#Hydra AU

[jen-with-a-pen]

F O X ＨＵＮＴ

summary: Not only has HYDRA executed their infiltration on S.H.I.E.L.D., but they have also reclaimed their finest weapon. Your safety isn't the only thing that's compromised.

pairings: WS!Beefy!Bucky Barnes x F!Avenger!Reader

word count: 6.1k

warnings: chasing, being hunted down, implied n0n-con elements, canon-level violence, cursing, implied t0rture, blood, beat1ngs, forced nud1ty, language, HYDRA-level cruelty, Bucky gets Brainwashed (again), there's Steve x Reader if you squint REALLY REALLY hard

read here on ao3!

a/n: This was inspired by last year's Whumptober Day 2: NOWHERE TO RUN - CORNERED, CAGED AND CONFRONTATION. I know it's February JUNE, but shit came up and my motivation tanked lmao thanks adhd med trials Literally have never done a dark(er?) fic before and this one has been cooking for god knows how fucking long now. I hope y'all like it <3 (also the hydra victory au is something i discovered from the lovely @lunarbuck reset series and stewed obsessively over for literal months now. still obsessed with it whoops)

dividers by @firefly-graphics | gif by @lost-shoe | @hydravictrix

my ao3 | my masterlist

Translations

Lisitsa | лисица - fox/little fox

Soldat | солдат - soldier

Syuda | сюда - over here

Khitraya suka | хитрая сука - sly bitch

Moy priz | мой приз - my prize

Glupaya pizda | глупая пизда - stupid cunt

Moye | мое - mine

The infiltration was subtle at the start.

A few missions gone mysteriously wrong, agents killed in action or disappearing entirely, hacks that were, thankfully, contained within an inch of a full-blown data breach. All of it seemed so coincidental when it happened, swept under the rug each and every single time before Director Fury could have a swear-filled say as to what the hell was going on. 

But hindsight is 20/20. It always is.

The day S.H.I.E.L.D. fell was, ironically, the perfect day: brilliant sunshine, clear blue skies, a breeze weaving between the towering buildings and skyscrapers. It was almost eerie, in a way, how perfect of a day it was. 

You found yourself in the gym, Steve and Sam hashing it out on whose turn it was in sparring. You had all but knocked Sam out cold in the previous round as Steve watched from behind the ropes, cheering you on with a cocky, proud grin as he watched all of his hard work in your training pay off.

Of course, the stubborn ass he was, Sam wanted another go. 

“C’mon, Steve! I wanna rematch!” Sam protested, gesturing wildly in your direction with one hand while his other held an ice pack to his bruised temple. Steve stifled a laugh, tossing a glance over his shoulder to you. You shook your head, smiling back as you gulped down the rest of your water bottle. Cool strands spilled out from the corners of your lips and down your chest. You welcomed the relief from the sweat gluing your t-shirt to your skin. 

“How ‘bout I take Steve instead of giving you another concussion?” you retorted, giggling as Sam shot a narrow look at you. He huffed, forfeiting his argument by waving a dismissive hand. 

“Fine, ’m gonna go find some pain meds,” he grumbled, turning to point a swollen finger at Steve. “I better see you in the infirmary next, Cap.” 

He stomped off through the metal doors and left the two of you in silence.

“Whaddya say, sweetheart? You up for round two?” Steve teased, stepping under the ropes and into the ring. He wrapped his hands as he moved to the center, muscle memory carrying him while keeping his eager gaze on you. His eyes carried excitement as they journeyed up and down your figure, rolling his lip between his teeth as he drank you with his stare. 

You did little to hide your pride at the Captain checking you out, chewing the corner of your cheek to tame your own smirk at the beautiful blond. You turned away, hiding the heat from your cheeks as you tossed your bottle at your bag. You weaved under the ropes, coming face to face with your willing opponent in the center. You lifted your chin to meet his, the hidden smirk on your lips growing into a grin.

“With you? Always, old man,” you purred. You tossed him a teasing wink as you positioned your fists in front of you, feet planted firmly in the starting stance. Steve lingered on you for a second longer, tongue swiping across his lips hungrily as he cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, raising his hands to mirror you.

The two of you began to circle one another, dancing in a familiar pattern you knew by heart. Steve took his first swipe at you and you ducked, managing a hit to his stomach. A grunt escaped from him– not of hurt but of thrill. He lunged for you as you dodged again, blocking his failed strike to your head. 

“Wow! You really can’t teach an old dog new tricks!” you taunted, dodging another blow, his wrapped fist only grazing your shoulder. You rolled it back, holding back a slight wince as you continued the violent waltz. 

You lunged at him, instead faltering and falling to the ground. Readying the curse on your tongue, it stopped short of your lips as you looked up at Steve. 

He stood frozen in place, panting, fists at his sides clenching tighter and tighter. As you opened your mouth to unload even more cursing questions, screeching erupted from the loudspeakers around the room. High-pitched tones screaming above, a robotic voice speaking clinically and quickly. You scrambled off the floor, unease creeping in as you latched onto Steve’s arm, his arm tensing under your touch.

CODE WHITE. CODE SILVER. ALL SECURITY AND TEAM UNITS URGENTLY NEEDED. 40th FLOOR. THREAT IS ACTIVE AND HIGHLY DANGEROUS. REPEAT. CODE WHITE. CODE SILVER. ALL SECURITY AND TEAM UNITS–

The message had cut out, static replacing it alongside the echoing alarms throughout the hallways outside the gym. You looked up at Steve. Anxiety surged upon finding his face devoid of all blood, his jaw slack, eyes boring into the metal doors leading to the hallway. He looked scared. 

You’d never seen Steve scared before. 

“Steve, what the fuck was that–”

“Get to the locker rooms and hide,” he ordered. He pulled his arm from you, jumping over the ropes and sprinting to his duffel bag on the floor. He pulled out his phone and dialed frantically as he ran to the doors. 

“Steve!” You stood trembling in the ring as your stomach churned. 

“Now!” he yelled. “I’ll come back for you!” 

He didn’t wait to hear your response as he slammed the gym doors shut, followed by a whir and click.

He locked you in. 

You didn’t– couldn’t– hesitate as a surge of urgency overtook you. You needed to hide. Now. Fast.

Your legs carried you as you jumped out of the ring and raced to grab your duffel bag, sprinting to the back of the gym through another set of double doors. You wove through the tiled maze of the locker room searching for some sort of hiding spot, settling on the showers. You snuck over to the stall at the very end, the closest one to the emergency exit, and ducked under the opaque plastic curtain. Your bag fell to the floor as you climbed onto the stall seat. Blood pumped in your ears, thumping as quickly as your shaky, shallow breathing. Millions of thoughts and questions and worries rushed through your mind at impossible speeds.

White and Silver. Which alert was that for?

You racked through fleeting memories, distant recollections of training and orientation from months ago, searching for anything remotely familiar. You remembered all of the other codes– red, orange, teal– but no white, no silver. 

A faint buzzing sounded from inside your duffel. You lunged, unzipping it and fishing out your phone. Natasha. Her name lit up the screen and you frantically hit the answer key before the call could even think about dropping.

“Where the fuck are you?” Her panicked voice hissed into your ear. Her edged tone was enough to make your stomach backflip faster. 

“Locker rooms, forty-fifth floor. What the fuck is going on, Nat?” Your voice shook as anger and confusion boiled in your blood.

A muffled swear. “Where’s Steve?”

“He ran out, locked me in, told me to hide.” More incoherent curses.

“Fuck, fuck, okay, look, trust me on this, you need to stay where you are, okay? I can get you out, I–” 

High-pitched ringing overtook the speaker, sending you reeling away from the receiver. Static echoed out of the speakers.

“You what? Natasha!”

“No– time– you–”

“Natasha! Hello?”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You tore the phone away from your ear and choked back the bile rising in your throat. Service was out. The blinking bars at the top of the screen mocked you and your sudden plunge into isolation. 

The lights went next. 

The dull fluorescents flickered. Someone cut the electricity, sending you into almost darkness as the backup generator lights kicked on. Scattered lights from above cast an eerie yellow glow over the shower tiles. You’d only seen this kind of outage happen once before, when New York was hit with Hurricane Noah a few years back.

The fear you felt in that storm paled in comparison to what you felt now.

You sighed, shaky and surrendering, and pulled your body closer to you on the shower bench. A chill snaked its way down your spine as your skin brushed the cool ceramic, an unwelcome addition to the cold already enveloping you. Your sweat-soaked t-shirt and shorts failed to aid you and your aching muscles. Fingernails dug into your kneecaps in a struggle to stop trembling as you tried to focus on your breathing. Inhaling, exhaling, in, out. Screwing your eyes shut, praying to any deity imaginable it was all just a drill, it was all an accident or a misunderstanding or–

The ground shook as a loud bang echoed from outside the locker room. A panicked yelp escaped your throat before your hands could scramble and cover your mouth. You froze as the tremors subsided and listened. It, or they, sounded close. 

Too close. 

Another BANG! Then another. 

Rhythmic, steady blows, each quicker and more powerful than the last. Hands clamped tighter over your lips until your blood froze at the sounds of crushing steel and crumbling concrete. The lump in your throat grew as horrific realization flooded over you. 

They, or it, broke in.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it– those doors were more fortified than Tony’s lab. Four-inch-thick, steel and plexiglass doors with a three-tier secured locking system. Nothing, nobody– not even the strongest Super Soldier– was powerful enough to make the faintest of dents in them.

Racing through who, or what, could have possibly broken into the gym, your train of thought derailed as echoes of men yelling indecipherable words and mixed commands shattered the remaining air of safety you clung to. Listening intently, a mix of combat boots and tactical gear filtered in with the echoed commands.

The S.T.R.I.K.E. Team.

Your legs begged for reprieve from crouching, but your body disobeyed and froze you in place. Part of you didn’t trust who was outside. Footsteps and gruff voices became heavier, closer. The relief that greeted you was replaced again by panic as you listened closer.

Clear, Russian commands resonated at the entrance to the locker rooms. They were coming in. 

Your breath hitched, blood running cold as footsteps closed in. It was one person, but their steps didn’t sound like the heavy boots before them. They sounded more like…

Sneakers?

The rubber from the intruder’s shoes squeaked on the tiled floors. Ragged breathing echoed off the walls. A low growl, accompanied by quiet whirring. Someone big, someone mean. 

Your heart made its way to your throat as the intruder inched closer. Slow, methodical, as if trained in search and rescue. 

It didn’t feel like a rescue.

The lump almost turned into a scream as an echoed BANG carried from the bathroom stalls around the corner. Silence followed, then a growl, then another BANG. The cycle repeated for the remaining stalls, the intruder slowly creeping along. Growls became deeper upon each disappointment. 

Hostages. They were looking for hostages.

Soles squeaked as the intruder changed course, stomping around the corner to search the line of shower stalls. You hiccuped a sob, realizing tears started to trail down your cheeks. Biting your palm only proved a lame attempt to calm your racing heart, a scream threatening to leave your throat as they began tearing the plastic curtains off the stalls. Each clang of metal cracking onto the tile became closer as you ground your teeth into the meat of your hand. Eyes screwed shut, silent prayers raced in your head, pleading to wake up; to wake up from this hellscape of a sick, twisted nightmare. 

The intruder’s steps stopped. 

Your eyes opened, widening at the blurred, hulking shadow standing outside of your stall. They had to be well over six feet. Towering, bulky, monstrous. 

Slowly, the shadow’s hand reached for the curtain. One by one, its fingers closed around the plastic’s edge, preparing to rip it down and rip you open. Eyes burning, hot tears felt like molten metal as you attempted to make yourself as small as possible in your corner, huddling your knees as close as they could be. This was it. This was the end. You prayed– actually fucking prayed– hoping they couldn’t hear your pathetic whimpering, hoping they would make this quick, painless; break your neck or put a gun to your head and get it over with. Leave your body for someone else to find.

“Soldat, syuda!” 

The command made your heart stop.

The shadow froze, stopped by a call from the entrance to the locker room. Skin met your teeth as you bit harder into your hand. Lungs began panicking as you started hyperventilating, bile reaching your throat and burning the back of your tongue. 

The shadow, the monster, growled in protest. It retracted the curled hand from the curtain, wordlessly moving back towards the bathroom stalls. Footsteps faded as muffled conversation floated away from the locker room.

You needed to get the fuck out of there. 

You slid off the bench, legs aching and knees popping as you crouched silently over to the curtain, peeking out behind the plastic. It crinkled quietly and you bit your lip, leaning out ever so slightly over the threshold. 

Tiptoeing around the corner, you faced the emergency exit. The glowing sign omitted a creepy, green glow that added to the eeriness brought by the generator lights. 

This was it.

You slammed the push bar down, throwing the door open with your body and spilling out into the hallway. Sunlight flashed through the infinite glass hallway, blinding you. In your frozen state, you hear commotion from behind the door as it slammed shut. Banging from the other side, the sound of metal on metal, made your teeth grind. Indents from punches dented the door, deforming its smooth outside. You didn’t stay frozen for long as your body screamed at you to fucking move, now.

Your legs obeyed immediately, carrying you through the corridor to the closest means of escape you could find. As you rounded the corner, the crushing sounds of the door breaking off of its hinges hit your ears. You didn’t dare to look back, sprinting through the twists and turns of the infinite hallway. You followed what felt familiar, burning muscles egged on by the sound of pounding footsteps getting closer and closer.

Finally, you stumbled onto the entrance to a stairwell, pausing to gasp for air your lungs demanded. The burn in your legs and chest only aided in the physiological need to hyperventilate. Sweat dripped from your temple and your head pounded as hard as your feet hitting the ground. 

You leaned into the safety bar, inches away from further distancing yourself from whatever, whoever, was on your trail, when a yell erupted from the end of the hallway. 

It felt like slow-motion; one of those scenes in those cheesy horror movies Sam always made you and Steve watch on weekends off. The ones with cheap FX, bad sound, but somehow great editing for the budget. The scenes where realization hits the main character and suddenly everything is half the speed while they still move in real time. 

You turned your head towards the source. Then, it hit you. Blood drained from your face as the horror of realization hit you, like a speeding sixteen-wheeler head on.

Bucky Barnes stood hulking at the end of the hallway. Generator lights and setting sun illuminated his snarling teeth, gleaming from parted lips that had him panting like a rabid dog. If you hadn’t known better it would’ve looked like he was heading for the gym for his daily workout. Blown pupils, sweat-stuck hair, complimented by a shaking frame– most definitely caused by adrenaline, dopamine, and a slew of Gods-knew-what other drugs he had pumped into his system. Splotches of drying, smeared blood coated his neck and shirt while even more dripped onto the ground from his fists. The crimson contrasted with the medically white floors. 

Bile rose in your throat again. The acidic taste made you dry heave at the sight of the blood, knowing from the looks of Bucky it definitely wasn’t his.

He snarled as your eyes finally met. Fists of flesh and metal flexed. Rippling muscles shook as he readied to launch forward.

“You’re mine, lisitsa!” he barked. His voice booming louder than the speed of sound, it made your ears ring.

Your throat finally opened. You screamed as he sprinted towards you, making more ground down the hallway than an apex predator out of hibernation. You shoved the exit door open, heaving your legs forward as you ascended the stairs. No choice but to go up, you refused to look back– nay you didn’t dare to even consider it. Muscles and tendons and joints burned, yearning for you to stop, but the door slamming from flights below you only pushed you harder, flying up and passing floor after floor. 

You were fast, but he was faster. 

Dizziness overtook you as your vision began to blur. Darkened edges of your peripherals made you stop your climb at level 50, pausing for a split second to hear Bucky’s progress. He was close behind, but you still had more of an advantage. You knew the Tower better than him. You knew level 50 had another stairwell on the opposite side of the floor, through another hallway off the corner of your current one. Sneakers pounded too close for comfort as you shoved the door open and made a break for it down another corridor labyrinth.

If you made it out of this alive, you swore you’d kill Tony’s architect yourself. 

“You can’t hide forever, lisitsa!” Bucky’s voice rang out from the stairwell as you rounded the corner, sprinting through more identical-looking hallways. Another corner later and the glowing red EXIT sign appeared above the next stairwell. A beacon of hope, almost. Relieved, you head straight for it, body and mind and soul pushing against the burning and the gasping for air. You were right there, hand outstretched, fingertips grasping the metal bar–

It felt like a car crash. 

Not an accident or fender bender. No, it felt like seventy miles an hour meets a tree with no intent of moving. That split-second feeling where your stomach drops and you can all but brace for the deadly impact destined for you to meet.

Time stopped as you were yanked backwards. Cold, slick metal wrapped around your ankle, bloody hand print smearing some poor bastard’s DNA all over your calf as your body fell to the ground. Hard. Your jaw clenched as your chin slammed into the linoleum. Teeth ground into your tongue as copper flooded your tastebuds. Your lungs, with little wind left in them, gasped for oxygen. Another scream rising in your throat became stuck in your vocal cords. 

Bucky whipped you around as you struggled to free your lower half. You landed on your shoulder, head bouncing against the floor and teary eyes struggled to stay open and endure the pain. He straddled your form, the weight crashing down on your bones and organs. A sharp inhale impaled your chest as you met Bucky’s darkened eyes, then; the familiar steel blue replaced entirely with dilated, unhinged pupils. 

It was the first time you got a good look at his face. His face is speckled with blood spatter and several bruises spread across his cheek down his neck. Two black eyes, a bloody nose– one you hoped was his– and a broken lip. The bloodied collar of his shirt only aided in the mess of his hair. His soft, chocolate strands stuck in mats to his neck and temples with sweat and blood. 

Out of sheer habit, because he looked like your Bucky, you couldn’t help but reach a hand out to him. A soft plea for the man behind his eyes, one you begged everything holy was still there. He held your stare, face contorting into unrecognizable emotions. Tears brimmed your eyes as your hand stretched further, sobs escaping as your fingers inched closer and closer to his battered face.

“Bucky, it’s me–”

Your appeal transformed into a shriek, quickly snuffed out as Bucky wrapped his crimson-spattered metal hand around your throat. You choked, sputtering lost pleas as your hands flew to your neck. Fingernails flailed in futile attempts to claw off the weapons-grade titanium. 

“You’re done running, khitraya suka,” Bucky’s hot breath fanned your face as he leaned in. His mouth grazed your jaw, titanium hand on your throat flexing with each syllable. He slowly made his way down your neck, pushing harder into your chest with his forearm. A heavy growl. His grip only tightened as you tried to knee him in the groin, picking you up by your neck and slamming you down again.

Stars circled your blurred vision, eyes rolling back into your head. The corridor, the lights, everything split into two.

“You owe me for my victory, lisitsa,” Bucky’s husky whisper resonated in your ear as he licked the side of your face, his hot, wet mouth against your tear-stained cheek. As his free hand moved to the waistband of your shorts, another surge of panic washed through you. You tried to sputter a weak cry from your closed-off throat, blood turning cold, another scream building and building in your chest and aching for release. 

“You owe me what’s mine –!” 

BANG!

Something from somewhere all of a sudden. The object slammed into Bucky, throwing him off of you and spilling across the floor. 

Finally, your lungs lunged at the chance for air, leaving you a heaving, choking, coughing mess. Spitting at the ground as you made your way shakily to your hands and knees, a freed hand traveling to rub the fresh strangulation bruises forming on the column of your stiff neck. 

“Get the fuck off her, Bucky!” 

Steve.

As your vision cleared, the shield whizzed past you as it ricocheted back into Steve’s open arms. Bucky groaned, low and guttural, but only for a moment is he subdued. Slowly, he rose, like smoke from extinguished ashes, looking to his metal vice. A large dent adorned the weathered, bloodied appendage where his bicep met his shoulder. He then turned his attention to Steve, baring his teeth, anger coursing through him as he immediately disregarded you. His sights set on a new target, launching himself at Steve without a beat lost.

Steve grunted as Bucky’s metal fist met the vibranium shield with a deafening clang. Steve gritted his teeth and pushed back, managing to break Bucky’s attack and aim a kick for his stomach.

“Go! I got him!” Steve yelled to you through a gasp as Bucky countered with his own swipe at Steve’s middle. Your body stayed put, relishing in the ability to fucking breathe again, also painfully aware how screwed you’d be if you didn’t escape as you had the chance. You willed yourself to move, to run and to keep going, to no avail. As Steve landed a blow to Bucky, his eyes met yours once more. His baby blues, pained and tired, begged for you to listen to him for once in your life. 

“Now!”

The strain in Steve’s voice seemed to ignite a fire underneath you. Pushing yourself up, you willed your legs to carry you to the exit. Bloody shoe prints tracked your route as you slammed through the doorway. You cursed, knowing they’ll give away which way you’d go, knowing your life matters more than a twenty-dollar pair of sneakers. Kicking them off, throwing the pair down the exit, praying they made it far enough Bucky wouldn’t know any better. 

You threw yourself up the stars, tremors and pain afflicting every limb as the cold concrete seeped in through your socks in each step. The railing helped as you heaved yourself forward with help from the railing. Sweaty palms slipped on the bars, but your grip only grew tighter. 

You didn’t know how you, or your body, was able to do it, making it up seven more flights of stairs before your knees buckled on level 57. Heaving the door open and slamming it shut, you stumbled out into the new hallway. You hadn’t visited that level before. Something Steve and the others– especially Doctor Banner– said was “just a business floor.”

The sign on the wall directing to ‘SAFELAB’ said otherwise. Nothing in the Tower was “just business.” 

What you did know was that every SAFELAB on every floor was located in the same, far-east hallway. 

Wiping the sweat from your temple, you turned right, jogging down the darkened, emptied-out hallway. It felt like the apocalypse. No sign of anybody else. Doors left ajar, papers and bags and other employee memorabilia scattered throughout abandoned offices and cubicles. You hoped everyone was able to make it out, at least.

Part of you didn’t hope for much, though. 

The door to the lab came into view as you rounded the last corner. The door was still locked, the lab inside sterile and untouched. A sigh of relief escaped you. Holding your palm to the door’s scanner, it answered your prayers in a soft beep and whir, miraculously allowing you in. 

You maneuvered through the multiple security doors, four in total, crouching low once you managed to slip into the lab itself. The gigantic window at the front of the labspace spared no room for you to hide easily, but you had zero room to complain about it. It was your only option, after all.

Well, besides the roof. 

Crouched, you snuck your way around the counters and various equipment to one of the supply closets. The furthest corner from the entrance. You scoured through drawers and cupboards for some sort of weaponry; the most you could find was a new scalpel out of a box of extras. 

You closed in on the supply closet, reaching up and grasping the handle, turning it slowly to prevent any squeaks from the inner hinge. A tear glided down your cheek in relief. You hadn’t realized you started crying. Again. 

The door swung open. It greeted you mostly empty, deep enough for you to cram your body into. Crawling inside, bones and limbs contorted into the most comfortable position you could manage. You pinched the edges of the doors to close them as best as you can, accepting they, in fact, couldn’t close all the way from the inside. A curse under your breath, the sliver of dim light through the crack cast onto your face. Once settled, you crumpled your damp t-shirt up from the collar and shoved the fabric into your mouth. Teeth and tongue greeted sweaty cotton and hints of copper as you bit down on the collar, covering your mouth with a free hand. 

At last, after Gods knew how long it had been since you ceased moving, a silenced sob heaved out of your chest. Tremors only worsened as your nervous system rode out the fumes of its adrenaline high and flight mode instincts. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks, mixing with snot further down your face, slipping down to your neck and leaving behind streaked paths in the bloodied, hand-printed bruises adorned on your flesh. The pain from the near-strangulation you suffered broke through the shock and endorphins that were keeping you sane until then. You knew, though, you couldn’t break down. Not yet. Not until you saw Natasha or Steve or someone you trusted face-to-face. 

You started counting your breaths. Mind racing, thoughts traveling near sonic speeds through your mind carrying questions at how the hell it all happened.

You thought for sure S.H.I.E.L.D. was secure, especially after the ordeal with Bucky, Steve, and the whole ‘defeating HYDRA’ ordeal from a few years back. Hell, you thought it was safer than taking the FBI’s recon mission that was offered to you before being referred to Tony himself. Your mind raced, what-ifs and endless possibilities flashing across your eyes like a snuff film. You hoped Steve was okay. You hoped Natasha was on her way to your location any second. You hoped Sam was safe and made it out okay. You hoped Bucky –

Bucky. 

Christ, you hadn’t even stopped to think about how the hell everything happened to him. He’d been doing so well in his recovery program. Steve was even telling you about it that same morning, bragging about how well Bucky was doing, how much progress he was making, how soon they’d finally be able to move in together once Doctor Banner cleared him. Another sob overtook you. How you’d never seen him like that before, the feeling of his titanium arm slowly crushing your windpipe, the weight of his entire body crushing your internal organs as he’d held you down. The things he’d said. You tried to wrap your head around what he’d said, what he was going to do–

Crashing followed by shattering glass emitted a muffled yelp from you as your blood ran cold. Another wave of tears flooded out of your burning eyes, chest heaving unevenly. Your hand clamped even tighter over your mouth as teeth bit into the salty fabric of your shirt, drying up any more moisture your mouth was grateful to finally have.

BANG! Then another. Then more in rapid succession. Shattering, crashing, shattering, silence. The final blow to the security doors sounded from inside the lab itself. Your breath hitched and bile began bubbling in your stomach, reaching the back of your throat and across your tongue. You forced yourself to swallow the acid, listening intently to the crunch of sneakers on shattered glass.

He’d found you. 

“Lisitsaaa,” Bucky drawled, his voice dropped to a primally low octave. Lower than before. You almost couldn’t make out the words, a mixture of growled mumblings of English and Russian. Knees folded closer to your chest, you tightened your grip on the handle of the scalpel. Bucky’s footsteps were slow, methodical, predatorial. 

His heavy steps inched closer, each followed by a pause, then sudden crashing of lab equipment and smashing of drawers. More glass and metal slammed to the ground and walls after each pause. He sounded feet away. Then inches. 

Your breathing stopped as the sliver of light clouded over. The lump in your throat threatened more puke to rise as you dared to peer up through the crack, heart dropping like a dead weight to your stomach as your eyes fell on freshly bloodied sneakers. A stifled scream in your lungs choked you. You refused to think about whose blood that was.

Eyes darted back up. You could see Bucky’s blurred features clouded in shadows. The only light visible, then, was the glint from his wicked smile. Bloodied teeth shone as he licked his lips hungrily, a predator finally cornering its prey. 

Ever so slowly he crouched, shoving his face closer into the seam in the door. Tears and snot continued to stream down your face, your body hyperventilating as you forced yourself to look into his eyes. There was nothing else you could do. Nothing else to say, to cry about. There was nowhere left to run. He got you. 

“There you are, moy priz,” Bucky hissed before reaching through and throwing the doors open, heavy hands leaving imprints in the flimsy metal. Frozen, your fist was still closed around the scalpel, your muscles tensed as joints locked in place. His evil eyes scanned your body greedily, looking for which cut of meat to divulge in first. His gaze stopped at your fist and he chuckled, tisking in a disappointed tone. 

“Oh, glupaya pizda,” Bucky shook his head, amused at your meager choice of weaponry. Compared to him, you might as well have been waving a white flag. His smile only grew, tongue jutting out to lick his lips. Specks of blood coated the sides of his cheeks and edges of his mouth, smeared about from ear to ear with the back of his hand.

“Come with me and they might consider your life, lisitsa–”

You sprung into him, swinging your arm, landing the scalpel into the middle of his flesh hand, impaling straight through it. In an instant, blood spewed from the impact. Bucky screamed out in pain, a slew of mixed language curses reverberating in your skull. You scrambled out of your hiding place, bashing him with a balled fist to the face as you tumbled out and onto your feet, sprinting to the lab’s only exit. Freedom was only an arm’s length away when an overturned stool tripped you. The impact didn’t hurt near as much as the millions of shattered glass bits shredded cut into your skin, your hands and knees and arms and face littered as blood smeared under you and across the once-sterile white floors. You cried out, writhing around. Battered and bloodied, struggling to rise and run again despite the searing pain in your ankle.

Before you could form your next thought, a rough hand snatched your scalp and dragged you up by your hair. You uttered a panicked scream as Bucky hoisted you to eye level, snarling like a rabid dog as he shook you hard.

“I thought you were smarter than that, lisitsa,” he sneered, “but I was wrong.”

He hurled you back onto the floor, his bloodied, titanium fist still gripping your hair, dragging you over to one of the disheveled lab tables. More glass shredded your skin, blood and sweat and tears mixing and pouring over your face and hands and body. With ease and a free hand, he swiped the rest of the contents off another counter; beakers and burners crashed to the floor. His grip tightened as he threw you up onto the stainless steel counter, the dead weight of your body banging onto the table, landing you hard on your back. Eardrums rang into your skull and jaw, radiating down your spine and out your limbs. Your hands slip against the smooth metal from the blood, futile attempts to grab onto something, anything. You groaned and huffed excess sobs. The pain, unbearable; the fear, unimaginable. 

Bucky hoisted himself onto the table, landing on top of your broken body, his knee hitting your spine and knocking your last breath out of you. Straddling you, his thick thighs bulged through tattered sweatpants, squeezing into your rib cage. He looped another fist into your hair, raising your head and slamming it down. The side of your face smushed into the steel table, smearing around more blood as he did it again. And again. The cartilage in your nose cracked and throbbing pain radiated into your eyes, your skull. Warmth from the break and the blood poured over your face. The pain, dulling into numbness as you began to fade in and out of consciousness.

Your vision started to blur and blacken, stars and specks orbiting around Bucky like a halo of hallucination. Your body, finally surrendering to him. No fight left. Any strength you could have mustered, funneled into staying awake, proved useless. 

A new sound, then: ripping.

You didn’t have to look to witness Bucky unrelentingly tear your t-shirt away from your body, training his eyes on your open form. Bruised skin exposed to cool air, your chest still momentarily held together by your sports bra. He made quick work of it next, the nylon snapping off in one swipe, sending goosebumps racing down your spine. 

Ice-cold titanium fingers untangled from your matted hair and made their way from your nape, to the small of your back, to the waistband of your gym shorts. Muscles tensed as you felt each digit wrap almost leisurely onto the elastic. He tore them away swiftly, baring the rest of you and your skin to him. A growl, one of pleasure, vibrated into you from him, emitted he palmed the skin of your ass. His fingers journeyed languidly in a slow trail from your back to your core. You squirmed, wasting the last of your strength, a hopeless attempt to get away one last time. 

A crack came across your face. Flesh against flesh, he slapped you. A punishment. A command for obedience. Your body fell limp. Breathing raggedly and gagging on blood and spit, you shuddered as he took your wrists and tied them together with your t-shirt. 

Satisfied, his prey finally submitting, Bucky paused, panting as he leaned down to you. He wet his lips before speaking, gruff words slurred against your ringing eardrum. As he spoke, cold metal grazed your entrance, a threat of what was to come. 

“Now, I get to take what’s mine.”

Your screams echoed as the world fell dark.

#whumptober #whumptober22 #whumptober2022 #angst #whump #au #hydra au #hydra victory au #winter soldier #winter soldier bucky barnes #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x f!reader #winter soldier x female reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x y/n #winter soldier fic #winter soldier fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers #jen writes #sam wilson #foxhunt

[gaysindistress]

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest This fanart has haunted me since the first time I seen it and then I watched the Inglorious Bastards and here we are. There is nothing explicated stated but since Bucky is lowkey inspired by Hans Landa, take care of yourself and skip if you need to.

Footsteps and a knock at the door. 

“Mademoiselle?” the quiet voice of a maid drifts from the cracks of the door, “Mademoiselle are you awake? You have invités.”

The code word is what rouses the girl from her fitful sleep. Sliding out of her warm bed, the girl grabs her robe and slips it on before opening her bedroom door for her maid. 

“Merci, Josette. How many?” The hoarse voice tears its way from her throat as she steps aside for her maid to come in. 

Josette shifts nervously on her feet but stays put before whispering, “One but Mademoiselle, he is… he is the one from the papers.”

The girl nods as she listens to the frightened words of her maid. “Take him to the kitchen and tell him that I will be down momentarily. Give him a glass and a pitcher of water but do not offer him anything else and leave immediately. Wake Monsieur Pierre and tell him that you need him to take you to get honey. Do you understand?”

Josette doesn’t do anything, she just stares at the girl that she’s worked for for the last two years in shock. She begins to tremble and she grips her by the shoulders. 

“Tu comprends, Josette?”

She nods and scurries off down the hall, her blonde hair whipping behind her. The girl closes her door and begins to fix her appearance in her vanity mirror, rebraiding a braid she wore to sleep that night. She changes into her usual pair of cotton dungarees with a worn white blouse under and puts on the terribly knitted cardigan she made when Monsieur Pierre’s wife was first teaching her. Unable to find her boots, she slips on her oxfords and stalls at the door with her hand on the knob. She had hoped that it would’ve taken the bastard longer to find her but alas time is never going to be on her side. 

She pulls the door open and walks to the kitchen. She’d come to love this chateau during her months here and would miss it when she undoubtedly would be forced to flee. Pierre’s hushed voice draws her attention behind her but she doesn’t turn around. He’s telling Josette to hurry up and it almost made her chuckle. He wasn’t fond of the young blonde and would lecture her regularly. It seemed as though nothing would ever change from the sound of his frustrated voice. 

The flicking candle light in the kitchen is a warning, an omen really as she drew closer. She knows who was sitting in there, the man who had been haunting her dreams for years now.

“Monsieur,” she says in demure tone as she steps into the kitchen, “I apologize for my staff. She is a nervous girl. Would you like something to drink other than water? Coffee? Tea?”

“Fräulein,” the menacing voice that plagues her drawls, “you know that’s not how you should address me.”

The switch from French to German causes her to freeze internally but she doesn’t let it show. Instead she feigns nativity and she shakes her head at him, “I’m afraid I do not speak German, only French.”

He only stares at her. His sharp blue eyes are intense as they were before but the evidence of their time together is everlasting. A deep scar that stretches from his eyebrow to the bottom of his eye socket and a milky white eye in the middle of it. 

Her lip curls up in a smirk when she turns her face and sits opposite of him. He’s dressed in the usual attire of a colonel: an immaculately kept black uniform with a long black overcoat. 

“We both know that is a lie, Fräulein.”

She doesn’t respond. 

His own smirk overcomes his painfully beautiful face, “Drop the act, y/n. 

“I don’t know what or who you’re talking about. There is no act to be dropped and no y/n here.”

He leans back in his chair, causing the wood to creak and groan under his weight. He takes a drink of water while holding eye contact with her. Upon setting it down, the sound of gunfire rips through the air and she tenses while he watches for her reaction. When she doesn’t so much as flinch, he cocks his head at her and narrows his eyes. A car barrels down the gravel driveway and crashes into the ancient tree in the center. 

“I would apologize for them but that would be a lie,” he tells her. 

There’s a shift in the air and her demure french woman act is, in fact, dropped. 

Her accented German cuts thick through the air, “What do you want?”

“You.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“No.”

“I will burn this shithole to the ground,” he says as he pulls out a cigarette tin and lights a cigarette. He offers one to her and she takes it, allowing him to light it. 

“Is that meant to scare me into going with you? Come on, James, you have done worse than that and I suspect you will do far more.”

“Perhaps,” he agrees with a shrug of his shoulders. “But you will come with me, y/n. Tonight.”

“No,” she states again, blowing out her smoke and crossing her arms. 

“Defiant as always I see,” he mutters under his breath as he too takes a drag of his cigarette.

There is a long silent pause as the two of them smoke and stare at each other. His beauty hasn’t waned over the years but it’s turned deadly. The scar she gave him when she escaped him that night adds to the murderous edge to his gaze. The uniform that he wears is foul and makes her sick to her stomach. He’d promised to leave, promised to get away before things got bad. He’d promised to come for her once it was safe and they could live the life they had dreamed of. 

He’d broken all of those promises when he put on that uniform. All but one promise that is. He has come for her and he would be able to provide her with his sick verison of safety. 

“One of us is going to die,” she says finally whilst tapping the ashes of her cigarette onto the floor. “That’s the only way this ends.”

“No, Fräulein. There is another way but you will not like it.”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #1940s #1940s bucky #40s bucky #40s au #hydra au #dark bucky x you #dark bucky x reader #dark bucky barnes

[axinite25]

I just have too many ideas going on in here

#bishova #kate bishop #yelena belova #fanfic #fanfiction #axinwrites #wlw #hawkeye #black widow #werewolf au #werewolf Kate #hydra #hydra au #i may pick either anyway #i just wanna know what people will want #dw this is after i finish soul

[potatothots]

Good Morning

(Hydra AU)

Rating: M

Pairings: dark Winter Soldier x You/Reader

Warnings: canon-level typical violence allusions, mentions of a hard on, non-con drugging

Summary: Hydra won, but somehow you slept through it. The Winter Soldier goes to tell you the good news. 

Edited poorly by this potato.

You woke up with a startled, undignified noise. Your skin was crawling: the same sensation as when someone watches you. Your sleep filled eyes looked around the room before landing on him. 

James Buchannon Barnes. Bucky. The Winter Soldier. 

He stood at a relaxed sort of attention. As if he'd been there for hours and nothing had happened to the point he was bored. 

Except, he had his tactical gear on. The revelation startled you. You looked at the clock - 6:30am. You couldn’t recall him needing to be on a mission. 

"Why are …" 

As your attention went back to him your words caught in your throat. He was so close now. You hadn’t heard him move. You cursed your muddled brain. 

"Mission successful." 

His voice was low and gravely. You wondered when he last spoke. 

"There was no mission." You responded, still confused with the situation. 

His face was emotionless, but his eyes were invested in you. He trailed a flesh finger down your arm. Your white blanket was pulled with it until it tangled against your forearms as you moved to stop him. He let out a hum and simply trailed his finger back up to rest at your collarbone. The touch left goosebumps despite his ever high body temperature. 

He climbed on top of you. He was dirty with the smell of gunsmoke and blood. He settled, his weight causing your legs to shift to let him lay between them. You could see the grime left behind on your bedding. The overwhelming scent of his sweat and polluted air invaded your senses. 

You grunted, trying to shove him away. "Get off."

He wrapped his arms around your body like an octopus. It didn't matter he ignored your free arms. You couldn't hurt him enough without using your powers. You weren't looking to do that until you figured out what was going on. 

"Mission complete. Successful." He murmured against the skin of your neck. 

"What mission?"

There was a long pause. He kissed the skin under your ear. 

"Hydra won." 

The short statement made you freeze. He trailed sloppy kisses down your neck, stopping at the top of your sleep shirt. With the way he was laying you could feel his cock harden.

"Are you not happy?" His voice was softer than before. Almost as if there was a fear of rejection under the gravelly sound. 

"No. No, I'm not!" Your voice got louder each time you said "no," until you were screaming.

Your body caught up with your mind. Your power licked at your skin. The Soldier let out an annoyed huff. He pulled a small syringe from his pocket. Sitting up, he jabbed it into the fleshy part of your upper arm. 

It happened so fast. He was faster than you on a normal day, but you should have been able to defend yourself quicker than this. 

Had you been drugged last night? 

He caught your struggling arms by the wrists. "Shh. Sleep." 

Your chest felt like it was pushing up a brick every time you sucked in air. Your eyelids grew heavy. You mumbled a few more "no's." Tears streamed from the corners of your eyes. 

He let go of your arms, laying them by your sides. He cradled your face in his large hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears. 

"Sleep now." The soldier leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips. 

It was delicate despite his chapped lips and your stale breaths. It was a kiss you could have cherished if the situation was different. 

You fought sleep. He didn't seem to mind anymore as he settled back down. This time against your side. As he held you he hummed a song you couldn't quite make out as the tiredness won out.

#winter solider x you #winter soldier fic #the winter soldier #winter solider x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #hydra!au #hydra au #dark!winter soldier #dark!winter soldier x reader #dark!winter soldier x you #dark winter soldier #dark winter soldier x reader #dark winter soldier x you

[lunarbuck]

Reset - Eight

Возвращение на Родину

Pairing: The Winter Soldier x f!Reader

WC: 3k

Warnings/Tags: somnophilia, oral (f recieving), mentions of infertility, fluff

series masterlist | my masterlist | ao3 | @hydravictrix | fic playlist

AN: i'm sorry this update is not only late but short :/ i hope you still enjoy it &lt;3 thank you as always to @purpleshallot for being an incredible beta, this fic would not have been posted if not for you my dear

please feel free to send me any requests for one-shots /drabbles /headcanons you have for this series!! we’re almost done with fic so i can post them once the series is over :)

chapter 7 / chapter 9

Куколка

"How'd you know this was here?" you ask as James pulls the car around to a little private jet hangar.

James shuts off the engine and sighs, running a hand through his hair. It's gotten so long that it's almost always in his eyes. "I worked in Madripoor for a bit and had to come through here a few times. Figured it'd be worth a shot to see if anyone left their jets here." You nod, climbing out of the car and following James into the building.

Inside, you see an old jet covered in a thick layer of dust. You can tell it didn't get much use even before Hydra's takeover just by looking at it. James pulls open the door and examines the controls, mumbling to himself as he checks them.

You look over the jet's exterior for any damage, but you don't find any. Hope starts to brighten your thoughts. If James knows how to fly this jet and it works, you can be in Vietnam by tonight.

You watch James go through the motions of inspecting the jet. Though his movements are rehearsed, you wouldn't describe them as robotic. They are muscle memory, almost like a dance.

It comes to you in small moments like this; the realization that James is so much more than a soldier, so much more than the man that Hydra made him.

He catches your gaze, and you see hope in those bright blue eyes of his. Hope. It's such a fleeting, delicate thing. But despite it all, he is hopeful, and you can't help but smile at the sight.

"It can fly?" you ask, curling your fingers into fists with anticipation.

"Yes." Your heart speeds up in your chest. Leaving the United States for Vietnam will change things. You'll know no one there, have no friends, no family. You'll only have James.

Once you leave, there's no going back.

You chide yourself. You've been past the point of no return for so long. The moment you admitted your attraction to James, the moment you gave up on hope for Steve's return, the moment you let James into your mind. You fell off the deep end a long time ago.

James helps you climb into the jet and straps you in. His hands linger on your hips, your ribcage, your neck. He sweetly cares for you in a way you know he wasn't trained to.

This isn't the Winter Soldier. This is James.

Maybe it's not the James that Steve knew, but he's still in there. Little pieces of the man he used to be.

James readies the jet for flight quickly, fueling it up and opening the hangar with an expertise you should have come to expect from him, and then you're off. 

Hanoi is beautiful. Maybe it's just because of the change of scenery, but you swear that the colors here are more vibrant. Hydra's cancerous touch hasn't tainted this city, and you breathe better knowing that.

There are people out, living their lives in a way you haven't seen in years. It takes you a moment to adjust to the nostalgic yet unfamiliar feeling of it all. 

James stands by your side, a protective hand on the small of your back, as the two of you weave through the streets. You can tell he's on edge because of the number of people around, but you soak it all in and feed off of the energy of the city. 

The flight was almost four hours, and the sun is setting by the time you and James find somewhere to stay. A little hostel that hasn't seen many tourists in recent times.

Right outside of the hostel are a few food vendors. You don't know where James got the money, but he pays and even tips the vendor after getting food for the two of you.  

You sit on the porch of the hostel, watching the nightlife of Hanoi emerge as you eat. It's almost funny to watch James eat his Phở; the chopsticks and soup spoon look comical in his metal fingers, but he uses them like a seasoned pro. 

"Where do we go next?" you ask James, stirring your own soup around with your chopsticks.

"There's a village close by, only 10 or 15 minutes away. I think it's a good option." You nod, savoring the flavors of your Phở. You've had it a few times in the States, but it was never this good. 

"And then what?"

Silence sits heavily between the two of you. You'd never spoken about what your future together would look like. Would James even want to be with you now that he's truly free of Hydra? He doesn't seem to think of you as his prisoner anymore, so why would he feel any obligation to remain with you?

"And then we live." 

"You want to stay together?" James' eyes dart to yours, clearly taken aback by your assumption that he'd just leave you behind.

"Of course I do." You can tell you hurt his feelings by asking that, and your heart tugs in your chest. Careful not to spill your soup, you shift to press your side against James. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling him relax beneath you. 

"What does the future look like to you?" He takes his time responding. You know what those Hydra documents said and how he reacted. Maybe the plans he once had for the future had to change.

"It looks like you, принцесса. It looks like you and me in whatever you'll let me have you. I want to make you happy; I want to give you the world." He stops himself, but you can tell he wants to say more. 

You rub circles on his knee with your fingers, encouraging him to continue. "Those documents," he starts, voice tight. "If what they say is true, then I cannot give you everything."

He means children.

The Hydra documents explained that because of the serum, James is infertile. Your stomach turns at the thought of them performing those tests; you know he did not go into them willingly.

Part of you had already come to terms with this knowledge; Steve was also infertile. The night he'd told you, he'd cried. Steve wanted children more than anything and knowing that he wouldn't be able to killed him inside.

Steve tried treatment after experimental treatment, but because of everything else the serum did to his body, he was resistant to them. You'd told Steve that you didn't care that he couldn't have children. You loved him either way.

Now, as you sit beside James, you want to say the same thing.

"You don't need to give me children to make me happy, James," you say softly. "We can be happy in our own way." You feel him nod, but you know he probably doesn't believe you.

"It is probably for the best that I cannot have children. What kind of father could I be?" You can hear the disgust in his voice, and it sparks anger in your gut. You sit up and grip James' face with both your hands, forcing him to look at you.

"Don't talk like that," you say sternly. "You didn't have any say in the shit they did to you. How do you know you'd be a bad father? You care about me, right? You keep me safe? How do you know that it would be any different with children? You don't. You don't get to talk like that." James' eyes widen at your tone; you've never really spoken to him like that. But he nods in understanding before tipping his head forward to touch his forehead to yours.

"You would be a wonderful mother," he whispers. Your heart tightens in your chest, it aches slightly with what could have been, but the ache dissipates because what use is it to mourn what never could have been. 

James looks at you, confused and concerned about what you might say next. You're not sure where your confidence in his ability to parent came from, but you stand by it.

He's been through so much, suffered so much; he deserves the joy and happiness that children can bring to life. It would be difficult, he'd have a lot to learn, but something in your gut is screaming at you that he could do it.

You hadn't given much thought about what it would be like to raise a child you and James had created. What they would look like, and what their personality would grow into.

All the lessons the child would learn. 

The world is fucked up and horrible, but a child could be the light at the end of the tunnel.

You sigh and let the conversation fade. 

You have James, and that's enough for you.

James

Мой ангел is tired, so she goes to bed before I do. Once she is settled in the room, I step back outside.

It has started to rain, and the moon faintly illuminates the rolling gray clouds that crowd the sky. I cannot tear my mind away from what she said earlier.

I know that мой ангел would have wanted children if things worked out differently. She probably had plans for a family with the Captain before I'd ruined it all. 

She has so much love inside of her, so much empathy. She would make a wonderful mother. Her children would grow up to be just like her; kind and sweet and beautiful.

Before her, I had never thought of children. They were merely an inconvenience, a hazard. But when I found her, when I realized that my life would never be the same without her...

To think of something that could be ours, not Hydra's, not SHIELD's, but ours. It makes my head spin and my heart tighten in my chest. Would they look like her? With her beautiful eyes and bright smile? Would they have my dimpled chin and dark hair? 

I had never thought of such things before, but now, my heart yearns for them. It is almost like a cruel punishment for all of the pain I have brought onto this world.

Whatever divine power at play does not see me fit to have such joy. 

It isn't until the sun is rising that I realize how long I have been away from her.

I return to the bedroom and lay in bed beside her, holding her close to my chest until she wakes. As мой ангел's breathing changes, signaling her starting to wake up, I shift around her and settle myself between her legs underneath the blanket.

She fell asleep just in one of my shirts and her panties, and it is a beautiful sight. I place light kisses along the waistband of her underwear before carefully sliding them down her legs.

I watch her face for any discomfort or confusion, but all I see is a pleasant smile on her features. 

She stretches lazily and settles back into the pillows with a sigh as I trail my fingers along her inner thighs.

Моя куколка, always one to please me, opens her legs more, and my mouth waters at the sight of her bare before me. I cannot hold myself back.

My tongue finds her clit, and I slowly lave over it in gentle circles. She tastes sweeter than any fruit; I can't get enough of her. Back in the compound, when I fantasized about what pleasure I could have with a woman, it was always about her pleasuring me. Me taking my pleasure from her.

This is so different. The way that I yearn to taste her, to see her writhing on my fingers and my cock, it's so new. I need her to feel as amazing as she makes me feel; she deserves it. 

I have never wanted to make anyone feel anything before. Still, I know that I will not leave this bed, leave her beautiful thighs, until she is begging and pleading for me to release her.

I feel her fingers tangle in my hair and tug. Even in her sleep, she is so powerful and strong-willed. I let her guide my head and tongue where she wants me and as her grip tightens, I know she is waking.

"James," she whispers, voice filled with sleep.

"Принцесса," I reply, lightly biting her inner thigh. 

"Please don't stop." So I don't. I pour every piece of me into her, working her up higher and higher until she is so close to that edge, just about to fall over it.

When she comes, her whole body reacts, tightening up into a ball of energy that she unleashes upon me. It is beautiful.

I come up for air, emerging from beneath the blankets to мой ангел panting and blissed out. A smile tugs at my lips, and I wonder if life can truly get better than this. 

That is all I thought about last night as I stared at the homes of other people, as I imagined the two of us here in this new place. 

Моя куколка finally calms her breathing and tucks herself into my chest. She is warm against my skin, but I welcome her, running my fingers along her back and neck.

I have never had a home. Houses, places I've lived, of course. But never home. Now, I hold her in my arms; I feel the press of her cheek against my chest, and the ache in my heart eases. She is my home.

When she is out of my sight, out of my reach, I feel what I can only describe as homesickness. It is a new feeling, one that makes me hurt all the way down to my long-lost soul. She is the only remedy.

The drive to Bat Trang is quick but beautiful. Мой ангел gazes out her window the entire time, and every time I glance over at her, I am taken aback by her beauty. 

Before her, I never knew such beautiful creatures could exist in such an awful world. 

We arrive in the village and leave the car; I want to walk around with her. 

The village is known for pottery making, and as we walk around, I see мой ангел's  eyes light up at the sight of all the different creations. She wiggles her fingers when she sees a woman forming a beautiful vase. I hope she takes up pottery making.

As we get further into the village, we are greeted by people working outside their homes. Мой ангел smiles, and I can see her settling in already.

Before we arrived in Vietnam, I'd found a man in the village who was looking for someone to care for his home while he traveled for a few months. 

I arranged for it to be us. We only have to walk for a little longer until we arrive at his home. 

It is small, just one bedroom, a kitchen, and a living area, but it is enough for us.

Мой ангел walks through the home with a pleasant smile on her face the whole time.

"This is perfect, James," she says, placing her hand on my arm. I kiss the top of her head and revel in the simple beauty of the action.

"I have a surprise for you," I say against her hair.

Мой ангел tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as she smiles, unable to hide her excitement for what the surprise could be.

Beside the house is a few acres of empty land. I walk моя куколка out of the building and out toward the middle of the land.

"I want to give you the world," I say, voice tight with emotion that I have not experienced before. "But until then, I want to give you a home."

Confusion flickers across her gaze as she tries to understand what I've just said.

"We already have a place to stay; what do you mean?"

I look around at the land surrounding us. I imagine our possible future, and it finally is within reach.

"This is where I will build our home," I say, turning back to her. I take мой ангел's  hands in mine, running my thumbs over her smooth skin. "This is where we will live our lives."

Tears pool in the corner of her eyes, and I release her hands to wipe them away. I know they are happy tears. She is not afraid of me.

"James," she whispers.

"I would burn this world to the ground, raze cities. I would follow you to hell and back. The least I can do for you is give you a home, принцесса ."

She laughs and leans up on her toes to kiss me. She tastes sweet as she presses against me, and I wrap my hands around her waist to pull her closer.

I have already figured out where I will get the materials from and what our home will look like.

When it comes to her, everything is so easy. It all falls into place with little effort. I imagine building our home will be the same.

I look forward to working with my hands, to finally creating something instead of destroying it.

No longer the fist of Hydra, I am fulfilling my new destiny.

Knowing that Zemo was the one to give up our location still makes my blood boil, but despite his hatred for super soldiers, I remain. 

John Walker wanted us dead or captured by Hydra, but he failed. At every turn, when someone has been there to stop us, we have fought tooth and nail and won.

It gives me hope; it helps me find peace within myself. There is more to this world than pain and violence. I just have to open my eyes to it.

Translations:

ангел = angel

куколка (f) = little doll

принцесса (f) = princess

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Series tags - 18+ only!! must have age in bio - message me to be added &lt;3

@/cwbucky @emmabarnes @w0nderw0man-reading @summerofsnowflakes @winter-soldier-101 @littlered6307 @peaches1958 @callingsergeantbarnes @fandoms-writings @prettywhenicry4 @zombiexbody @trinitytheinfinityromanoff @cjand10 @buckybarnesandmarvel @red42985 @thats-a-gaybie @hallecarey1 @snugglingbucky @/goldylions @wickidlady @saraissleepy @buckybarnesthots @shirukitsune @elizacusi-blog @kitty1960 @searchf0rtheskyline @buckyshbic

#jane’s writing #reset #hydra au #hydra victory au #hydra victory #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x yn #the winter soldier fanfiction #bucky barnes the winter soldier #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #James bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #marvel fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes marvel #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #fem!reader #marvel fanfiction #James buchanan barnes #Steve rogers #brock rumlow #dark fic

[modu-exists]

“Unable are the loved to die. For love is immortality.”

Oc AU lol

When King was framed for killing the queen, Damian led the manhunt to catch and find him. And he accidentally killed King in the process in this au. Kings ghost is either a hallucination or kings actual spirit, either way, he’s haunting Damian.

Inspo by this song

And by this post

#lgbt #gay #asexual #oc stuff #hydrafisk #damian hydrafisk #king Goldenheart #Oc au #oc ships #Oc angst #hydra au

[little-blog-of-horrors]

"Хорошая работа, любовь моя."

Hydra lovers. Hydra verse, the Handler and his Beast. Vincent Russev Soviet black ops - Red Ghost

#vincent #red ghost #winter soldier #hydra au #my art

[burnedbxnesrumlow]

“I’m here- I’m here, now”

Brock was bruised, bloody, and shivering, he’d been left chained up in a cell with no clothes, doused in cold water, and he was certain that there was no heat routed to the cell either. Fucking bastards. Were they going to leave him here to freeze to death or what? He didn’t even really know where he was, if he was being honest with himself. He was taken, that much he knew. Had Steve let it happen, or was it not according to plan? Either way, the people that took him had delighted in beating the ever-loving fuck out of him, leaving him weak and exhausted. Every free moment he had to himself was spent trying to recover or trying to find a way out. He wanted blood and revenge, something he had been desperately seeking since Steve had trapped him at Hydra, this recent brutality had only rekindled that spark.

He was just thinking about how he might try and accomplish that goal with his current captors when he heard a scuffle outside the cell door. He tried to push himself up a bit just in case he had to be ready to fight (a tough ask given his current predicament). The door nearly burst off its hinges and Brock flinched away at the sound of rending metal. His heart was pounding and he feared he might have a heart attack. No, he couldn’t entertain that idea, he would live. He opened his eyes and there he saw him. Fucking Steve Rogers. His initial guarded reaction was tempered slightly by the supposed softness in Steve’s voice as he said ‘I’m here’. He desperately wished he wasn’t still endeared to Steve’s softer side, the side he loved so much before the whole ruse was revealed. His eyes were locked on Steve, trying to decipher his intentions. Aside from assessing just what Steve had planned now, Brock saw the blood spattered across his face and assumedly staining such dark patches into his suit. Part of Brock wished that the blood was Steve’s, but he knew it wasn’t. No one could even dream to touch the Captain, those who dared were dead before they even made a move to try.

“You’re here to take me back, aren’t you?” He asked. A part of Brock thought it would almost have been a mercy to have died at some point while his captors were beating him. It would have spared him having to go back to Hydra, but even then, Brock knew Steve wouldn’t let him go that easy. Steve probably would have found some way to bring him back anyways.

@cptnrgers

#cptnrgers #hydra au

[buckrecs]

2023 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 4

masterlist | ✨- fav fics | status - updating

All Of Them are COMPLETED Series

1. Finding Home by @jobean12-blog

Bucky x Reader Animal Rescue AU

You meet Bucky while he’s out walking Alpine in the city. It’s love at first sight and to make it even better he just opened up an Animal Rescue, Shelter to Solider.  But will his past stand in the way of him finally finding his home. 

2. Welcome Home… Soldat? by @winterarmyy

Winter Soldier!Bucky x Reader

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

3. Winter Makes Ice by @subwaysurf45

Bucky x Hydra Experiment!Reader

you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title.

4. ice ice baby by @endless-summer-soldier

College Hockey Player!Bucky x College Figure Skater!Reader

Bucky is a college hockey player, Y/N is a figure skater without a partner. What's happens when these two opposites start sharing the ice...

5. Right + Click + Save by @syntheticavenger

Bucky x Reader

Working from home has it’s perks, especially when it comes to helping a technologically unsavvy super soldier try to navigate a dating site.

6. Lonely Night by @marvelouslizzie

Roommate!Bucky x Reader

Your crush on your roommate gets out of hand. His smile ruins you in a way you never expected.

7. Like Breathing by @bucky-fricking-barnes

Bucky x Shifter!Reader

Bucky’s life in Cove is far from perfect, mostly because Cove’s residents want nothing more than to scare him away. Luckily for you, Bucky isn’t easily scared off.

8. Where Dreams Go To Die by @insomniumstella

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Steve’s silly joke happened to inspire the best, or possibly the worst, idea Wanda had ever come up with — send James Buchanan Barnes and y/n on an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii. the problem? they cannot stand to be around each other.

9. Make the Wave by @lostgirlmuseum

Bucky x Reader

You invite both your best friend and your boyfriend to a three-day weekend getaway at a beach resort. This trip was meant to be relaxing, but tensions and jealousies rise as both Miles and Bucky fight for your attention. 

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier!bucky x reader #bucky barnes modern au #bucky barnes college au #athlete!bucky #bucky x hydra!reader #roommate!bucky #best friend!bucky

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 232

Once more thinkin of These Series of AU/Prompts, where the Class pulls a Tiamat. Becomes Giant Hydra Dragon. But with some inspiration from @radiance1's Blob King AUs. Specifically also the dragon ones.

Now, the nine of them are admittedly far older than they once were. Far older than most of the people outside the cage they were tricked into all those years before, exhaustion seeping into their bones as their ectoplasm was siphoned away.

Yet no matter how much the GIW drains away- if they're even called as such anymore- they never run out. If anything, at least from what they've noticed, unable to do much of anything else in this pit, this tank of green and red, they seem to be making more.

Their recollection of being separate, of having separate bodies have long since slipped away in exchange for keeping memories of their families and friends long gone now. Perhaps they're in the zone, as ghosts, but perhaps not.

Days feel like both seconds and years, words falling away as their Core hums as one. Sometimes a Blob ghost manages to find its way inside- the trap designed not to stop things from getting in, but to prevent them from leaving.

They always disappear whenever the ecto is taken away, not having enough to continue holding on to a physical form. But... the blobs don't stay gone. Their own ecto brings them back, tiny forms almost mimicking their own.

It's something to distract them, something to actually do besides growl at the figures beyond the barriers around them. The blobs don't speak, don't make more than squeaks, but it's something. Almost like dozens of toddlers floating around, becoming more and more draconic in shape with every siphon.

Do their captors realize, they wonder, how they've made them all stronger than they were even before? Do they realize what they've done, creating this loop of ever-growing power?

No, Star giggled, pink and gold scales shimmering as she bobbed her head in amusement, Paulina's darker purples following.

They don't know, Wes agreed, dark amusement echoed by both Sam and Dash, fangs flashing amidst the liquid. The trap would not be able to contain them for much longer, they all knew. They could feel it, how the siphon stuttered with every run.

It wouldn't be long now. They had waited three hundred years for the chance to escape- they could wait for a few days more.

...

Though they won't complain about an early prison break if those alarms are anything to go by.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #prompts #the class pulls a tiamat #blob ghosts are dragons au #It's not the league who has broken into the lab and I almost feel bad for the villains who opened the blast doors #Reminder of who is part of the hydra: Danny Sam Tucker Wes Dash Paulina Kwan Valerie & Star #I am tempted for the hydra to give off scp 682 / undead vibes when they first burst free from the now cracked open doors #Like it gives off the vibe of These Doors Being Closed For A REASON #There's also the fact that the hydra was said to guard an entrance to the afterlife and I'm not NOT saying there's parallels with the porta #I'm also not saying the ennead wouldn't eat a GIW person or three on the way out #And while a rogue or several might have opened the door something That Big isn't going to go unnoticed #Especially if it's bursting out of the ground or out of a mountain #Morally gray ennead because they've lost everything save for their lil blobs & aren't afraid of taking a little retribution #go wild

[gaysindistress]

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest Warnings: Nothing is explicit, but since Bucky is lowkey inspired by Hans Landa, take care of yourself and skip if you need to. Mentions of being stabbed/stabbing someone. part one - untitled

Tag list: @learisa @svtelliteseb

A sharp pain struck his chest from deep within. Perhaps this pain was in his heart but that would require such an organ to still be beating there and the shriveled piece of flesh in its place had died long ago. 

One hand reached for the stability of a wall while the other clasped his face in agony. Desperate for some form of relief, he clutched at the bleeding wound but he knew that it was in vain. Instead he ignored it, working through it, using it to fuel strength that would provide him with a way out of this mess. But nothing seemed to work. For a moment he thought about everything he might lose if he gave in to the pain and everything that would come of it. The war had already started and the nation he worked for was quickly advancing, their plan moving faster than the leadership was prepared for but greed powered them. A greed that was as old as time itself; the desire to dominate and obtain power. He never believed in any of it. He had an understanding of how the world worked and knew that his survival in this dog eat dog world depended on his ability to blend in. Their symbols meant nothing to him. Their ideology was not his driving force and if anyone dared to slander him with their name, he would calmly remind them that only the uneducated and ignorant fall prey to the pretty words of the powerful. 

Just because he wore the uniform did not mean he, himself, was one of them nor did he believe in their ideology. 

However it seemed as though he was the only one that shared that sentiment and the evidence was in the way pain laced through his face and blood poured down his hand. He had tried to explain to her, his sweet Fräulein, that he was only breaking his promise to protect her and himself. It was a matter of safety and concern that he went back on the one thing that he had, his word. She had not seen it that way and was sooner to slit his throat if he tried to speak again. 

She had stumbled into the wall across from him and was failing at keeping herself upright as she stared at him. Hot tears filled her eyes as she held that dagger in front of her and stared at him. Hatred, fear, judgment, and most importantly dying love swimmed in her eyes. The last emotion hurt him more than the blade that sliced his face and eye. 

“Fräulein,” he muttered as he too struggled to keep from falling, “let’s talk.”

“Talk?” she spat at him, “You want to talk?”

“Please.” It was unlike him to beg or plead or even ask but for her he would. 

“No.”

“Fräulein.”

She pushed up against the wall with her free hand and slowly inched her way to the door that led to her freedom. She watched him with an unwavering gaze as she slipped further and further from his grasp. 

“No, I do not want to talk to you. I do not want anything from you ever again, James.”

She was only feet from the door when he spoke, “Don’t go. I can keep you safe. I can care for you now.”

“I will kill you if I ever see you again,” she whispered as she dropped the pathetic shard of glass she’d used as a dagger and ran. 

He let out a pained yell and called out her name but she was gone. 

“No, Fräulein. There is another way but you will not like it.”

Her nose twitches at the underlying message behind his words. Of course he would threaten to kidnap her. She wasn’t surprised, more disappointed that he had fallen so far into the clutches of their enemy. 

“And what exactly is this other way?”

James thought for a moment, taking another drag of his cigarette and let the smoke sit in his mouth. He let it slowly flow between parted lips before he inhaled it again through his nose and blew it back out. The silence felt like an answer to her question but she was a naturally curious person and would demand words instead of his chosen quiet. 

“I should be thanking you.” he says as he snuffs out his finished cigarette, “Your lovely parting gift has worked in my favor.” She raises an eyebrow but says nothing. 

“The new recruits seem to think I earned it during a fight with our enemy.”

Our. 

She rolls her eyes at him and pulls her cardigan around her tighter as the early morning breeze sweeps in. With it are ashes and the smell of fire, no doubt coming from the fire outside. 

“Although I wouldn’t call you an enemy. An annoyance, a thorn in my side, maybe but never my enemy.”

The confidence in his voice is astounding and it gets worse the more he speaks, “The other way isn’t favorable but you know better than anyone that I will do whatever it takes to get what I want.”

“And that is why you don the uniform of a Hydra officer? A pathetic Nazi swine nonetheless?”

His jaw tightens and his fingers that rest on the table beside him tense. The chair groans once more as he stands and circles the table to stand next to her. They hold each other’s stare as he pushes her chair back and forces her to make room for him to kneel in front of her. He peels the glove from his left hand where a thin silver band rests on his ring finger; a twin to the one that she wears on chain around her neck. He takes her left hand in his and rubs his thumb over her ring’s indentation has long faded. 

She wants to tear her hand away and slap him but she can’t. She’d lost her husband that night two years ago and in his place is a monster that wears his face and uses his voice to seduce her. What a sweet death it would be to allow herself to fall into his arms and let him make good on his promises. Instead her vision becomes blurry as tears fill her eyes. Agonizing pain radiates from her side and threatens to crush her insides from within. Her mind races, half panicked, half confused, as she stares at James in disbelief. There must be an answer to this pain and she looks down to see find a knife sticking out from her side. An endless sleep begs for her to close her eyes. Her head feels light, everything around her starting to spin and a feeling of nauseousness keeps up slowly as she weakly shoves at him. He grabs the back of her head and shushes her while pulling her into him. Tears pour from her eyes and her hands become wet with blood, trembling and her teeth are gritted. 

“I am sorry, my sweet Fräulein. A world without either of us is not worth living in so you’ll have to forgive me for ensuring that we will not be apart.”

Such pretty words from such a powerful man.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #dark bucky x you #dark bucky x reader #dark bucky barnes #1940s bucky #1940s #40s bucky #40s au #hydra au

[muzzleroars]

Lucifer, as the Old Dragon

Lucifer, and all of his angels with him, had been punished by God to exist as a mindless, writhing mass with the bodies of those that survived melded with the corpses of so many that died on impact. Only Lucifer remained fully conscious and aware of himself, tortured by their fate and all the pain of the bodies he was now attached to. Seeing the divine but formless mass, Hell was enchanted - in particular, it saw the beauty of Lucifer as its shining core, so radiant even in ashes, and so it made a body for him, for them. The first work coming as an unknowing collaboration between God and Hell, it crafted Lucifer into a great serpentine form - his halo it repurposed as a face, building up oil-slick skin and displaying Lucifer as its centerpiece in great joy. It grew into them, the walls and brutally frozen lake of Cocytus trapping them all as much as Michael's chains and lodged spear, while its own mass mingled with the bodies of angels. The remains of those lost now bleed eternally from its belly, failing to revive despite Hell's best efforts.

#lucifer #ultrakill oc #FINALLY.....got this done.... #this is how i would 'canonically' see lucifer #guy does not move freely and won't until he's released #but i have an ask coming up where i wrote a million words about that so. here he is for now!! #OH and the set of heads at the base of their neck is 100% based on the smt satan design #i wanted the multiple heads he's described with in revelation #but a hydra look wasn't working and i love that satan design so!! #doodle tag #body horror tw #say hi to the bad scribble of v1 for scale lol #rise and fall au

[buckets-and-trees]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To be the White Wolf…

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

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

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

Bucky won’t leave a trail either.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn you idiots,” he murmurs.

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

That was a month ago.

He knows the status of Steve.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He must wait.

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

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

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

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

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

But he only needs long enough to get you out.

He will have that.

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

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

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

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

Lethal force for everyone it is, he thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he sees the unthinkable.

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

“What the hell are you doing?”

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

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

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

But why?

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky frowns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cap and the Howling Commandos back in the old war.

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

He doesn’t trust it.

This is another trap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This simple scene nearly knocks him to his knees.

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

But still, he is quiet, cautious.

His entire chest aches for you.

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

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

He almost doesn’t dare to breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, it’s more than that.

“You’re angry with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He murmurs your name softly against your shoulder.

“Mmm?”

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

It had made the separation all the more painful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Also what?”

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

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

“It’s not?”

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

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

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

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

“Only you,” he says, no question.

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

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

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

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

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

“Need you inside me,” you plead.

He nods while turning and tossing you onto the bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on, darling, let go.”

“No.”

That shocks him but doesn’t slow him down.

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

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

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

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

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

“That was…”

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

“Intense?”

“Yes.”

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

“Never let me go.”

“Never again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Buck?” you murmur against his neck.

“Mmm?”

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

He sighs. “Can you blame me?”

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

“There’s so much to think through.”

“Start with one thing.”

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

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

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

He nips your shoulder. “My gutsy omega.”

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

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

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

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

“Second,” you continue, your tone altering to something more somber, “he took me to lure you to him, so the most logical thing was to stay and wait for you.”

“Ah,” Bucky nods, the smallest of smiles taking over his mouth. “My smart omega.”

“And third,” you continue, though your words tone is cautious now, and you drop your eyes to his chest.

“Yes?” he urges you to finish the thought.

“He’s my alpha, too.”

This isn’t news – he’s known it from the second he witnessed that bite to claim you, he thought of it frequently while he was hunting for you both, he knew it would be the new reality, you’d even discussed the two bonds together in this bed – and yet having to think about it yet again in this light is still straining on him.

Clearly you feel his unrest, because your hands come up to cup his face and basically attempt to soothe him with gentle but insistent strokes along his jaw. “Bucky, I’m always going to be yours.”

He sighs and angles his head down to touch his forehead to yours. “I know.”

And it’s not jealousy that drives his unrest – it’s the not knowing what this means, not right now and not for the future. He’s started thinking about possibilities, but he’s limited until he can confront the other alpha. So, he decides to concentrate on what it has meant so far.

He makes sure his tone is soft but serious when he asks, “Did he hurt you?”

You’re quiet for a beat, then say, “I don’t know how to answer that.”

Bucky starts to sit up, but you pull him back down to the mattress, trying earnestly to soothe him. “What he did hurt us both, and it was meant to hurt. It was absolutely calculated. But they broke him, Bucky. They tortured him and tried to make him comply for weeks. They were experimenting on Sam, trying to pull the science they could from old records on you and what they could pull from analyzing Steve’s blood, but they weren’t having success, and so they enacted their last use for Sam – and they killed him in front of Steve. It destroyed him.”

Bucky’s own chest aches as he listens, throbbing painfully at this reveal, and his vibranium hand fists the sheet.

“And when he was at his most devastated and spent emotionally, what I have been able to piece together is that that’s when he couldn’t stand to feel anymore, shut off his emotions – or his humanity more like, and it’s his humanity that made him Steve. That’s when they were able to take over and mold him into the fist they wanted in Captain Hydra.”

Hurt, anger, the horror of his own past life as the Winter Soldier, it’s surging through his veins, but you continue.

“So that night in Wakanda? That was Captain Hydra at his height of cruelty. I haven’t seen that iteration of him since that night. It’s been slow, but he’s different now. He’s not our Steve, but he’s not Captain Hydra.”

It’s a few moments before he registers that you’re done – at least with that piece of sharing.

He cups your jaw and looks into your eyes. “Do you trust him?”

He sees you clearly put thought into your words before answering, worrying your bottom lip. “The heat he and I shared was intense in every way. It changed things fundamentally between us, but since the heat our connection has still been very tenuous. We’ve both been very guarded with each other. I know he’ll keep me safe, but I’m still wary of him.”

He nods.

“Where is he right now?”

A wry laugh tumbles out of your chest. “I don’t even know where we are right now, Bucky. I know we got off a train in Bordeaux, but then he moved us here while I was in one of my heavy end of heat sleeps. From the food, books, and supplies he’s brought for us, I know we’re in France, but that’s it. There’s not a lick of technology kept in here while I’m alone. We don’t even a radio.”

Bucky grunts at this news. He doesn’t like this, but other than being kept here cut off from the rest of the world and having claimed you and separated you in the first place, it seems you’ve been appropriately cared for.

“Wait, no radio?” He growls. Bucky had looked away to consider the new information, but his eyes snap to you again. “Have you had any music?”

“No,” you groan, and he can feel the pained irritation.

“That won’t do.” 

He quickly rolls off the bed to a small whine of protest from you, but it was so rare that he’d ever been in a space with you and there hadn’t been music playing – loud for you to sing, or low in the background keeping you company – and this is something he can fix easily.

He fishes the small communications device he had put together out of the pocket of his discarded pants, then comes back to sit on the foot of the bed and begins typing away. You’re quick to crawl up behind him, and you wrap your arms around his chest and settle your chin on his shoulder while he works. You don’t see the smile that breaks across his face as he feels your excited impatience radiate off you, having figured out what he’s doing. It’s so palpable he wouldn’t have needed your emotional bond as alpha and omega to sense it.

Once he’s modified his device to play music, it doesn’t take him much longer to hack into your music account. He pulls up the list of your most-played songs, picks one that he thinks will be perfect for this moment, and hits play.

You croon with joy and then fall back on the bed, arms spread out in pure rapture. He beams and then crawls up next to you, handing you the device. You hold it close to your chest with one hand and pull him in for a kiss with the other.

You break off the kiss so you can sing along to the chorus, and he laughs. He knows exactly the last time he felt this happy: the last day by the river with you in Wakanda. When the chorus is over, you actually kick your feet in delight, grinning at him. You kiss his nose, scoot your body as close to him as possible, then settle back into the mattress and pull his arm to rest over your stomach.

The two of you talk, sing, and continue to hold each other for a while. A string of two or three softer songs play, and you and up drifting into sleep, late afternoon sun pouring over both of you, its warmth too much for you to ignore after the physically and emotionally exhausting afternoon. He watches the rise and fall of your chest, his hand over your heart, no thought for time. He doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to take his eyes off you. How did he survive without you for all those weeks?

A flare of light across the room pulls his focus though. It’s a repetitive flashing coming through the window to the wall.

Morse code. His blissful mood evaporates.

C-O-M-E  O-U-T-S-I-D-E

The other alpha is out there, summoning him.

He identifies which window the light is being directed into, then pads over, and releases the drape to cover the window, pulls it back, covers it again, and then secures it back in its open state. The other alpha will know he’s received the message.

Bucky has referred to him as the other alpha for so long now, but he’s ultimately about to discover who this man is. You say he’s no longer The Captain Hydra that he was, but not yet his Steve either.

He doesn’t hurry getting dressed. The other alpha isn’t going anywhere. He’s waited this long. He can continue to wait.

Bucky takes a long look at you from across the room before he leaves.

He’s relatively sure he will come back to you. There’s only one outcome that will keep him away, and now that he knows the potential danger, he won’t let this man ambush him ever again.

Bucky stalks as carefully to the tree line where the signal had come from as he had when he’d first approached the little house. He can smell the other alpha on the breeze that rustles through the trees. He tracks him in a kilometer or so – not in the direction Bucky had left his vehicle, but that works fine for him because if he needs to cut and run, he’ll be able to get to you in the house and then continue on to get to the getaway without having to double back and without the other alpha being able to cut off the route.

Bucky will think through every possible scenario as each moment of this unfolds.

His brain got him here.

His brain can get him out.

He will keep you safe.

The scent he’s known nearly his whole life grows stronger, and when he reaches a small pocket of the forest devoid of trees – not quite large enough to be called a clearing – instead of slipping silently out of the shadows, the other alpha steps out unabashedly to meet him.

“What took you so long, Buck?” he has the gall to ask, his voice barely covering notes of anger.

Bucky roars and hurls himself at the man standing before him, taking him to the ground easily, and they scramble against each other. They’re so closely matched in skill, prowess, and power, and the energy they’re both exuding is raw, primal, and angry. Bucky is incredulous that the other man is angry with him.

His own rage lands him a punch. He takes a blow to the ribs, and the other alpha gets a hand on the collar of his shirt, resulting in a tear, but it allows Bucky to grab his wrist, twist him around harshly, and pin the arm behind his back as he decisively thumps him into the ground, pinning him there.

The man beneath him only makes two attempts to struggle and shift out from under his hold, but then he sighs and sags into the tall grass they’ve been tussling in.

Is he feinting?

Bucky honestly doesn’t know.

“Who am I talking to?” he asks – the same line of inquiry Steve used on him in an abandoned warehouse outside of Berlin.

He knows it, letting out a guffaw beneath him. “I’m not him anymore.”

“Not who?”

“I’m no longer their Captain Hydra,” he pauses before adding, “but I’m not the kid from Brooklyn either.”

Bucky knows they’re not going to stay like this forever, and he needs to see this man’s face and look into his eyes if he’s going to be able to sort out any of this, so as swiftly as he can, he releases the alpha, pushes himself up, and takes a wary stance a few meters away.

Steve remains on the ground, but rolls over and sits up, planting his feet on the ground, and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. It’s almost a casual.

Bucky will have the advantage of already being up on his feet if the man before him tries anything.

Bucky needs to know how to read whoever this is, so he decides to go with a different line of questioning – things that are more cut and dry.

“When you left the base in Geneva, there were two Hydra security with you. You stopped over a bridge two hours into your journey, and they weren’t with you when you switched vehicles in Albstadt. Who were they, and why the elaborate ruse only to drop them in a river so quickly?”

Rather than being surprised, it seemed he was satisfied that Bucky knew this much about what had played out. “Alright, we can start there. Leaving under the initial guise of a mission on security footage was supposed to be helpful when they started looking for me.”

“And why move the records of their transfer files to other facilities with two others?”

“I’m glad you picked up on that, too. Buying more time for some missing personnel before it was suspect and they figured out they really didn’t know where they were.”

“And why them?”

“Arbitrary.”

“Bullshit. You’ve gone on solo missions as Captain Hydra and you didn’t buy enough extra time by leaving with a two-man team to make it worth the set up only to drop them in the river without a reason.”

Steve’s brows knit together, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment before answering. “One was arbitrary. He just happened to be the roommate of my target. The one I was after? He was part of the extraction team who took our omega out of Turin. Specifically, he’s the one who handled her so roughly she had bruises from his casual brute strength. I watched the footage to figure out who hurt her.”

Bucky cocked his head and studied the man before him.

“I had only been an alpha to her for a month and I was willing to kill someone who harmed her. What are you going to do to me, Buck?”

Bucky turned and paced way, running his hands through his hair. He didn’t want to show this much unrest in front of the other alpha, but he was thinking and feeling so much, trying to read and decipher too many pieces.

He lets out a long exhale and just speaks the truth. He can’t try and take any other angle. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Before all of this, if there had ever been a situation in which Bucky would have needed to trust someone else to keep you safe, Steve would have been his immediate answer.

Steve waits silently.

There are so many questions he wants answers to, and so he starts asking them. The answers don’t shock him, and he can see that even when Steve doesn’t tell him the full truth, it’s a cautious guarding of information, but he detects no lies in any of it. That Steve has some guards up also seems tenuous, possibly temporary, like if he can only ask the right question, the tide will turn.

But it couldn’t be that simple with Steve, could it?

And when did he start to think of him as Steve again?

Bucky deals out one of the questions he’s had the longest, since the very beginning of this. “What you said that night in Wakanda – you did all of this to draw me out. Why?”

Steve lets it hang in the air for a moment, but Bucky can see this is a crux for this conversation with him, too.

“I can’t explain everything that went into that plan – I don’t know if the machine of Captain Hydra was fully in control or if part of the old me was trying to grasp at you as a lifeline, but as the weeks wore on, the strategist in me knew he needed either the Soldat to join him or his best friend to save him.”

Those words sink into Bucky, and he can understand that explanation as no one else in this world can.

“What took you so long?” Steve asks again, but this time it’s tinged only with angst, not anger.

The accusation in it unsettles Bucky.

He’s still not sure how to address the question, but he starts with, “The Soldat is gone. The Winter Soldier? Not who I needed to be to get here either.”

Steve pushes up from the ground but maintains the distance Bucky put between them. “Who are you now then?”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Depends on who’s standing in front of me.”

Steve looks off into the trees for a moment – in the direction of the cottage.

Bucky’s instincts have failed him less than a handful of times.

They’re telling him now that’s where to start, even though he’s not sure exactly where it will end. “I’ve seen a lot of versions of you – my childhood best friend, the punk who couldn’t stay out of trouble, the stars and stripes symbol, Captain America, the target who wouldn’t let me assassinate him and then refused to finish me off in the hellicarrier, the Cap who went against the Accords, Nomad in exile – but always Steve. You’ll never be who you were before – I never was. Doesn’t mean you’re irredeemable.”

Steve scoffs. “It’s not that easy.”

Bucky gives a wry laugh and shakes his head. “I more than know that. But you’re shades of all those men right now in front of me. She sees it, too.”

“God, she…” Steve shakes his head, puts one hand on his hip, and scrubs over his face with the other.

“If you can be you, if you can be Steve, she will have you.” He’s not sure where the words came from, but he himself believes them as he says them.

“I don’t know if I can be.”

“Do you want to be?”

Steve doesn’t answer immediately. Bucky can see him sincerely work over the question in his mind. It’s a simple inquiry, but one that will define everything, and Bucky knows he will be completely behind whatever answer he gives because that is the core of who this man is and always has been – fully committed to his convictions.

When Steve says, “Yes,” Bucky can hear the heaviness in his voice. Bucky nods.

“What about you?” Steve asks.

Bucky shifts his weight from one foot to the other as he digs back into himself and where his head, his heart, and his gut now sit with all of this. But the answer is clear enough. “Till the end of the line,” he answers.

“Even after I–“

“Stop,” Bucky cuts him off. “I’ve had little more to think about over the last six weeks than us – all of us. And it felt like my heart started beating again when I found her, but you… Before this I never fully understood why you fought so hard to get through to me when I was trying to kill you in DC all those years ago, why you searched for me for years, why you were a goddamn pain in the ass who wouldn’t abandon me in Berlin and believed in me without question, but now I get it. We are in each other’s bones.”

He doesn’t move, but Bucky sees the look change in Steve’s eyes, and he can practically feel the air alter between them. They’ve always had an acute awareness of each other, and Bucky can feel the tentative return of it, like déjà vu even though he’s still figuring out who this Steve is or who he will be.

“When did you start giving Captain America speeches?” Steve finally asks.

Bucky shrugs. “One of us had to do it.”

“What now then?”

Bucky has sketched out many scenarios for how things play out from here, but every stage of this, every new revelation shifts the direction they’re heading. Even in the last two minutes things have significantly shifted again.

Bucky licks his lips and stares at Steve for another beat before he decides to head down a path he hopes is the right one. “You’re always a man with a plan, so you tell me. Tell me where this started, when it changed, where you think it ends. I figured out a lot, I have theories, and I still have questions.”

“We went to Italy to investigate a lead that came up on our radar. We thought it was an innocuous enough whisper about a couple of Hydra scientists. And don’t,“ Steve pauses to pointedly look at him because Bucky was already opening his mouth to argue. “I already know you’re going to say we should have involved you, I thought of it every day they were holding us captive. I thought it the second I heard their boots. It was a week after you left for Wakanda, and Sam–“

He pauses again, and his shoulders fall just a fraction.

“Sam and I weren’t gonna bother you.”

“She told me about Sam,” Bucky says.

Steve closes his eyes for a moment, pressing his lips together. “I told her enough about what happened, but I didn’t tell her everything.” He opens his eyes and meets Bucky’s again. His face is truly haunted, and Bucky nods, his own chest tight. He knows more than enough about that. He had still had to face the demons of his past, but when he was ready, and he had fought to find his way to do that. Steve would find a way, but it would take time, and not likely be the same journey.

“After they killed Sam, they got a raw version of me, shut down, and they went to work conditioning me, shaping me into Captain Hydra. I was too lost to fight anything. I couldn’t save him. I failed us. I didn’t want to be me. It was easy too easy for them to get the version of me they wanted when I was like that.”

There’s a full shift in how Steve lays everything out – and as he shares, Bucky knows it’s still not everything, but he can feel that it’s everything Steve can bear to tell him.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Steve tilts his head and looks off into the forest. “It was and it wasn’t. It will always haunt me.”

“It will, but less and less.”

Bucky walks to the edge of the small clearing and sits on a fallen log. Steve follows him.

“When I was trying to find you after DC and taking down S.H.I.E.L.D. I read everything they had on record about you, how they conditioned you. They used some but not all the same methods on me.”

“I couldn’t find anything on you, and I found more than enough other hidden monstrosities in their networks these past weeks.”

“I think they got smarter after we were hunting them after exposing them – they couldn’t keep everything off the databases, but they have projects now that they keep paper-only, small teams. There was the team that captured us, but after they put us in a holding cell, we were transferred. From that point through the torture, the breaking point, and the conditioning I only saw four faces – three scientists and one officer who became my liaison. When they sent or let me out into the field, I never went with a team of more than four of their men, always the same four. Two of them I ended at that bridge.”

Bucky nods.

Already his mind is calculating – this means they could potentially contain and eliminate all of the people who knew any specifics about Captain Hydra.

“One of the scientists was killed when you stormed the facility in Turin.”

Bucky raises his brows. Even better.

Steve goes on to tell him about how he was sent on a few missions to test his loyalty before he was given the task to bring back the Soldat.

“I didn’t have a chair, and they were very adamant that my point person was my liaison and not a handler, they gave me a fair amount of autonomy. They didn’t want me to drag you in. They wanted you to join me. I think they felt like an asset who had to be controlled could break free as they saw with you the first time around, and this time they wanted operatives who weren’t giving controlled compliance, but allegiance instead.”

Bucky grunted. “A tether rather than a leash.”

“Yeah.”

“But you knew who I was tethered to.”

Steve’s head drops. “Yeah.”

“And you knew I’d be the most vulnerable and off my guard in Wakanda.”

“I did.”

Bucky lets him sit with that discomfort.

Bucky has replayed that night in his mind so many times.

“But your plan changed that night. I didn’t register it in the moment, but everything about you changed the moment you bit into her neck to claim her.”

Steve doesn’t deny it.

“Before you sunk your teeth into her, you were taunting me, dangling her like something to be smashed and discarded, you didn’t even know if it would work, and I think part of you thought it might even kill her.”

Bucky sees Steve’s jaw tick.

“You were in no way prepared for how a bond would change you fundamentally as an alpha.”

“Obviously it didn’t flip a switch immediately, but yes, it altered what I intended to do,” Steve admits.

He goes on to explain some of the things that happened in Turin – missions he went on, how things had developed with you, the clothes, and the books.

“The books were for her?” Bucky breathes. “I saw security footage of you in the bookshop.”

“I wasn’t worried about exposing myself because you were already taking longer than I wanted you to take, but when you didn’t access any of the Avenger networks, bases, or safehouses, I expected you were underground and untraceably hunting for us.”

“What else did you expect?”

“I wanted you to get foolish in your desperation and tip your hand.”

“Not with her on the line.”

“No.” Steve narrows his eyes. “You never left Turin once you showed up on our radar, did you?”

Bucky scoffs. “Course I didn’t.”

Steve nods. “A ploy to see all the defenses of the base.”

“But you left dangerously close to her heat,” Bucky shoots, the disapproving accusation blatant in his tone.

“And that’s when you made your unsuccessful move to get her back. If you’d killed everyone you’d encountered from the beginning, you probably would have made it to her in time.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“No, I know you do.” Steve sighs. “You know, back in 1945, I thought you were dead when you fell off that train.”

Bucky doesn’t interrupt. He knew Steve knew he knew this. They’d touched on it before. But clearly there was more and a reason for Steve to bring it up again now.

“The thing is, when they found you, I know Zola did what he did to you because of me, your tie to me. When they took me and Sam, they tortured him and killed him because of me, again. You were both people I cared about, and you were hurt for it. I was not going to let it happen to her. The sense of responsibility I felt for her had already been growing and evolving, but when I felt that surge of adrenaline and fear through the bond when you attacked the base and they moved her? It had been a slow melting of ice, what was developing there, but that shattered the ice. When I found out they had moved her, I kept my personal weakness guarded, and I knew I would do everything I could to get her out of their web and keep her safe.”

At this admission, Bucky is quiet. So is Steve. Bucky knows Steve is letting him think. There’s so much to consider there – the guilt Steve has still carried for him for years, the fresh hell of Sam, and the fervent determination to keep you from being another victim by association.

He could think over this for much longer, but there are more pieces he still needs context for, so next Bucky asks, “Why did you leave the Geneva facility during her heat?”

“Best cover for time – alphas are given room to take care of their needs during rut or care for omegas if they’re bonded during their omega’s heat.”

It verifies what Bucky had theorized himself.

“But it’s been eight days since you came here.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods.

“And you’ve just…been here.”

“Yeah.”

This is the piece Bucky has been suspicious of now.

“Explain.”

“When I took her to Turin, yes, it was a trap to lure you. When I brought her here, it was to wait for you to find us. I couldn’t find you when you went underground before, and I couldn’t find you this time, and if I tried too hard, I didn’t want to risk Hydra finding us, but I knew if we stayd in one place and I focused on keeping us hidden from Hydra, you could find us.”

Bucky furrows his brow, frowning.

“Simple as that?”

“Simple as that,” Steve confirms.

Bucky studies him for another quiet few seconds, then says, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, what now?”

“Her,” Bucky replies simply. “We’ve still got a lot of shit to figure out, but we’ve got to do it with her.”

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

Still with me? This was a lot. I hope I've answered some of your questions, and there are some more that have been brought up, but... we're here. We're this far.

This is the single longest story/chapter I've ever published. You can see where I've left off, and there's clearly more story, but Bucky reuniting with his omega and with Steve were the primary objectives, and both of those elements I didn't want to cheat or shorten as they began to unfold. I hope they've truly done justice to these characters and relationships, and we'll see how they can possibly move forward together in the conclusion. These three still have big things ahead.

read more from the Dark Forest Fest

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers #bucky barnes fan fiction #captain hydra #aspen wrote something #bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x reader #omegaverse #marvel omegaverse #warm shadows au #aspen's dark forest fest

[lunarbuck]

Reset - Five

Печь

Pairing: The Winter Soldier x f!Reader

WC: 5.5k

My naive принцесса must know by now that I am no angel. I am simply a bringer of death.

Warnings/Tags: restraints, violence, character death, fear

series masterlist | my masterlist | ao3 | @hydravictrix | fic playlist

AN: thank you @cwbucky for being a lovely beta reader <3 I can't wait for you all to read this chapter!! Please let me know what you think :)

chapter 4 / chapter 6

Куколка

When the Soldier takes you from your cell this morning, you can tell something is off. The entire last week, he has been acting strangely. He won’t look at you for very long, he’s tougher on you in training, and you’ve even heard him whispering to himself. Something is happening, but no one will tell you what. 

You trip over your feet in an attempt to keep up with the Soldier’s long strides. He is eager to reach his destination, it seems. He brings you to an elevator you’ve never been in before, and instead of pressing one of the buttons for the other floors, he types in a code on a keypad you hadn’t noticed before. 

The elevator lurches into motion, shooting down, sending you toppling into the Soldier’s firm torso. He catches you, righting you on your feet, not letting his fingers linger on your skin for too long. When the lift arrives at the correct floor, the Soldier leads you to a room at the end of the hall.

Alexander Pierce stands inside, though today, he is not accompanied by his usual entourage of Rumlow and Rollins. “Good, you’re on time,” he says as the Soldier ushers you into the room. The two of you stand in front of Pierce, a strange energy hums in the air that you can’t quite name. 

“What’s going on?” You ask apprehensively, glazing up at the Soldier. He stares straight ahead at Pierce, not answering you. Pierce opens up a computer, presses a few buttons, and a screen built into the wall flickers to life. 

You turn your attention to the images on the screen. There are a few photos of a building from a birds-eye view, and you can tell just by the surrounding architecture that it’s in a major city. Your stomach drops. This is the Chicago safe house, the one you gave up during the interrogation.

“Since you proved your abilities to me, I have decided to allow you to go on a mission with the Soldier. You will raid the location, gather information, and report back to me.” Pierce turns to speak directly to you. His eyes are like ice, freezing you where you stand. “From what Mr. Glover has told me, this safe house is still in use. You may see some familiar faces.” He smirks, and you want to vomit.

Pierce continues detailing the mission, but you don’t listen. All you can think about is what Steve would have done if you’d walked into a safe house beside the Winter Soldier. If he’d seen what they’d done to you, what you’d turned into.

You are still in a daze as the Soldier tugs you out of the room, Pierce’s brief must have ended, and you missed the entire thing. He drags you down the hall and to a new room that is full of tactical gear and weapons. Your head spins as you take it all in; the room is nearly identical to the one in Avengers tower. The biggest difference is instead of the classic SHIELD logo on all the uniforms, you see the skull and tentacles of Hydra’s emblem. 

“Come, we need to get you fitted,” the Soldier says, calling you over to where he stands across the room. You walk over to him on shaky legs and stand in front of a full-body mirror. It is the first time you’ve seen so much of yourself, only catching glimpses of your face in the locker room mirror. You look so different.

The Soldier gathers pieces of tactical gear and straps them onto you, switching them out if they don’t fit properly. Your SHIELD gear was custom-made, fitting you like a second skin. 

You finished lacing your boots and stood back up, brushing dust off your knees. You and a few other agents were getting ready to head out on a mission, just some recon, nothing crazy. You checked yourself over in the mirror and fiddled with the cuffs of your jacket when you noticed something near your wrist. You brought your hand up to your face to investigate and found three letters and a little star embroidered neatly into the cuff. 

SGR ✩ 

You ran your fingers over the stitches and smiled. You’re not sure when Steve would have had time to steal your gear and embroider it, but you love it. 

Once you were out on the mission, you realized you couldn’t stop feeling for the stitches. Every time you got nervous or stressed, running your thumb along his initials comforted you. You even snapped a quick photo of them and texted him. Even without the embroidery, he was always on your mind.

‘Missing you <;3’

‘I miss you more’

The Soldier stares at you, and you let your eyes take in the sight of yourself in a Hydra uniform. You look deadly despite feeling so weak. Though this gear wasn’t tailored to your body, it’s nearly a perfect fit. You don’t feel suffocated by the vest and harness, your arms can move in the sleeves, and you know you’d have plenty of mobility in your legs if you bent down. 

You want to speak, to say something to the Soldier, but you’re not sure what you would say. Begging him not to take you on the mission would accomplish nothing, he was given orders, and it doesn’t seem like he’s willing to defy them. You think about asking him why he would tell Pierce to bring you along. When he raided your safe house, he did it alone, and if he had help, you never saw them. Why change things now?

Thinking of the day of the raid makes you break out in a sweat, and chills run down your spine, teleporting you back to the moments just before.

You had just finished a call with Fury, updating him on the resistance’s numbers, plans, and whereabouts. Things were looking good, and everyone was confident that the tides would change soon. Rumlow’s executions seemed to have halted for a while, and whisperings of a new wave of Hydra agents were just that. Whisperings. 

You stepped into the main room of the safe house and sat down at the counter while a few agents jokingly argued about something trivial. It was a day like any other. You were going through the motions and couldn’t wait for Steve to stop by in a few days. 

The pleasant smile that resided on your face faded when you heard the gunshots. Your world fell apart when a man made of darkness kicked down the door. You would never be the same.

The Soldier grabs your arm in a firm grip, and you finally face him. “I don’t want to go.” You mean for your words to be full of conviction and vitriol, but instead, they come out weak and quiet. You watch as the Soldier’s features crack. For just a moment, you think you see something almost like sadness flash across his face. You blink, and it’s gone. 

“You will.” Those two words extinguish any fight you were going to put up. You know that if he says you are going, then you have no say in the matter. The Soldier steps away, you can hear him collecting weapons, but you do not turn to watch. When he returns, you see he has strapped each holster with something, but he brings nothing for you.

“We need to go,” he says, holding the chain of your handcuffs like a leash, leading you out of the room.

You sit in the back of a car, blindfolded and handcuffed. The car is nearly silent, but the road isn’t smooth. You’re jostled around with no way to catch yourself. You’re not sure how long it takes, but eventually, the car rolls to a stop, and someone lifts you from the backseat and carries you up a set of stairs. You hear the loud engine of a jet, and the wind whips at your skin. You know it is the Soldier who is carrying you; his scent is familiar and almost calming.

He straps you into a seat, and the jet takes off a moment later.

Emotion grips you. It’s all-encompassing and impossible to quell. It’s terror. It rips through your veins, makes your head spin; it radiates through your body. You wish you could see; you wish you could feel around for something. Anything that would tell you what’s going on, but the blindfold is tight around your eyes, and your handcuffs are nearly cutting off the circulation to your fingers. There is no escaping. 

You used to sleep on airplanes. After hours of cloud watching, you’d easily fall into a peaceful sleep. You wish you could do that now, but your fear prevents you from resting. You’re on high alert, flinching at every new sound.

You know the flight from New York to Chicago should take about three hours, but if this jet is anything like what SHIELD used, you’ll be there much sooner.

The flight to your impending doom ends with a soft landing, though you find yourself wishing there had been turbulence. You feel the Soldier unbuckle your seat before guiding you to the door of the jet. His fingers find the lock on your handcuffs, and he releases your wrists. Your fingers rub the ache away as the Soldier steps behind you and unties your blindfold. When he pulls it away, your eyes burn from how bright it is outside.

You step onto the pavement and breathe deeply. The air smells sweet and fresh, it fills your lungs, and you can’t get enough. You stand in the sun and tilt your head back, soaking it in. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed the sun, the wind on your face, fresh air. 

It is like the sun picks you up and spins you around. It feels like it wraps its arms around you and surrounds you in its warmth. You reach your fingers out into the rays, watching specks of dust floating in the light. It is warm; your skin thanks the universe for it. It has been so long since you have seen her. She shines so brightly today.

The Soldier places a hand on your shoulder, and for the first time, you don’t shiver at his touch. You turn and look at him; he looks so out of place in the sun. You take another gulping breath of air before nodding; you understand that he wants to get moving.

Together, the two of you walk to a car that’s parked at the end of the tarmac. The Soldier tells you to sit in the front with him, and before long, you’re on the move. 

When Hydra first made moves to take over, major cities were hit hardest. Bombings, air raids, and attacks all weakened the country’s forces, and it didn’t take long for the government to give up. People fought against Hydra on their own, creating little militias and resistances but eventually, the death toll got so high that those who remained no longer felt like it was worth it.

As the Soldier drives you through Chicago, you see remnants of the war but very few signs of life. Those who still fight Hydra do so in remote parts of the country, regaining their strength and resources. 

You lean your head against the window, feeling the cool glass against your skin. There are so many sensations that you’d missed while in the compound. Before all of this, you’d visited Chicago a few times. The streets were packed with people from all walks of life. It was beautiful.

The Soldier weaves through the streets, and you start to see SHIELD and Avengers symbols painted onto sidewalks, buildings, and signs. They direct members of the resistance to the safe house, but they were discouraged by higher-ups after some time because of how obvious it was. You’re surprised to still see them up. He follows them and a few minutes later, stops the car. 

Fear tears at your heart. You don’t know who is staying in this safe house, how active it is. You don’t want anyone to get hurt. The Soldier watches you clamber out of the car; you walk side by side to the safe house. 

This specific location has a convenience store as a front. Its display is rundown, and the windows are cracked; it’s meant to look like no one is living there. The Soldier doesn’t give the storefront a second glance. Instead, he uses his left hand to shatter the glass of the door. He unlocks it from the inside and lets the two of you in. 

Glass crunches underneath your boots as you step inside. You linger near the door, not wanting to be a part of this, while the Soldier walks the perimeter. He places devices in some spots, and you realize a moment later that they’re bombs. You glance around the room. Somewhere there should be a panic button, something to alert everyone that the safe house is under attack, but you can’t find it. 

A moment later, the Soldier is back at your side. He tugs you further into the building and through a hallway before stopping and standing in front of you. “These are not your people,” he says roughly. “They stopped being your people the second they gave up on you. After I took you, no one came looking for you. No one even tried.”

Your heart sinks, and you feel tears welling in your eyes. During your first week in the compound, you’d thought someone was going to come to save you. You thought surely SHIELD would have tried to do something, but your hopes were quickly dashed. No one knows where the compound is. They probably just assumed you were dead and moved on.

“They’re still my people,” you whisper, not giving in to whatever the Soldier is trying to do to you. You shake your head; you won’t let him win. He furrows his eyebrows, you’re upsetting him, but you don’t care. “They are my family.” That word strikes something in the Soldier, and he takes a step back.

You don’t want to continue this conversation, so you turn away from him. He huffs but doesn’t speak to you. In the silence, you hear the quiet beeping of the bombs. He’s activated them; that’s why he took you so far away. You’re not sure how long you have until they detonate. You haven’t even tried to look for anyone to warn. 

The Soldier grips your upper arm and brings you to a doorway you hadn’t seen before. He opens it, revealing a set of stairs. Even from so far up, you can hear the quiet chatter of voices. They don’t know what’s coming.

You’ve seen blueprints of this safe house, and you know that at the bottom of the stairs is a decoy room, and then the real safe house begins after that. The Soldier takes you down the stairs and into the decoy room. It looks like a storage room for a store, nothing out of the ordinary.

If you screamed right now, someone would hear you. You could warn them, you could do something, yet you don’t. You stand in the decoy room in silence. You stand beside the Soldier and watch him grab a device from his vest and press a code into it. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a secret door slide open. 

Now’s your chance. You turn toward the door, but he doesn’t even give you an opportunity to speak. Before you can warn anyone, the Soldier detonates the bombs, and smoke pours down the stairs. The Soldier presses something against your face; it’s a mask of sorts that you imagine will allow you to breathe despite the smoke. The black mask he wears as part of his uniform already sits snugly against his face. You can hear the foundation beginning to crack. Why isn’t he bringing you outside yet?

The Soldier grabs your arm again and tugs you through the secret door. The person who had opened it no longer stands in the doorway. When you enter the room, heads turn and stare in shock. Everyone inside starts their attack protocols, but they stop the second they see you.

“It’s the Winter Soldier,” a woman whispers, reaching for her weapon. The woman’s eyes fall on you, and recognition flashes; she knows who you are. Everyone in SHIELD knows. “We thought– we thought you were dead.” As the words fall from her mouth, the Soldier drops a canister to the ground. Red smoke fills the room in an instant. You watch, heart cracking, as the people inside fall unconscious. At least, you want to believe they’re just asleep, but you doubt that that’s really what has happened.

You stand unmoving in your place. You don’t stir until the Soldier forces you to. He brings you to a computer connected to a screen in the center of the room. He types something in on the keyboard, and the screen flashes to life. He presses a few keys, and a moment later, the faces of the people staying at the safe house pop up. Their names, statuses, and information beside their ID photo. You watch as they cycle through, then a few minutes later the photos shift. 

No longer do you see local agents. Now, it is images of people from your past. Your parents, friends, coworkers, everyone. Each face is stamped out with the word ‘terminated.’ It tears at your heart, rips it into a thousand pieces, too small for you to ever put back together.

You hear yourself crying; you feel the tears on your face, you feel the guilt stabbing you in the gut.

“Why,” you say, voice thick with tears. You’re frozen where you stand; you can’t move. The Soldier looks at you and grinds his teeth before grinning.

“You could never save them all.”

Soldat

She cries so beautifully. Her tear-stained face sends heat through my body, and I do my best to subdue my reaction to her. I watch as her knees buckle, and she falls to the floor, still staring at the screen, though it has stopped showing deceased members of the resistance. Now it is just black, reflecting the sight of her ruined features back at her. 

I meant what I said; she truly never could save them all. It was naive of her to think otherwise. She should have known better. I thought I had dispelled these thoughts from her. Now there is no doubt that she has lost all hope in SHIELD. I need her to know that it is just us from now on. We will take on the world, just the two of us. 

“How could you?” She asks, glaring at me from the floor. I step toward her and crouch down. My left hand grips her chin, and I tilt her head so she has no choice but to look at me.

“It was my mission,” I tell her plainly. She gasps for breath, but I do not let her go. “But now, моя принцесса, you are my mission.” For a moment, she stops crying. She stops heaving for her breaths. Мой ангел just sits there in stunned silence.

“Wh– what does that mean?” she asks in a shaky voice. The corner of my mouth twitches, but I don’t smile.

“It means that it is just you and I, мой ангел.” Despite my grip on her chin, she shakes her head. She doesn’t understand, but she will soon. I will make sure of it. 

Now that we have completed the mission, I need to get us out of the safe house and as far away as possible. We have enough supplies in the car for some time, but I know we will have to get rid of the vehicle soon. Hydra can track it, and I do not want to risk them finding us. 

I stand, but she does not follow. She is too distraught. This upsets me. She needs to move on; sitting and crying will solve nothing now. Her tears will not bring them back from the dead. I grab her arm and pull her up, but instead of standing on her own feet, she slumps against me. The feeling of her body against mine is incredible, but we don’t have much time before the foundation fully collapses, so I pick her up, hauling her over my shoulder just like I did the day I took her.

Мой ангел groans, but there is no time to worry about her comfort. She will be comfortable later. I look around for a moment before finding an emergency exit door. It is open ajar; someone had tried to escape but didn’t move fast enough. Pity. 

Once exiting the safe house, I set моя принцесса down in the passenger seat of the car. I use my communicator to take a few photos of the safe house and confirm the completion of the mission with Pierce before slamming the device to the ground. I bring my foot down on it, and it cracks. I do this a few more times. I no longer have any use for it.

I drive for a few hours, occasionally backtracking and using a strange route. After some time, I find a lot full of vehicles, so I figure now is a good time to switch out our current car. It doesn’t take me long to hotwire the new van, and once all of the gear and моя принцесса are transferred, we take off.

My goal is to make it out of the city and to a secluded enough area for us to rest and plan our next moves. I do not have much knowledge of the states, it was never beneficial, so I hope she knows more than I do.

I drive and drive until the roads turn to dirt. I find a secluded barn surrounded by fields and drive up to it. There are no vehicles or signs of life, so this should be a good place for us to rest for the night. I get out of the car and check the perimeter of the structure, leaving моя куколка to watch. She doesn’t try to follow me; she is too caught up in her own thoughts to do anything but stare out the window. 

I shiver at the thought of her being trapped in her own mind; I know the feeling all too well. As I search the barn for signs of activity, I think about how much better she deserves. She should not have to sleep in this barn tonight. She should be comfortable after everything she endured in the compound.

Once I determine that it is safe, I walk back to the car and open the passenger-side door. Мой ангел doesn’t shift her gaze to meet mine. She just stares blankly as if she can see right through me. My right hand finds her jaw, and I turn her head and force her to look at me. 

“It is safe,” I say, attempting to be gentle, though, by the blank look on her face, I am not sure if I accomplish that. She doesn’t speak, but she shifts in the seat and presses her hands against my shoulders as she stands. I support her out of the car and don’t let her feet touch the ground. I hook my arm under her knees and carry her into the barn. There is a loft above the lower level with a makeshift bed where she will sleep, but for now, we must eat. I sit her down on a crate and head back to the car to grab our supplies.

When I return, I find her in the same spot. If I didn’t know any better, I might think she is a statue. I crouch down in front of her and catch her eyes. She looks lost, the fire of the fight extinguished. “You need to eat,” I say quietly. “You need to get strong.” Мой ангел shakes her head.

“I can’t,” she whispers. Now it is my turn to disagree. 

“Do you know why I’ve taken you here?” I ask, gripping her chin in my fingers. 

She shakes her head, ‘no.’

“It is because I couldn’t live one more moment seeing them hurt you like that. Seeing Rumlow and Rollins touching you, their hands all over you, it killed me.” Her eyes go wide, pupils dilating. “You are mine, принцесса. I had to steal you away if we were ever to be together.” 

“Together?” She asks, voice barely audible against my pounding heartbeat.

“Together,” I answer. “It’s just us, мой ангел. No more Hydra, no more SHIELD. Just you and I.” I am speaking so freely to her. I am not sure the last time I was able to do so. 

Her eyes are big and glassy; she looks at me in a new way. Something must have changed for her. Maybe she will be more compliant. I watch as she mulls everything over. As much as I want her to tell me she is ready to be with me, ready to do what it takes to be together, I know she needs time. 

Apprehensively, the beautiful girl in front of me shifts, and her hands slowly reach up toward my face. They rest on either side of my jaw on the black mask that obscures most of my features. I’d forgotten I was wearing it. She slips her fingers around the edges and pulls the mask free, exposing my face to her.

“The first time I saw you,” she whispers, dropping the mask in her lap. “You were wearing that mask.” Мой ангел runs her fingers along my jaw, across the dimple in my chin. “You looked like an angel of death.” 

I resist the urge to smile at her words. My naive принцесса must know by now that I am no angel. I am simply a bringer of death.

Куколка

You know that you can’t stay in the barn for too long. There aren’t enough resources, and as the Soldier constantly reminds you, you have to keep moving. Hydra is bound to find you if you stay in one place for too long. 

After the first day, you realize that he’s serious. This isn’t just a test that Hydra put you up to, he really stole you away, and the two of you are on the run together. 

Together. 

He’d said that now it was just the two of you. No more Hydra, no more SHIELD. When those words hit your ears, you were sure you were hallucinating. All of the stories you’d heard of the Winter Soldier told of a man who cared for no one or anything. He just destroyed everything in his path. Why did he care so much about you?

You find yourself questioning your own feelings about the Soldier. Why do you care if he is injured or not? Why does your heartbeat speed up when you hear his approaching footsteps? Why does his voice float through your dreams instead of Steve’s?

“We need to find somewhere to go,” the Soldier says, ripping your focus from your thoughts. He tosses a small device onto your lap, and you pick it up gingerly, unsure of its purpose. “It is a communicator,” he continues, answering your silent question. “Communicate with someone.” He says it like it is easy, but your mind goes blank when you try to think of someone to call.

Everyone you know is dead or in hiding. You stare at the boxy device and try to calm your racing thoughts. The Soldier stands beside you, watching you in that quiet and guarded way he always does. Without thinking about it, you pat the ground beside you, inviting him to join you.

“I’m not sure who to reach out to,” you say as the Soldier sits next to you. Your heartbeat picks up in your chest as his leg brushes against yours. He doesn’t say anything to answer your question, but you feel his eyes trace your face. 

After a few long moments spent in silence, an idea pops into your mind. Madripoor. You’ve never been, but you know that SHIELD has no presence there, so you doubt Hydra does either. It’s lawless; it’s perfect. The only issue is how to get there.

One person would know, but contacting him is easier said than done and could be incredibly dangerous. The resistance had kept tabs on a man with more wealth than he knew what to do with that seemed to be helping Hydra’s rise to power. You couldn’t find anything connecting him to the Avengers or Hydra. Still, they would not have been nearly as quick in their takeover without him.

Then, when his work was done, he ‘retired.’ 

With shaking fingers, you type in a location and use the communicator’s data to send a signal to him. 

“Who?” The Soldier asks, not looking at the device. He stares right into your eyes.

“Helmut Zemo.” A frown etches across the Soldier’s face as his brow furrows. 

“Zemo is dangerous,” he replies, causing you to nearly laugh. If the Soldier thinks someone is dangerous, then they truly must be. 

“I don’t know who else. He’s the only one.” The Soldier shakes his head slightly but takes the communicator from you. He types in a location and hands it back to you; of course he would know where Zemo is living. With shaking fingers, you type in the code for a signal and hope for the best. 

The next morning, the Soldier wakes you before dawn, and you’re off. Almost immediately after sending the signal, Zemo responded. You arranged a meeting with him, and the Soldier insisted on going as soon as possible. 

Now, you sit in the front seat of the rusty truck the Soldier had stolen this morning. He drives carefully, checking the map you’d found in the backseat. It’s warm, so you have the windows open. There’s a strange comfort that blankets you. You don’t have the desire to run away or look for an escape. The man beside you doesn’t scare you the way he used to.

You shift in your seat to watch him, and even though the silence is pleasant, you can’t have silence forever. “Do you want to play a game?” You ask, expecting him to say no. The question is your olive branch, an attempt at finding some sort of peace. 

“What game?” You smile a little, you’ve never tried to have fun with the Soldier, but you suppose there’s a first time for everything.

“Categories,” you say, pulling your legs up in your seat. “We each have to name something in the category, and there can be no repeats.” It’s better with more people, but you don’t want to take the time to think of something else. He’d probably change his mind by then.

“What is the category,” he asks, glancing down at the map. Giddy excitement bubbles in your belly, and for the first time in a long time, you’re about to have fun.

Eventually, the game fizzles out, and you just speak with the Soldier. It is so normal; you talk about places you’ve been, jokes you’ve heard. By the end of the drive, your cheeks ache from smiling. The Soldier didn’t smile the entire time, but you caught glimpses of kindness throughout the conversation. 

The Soldier pulls the car around to a large estate. An enormous house on a hill sits down the road. The grass surrounding the mansion is overgrown and weedy, giving an eerie appearance to the whole scene.

When you get out of the car, your previous happy mood blows away. The Soldier stands beside you, and his presence is a comfort for what you’re about to face. His gloved hand brushes your arm, and shivers erupt in its wake.

“We should go,” you whisper, wishing you could go back into the car with the Soldier and return to the little bubble of peace you’d found.

The Soldier nods and places a possessive hand on the back of your neck. The gesture makes heat pool in your belly. You suck in a breath, and together, you and the Soldier make your way up to the house.

You stand in front of an intimidating wooden door with a lion head knocker. Still, you don’t get the chance to announce your presence because the door swings open as you reach for the knocker.

Helmut Zemo stands on the other side in all his furry-coated glory. The grin he wears on his face makes your stomach turn, but the Soldier gently squeezes your neck to remind you of his presence. It’s as if he could sense your discomfort. Butterflies flit around in your belly at the thought.

“Zemo,” you say, staring up at the man. Despite the apocalyptic state of the world, he seems to ooze wealth. His hair is clipped neatly, his clothes free of dirt or dust. You imagine the inside of his home looks pristine. Zemo doesn’t acknowledge you; instead, he looks at the Soldier. The two men size each other up, but you know that the Soldier would win no matter the fight. “Soldat,” Zemo practically purrs. Only after he is done inspecting the Soldier does Zemo look at you. “Princeza (princess),” he says dismissively. “Welcome to my home.”

Note: zemo should speak sokovian but i read that it is similar to bosnian so zemo will speak bosnian throughout this fic

Translations:

ангел = angel

куколка (f) = little doll

принцесса (f) = princess

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#jane’s writing #reset #hydra au #hydra victory au #hydra victory #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x you #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x yn #the winter soldier fanfiction #bucky barnes the winter soldier #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #James bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #marvel fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes marvel #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #fem!reader #marvel fanfiction #James buchanan barnes #Steve rogers #brock rumlow #dark fic

[sokoviansimp]

The Package

✒  Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Child!Reader (platonic)

✒  Tags & Warnings: child taken by hydra, neglect

-lmk if im missing any

✒ A/N : I’m planning for this to be a series :) I’m open to requests or suggestions for other parts

✒ Summary: The team is sent off to retrieve a dangerous package from Hydra, instead they find a child. 

✒ Word Count: 3373

Masterlist | The Package AU | Part 2

“If all goes to plan, this should be textbook stuff,” Steve explained to the team waiting to unload from the Quinjet, “we get in, get the package, and then get out. Understood?” The team consisting of Wanda, Tony, Clint, and Nat all nodded on queue.

At that point, they felt the landing gear make contact with the ground just a couple miles out from the Hydra base they planned to invade. The exit door began to lift and they all filed out of the vehicle to get into position. Wanda and Tony took to the sky for surveillance while the other 3 followed behind on 2 motorcycles.

The plan was to be as discrete as they could for as long as possible. They knew it wouldn’t be a stealth mission, but to draw the least amount of attention until they had the package was ideal. 

Wanda took out the guards at the gate before they could trigger an alarm while Tony blasted the surveillance cameras. The ground team was free to move into the base, all was going according to plan. It didn’t take long for them to draw attention to themselves once they infiltrated the entrance. The opposing team sprung into action, sending as many goons as they could to slow down the invasion long enough to escape with what they needed most from a helicopter on the roof. 

Tony saw the blades of the helicopter slowly start to spin as they warmed up and quickly blasted them off with his repulser to prevent them from leaving. Quickly making his way to the helicopter to retrieve the package, that he assumed they were trying to escape with. 

“Oh, no you don’t” he quipped toward the scientists as he took them out and snatched their briefcase. 

“Steve, I’ve got the briefcase, time to boogie,” Tony exclaimed over the comms. 

“Briefcase?” Steve repeated, confused. 

“Yea, in my hand. Let’s go,”

“The package won’t fit in a briefcase, Tony.” Steve rebutted, “Does it say HS12?” 

The briefcase was silver and had no distinct markings on it other than the hydra symbol at the top adorning the combination lock, “er- no, but they were trying to leave with it so I just-” 

“Keep looking Stark” Steve commanded. 

Going through the same doors that the scientists came through on the roof, Wanda went in to search the building for the real package they were after. The only thing she knew about it, is that it’s labeled HS12 and it’s extremely dangerous. Making her way through the dimly lit halls of the base, she saw weapon labs labeled with a W and corresponding numbers. Initially, she went into one hoping to find what she was looking for but everything in the room began with a W so she knew she was likely far off from her target. 

Coming up empty handed she decided to ask for help. The room that she went into initially was empty, so she found one that wasn’t, “Excuse me?” she said with feigned innocence, “I’m looking for something specific, can one of you help me?” 

The scientists tried to scurry away knowing exactly who they were speaking with. Wanda Maximoff was spoken about widely throughout Hydra, she was one of their greatest successes after all. With little effort; Wanda trapped the men in the room with her, locking the doors shut with her magic, “HS12, Where can I find it?” Wanda sternly queried, she hated being back in the house of hydra after being experimented on by the same people just a couple of years prior. Reminding herself that she was a misinformed volunteer helped quell the hatred she held for them in her soul. Some of these people may be of the same fate, thinking they're changing the world for the better, only to be helping the wrong team. Or even worse, some of these people may not even have a choice in the matter at all. Doing work to protect a loved one from threats of torture or even death. 

As silence stained the room, she decided to give her audience some incentive to answer. Using her magic, she lifted the scientist with the most badges displayed on his lab coat up into the air. Judging by the badges, he’s likely been there a while, meaning he should have the information she’s seeking. While in her grasp, the red wisps moved up to his throat as they squeezed into each other, cutting off his oxygen supply, “I won’t ask again”

Merely seconds later, the scientist was already squirming, “th-” he tried to gasp out, Wanda loosened her hold on his throat just enough for him to speak the answer, “third fl- floor” he squealed out; desperate for air, and scared for his life. Wanda wasted no time, abruptly dropping the scientist to the linoleum tile that sat below him as she turned to head for the staircase. 

The entrance to the third floor from the stairwell was locked, needing a keycard for entry. The door read Authorized Personnel Only in bold red letters. This didn’t do anything to stop Wanda, as she blasted her magic through the door swinging it open. Similarly to the rooms on the upper floor, each one was labeled with HS and a corresponding number. The first door to her left reads HS37, so she continues down the hall to look for 12. The first chunk of rooms are empty, it isn’t until she gets down around 15 that she realizes they aren’t weapon rooms, they’re cells. Then it clicks; HS = Human Subject.

Her heartbeat picks up as her mind starts to conjure images of what type of monster could be waiting for her behind the door. Whatever it is, whoever it is, she’s sure she can handle it, in fact, she’s slightly relieved that she’s the one to find it because she’s probably best suited out of the current team to face a dangerous creature. With only a few doors between 15 and 12, she arrives quicker than her mind can prepare, so she stands there for a couple of seconds, inhaling deeply before blasting the locked door with her magic. 

As she enters, the building starts to tremble, shockwaves radiating from the room. She’s met with quite the opposite of what she was expecting, a small child scurrying to huddle into a fetal position in the corner of the room terrified of the stranger that just entered. Most of the time, people visiting your cell were unwelcomed, but at least they were familiar. Their visits often resulted in needles being poked into your arms which made you dread the sound of the hinges on the door. 

Wanda’s features immediately softened in an attempt to calm you, “Hi there, it’s ok malyshka, I’m not going to hurt you,” she gently assured 

You nuzzled your head deeper into your legs seeking any comfort you could get as tears threaten to spill from your eyelids. 

“Steve, you didn’t tell us HS12 is a child,” Wanda said angrily over the comms to the super soldier. 

“A what?!” Natasha chimed in confused

The increase of Wanda’s voice jarred your nerves even more, and it was noticeable by the way the shake of the building picked up. 

“Wanda, what’s your location?” Steve queried

“Third floor.”

“Stay there, we’re coming. Be careful, she’s dangerous.” Steve warned

Deciding not to heed Steve’s comment, Wanda continued on with her attempt to calm you down, “Shh, it’s ok. What’s your name?”

“y-y/n” you squeaked out

“Y/N, such a pretty name. I’m Wanda,”

“Wan-da?” you tested the name on your tongue, still unsure about the woman standing before you. 

“Yes!” she exclaimed excitedly, “I’m here to help you,” she conveyed with a genuine smile. Her brows raised slightly as she spoke.

“No poke?” you whimpered, wanting to trust Wanda because she felt motherly but still reluctant.

“No, no poke.” she reached for you, “come on.”

You hesitantly took her hand as you stood on grounded feet beneath you, “where we go?”

“Home,” Wanda assured

Confused, you furrowed your brows and looked at the redhead, “I no have home”

Hearing you utter the words broke her heart, not only the fact that it may be true, but it was the way you knew it to be true that left her heart in little pieces, “That’s going to change, dorogoy.” 

“No, no leave,” you shook your head side to side as you removed your hand from hers and backed up until you made contact with the wall, “I be good, no ouchies,” you stated, worrying what they would do to you if they caught you trying to leave. 

Wanda kneeled down to your level, “no one will hurt you, ill make sure of it.”

Within a couple of seconds, the rest of the team arrived at your doorway. Seeing Steve and Clint in the doorway was enough to send your nerves into overload. Men, in general, scared you, everyone that you recalled causing you harm had always been male so you were much less likely to trust them. Their suits and weapons only helped to give you more anxiety that they were there to cause you pain, “NO! PLEASE!” you screamed as sounds of stray items hitting the floor echoed through the hallways.

“Wanda, we have to get her out of here” Steve stated in a stoic tone 

“Y/N, I need you to calm down for me, can you do that? Look at me,” she said trying her best to diffuse the situation without subduing you. 

All you wanted to do was cry out for your mama, you wanted to be held and told it will all be ok but you knew that wasn’t an option. You lost your mother and she’s never coming back, no one was coming to help ease your emotions, you’re all on your own and you only have yourself to protect you.  

At that moment, a crack bellowed through the ceiling causing a chunk to fall above your head. Without a second thought, Clint drew an arrow from his quiver and shot straight through the debris, breaking it into smaller pieces in an effort to protect you. From your point of view, you saw a man draw an arrow on you and miss just above your head, who knows what he’d do next? 

The action, in an involuntary attempt to protect yourself, caused shockwaves to erupt from your tiny form as you squealed and folded in on yourself. The building had already started crumbling, but this was the final straw that rained trauma on every support in the structure.

With the building on the verge of swallowing you all whole and Wanda’s attempts to calm you falling short, she knew she had to stop you, for your own safety. The crimson tendrils of magic flew out from her fingers to seep directly into your mind, quelling your thoughts instantly and leaving you in restful sleep. The building stopped shaking the second you were out, some damage remained but the structure was still standing. As your legs gave out underneath you, Wanda was there to catch you from the impending floor and bring you straight into her arms, holding you tightly. 

Wanda held you in her arms the entire flight. How could someone do this to such an innocent child, she thought. A part of her felt guilty for ever being a part of an organization that would go to such great lengths. You were sleeping, but the dreams swirling around in your head were far from quiet. To be truthful, being asleep was one of your favorite things, you were free to explore your own imagination in 4 dimensions instead of being confined to the cell the Hydra held you captive in. 

Natasha, knowing how hard this must be for Wanda, made her way over to sit next to the Sokovian. She placed a reassuring hand on Wanda’s thigh to show her that she’s there for her while Wanda zoned out, deep in thought. 

“She’s lucky you found her,” Natasha gently stated.

“I just, I don’t understand how someone could hurt her,” Wanda sighed, “To look into that little face and lock her in a cell,” her bottom lip quivered as tears threatened to spill over but she held them back. 

“I know, but now we can make sure no one ever hurts her again,” Nat offered. 

Wanda pulled her lips together and lifted her cheeks slightly to form a neutral expression of acknowledgment. After a beat of silence, Natasha wrapped her left arm around the redhead. Wanda melted into the Russian next to her, allowing her head to lean back onto her chest, “I’m not giving her up to Fury,” Wanda whispered. 

“I know.”

When the team lands, they immediately bring you to the medbay and Tony gets to work on an inhibitor for your powers. They gather a little blood so they can run tests and the only reason Wanda even lets them is that you're asleep and won’t be bothered. Once they've released you from the medical unit, Wanda takes you to her room to get cleaned up. 

“Don’t get too attached, Maximoff. We have to give her to Fury,” Steve called out as Wanda ignored him and made her way up the stairs with you. 

She gently lays you on the bed as she leaves to start running the bath water. As the water fills, she returns to your side and begins to shake you gently. The redhead was nervous to wake you before Tony finished the inhibitor, but she was confident that she could soothe you enough for a bath, “Y/N” she hummed to your laying figure on the bed, as you began to stir awake, “wake up, malyshka, it’s tubby time” 

The words rang into your ears, and in your waking stupor, you imagined you were back in your home with your mother. You stretched your arms above your head before opening your eyes to the sight of a smiling redhead looming above you. The same one from your cell, she told you her name, what was it? Oh right!

“Wana” you blurted

“Yes! Wanda,” the sokovian punctuated the d in her name that you had missed, “Come little one, let’s get you all cleaned up,” she said taking you in her arms and bringing you both into the bathroom. 

To her surprise, you had no negative reaction to waking up in a completely different environment. You felt safe with Wanda, and the room you were in was so much nicer than the cell you had been confined to that you didn’t see a reason to be scared. 

“Where are we?” you questioned, knowing you were no longer at the Hydra base, or at least nowhere that you had ever seen. 

“We are at the Avengers Compound,” Wanda explained, “This is my bedroom,” she continued as she took your clothes off, plopping them in the laundry bin and getting you settled into the tub. 

“A-bengers?” 

“Yes, have you heard of them before, Y/N?” Wanda wondered how much you knew

“No, neber”

“Well, the Avengers are superheroes, they save people.”

You let the words sink in as Wanda lathered soap into a cloth, “Abengers saved me?” you tried putting the pieces together. 

“We did,” Wanda began, rubbing the soft soap-filled cloth along your shoulders, “and no one will ever hurt you again.” Your gaze traveled upward to meet hers as a small smile crept onto your face. 

The feeling of being in a bath again made you so happy. The last time you had a bath, you were with your mother. Just being in the tub again brought back feelings of comfort. Wanda took her time to be gentle with you as she knew it was going to be a long bath. You had so much grime build-up in your hair from being neglected in a cell that she wasn’t sure if it would be best to just cut it off. Even though you needed extreme cleaning, she didn’t want to overwhelm you on your first day either. As long as she could get you clean enough to feel comfortable she would accept it for the time being. 

You continue to learn more about the avengers throughout your bath as you asked Wanda lots of questions. Your personality was finally getting to show itself, after almost a year of being buried.

“Friday, can you ask Nat to bring Y/Ns clothes upstairs?” Wanda called out to the AI intercom, “Sure thing, Ms. Maximoff!” it quickly notated.

Your eyes widened and your face lifted at the robot's voice, “Who’s dat?” you pointed in the air to try and pinpoint the direction of the voice

“That is Friday, she’s like uh- a robot assistant”

It doesn’t take long for Natasha to arrive with your clothes, “How’d it go?” she asks peering into the bathroom before walking in. 

“It went great! Y/N did so well!” she says beaming you with the brightest smile. The two girls get you dressed and bring you back into the bedroom. 

“She's a weapon and she needs to be handed over to the right people.” the three of you overheard Steve’s take on your custody as you entered the common room in Wanda’s arms. The redhead felt your body tense up as soon as the other Avengers came into view, “it’s ok malyshka, no one will hurt you here” she whispered toward you in an attempt to calm the anxiety that she knew was brewing within you. You nuzzled into her neck in response, feeling safe in her hold. 

“She’s not a weapon, she’s a child,” Natasha cut into Steve’s conversation with Tony, better her than Wanda for Steve’s sake, “have some compassion, Rogers”

“-with unchecked powers that could destroy this planet” Steve added, 

“So we keep them in check,” Nat stated without hesitation. 

“You’re not seriously considering keeping her here?” Steve shifted his weight to turn his attention to Natasha. 

“Why not? It’s the perfect place for her to learn how to control her powers.” A wave of relief washed over Wanda to see that she wasn’t the only one wanting to keep you around. 

“Because we aren’t running a daycare” Steve doesn’t let up, “She needs to be handed over to Fury.”

“Yea, well Wanda and I both know what it’s like to be experimented on at a young age, it’s not something you just get over. We have a real chance to give her a better life, teach her how to control her gifts, and make sure no one ever hurts her again.” 

“She’s staying here, and if Fury has an issue with that, he can come find me.” Wanda snarls as she walks through the common room with you toward the theatre.

Wanda sat you down in one of the La-Z-Boy chairs in the front row as she set up the movie, “any requests, malyshka?” wanda offered as she scrolled through some options on the screen

Your face lit up at the sight of the golden dog, “Doggy!” you exclaim with an outstretched arm towards the screen.

Your reaction causes a chuckle from Wanda, “Dug Days it is.” She smiled as she started the first episode.

The show had you on the edge of your seat, excited about what shenanigans the dog would be up to. It felt so good for you to finally be able to act like a kid again. You couldn’t help the thoughts swirling in the back of your brain of going back to the bad place. Before Wanda had a chance to start the next episode, you blurted out, ”Dey want me to leave?”

“What?”

“Da man, is he gonna make me leave?” you meet her gaze with doe wide eyes.

“No sweetie, this is your home now.” she gently assured you as she rubbed your back.

“Really? Home?” you tested the word once more now that it had real meaning to you. 

“Yes, come here” Wanda lifted the armrest that separated the two of you and wrapped her left arm around your shoulder allowing you to snuggle into her side as she clicked play on the next episode.

#wanda maximoff #wanda marvel #wanda fanfic #wanda mcu #wanda maximoff fanfiction #mommy wanda #mama wanda #daughter reader #little reader #wanda maximoff x little!reader #wanda maximoff x daughter!reader #hydra #rescue #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #Wanda Maximoff x child!reader #sokoviansimp fics #The package au

[rarepears]

Somehow the Winter Soldier has decided that this random Korea civilian is his primary handler.

Hydra is not pleased that this round of brainwashing failed so badly. They send out agents to kidnap this Korean man to deal with this matter swiftly. Thankfully it's going to be a simple issue to correct - this Sung Jinwoo doesn't have any close relationships with other humans.

#winter soldier #bucky barnes #solo leveling #solo leveling ideas #sung jinwoo #hydra #winter soldier things sung jinwoo is his primary handler AU