Basement Wives Collective

My submission for the @basementwiveswritingchallengeVampire!Bucky Barnes is keeping his little bird from flying away, high up in her cage. Here’s a sneak peek, the full story will be out tomorrow.

This will be 18+ for dark themes, dystopian future, blood, and sex. Please read responsibly.

I picked the prompt line: “Trust me, it could be worse, darling.”

“If you’re not committing sin, you’re not having fun.”

He said that to you all the time, your captor. He said his name was James, that he had been a sergeant in the Great War, but you secretly called him Black Hat. Always in a long black duster and the broad-brimmed hat that concealed his face in shadow. The only thing that was ever clear were his eyes, ocean blue. You’d seen the ocean once when your parents tried to bargain their way onto one of the last ships leaving the New York Harbor. You never forgot the color as the sun hit it- weak rays fighting through the billowing black clouds. The ship sailed without you, your mother holding you, screaming at your father to come back as he stood on the deck before he turned away in shame.

It was not fast enough. One of the massive fireballs tearing through the city hit the ship dead on, and it exploded with a searing blue-white flash that temporarily blinded you, rubbing your eyes desperately as you felt your mother’s hand torn from yours.

“Mama!” You spun, being knocked one way and then spun the other through the choking clouds of pitch, screaming as you heard her wail your name. “MAMA!” A hand pushed against your forehead and dazed, you watched the ground racing up to meet you.

You’ve lived in The Birdcage for a long time.

James will not tell you how long, but you can tell by the longer dresses he brings you when yours become indecently short. You can tell because even though your captor is terrifyingly tall - and hovers over you like a vulture waiting for his meal - your head reaches his chin now, instead of his chest. You can tell because the boiling black clouds that churn and writhe in the sky have become thinner. Sometimes, light spears the darkness and you see… things.

Summary: After the death of your family, you put your trust in the kind DA who takes on your case but you soon discover he is not the good man you think he is. When you wake up as a prisoner in his basement you’re horrified to realize your nightmare is just beginning. [Kidnapping, noncon, breeding, violence, reference to home invasion and murder of reader’s family by a third party (non graphic), gaslighting, psychological distress, victim shaming, murder, and explicit sex, 18+] 

Pairing: Dark!Andy Barber x Reader,  Dark!Jake Jensen x Reader and Soft Dark!Curtis Everett x Reader

Author’s Note: This might be the darkest thing I have written. This short five part series was created for the @basementwiveswritingchallenge. Thank you @rainbowkisses31​ for creating the STUNNING graphic. 

I don’t normally do tag lists but for this limited series I am. 

ASK, COMMENT, MESSAGE, OR REBLOG TO BE TAGGED.

You met Andy Barber on the worst day of your life.

His was the first friendly face you saw that wasn’t a nurse or doctor after you woke alone and scared in the hospital bed. You remember his smile most of all, the gentle way he regarded you as he sat in the chair beside your bed. There was something earnest in his blue eyes when he took your hand in his and promised justice for you and your family. He sounded so calm and sure, it was impossible not to believe him. 

You couldn’t speak then, throat nearly raw, and each breath you took was agony for the skin and muscle that had been sliced cleanly apart. It was all you could do to blink in response, vision blurring with grief and pain. You didn’t have to ask the nurse about your family when you woke up from surgery. You knew your parents and sister were dead when you came over for your weekly family dinner that night. There was so much blood, and the man who killed them nearly got you too. It was a neighbor that found you later on the sidewalk, half dead and bleeding out. It was a miracle you’d survived. You died twice on the operating table. 

That’s what Andy told the jury, voice steady and sure as he led them through the evidence. His hand was gentle when he pushed your hair aside to show them the angry, healing scar that ran halfway across your neck and down to your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut, unable to see the horror on their faces when the wound was revealed. You could hardly stand to look at it yourself in the mirror. 

“You’re doing so good, honey,” Andy had encouraged. 

You remember how warm his fingers were and the comforting way he squeezed your other shoulder when you trembled. You felt safe with him. You didn’t know then that there was a monster hiding underneath that handsome face and kind smile.