#captain hydra x reader

[navybrat817]

Captain Hyrda and the Winter Soldier hunting you down. The one who catches you first gets to fuck your pussy. Better open up you mouth for the runner up.

[scandinavianfairytale]

And so we pray

Pairing: ex Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Tony dies in this, betrayal, plotting of a revolt, planning to over-throw the Hydra goverment

A/N: Part 1 😁

You sighed as you laid on the roof of the building that you called home and HQ for the past seven months. Laying the ground work after the epic betrayal was hard. Harder than anything you experienced as an ex-Shield agent.

Up until that moment Steve Rogers turned into Captain Hydra, right before your eyes.

Closing your eyes, you could still see that moment. As if it’s burned into your head.

Everything went exactly as planned and now the world was safe.

"We won Steve." You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him with excitement. He held you close, smiling into the kiss.

"Guys, something's wrong..." Tony's voice broke your kiss. Stepping away from Steve and coming to Tony's side, you glanced at the computer screen. The previously disabled guns were now activating again.

"How is this happening, didn't we overwrite the system?"

"We did, Steve-" The sentence was cut off when a blade pierced his abdomen. Your horrified gaze settled on Steve and for a second, time stood still as you tried to wrap your head around what was happening. Tony fell on the floor, blood pouring out of his wound and mouth, but still no words left your mouth.

"I'm sorry you had to find out this way, Doll." Steve smirked and cupped your trembling face. You blinked rapidly, flinching away from his touch, but still refusing to process what was happening.

"Y-you need to r-run." Tony stammered only to be kicked by your boyfriend.

"You're not going to run, are you? It's me. Captain America. Steve. I would never hurt you." The smile that was once so sweet turned twisted before your eyes and suddenly you were left wondering how you could've fallen for the man standing in front of you.

His hands seized you, his touch burning and you trashed in his grasp, slapping at his torso as panic enveloped your body. This was the person that set morals for the whole nation. This was the man that you put your faith into. This was Steve...the one man you trusted. And it was all a lie. A ruse. A mask for what he really was.

Captain Hydra.

Grabbing at your watch and pressing on the crown of your watch a shock fork shot out, lodging in Steve's arm. He released you as high voltage made him freeze and you stumbled away from him. You knew you only had a few seconds. Quickly glancing at Tony, you willed yourself to keep running, already knowing he was beyond saving. Running to the terrace and jumping off, you pulled on the belt loop which shot out a hook cable to keep you from falling. The second your feet touched the ground, you were sprinting away, tears burning your eyes, but you didn’t have a choice. You had to run and find a safe place to re-think and re-group.

Scowling you sat up and looked at the remnants of New York. The city you loved so dearly was now in pieces, the machine Steve took control of, destroyed everything reminding the people of the previous government and the freedom they held. You have been successfully evading your ex-boyfriend turned tyrant for months now and building your own army of like-minded individuals.

“Thought I’d find you here.” Bucky sat down next to you.

“Funny enough I wanted to enjoy what is probably one of the last calm days.” He chuckled at that.

“Never thought I’d hear you say today is one of those calm days.”

“Same, who would’ve thought that you and I would be training people to overthrow a government led by my ex-boyfriend and your ex-best friend.” You cynically laughed. Bucky’s smile turned sour too. “You know, I’m correct, right? It’ll only get tougher and harder from here.”

“I know it’ll get significantly worse before it’ll get better.” Bucky nodded. “But it has to be done.”

You sighed again. It felt like you’ve been doing that a lot these days.

“We’re almost done with the preparations. We just have to find the right time to strike.”

“The coronation.” Bucky mentioned again. He has been vocal in strategy meetings about attacking at the time of coronation, however no one agrees since everyone will be on their highest alert.

“Bucky, we discussed this. That’s probably the worst time to strike-“

“Can you just listen to me?” He interrupted annoyed and you motioned for him to continue. “Steve will not expect it, believe me. He has been on high alert in the first months after you went missing, but now I can see he is more relaxed. I think there will be more people on guard that day, but they'll not be on high alert.”

“But if it fails, we will not get another chance. You realize that, right? All we have is this one shot. And we need to be successful.”

“I know. But if you and the rest of the task force lend me an ear, I think I have an idea how to successfully overthrow him.” Looking him in the eyes, you contemplated for a moment. At the end of the day, this was Bucky. He lost much more than you did that day and the fact he has to relive his days as a fugitive is triggering to say the least.

“Okay, I’ll make them listen.” You smiled.

~Task force~

“I fail to see why we needed to convene again.” Leah rolled her eyes as she sat down.

“We have been ignoring Bucky’s voice even though we have originally agreed that all ideas will at the very least be heard.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you glared at Leah. “Besides, Bucky was one of the first members of the Task Force, before it even became the Task Force.”

“I agree. Sergeant Barnes, I’m all ears.” Maria gave a small nod.

“Okay.” Leo agreed as well and so did the rest of the members.

“Thanks everyone. I don’t mean to discard the whole plan made before, I would just have a few additional suggestions. The biggest one is that our leader is our decoy-“

“What?” Leo was immediately on his feet, Maria holding him back.

“Let him finish.”

“Indeed, I’m curious to hear, what he has to say.” You leaned back in your chair, not expecting this to be Bucky's idea.

“You wouldn’t be going in alone. I would be with you and a few others. I’m not going to lie. They will most likely be collateral damage, but at the end of the day, the original plan would result in collateral damage as well.” He paused as he took in the disbelief written on Leah’s face.

"That's literally like lambs to the slaughter." She immediately jumped in.

“Sacrifices need to be made.” Thomas replied. “But we need to be transparent and let them decide who, if anyone, wants to gamble their life.”

“I think we might have more volunteers than you think, Leah.” Leo replied. “No one wants to continue living like this.”

“That’s for sure.” Trina concurred.

“Bucky, please continue.” Maria encouraged.

“The small group would try and stage an attack at the coronation. We will be captured and they will probably kill most of us.” Pausing again, Bucky turned to you and continued. “I know Steve won’t let anyone hurt you. And I want to believe me either, but if I’m wrong, I will gladly die for the cause.”

“After you are captured, Steve will think he has won, that the rumored resistance was just now extinguished and it was smaller than warned. His guard will be completely down and that’s when the original plan comes into effect.”

The whole room was quiet as he finished, everyone cautiously looking at you and each other.

“I like your idea. I think this is a solid plan. And I think we can actually execute it sooner than we originally theorized.” You exhaled.

“But what about you? Are you sure Rogers won’t kill you?” Maria asked.

“Are we sure that everyone will be ready for the war in 17 days?” Trina asked.

“Well…the answer to both questions is we’ll see. Like Bucky said – If I do end up dying, it’s for the cause, so there’s no need to be worried about that. And for our people…we will just have to make sure they are as prepared as they possibly can be.” You sighed.

“And if they won’t be?” Leah asked annoyed.

“I don’t think we have much choice. If we wait for a better time, it might never come.”

“Let’s do the best we can. That’s what we’ve been doing for the last seven months.” Thomas suggested.

“And then what?”

“And then we pray.” Your eyes met Bucky’s, who only nodded.

---------------

Thank you for reading! :)

The GIF belongs to the amazing creator - thank you! 💙

It's been a very long time since I posted anything. 😮 I wrote so many drafts, but nothing tangible and so months passed and I published nothing. I disliked this period of writer's block :( But I was driving home one day and I heard the latest song by Coldplay - We pray and I had this image in my head. And here we are 😁🙌✨

I do hope you enjoyed the story, it'll have a second part (at some point 😁✨)

But until then, I hope you'll be okay 🍀

[georgiapeach30513]

Moodboard

Captain Hydra, Yandere au, Dark theme, daddy kink 😳 trapped together fanfic trope.

I'm gonna love this 😏

The way I was frothing at the mouth!! I don’t know why I have never written Captain Hydra and this couldn’t have been a better spin for him!

You evaded him. Again. This constant game was being played of him getting closer to you before you were ripped from his grasp. Again. He won’t miss this time you sly little fox. Your scent is etched in his brain more than anything else in the world. He won’t let his handlers stop him. He will have you. And he will make sure you stay put. You are his…

[altagraye]

Through A Glass, Darkly Part 6- Stay

TW:

MINORS DNI ! (18+ ONLY!)

Violence, Mild sexual themes, sexual suggestive thoughts (cuz Rumlow is a bastard!), experimentation without consent.

Through a Glass Darkly part 6: Stay

An American HYDRA base

Somewhere within The 100- Mile wilderness, Maine

2024, around July

52 hours after y/n’s capture

Sleep was possibly the only escape from that hellish place. But if you weren’t awake, you’d miss time with Winter. He insisted you get rest, so you couldn’t deny him. The scratchy wool blanket and one pillow provided out of the goodness of HYDRA’s heart could take the edge off. It was cold down where you were. 

You didn’t know how far down you were, but you imagine it was something like Alcatraz on steroids. You woke from your slumber just briefly, to find that Winter had crawled in with you.

His warm skin, close to yours. He was the only peace you had in this place, a kind of solace if you will. And it was probably the same for him. You snuggled into him, nestling in like two puzzle pieces. You felt so safe with him and you were glad that he was letting himself get close to you. 

He deserved to be loved a million times over. You didn’t dream this time, but instead you lost yourself in the warmth of having someone you cared about next to you. It was a kind of intimacy only shared between lovers.

Just like anything within these barren walls, your peace was short lived. You were physically taken out of bed, by Rumlow. Dragged from your warm space so quickly, you hardly had time to know what was going on. Winter was quick to assess the situation. Rumlow kept his palm with a bruising grip over your mouth. 

“Shhhhh. Little girl. Time for a check up.” Rumlow said sinister, and licking the shell of your ear. Winter had gone feral, in no time. 

Winter punched the other guard square in the face with his flesh hand. A sickening sound of bone crunching and blood trickling down from the man's face. Winter was desperate. He raised the guard up by his neck this time with his metallic arm. Gripping tightly on his windpipe. 

"Don't think I won't snap his neck, faster than you can blink!" Winter threatened.  You struggled against Rumlows’ grip. 

"You sure about that? Wanna watch her bleed out? Your little fuck toy. I bet you'd screw her even when she's cold 'n' grey." Rumlow egged on wielding a sharp knife against your throat. Feeling the sting of the sharp metal slicing your tender skin. 

You started to sob, you knew how serious the situation was. Realizing any second could be your last. HYDRA could very easily kill you, after all you were just a means of entertainment for their weapon. For Winter, something he could have to pass the time by with. You were replaceable. And that terrified both you and Winter. 

Winter was at a crossroads, he knew Rumlow would leap at the chance to kill you. Anything to see a little more suffering, that’s what Rumlow really got off on. Seeing people hurt as if they deserved terrible fates. Rumlow tightened his grip on you, but took something out of one of the pockets on his tactical suit. Uncapping the object with his teeth and spitting it onto the floor of the pen, that Winter and you called home. Before you had time to react, you flashed a look to Winter. You knew well that his hands were tied. But if anything were to happen to you, whatever they were going to do next, you wanted to look at Winter one last time. Staring back at you, you saw pain. But maybe Winter himself didn’t know how to feel about this emotion.

The needle plunged deep into your jugular, and before the stopper could empty its contents, your eyes were fluttering shut.

Your head lolled drunkenly from side to side as you were being trudged through a maze of hallways and corridors. Various beeping sounds, of places off limits to you, doors opening to deeper destinations of horror passed you by. It was impossible to try and map yourself out of this. You could probably take more than a few punches, get your way out of wherever they were sending you. But you’d be lost. 

Suddenly, your head thrashed back, hitting a flimsy excuse for a pillow, with credible force. Your vision is accosted by bright white lights. And you were lifted into the air, on this sort of table. A girl, who couldn't have been above the age of 10, slipped through the door. Her hair was a beautiful shade of chestnut brown that fell somewhere around her waist. Her eyes, for a brief moment, seemed as if they were examining you. Oddly you didn’t mind. It was peaceful to be around this. Child. But how did she get here? It was as if you were looking into the eyes of a divine being.

A blonde woman quickly came to her side, “Don’t run from me ever again!” she scolded the girl sternly. The woman’s eyes jutting to your own, in a hauntingly knowing kind of way. 

“But, I wanted to see the subject. Is she sick?” the girl asked, still looking at what you assumed was her mother. The woman led the girl away from you and toward the door of the dingy operating room, her grip tight on the arm of the child. You wanted to speak, maybe they could get you out of here, some help maybe? Or they could relay a message to Bucky, or Nat and Sam? Hell, anybody. 

“Yes! She’s terribly sick. The world’s finest doctors are going to help her.” The woman said, as she hurriedly rushed the girl away from the room, closing the door with  a loud click. Doctors? I’m not sick. You thought. But it was hard to formulate much of anything in your state. 

 More people you didn’t recognize came into the room. Preparing tools and machines for some kind of procedure. Shit! What are they going to do to me?! You thought.  You tried to get up from your bed, but your head was pounding against your skull. Like you’d had the worst hangover you’ve ever had. Some nurses tied your limbs taught with straps to the metal table. You struggled, but gave up just as quickly. Your hands formed fists as you began to hyperventilate. You needed your powers back. 

You need to be able to defend yourself, now more than ever. Whatever HYDRA put in you, had been successful in weakening your powers. You tensed, trying to get those sparks to fly. But they fizzled out. You opened your eyes, the blinding lights of the operating room still ahead. One more time. You can get Winter free from this place, if only you had your fire! Out of the corner of your eye, sensing movement from your right, you saw Alexander Pierce come into the room. You clenched your jaw. 

Seeing him made rage boil within you. At what he’d done to Winter for so long. Pierce noticed your disgust you had for him. Boldly without trepidation, he hovered over you. He looked into your eyes, and you steadied your gaze. You weren’t going to let him take advantage of you, if you could help it. Pierce’s eyes tightened, the challenge he saw in you, made him livid. A sharp pain struck your cheek. A slap? What was that going to do now? You’ve already been beaten, and thrown into a cage, what else could he possibly do to you?

“(Zimnyaya roza) Зимняя роза*, I own you. Start the procedure!!” he announced to everyone inside the room.      *Winter Rose 

You began to lift yourself up, anything to resist what they were going to do to you. But you hadn’t realized you were already restrained. You tried your fire again. However, you only gave off cobalt colored sparks. Pierce had an odd look on his face. Almost as if he was surprised, and oddly hopeful. But for what exactly? Yet another needle found its way into your veins. Your vision going blurry, changing from white, to grey, to nothing but black. 

You were terrified. Your heart was pumping nearly out of your chest. Unable to see anything, or speak, or even aware of where you were. Was this it? Had they killed you? What was next for you if you had truly died? Was there really anything on the other side? You felt cold, like you were drenched in water and exposed to flowing air. You felt your torso shoot up from where you were. Your eyes flying open, your lungs filling rapidly with breath. You were alive, this time.

A scream, more like a wail, left your throat. Darkness was all around you, everything inside you was pure and animalistic, fear. Until his blue appeared in your sights. His sweet, sweet everlasting blue. You never wanted to cry, especially in front of anyone. You usually cried alone, before solidifying yourself and continuing on. But this time your emotions were so raw, the tears just flooded over.

“Winter!” you exclaimed, noticing how you were trembling, Winter held you close, only with his flesh arm. He never felt comfortable letting his left arm touch you. Out of fear it may corrupt you. His kind gesture somehow made you break down further. Beginning to sob hysterically in his hold. 

He cupped your cheek, his palm rough and calloused. He shushed you gently, his forehead touching your own. “It’s over. It’s over. I’m here. Mo Thaisce, I’m here. They can’t hurt you.” he repeated until you started to regain yourself.

You were back in your cell, with Winter. But you knew what had happened to you was no dream. It was real. But you had no clue what they’d done to you. He rocked you gently for a few minutes until you both had ended up laying flat on the mattress. It was all so confusing and terrifying. As if they’d erased your memory of what they’d done. You never want to go back to that room again. 

And that would mean you must be on your best behavior, no retaliation. Only complete compliance was acceptable. Your memory was jumbled and hazy at best. For right now you could only remember and focus on Winter.  

Once Winter noticed you had calmed down, he shifted, wanting to sit in his normal spot, out of the stingy excuse for the bed, and onto the cold concrete of the cell floor. You’d stopped him, grabbing onto his metal arm. This caught him off guard. To your surprise he flinched, as if he expected something terrible to happen to you once you touched him.

“Please… Stay,” you managed to croak out, your voice raw. Winter gawked at you in the faint light of the cell, the only light available during ‘sleeping’ hours came from the recording cameras. Winter swallowed thickly, his brow furrowing. With some weariness, Winter stayed. Holding you close to his burly form, his fingers intertwining into your silken locks. He didn’t want you to feel pain. Not from this wretched place. Winter didn’t sleep even though he was commanded to do so. He rarely broke protocol, he’d learned his lesson far too long ago for breaking the rules. But, he could not resist watching over her until she slept, warm and frail in his hold.

In this moment, Winter vowed to always protect this echo of a woman he had once loved. Was it perhaps a sick form of gratification? Redemption? Atonement? Possibly. Yes, quite possibly.

Sharp protests from the doors hinges were what woke you next. It almost made you cry. You didn’t want anything to do with these vile people. Winter was already awake, maybe he hadn’t slept at all. He watched every move from the two guards. Rumlow was not present this time. However, that didn’t make the situation any less nerve-wracking.

“Relax Cujo. Your whore needs to get dressed. It’s mission day.” one of the guards said as he crouched down to Winter’s level. The other guard gave you a dress, among other fancy garb for you to wear. You’d armed yourself with the small knives they’d given you. 

Stuffing them in any place that was concealed, a short knife fitting in the heel of your dress shoe. As usual, they’d blindfolded the both of you. Not knowing where you were going only added a new level to this macabre circus act. You and Winter were stuffed in some sort of plane, a Quinjet maybe? From what you could hear there were a fair amount of other operatives in the plane with you. A small HYDRA execution team.

Your job still remains the same. Keep eyes on the target, Be in communication with Winter. Don’t get yourself killed. In and out. Smooth, no flukes. Like a well programmed machine. Rumlows voice came as a surprise to you from inside the cabin. 

“Today’s target is high profile. Dangerous, so don’t do anything stupid that’ll get you killed. Alright princess? The op team will have 6 people in it. Soldat, Princess, Me, and the three of you . The target has powers over time. They can bend it at will. So stay sharp.” Rumlow informed us.

Time? Like the Time stone? Are we going to be executing Dr. Strange? You nodded your head to let him know you heard him. You remember fighting alongside him and Wong during the infinity war. They were quite powerful. There’s no way we can execute him. He’ll just keep rewinding us. Shit! I’m going into a sorcerer fight with toothpicks!

Your throat began to dry up, and you swallowed thickly. You had no idea how you were going to get through this one. 

“You alright Y/N?” Winter asked through the comm system in your ear piece. You chewed on your lip as you entered the building, beads of sweat forming on the back of your neck.

“I could be better. This mission. It’s not going to be easy.” you replied.

“No mission is easy. But you can get close to the target. I’m not far away. I–” his sentence was cut short.

Leaning into your ear piece just outside the building, as you waited in line to enter, “Winter?!” more desperation coating his name than you’d like to reveal.

“I’m fine. I just got rid of the people on the roof. Don’t worry so much, Mo Thaisce.” 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Get a room,  you two! Oh, wait you do have one. Guess you’re camera shy huh Princess? Afraid to show us some skin?” Rumlow came over the comm system.

“I really want to burn your tongue out from your skull.” you said with clenched teeth. Taking a sigh to calm your nerves, which didn’t work, you stared up at the building.

“Your breathing is quick. Are you alright?” Asked Winter.

“It’s just, I never expected to have a target in the White House. Thank you.” You cordially accepted the drink presented to you on a platter that one of the many servers was handing out. You reminded yourself you didn’t have to be doing any killing, but you weren’t so sure you’d be getting out scott free on this mission.

High profile target was right. More rustling was heard in your earpiece. You scoped out the first floor, meeting for a brief second with one of your HYDRA partners, who’d run through this area already. 

“I don’t have a good shot on the target. I’m coming in.” Winter said.

“What? Are you crazy?! What if you get caught?” you nearly exclaimed, going up to the second floor.

“I’m not going to get caught. I’ve been doing this since the 40’s. Besides, This isn’t my first presidential mission.” he made a good point, but that didn’t lessen your anxiety. Something was off about this mission to you. Was HYDRA going to test your loyalty? Or weed you out?

“Moving to the second floor.” you alerted everyone. The second floor was sparse, but still too close for comfort. In all honesty you had no idea where you were going. You took in a deep breath. How the fuck am i gonna get close? You continued to walk down a hallway, and the idea struck you. A woman, dressed in moderate business clothes, passed by you with a lanyard and a name tag. 

The two of you passed, without the woman noticing you, you shoved her into a secluded corner, and knocked her out. You took her lanyard and brushed yourself off. 

“I have a way that will get me close.” you announced.

“Oh so the Princess is useful after all?” Rumlow came over the comm system again, with snotty remarks.

“Shut up and do your job, asshole.” you bit back boldly.

“Ohohoho! Some spunk, finally! Gets me all riled up. It’s a shame you and the mutt are so close. Believe me I would fuck you so hard if I could. I’d give you the time of your life Princess.” Rumlow retorted.

“Watch your damn mouth!” Winter growled.

“Eyes in position. Target is about to give a speech.” you piped up. Hoping your interruption would diffuse the heat. The room was big and full of TV cameras recording live. More than ample security guards at the ready also. You swallowed thickly.

“Winter? We have live eyes. Everyone’s watching. The world is gonna see you. I don’t feel good about this.” you whispered sitting down in your press chair.

“The more the merrier. After the Kennedy mission, I had to lay low for a month. I imagine this will be no different.” Winter said in a nonchalant way.

“Black shirts, about 10 of them. Gathered mostly at the front of the podium.” 

“Only 10 this time? They’ve gotten soft in recent years. Piece of cake.” You heard the sound of a gun clicking, among various loud rustling noises. Your stomach began to do back flips as a familiar face graced the stage. Dr. Strange, the sorcerer, in this universe he’d made quite the name for himself as POTUS. The one that you’d grown to admire for a time, when you fought beside him in both wars for humanity. You’d only spent enough time with him to be a little more than acquaintances, after all the Avengers grew to be a wide swath of people and heroes alike, including yourself. 

Someone you didn’t recognize stood beside him, a woman with natural beauty, a mole adorning her face with a wide and, surprisingly genuine, smile. Maybe if you’d known Stephen Strange better, then you would know this woman too. They looked as if they were effortlessly happy together. Like how John and Jackie Kennedy portrayed themselves in the public eye. 

Frustrated grunts came over the ear piece, “Take the fucking shot!” whined one of  your mission mates. If you could call them such. Not that you trusted anyone other than Winter.

“Christine Strange is not a name on my ledger. She will only be killed if she stands in my way.” Winter replied coolly. You supposed, he had done so much killing under the clutches of HYDRA, that he’d thought of people as mere statistics. How much humanity had he had left? He surely salvaged some for you. Maybe that was the only thing keeping him going? You couldn’t imagine being locked away in that dungeon for so many years. Being frozen only to wake up in a different time to repeat the same bloody tasks. 

What if they did that to you? Kept you as one of their murderous puppets. You’d barely had time to think, entranced in memories of the past and worries of your future, when the shot rang out. Screams followed quickly after. People knocked into you as you stood still in the chaos. 

“Y/N. Keep moving. Don’t draw attention to yourself.” Winter ordered softly. You blinked a couple times to get your bearings straight again, well as straight as possible. The intimidating men in black suits all had their guns drawn but some were missing. You saw movement from the back of the stage but couldn’t make out enough to get a good read on it. Instead, you decided to double back. 

Leaving the room with the panic stricken as a cover was wise. But once you got out of the room, you didn’t exactly know where to go. You walked off in as quick a pace you could keep without warranting attention of onlookers through some more corridors. 

Pressing on the earpiece once you were  certain no one was following you, “Target eliminated. I’m moving to a secluded area n-”. Your sentence was cut off as you bumped into something hard, making you stumble a bit. Looking down, you realized it was not something but someone. Shit! Did a citizen see you? The person grabbed your forearms, to steady you. Dressed in a lavish tux, was Winter. His long blond hair pulled back into a rough bun. Was this what he meant by ‘going in’? 

It was your first time seeing him in formal attire, if you hadn’t been out doing HYDRA’s dirty work, no one would know that the two of you had just contributed to the assassination of the United States president. Some part of you wished this was all just a nightmare and that you and Winter were out on an expensive date. Maybe the President was inviting you and Winter on a commemoration dinner, for valiant efforts in the defeat of Thanos.

You’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat when you were looking at Winter in front of you. In that moment you could have kissed him, but he took your hand instead and led you to a fortunately empty back room.  Fumbling with his ear piece he took it out of his ear.

“Damn. Rumlow won’t respond. Comms are down. Static feedback. That means radio silence.” Winter calculated out loud. I bit my lip and listened for any threats just beyond the door. “Give me your ear radio. We have to do this fast.” he said, holding out his metal hand, glinting in the faint moonlight streaming through the nearest window.

“Ear radio? That’s a new one. Okay but why? What’s happening?” You were beginning to ask too many questions for the time sensitive situation. He crushed the two listening devices and threw the contents into his pocket square, most likely to discard later.

“If things went as expected, Strange could have easily used the time stone to turn back time and save himself. But , that didn’t happen. Our info was rancid. Either someone gave us bad intelligence or Strange didn’t have the stone tonight.” Winter rambled off, his eyes wildly searching for an unseen answer.

“I thought he was the only one who had control over the stone? Why do we have to get rid of our devices?” you asked, holding onto his hand a little tighter. You were scared but you trusted Winter. 

“One or more of our mission mates was a rat. And, Strange wasn’t the only target tonight. We still have a mission to complete. Looks like it’s 1963 all over again. We’re in it for the long haul Y/N.” Winter’s brow furrowed, his icy orbs staring back at yours. The warmth of his flesh hand left yours and carressed the tender flesh of your cheek. It was then that you noticed you were trembling.

You had to remind yourself to take a breath, filling your lungs as much as they’d let you.

“Mo Thaisce. You can trust me. I won’t let them hurt you, not if I can help it.” His words fell from his mouth as a soft plea. They were laced with a painful desperation that you could see in the harsh furrow of his brow. The fear of you possibly not being able to trust him, that’s what really terrified the Winter Soldier. You gave him a soft smile.

 “I trust you.” you said finally, trying to take control of your trembling body. You smoothed your hair and the corner of your dress down, revealing your soft and toned thigh. Through your long eyelashes you felt Winter’s eyes upon you. His adams’ apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. He tightened on the collar of his tie, maybe in an effort to distract himself from any long repressed carnal desires. 

“Let’s get moving. The Rat already knows our location. And he might not be working alone.”  He gave your shoulder a quick but light squeeze. 

“Follow me, and don’t get lost.” he ordered. Behind his back you were unable to conceal the smirk you had. You enjoyed toying with him, just a little. You knew it wasn’t a wicked gesture, but you were surprised that you’d grown to such feelings after a little over two days with the man. It was strange to say the least. Maybe it was because the man before you felt more like a version of your Bucky you once knew. All the heart and soul of Bucky, but painted with Steve’s face. You knew sooner rather than later you’d have to tell him what you knew. What you were and where you came from. Yes he knew you were different. But to have more trust between the both of you he needed to know everything you did.

It was far into the night, escaping out the back of the White House, leaving you biting your nails. There were no threats along the way. The feds would search the complex and far beyond for any trace of the assassin. You wondered, with all the advanced technology of today , that Winter could get away with such a thing at all. You shook your head at that thought, freeing you from it. This was HYDRA you were talking about. They could cover up an assassination like it was just another day at the job. Because that is what it was for them.

You came to a dark alleyway with nothing but trash blowing in the wind and an old model Impala, its sleek black paint job glinting in the darkness. You were just barely able to tell the car was in front of you. Winter  paced around the car, searching for something until he crouched down and grabbed an object from the undercarriage.

Reflexively you searched left and right for any signs that you were going to get caught. Thunder cracked overhead, making you jump. Winter smirked triumphantly as he waved the object in your direction, it looked like a grenade. It started to sprinkle as his finger tugged at the pin. You ran to him, hoping he wouldn’t blow himself into smithereens, or at least if he was, that you’d go with him.

The pin fell to the ground, and he released the trigger just as you got to his chest. He dropped the grenade and as it hit the ground, it burst into some sort of shield. The shield engulfed the both of you, now in a heap of flesh on the black top, the car, and the abandoned building adjacent to the car.  Looking up, the rain now pouring down heavier than before, still hits your face and left your skin cold. 

Your chest heaved from the sudden realization that you were, in fact, not dead. You looked back down at Winter, and he was chuckling. 

“You thought I was going to blow us up? Y/N, never. I’d never hurt you. It’s one of HYDRA’s trinkets, made for this kind of situation. We’ll camp out here for a few days until a confirmed operative can retrieve us.”  He continued to chuckle lightly, his hand warm going up to stroke your cheek and tuck a lock of soaking hair behind your ear. If it wasn’t for the sound of the pouring rain, you almost didn’t catch him say, “ What am I going to do with you?” under his breath. 

The comment made your heart skip a beat and a warmth spread into your body that left you feeling shy and embarrassed. Wanting to hide your face you  looked to the side at the grenade, seeing how it created this invisible shield around the two of you, technology really was something to gawk at. In the downpour you could just barely make out the police sirens. 

“Winter!” you whispered harshly. Worry painting your mind as you only had seconds to find cover. Winter’s face dropped all joy and returned to his solidified nature. Opening the back passenger side door of the car, he shoved you inside gently as the sirens crept closer. 

“Lay down. Keep a low profile. Damn it! I know it’s in here some– gotcha!” Searching frantically underneath the drivers’ seat, he pulled out a large dark tarp. You didn’t see how laying down on the backseat would do any good in the way of concealing two bodies in a very conspicuous car. But you complied anyway. 

Winter got on top of you, and pulled the tarp over top of him, covering us both. The sirens got closer, almost deafeningly loud. You could barely hear with the sound of the sirens, and your blood pressure thumped in your ears. He had enveloped you before, but this time was different. Or at least it felt different.  It was beginning to get stiflingly hot. 

From this angle you could see just how broad his back was, and how much he towered over you. He made you feel small, yes, but you… enjoyed it. You felt protected and safe. As the sirens screamed and the searchlights gleamed inside the car window, you kept very still, though you couldn’t bear to close your eyes. Afraid that if you did, you might lose Winter, though he was as close to you as he possibly could be. His cerulean orbs stared back at you, and softened at the sight of your panic. 

He put an index finger to his lips, a silent gesture to keep quiet. He didn’t have to tell you twice. You doubt you could speak at all, at this moment. You gulped silently, trying to rid yourself of the dryness forming  in your throat. Winter peeked his head out from under the tarp. In the faint light you saw a smirk grow on his features. The bench seat creaked from the shifting of his weight to the  back passenger side, next to me, shoving the tarp next to him between the door and his body. You sat up, echoes of bewilderment still showing on your face. 

“Ah. stupid, laboratory junk from HYDRA. Great concealment tool though.” Winter quirked his head in approval. You gawked out the window at the grenade, still on the ground where Winter had left it.

“What about that thing?” you asked, still giving it a long look. 

“A Houdini bomb, as I call it. I don’t know its real name but it will cover up anything within a one-hundred yard radius. Sound, sight, smell - it’ll cover it up like a smoke and mirror trick.it’s only weakness is rain and it lasts for only 5 days before it fizzles out. Uh. Sorry, I got too carried away again. Hehe. Kinda feel like I'm back at one of those Stark Science Fairs.” You saw his face turn a slight hue of red. He was embarrassed about his love for technology. I have to say I don’t think I would have ever seen this side of him, you thought as a gentle smile quirked on your lips.

“Stark Science Fairs are cool. Lavish and maybe a little over-the-top. But cool.” you subtly reassured him. He returned the favor with a warm grin. Unable to resist the feelings that had been brewing within you over the course of the night, you had to ask him a burning question. Even if it ended in tragedy, then you would know.

“Winter?,” you turned to face him, and his eyebrows quirked upward, “Have you ever been with a woman?”

"There were some the night I left to join the 107th. A few more after I was stationed. But, none like you. Well maybe there was only one like you." He said now facing you.

You nodded your head in agreement. You hadn't forgotten your doppelganger. Though, even before you'd arrived through the rabbit hole, she was but a Phantom in the heart of a man you deeply cared for. You remember his dark hair, and cool blue eyes like crystal waters. And a ring that seemed familiar but was not his.  Your mind was completely jumbled from the events of the past few days. Getting beaten, and drugged, and treated worse than trash– left you taxed. You were surprised you were functioning at this rate. 

"Y/N?," Winter asked in almost a whisper, "they… they made me do it. They made me…pull that trigger." Winter confessed.

"Yes. They made you. They did. Don't put that on you. You, and me too. We're their playthings. Please…please don't put that on you." Your voice was soft and near pleading. Instinctively you closed the gap between you two. Interlacing your delicate fingers with his metal ones. He didn't jerk away this time but he jumped and looked down at your soft flesh, still afraid he'd break something far too precious for him.

You leaned on the coolness of his shoulder, pressing your cheek to what would have been toned muscle. Even though you were soaked from head to toe, your hair still dripping lackadaisical onto the leather beneath you, it was sweltering inside the car. The rain hadn't let up and you were convinced the storm would go on well into the night. Hopefully the cops would need to call off the search momentarily until the rain lets up. 

Not that they could see you anyway, according to Winter. You sat soaking in the sounds of the pattering rain on the rooftop of the classic car. It was always a soothing sound. Until you broke the silence again,

"Why are you so sweet on me?" You asked.  Winter sighed, his chest heaving slowly as his lungs filled and deflated. 

"I remember what it's like to love someone. I can't let them taint you. Can't let them take you away from me too." He said, his eyes having a yearning to them.  Something in you knew on this night that there was no going back. No ‘normal’. Just two souls forever plagued by memories of past loved ones. Could it be possible? To love and love another through tragic circumstances? This was familiar. You’d done it recently, fallen in love too quickly and because of a heart that bled for tenderness. Now you have two. Two extraordinary men that loved you with every fiber of the being. Except one, was quickly fading from your memory and blending into the one in front of you.

End Part 6

[ktficworld]

I love when writers incorporate concepts of their own. I wanna know what happened to Steve and sam, where is sam?

Warm Shadows - Let All Light Go (2/4)

Collection: Warm Shadows Characters/Pairings: Alpha!Steve x f!Omega!Reader, existing Alpha!Bucky x f!Omega!Reader Word Count: 7.5k Summary: Now that he's claimed you, Captain Hydra takes you back to his new base of operations, his little omega bait for the Soldat. But the bond between an alpha and an omega is a powerful thing that shouldn't be trifled with. [sequel to When You Fall On Me Like Night]

Content Warnings: DARK, a/b/o dynamics, explicit smut, DUBIOUS CONSENT/omega heat, oral - female receiving, vaginal fingering, breast play, vaginal intercourse

Logistical Notes: We've got a dose of pride for @nickfowlerrr's Seven Deadly Sins + Seven Holy Virtues writing event. Now this second part is too late for the Horror Movie Hoe-a-thon, but I had most of it written before the challenge closed, and so I had plucked another dialogue prompt from her list, so I still want to give @witchywithwhiskey credit where it's due, and you'll find the prompt in bold and italics when it appears.

Additional Notes: I had no intention of making this three times as long as the original, but Steve had other plans. So many other plans. Thanks to @biteofcherry for letting me suss out a couple of the things I had questions on plot-wise. Title from Hozier's De Selby (Part 2).

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

Steve doesn’t smile anymore. He hasn’t smiled in weeks. And yet the frown on his face is more than the non-smile stoicism that had taken over his demeanor since the ambush outside of Turin. He exhales deeply, washing away the frown as he straps your limp body into the jump seat of the stealth jet. Unconscious and sedated, your head falls forward though your torso is held back by the chest harness of the safety belt. Steve angles your head back against the headrest because if you got a crick in your neck, it will be a problem he doesn’t want to hear you try and complain about later.

He had achieved his objective in coming to Wakanda. Though the operation had played out with slight differences from what he had anticipated, it had gone as close as he could have logically projected in almost every aspect. He knew Bucky. No. The Winter soldier, he corrects. And he knew you. As players in this piece of the plan, you had both been reliably predictable.

As a super soldier Steve knew the strengths, the weaknesses, the limitations, and what Barnes would be susceptible to. That’s why he had been so prepared in laying his trap and incapacitating the asset.

Overpowering you had been easy.

Claiming you had split a slow but building tremor to his system. It had changed what he’d intended to do.

A few hours later as he approaches the remote Hydra base, that disconcerting feeling in his brain that he is working to tamp down still smolders with something unsettled that makes him flick his eyes up to the mirror that allows the pilot to check the interior behind him to see that you’re still in the same state of sedation.

His new conditioning will help him to control this irritating itch.

After touching down and rolling into the hangar, Steve unbuckles you from the seat and slings your unconscious body over his shoulder. He doesn’t stop walking but proceeds to give his brief mission report to the ranking officer on base who was waiting to meet him at the base of the small jet’s cargo ramp as he exits. This man is not his handler but his liaison for the time being. He’s competent enough that Steve if rarely frustrated with him. The power dynamics are something Steve is constantly aware of. Hydra wants to know they are in control and yet learned with the Winter Soldier that an asset stripped of complete autonomy was more inflexible to work with – and impossible to pull back when he broke free. They don’t want to make the same mistake with him, but they give him no illusion over who his allegiance is to now. It’s not a leash, but an unmistakable tether that they will let him tenuously control as long as he ultimately complies.

It's why he has tolerable and private living quarters where he deposits you on top the large bed. He leaves a bottle of water next to you and then leaves. The door to his quarters is controlled by a fingerprint recognition, allowing Steve a fair amount of control over who can come in and out, and he has no intention of giving you access.

He goes to the mess to get food. No one approaches him while he eats. He collects two of the meal boxes that are ready to go – one marked for lunch, one marked for dinner – and brings them back for you.

You’re still asleep when he returns. He takes the time to order routine meal delivery to his quarters for you long term as well as a supply of standard issue clothes and laundry service. This base is a hub for research and development, so the standard of living is functional and minimalistic, which suits him fine, and that is all you will require as his omega.

It's mid afternoon before you finally wake, and he can sense the moment you resume consciousness – his heightened senses heard the change in your breathing, but there’s also an innate sense about it. He wasn’t expecting that.

He shifts slightly where he sits in a boxy armchair reading over some new intelligence reports on his tablet to watch you. You slowly sit up causing the water bottle he set on the mattress next to you to roll against your body, and you frown, then look around and see him almost immediately. Fear and anger show immediately in your face, exactly as he expected.

“Your food is on the counter,” he says flatly.

“I don’t want it.”

“You will,” he responds.

You look away from him, scan the single-room quarters, and then look down to the water bottle again. He hears your small sigh before you pick it up, unscrew the top to take a few sips, then close it and shift to one side of the bed and lay back down, curling up, facing away from him. There’s an east-facing window on that side of the room.

None of this behavior is unexpected, and it’s of no matter to him. He has you here, he’s keeping you here as long as necessary. You’re hurt, you will hold onto your pride at the offense for a long while yet, and he expects it. He’s not offended. It will wear away.

He has a few projects he planned to touch base with various research and development teams on the base, and so now that he knows you’re alert and fine, he has no problem resuming his operations and routines.

The single declaration over the food is all you say to him for the first few days.

Not that he is there much either. He has missions, projects, agendas – his own and Hydra’s, and certainly doesn’t exist to coddle his omega.

An omega, he reminds himself.

There is only one bed, and he doesn’t say one word about it to you. The first night when he returns, you are curled in on yourself on the edge of the bed much as you had been earlier when he left (though he notes you had eaten the roll from the dinner box, so you had moved at some point). He wordlessly changes into his sleepwear and slides beneath the sheets. He figures if it bothers you enough, you can choose to sleep on the small couch or the floor, but he isn’t going to give up the bed to accommodate you.

On the third day, you rise when he does. The small bathroom is the only private part of the living quarters, so he is closed off from you while he showers, but as he eats breakfast and finishes the rest of his morning routine, you sit in the armchair, legs curled up, and watch him with a cool storm in your eyes.

When he returns on the fourth night, you smell different. You wear the same clothes, but you’ve clearly showered, and you must have done what you could to clean your clothes in the sink because you're wearing them and not the base-issued garments. You’re already curled up on your side of the bed, still on top of the bedding, barefoot, but not sleeping yet.

Your state of unrest is burdening his thoughts. It’s an imposition he can’t have.

The way you bleed into his consciousness was the only thing he had stupidly forgotten to even account for in this maneuver to draw out the Soldat. Part of it was because he hadn’t been entirely sure he could successfully make the claiming bond – he knew he could get the bite, but it had been a gamble on whether it would work.

It had.

Though it hadn’t been like a clap of lightning but more like an invisible string threaded between the two of you. He had used it to manipulate the situation that night, but the reality of it had also shifted what his original plan for you had been.

Having never bonded with an omega, he had heard varying reports of how the connections could develop between an alpha and an omega. Some said it was strong enough to reach a degree of non-verbal communication, but this seemed to be developing as more of a constant, pressing awareness as the string wove further through him as the days passed, but an awareness that he was learning to read and decipher.

That cool storm that brewed in your eyes any of the few times you looked at him had to be tamed. He didn’t expect it to go away, but he could not have the rage brewing, growing, and pulsing from you to him. He can’t afford the distraction.

In an operations meeting one of the analysts sits down to the table with two unnecessary books in the stack of things they’ve brought with them, and he remembers that you loved to read.

He deposits a linen tote bag with a stack of books on your bedside table that night, returning after you’re already asleep.

He leaves for a mission across the globe before you wake the next morning.

When he returns three days later, it’s mid-afternoon, and he goes to his quarters after the mission debriefing. You’re sitting almost comfortably on the couch with one of the books. You still regard him with cold, guarded eyes, but you’re wearing the base-issued clothing. It’s plain, utilitarian, slate grey.

He remains with you the rest of the evening, the two of you eating dinner together at the small table in one corner of the room when meals are delivered. You don’t look at him, and he doesn’t watch you too much. He thought he had been focused on the mission. He thinks now the focus had come easily again because you were less angry, an icy ache rather than the rampant and enflamed rage that was only further agitated without anything to do.

The next day is unremarkable with this new development. You read, you wear different clothes from the base again, and he is back to his standard on-base routine, returning to his quarters after dinner but before dark. It’s the same the day after, and then the day after that. The only thing that changes at the end of one more day, is that once you’re settled to sleep and he slides into bed a quarter of an hour later, he’s about to drop off to sleep when he hears you take a deep breath.

His own heart stills. What are you about to do?

“Can I have normal clothes?” you ask softly.

One request could lead to another request, and another.

But if they’re as simple as this, easy enough to appease, he could say yes until he needs to refuse you something he’s not willing to entertain.

“I’ll see it done.”

“Oh,” your response is small, surprised.

“Now sleep,” he says, not a command.

Mid-morning he has a break between consultations, and he pulls one of the base caretakers aside and charges them with accommodating your request.

He returns to you before dinner that night. He simply finished his work earlier than usual that day, it’s nothing more than that. You’re in jeans and a lightweight crewneck sweatshirt. Eating dinner is another quiet affair, but the easiest it’s been out of the few times you’ve shared any meals in this place.

Over the next week he eats breakfast with you and most of his dinners. There’s a sadness that’s growing, but he is also melting the glacier of your guarded hostility.

While eating dinner one evening, you ask, “Where are we?”

“A Hydra research and development facility.”

You give it another moment, and then you press further, “And where’s this facility located?”

He looks up at you across the table and gives a dark, wry smirk. “Europe.” His tone is clipped. He can see you know that’s the end of the information he’s going to give you on the matter.

“How are your books?” he ventures after a few minutes. He had gone to the bookshop in the town to purchase a second stock of books for you earlier in the week.

“I appreciate them,” you answer. Without looking back up at him, you say, “The old you liked to read.”

He glowers at you, but he can see there’s almost a warmth in your eyes. It does something to him, so he drops his eyes back to his plate.

He stands abruptly and takes his plate to the counter by the sink, then he leaves. He won’t entertain that line of conversation with you. He paces through the facility for an hour before he returns. When he sees you seem to have been waiting for him, there’s a small warmth in his chest. You just nod at him, and he nods in return. No more words are exchanged between you that night.

When you both finally retire to bed, he doesn’t say a word or give any sign of reacting to you pulling the covers back on your side of the bed for the first time in this space and climbing into them, he simply does the same on his side. You still stay rigidly still and curled up, nearly on the edge of the mattress, but it’s more than he ever expected from you. The nights following, you maintain this step forward in proximity.

He notices your hand going to your bonding mark from Bucky over the following days, and it happens more and more frequently. He almost says something, but as he scrutinizes your actions, he sees you do it without seeming to think about it. It bothers him, but when he sees it’s not intentional, it’s not jealousy or rage that eats at him, it’s something else.

Because why hasn’t the Soldat come for you yet?

That was the object of the game, after all.

He was sure he hadn’t underestimated the Soldat’s skills or Bucky’s devotion to you. Bucky had, in fact, been spotted close enough in the region that the whole base had been on red alert for three days, certain the Winter Soldier would strike, but he hadn’t. Then the reports were he’d gone further north and left Italy altogether, so the alert had gone down from red to orange, and now sat at yellow - standard caution and operating procedures.

It was bothering him further because you were supposed to be Bucky’s beloved omega. How could he abandon you this long? Work so carelessly? Soldat should be desperate and raising hell at this point.

Because at this point?

It’s why Steve decides to embark on one more mission. He doesn’t tell you where he is going. He didn’t tell you even that he is going. He could already feel your unease growing, the questions and uncertainty. He doesn’t need his omega further agitated.

His mission is quick and successful.

As he returns, there is a sudden spike of fear and adrenaline when he is about an hour out from the base. It burns through his system, and he hasn’t felt any emotions overpower him this strongly in weeks and weeks, but after less than a minute it’s snuffs out almost as quickly as it had flared.

Twenty minutes from landing, a call buzzes in over his comms.

“Captain, our base has been attacked, but we are clear from intruders and in active recovery mode now,” his liaison’s voice relays.

“Intruders?” he growls.

“Full report forthcoming and will be ready by the time you arrive. You are cleared for landing but divert to the machine storage facility rather than our standard hangar, we’ve sustained damage there. End communication.”

Steve slams his fist against the arm rest of the seat – the place he knew could sustain the brunt of his impatience – and it breaks off, smashed away completely.

His landing approach gives him a view of the obvious devastation to the base, the entire northwest quadrant still in flames, but with crews working quickly to extinguish the fire.

His liaison is waiting in a truck to drive from the storage on the outskirts back to the main base.

“Twenty-two casualties, six injured, two hundred on evacuation disbursement orders. Only beta essential personnel and the damage control teams remain, prime essential personnel were evacuated as soon as the intruder was reported.”

Steve frowns. “Identity?”

“Confirmed as the Soldat.”

Steve nods. “You said intruders when you contacted me on approach.”

“We’ve since confirmed it was the Winter Soldier and only him.”

He nods again. That news wasn’t surprising. Had he known I would be gone? He was certainly cutting it close, waiting until almost the eleventh hour to come for his omega.

“Status of the omega?”

“We sedated and moved the omega to our facility outside of Geneva.”

Steve’s entire chest seizes in rage – not only moving his omega without consulting him, but to sedate her without any thought? It doesn’t matter that it’s standard protocol for prisoners, you’re his omega. However, every alarm in his head rings immediately that he can not show any ripple of emotion or he may very well never see his omega again. He won’t make the same mistake again – not for a third time.

“Geneva will be the next center of operations for current projects?” he asks.

“Correct. Early calculations project that this base can be functional again in four to five months, and we’ll evaluate whether projects will move back, or continue in Geneva and other bases in the region and clear the way for new initiatives here. We thought you would want to see evidence and damages yourself here first, which is why I didn’t redirect you once we had entered the first recovery stages after clearing all immediate threats, Captain.”

“The logical call,” he agrees.

Four and a half hours later, he touches down in Geneva, but it’s another two hours before he can escape all the protocol and regrouping strategy conversations. Within ten minutes after that, he’s in the new living quarters assigned to him on the Swiss base.

And there you are. Haphazardly deposited on the bed, but there all the same. He lets out a breath as he closes the door behind him. It locks automatically. He drops his pack on the couch and then makes his way to you. He rights your body, laying you fully across the bed and straightening your limbs. He removes your shoes and tucks a pillow beneath your head. He could smell you immediately on entering the quarters, but handling your body now confirms you’re dangerously close to breaking into your heat a day earlier than you were supposed to. He has no doubt it’s due to the distress of the day. That spike of fear and adrenaline he felt earlier had to have been you moments before you were sedated for transport.

He examines your neck, but sees no evidence of an injection, which leaves sedation by inhalation. In a situation where they needed efficiency and couldn’t chance a miscalculation of precision, it was the logical move. It also narrows things down to one of two compounds currently in use for inhaled sedation, which he appreciates.

Then he sees the bloom of a bruise forming already on your arm just above the elbow, and his brow furrows. He will review the footage and he will find out who did this to you.

Satisfied in general over your state – even breathing and no other visible injuries – he turns his attention to the new living quarters. It’s still a studio set up, but moderately larger than the Turin facility. There he’d been assigned quarters for an individual, and this is clearly one of the units designed for Hydra personnel with a partner. A marked difference here is an area that is sectioned off as a study with a desk and a bookshelf. There are already some books there, but empty shelves that can be filled as well.

There’s a decently sized case on the table in the kitchenette area. Inside is a selection of personal effects transported here from Turin, likely collected after the initial evacuation of personnel, but delivered here in those first two hours while he was in the strategy meetings upon arrival. There are a few items of his clothing, a modest selection of the wardrobe he’d arranged for you, toiletries, and even your small accumulation of books.

He has just finished unpacking the case when he can sense you stirring on the bed. A moment later he feels the spike of unease and tension as you register the new surroundings, sitting up on the bed, but he’s already approaching you.

He can feel the diminution of your nerves when your eyes land on him, but he sees the initial wave of relief in your eyes that you also try and stamp away in an instant.

He sits cautiously but with no apology on the edge of the bed next to you.

“Where are we?”

“A new facility.”

Your eyes study him for a moment. He knows you’re assessing that his answer means he won’t give you details. “Still in Europe?”

He nods.

“How long since the former facility was compromised?” you ask.

He smirks. You were always intelligent – not that it would have been difficult to figure out, but he’s proud of how quickly your mind works.

You huff at his hesitation and roll your eyes. “If you think I’ll use the information to try and figure out where we might be, I don’t know where we started, so it won’t be of any use to me, I’m just hungry and want to know how much time I’ve lost.”

“It’s been somewhere between seven to eight hours.”

He reaches for his communications tablet and quickly orders a standard meal for each of you to be delivered as he hasn’t eaten much either.

“It was him, wasn’t it?” you break the silence again. “Bucky found me.”

He hadn’t planned to tell you, but he won’t lie to you. “Yes”

“He’ll find me again. He said that wherever I went, he would find me.”

“Oh, I know.” His stare is back on you. “That’s the entire point. I need the Soldat.”

The silence that builds between you two is full of anger on your side. There’s nothing else for him to explain, but he’s curious to see how long you’ll keep this moment stretching on before ending it or saying something else.

But it grows more and more uncomfortable, and you try not to fidget. You’ve never been one to fidget, and certainly not over these past few weeks at any point around him. Then he notices the beads of perspiration gathering on your brow.

“Your heat, Omega.”

“My heat, not yours.”

“Sure,” he laughs cruelly. He reaches out to touch your cheek, somewhat patronizingly.

“Don’t touch me!” you snarl and snap your jaws at him, causing him to withdraw his hand immediately. “I don’t need you.”

“Fine.” He stands and retreats, not because he fears you in the slightest, but because he won’t fight your petulance, not when he has better things he can do at least for now. “Face your heat alone, Omega.”

He leaves, hearing you let out another impatient huff just as the door closes behind him.

He leaves you in pursuit of one of the data analysis rooms. If you’re going to be difficult and refuse him, he can do better things with his time until you’re ready to bend and keen for him. Once there, he logs into the system and pulls up the footage from Turin. He watches every frame of the Winter Soldier’s attack on the facility. It was shown earlier when he was meeting with the Hydra officers in debriefing the attack, but now he can study it alone in its entirety, moving from camera to camera outside, and then through each hallway and room without commentary from anyone else, able to slow down and rewind each moment as he sees fit.

It’s masterful.

And he looks directly at cameras after many of the kills. Twenty-two casualties and only six injuries? That’s intentional. He knows the Soldat could have executed this more quietly, and that’s evident in how he exits when he realizes you’ve been moved. From that point, his exit strategy has him engaging with almost no one, but setting fires and explosions, leaving enough damage in his wake to send his message.

It’s effective.

Steve narrows the block of time from the incident on the base and watches additional footage from the same ten-minute period. It’s every frame of the footage related to your acquisition, sedation, and transport from the base. He is interested in discovering just how the Soldat knew when to retreat, and he leaves notes in his log and in addition to drafting and sending a memo with some of his theories and observations to his primary liaison and a few of the officers on the taskforce. But his primary objective was to figure out who handled you so roughly, and he does. They will be dealt with later. He can’t expose such a personally driven need to deal out punishment.

While he’s been gone he’s felt the tenor of your emotions tugging at him – not tugging insistently, and with how tightly you’ve tried to control and suppress your emotions over the past few weeks, this must mean you’re battling to keep things at bay, pushed beneath the surface. As soon as he enters, he clocks the spiking fluctuations of your hormones. Since returning with you from Wakanda, he’s read extensively over the heat cycles, and this situation gives all the signs that you’re vacillating precaiously between falling into either a standard heat or a dry heat. You’re trying to stave off the heat as long as possible, but it will come, and if you fight it too hard, it will be a dry heat, which will be physically and mentally painful for you and difficult for him to navigate with you. He needs to edge you carefully from that tipping point of the dry heat.

You’re sitting at the table, having polished off one of the meals already and eating the last bits of the other one. It looks like they were boxes with sandwiches, fruit, and vegetables. You’ve left the celery from both servings. He smirks, but he’s glad you’ve eaten. That’s a good sign.

In another attempt at normalcy, desperate to keep things at bay, you push the chair out across the table from you with your foot, nodding for him to sit. You try and engage him in completely normal lines of conversation. He knows what you’re doing. He’ll entertain it for at least a little while so he can assess more of your state and how he should handle it.

He’s more concerned with watching you than listening to what you’re saying. You stand to refill your cup with water, and he follows you to the sink. He reaches into the cupboard and gets a glass of his own, encroaching somewhat into your space very casually. It doesn’t put you on edge, so he eases even closer, as you continue to talk. He puts a hand on your shoulder and leans in to fill his cup with the tap. There’s a slight hitch in your breathing at his proximity. He pushes the teasing of his closeness even more, moving his hand down your arm and resting it on the counter next to yours.

“I know what you need, Omega,” he whispers against the shell of your ear.

He can feel you do everything you can to remain still.

But then you turn your head ever so slightly toward him. “The last time you touched me, you humiliated me.” Your voice is flat.

He doesn’t respond, but he also doesn’t move.

Finally, you ask, “What did they do to you?” your voice barely above a whisper.

The dangerous question comes out of nowhere, and the surge of emotion it evokes in him is immediate. He growls, whipping away, not even thinking before he slams his fists on the table. It splits in two clean pieces. He grabs one before it even falls to the floor and throws it against the wall, smashing it, splinters flying.

He turns back, advancing on you, and you’re already trembling. He doesn’t relent, forcing you up against the wall, caging you in. He pounds his fist into the wall right above your head, and you close your eyes, afraid to move. He can smell the fear in your scent now, but there can be no confusion here.

“No, Omega,” he speaks low, and his other hand moves lightning fast to grip your chin. He can feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers. “Look at me.” You open your eyes. “We aren’t doing that.”

He leaves a beat of silence between you.

“Do you understand?”

You nod.

He drops your chin, then grips the neck of your shirt and yanks, ripping the fabric down the front and jerking you forward, making you bump into his chest. He picks you up and hauls you across the room with a few furious strides to drop you onto one of the armchairs.

You right yourself in the seat as he steps back, but only an arm’s length away. He doesn’t have to use his alpha voice or say the words. He knows the look he gives you communicates his instruction: stay put, don’t move.

He slowly undresses, unfastening, unbuckling, unzipping. He places each article of his dark tactical suit in an orderly pile on the coffee table. It’s purposeful, this tactic. The onset of your heat is only a moment away. You’ve been doing everything in your power to stave it off. Part of him clocks this enormous show of strength and sees it for more than stubbornness, recognizing the discipline and power within you. But this has gone on long enough, he needs you to finally tumble over the edge, and he will push you if he must.

He watches you watching him as he reveals each expanse of naked flesh – arms and torso, legs, and finally his loins when he slips off his boxer briefs. He’s hard for you, of course he is, the pheromones have been flooding out of you, and he wasn’t tempted to touch you in Turin, but now it’s all he can think about. He wants your body supple and pliant, submissive beneath him. He stands above you, looming, imposing – he knows he is, and he wants you to feel that he can do this – and pumps his cock slowly with his own fist.

He does it a few more times, watching you watch him. He sees the small ripple of a shudder you can’t suppress when your breath hitches.

“Undress,” he commands.

Your jaw ticks up. He knows you don’t like it – he felt it the first time he gave you an alpha command, and he hasn’t again until this moment. You look down as you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra and slide it off, dropping it to the floor. You stubbornly refuse to meet his eye since he’s making you do this – he knows it. You hook your thumbs into your waistband, and you push your leggings and underwear down in a slight huff.

“Spread your legs,” he issues another command.

You do, still refusing to meet his eye. Part of it is the irritation over the commands, but he knows part of it is also the trepidation still pulsing through you. He doesn’t want to make this easy for you, but he doesn’t want you to suffer the agony of a dry heat where you’ll be agitated, devoid of slick, in pain, and distressed.

He sinks to his knees between your parted thighs, but now you can’t help but look at him staking his claim there so close to your exposed core. He can see you have a million questions in your eyes, it’s the most you’ve allowed him to glimpse of you – the real you – these past weeks.

He lowers his head, keeping his eyes on yours, and licks a slow, broad stripe from the side of your knee along the soft flesh of your inner thigh. He can feel you tense and hold your breath. And he stops inches from your warm cunt, pulling back and kneeling back on his heels.

You whimper.

He knows he has you now.

“Touch yourself, Omega,” he doles out the third command. He knows how he wants this to play out.

“Don’t make me,” you plead, but your hands are already slowly moving to your center.

“Do it,” he barks, and you flinch.

There’s a little bit of slick between your pussy lips, and he watches you trace a finger slowly over your folds, up and down. You drop your head down and to the side, refusing once more to look at him.

“Omega, have you ever experienced the pain of a dry heat?”

You huff.

“Is that what you want?”

“I want him!” you blurt, and you certainly must not have meant to say it out loud because your hands immediately fly to cover your mouth and your eyes flash to him in fear. And anger. Both are there.

He growls and surges forward to claim your clit between his lips, clamping his hands at the juncture of your thighs to keep your legs open. He sucks hard and flicks his tongue angrily over the little bundle of nerves, drawing a cry from you immediately. Your hands push at his head, but there’s no match for his strength, and he holds your pelvis firmly to his face.

“No, no, no,” you murmur, starting to cry.

He keeps up the furious sucking and flicking, and it’s less than a minute before he feels your whole body seize up, frozen as the first orgasm crashes down on you. Slick begins to seep out in abundance, and he hums in approval, but he doesn’t relent, only changes his tactics. He flattens his tongue and laps at your cunt, letting his tongue slip between your folds and into your hole every two or three licks. It’s less frenzied, but no less insistent, and he rips a second orgasm from you easily. He hums in approval as this time that blissful wave forces you to throw your head and shoulders back, and you land against the back of the armchair, clutching at the rim of it next to your head.

But he won’t relent yet.

He reaches up to cup one of your breasts in his hand, and you moan and push your chest forward for him, head still thrown back, and he imagines your eyes must be shut. He squeezes your breast, then tweaks your nipple, and your breath hitches. He presses his mouth back to your folds and works his lips over your puffy, engorged clit, working slowly this time. He draws his hand away from your breast, and then he slides the fingers that just tweaked your nipple into your tight heat. He pumps slowly, and your hand moves to the back of his head, applying insistent pressure there. He crooks the fingers and strokes along your front wall, and he knows he finds the spot of your undoing when your legs abruptly shift, the left lengthening out, and your right hitching up over his shoulder to press into his back. He doesn’t change a thing now, sucking, pressing. He knows you’re on your way, but he will not hasten this. He wants you to feel every drawn out moment of this – some but not enough of what you need.

Paying attention to every breath above him, every movement of your body, and especially the way your muscles start to squeeze around the fingers he has inside you, he stops just short of your third orgasm.

You whine in protest, but he pushes himself up to stand above you. He grabs your waist and hauls you easily with his preternatural strength up and over his shoulder. You claw at his back, but it’s only a few quick steps for him to be able to throw you down onto the bed.

Your fear from his outburst is long gone, and the face you turn up at him is angry, and you snarl, quickly kneeling up on the bed.

He grasps your chin in his slick-covered hand and looks into your face. “You will beg for me, and only then will I consider whether or not I will touch you again or let you suffer.”

He drops your chin and is already turning away, but you’re lightning fast in reaching for his wrist.

He stops and only inclines his head part of the way to look back at you.

“Take me,” you plead, voice stronger than he expected.

He furrows his brow.

“Please,” you implore.

He turns fully back to you. Perhaps he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is. You’d always been adaptable and clever, and rarely stubborn to your own detriment. You had been stubbornly trying to hold the heat at bay, dangerously so to tempt the dry heat, but he knows this is an extreme circumstance for you, and with the tide turned yet again, he was almost impressed that you had so quickly determined it was worth it to take what you needed.

“Then present,” he says simply.

You turn, moving up to the middle of the bed, but close to the headboard, and kneel on all fours.

He climbs up behind you.

You drop down to your elbows, subjecting yourself to him, omega to alpha.

He takes his cock in his hand and rubs the angry red tip up and down your slick folds. You whimper, and he sees the small shiver that runs down your spine. He sinks his thick length into your tight heat, and you both groan as he fills you for the first time. He doesn’t move once his hips are finally flush against your ass. He breathes in and out, in and out, and watches your measured breaths as well.

He did not know it would be like this.

He reaches forward, grips your shoulder, and pulls you up and back towards him. Your hands move to reach out to steady yourself on the headboard. He presses his fingers into that juncture at your neck where he claimed you, and you keen, throwing your head back. He leans forward and while his right hand stays anchored at your hip, his left strokes that bite again, then moves to hold the front of your neck as he leans down and forward over you. You look up at him, he looks down at you. “You’re fucking mine, Omega,” he growls, your eyes locked.

“Yes, Alpha.”

Then he feels you rock your hips back against his. He smooths his hand down your neck, then presses his lips to your forehead. “You’re mine,” he says again, imprinting the words against your skin.

Then he pulls back and thrusts into you. A few thrusts like that, but as you begin to keen for him, begging for more, he has to drop back and grip your hips with both hands to fuck you. You both come twice – once quickly, and once more very slowly – before you’re boneless beneath him, and he forces you down to the mattress, shifting you to your side and drawing you up against his chest. You whine, but he strokes your arm and promises he’ll give you more once you sleep.

While you sleep in his arms, sticky and sweaty, his mind goes to work.  

It’s not long before you wake again, and you two truly fuck, carnal bleeding with a few moments that are too tender for either of you to acknowledge. But his stamina outmatches yours and he has you exhausted and sleeping again before long.

He’s never taken care of an omega in heat before, and it’s all-consuming, but he stays focused. When you’re awake, he plies your body with pleasure until you cry, keen, moan, scream aloud and silently, and it goes on and off again between sex and sleep all through the day. He’s prepared for your reluctance during the first high phase of the heat to eat or drink anything, but he slips you bits of fruit and nuts as he can, gets you to greedily gulp water only after he pushes it your way insistently. You want his cock, not hydration or nutrition.

A little before midnight the second night, you stretch and yawn waking from another of your short sleeps, and then you roll out of bed and pad to the bathroom. He’s been rooting through some of the cupboards, taking stock of what’s there, and he finishes quickly and follows you into the bathroom after he hears you flush the toilet and then turn on the showerhead. You’re slipping into the shower when he enters the bathroom, and he’s there in time for you to give the silent invitation for him to join you – the expectation, even.

You’re still in heat, but craving a shower lets him know you’ll have enough of your mind back for what needs to happen now.

Things are tenuous, but there’s no denying that this heat has changed things for both of you. He claimed you in Wakanda, but the two of you have bonded through the first thirty hours of this heat in ways neither of you thought possible.

He takes the lathered-up sponge you place in his hands, and he washes your body carefully. Then you take it back, soap it up again, and run it over his skin with the same kind of attention.

He washes your hair, you rinse away the suds, and then he pulls you flush against him. You take his hardening cock in your hand and pump shamelessly. He groans appreciatively, than pushes your back up against the tiles, moves your hands away, and pulls your leg up around his waist so he can enter you. You clutch at his shoulders for stability and moan. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, but he speaks just loud enough for you to hear, “This is the only place I’m sure no one will hear us, but they also need to have no reason to question what’s happening if they’re monitoring.” He moves his hips back and then pumps slowly into you again. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you moan, “more, Alpha.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly, though he knows you can’t see it. He tongues his bite at your neck, and you whimper. He gives you another thrust, and you keen.

“I won’t have you anywhere near these Hydra personnel anymore. I don’t trust them.”

The surprised noise that escapes your throat is slightly distressed, and so he speeds up his thrusts a little. “My heat,” you whisper.

“The heat cycle is the only time no one expects me to be anywhere or respond to anyone unless there’s complete catastrophe, and I already reported the onset of your heat last night. They won’t disturb us for a few more days, and they will not expect us to attempt to leave our quarters let alone the facility. If we can manage to get out unnoticed, we will have enough of a head start on time to lose them completely.”

You remain quiet.

“Omega?”

“And go where?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

You push his face away from your neck and push at his chest. “I’m still nothing more than your bait?”

He growls and turns you around so your chest and face are pressed up against the wall.

“I’m still your alpha, and yes my end game is still to draw out the Soldat.”

“Why?”

“I need him.”

He nudges your legs apart and enters you from behind, and you groan as he fills you.

He pulls back, about to enter you again, but then you turn your head, and gasp, “Wait,” in a tone that’s different enough that he does, brow furrowing as he meets your eyes.

“Omega?”

“Tell me what happened to Sam, to you, and I promise I’ll go with you willingly.”

He didn’t think you knew Sam had been with him.

You reach for his head and urge him back to the cradle of your neck.

With more than your words and the gentle action, you’re also entreating him through the bond, he can feel it. It’s powerful. And so he tells you. It only takes him two sentences to tell you what you need to know. Tears stream down your face, and he fucks you then, the fucking he needs for him, not you, but you allow him to take.

go immediately to part three: Carving Through the Dark

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[criminalamnesia]

random scenario my brain made up a few nights ago!!

you and bucky and steve had been childhood best friends. when the boys enlisted, you followed close behind, donning white as you learned your role as a military nurse.

after steve’s transformation into the captain, he specifically requested that you and bucky were assigned to stay by his side. although other officials tried to deny him this— they said it would be distracting— steve refused to fulfill his role without the two of you.

although unspoken, you had always had something more with bucky. steve knew, but it didn’t bother him. you were like a sister to him, and bucky was like his brother. he was ecstatic that his two favorite people were finding solace in one another.

and then the train incident happens, and you both lose bucky. it tears the both of you to shreds— all you can do is hold each other and sob, unable to articulate how soul-crushing it is to lose a man you both loved in your own ways.

a month after bucky dies, steve loses you too. it’s really unclear how it happens. one minute you’re there, tending to the wounded, dragging soldiers back toward the medical tents. the next you’re gone, your stained nurse’s cap left forgotten in the dirt.

steve is beside himself. two parts of him have gone, both presumably dead, and he struggles to cope.

he tries sacrifice himself against the red skull, but against his will, is reawakened a century later in a time he doesn’t know with people he doesn’t understand.

but then he starts to heal, starts to let others in again. after all, steve can’t help his kind heart. he empathizes with natasha, comes to understand tony. finds companionship in sam and finally feels like his two childhood friends, although gone, have come back in the form of a redhead assassin and the falcon.

and then he meets the winter soldier and his shadow.

her name isn’t known to shield’s records. those that have seen her rarely live to tell the tale. natasha is able to offer even less information on her than she is about the brute with the metal arm.

it takes steve aback, how in sync the soldier and his shadow fight. it’s eerie— the soldier tosses up a knife, a hand appears out of the shadows and grabs it. no words spoken, none needed. a deep understanding of one another, the trauma endured and the bond forged making the two into one.

the mask falls from the solider first, and steve swears his heart stops. bucky. his bucky. his best friend, his brother, alive and standing in front of him.

nothing happens for a second— a second that feels like a lifetime to steve as he relives watching bucky fall to his death. to holding you as the both of your mourned a body that would never be found.

the winter soldier extends a hand to the side, and his partner steps out of shadows, placing a knife into his open palm. she had taken to holding back natasha and sam while bucky fought steve. sometime during the fight, she had lost her mask as well.

and steve falls to his knees as you fully materialize out of the dark, shadows receding around you, curling from the tips of your fingers and finally dissipating.

hydra had gotten you, too.

it made too much sense. you and bucky had always had a bond deeper than friends, deeper than lovers, even. you were intertwined so deeply, one could not take a step without the other knowing. (if only the two of you had acted on things sooner).

the one key to bucky’s heart, the one that could influence him even more than steve could, was you. the greatest weakness. hydra capitalized on that weakness, turning you into something that killed instead of something that healed.

stressing your bond with your lover, manipulating it so perversely and making you into two killers, two halves of a whole.

at least you had each other, he thinks.

(he later finds out that having each other was no solace, no escape. it was double the torture— physical and emotional— as they took one’s transgressions out on the other.)

and even though this has happened, that he barely recognizes the two souls standing in front of him, he feels whole again. because you are both alive and seemingly healthy and able to be reached.

bucky tucks the knife into his belt and extends his hand to you once again.

you take it, and the two of you melt away, darkness filling the space you once occupied.

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control Masterlist

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

Status: In Progress

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[embeanwrites]

Zima and his Handler (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

A/N: I think this is the longest one-shot I have ever written, and I wrote it like a person possessed. I haven’t written for Bucky since I was 13 so I hope I still got it.

No use of y/n or reader, the reader is a honeypot (prostitute) for Hydra.

No descriptions of rape but heavily implied. No description of suicide, but suicide idealation implied.

This story follows when they meet during Hydra, till after the events of Falcon and Winter Soldier in short spurts from Bucky's point of view.

Word Count: 7.9k

The Winter Soldier had various handlers that Hydra used with him. It’s not fair to say that any of them were his “favorite”. Some were crueler than others, but it was always a painful scale with very little rest or sometimes understanding why he was doing what he was doing. There was no growing use to his situation.

He learned early on that questions got him nothing but pain, and it wasn’t worth questioning the new world around him. He knew much more time must have passed since he first got his metal arm, but he was in no place even to begin to question it. The world was changing, and the technology was different than he had ever been aware of, but he never stayed unfrozen for long enough to decipher anything of value, nor did Hydra seem to think it was valuable to clue him in.

His handlers seemed to change with the times as well. Sometimes, he was used as an assassin, sometimes a bodyguard, sometimes something worse he’d immediately block out of his mind.

However, when it came to his handlers, there was one thing that he was painfully aware of constantly. It was the use of his trigger words, constantly echoing around him and forcing him to do whatever the handler had in mind, regardless if it was for the mission or not. There were more times than not he’d be forced into situations he knew deep down weren’t part of the missions, and parts of him would be used without his consent, but he had no say in any behavior of his own.

Except for one handler. It was rare the Winter Soldier was assigned to her, though, her missions required him to simply be an attack dog, on stand by protecting her while she completed her own missions that involved going to a back room. He would stand and wait, and in the morning, the two would go back to the base. He would never say anything to anyone, but near the beginning of their time together, he felt like he was wasted on these missions; any soldier could do what he was doing. But the more time they had together, the more he was thankful for the break and time with her.

The Winter Soldier found himself surprised during their first assignment together. At no point did his trigger words slip from her mouth. She looked at him with not even the expectation that he would do what he was told; she just…looked at him, and he listened.

It started off small. It became increasingly clear to her that he wasn’t going to talk unprompted, and even prompted, he’d rather hold his tongue than not. He’d rather not risk some form of torture from Hydra for saying something out of turn, but she seemed to have no problem risking it.

“Do you prefer Soldat or Zima?” She asked him one day as he drove them to their mission location. It had been hours of silence in the simple black car as he followed the map on a tiny electric screen. Looking at the map, the Winter Soldier had learned it would be at least another hour before they arrived. She allowed the question to sit between the two of them, but when it became increasingly clear he wasn’t going to answer, she followed up. “I don’t mind calling you something else if there is something you’d rather, but you have to tell me. Winter Soldier seems so long, and there’s quite a few of you, but only one you. If that makes sense.”

The Winter Soldier felt his hands tense around the steering wheel, mouth tense behind his mask. Something inside him swirled at the idea of her working with other super soldiers like him. It was one thing picturing a regular soldier, it was another to picture one of the many he would fight for training.

“I barely remember what I was named before I was this for Hydra. Do you remember yours?” She asked, receiving more silence from him. Finally, after a long stretch of silence, she seemed to let it drop. They arrived at what seemed to be another hotel. She sat and waited for him to come around and open her door. As they walked through the building, he slowly dropped further and further back from her, still close enough to keep an eye on her, but far enough that she could do her job without him intimidating the target too much.

Her words did, however, give him something to ponder. He didn’t know much about her, but he knew that the individuals who did the job she did rarely were mindwiped or tortured, it wasn’t cost effective like it was to do for the Winter Soldiers. As he moved silently behind her, he wondered where she came from, if she knew anything from her past, if she had been frozen through time like him, and if she was awoken to a jarring sensation of knowing time had passed on without you.

Based on what he saw from her, he didn’t think she was frozen, and she certainly didn’t have much training in self-defense. She also seemed comfortable with the technology they were around, confidently typing in the address on the small screen for him when he seemed to struggle with something that never made sense to him. He wondered if she had a family looking for her or if they thought of her as dead like him.

He knew these thoughts were traitorous, and if anyone knew he was having them, he would be lucky to walk away with no permanent injuries. If they found out, they would stop assigning them together, and they might even do something worse to her.

Dragging himself out of his thoughts, he watched her whisper something in the mark’s ear before letting out a giggle. She grabbed the man’s hand, and with a wolfish smile, she pulled him towards the rooms. The Winter Soldier watched as she spared him almost a second of eye contact. He nodded and slowly followed them, ready to stand post at the door until morning.

She would come out in the morning, slowly closing the door behind her. The two would make eye contact, and for a small moment, he could read guilt across her features as she handed him a small black piece of plastic that she had on a previous mission. She explained to him that it was something called a USB drive. Then she would take a deep breath, and he would lead the two back to the car.

He also learned that rarely would she pose her questions on the ride back to Hydra. Opting for a silent ride.

___________________________________________________________

If he had to guess, he would say it was roughly every 3 weeks or so he would accompany her on similar missions. Every time it was a different hotel, a different man, and different information the two would return with.

Hydra seemed to care little about how she would return and cared very little about what happened on the mission outside of the two coming back on time and with the promised information.

Some weeks when there seemed to be more time between their missions, the Winter Soldier would find himself anxious about her. He’d wonder if she was safe, he wondered if other soldiers were accompanying her on her missions and if they were as good at looking after her as he was. Did they answer her questions? Did she try to talk and connect with them like she did him? If he never answered her questions, would she keep asking, or would she eventually give up? Leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He allowed himself in his darkest moments to think that just maybe, for some strange reason, it was just him that she asked questions to, that she wondered about. That she was only interested in him and wanted to get to know just him. But it never took much conditioning for him to leave those thoughts behind, as pleasant as they seemed.

___________________________________________________________

He found himself in his usual spot near the end of their missions, standing still and silent outside of a room. Trying not to listen while she did her job for Hydra. He began wondering how many times she had done this type of mission as he stood outside another hotel room. If his memory served him right, which it rarely did anymore, this had to have been at least the 5th time they had done this.

He had grown used to it, and in a strange way, it was nice to visit a place where he wasn’t expected to kill anyone, just keep her safe and make sure she completed her mission. There was silence after her mission was complete, silence that the Winter Soldier found himself cherishing

“No!” Her scream ringed out as the Winter Soldier stood tense outside the hotel room. He had learned that some of the men she was with played rougher than others, and he had been told more than once by Hydra that her saying no didn’t mean anything.

“Please, no!” Her voice rang out again, he could hear shuffling in the room, a loud thump, a cry. His hands tensed at his side. He kept telling himself that this is just the game she is forced to play. This is her mission; maybe they decided beforehand this is some sort of roleplay the target was into, and she was simply playing a role. He had no right to listen in outside of making sure she completes her mission. He is just her bodyguard. She has a mission she must complete for the good of Hydra.

He is not supposed to interfere.

He is not allowed to interfere.

He is not permitted-

“Soldat!” Her voice is all it took.

It felt like a blink later. The Winter Soldier found himself standing in the room, gun in his hand, a dead body on the floor holding a knife that he had clearly used on her, and her crying in the bed with a long cut running down her bare chest, he took one glance to know that the cut would not kill her but had to hurt like hell. Blood was dripping down her body, staining the white bedding. She seemed barely aware that she was naked or bleeding everywhere.

“He…I’m so sorry. Winter Soldier. Please, I'm so sorry.” She cried. He stood still, watching the body bleed out, anything to not look at her body. He reached down and grabbed her undergarments from the ground. Without looking at her, he held them out. He listened to her sniffle before grabbing them. It felt like hours watching the dead body before her voice rang out again. “What are we going to do? Hydra will punish us.”

He found himself circling this idea, that they would punish her alongside him. All she did was cry, and he was the one who killed the target. He will be lucky if he sees her ever again. At that thought, he found himself spiraling. How could he ever think himself lucky to go on a mission? And why was she so sure she would be punished for his actions? This could not stand. The Winter Soldier couldn’t let this be the last time he protected her, for what if this happened again? Would the other soldiers do what needs to be done to protect her?

“What did we need?” His voice sounds unused even to his ears, he realizes it must have been days since he’s said anything. He sees her out of the corner of his eye, still in nothing but her undergarments, looking at him like he’s just done the craziest thing. A small voice in the back of his head reminds him that this might be the first time she’s heard his voice.

“I…I was supposed to steal his phone. It’s black and plastic; it looks almost like a brick but thinner, if that makes sense.” The Winter Soldier nodded, thankful for her description of the phone, and began looking through the discarded clothes; it didn’t take long for him to hold up a black square object. “That’s it, yes, but what if Hydra knows we killed him?”

There’s that word again, he thinks. We. She thinks of them as a partner in this, as if she held the gun.

“People die.” He answered simply with a shrug as he began handing her more of her clothes. She takes them and slowly gets dressed.

“People die of a heart attack! Winter Soldier, we shot him in the head.”

“Not we.” He finally finds himself saying.

“If I hadn't called for you, he would still be alive. Yes, we.” The Winter Soldier can’t deny her logic as much as he wants to. What he truly wants to tell her is that it is just him because she has never said his trigger words. That he pulled the trigger at all instead of standing outside the door and waiting for the man to be done, but he couldn’t. “Get dressed and get your stuff. I’ll take care of the body.” With that, she seems resigned to whatever comes next.

___________________________________________________________

The car ride is silent as normal. He catches her a few times out of the corner of his eye, rubbing where the wound is, her thick clothing hiding if it was still bleeding. Hydra would be unhappy that she’s been damaged, but they would take care of the wound easily. For a moment, he wondered if this would be the first time she’d return with a wound like this and if they would ask her questions about it or if they’d accept it as a part of her role. Would she be able to play it off correctly?

Though part of him feels responsible for her state. She didn’t even complete the mission the way she normally does, and she’s acting as if she did, being silent and almost as if she’s mourning something.

“We won’t tell.” He finds himself saying before he can stop himself. Almost immediately, her eyes are on him, wide and confused. He spares her a glance, hoping it puts her at ease. It doesn’t seem to work; if anything, she seems more wound up.

“They’ll kill me if they find out we lied.” He knows she’s right. If Hydra finds out they failed a mission and killed a target, she will be lucky to survive it, and he’ll be lucky to survive another punishment.

“We’re not lying, we’re just not telling.” He finally decides. Hydra will not ask the two point blank if the target is alive; all they care about is if they got the information they were promised.

“Are you sure, Winter Soldier?” She asked softly, aware of this slippery slope the two were staring at. If they start lying now, where will it stop? What will it get them? Surely there’s no happiness, and this life has already been so punishing, are they really willing to open themselves up to more?

“You can call me Zima. Soldat if you’re in trouble.” He says instead of a real answer, hoping she’ll understand what he’s saying. What he’s trying to give her. She continues to look at him, expression not changing.

“Okay, Zima. It stays between us.” She agrees, and he finds himself desperate to keep it between the two of them.

___________________________________________________________

Their next collection of missions remained similar. His eyes stay locked on her, his ears listen for her calling for him if she’s in trouble. She never calls for him now, but on the ride, he is always blessed with at least one question for him.

Most of the time, he remains silent or shrugs. It’s rare she’ll ask a question that he genuinely has an answer to.

Sometimes, he finds himself wishing he had the answer, just to see the excitement on her face when he answers her.

Zima, do you remember where you’re from?

How did you lose your arm, Zima?

Did you have a big family or a small family before this, Zima?

Nothing would swirl of his identity before he was the Winter Soldier. Sometimes, there would be glimpses in his few hours of sleep, but he’d lose any real connection by the time he was awake. It was on their fourth mission since killing the target that he was finally asked a question he could answer.

“Do you have a favorite food?” Her voice was small next to him, he fought the urge to shrug his shoulders. This was a simple question, surely one he could answer even if he wasn’t 100% sure his answer was even true. He could name one of the few foods Hydra fed them, but that didn’t feel genuine.

“I…I think I like coney dogs.” He finally answers with as much confidence as he can muster, still not really sure what the taste is on his tongue and why he seems to remember it, but he knew it was something he must have enjoyed prior to Hydra, he just wished he could remember more to give her.

“What’s a coney dog?” She asked with a giggle. The Winter Soldier feels as if he’s been struck by lightning with that sound. He had never heard her genuinely happy, and even though it was so small, he felt electric that he was trusted with that sound. He wanted to sit in this car forever just being able to answer her questions. He wanted to bottle up that sound and save it to listen to before missions, when they’re apart, to have something to hold on to, something that Hydra cannot take from him.

“I don’t remember, but I think I used to like them.” He finally answered. She hummed and looked forward in the car.

“I hope one day you get to have another one.” She finally answered after a long pause as they got closer to the hotel. He fought with his own internal monologue, desperate to say something else to keep her laughing and talking, but he had nothing. Just the hope that on the next car ride, he’d be able to answer her next question for her, and he’d be able to hear her laugh once more.

___________________________________________________________

He’s sure it’s been months since he’s seen her. Maybe longer. It’s become even more impossible for him to get time straight; the more he is frozen and wiped, the more confused he finds himself becoming. Every time he sees her, she is not aged, but he knows she’s not frozen. Are they freezing him for just a few weeks at a time? Why? Why are they bothering to freeze him when he can do missions, he can train, and more importantly, he can fight between missions?

Since meeting her, he has found himself asking more and more questions, always keeping them inside, yet they were still bubbling around him, now more than ever. It makes him want her. He finds himself needing her. He has become almost desperate for her but hides it within himself. He needed to tell her about what had been happening. Maybe she can make sense of the stories he’s been hearing.

He knows there is no way he will be assigned to a mission with her right now. Not while his main objective remains to kill Captain America with Pierce breathing down his neck for a successful outcome, but he needs her to know what’s happening, and before he can fully understand his actions, he once again lies in order to protect her.

He is silent as he walks through the quarters she is kept. He had swiped the key to her room off a guard almost a full day ago, waiting to see if he got caught with it between training and mission briefs. He’d rather just get him in trouble instead of the both of them if it gets to it, but no one seems to notice or maybe care.

He is vaguely aware that there’s a chance that she won’t be behind the door, that she’ll be on a mission with a different Winter Soldier, but this could be his last chance before they wipe his mind again, his only chance to tell someone what’s happening.

Slowly, he opens the door and he finds himself letting himself slightly relax when he notices that she is there, sitting on the cold gray floor. He makes quick work of closing the door behind him, leaving it unlocked just to make sure he’s not caught in here stuck.

Her eyes are instantly on him and stuck on him, wide and almost haunting. She looked more unkempt than usual, but he supposed if she didn’t have a mission, why would Hydra waste resources keeping her pretty.

“Zima?” She asks. He hears a slight fear in her voice. He realizes that in some fucked up way she might think he is here to kill her or hurt her, a punishment from Hydra considering their partnership on missions. A reminder that while he is there to protect her, he would not hesitate to stop her if she ever went against Hydra. He did not have the time or vocabulary to assure her of anything, and who’s to say he hadn’t hurt her before and Hydra wiped his memory?

“I don’t have much time. Can you remember something for me?” He asked her as quietly as he could manage, his heart pounding in his ears as she nodded. “My name is Bucky.”

Leaving Captain America, no…Steve. His friend. Someone from his past, before he was this monster created by Hydra. Someone who saw through the Winter Soldier and gave him back his name. Something he had wanted to give her for so long. On the shore, he left him with mixed feelings that were for certain. He fought internally with himself about what this meant.

He failed his mission; he could not return to Hydra. They would torture him or maybe kill him for a mistake this grave, especially considering he could’ve let Steve drown and just be done with it all.

But he knew that man, he knew Steve from before Hydra. Steve told him his name was Bucky and gave him a starting place to remember who he was before Hydra took everything from him.

He wondered if they would assume he died or if they would know he deserted.

He wondered what would happen to her.

Would she manage to escape? Would they torture her for information on him? Surely, they didn’t know that the two were close. Surely, they wouldn’t think he would tell her his plan, certainly because he didn’t even have a plan. There was no universe where he could’ve predicted this outcome.

He allowed himself a moment, a fleeting thought that maybe he could just rescue her. Kill whatever soldier was assigned to her next on a mission and just take her and run. Surely he’s not the first to run from Hydra, and certainly they’d just replace her and move on with their day.

But if he goes back and tries to get her, he could risk her life even further.

And he had a spiraling thought that maybe she only talked to him to give herself some sort of break from their missions. That maybe the closeness was all in his head and maybe seeing him again would torture her, would scare her.

And he just wasn’t ready.

“James, is there anyone left on your list you’d like to make amends to? Real amends.” His therapist's voice brings him back into her office. He is exhausted and done with these court-mandated therapy sessions. He’s tired of other people telling him what to do and how to feel. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. It had been better than therapy (in his opinion) putting the ex-Hydra agents in their place.

“I don’t know.” He finally answers.

“Really? There’s no one you can think of that you’d like to make amends with. Non-violent amends with.” She tries again, and Bucky sighs.

“I don’t know, Doc. Do you have someone in mind?” He finally looks at her, and she holds out her hand for his notebook. With a sigh, he handed it over and watched her slowly flip through it before looking at him with a tired look in her eyes.

“Hmm, I think you already have someone in mind, James. Why don’t you go talk to her?” His therapist says as she throws the notebook back to him, and he catches it with both hands. He knows she’s right, that she’ll continue to haunt his nightmares and be on his mind till he confirms she was okay and she was safe.

He knew from his own…research (definitely not stalking) that she had managed to escape Hydra in all the chaos he and Steve caused and seemed to have a semi-normal life now, and who was he to stomp in on her normalcy and demand to make amends?

He wasn’t sure if she’d even want to see him or if seeing him would throw her into a bad state. He had his fair share of PTSD from his time with Hydra, and the idea of reconnecting in a positive way with any part of his Hydra past made him feel nauseous.

“It’s not as simple as just going to talk to her.” He finally answers, folding his hands in his lap, eyes fixated on his black vibranium arm, wondering if she’d recognize him with the different arm and hair.

“Why not?” She asks, and he watches her twirl her pen in her hand, knowing if he doesn’t start talking soon, she’ll start passive-aggressively taking notes like he hates to try to pull anything out of him.

“What if she doesn’t want to see me?” He asks.

“Then you leave, James. But I think for your own sake, you need to at least try.”

___________________________________________________________

“At least try.” He mumbles under his breath as he stands outside of her apartment, almost sarcastically. I mean, truly, what did his therapist know about the two's relationship? Seeing him would bring up a whole host of bad feelings for her, something he’d never want to cause, but a very selfish part of him was curious about how she was doing and if she could fill in the gaps for any of his memories.

Bucky took his time walking through the building and looking around her apartment. It was nice; the building was old but had a sort of old school flair that he really enjoyed looking at for the past 10 minutes, as he definitely wasn’t stalling. He let himself wonder what she did for work, if she had any roommates, if life was being kind to her.

It wasn’t until his hand was forced that he had realized how scary this moment actually was. As her door finally opened and she walked out, it took them both no time to recognize each other. She had stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed him, and he couldn’t help but drink her in. For a split second, Bucky couldn’t believe it was her. She looked the same to him; her hair was a little different, but he imagined she did it for the same reason he did. Just to have the illusion of freedom and choice, something to change for himself. She was dressed as if she was leaving, but her bag dropped to the ground the longer she looked at him. It looked like her, healthier, but still with the same wild look he sometimes finds in his own eyes. He feels like he can see the wheels turning in her head.

Why was he here?

Was he still with Hydra?

Was he going to kill her?

Finally, he forced himself to look her in the eyes, and he realized immediately she was crying.

“Are you here to kill me?” She finally asked, her voice coming out shaky. Bucky recognizes the panic, and for a moment, he wonders if she knows about him going after members of Hydra. If she thinks for a single second he blames her for anything that happened to them and that he would come to punish her he would never forgive himself. The thought hurts him more than he thought it would, but he pushes it aside as quickly as possible in order to comfort her.

“No, no, not at all. I promise. I just-” But that seemed to be all she needed because the moment he confirmed that he wasn’t here to hurt her, she practically jumped to him. Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and pulling herself against him. It didn’t take him long at all to return his arms, more loose than her in fear of hurting her, but still around her.

___________________________________________________________

“Did I ever hurt you?” He finds himself asking, he still isn’t sure if he wants the true answer. He’s unsure if he can live with the idea that he hurt her. He watches her as she continues to pick at the fries on her plate. This was the second time the two had reconnected, and he had suggested the two get a bite to eat when he showed up at her apartment for the second time, this time being brave enough to knock. She nodded slowly and followed him out.

He had been more nervous this second time, now that he knows that some part of her trusts him he finds himself worried he’ll screw it up. That this fragile relationship the two are building will shatter at any moment, leaving him without anyone once again. They had arranged to meet up, to talk and try to be…normal, but Bucky still found himself struggling around her. His memories were still fragmented, but he wasn’t even sure how she was holding up with hers.

“No.” She finally answered. “I don’t think you ever even touched me, even in passing. You always let me lead.” This was news to him. He always felt so close to her and in control, but he guessed the proximity was enough for him to make it feel wrong and different from his usual missions.

“Did any of the Winter Soldiers hurt you?” He asks.

“Depends on your definition of hurt, I guess.” This answer surprises him, and he allows the silence to sit around them, hoping she would continue. “I mean, Bucky, come on, it’s not a secret what my job was.”

For a moment, he sees red. The idea that the other soldiers were putting her through the same torture Hydra did. That they saw her as nothing more than some toy, something that they could use and have and do whatever they pleased. That she was abused for other people’s pleasure makes him feel sick to his stomach to this day. It’s not until her hand finds his flesh one that he snaps out of his thoughts.

This is the first time since she hugged him that he’s touched her, the second time probably total throughout the whole time they’ve known each other, and it feels electric. He still feels the guilt bubbling in him, that she was being used and hurt, and he truly did nothing to stop it.

“It wasn’t your fault, Bucky.” She reminds him, and he finds himself smiling despite himself.

“You sound like my therapist.” He groans, and she laughs.

“Good, it means what I’m saying is right. I mean it, though; without you, I can think of a dozen different times I might have died.” She said with a smile. “Can I ask you a question now?”

“Of course.” He answered, almost excited at this sense of normalcy between the two of them, hoping that just like before, he’d be able to answer her questions.

“Did you escort any of the other girls?” She asked softly, thumb rubbing small circles against the back of his hand, his food completely forgotten as he tried to remember despite being distracted by her touch.

“No, I don’t think so,” He answered hesitantly. “A lot of my memories from Hydra are fractured. I can remember the people I hurt as the Winter Soldier, but sometimes the details of the mission I’ve lost them. I don’t think I ever escorted anyone but you.”

She nods at his answer, satisfied with it as she continues finishing her fries. There’s still a question bubbling under his skin, threatening to ruin their time together, but he can’t find the strength to ask, at least not yet.

“Can I ask you another question?” He asks and she nods. “When I came to tell you my name…was that the first time I had been to your quarters?” He watches her carefully, but she kept her hand on top of his. He watches as she picks her words carefully.

“It was the first time you had been to my quarters, yes.” He’s not blind to what she’s implying, but he looks at her until he continues. “Sometimes, Hydra would send other soldiers to visit me both as a punishment for me and a reward for the soldier, but no you had never been one of them.”

“When I showed up, is that what you thought was happening?” He asks, even though he already knows the answer. She sighs.

“Yes, but the thought didn’t last long. I never thought you would hurt me, ever. I still don’t.” She watches him closely as her words sink in. He has every reason to believe her, but he still finds it hard to believe, so he nods and gets back to eating. She follows his suit, clearly used to his silence.

___________________________________________________________

“You know I’ve been meaning to ask, did you ever get your coney dog?” She asked as they turned the corner. This time, they had decided to skip the food. She said she had somewhere she wanted to show him, and he was happy to follow along. He found himself not surprised by her question, he’s since learned since they started getting to know each other that she just seems naturally curious about the world with a memory sharp as a tack. She was always able to recall little things he had mentioned, he wondered if that’s why he trusted her with his name way back when because he knew she wouldn’t forget.

“I, uhh, no, not yet.” He said with a laugh. “I don’t think they’ll hold up as well as I’d remembered.” She hums and nods, seemingly satisfied with his answer.

“Do you have a new favorite food?” She asks as she continues looking straight. For a moment in Bucky’s mind, he feels like they’re back in that car, him driving them on a mission with her trying to learn a little about him. Either as a distraction or as a genuine interest.

“I really enjoy plums.” Bucky is surprised when she stops dead in her tracks and looks at him. For a split second, he’s worried he’s said the wrong thing, but within seconds, she’s laughing at him. Full-blown laughing, hands on her knees, tears in her eyes, the whole package and he can’t help the grin that finds itself on his face. “What?” He asks with a chuckle as she keeps going.

“I’m so sorry…I just, one second.” She said, trying to catch her breath. “I’m really sorry, Bucky, that is just the oldest man answer I’ve ever heard in my life.” She said with a cackle, and he couldn’t help himself and joined in on her laughing.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m over 100 years old. I’m allowed to enjoy my plums, okay! They’re good for your memory, and they’re healthy!” With his explanation, she continued laughing. “Oh my god, okay, I get it, let’s go; show me what you wanted to show me.” He said, gesturing for her to keep walking.

He follows her slightly behind, just one step behind. Overly cautious and knowing what following directly behind her could mean for the both of them, but not wanting them to take up the whole sidewalk. He wonders if she thinks about it too, how they must look together and how they used to look. He wonders if her actions haunt her the way he does him. He wonders if when she left Hydra if she had similar feelings of not deserving her freedom.

But this moment, answering her questions for her to laugh and tease him, something he’s unsure she would do to the Winter Soldier, causes a warm feeling in his chest, an understanding that while they are still the people they used to be, that they have changed. He is vaguely aware of these feelings that are making a home in his heart, and he’s unaware if they’ve always been there, but he’s starting to suspect they always were.

Especially as she opened the door and he stepped through. He immediately notices the smell, something so nostalgic that he immediately feels at home.

“I’m not sure why, but I just felt like you’d like this place. I found it on one of my walks.” He slowly walks past her, through the aisles, with her following close behind, wearing a sneaky smile.

The two were surrounded by a mix of old books from different genres, some in English, some not. Bucky was amazed by the collection, recognizing some of them from before he went to war. He felt as if he was walking through history, it was amazing.

“I know you’re from a different time, so I just think it’s cool because of history, but I just thought…that maybe you’d like it?” Even though it wasn’t a question, he could’ve sworn it was due to her nervousness.

“I love it, seriously.” He said, completely enamored with his surroundings. He watches her nerves go away with a small smile as she gestures for him to follow her deeper into the bookstore, and he happily obliges.

___________________________________________________________

It’s almost three weeks after the bookstore that they see each other again. Bucky had to go with Sam on a mission, cutting their time to short messages throughout the week instead of hanging out. There was a sense of nerves that had the unfortunate reminder of their time back in Hydra. The sinking feeling of something happening and him not being able to protect her was back in full force, and he had to fight the urge to call her at the end of every day, sticking to sporadic messages that hopefully didn’t feel as awkward to her as it did him.

All he wanted to know was if she was safe, just like before, but this time, there was more intent with it. He was remembering more of their time and the questions she asked, and their conversations finally got to stick with him; it was like they were building something that was a long time coming.

Finally, once he knew they were for sure coming back on a Tuesday, he asked her if she was free, but with her work schedule, they ended up not being able to see each other until Friday. Bucky had to fight the urge to just show up at her house and beg for forgiveness for needing to see her.

But he managed to wait, and once Friday rolled around, he showed up at her apartment, and the two of them made themselves comfortable on opposite ends of her couch, her cat in Bucky’s lap. The two of them did their usual of passing questions back and forth until a long pause brought Bucky’s biggest question to his mind.

“Can I ask you a really fucked up question?” He finally asked, feeling brave at this moment.

“I think all of our questions have been fucked up considering the our situation, but please let’s add to this.” She said with a watery laugh, clearly fighting off tears. Bucky took a deep breath, knowing he had to ask that he needed to know this answer and that he could no longer let this eat him up on the inside. Especially considering how their friendship is growing, he needs the answer before it’s too late, before it forms a black hole inside of him, tainting every action the two have.

“How come you never used my trigger words?” She freezes at his question, eyes remaining squarely on the floor, and he can barely believe he finally asked. He feels as if the silence between them is dangerous, as if she’s going to stand up and finally ask him to leave her alone. That all of this will be over and he will never see her again because he finally crossed that line.

“What if my answer is too fucked up?” She finally responded, doing nearly nothing to quell the rising feelings in his chest.

“Than it’s fucked up.” He decides, still desperate to know the answer.

“The trigger words were to control the Winter Soldier, but honestly, the worst thing you could’ve done to me is kill me, and that would’ve freed me from it all. From sleeping with all those men, from doing Hydra’s dirty work and being tortured. I would’ve welcomed the escape, Bucky.” Bucky allows the words to hit him, he understands what she means. He remembers missions where he was more careless in order to hopefully end his suffering with Hydra, but it never crossed his mind that she might be in a similar position.

“I know what you mean.” He whispers, understanding how she really viewed him during that time.

“But Bucky, I never thought for a second you would hurt me. The Winter Soldier…you protected me multiple times and were always as kind as you could be. I tried to never show favoritism to Hydra because I was afraid they’d stop assigning us together, but our car rides were the one break I got.” The words sit between the two; the truth Bucky probably could’ve figured out on his own, but it felt good hearing it from her.

“It never bothered you what I did?” He asks.

“Did it ever bother you what I did, Bucky?” She throws back, and he shakes his head. “We both were under terrible, horrible circumstances. Why on earth would I hold that against you?”

“I hold it against myself sometimes. I mean, I could’ve gotten us away during a mission; we could’ve run. I could’ve fought back.” He finally voiced.

“Right, because a man with a metal arm wearing all black clothes and a prostitute with no change of clothes would’ve been so hard for Hydra to find.” She said sarcastically, reaching over to put a hand on his thigh.

“I never thought of you like that.” He says with a mumble, unsure how she’ll react.

“Like what?” She asked, head cocked to the side.

“A prostitute. You were just doing a job required by Hydra. It didn’t reflect on you, at least not in my eyes.” He murmured, finally looking at her. Something had changed in her eyes at his words; somehow, they seemed softer, more understanding than before, as if how he viewed her had always weighed heavy on her.

“Oh, Bucky.” She said softly. She moved almost in slow motion as her hand found his and grasped it tightly. “If it makes you feel any better, I was so honored when you let me call you Zima,” The Russian sounded so familiar on her tongue to him, “I always thought of you as more than just the Winter Soldier; I knew you were in there somewhere and when you came to tell me your name was Bucky…Even though we didn’t see each other again from our time in Hydra, it did give me something to hope for.”

“You gave me something to hope for.” He finally said, trying to get his feelings across to her.

She simply smiles and squeezes his hand. He knows in this moment that those feelings constantly arising in him are some sort of love for her, for everything they’ve been through. He has no idea if she feels the same and wonders if he deserves her with the burden he’d be placing on her, but at this moment, it doesn’t even seem to matter. Because he loves her, and he knows it.

___________________________________________________________

Bucky wakes up in a bed, one that surely isn’t his as it’s far too soft. His memories of the night before slowly come back to him.

The two had talked late into the night, holding hands and clearing so much of the air left between them and their time in Hydra. A deeper understanding of the torture they went through and what each other meant to themselves. The reprieve she offered him and the safety he offered her.

He remembered insisting he wasn’t too tired to go back to his place, and he remembered her insisting that if he died going home from her place, she’d never forgive herself.

He remembered laughing but taking her up on the offer to spend the night.

He feels a slight pressure on his back, but when he begins to shift, the cat jumps off of him, and he lets out a chuckle as he watches the white cat make their way out of the room.

“She’s going to remember that.” Her voice supplied, and he flipped his body so he could look at her. She’s on the other side of the bed, looking at him with messy hair.

“Oh yeah?” He said with a smile.

“Oh yeah, Alpine holds grudges like nobody's business.” She said with a chuckle. He watched her gently shift. He knows at this moment that something has changed between the two, that their bond has changed, but he does not doubt that he will always be there for her, in any way she will allow.

“We didn’t have sex, by the way.” She blurts out in the silence, sitting up, causing Bucky to burst out laughing, blood clearly flooding her face and turning a darker shade. He’s almost positive his has turned red as well.

“Yeah, I do know that,” Bucky said, still laughing.

“I’m just…after everything, I don’t know if…” He watches her take a deep breath. “Bucky, if this…I mean, if we become a thing. I want you to know now that we may never have sex. I might never be okay or ready for it, but I do like you. I like you a lot, but I don’t want to lie to you or force myself to do anything I don’t want to do, so if you wish to just say friends, you have to say it now.”

“We could never touch, and I think I’d still be in love with you and happy to just be by your side, whatever that means to you.” He breathed out, almost surprising himself, but wholeheartedly meaning it. He watched the sunlight illuminate her surprised features.

“Yeah?” She asked, a smile like he’s never seen paint her face.

“Yeah.” He whispers out, and slowly, like she’s waiting for him to say no, she puts his hand on his cheek. He fights the urge to make any movement that might scare her as she leans in close, kissing him chastely on his chapped lips.

And it’s perfect and worth every bad moment the two had faced. All because he would get to come home to her and protect her. 

And it's all he had ever wanted.

[jesevans]

He gives her a place to lay her head. Then, he’s gentle with her while she sleeps, and not supposed to know it. That’s very interesting. The cabin in the woods is a cozy spot. Certainly not a hideout provided by Hydra. Something left over from his life as Captain America? What does it all mean?

Mission Control 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The man walks you straight through a yard and into the thicket of trees behind. If he wasn’t so confident, you would think he had no idea where he’s going. His hand stays locked around your arm as he has you staggering over peat and leaves.  

You come out on the other side of the trees to the open highway. A car zooms by but he doesn’t stop. He keeps going, the force of the cars whipping by blowing around you, horns honking. He pushes you towards the cement barrier. Before you can lift your leg, he lifts you. 

He puts you on the other side and follows. He doesn’t miss a step. On and on, across another three lanes and down into a ditch. Across the field. You look back and he yanks you, nearly taking you of your feet. 

A chill creeps through you, numbing you to the terror boiling in your gut. Your legs tremble but don’t stop either. You’re too scared to resist. 

The sky darkens and the moon peeks out from behind another line of pines. On and on. At last, your body gives out. 

Your legs burn as the fold. He catches you. He puts you over his shoulder and presses on. That’s when it really sets in. It’s happening. You don’t know what just that it isn’t good. Your body wracks as your tears flow free, rolling down to your hairline as you hang upside down. 

When he stops, you’re in a clearing. He puts you down. You sit on the dirt as he squats in front of you. The moonlight barely limns his figure. He reaches to his belt. He pulls out a pair of thick cuffs and dangles them. He tilts his head.  

You sniffle, “please, I won’t go.” 

He stares then slowly hooks them back on his belt. He stands and looks around. You hear him in the dark, twigs snapping, leaves rustling. You catch a glimpse of his shadow now and again. The crickets hum and dampness rises from the ground. 

A spark, then a full bloom of flame goes up. The fire casts a light over the barrier built with large rocks and the pile of thick sticks broken to fuel it. The night flickers with the cinder and he approaches you again. He moves you to sit closer to the heat. 

He lowers himself next to you, legs bent, arms resting on his knees. He just sits and watches the flames. You look down and slump. You’re exhausted. 

You flinch as he grips your shoulder. He lowers his legs, crosses them, and pulls you down until you’re on your side. He guides your head onto his thigh. He holds you there. He doesn’t need to give the order. 

The adrenaline never quite evaporates, merely recedes. Your eyes close on their own. You plummet into a pit of darkness. Your head and body ache with the sheer senseless sleep. 

You wake with a chatter. The man still sits. He hasn’t moved. You flutter your lashes at the lightening horizon. 

His hand drifts from your shoulder and crawls up your neck. He brushes along your cheek and over your hair. You hold your breath. Your scalp aches as you brace for another cruel yank. He retracts and pokes your shoulder instead. 

You sit up and stand only when he does. He reaches for you and you cower. He rips your knapsack from your arms as he spins you. He hurls it away into the trees. Then, it’s back to walking. 

You’re stiff from a night sleeping on the ground. Your clothes are damp from the dew and a frigidness lingers in your skin. He keeps you moving until the sun meets its apex. 

You come to a lot in the middle of another highway. It’s empty but for a black motorcycle. He marches you to it and guides you onto the back. He straddles the front and flips up the kickstand. You’re too tired to be confused, to wonder about how and why and what. 

He taps his shoulders. You hesitate but grab onto them. It might not be so bad to fly off but you’re still human. You still have that need to survive. 

He takes off with a roar of the motor. You yipe and squeeze tight. You fight against the wind and lean forward, hooking your arms around him as you feel your grasp slipping. He doesn’t seem to mind as you cling to him. He has a heart. You can hear it through his back. 

You close your eyes as the wind tunnels around you, whipping around the bike and your bodies. He’s a barrier to the brunt of it.  

He rides through the night and beyond. You have to keep awake to stay latched on. He keeps on and on, into another crowd of trees, one so dense that it darkens the daytime.  

When at last you are still, you as good as fall off the motorcycle. You stumble until he grabs onto you. He moves you in front of him and puts his hands on your shoulders. He leads you from behind. Twisting and turning you in a deliberate path.  

You look up at the faded planks on the side of the reclusive house. You clatter up the steps beside him. He stops and tugs the back of your jacket. You think he wants you to stay still. There’s a beep and something clicks. Then something else. 

You look around in confusion. He flicks your cheek. Hard. You wince and hiss and look forward. He points over your shoulder. You follow the gesture to the door as the latch rolls back on its own. 

You stop before the door and just stare. Where the walls are covered in wooden siding, it is metal. You gulp. He reaches around you, stepping flush to you. He pushes the handle down and shoves the door inward. His other hand nudges your lower back. 

You enter and automatic lights flash on. You gape at the room before you. It’s like any other cabin you’ve seen. On television, you were never rich enough for vacation homes. There’s a floral couch and a matching armchair on a round area rug, right before a fireplace, a table with a lamp by the chair. It’s all startlingly normal. Not like him. 

[angelsautumn]

[scandinavianfairytale]

All kings fall

Pairing: ex-Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: Uprising, getting caught, death toll: 4 so far, forced kiss

A/N: Part 2 :)

The day of coronation arrived. The plan was set in detail and the decoys were ready. Just as Leo predicted there was more than one volunteer. In fact, there were so many, you had to choose who will join you in the first line of defense.

“I think you’re supposed to be downstairs and give a speech.” Bucky joked as he joined you on the rooftop of the HQ. You glanced at him, furrowing your eyebrows.

“I don’t think there’s anything left to say. We all know why we’re doing this and what is in store for us.” You exhaled, nerves getting the better of you.

“Steve usually always gave a talk.” Bucky reminisced.

“I don’t think that’s the best comparison given the situation.”

“Perhaps, but at one point in our lifetime, he was good. I think we could all follow the lead of that man.”

You clicked your tongue at that.

“I know Steve loved you. You brought him back to the present and he saved me. There is still some good in him.” He pressed.

“Bucky!” You yelled in frustration, shutting him up. “You need to stop thinking that the Steve you knew is still alive. There’s no Steve, there’s just Captain Hydra. He didn’t save you because you’re his best friend, but because he wanted to use you in his own way.” Sharply inhaling, you continued. “And he certainly didn’t love me. Not in the way you are trying to convince me. He played a role and deceived us all. He killed Tony and took control of his technology, twisting it into this killing machine that is now killing people that your soldiers called family. Steve is dead. All there’s left is the man that needs to be overthrown and possibly killed.”

“Look. I get what you are trying to say, but I will always have his back. If it means that I need to catch him and throw him in prison to set him straight, that’s what I will try to do.”

“Even if it’ll get you killed.”

“Hey, some gamble still needs to be present.” Bucky smiled and you returned his smile.

“Come on, let’s get our soldiers and let’s start this uprising.” He said after a few moments of silence.

~The decoy squad~

Looking at the volunteers, you wondered about their lives before Steve turned evil. Thinking back to 17 days before, you looked at Timothy.

“Ma’am, I lost my parents, my friends and I don’t want their deaths to be in vain. We are at war and we are fighting for our lives. It’ll be my pleasure to fight by your side and it’ll be my honor to die for the cause.” Timothy said as the first volunteer. He still wore his friend’s army jacket. Several people stood up then and formed a line. Your jaw quivered, these were people that lost everything because of your ex-boyfriend and they were ready to give their lives in order to get back their independence. Even if it only meant dying on their own terms.

“So…” you coughed, gaining everyone’s attention. “Bucky joked that I should give a speech. But I feel like that will be too basic. But maybe right now, that’s what we need – to feel a bit basic.” Pausing and meeting Bucky’s eyes, you continued.

“I know you all know what we’re walking into. In the best scenario we will be captured and thrown into prison. In the most probable case we will die. I’m aware that you know this. But I just wanted to say thank you for standing here. For going through the last eight months with us. Thank you for trusting us and I hope that we will see the end of this resistance. I pray that we will be successful.”

Everyone nodded and a few said their own prayer.

~In the city – coronation~

“Captain, the festivities are beginning. It’s time for us to make an appearance.” Thompson entered Steve’s penthouse overlooking the city.

“Perfect. Are the agents stationed around the venue?”

“Yes. I made sure that only the best are on guard.”

“Then let’s make me king, shall we?” Steve smirked.

King Steve. It had a nice ring to it. When he first thought of it, he thought it was tacky. But if history taught him anything is that a man can do whatever he wants, if he submits everything and everyone to his will. And he did that. So why not make himself king? There hasn’t been a king of the US ever. Might as well start a kingdom.

Taking the podium, he looked at his followers and the people too afraid to fight back. He smirked again, taking in a deep breath.

“Thank you for joining me today. Today will go down in history of the new world as I declare America as a kingdom and myself as king.”

“You can’t do that!” Someone in the crowd yelled. Steve chuckled and suddenly a bullet shot out of thin air, shooting the woman that interrupted the speech.

“Does anyone want to say anything else?” Steve smiled again, taunting the people before him. “Guess not. Then let’s continue.” He walked to the chest that stood on the podium.  Taking the gold crown from it, he put it on his head and walked back to the microphone.

“I do promise to be a merciful ruler.” Pausing for dramatic effect, he continued. “As long as you stay in line.”

“Let the festivities begin.” Steve smiled as cannons shot out confetti. As the first blast shot out, Steve felt a bullet pierce his shoulder. Immediately Brock and Thompson were next to him, all three observing their surroundings.

Suddenly a rain of bullets shot out from different directions, all targeting the podium. Thompson was the first one to fall, however Brock and Steve were too quick. Brock used Thompson as a shield, to jump off the podium and into the mass of people. The bullets stopped and Steven was quick on his feet, running in the direction from which the first bullet was fired.

He could see his agents running in the other directions and he knew that whoever was stupid enough to try and attack will soon be captured and dealt with. He will make an example of them. As he made it out of the crowd, he knew he’ll be an open target, but Steve also knew that the shooter will also reveal their location. He will gladly make himself a target to get his hands on the traitor.

Like clockwork, he heard the shot and evaded the bullet just in the nick of time.

“Whoever you are, you’re not very smart. Don’t you know who I am?” Steve taunted.

“I know you’re somewhere close.” He smirked, making the shooter nervous as they moved from their position. Unfortunately, Steve was quicker and as the shooter stood up, a kick was dealt at their side. The man collapsed, clutching his side as the rib broke from the impact.

“You must be stupid to think that you’d outrun and outsmart a super soldier.”

“Boss. You won’t believe who I just caught.” Brock’s voice called from the ear piece.

“I caught one too. Make sure that whoever is still alive, stays alive. I want answers and I want to make sure something like this never happens again.” Steve responded back and grabbed the man lying on the ground.

~Penthouse~

“Well, well, Sweetheart, I thought I’d never see you again.” You froze as you heard his voice again. It’s been eight months, but his voice still made you freeze. Steve deposited a bloodied Timothy next to you and sat on his couch. Motioning to Brock, he dragged you in front of Steve.

“I knew we’d meet again.” He leaned down to stare at you. Defiantly you raised your chin.

“Congratulations, maybe you should open a psychics shop and do readings for other people.”

“I see you still have a mouth on you.” Steve leaned back, unamused.

“Did you think I’d magically change my personality?”

“Well, I hoped that you’d come to your senses by now and join me.”

“That will never happen.” You glared at him.

“I can be quite persuasive. Besides, your little revolt failed, what’s left for you now?” He chuckled at your resistance.

“I will never stand by your side again, Steve.”

“It’s King Steve, even to you.” Steve grabbed your chin, kissing you forcefully.

“I would rather die than to call you that.” You spat at him.

“Get used to it, Sweetheart. This is the new reality.” He smirked at you.

“Don’t you know your history? All kings fall and you will too.”

“I’m tired of your bullshit.” Motioning again to Brock, he picked you up by your tied wrists. “Get her out of my sight. Once she’s ready to behave, you can bring her back.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading! :)

The GIF belongs to the creator & the crown picture was taken off the MMA official site :)

So...yes, I will write another part at least :D I am finally having some fun with writing again 💙 Inspiration today was this song :)

[winterzxsoldierz]

War Child

Part one

Bucky Barnes x (Fem) Reader

Avengers x (Fem) Reader

Warnings: Blood, mention of deaths, other creepy hydra shit, bad language words (lol) and a lot more other warnings, so be prepared.

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton (Sometimes) Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner (Sometimes) Thor Odison, Loki Laufeyson, Peter Parker, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Bucky Barnes, Yelena Belova, Arnim Zola,

Description: You're a hydra experiment or had been one since you were young, For years you lived within the cold walls of Siberia and when you finally get free, faces from the past and demons come out to haunt you Reader is an enchanted superhuman, she has the super soldier serum giving her, super speed, super strength, a healing factor, fast metabolism, endurance, strong lung capacity & etc, she also has both fire and ice magic. The time line in this will review the past and present. Reader can look anyway you want. Her soon love interest will be Bucky. Authors Note: Please know that none of these characters belong to me, they belong to marvel, Y/N is your character of choice. also your thoughts will be orange, Bucky's thoughts will be blue and the others will be purple

Avengers tower present 9:34 am Avengers pov

Gathered around table enjoying breakfast and conversation sits the avengers, everyone seems happy, Bucky and Loki bantering with one another about who can do bad better, Steve acting like a mom and Tony being the overgrown brat, Wanda, Natasha and Yelena talking quietly amongst each other in sokovian, then there's Peter, Pietro, Sam and Thor arguing about how many bad guys they can beat in a fight, like family they're fun and chaotic. Everything seemed to go quiet when the leather jacket wearing, eye patched man walks in with a file and flash drive, the atmosphere once relaxed and playful now tense and serious, as all eyes land on the director Nick Fury. "Hope i'm not souring the mood." he says his tone, dripping with his usual uncaring sarcasm. "Anyways." he continues, "We have a problem, a big one, a loose cannon hydra related one." He sets down the file on the middle of the table and Bucky is the first to grab it, the minute he opens it, the color from his face drains, there it was a whole section dedicated to you, a ghost is what you are, one he was made to train when he was The winter soldier, a deadly weapon is what you became, just like him, but unlike him, he was captured, but you, you were born and raised into a hell, and turned into something so deadly.

Steve looks at Bucky and raises a brow in concern and curiosity, Steve pauses debating whether he should say anything but he decides to anyway, "Hey Buck, you alright, you look a little pale." Bucky snaps out of his current thoughts and glances at Steve and the rest of the team and he swallows, a shaky sigh leaving his lips and he says "I know her, i knew her." Every member of the team gives each other looks before nodding and taking turns to look at the entire file and Sam speaks "So where do we start?"

Italy present

Your Pov I arrive back into my rented apartment, after getting some needed food and water, i knew my time here in Italy was running thin but there was something about this place i liked, i couldn't get comfortable though, it was only a matter of time before the devil came knocking. After heating up a simple tv dinner, i sit on the small couch in my living room watching the old school box television, it's on the news channel, the headlines read "Avengers strike once again saving over a hundred innocent civilians from a hostage situation with the terrorist group known as HYDRA." A sigh leaves me and i start eating as i change the channel to a cartoon, it wasn't one i've seen before, it was a blonde with really long hair and a pretty purple dress, now interested i continue to watch the movie and finish my dinner, soon i set my plate aside and just watch tv, i was enjoying the movie more than i'd like to admit. Berlin 1953 (Past & your nightmare) "Papa, i don't understand what you want me to do, you little voice trembles as you look up at the man in front of you, he stare you down and pats you head, his German accent thick as he speaks, "In time, you will learn to master the gift i have given you my child." a grin spreads on Zola's lips, to you it seemed innocent but only if you knew it was anything but innocent.

Your Pov (Present) I jolted awake in a slight sweat, my eyes dart around the room, weariness and confusion etched on my features, i thought i was back hom-there, but i'm in my living room, i'm in Italy, i swallow and wipe my forehead with the sleeve of my sweater and i stand up, my steps are silent on the wood floors as i walk into the kitchen, i fill me a glass of water and gulp it down as if i was a man stuck in the desert. my hands are shaky as i set the glass down and stare at the dark curtained covered windows. "He's gone, no longer here." i tell myself and i make my way to my bathroom, a shower was much needed to calm myself.

Berlin 1954 (Past & Bucky's nightmare) "Soldat! you're back with the stuff." Zola hums in approval and takes the metal case from the winter soldier, he snaps his fingers for the soldier to follow him and the soldier complies without question. Zola leads the soldier into the lab, for a moment the soldier tenses, he didn't think he had another procedure today but then his eyes falls onto you, a girl strapped down onto a table asleep, he blinks, he couldn't tell if it was worry, or surprise but he manages to school it like he was taught, the soldiers eyes follow Zola as he pulls out the bag of super serum, it was a cheap one, not to affective but it'll still work, just not like his, the soldier watches as Zola sticks it into an IV like bag and he watches as Zola stick the IV into you and slowly the serum makes it way to your skin and finally it slips into your blood stream making you jolt in pain and cry out.

Avengers tower (Present) Bucky's room Bucky's Pov His eyes snap open quickly and they dart around, checking for any signs of danger or anyone one at all, nothing it's all silent except for his racing heart and his own breathing, his brows are furrowed as he recalls the nightmare, that day, the day when Karpor made him bring that serum to Zola, that day where your life would change for ever and not for the good, a wave of guilt floods through Bucky as he thinks about that day, how he just watched, and stood there as that evil son of a bitch gave you that serum with no remorse as he hurt and changed you drastically. Bucky knew he had to find you, hell he knew you were lost and confused like he was and like he had steve, you'll have him.

Let me know what you think, i will definitely be making different parts to this story, i'm pausing my other story to work on this one since i had this longer and like this better. Part two is being worked on so stay tuned.

Tag list: @sapphirebarnes i know you wanted to be tagged in my other post but i'm keeping that on hold right now, so i hope you like this one just as much.

[georgiapeach30513]

Mark My Territory

Summary: You evaded him. Again. This constant game was being played of him getting closer to you before you were ripped from his grasp. Again. He won’t miss this time you sly little fox. Your scent is etched in his brain more than anything else in the world. He won’t let his handlers stop him. He will have you. And he will make sure you stay put. You are his…

Pairings: Captain Hydra/Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: dark!explicit

Warnings:  dark, explicit language, explicit sexual content, non con/dub con, kidnapping, throwing, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.9K

Steve Rogers Masterlist

Captain’s dark blue eyes refocus as he removes his death glare of his next victim.  His fingers still cling to his neck, but they soften enough for a gurgling sound to emit from his disgusting throat.  Lifting his head fully up, the Captain gazes at his surroundings.  He felt it.  There was a shift.

“You fucking psycho,” the man in his grip screams, but the Captain squeezes as tight as he possibly can, cutting off all air to his lungs, before letting his lifeless body fall down to the pavement.  

Now he could focus.  Pulling his mask down, he takes a long sniff of air before his mouth turns up into an evil smirk, “Son of a bitch,” someone in the control center screams.  “He’s got that crazed look on his face.  He senses her.”

Popping his neck, he lifts his mask back up, and stalks down the road, while a team is sent in to retrieve him.  He was useless when he could feel you.  “Get someone in there now!” Nobody wanted to get in between you and the Captain.  There were always a few casualties.  A few soldiers were always lost.  Only one could ever get his focus away from you.

“He can’t find her.  We’re going to have to change her location again,” he takes a slow pause, seeing the Captain’s body cam.  “Too late,” he groans.

You stand up slowly out from under the table.  Trembling a bit, even if you had a feeling that he would never physically hurt you.  His height was vast and he was just as broad.  Terrifying and ways, and you weren’t sure what he wanted from you.  He always just stood there in front of you.  “Won’t you show me what you look like?” He shakes his head no, but extends his hand towards you.

“I don’t know what you want,” he wiggles his fingers, grunting a bit.  “Are you wanting me to hold your hand?” One nod, and another grunt.  Gulping, you step closer, tickling your fingers against his, and a shift happens to his eyes.

“Do I know you?” His free hand starts to pull down his mask as men surround you.  Jerking you away from him, and he releases an animalistic scream, throwing men aside.  And when someone grabs you from behind, dragging you his yells become growls.  

Lifting up grown men to toss onto the road.  His eyes hardly ever leave you.  You feel pity for him.  He was wanting to protect you.  He didn’t want their hands on you.  “NO!” He screams as a hand covers your mouth.  “MINE!” 

That was a turn of events.  He felt ownership over you.  Why?  Why did he feel connected to you?  He always found you.  Marching over to one man, the Captain’s fingers circle his neck as he turns back to you and your captor.  The man raises his gun pointing it at your head, and the tiniest little whimper squeaks out of your throat.

“NO!” He screams, cracking that man’s neck like it was a toothpick.  “NO hurt!” Tears drift down your cheeks, wetting the man’s knuckles.  There was something about his eyes.  “No,” he wasn’t yelling anymore he was pleading.  “Mine.”

“Soldier, we can’t take a civilian.  You have to go back,” he shakes his head no, a choked mine whispers at the man.  “She stays.”

Stays?  An option to take you wasn’t on the table.  You weren’t going anywhere.  “You might as well let him keep his little pet.  How many more missions are we going to have where he senses her?” Someone speaks into the ear of your captor.  “What’s the worst that could happen?  Might work out for our benefit if he knows he gets to go home to that piece of ass.”

“Soldier, at ease,” the soldier shakes his head no, repeating that you were his.  “At ease.  Get in the truck.  She’s coming with us.”

“No!” You wail, but the soldier walks over to you.  Lifting you up to throw you on his shoulder.  “No!  Let me go.  I am not yours!” 

“Mine!” 

Hitting him felt like he was made of bricks.  Solid and thick.  He makes no sound of distress, just keeps walking.  You could practically feel his smirk as he struts to the truck.  “Let me go!  Put me down!”

“No,” gone is the anger.  It was lighthearted.  This was sick.  This is not the way you wanted to die.  Become a play toy for this psycho that was going to do unthinkable forms of torture to you.  

——

The Captain grunts as he walks through the doors of the compound.  He had one thing on his mind, and it had nothing to do with taking his gear off, and being checked over.  A doctor comes over to his side, but he pushes him away.  

“You need to be cleaned, Captain.”

“Mmm,” he growls, continuing to his new mission.  It's what he deserved.

“Oh, let him have his fun,” an older man steps into the light, smiling at him.  “Having that stupid girl here is making things run so smoothly.  Let him pound into her tight twat.  Maybe eventually he’ll literally split her in half and we won’t have to worry about it again.  No more distractions.  Go ahead, Captain.  Fuck your girl.”

He grunts again.  He didn’t fuck you.  He owned you.  He loved you, and he could think of nothing more than sinking into your warmth.  Could already feel your velvety walls cling tight to his aching cock.  Getting out of his suit was going to be a bitch.  But you were worth it.  

He opens the door to your shared cell, and you hurl a shoe at him.  He catches it.  He always does.  Popping his neck, he curls his finger towards you, pointing at his suit, “Go to hell.”

Rolling his eyes, the Captain starts to take his suit off, with much more difficulty than if you would just do it for him.  “Just go ahead and kill me, you fucking asshole.”

“No.”

“Say something more than no or mine.”

“No.”

“Fucking brain dead asshole,” he charges towards you, slamming your body up against the wall.  Using his thick thigh to spread your own apart, he slips his hands between them, rubbing over your panty clad mound.  

“Creep.”

“Mmm,” your body betrayed you every fucking time.  If only you could see his face.  You never got to see it.  Hydra had him muzzled up like the feral dog he was.  

“Ahh,” he squeaks, pushing aside your panties.  Pushing in two fingers.  Your body hates you.  Told on you every time with its loud squelching.  “Mine.”

“It’s my pussy, you weirdo,” he pumps into you harder, hearing you whimper, and grunts at your pleasure.  “It’s mine.”

“Mine!” Slipping in a third finger in makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, and he presses his palm against your bundle of nerves.  Driving into you with such force, you couldn’t argue.  He was playing unfairly.  Your pussy didn’t have a brain.  And right now, your own brain couldn’t think.

His arm pinning you to the wall, drifts up higher.  Adding pressure to your neck as your body starts to tingle.  Pushing you further and further into euphoria before he pulls out of you, and tosses you onto the bed.

“My god!  You fucking asshole!  Quit doing that shit.  If you’re going to make me wet, let me come.”

“Mine,” he growls, pulling off his suit into shreds.  That glorious cock bounces up once free, and you have a giant urge to bite it, and also lick off every morsel of precum.  He didn’t require your mouth.  He just wanted to edge you until you passed out.  You swore he finally let your body come once your eyes closed.

“Bet you don’t even know how to make me come,” the Captain chuckles under his mask.  Stomping over to the bed.  Reaching his hand towards you, his thick fingers grab onto your ankle.  Dragging your body down, he flips you over to your knees.  Trying to get away, he smacks you hard on the ass.  “Prove it then.”

He gives your weeping cunt a few slaps before driving into your warmth.  Giving you no time to adjust.  It was an assault on your mind more than anything.  You hated him.  Hated being used as a cocksleeve, but damn if he didn’t stretch you out in the most beautiful fucking way.

Your walls hug tight to him, begging for his touch, and sucking him back into your depths every time he pulls out.  Your pussy needed him, and you hated her for it.  Hated that you knew he was close to returning because she was already pooling slick into your panties.  

As if your crooked panties were keeping you too far away from him, he rips your off own clothes, and never misses a thrust.  Grabbing onto your hips, the Captain uses you to fuck him.  You hoped you had pushed him enough to let you come because you were right there.  You are tired of his games, and just needed relief.  

Whimpering out nonsensical words when he pulls out, and flips you on your back, “Told ya, you fucking pussy.  Don’t even know how to make a woman come.  You piece of shit.”

He rips your legs apart, pinning them on the bed beside your ears and stabs into you.  His whole weight on you made you feel even more magical.  You hated him, and your body.  Hated that he was doing this to you.  You were going to die in this cell with someone who didn’t even talk.  

“You.  Don’t.  Know.  How.  To.  Make.  A.  Woman.  Come,” each word was drug out with every push into your wet heat.  You feel your juices leak down your ass and onto the bed behind you.  It was cruel.  You just hope taunting him was enough.  “Claim my pussy then.”

“Mine!” He growls, pushing into you hard.  “Mine!  Mine!” You start to see stars.  This was it.  He was finally going to let you come.  It felt like years of no real satisfaction.  Spewing your arousal everywhere, speaking in tongues as you clench your eyes closed, but he keeps going harder.

“Mine!  All mine!” That was a new word.  He was getting somewhere.  “All.  Mine.  MINE!” You couldn’t see, but you could hear the squeak in his voice as he comes undone.  Thick ropes of his cum paint your walls, and you finally feel like you're floating.  

His thrusts slow down, and ever so gently, you reach up to pull off his mask.  Life flashes before your eyes as you stutter.  Trying to find your words.  It couldn’t be.  He had changed, and still had this weird love for you, “Steve?” 

He blinks hard, staring blankly at your face before the softest, “Princess,” whispers off his lips.

“St-St-Steve?  Steve?  Is that really you?” 

“Okay, that’s enough, soldier,” a man walks into your cell, literally pulling Steve out of you, and you sit up crying and shaking your head.  “Erase him.”

“Erase?  No!  No!” 

“Discard the girl.” 

“No!  Mine,” a needle to his neck, makes his eyes close before he’s dragged out of the room.

“I hope you finally enjoyed your orgasm.  He won’t be seeing you again,” the doctor backs out of the cell, leaving you screaming and crying.  You still felt him on every inch of his body, still had his seed dripping out of you.  What was going on.

“You bastards!  You fucking bastards!  Steve!  Steve Rogers, I love you!”

A shadow steps out of the darkness, and raises his finger to his mouth, “Shh,” and then….

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @harrysthiccthighss 

[biteofcherry]

Just an aesthetic image: Captain Hydra and Winter Soldier in their full dark gear, black and red and silver, menacing, scary, armed; keeping you, their fucktoy, in delicate, gauzy fabrics. Barely covered, barefoot.

They provide you with the most luxurious pillows and covers, high makeup brands, your bath is stocked with bathsalts and lotions. It's not for you, not really. They want you to always keep yourself clean, soft, delicate looking. Just so the fun of breaking and ruining you is most exquisite.

[jesevans]

What he must have had to do while he was gone to need so desperately to work out his frustrations. I feel sorry for him. Obviously, I feel sorry for her too. She has her right mind to process what’s going on, he doesn’t. I don’t think the part of his brain he needs to process what Hydra is making him, a hero do is available to him while under their control, any more than it was under Bucky’s control. He’s torn apart all the time except when he can calm down with her. He needs her to decompress. He just doesn’t have any impulse control, and that’s not his fault. None of what he’s doing is his fault.

Mission Control 12

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You don’t know when he stopped, you’re just happy it’s over. For now. You know better than to think it won’t happen again. 

His shadow moves around, vague and ominous. You lay where he left you. The mattress feels thin beneath you, your body sunk from the force of his appetites. Your body aches as his assault scars you more than skin deep. Bitemarks and bruises pulses as your insides knot and tug in ceaseless horror. 

You don’t look at him. You can’t. You listen to him shift around; it sounds more as if the house shifts around him. He leaves the bedroom and you roll onto your side with a rattling effort. You whine and tuck your hand between your thighs, raw from his incessant pounding. 

It’s like something in him broke. There was no control in what he did. No restraint or relent. He is more than inhuman, he is monstrous. 

When he returns, a grunt crackles from him. He comes to the bed and it dips with his weight. He grabs your shoulder and forces you onto your back. You brace yourself for more. 

His cowl is gone. His brows arch and the scar down the side of his face pales with the strain. He raises his hand and you wince. He tilts his head then shakes it as he shows you a handful of the silver packets. You blink in confusion.  

You take a breath and try to speak. Your throat is brittle and dry. You clear it and push a hoarse whisper, “not hungry.” 

He tuts and drops the packets, keeping one in his hand. He points to the label. Day 2 – Dinner. It’s still sealed. He tosses it and takes another, once more tapping the slanted lettering. You think you know what he’s saying. 

You hug yourself and swallow, trying to wet your tongue. “I wasn’t hungry. Stomach hurt.” 

He looks down and sifts through the packages. He turns them over and his forehead wrinkles. He gathers them all and carries them away. 

You stare after him as he stomps out of the room. You uncross your arms and press your hands to the bed. You sit up and look down at the remnants of the nightgown. You free your arms and bring your knees up to hug them. You whimper at the friction between your legs. 

He comes back. His hair is greasy and some has a red tint at the tips. You don’t want to think of what that is. His neck shows a layer of filth and his clothes are stained and dusty. You look down and find much of it smeared on your skin. 

He marches over to you. You cower and he stops at the edge of the bed. He raises his hand slowly, as if to coax you. You stare as he holds it open to you. Your insides throb and you take his hand, not wanting to provoke another episode. 

He leads you from the bed and takes you through the front room into the bathroom. He puts you by the sink and turns away. You shiver, trying to shield your naked body with only your arms. He bends over the tub and rinses it out then puts the stopper in place. 

He faces you and works at unstrapping his body armor. You stare at him, legs trembling, and move to lean on the sink to keep from keeling over. He watches you with a dimple in his forehead. 

He undresses, piece by piece, until he’s naked. You stay as you are until he grabs you. He drags you to the tub with him. You step in at his insistence and he angles you around. He lowers himself first then brings you down over him. The water laps between your feet as it fills the porcelain. 

You can’t relax, even as the heat soothes your tortured muscles. With him so close, you can’t ever let your guard down again.  

He brings his hand up your thigh and around your hip. He tickles your stomach and spreads his hand over one side of your chest. You shiver and steel yourself. He toys with you, not unkindly, and you brace the sides of the tub. 

As the water reaches the brim, he sits you up with him to shut it off. He reclines again, hooking his other arm around your middle. You like this softness less than his rough return. You can handle the cruelty, you expect it, but these moments confound you. It’s like a game you can’t win. 

Silence steams with the water. You don’t move. You can’t. You have to do something. Say something. But what? 

“I’m sorry,” you eke out. You’re not sure why you say that, but you are sorry. That moment flashes in your head, when you tried to use his name. That seemed to set him off. “Thank you for the food and the wood. I’m sorry I didn’t eat it all.” 

He growls but doesn’t say anything. He shifts and nuzzles the top of your head, his hot breath pluming over your scalp. The rigidity slowly seeps from him, thought that underlying stiffness remains. 

“I tried to keep it clean. I didn’t know... what else to do. I... I don’t know why I’m talking. I’ll-- I’ll stop,” you exhale and stare at the corroding mouth of the faucet. 

He drags his hand up from your chest and cups your chin. You twitch and his thumb stretches up to toy with your lower lip. Your grimace and let him poke around. He huffs in frustration then with two fingers, moves both your lips. He traces his touch down to your throat. 

“You want me to talk?” You ask. 

He pushes his nose firmly against your crown. You take that as affirmation. What do you talk about? You glance around and search for anything. You’ve been so bored and yet you can’t think of much. 

“My... my grandma had a tub like this,” you utter awkwardly. “It was her favourite place. She would read in there for hours. Funny, she... she wasn’t much of a kid person so we usually just did our own thing.” You ramble as your voice cracks, “and... we broke her favourite clock. It had a glass cover over it... I... just a silly memory.” 

He hums and caresses your cheek. You gulp again and hold back a quiver. If you can keep him calm for just a little, then you’ll find something to talk about. You just need to think about anything but the here and now. 

[thirtysomethingloser92]

Send Help.

Leaning heavily towards Rumlow because like ✨I can fix him✨