James can feel Steve’s cock on his ass as he allows himself to thrust at last. The teasing slide is made easier by the slick that’s gathered there. James groans in frustration, rubbing his face into the bed and fairly suffocating himself as he waits for the other man to get on with it and get inside of him. He’s aching for it, for the stretch and pressure of an alpha’s cock, for a knot. He knows he’ll start yelling in a moment if Steve doesn’t DO SOMETHING.

But he does, and James doesn’t have to yell at him after all. Steve presses up onto his arms, the sweaty warmth of his chest leaving James’ back. He positions himself, bumping against James’ hole, and it’s a relief that he forgoes the unnecessary gesture of using fingers first—James is sure he would snap at him if he tried. Steve presses inside, entering him slowly but never stopping until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with James’ ass. It’s not hard to take him in. James’ body is slick and ready for it and he groans lowly into the bed at the sheer relief of it. “Yesss,” he hisses, and turns his head as much as he can to look back at Steve. The man looks about as gone for it as James feels, and a dark thrill shoots through him at the thought that he’s about to be taken just the way he wants to be. Fucked and bred just the way his body is crying out for. It may not be Brock, but James has decided not to think about that. All he can think about in his current state is Steve; the smell of him, the feel of him, even the sounds he makes, it all feels too perfectly satisfying. Maybe it has something to do with the barrage of drugs the techs had shot him up with yesterday. Maybe. He’s not supposed to care though, and he doesn’t. He tries to thrust his hips backwards, wanting movement and having no idea how the other man can bear to hold so still now that they’re connected. There’s nowhere to go with Steve pinning him down at the hips, but he knows the Alpha feels him squirming, recognizes it for the request that it is. “Move,” James says, sounding more demanding than a good omega should. “God just…”

Steve has a hand in his hair and his nose in his neck before James can finish the sentence. A very low growl, almost a feeling more than a sound, is coming out steadily from his chest. It makes goosebumps break out on James’ arms. “Are you telling me what to do?” Steve asks.

Against the bed, Bucky’s mouth splits in a smug grin. This is what he wanted, what Brock would’ve done. At the height of his heats, all the asset wants, all James wants, is to be taken. To be held down and owned. James strains to look back over his shoulder. The angle is awkward but he ignores it, fixing Steve with what he hopes is a challenging stare. If he has to goad the alpha into a more feral headspace to get things done, then by god that’s exactly what he’ll do. “I came here to get fucked, so yeah, I am. Move,” he bites out, hoping that it will spur Steve into action. It does. He pulls out, ignoring James’ cry of protest. His big hands slide down to his hips and he gets onto his knees behind him. James follows, pressing back and presenting. He can feel Steve’s hands pulling him apart, baring his hole. There is silence and James knows without having to look that Steve is just staring at him. The thought of it makes him shudder. He presses his face into the bedding and whines.

“God,” Steve exclaims softly, dragging a thumb across his leaking hole. “You’re soaked.”

James cannot stop whining low, needy omega sounds. Then he feels the blunt head of Steve’s cock at his entrance and he moans. “Yes,” he hisses, though it’s muffled against the sheets. He presses his ass back harder, and that causes Steve to pop inside of him. The alpha grunts in surprise, but then he’s right back to thrusting, this time faster. Just as deep though, and god, if that isn’t exactly what James wants. “Oh, hugn—oh!” The noises he’s making are obscene but James hardly notices. They seem to drive Steve on, his hips slapping harder each time he moans particularly loud.

It goes on like this until James reaches for his own cock. He only gets a couple of strokes in before Steve is knocking his hand away. James cries out indignantly but then Steve pulls out, flips him over and pushes right back in. He wraps his hand around James’ cock, hips working at the same pace as his hand. He’s staring down at James with a burning intensity, breath heavy with his efforts. “Mine,” he growls, giving a calculated twist on the upstroke.

James’ eyes roll back in his head. “Ugh, fuuck.” It’s incredible and nothing he’s used to. No alpha has ever done this for him before, always leaving it to him to take care of. He can hardly thrust into the grip very well when he’s being fucked as hard as he is, but damn if he doesn’t try. “Please,” he groans, grappling at Steve’s shoulders for something to hold onto. He hardly knows what he’s asking for. The alpha is sweaty above him and James’ hands glide over the muscles in his back. “Please, Steve,”

Steve’s eyes shoot to his at the use of his name. Something raw and more intense than what they’re doing now passes through them, and before James knows what’s happening he’s being kissed. It’s not gentle. It’s plying, and insistent, and needy. God, is it needy. Steve is kissing him like it’s the answer to something and all James can do is go along for the ride.

“Bucky,” Steve is grunting at him when he finally parts enough to speak. James knows he’s speaking to him, so he opens his eyes to the nonsensical name. He doesn’t really care what this man calls him, so long as he never stops. “Buck I’m gonna,” Steve tells him, brow sweaty and pinched. “I have to.”

James groans, feeling how true the alpha’s words are. His knot is growing, tugging more insistently with every thrust. When it feels like Steve might pull away at the last second, James wraps his arms and legs around him in a fierce hold. “No,” he begs. “Inside me. I need it.” He’s not thinking even a little bit about the mission now, only the ache inside him. It’s an ache only a knot will fix, and he whimpers this to Steve as he holds him. “Knot me. Alpha, please. Want to feel it. Fill me up. Breed me.”

Steve makes a filthy sound and shoves forward, groaning long and low into James’ ear. His knot catches, fully blown as he climaxes. His hand has stopped moving over James’ cock but it hardly matters now. He’s rocking his hips shallowly, pulling his knot taut against James’ rim, pulsating it over his prostate again and again and again. James doesn’t need anything else to make him come spectacularly.

“Why do you torture yourself like this?”

Brock doesn’t turn around from the observation window. He figures Rollins is just here to taunt him anyway. “Nobody asked you to come in here,” he says quietly, attention still fixed on the pair in the next room.

“Yeah well…” Rollins comes up and stands right next to Brock, eyes taking in the same sight. “I was curious.” When Brock says nothing, he adds, “Looks like they’re finished.”

Brock scoffs and turns abruptly from the window, putting his back to it. “They’re not fucking finished.” Idiot, he wants to add. He scrubs his hands over his face and it occurs to him that he needs to shave. “That was just round one.” Brock doesn’t know about Rogers, but he is intimately familiar with his own omega’s stamina during a heat. “They’ll be in there for a good two days at least.”

“And you’re just going to stand here and watch?” Rollins rolls his eyes. “Stupid.”

“I can’t do anything else,” Brock snaps, irritated at his friend. “You’ve never been bonded. You wouldn’t understand.”

“No?”

“No.” He sighs. “You think what? It’s just jealousy?” He shakes his head. “I could handle that. But this… It’s like a physical ache.” He turns slightly to glance through the window again, thinks better of it, and turns back around. “Can’t stand it.”

“Can’t do anything to change it.” Rollins points out. “You never should’ve gotten so close. He’s just a thing, and at the end of the day he’s Hydra’s thing, not yours.”

“Yeah.” Brock really doesn’t have it in him to argue that point. He wants to, but he doesn’t. It isn’t like he doesn’t wish he could set the poor SOB free. But that’s never going to happen, and playing house with his bonded for the last six months has just been wishful thinking. “They still going at it?” he asks, unwilling to turn around and look again. He wasn’t exactly getting off on the sight before.

Rollins looks. “Naw. Resting.”

Brock grits his teeth, can’t keep the image of that goddamn super soldier, tied to his mate, out of his head.

“You think it’ll take?”

“Christ Rollins, you just don’t quit. Of course it will.” Pretty soon he’ll have to see the soldier, heavy with a litter of his pups. He hates it. Hates it more than anything.

Rollins shrugs and claps a hand onto Brock’s shoulder. “Don’t stay in here.” Another glance back. “He’s obviously not going to hurt ‘im. Leave them to it. Come and have a drink with me.”

Brock looks at Rollins then and really considers him. He calls him his friend, but the truth is the two of them are just the same as the Winter Soldier—property of Hydra. It’s taken years for him to realize it, but it’s true. Still, Rollins is offering him a drink now, and even more than that, a temporary escape. It’s the closest thing to friendly Brock’s ever gotten from the other man, and he figures it’s the best he’s going to get for a while. He might as well go. Because Rollins is right; he never should have gotten so close.

Brock sighs and nods at Rollins. Tells him, “Yeah. Yeah I think I will.”

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vviolynn · 7 months

Text

A Difference

a/n - I had a random boost of inspiration and I’ve been wanting to post something for the longest time… so I’m just gonna say that I wrote this small bit within a span of like 2 days but less than an hour each time I came back to it. I hope this gives you guys an idea of what my writing is like, and ty in advance for reading <3 {ps - the fic I'm working on outside of this isn't as detailed as this... i just poured my creativity on this one, especially because it's way shorter.}

word count - 1.1k

• the winter soldier x hydra soldier!fem!reader •

warnings - mentions of killing and assassins, no use of y/n, the winter soldier being the winter soldier, angst?, use of russian words(translation given), no real romance... yet, ends with a cliffhanger of sorts

•••••••••••••••••••••

A soldier, or two? One super, one ordinary. One chose, one forced. One assassin. Two assassins. One woman, one machine. Two lives, paths crossed in a horrifying way. A killer, a killing machine. A life spent, a life taken. One free, one brainwashed. One skilled, one programmed. Two eyes met, two souls connected. One soldier, two soldiers.

She’s a soldier, ordinary, human. She chose her place. She chose Hydra. She grew up with one of their leaders. She chose this life. She chose when she was a young woman. She’s spent your life working for Hydra, willingly. She had the option to leave, yet she remained loyal. Hydra was a home to her. Hydra is a home to a strong willed woman. She spent her childhood and opening of womanhood training for the day she’d live her dream: to fight for her country. She’s skilled.

And yet… another life is placed into hers. The moment that second life awoke, eyes met, locked. For the first time, she wanted more than to serve Hydra. The eyes she met were the eyes of a programmed soul. He wasn’t free. He was brainwashed. His life wasn’t spent, it was taken. Years of his life, asleep, years of his life, stolen. A killing machine. That’s what he was. He was one made to kill, programmed for murder. It was a thought that could bring shivers down one’s spine. A machine, they say. He belonged to Hydra, and Hydra made him. It felt cruel. He was only the assassin they made him to be, how could there be a human behind that cold gaze? Forced… he was forced, and it was wrong. She could see it, even after your years spent with Hydra, she’s never witnessed such a thing. A super soldier? She would’ve killed to be like him.

That’s the thing, she would’ve killed to be like him. The problem was, she’s not him. Two soldiers, but there’s still a difference. A manner of choice. He was not given that choice. She could only wonder why.

•••••••••••••••••••••

Behind the facade, there was always a softness.

“Good morning soldat,” she greets him with a stern voice, but beneath her tone is a form of gentleness. The Winter Soldier looks down at the woman with this icy blues, and similar to her tone, he too had a gentleness buried underneath his gaze.

The soldier gives her a short nod as to address her, not speaking. She doesn’t appreciate his lack of words.

“Apologies, I said… good morning soldat,” the respected woman speaks again, she emphasizes her tone to a slight harsher one. The soldier’s gaze remains the same, unfazed.

“Good morning уважаемый,” the soldier nods again, and refers to her as ‘respected one’.

She gives him a nod back, seemingly satisfied with his reply. She almost smiles. She never smiles, at least not with other soldiers. Being in Hydra for a little over ten years gives her authority. Having grown up with one of the colonels put her as second in command. She has experience.

She knows she should treat the soldier like he isn’t human, but he is. In her eyes, he’s a tortured soul. She can see it, she has the ability to see past the glare. Why? because she knows how to spot a difference.

“Mission report,” she requests as she keeps her hands behind her back. Her head is tilted up in the slightest to keep eye contact. Their eyes lock, two soldiers.

“Negative,” he replies, and it’s his turn to give her a firmer voice. Her eyebrows furrow with the way that he speaks to her, as well as his response.

“On who’s orders?” the woman nearly growls. She always knew and was informed of the Winter Soldier’s missions. She usually asked only to report back to the colonel, it’s supposedly just a simple and daily task. It was also one of the only interactions she’d have with the fellow assassin.

“Твой начальник,” the firm voice remains, it feels like his programming showing it’s hold on him. Her eyes narrow in a small glare at how he says ‘your superior(boss)’. Why would her friend be keeping the soldier’s mission a secret from her?

Her voice is gone, stripped from her. She would never admit how vulnerable she feels right now. It created a storm within; a rage. The temptation to walk away and destroy everything in her path was strong. She stands her ground, glaring at the soldier in silence.

The soldier finds her silent response amusing in a way. He continues to look right back at her, his eyes gleaming at the entertainment.

The second in command knew she couldn’t be mad at the Winter Soldier, it was her ‘superior’, and her supposed childhood friend who was defying her. Acknowledging this allows her to calm down slowly, along with the beauty of the soldier’s eyes, the steel eyes that stuns any enemy he comes across. The soldier is an anchor to her, even though neither of them have acknowledged that yet.

Her demeanor shifts, right before his eyes. She calms, and her breathing steadies. She’s been trained to keep her emotions in check, especially if she’s a superior to most soldiers in Hydra. Although she’d never admit it, his presence just makes it a whole lot easier.

“I see,” her words finally form, and her voice comes out as quiet but strong. She wants to leave to go confront her ‘friend’ but there’s something that keeps her feet stuck to the ground. It’s almost like a magnetic pull. Her eyes haven’t left the soldiers for the whole duration of the conversation. Her body hasn’t moved an inch. Her hands haven’t left their hold on themselves behind her back. Besides her facial expressions, she hasn’t physically shifted in any way.

There are several moments of silence, all that can be heard is their soft breaths, and blinking eyes. The atmosphere remains thick, heavy, and suffocating. Both observe how their breaths match each other’s, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. A safe distance is kept between the two soldiers, but it still feels like there isn’t enough. Either that, or there’s too much. Neither of them can tell which it is.

They’re two magnets, and destiny is playing with them and their sides. It’s trying to decide whether to pull them apart, or pull them together. Stir hatred and disgust, and create distance? Or make it so once they touch, they can’t remove themselves from each other? An undying question.

Neither their hearts nor minds could comprehend a choice. To hate or to love? It’s hard for the two soldiers, especially when there’s such a difference.

•••••••••••••••••••••

#the winter soldier #tws #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x fem!reader #the winter soldier x hydra soldier!fem!reader #the winter soldier angst #bucky barnes x reader #b.b.#bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #j.b.b.#vviolynn writes #vviolynn fics

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ourghoststories · 8 days

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Apologies [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

"James, seriously! We're gonna get married and you can't stop getting in harm's way, you said the Winter Sol- White Wolf thing was in your past. I'm not saying you can't do anything, save the day, go chase after who you want, but please just think about how much danger you're putting yourself in and the repercussions. The government are already monitoring you closely. I don't want them to hurt you, like that flag-smasher chick or Zemo- what if they'd decided you're next?" I rambled anxiously.

"Zemo doesn't like super soldiers Buck, I don't trust him and even though you did everything right, doesn't mean he won't decide to target you, or us. I'm much more concerned about you".

"(Printcessa) принцесса, I love you but I can't do this... I need to keep going, the nightmares only lessen when I do it. I promise I won't get into stuff that doesn't involve me but I need to work through my book, I have my demons and you have yours" he said glaringly, taking a tone of frustration and concern, before letting the signature frown plaster his features.

"I can't do this either Bucky, maybe we should have a break" I sniffled.

I was out driving and I couldn't stop thinking about it, Bucky and I had an argument and this time it was bad.

Leaving was the only thing I could think of doing after we had the conversation, I cared about him more than anyone knew, even Bucky.

He had gotten back after everything happened with Zemo and I had no idea what was happening, he did everything by the books, despite charging into the situation most times with impulse taking over.

I loved him but I was so unsure about this, that's why we argued, Sharon was the Power Broker and had sustained injuries and it was so close to being him.

Plus I didn't like Sharon hanging around Bucky, I knew she didn't have any intentions but she killed someone without hesitation and James really didn't like that, either did Sam.

He would be steadfast and run into situations and come back to me and I'd have to deal with the injuries, the repercussions and damage, time after time and it never stopped, it was getting exponentially worse and that's why I cared, I cared because I loved him and he didn't seem to get it... Or more like he did but was being too stubborn to realise.

Even Sam was telling him to be careful to no avail, he wasn't always this brash, when Steve passed, he didn't know what to do anymore, he was lost and therefore I too, was lost- I hated seeing Bucky this way and nothing was helping, I've been happily dealing with it but I couldn't see him hurting or getting hurt without any consideration, anymore.

I drove around for a bit aimlessly, before I decided that it had been long enough and I wasn't trying to torture him, so I headed back home, the place we owned together.

"Y/n?" He said shocked, but had a smile on his face.

"Yeah I know I've fucked up, y/n, let's talk about it inside" he said apologetically.

I followed him through the front door and into the lounge room.

"I just don't know how you can keep doing it Bucky, you know how much I love and care for you, I know it's part of you and who you are but we're an us now and I need you around... Especially if we're going to have a family" I sniffled, trying not to let tears escape my eyes.

"Y/n I know, I know baby" he said sweetly, placing his metal hand on my back and rubbing it affectionately.

"We've always gotta be prepared, I'm trying to minimise threats to us, I'm going to be more careful I promise. Everything will be okay" he sympathised.

"Okay Buck I trust you, I just get scared" I sighed as he pulled me into a big hug.

He placed a kiss on my cheek, before he took my hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly.

"I love you" he smiled gently.

"I love you too, actually i love you more" I chuckled, poking my tongue out.

"Never doll, you know that I would never let anything happen to you, and when we decide to have a family, I'm going to be more responsible because having little mini versions of you and I would be a dream " he chuckled, caressing my face gently and putting his face close to mine so he could stare straight into my eyes.

"Bucky" I smiled happily, letting out an exhale, feeling the pressure of the situation dissipate.

"Mm?" He hummed.

"I love you so much, thank you for making me feel better" I replied as he kissed my hand lovingly.

"I'll always love you and I'll always try to do better for us, never forget that y/n, you're my first priority, not Zemo or anyone else, they'll never get between us, I pinky promise" he said soothingly.

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papipopsicle · 9 months

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MERCENARY PART THREE

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Enhanced!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Summary: In which Hydra never seems to give Earth's Mightiest Heroes a break, and while dismantling every known base, they find a weapon. In which this weapon is a young woman whose known nothing but the life Hydra gave her, and a certain super soldier becomes protective of her from the first time they lock eyes. AU AWAY FROM IW&Endgame, ALSO THERE ARE X-MEN

Warnings: swearing, reference to scars

Song: Punching Bag by Palaye Royale

Words: 1.6K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

"Stark Industries and and the Wakanda Outreach programme has helped thousands of mutants and inhumans, why don't we just hand her over to them and be done with it?" Kitty Pryde mulled over the idea, rolling her eyes as the clock ticked over into the third hour of bickering.

Y/N's sedation would wear off within the next half hour and the team were still yet to come to an unanimous decision on what to do with her. She was currently fast asleep on a comfy bed inside a room which restricted the use of her powers- but she didn't know that yet.

Bucky had tried his best to remain objective, but as he watched the large monitor streaming footage from her room, he couldn't help but be reminded of the girl he watched grow up into a woman and how he'd already missed four years of her life.

"I'll monster watch tonight, James." Y/N hummed, playing with a small flame at her fingertips. She looked over her shoulder and found him watching her with worried eyes, yet she just smiled, "You haven't slept for three nights in a row now. Trust me, they'd hurt you a lot more if you fail your mission tomorrow than they will if I'm a bit grouchy. Sleep, moya lyubov."

"She'd still be a great addition to the team," Tony sighed, standing up to stretch his legs, "and by team I mean the Avengers, I don't even know why you're here quite honestly."

Kitty flipped him off before storming out, probably going to find Charles or Raven to vent to them about how much Stark pissed her off.

Natasha leant over the table, eyes not moving from the tablet in front of her, "Is she like you were, Barnes?"

Bucky tensed and looked at the redhead, "In what way?" He asked slowly.

Nat glanced over at Tony before finding the super soldier waiting for her response, "Did they manipulate her mind and create triggers that'd turn her into a murder machine? Is she at all loyal to Hydra?"

"Come on, you saw her earlier, Nat, Y/N had tried to escape that many times they had to chain her up." Steve tried to reason as he saw Bucky's flesh hand clench up.

"We should consider every possible angle though, right?" Bruce spoke up from his seat towards the back of the room, propping his glasses on his nose and taking a better look at the security footage, "She seems harmless, but-"

"She is harmless." Bucky stressed, "Sure, when you look at her file you see a genetically engineered super-assassin with elemental powers, but not one day passed without trying to escape or planning our next escape. And okay, fine, she enjoys violence, but Hydra conditioned her to be that way and she's never had anyone to tell her otherwise. At the end of the day, she's scared- and I don't want her waking up alone."

The soldier felt Steve's hand squeezing his shoulder in comfort, but it felt cold and the sentiment felt short. Bucky watched each pair of eyes fall away from his sight and their voices stayed silent. He shook off Steve's hand and left the room, making his way down to the supervisory level. He looked down at the small piece of technology in his hand, matching the number to the cell like room and entering a six digit code into the keypad from memory. A single second later it pinged and the lights turned green.

The one armed man stood in the doorway for a moment, watching Y/N's healing figure peacefully sleeping. It was a sight to behold, even in tattered clothes and a thick layer of grime and dust covering her, she was anything but a weapon. She was soft and even delicate to the eye, resting as if her mind wasn't plagued with the tortured souls from her past.

Bucky sat down on the cool wooden floor, crossing his legs like he used to at the age of eight, playing tic tac toe with a small Steven Grant Rogers. Those memories didn't feel much like his own, more at peace with the ones of war he shared with Y/N.

"Stop pulling your punches, their hands are worse than yours." Nineteen year old Y/N warned James with a sharp whisper. His flesh knuckles were scorched from her most recent attack, goaded to use her powers by the watchful handlers. Metal collided with bone and he knew on impact two ribs had fractured, a further one would bloom with bruises soon enough. Training was often more taxing than the missions themselves, bored Hydra agents pulling on puppeteer strings to ensure they put on a good show.

Y/N estimated another ninety minutes had past before her handler pulled her away for healing observations, for research rather than well-being purposes. It wasn't long until she found herself flung back into the dingy cell with a kick to the back of her knees and an expired first aid kit thrown to the ground beside her.

Once the door cranked shut, James knelt beside the stoic woman he knew was hurting so deeply within. He collected any supplies for sterilisation and allowed Y/N to collapse under his touch. She curled into his chest as he cleaned the wounds he caused, burnt knuckles stung from the movements but that was numb compared to the torment of seeing her in pain.

James was past the point of blaming himself for any injuries Y/N incurred from training and vice versa, too much of their precious time had already been taken away in arguments of how much the other was not at fault. Hydra allowed them one hour a day together, usually after training, to decompress and recover and mostly hold each other. Y/N had a knack for sneaking out of her cell to be with the super soldier, it took more time stopping her, punishing her and hauling her back than their current routine. Teamwork on missions became more efficient, so they were allowed their hour of peace unless it became a weakness.

That was when Y/N was most aware of time passing by, fingers habitually running over the rigid scars between metal and soft flesh as a reminder James was entirely real. He watched between the fire dancing in her free hand and the peace within tired features, her own eyes burning bright at his constant touch. The hour would soon be up, and there was no fight to leave each other other than the lingering fingertips as they were pulled apart.

"You cut your hair-" Y/N's gravelly voice was cut off with a harsh array of coughs, spluttering dust from her cell's destruction stuck in her lungs. She squinted at the bright sterile lighting, everything in the room intensely white with the exception of Bucky and his all black clothing sat at the bottom of her vision.

He dialled the lights down noticing Y/N's discomfort and handed her an unopened bottle of mineral water. Her eyes carefully surveyed his movements, not considering him a threat as she chugged the liquid gratefully.

"Do you like it?" He asked after a few seconds of silence had filled the air, taking a seat at the side of the mattress apprehensively. Four years had passed and although he trusted the woman he thought was dead with his life, she was indeed alive and Hydra could do a lot of damage in much less time apart. He had so many questions, so many missed touches longed for and so little worry that she was no longer his Phoenix.

Even with grime covering her from head to toe, Bucky couldn't take his eyes away from her as she scrunched her nose playfully and answered, "I'll miss your long hair, but this suits you- you look like a person."

Unlike Bucky, whose memories were fuzzy around the edges, for better or worse Y/N held all of hers. She remembered cutting his hair short for a mission the once and wishing Hydra wouldn’t let it grow out again. But seeing him this time was immaculate- he was his own human, and she looked to the dirt and disheveled clothing on her person and knew she wasn’t. Purely what she was engineered to be and not a thing more, a biological weapon owned only by Hydra.

Bucky sensed the mental downward spiral as she scanned herself, brows knitting together and tears welling threatening to fall.

He corralled her away from those cataclysmic thoughts with a cool touch to her hot fingertips, metal thumb running across the back of her hand soothingly. “It took a bit more than a hair cut, but the days I feel like a person outweigh the days I don’t. And we’ll get you there too.”

“Can I start that tomorrow?” Y/N pouted and lay against the plush pillows behind her head, content with the sounds of metal whirring against her skin that only super soldier hearing could pick up on.

The team, fewer members left in the conference room, watched the interaction from the projection. A few more words were shared before Bucky lay down beside Y/N, both infinitely still but continuing the motions on their joint hands. Steve’s chair rolled back a few inches as he eyed Tony, “Listen, I can already see Bucky following if we send her off somewhere, we’ve got to at least try re-humanising her.”

“Great, we adopted another murder machine- when the first one gets lonely, at least now he’ll have company!” Tony held his hands up in defence when Steve didn’t appreciate his humour, “Alright, Cap. We’ll observe, give it a few days and get to work on project no murder and less machine.”

part four?

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