The October morning sun hasn’t yet set, the plains are shrouded by clouds and mist, and the grass soaked with dew has not dried yet in the dying light, but none of that deters you.
So you ignore the chilly breeze and damp ground, and hop over an ant covered log as you make your way towards a less wild part of the server.
You have a job to do, just like those worker ants. Sam told you to gather quartz to build the bank, and you know most areas of the nether have been picked clean, so you travel extra far in hopes that maybe some portal has untouched resources on its other side.
You will get more quartz than Boomer. You have to. Not only because your fists are itching to punch that dumb smug expression off of his face, because although that would be enough motivation itself, you have something to prove to him besides superiority in a fight. You have something to prove to Sam as well, and you have something to prove to the entire server.
You are trustworthy.
Nobody outright tells you to prove it, but you can tell just from the wary glares you earn walking down prime paths that the others don’t trust you. Fundy hurries Yogurt along while anxiously looking over his shoulder when you walk past. Niki avoids your gaze whenever you both happen to cross paths at the community house. And Puffy outright glares at you when you go near her, or at least she does. You haven’t seen her in a while.
Sam tells you Boomer is your boss, because you have not earned the position of bank manager yet. Boomer is much newer to the server, and you had been promised that position way back before the bank was even built, but you grit your teeth and sigh because having a lower ranking job is better than having no job.
As you make your way out of the plains biome and towards the looming dark forest, you notice a funny feeling in your chest. You pause a couple of yards away, your throat tightening as the unpleasant feeling of being watched sinks into you. The sun is now just starting to sink down under the earth, allowing hostile mobs to now roam the surface without being burnt by the sun.
You fancy yourself a pretty good fighter, years and years of sparring in hypixel backs you up, but even so you retrieve your sword out of your inventory just in case.
But the walk into and through the dark forest is calm, surprisingly enough. You don’t spot any hostile mobs. This brings little comfort however, as the feeling of being watched slowly grows in intensity, until you can no longer tuck it into the back of your mind, and you stop, your heart pounding as if you ran a race.
The crickeds are chirping as you make your way through the dark oak trees, fluttering over the less navigable parts of the woods, until at last you see the clearing where, if you aren’t mistaken, a nether portal should be.
You don’t see said nether portal, which is concerning because Sam specifically told you there would be one around these coordinates, and unless he or your compass are wrong, you should be there.
Your eyes scan the forest underbrush, stopping at a patch of begonia’s. Flowers always calm you down, so you bend down to pick a few, putting your sword back into your inventory.
Your fingers touch something cold and smooth as you gather the stems in your hands, and you part the bush to reveal a locket. You tuck the begonia blooms into your inventory, curiosity demanding that you inspect the locket further.
It’s made out of copper, and it’s heart-shaped. The part of the locket where there should be a picture of someone’s beloved is missing though, it’s completely empty. You stand there hesitantly for a few seconds, deciding whether or not to keep it.
On the one hand, you’d hate to take someone’s lovely little token of affection. On the other hand, it isn’t like you’ve swiped this out of someone’s chest. If this locket was all the way out here, lying in the dirt, then whoever owned obviously didn’t care to keep track of it.
The locket doesn’t look too old, you think to yourself as you wipe the majority of soil off of it. There isn’t a name engraved into it, so there really isn’t any way for you to know who this is. With a jolt you realize you’ve spaced off.
I have a job to do. You scold yourself, So you pocket it, and carry on without another thought. You have somewhat of an idea of who you’d like to give the locket to, perhaps after cleaning it up a bit more, but the mere thought makes your cheeks go red and your body go warm. Maybe one day… When you’re bold enough to go up to her. When you’re good enough to go up to her. Tina is a good person because nobody on the server hates her. You are the opposite.
The Nether portal must be further away then Sam told you, because there was no explanation for why you couldn’t hear the obnoxiously loud whirring of the nether portal. Come to think of it, you can’t really hear anything. That’s strange, you think to yourself, stopping again. You know from experience that a forest isn’t supposed to be silent, at least not this silent. There should always be birds chirping, squirrels scurrying up trees, and deer pushing through the undergrowth. You normally block out all of the extra noise, but now you can’t hear anything when actively listening for it. Even the slight breeze has stopped, even though it’s definitely chillier now than it was a few minutes ago.
It’s as if the whole world is on pause, waiting for you someone- or something to make the next move. You swallow, determined to be the first.
“Hello?” Your voice rings out, unnaturally loud compared to the deafening silence it’s met with. You’re getting nervous now, and you reflexively reach into your inventory, grabbing your sword with a slightly shaky hand. Your hands used to always be steady, but that was before the egg. You shiver. It’s getting much colder now, even though the breeze has stopped. You look up at the sky, and immediately take a step back because it’s darkened. The sun shouldn’t have set this early. But that’s the least of your concerns
This isn’t normal.
The sky was dark as if a storm was rolling overhead, yet you could sense no incoming rain. The panic steadily building up in you peaked and you jolted backwards, rapid shallow breasts tearing at your throat.
Why did it look like night already, when the sun had just begun to set. Why was it so unnaturally cold here, despite being a temperate biome?
What is that creaking noise?
And then you start to feel the locket moving in your inventory- The thing is vibrating, and it only increases in intensity once you take it out. You feel sick to your stomach. Unsure if this was a bad dream, a hallucination, or the egg.
It can’t be the egg though, it’s been months. Months since Sam destroyed the damn thing, and for all the bizarre stuff it did, it never caused the sky to go dark. You are straight up panicking now, eyes scanning for any sign of danger, when you feel the sudden urge to turn around, because someone might be behind you.
You wish you never did, because it’s then that you hear a high pitched voice exclaim; “Sam Bucket!”
You suppress the urge to scream, immediately flying into fight mode. The locket in your hand is burning now, and you're forced to drop it. And then… There isn’t anything there.
You stare for a minute, stunned, and then you stare down at the locket dropped at your feet. And then you look back up. Whatever that thing is- it’s gone now. And you stand there in stunned silence, before darkness surrounds you like a thick veil.
Hannah!? Hannah! You hear a faint voice growing in volume, and you snap open your eyes, wincing as bright light fills them.
And then at last, fury overtakes you. Sam. It had to be Sam. Or Boomer? Maybe both of them together? They were pranking you, that was the only logical explanation. Either way, you don’t feel like gathering quartz right now.
How dare they do that. You feel so fucking stupid for falling for it too. Of course Boomer would think it’s funny to conduct an elaborate prank on you… And get Sam in on it. And then you hear a loud voice call out your name. Sam.
Sam is nearly running towards you with Boomer close behind, and the sight of her is the only thing that calms you down enough to not start immediately beating the shit out of the other two.
“Hannah? Where were you? It's been all day!” Sam asks you, genuine concern and confusion in his face. Boomer is beside him. “Hannah, I know you wanted to get a bunch of quartz, but you were out a whole day, and we were going to start a search party to look for you.” He added
“Why didn’t you answer your communicator?” Boomer asked.
Sam and Boomer are staring at you dumbfounded, and your rage regrows in an instant.
“That wasn’t a very funny prank, guys. You snarl, glaring at the two men. Boomer shrinks back but Sam only looks more confused.
“What are you talking about?” Boomer asks.
“You- the guy! Something or someone followed me around in the woods making the sky go dark and everything go quiet! I bet you found it really funny when I got scared, huh? Sam, why don’t you fire him!” You yell.
Sam, Tina and Boomer all look at you with even more concern on your faces. Boomer looks straight up confused. “What the hell are you talking about? I was working with Sam to terraform the foundation of the bank all day, Sam told me you were supposed to get the quartz.” He says.
“Thank Ender Callahan told me he saw what direction you left yesterday.” Tina frets.
You freeze. Were they fucking with you? So many questions run through your head, but all you can manage to ask is “How long have I gone?” Because you know you left before sunrise, and it should be at the latest, afternoon now, and the other three are acting like you’ve been gone the whole night.
Tina answers this time, her voice full of concern and sympathy, and that makes you realize whatever happened here, it wasn’t a prank because Tina would never do something like this to you.
Your head pounds. What was that thing if not Sam or Boomer. Why did it say Sam Bucket? Why did you feel like the encounter lasted only a few minutes, even though you were apparently gone for a whole day?
Tina lets you hug her tightly, her voice small. “You were gone the whole day… We couldn’t find you at all since sunset yesterday” She murmurs into your chest. You can’t help but smile fondly, because Tina missed you.
You’re about to reach into your inventory to show Tina the locket, but then you realize it’s gone. You dropped it when that thing came after you. And then a wave of exhaustion hits you, and you cling to her, your eyelids heavy and your head pounding. You stagger into Tina’s grasp, your legs shaking.
Was it the locket? That thing had to be cursed, it couldn’t be a coincidence that right after you found it things went to shit. Yeah, someone cursed their little locket, or maybe someone else did. That would explain why it
“Come on, let’s get you home.” Sam says, worry in his voice. You shudder, remembering him using that exact tone when you took you home from the egg. It always circled back to the egg.
You turn around to stare at the forest one last time before Tina nudges you forward. And even in your sleep deprived, exhausted brain, you feel a sense of dread, as if this can’t be the end of it. It’s a good thing your brain is too muddled from the lack of sleep, and the others are too distracted to notice that from the treeline, all four of you are being watched.
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This is dark!Bucky Barnes with dark!Steve Rogers as well and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your situation becomes even clearer
Note: I’ve been working my ass off but I managed to eke this out after sleeping off the pain.
I appreciate y’all reading and your reactions have been the highlight of writing!
Thank you. Love you guys!
As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3
A tray of food sat untouched just inside the door. Its predecessor had been retracted with a sigh from the other side and replaced with a fresh meal. You had refused either, only drinking the water as you kept mostly to the bed.
When you moved, it reminded you of what Bucky had done to you. The tender cuts throbbed and you hissed through your teeth as you hugged your only pillow in an effort to get warm. You’d even torn the fitted sheet from the mattress and wrapped yourself in it.
You cleaned your cuts carefully every now and then and replaced the bandages. Mostly, you stared at the wall or that little lens above the door. He was watching you. Always. The thought made you shudder and kept you awake when your body tried to coax you to sleep. Those minutes that you did manage to rest were sparse and disjointed.
When at last the door did open again, you didn’t flinch. You stayed as you were, sat on the bed against the wall with the sheet draped over you. You kept your head down as the tray was carefully pushed by the door and lifted by your visitor. Footsteps neared you and he cleared his throat. You finally looked up, startled by Steve’s gentle blue eyes.
He held the tray in one arm and a quilt folded over the other.
“You should eat,” he placed the food before you. His eyes lingered on the bandages and he gave a sad smile. He turned and placed the blanket on the foot of bed. “If you do, I’ll take you for a shower.”
You scowled and crossed your arms over your knees. You looked away. You shook your head as tears picked at your eyes. You sniffed.
“Of course you’re in on it,” you croaked. “Of course… I’m so stupid.”
He exhaled and the mattress dipped as he sat. “Will you eat for me?”
“Don’t… don’t talk to me like that. We’re not friends.” You hissed as you kept your eyes averted. “We never were. I was just your victim. Your plaything. So,” you gritted your teeth. “What you do want from me, huh? Don’t worry, Bucky’s already softened me up for you.”
“Shhhh,” he reached over and touched your knee, his touch warm through the thin sheet. “I’m not a monster.”
“No, just the monster’s assistant.”
“I brought you a blanket and you have food. It’ll only get worse if you’re stubborn.” He warned.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You snapped and finally looked at him again. “How can you-- Did you help kill those girls? You must’ve done something. Helped him set me up. Maybe it was you on the phone--”
“I did what Bucky needed me to do.” He said evenly. “You don’t understand, sweetie--”
“Don’t.” You bit out. “Don’t call me that.”
He pressed his lips together before he continued and his eyebrow twitched slightly. “Bucky’s sick and those girls are just another symptom. What was done to him, it changed him and I’ve watched him fight to control it and he only finds that control with you.”
“No, no, that’s bullshit.”
“If you’re so worried about those other girls, if you feel bad about them at all, you will help Bucky.”
“Help him?” You scoffed. “You’re both insane.”
“If you help him,” he carried on, “He won’t hurt anyone else.”
“Just me?”
“No, no, that’s not-- I didn’t know he was going to use knives.”
“It didn’t matter, did it? He still did it.”
Steve chewed his lip. You shoved his hand away from your leg and sidled away from him. He huffed and stood. He moved the tray across the bed. His hands went to his hips as he watched you.
“You can eat when you get back but you should shower.” He said. “Keep yourself clean, maybe get warmed up.”
You shrugged and rubbed your cheek. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Look, I’m trying to help you,” he neared and bent to catch your eye, “It will be good to stretch your legs.”
“Just leave me alone. Let me die down here. We both know that’s how this ends.” You snarled.
He twined his fingers together and cracked his knuckles. “I can and will make you but I didn’t come here to hurt you so I’ll give you one more chance.”
You blinked at him and tilted your head. His fingers bent slightly and you knew he meant it. Your thighs rubbed together and reminded you of your cuts. You couldn’t handle much more pain. You looked away and made your way off the bed, keeping the sheet around you snugly.
“Can I have some clothes, too?” You asked.
“I tried but… right now, that’s not going to happen.” He took your arm gently and led you to the door. Your legs were stiff and slow but he was patient as he opened the door. “But I’ll ask again, okay?”
You were silent as he took you into the hall. He turned you and guided you away from your cell.
“You know, a blanket and clothes… it doesn’t make you any better than him.” You said.
He stopped in front of a sliding metal door and hooked his fingers in the handle. He pulled it open, inside was a shower in the closet-like space and nothing else. Just a showerhead and cold tiles. A neat line of bottles sat atop a single shelf.
“But it might make me preferable to him,” he leaned in. “I can be a lot nicer.”
You searched his face and his eyes slipped to the top of the sheet. He reached over and tugged on a wrinkle of fabric.
“You’ll have to leave this with me. I’ll get you a towel.”
You shivered as he pulled harder and you let go of the sheet. You couldn’t look at him as you were left entirely naked. His fingers tickled your hips and he nudged you into the shower.
“Take your time,” he cooed.
He pulled the door shut with an echoing clang. The latch twisted into place to secure the door and a little flicked on. You stared at the showerhead but could not figure how to turn it on. It suddenly shook and burst to life; you realised it was controlled from outside.
Steam rose around you and enveloped you in the tight space. Despite your circumstance, the water was soothing. You reached for the strawberry scented soap and scrubbed yourself, peeling away the bandages as they began to wilt. You felt as if you couldn’t get clean but you tried desperately.
You paused as you heard voices. You stepped closer to the door as they were muffled by the metal and the steady buzz of the shower.
“Come on, Buck. We had a deal. I didn’t do all this for nothing.” Steve said.
“She’s mine,” Bucky growled. “I told you.”
“You know I won’t be too rough. Not like you.”
“Why? You didn’t even want to do this in the first place?”
There was a silence, then a soft chuckle. “She’s sweet and my cock’s been hurting for days.”
“She’s not some toy.”
“Isn’t she?”
There was a sigh and a tisk.
“Jesus Christ, Bucky. I helped you clean up all those messes and I get what? You haven’t even said thank you. Not once.”
Another silence as you held your breath. It disgusted you to think they were bartering over you like an object.
“No cutting.” Bucky said tersely.
“Not into that,” Steve retorted.
“And don’t even go near her ass.”
“Aww…” Steve bemoaned.
“No kissing on the lips. You get one hour.”
“Can I dress her up?” Steve asked, his voice laced with sinister glee.
“Fine, but take the clothes with you after.”
“See, Buck, isn’t that what friends do? Share?”
You shoved yourself away from the door. You were breathless and weak. This couldn’t be real. None of it. It was so fucked up. It had to be a nightmare.
The showerhead died and the lock clicked. The door opened suddenly and the steam cleared. Bucky unfolded a towel and held it out. You quivered but made yourself step out. He wrapped your wordlessly in the fluffy towel and looked to Steve.
“Take her back to her room then.” He said sternly.
You snarled as Steve neared and for a moment you were sandwiched between the two men. As you turned, you looked at Bucky in the face, a wrinkle set deep in his forehead as he watched you.
“You’re a fucking monster,” you spat, “I fucking hate you.”
His jaw ticked and his nostrils flared. He stared at you then slowly looked behind you at Steve and nodded.
“Two hours.” He smirked, “And don’t be afraid to leave some marks.”
Steve ushered you away from Bucky. You dragged your feet as you let him and he stopped you before the same door with the slot. He reached out and touched your bare shoulder.
“I’ll be back soon, sweetie,” he purred and you curled your lip, “Bucky said I can bring you some clothes.”
“Oh, I know exactly what Bucky said,” you huffed.
His brows shot up and he snickered. “Ah, well then, you’ll be ready when I return, won’t you?” He opened the door and held it open. “Don’t forget to eat. You’ll need your energy.”
You frowned as he waved you inside and you turned to watch him as you entered. He smirked and gave a wink before he closed the door. You trembled as the cold crept up your legs and rolled down your spine.
You looked up at the camera. You knew Bucky would watch. He had never stopped watching you.
👁️
The deep, unyielding pain in your stomach made you eat. It might have been dread more than hunger but your head wasn’t so hazy as before. You set aside the tray in the corner and hugged the damp towel around you. You weren’t eager for Steve’s return but you were waiting for him because you knew it was inevitable.
You sat on the edge of the bed and rocked. They couldn’t just leave you like this all the time. With nothing but time and white walls as you braced for their next appearance. You would go mad. You felt it already.
When the door jerked, you did too, but you didn’t look over as Steve entered. You could smell his cologne and the fruity scent of the soap lingering on your skin. He inhaled deeply as the door closed behind him and he walked decisively to the end of the bed. In the corner of your eye, you saw him set something there.
“You smell nice,” he said. “I brought you something to wear.”
“Okay,” you grumbled and didn’t move.
He stood in silence. Waiting. “Well…”
“I know why you’re here so what’s the point?” You hissed.
“Why I’m here is exactly the point. Get dressed, sweetie.”
“Stop calling me that!” You turned to face him. “Stop. Just do what you’re going to do and go.”
“Not until you get dressed,” he said in a low voice as he came closer and bent before you. He stared into your eyes and swallowed. “I don’t want this to be difficult and I know you don’t either but it really doesn’t matter to me either way.”
You squirmed and looked back at him. You clung to the towel with one hand and pushed yourself up with the other. He slowly backed away as you stood and you rounded the end of the bed. You scooped up the clothes and headed for the washroom. You could feel him smiling at you.
You closed the door and put the clothes on the tank of the toilet. You dropped the towel and lifted the first piece. A sheer white blouse with a round high counter. You eyed it and bent to sort through the fabric. Satin panties, matching bra, garter belt, stockings, heels… the blouse and the skirt had a vintage feel to them. The attire was straight out of the pin-up era.
You dressed reluctantly. The panties were too small and kept riding up, the bra was uncomfortable and the underwire painful. The blouse was easy enough to see through and the heels made you clumsy.
You took a breath before you reached for the door. You stepped through and kept your chin down. Steve gave a hum.
“You look lovely,” he purred.
You ignored him and folded your hands. You kept as far from him as you could in the small room.
“Well…” he began, “Come here. I want you to undress me.”
You gulped and edge around the bed to where he stood. You hesitated and he grabbed your chin. He forced your head up and smirked down at you.
“The longer you drag this out, the less restraint I’ll have.”
You said nothing and ran your fingers along the hem of his shirt. He leaned down and helped you lift it up his arms and over his head. His broad chest was bared and his muscled stomach flexed as he stood straight. He shifted and forced his shoes off with his toes. Your hands fell to his belt and he groaned. You paused before you fumbled with the buckle.
“I really wanted to fuck you in the kitchen but Bucky doesn’t trust you upstairs,” Steve ran his hands down your arms. “But if you’re good, I might be able to convince him.”
You were quiet. You couldn’t think of words. You could barely keep from collapsing entirely. As you unzipped Steve’s pants you thought of Bucky stripping at the end of the bed, of the way he admired his knives before he chose one, at your blood dripping down his chin. You yanked Steve’s jeans down and stepped back.
“You’re not done, sweetie.” He taunted.
“Why?” You rasped. “Why are you doing this? You’re supposed to be good. You’re a hero.”
“I earned this.” He grabbed your hands and placed them on the top of his briefs. “I’ve saved enough lives to claim one.”
You shook and grasped the elastic. You didn’t look as you pulled it away from his waist and angled it over his obvious bulge. You let them drop down to his feet and rescinded your hands with a whimper.
“I can’t--”
He kicked away his brief and peeled off his socks. He came closer and you retreated until your legs hit the bed.
“Shhh, let me lead you,” he touched your chin and leaned in. He stopped himself and took a deep breath. “God, look at you.”
He cupped your tits through the blouse and squeezed. “It used to be that men were expected to keep women. Pretty little housewives; obedient, docile.”
You grabbed his wrists and your lip quivered. “Steve, you don’t have too--”
“Do you know what husbands would do to rebellious wives?” He asked. “Do you?”
You shook your head and clung to him, afraid you would fall back onto the bed.
“Let me show you, sweetie,” he ran his hands down your sides, “I’ll show you how to be a good little wife.” His hands stretched over your hips, “Turn around.” He spun you, “Hands on the bed.”
You bent without thinking. Even after all that had happened, you were still terrified. What worse could he do to you then had already been done?
His hands went to your ass and he kneaded through the skirt. He rubbed along your thighs and pushed his crotch against you as he reached to the hem. He raised it as he rocked against you and slipped it over the curve of your ass. His fingers danced on the satin and tickled the top of your thighs.
He pressed his hand across your ass. “Every woman needs her lessons.”
He pulled his hand back and struck you. Hard. Your legs shook and the pain reverberated through your body. You let out a whimper and he did it again, the slap echoed off the walls. You dug your fingertips into the top of the mattress. A third time. Again, again, again. You lost count as fire singed your nerves.
He didn’t stop until your legs slid out from beneath you and you clung to the bed weakly. He tutted and lifted your hips back until you set your feet again. He gripped the top of the skirt and tore. The fabric fell away from your body and the blouse slackened around your middle.
He felt along the panties and rubbed between your legs. He prodded at your cunt through the satin and you felt the slickness spread along the inside. You were ashamed as he pulled the crotch aside and dragged his finger through your arousal.
“Women need discipline. They crave it.” He flicked your clit and you moaned. “See?”
“Please--”
“Please?” He mimicked. “What do you want? You want me inside you?”
You shook your head and tried to stand. He pulled his hand from your cunt and caught the back of your neck and forced you back down. He pushed you until you were on your stomach, your legs hanging over the side of the bed. He bent over you and his hot breath grazed your cheek.
“Turn over, sweetie,” he ordered, “I’ll show you how to serve a man.”
You quaked but couldn’t move. He turned you over roughly and you bounced on the bed. He climbed over you swiftly and held your head between his hands. He pinned down your shoulder with his legs, his knees above them, as his cock bobbed over your face. You writhed beneath him and he easily kept you in place.
He lifted your head as he angled his cock against your lips. You closed your mouth and he pushed harder.
“Be a good wife,” he grunted, “Come on, open up.”
You opened your mouth and he slid inside. You were dizzy and out of breath with his weight across your shoulders and chest. He dipped deeper and poked at your throat. He forced himself as far as he could you and you gagged as he leaned forward. He planted a hand on the mattress as he pulled his hips back and thrust. You choked again and he groaned.
“You can do it, sweetie,” he moved slowly, “Just like that.”
Your spit gathered along your lip as he fucked your face. You struggled to breath around him but your struggle only seemed to encourage him. He moved his pelvis fast and harder until the bed was bouncing violently beneath your bodies.
You slapped at his legs as he ignored your gasps and gags. You kicked out, your feet sliding over the floor as you tried to wriggle free. He sank into you entirely and snarled. He took a breath as he held himself there.
“Should I come down your throat? Already?” He growled. “I could…”
You murmured around his cock and he chuckled. He pulled out slowly and pushed himself off of you. He bounced beside you as he hung his legs over the edge of the bed and winced.
“Fuck, it hurts so bad.” He pet your thigh as he caught his breath. “I’ve been saving it for you.”
You took frantic breath and he pinched your leg. He stood and hummed. He turned and stroked himself as he faced you.
“Turn over again.” He bid.
Your heart pounded in your temples as you dizzily rolled over. You were too senseless to resist. If you did as he said, it might be over soon. He grabbed your hips and drew you onto your feet as he lifted your ass. You kept your hands on the bed as you struggled to keep yourself up.
He bent his knees as he poked around with his cock and dragged his tip along the satin. He hooked his finger in the fabric and pushed it aside as he pressed himself against your cunt. He impaled you a little at a time, pausing to bask in each inch until he filled you up completely.
His grip tightened on your hip and he began to move you against him. Your toes barely met the floor as he slid you up and down his length. Each time, his flesh clapped against your ass as the panties twisted painfully.
“Tell me you like my dick,” he snarled. You murmured and shook your head. “Tell me!” He barked.
“I-- I-- I like your dick.” You sputtered.
“Mmmhmm,” he rutted into you even harder. “Tell me you love me inside of you, sweetie.”
You whined as your thighs tingled and tensed in tortured pleasure. “I love… love you inside me.”
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he sped up again, slamming into your already raw ass. “Tell me you love me. You love me, don’t you?”
“Wha--”
“Say it.” He demanded.
“I l-love you,” you gasped as your eyes rolled back and the waves crested. “I love you.”
“Fuck, I can feel you cumming all over me,” he purred as wet noises filled the air. “Fuck, look at you, sweetie.”
You groaned as your arms bent beneath you and you leaned on your elbows as he lifted your ass even higher, his hands slipping to your thighs as he pushed your legs back against his.
“You like to make me happy, hmm? You like being my pretty little wife.” He hammered into you as his voice grew deep and fractured. “I’m gonna cum in you, sweetheart.”
“N-n-no,” your head rolled back and forth on the bed as you were helpless against him.
“You want me to make you a mommy?” He slithered. “You could grow big for daddy.”
He shoved you forward suddenly and fell atop you. He crushed you beneath him as he kept his hips moving and fucked you into the mattress. He slid his arm under your neck and squeezed. He jolted into you painfully as you spasmed once more in reviled delight.
“Here I go,” he uttered. “Daddy’s cumming.”
He grunted and your walls milked him as you felt his heat spill into you. You grabbed at his arm as your head began to throb and the cuts that lined your flesh burned. You felt everything, the pain, the pleasure, the despair, the fear, the hopelessness all at once.
And when he stopped, all your strength was sapped from you. Still deep inside you, he dragged his arm from beneath you and held himself over you as he watched his cock slipped from your cunt. His cum spilled out and coated your folds and seeped into the panties.
The mattress shifted and he grabbed the back of your blouse along the collar. “Take this off…” He tugged. “Then get in daddy’s lap.”
My beautiful son Morgan has finally been released to the world! Find more info about him in the video above or on my website! I’m not expecting a ton of popularity for Morgan since he’s masculine, soft and CV-C encoded, but I’m really proud of the video I made!
Warnings: nonconsensual sex, death, murder, violence, stalking, paranoia, blood, gore, and other warnings to be added
This is dark!Bucky Barnes with a likelihood off dark!Steve Rogers as well and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Your stalker gets closer.
Note: Alright, things are ramping up. As always, mind the warnings and take care of yourselves.
Thank you. Love you guys!
As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3
You didn't sleep much. Shallow spurts laced with fear. Your dreams when they came were vague but horrifying. A shadow, a voice, the feeling of being watched. Always.
You were roused by a creak. You'd left your door half-open last night.
You sat up, the curtains drawn, and looked around. You rubbed your temple and pushed the covers away from you. You pulled down the hem of your tee and dragged your feet across the room. You elbowed the door open and stepped into the hall.
You looked around the corner into the living room. Bucky sat on the couch where you’d left him the night before. He cradled the tablet on his thigh as he yawned and flicked the screen.
“Did you sleep at all?” You asked, your throat dry and scratchy.
“You?” He asked as he looked up. “I just sent the audio into forensics for review. We might be able to run analysis on his voice and they’re working on tracing the call.”
“And what do I do?” You crossed your arms.
“What you’ve been doing,” he set the tablet on the coffee table and stood. He stretched his arms above him, the metal plates of his left contracting as he lowered it. “As far as we know, he has no idea about us. I came in the back and to be honest, as a civilian, you react before you think. He called you to make sure you were still here. To reassure himself that not all was lost.”
“How do you know this? Do you deal with this often?”
“Well, no, I deal with assassins and spies more often but… well, I can’t divulge the extent of our intelligence. I can only say that what we found sets him on par with my usual work.”
“Wouldn’t it be safer if I actually knew what was going on?” You prodded.
“No, trust me. You know what you need to.” He said staunchly.
You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue and shrugged. “You want a coffee?”
“If you’re making some,” he rubbed his nose as he watched you cross the room, “I’ll leave before you but… I’ll be around.”
“Like last night?” You challenged.
“That’s on me. I shouldn’t have been so careless but the next time he calls, you won’t be alone.”
“Apparently I haven’t been for a while,” you said. “If he has my number, what else does he have?”
“Think about what you have. You have me and the whole of S.H.I.E.L.D. behind you,” he reproached. “And let me tell you, when I’m given a mission, I complete it.”
“I want to believe you,” you said as you took out the canister of coffee, “I really do.”
👁️
You were distracted on your way to work. The voice lingered in your head, the words. The necklace bouncing over the collar of your coat was barely a comfort. What would Bucky do if the killer appeared right then? Could he get to your fast enough? He said he’d be close, watching, but was he closer than your stalker?
You picked a ball of lint from your glove as you ran up the station steps and onto the street. Once you were at work you could forget. You’d be surrounded by people; co-workers, clients, and the occasional messenger. For once, the ringing phone welcomed you. You knew what awaited you on the other end; an appointment to be made or a transfer to another part of the office. Simple.
Your boss, Mr. Drousseau, was often first to the office. He was unlocking the door as you rounded the corner. He cradled a vase of flowers against him, his briefcase clutched in his hand, as he twisted the key and tried to open the door with his other arm. You rushed forward as the door threatened to fall shut again.
“Here,” you grabbed the door and he blinked at you in surprise. “I got it.”
He grunted and wrenched his key out before stepping inside. You followed as he crossed to your desk and plunked the vase down. He flicked a petal from his shoulder as he turned back to you.
“What are those?” You looked at the long-stemmed tulips; out of season and no doubt expensive. “Is your wife--?”
“Some carrier just handed them off,” He set his briefcase on a chair in the waiting area and took off his long jacket. “They’ve got your name on them?”
“What?” You neared the desk and took the card. Your name was scrawled in slanted letters on the front. You placed your bag beside the vase and carefully opened the card. “I don’t know who--”
You almost dropped the cardstock but instead closed it again. Your cheek twitched as you looked up at Drousseau and tapped the card with your fingernail.
“A surprise from my father,” you lied. “He lives so far away…”
“Mmm,” Drousseau nodded as he hung his jacket. “Well, next time, tell him to have them sent to you directly.”
“Sure. Yeah, sorry,” you kept the card between two fingers as you unzipped your coat. “I’ll send you a copy of today’s roster.”
He grumbled as he grabbed his briefcase and jingled his keys as he went to his office door. He paused as he unlocked the door. “Coffee.” He said. “Espresso if you’re feeling particularly generous.”
You smiled at his back and let out a sigh only when his door closed behind him. He saw you as a glorified barista and didn’t seem to realise that you organised the chaos of his own success. Without you, he wouldn’t know which way was up. Well, he might learn that soon enough.
You slipped out of your coat and hung it. You pinched the card and shuddered as you carefully opened it again. There were no words on the inside. Only a stark, red splotch. You ran your thumb over it and the edge flaked away. It couldn’t be… blood.
But what else would it be? Who else would send them?
You closed the card and crumpled it in your hand. Panic squeezed your heart and you raced to the paper shredder hidden behind the copier. You flicked the switch and fed the card into the machine. The grind of the blade echoed your stomach. You hadn’t eaten that morning; you couldn’t.
You looked down at the flower dangling from your neck. You spoke to it quietly. “He sent flowers,” you felt crazy, like you were talking to yourself, “What does that mean?”
Your phone vibe in your bag on the desk and you stepped past your chair. You fished around for your cell and pulled it out.
‘It means he’s trying to scare you,’ Bucky’s text flashed across the screen, quickly followed by another. ‘Don’t let him. I’m here.’
You shook your hand and didn’t reply. You put your phone face down on your desk and touched your temples. You weren’t sure that anyone, even Bucky, could keep you safe.
👁️
It was only the flowers that day. You spent much of your working hours watching the door. You watched over your shoulder on your way home, convinced that every fellow pedestrian and passenger was a monster. When you got to your apartment, you locked the door and checked every inch of your apartment.
As you paced, your phone shook. You stared at it until it stilled and then it began again. You answered it shakily and let out a long breath as Bucky’s voice rose from the speaker.
“You’re not responding to me. You can’t do that. I need to make certain you’re safe at all times. That’s my job. You understand?” He chided.
“You have the bug, don’t you? You can hear everything.” You sat and fidgeted on the couch. “And you’re close. You’d know if anyone… if anyone…”
“Yes, but you’re cooperation only helps, alright?” He said. “I know you’re scared but right now he’s just playing games. He’s trying to make you do something stupid so don’t do that. You’re doing exactly what he wants; you’re panicking.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you hissed, “That’s the point.”
“Go to your window. The one away from the street in your bedroom.” He said.
“What?”
“Just do it and look up a few floors.”
You sniffed and stood up. You went to your room and rounded the bed. You pulled aside the curtain and searched the brick building just across the alley. A small glint came through a window only three floors up. You heard a tap on the other end; the sound of metal on glass.
“See. I’m close. You’re safe. He won’t get any closer than me. I promise.” He said.
“Oh, uh,” you stepped back from the window. “Okay. I… thank you.”
“It’s my job,” he said, “And yours is to get some rest. You’re no good exhausted. That’s what he wants.”
“Okay,” you mumbled.
The line clicked and you sat on the foot of your bed. You dropped your phone to the mattress and took a breath. You got up slowly and went to the bathroom. You closed the door and looked at yourself in the mirror. You unclasped the necklace and hung it from the cabinet handle to keep from losing it. You undressed blindly and let your clothes heap on the floor.
The rings of the shower curtain chimed as you pulled it open and placed the stopper in the drain. You turned the faucet until it steam and stepped into the rising flood. You stretched before you lowered yourself down into the tub. Your stiff muscles loosened and you felt the day float away.
Just a moment of peace before it would all come back. Just a moment to yourself.
👁️
The next morning was unusually sunny though the night had been little different. Despite your fatigue, sleep was still elusive. Even when you did manage to dose, it was shallow and unsatisfying. You woke with a weight in the back of your head and finished two cups of coffee before you readied for your last day of work before the weekend.
The tulips remained on your desk. You’d forgotten about them even with the stream of compliments on the bouquet. You’d offered it to several coworkers but had met only with polite refusal. You sat and set yourself up as Drousseau shuffled around in his office.
Your first call of the day was easy enough. One of Drousseau’s oldest clients needed to be patched through. You hit transfer but before you could put the phone down, it rang again. You hit answer and gave your usual greeting.
“You like the flowers?” The same, eerie voice as two nights before. “They made me think of you.”
“What?” You breathed as you pushed yourself away from the desk and your chair rolled back until the spiral cord was taut. “What do you--”
“You’re not the rose type. You’re so sweet. So pure, baby girl.” He continued as your stomach plummeted. You looked around at the flurry of activity around you; the whir of the copier, the clacking of keys, the quiet chatter of employees. It was surreal. “Someone like you in a world like this is made to be used.”
“I don’t know what you want from me. I’m at work. You can’t call here--” Your cell vibed beside your keyboard as you tried to keep your voice down.
“I can do whatever I want, baby girl. I have done everything I want when I want… except you… no, you need to wait. It has to be the right way.” He snarled. “Yes, soon. You will be ready soon.”
“Please--”
The line went dead as your cell began to buzz incessantly. You slammed down the receiver and grabbed your mobile as it shook. You stood and looked around. No one seemed to notice your distress. You stormed off to the restroom and closed yourself in. You slid your finger across the screen and held it to your ear.
“Bucky?” You croaked.
“It’s me.” He confirmed. “You alright? That him?”
“Y-yes,” you trembled as you braced the sink. “He said… he said soon. Bucky, he’s going to kill me. I know it.”
“Shhhh, please, take a breath.” He coaxed. “And count, like I showed you.”
“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” you whined. “Please, I can’t do this.”
“Breathe,” he ordered, “One…” He began to count as you stared in the mirror. You nodded in time until your breaths evened out and you huffed into the phone. “Good, good. Now, you have to act like everything is alright. Stay at work. You’re safe there.”
“And… after?”
“You know I’ll be there. I already am, alright? I know everyone who walks through that door, honey. You trust me?”
Your lashes fluttered and you let go of the sink. ‘Honey.’ Your mind lingered on that word but you quickly shrugged it off.
“I do,” you said, “You’ll protect me.”
“I will,” he assured you. “This creep is no match for me.”
“Yeah,” you murmured, “Okay. I’m alright. I gotta go back.”
“Alright,” he said softly. “I’ll be here.”
👁️
When work was done, you didn’t go directly to the subway. You needed to sleep and you needed to forget. There was one way to do both; alcohol. Just down the block was a liquor store. You’d grab a bottle of wine and be on your way. A brief detour before you could hide once more in your boxlike apartment.
You crossed the street and a figure caught in the corner of your eye. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone as you turned down the sidewalk. You held up the cell and angled it so you could see the reflection over your shoulder. There was a man a few feet behind; he was tall but walking slowly with his head down, a hood casting shadows over his face. You slowly lowered your phone and squeezed until you thought it would break.
You neared the door of the shop. You knew he was still there. You dipped through the door and the chirp of the sensor made your flinch. You quickly flitted to the back aisle of scotch and whiskey and peered back to the front. The man in the hoodie passed the window but peered back at you as he did.
“A man,” you pulled out the necklace from beneath your jacket, “There’s a man following me. I saw him.”
Your phone quaked and you dropped the necklace. You fumbled with your cell and pretended to browse the aged malts.
“I see him but I can’t see his face.” Bucky said.
“I didn’t either. What do I do?”
“Stay calm. What are you even doing?”
“I was… gonna get some wine.” You went to the aisle of imports and scanned the shelves. “That’s all.”
“Well, get whatever and go home. Don’t worry about this creep. I’ll deal with him.” Bucky said. “He’s probably not even our guy, just another dirtbag.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just buy your wine and get to the train.” He hung up bluntly and you sighed.
You grabbed a cabernet and went to the counter. You paid and hid the bottle in your bucket bag. You reluctantly pushed through the door and swiftly turned down the street. The man was behind you. You checked again with your phone, this time with your camera on. You snapped a pic over your shoulder and quickly tucked it into your sleeve.
You looked up and saw another hooded man heading towards you. You almost tripped as he passed you and recognized Bucky’s short stubble poking out. You didn’t stop as a commotion rose behind you.
“Watch it,” Bucky growled. No response and you ran across the street.
You hurried on and stopped at the corner to look back. Bucky stood with arms crossed against the front of a convenience store and the other man was gone. He nodded and pushed himself away from the chipped brick. You turned back and raced to the subway.
Home, home, home. Just get home.
👁️
Your apartment was already dark when you got home. The days grew shorter and shorter as the winter threatened to storm down on the city. You plopped your bottle of wine on the counter and kicked off your shoes. You hung your bag and coat from the rack and checked your phone.
‘Text when home.’ Bucky’s message seared into your vision.
You sent your response and uncorked the bottle. You poured yourself a glass and carried it to the living room with your cell. You left them on the coffee table as you went to change. You dumped your blouse, skirt, and thick stockings into the hamper along with your bra and panties. You took the necklace off and set it on your night table.
You pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and an old tee. You scooped up the necklace and took it with you into the front room. You hung it from the lamp beside the couch and took a gulp of wine as you searched for something to watch. The alcohol burned your hungry stomach.
A knock came at the door and you nearly choked as you set your glass down. You peered through the hole. It was Bucky. You unlocked the door and pulled it open.
“What are you doing here?”
“That was pretty creepy,” he said as he stepped past you without welcome. “Wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ve cased the entire building. Didn’t see him around.”
“You think he would’ve followed me here? You said it was likely not him.”
“Maybe not but the guy was leery enough to follow you to the store,” Bucky went to the window and looked out. “You need to tell me when you change your plans.”
“Sorry, I-- It wasn’t far so I thought--”
“If you’re as scared as you’re acting, you’ll get your shit together and listen to me.” He closed the blinds. “You take a detour like that and that’s trouble for both of us.”
He rounded the armchair and neared the coffee table. He ran a metal finger around the rim of your glass. “Hope it was worth it.”
“I’m sorry,” you said again, “I didn’t mean to--”
“You need something, you tell me. I’ll take care of it.” He interrupted. “You go anywhere, you clear it with me. We’re not fucking around anymore.”
“Bucky, I…” you pouted. “I didn’t--”
“Look, I’m not mad but I have to be strict. We don’t have room for mistakes.” He neared you and his face softened. “It’s for your own good, honey.”
You stared at him and reached to the collar of his jacket. He unzipped it and backed away to hang it over your own. You frowned.
“I already sent in an incident report. The Director said I should keep close watch tonight. Just in case.”
“Oh,” you watched him unlace his boots. “I… Okay?”
“I don’t mean to crowd you but better safe than sorry.” He stood.
“Right,” you sidled past him, “You want any wine?”
“Nah,” he waved you off, “Stuff doesn’t really do anything for me.”
You nodded and went back to the couch. You sat and hit continue watching. You picked at your fingernail anxiously. Bucky sat on the other side of the couch and groaned. He stretched his fingers and they cracked loudly.
“You hungry? I can order something? I don’t feel much like cooking.” You offered.
“If you’re hungry,” he shrugged. “You must be.”
You played with your phone and set it down to take another drink. “You like Chinese?”
“Sure,” he said, “Whatever you want, honey.”
You grabbed your phone and tried to hide your discomfort. Were you just rattled from the hooded creep? Paranoid because your life had turned into a murder mystery? Or was this man crossing a line?
You opened up the app and scrolled to the meal for two. You confirmed the order and put your phone on the arm of the couch. “About half an hour,” you said.
You looked over as Bucky reached up to the lamp and played with the necklace. He slowly retracted his hand and chuckled.
“You know, you talk in your sleep,” he chuckled. “Necklace picks it up sometimes.”
“I do?” You wondered.
“Nothing really. Doesn’t really make sense.” He smirked. “But… it’s kinda funny.”
“Oh,” you sat back. You wanted another mouthful of wine but you were already almost done your first glass. “Weird.”
You crossed your arms and looked at the television. Everything was weird. The murders, your stalker, and even this man they sent to protect you. It was all just a little off and that scared you even more.
👁️
When the food arrived, Bucky got up to answer the door. You ate at the coffee table and finished your second glass of wine. The alcohol helped your appetite and for the first time in days, you managed to eat more than a few bites. Bucky didn’t need any help as he threw back fried rice and back ribs.
You cleaned up after and tossed the containers in the trash. You were a little tipsy as you flopped onto the couch and rated your meal on the app. Bucky filled your glass for you and returned the bottle to the kitchen before taking his place once more. You thanked him and took a sip.
“Thought you weren’t exactly happy about this,” you raised the glass.
“I can’t blame you. Hell, if I could get anything out of it, I’d have a glass of my own.” He mused. “So, the phone call, we need to go over what he said to you. Obviously, I couldn’t hear it.”
“Right now?” You set your glass down.
“Before I forget,” he reached into his pocket and took out his own phone. He opened up the notepad. “Doesn’t have to be exact.”
“He didn’t say… much…” You began and you regretted the two glasses of wine. “He said I… I was pure… and that…” Your cheeks burned and you felt the flutter of nerves, “He wants to use me and…” You swallowed as your lips quivered, “He said soon. That he would do something soon.”
You grabbed your wine and drank deeply.
“That’s all. That’s all he said.” You put the glass down and held your head. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You’re doing all you can,” his hand settled gently on your back and you winced. He rubbed lightly as he shifted closer and placed his phone on the table. “And you got me.”
“Yeah, but I-- I don’t know if you can stop him.” You looked at him as tears blurred your vision. “And I don’t know what I did to make him do all this. He’s killed others because of me and… And how am I supposed to live with that?”
“He did that, not you,” Bucky insisted, “It’s not your fault--”
Your phone slipped from the arm of the couch suddenly as it vibrated. Bucky’s hand dropped away as you took your cell. You held up the flashing screen. There was no number, not even ‘Private’ or ‘Unknown’. Just the two icons; answer or ignore.
You hovered your thumb over the latter and Bucky stopped you. He shook his head as you looked at him. “Answer it.”
You grimaced and he let you go. He moved away from you and you hesitated. You hit answer and the screen lit up. It was a video call. You saw a white ceiling and heard the muffled sobbing of a woman. Goosebumps rose on your skin as the camera moved erratically and the colours blurred together and cleared to form the image of a woman’s face.
She had a gag in her mouth, tied in place by a black piece of fabric. Tears stained her cheeks as she squirmed.
“Baby girl,” the voice spoke from offscreen as a gloved hand appeared holding a knife. It dragged the edge down the woman’s cheek as she squealed. “She’s nothing. Nothing compared to you.”
You were frozen, weighed down with dread and fear as you sat gaping at the screen.
“I’ll show you…” He turned the knife. “Show you that she can never be you. That there is only you.”
The hand moved so fast and drew a sudden line of red across the woman’s throat. The cut gushed as the woman choked on the gag and her own blood. The sickening noise of her death filled your ears and the man moaned your name. The screen went black and you dropped your phone.
“Oh my god,” you gasped as you shook violently and the alcohol bubbled in your stomach, “Oh my god, oh my god.”
You stood dizzily and fell back on the couch. Bucky touched your arm and you pulled away as you bent over the side of the couch at the sudden revolt inside of you. You wretched onto the hardwood as tears spilled from your eyes. Your body contracted as you were overwhelmed in fear and revulsion.
“Oh my god,” you cried, “Oh my god…”
Bucky pulled you back to him and stretched his arm over your shoulders. He hushed you as he hugged you to him and rocked you back and forth.
“You’re okay, honey. There was nothing you could do,” he said, “Shh, calm down. Breathe…” He caressed your head as he held you, “Just breathe. I’m here.”
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Warnings: nonconsensual sex, death, murder, violence, stalking, paranoia, blood, gore, and other warnings to be added
This is dark!Bucky Barnes with a likelihood off dark!Steve Rogers as well and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: A close call has you on the move.
Note: Alright, things are ramping up. As always, mind the warnings and take care of yourselves.
Thank you. Love you guys!
As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3
A third glass of wine helped you sleep better than you had in the last week. You didn’t remember much past the bottom of the glass; only the fear and the way it burned your throat. You didn’t remember falling asleep or even going to your bed.
Slowly, as if drowning in oil, you woke. One eye opened, then the other. Your head pounded as the grey winter light peeked in. You groaned and a sudden crash made you shoot up in your bed. The duvet fell away from your chest as you listened to the grunting and the footsteps barreling across the floor. You were dizzy as your heart raced.
You kicked out from under the covers and stumbled frantically to the bedroom door. You peered out into the living room, the dark figure at the open door. Bucky braced himself against the frame and swore. He looked as if he would bolt out until his eyes settled on you.
He gritted his teeth and pushed himself straight. He closed the door and locked it firmly. He shook his head and crossed to you.
“I didn’t mean to wake you--”
“What’s going on?” You looked around. The coffee table was overturned, the lamp too, and pillow leaked its innards onto the floor. “What was that? What happened?”
“It’s okay, I think I got him much worse,” Bucky assured you.
You noticed for the first time the knife in his hand. The same black handle that he holstered on his belt. You blanched as your eyes scaled his torso and the dark blood spread across his grey tee shirt.
“Did you?” You asked as you backed away. “Oh my, that’s a lot of blood.” You touched your stomach, still sensitive from the night before and roused by the sight of red. “Are you okay?”
He looked down and touched along his ribs. He hissed and carefully set down his knife on the arm of the couch. “Shit.” He pulled open the slice in the cotton and chuckled. “Fucker got me good.”
“How can you laugh?” You gasped. “What do you mean-- Was it him? Was he in here?”
“Yeah and so was I,” Bucky raised the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. “I took care of him.”
“He got away,” you looked at the door. “He got in! How could he--”
“Well, I assumed it was easier in a carrier’s uniform,” Bucky bunched up his shirt and stemmed the blood with it. His thick arms tensed and his broad chest puffed out. “But… I think I got a decent peek at his face.”
He went to the lamp and pulled it up. You watched him stunned. How could he be so casual? Your eyes fell to a trail of blood that led to the door and was smeared across the side of the coffee table.
“I told you, I got him worse,” Bucky said as he looked at you. “You got some bandages, or something?”
He sat heavily and leaned back as he looked under the tee shirt. You blinked and nodded dumbly. You recalled the video call the night before; the woman’s blood pouring from her throat, bubbling along her lips. You went to the bathroom and searched beneath the sink for the first aid kit you’d never even opened.
You came back out and unclasped the metal box. You set it on the corner of the couch and bent to flip the coffee table. Bucky stopped you. “Leave it. It’s got evidence on it.”
You stood and stared at him as he took the first aid kit and balanced it on his thigh. He stirred around with one hand and pulled out the bottle of alcohol. He pressed down on the tee before removing it and sprayed the gash. You slumped onto the couch and tried not to look. You had never done well with the sight of blood. There was so much, you could smell it even.
“Shit,” he uttered, “I think I’m gonna need some help.”
You looked up again and he pulled out a spool and a packaged needle. You’d never thought you’d need those.
“I can’t-- Blood, it makes me… sick,” you murmured. “I don’t know--”
“Well, I can’t exactly see well enough to do it myself,” he grunted. “Honey, it’s fine. It’s nothing serious but it needs stitching.”
You squinted at the pet name. The more he said it, the more odd it seemed. You weren’t his honey, you were a job.
You sniffed and neared him. Your hand shook as he ripped open the packet and threaded the needle. You took it from him as he held it out. You stared at the metal point then glanced at him.
“I’ve never…”
“Have you ever sewn? A cross-stitch maybe?” He asked.
“I took home econ in high school but that was… a long time ago,” you swallowed. “What if I make it worse?”
“It’s just like a tear in a pair of pants. That’s all. Don’t think about it. Just--” He gripped the tee shirt tightly, “Do it.”
He lowered the cotton and bared the cut again. Your lashes fluttered and you let out a long breath. You got closer and bent over him. You hesitantly touched the flesh along the cut and pointed the needle along it. You bit down as you poked his skin.
“Come on,” he rasped, “We got a lot more to do.”
You pushed the needle’s nose through his flesh and your stomach flipped. You held your breath as you pulled the threaded through and repeated the action, again and again. His blood stained your fingertips and when you reached the end, he stilled your hand and took the needle from you. He looked down as he knotted the tail and you barely kept from tripping over the coffee table as you retreated.
“Go. Pack a bag,” He pushed himself to his feet as he tossed the thread in the kit and slid the needle back into the plastic. “I’ve gotta make a call. I doubt they’ll let you stay here any longer.”
“Where will I go?” You asked as you rubbed your fingertips, still wet with his blood.
“Somewhere safe. I promise.” He said as he wiped his hands on his tee shirt. He looked around and bent to retrieve his phone from beside the tv stand. “But right now, we don’t have time for all the questions.”
You just nodded as he dialed and retreated to wash your hands.
As your adrenaline slaked away, your hangover became more apparent. Not only your head, but your entire body ached. Had it been worth fleeting moments of oblivion?
You went to your bedroom and dug around the closet for the wrinkled old duffel bag. It felt hopeless; futile. Even with Bucky there, that monster had almost gotten to you. Was there anywhere he could keep you safe?
You shoved some clothes in the bag and went to the bathroom to grab your toothbrush and other toiletries. You heard Bucky talking and the distant voice buzzing from the speaker.
“We need somewhere more secure. I understand, I didn’t expect it so soon but… well, he knows now. He’s going to be even more desperate…”
You zipped up the duffel and marched out to the living room. You plopped it on the floor and crossed your arms. Bucky hung up as he turned to you, dropping his fingers from the blinds he’d been peeking through.
“You said he would hide for a bit,” you said. “But… why is he doing all this?”
“We’re just going of the BSU assessment. They can be wrong. They can draw up a whole profile but it’s almost impossible to predict what these types do next. We went off similar cases, similar circumstances. But like I said, this isn’t our typical suspect.”
“Uh huh, and yet you won’t tell me how. And he’s dangerous enough to almost get past you--”
“Not even close,” Bucky insisted. “Honey, come on. I do this all the time. You have no idea what the fuck we’re dealing with so stop it with the questions and go get changed. Back up’s on the way.”
You flinched at his tone. You huffed and shook your head. You went back to the bedroom and pulled out some jeans and a long-sleeve sweatshirt. You really didn’t care what you looked like.
When you entered the living room again, Bucky dropped your bag closer to the door. You crossed your arms as he took his hoodie from over the back of the couch and zipped it up over his bare torso. You grabbed your phone from the shelf where it was charging and he was on you in an instant. His hand covered yours, the metal cold and hard.
“You have to leave it,” he said. “We can’t compromise our new position.”
“What? But--”
“What do you think is going on right now? Life as you know it is over. No more phone,” he yanked the cell from your grasp, “No more apartment, no more work.” You grimaced and held up your phone. He squeezed until you heard it crack and it bent in his metal grip. “You got to trust me.”
“What the fuck? You didn’t have to do that.” You stared at your broken phone as he dropped it back on the shelf.
“Honey, you gotta start listening to me. Fuck around and I can’t protect you.”
Your lip twitched. Honey, honey, honey. That wasn’t your name. You shrugged and spun away from him.
“When are we going?” You asked.
“Soon,” Bucky said, “Get your coat, your shoes. I’m just waiting for the call.”
You brushed by him and pulled on your boots, ignoring your heels. You grabbed your jacket and you heard a soft vibe. Bucky reached over your shoulder as he took his own coat and stepped into his own boots. He exhaled as he checked his phone.
“Alright, let’s go. Back door.” He directed as he turned the lock, “Come on.”
He opened the door and grabbed your duffel. He waved you into the hall and locked the door behind him with one hand. He tucked away his key and nudged you onward. Only the stomp of your boots sounded as you hurried down the stairwell and he pushed by you to open the heavy door.
He ushered you out into the early morning chill and caught your elbow as he followed you. He urged you across the parking lot to a black car with tinted windows just at the edge of the tarmac. He opened the back door and tossed our bag inside.
“Get in,” he said as he looked around. “Now.”
You ducked through the door and Bucky climbed in the passenger seat. You blinked as you caught a glimpse of the driver in the rearview. Then he turned to nod at Bucky and you recognized him. Steve Rogers greeted his old friend with a quiet ‘hey’.
“Go,” Bucky demanded.
“No introductions?” Steve put the car in gear and pulled past the rows of cars.
“This is Steve,” Bucky said sharply as he looked back at you, “I know you’ve read the case file. You already know her.”
“Where are we going?” You asked softly as you leaned on the duffel.
“Safe house. About two hours out,” Steve answered before Bucky could. “You’ll be safe there.”
You chewed your lip. Well, surely two was better than one and yet Captain America’s presence was hardly reassuring. That just confirmed to you how fucked this whole situation was.
“Fury didn’t like the last minute notice but he understood,” Steve said to Bucky.
“Mmm, we can talk about it later.” Bucky grumbled. “Honey, why don’t you get some more sleep. It’s gonna be a long ride.”
Steve peeked at you in the mirror as he turned out of the parking lot. He glanced at Bucky next but stayed quiet as his eyes returned to the road.
“Take your own advice, Buck,” Steve snickered. “You both look like you need it.”
👁️
You didn’t sleep. You couldn’t. A mixture of anxiety and the shadow of alcohol kept you awake. Even so, you closed your eyes and kept quiet in the backseat. The motion of the road lulled you and helped ease your headache. Few words passed between the men up front.
When you did open your eyes, tall trees passed you by and lined the winding road ahead. You were well out of the city but couldn't guess where. Maybe you should have paid attention. Or not. It was better to be far away, to lose yourself in hopes your stalker would as well.
The cabin was nothing special. It looked like any other retreat away from the world. Deep in the heart of the forest, it felt an entirely different world. As Steve killed the engine, you sat up and unbuckled your seat belt. You slid out of the backseat with your bag in hand as Bucky went to the trunk and pulled out a bag of his own. Steve did the same and checked the time on his watch.
You followed Steve as Bucky stayed to your rear. You didn't miss his hand on his knife or the way he looked around. Up the steps, you wait as Steve pressed his hand over the sign that said “home sweet home" and the door clicked. He nudged the door open with his foot and let you in. Bucky closed the door and the latch whirred loudly back into place.
Steve turned and opened a panel beside the door. He pressed a finger against the screen and quickly typed in several codes. A sudden lurch and the shudders rose on their own; metal slats folding and rolling up in unison. The lights all flicked on at once and the growl of a generator rose from below.
"Windows are bulletproof. There's no way in or out without one of us," Steve pointed between himself and Bucky, "And most assuredly, you have two super soldiers watching your back."
"Mmhmm," you muttered as you looked around. "Well, I think it's bad enough I even need two."
"Well better than none," Bucky said. "Steve, you can show her around. I need to call HQ, give a description of this guy before it's too far gone."
"Sure," Steve said and waved Bucky off. He turned to you as he unzipped his coat. "Not sure why he's asking me. I've never been to this one before."
"How long will I be here?" You asked as you took of your jacket and he took it from you to hang it over his own.
"Well," he leaned on the wall as he removed his boots, "I hope not too long. If Bucky got a good look at this guy, no more than a week or two. "
"So… you know… everything?"
"I've caught up," he said, "Not gonna lie, it's… intense but you shouldn't worry. Me and Bucky, we've never had a mission we couldn't handle."
"Guess it's better than being on my own," you said. "I just… why me?"
He tucked his hands in his pocket and looked at you. "Well, from what I know, these types rarely have logical reasoning. You can't blame yourself." He shifted his weight on his feet, "Hey," he pointed behind you to the next room, "A woodstove. How about that?"
👁️
When Steve finished the tour, or rather aimless wandering, of the safe house, he let you pick a room. There were several and you didn’t give much thought to your choice. You just wanted somewhere to relax. It was barely after noon and already it felt like the day had dragged on. After such a terrifying night, you had been thoroughly unprepared for the startling reality of the day.
He left you to seemingly ordinary room. A double bed, plaid duvet, chestnut night tables and a matching dresser. A carpet woven in the Navajo fashion was sprawled across the floor and a small desk looked out the window. A portrait of pine and maple seemed to mirror the view on the opposite wall and added to the cabin’s cozy allure.
You placed your duffel atop the dresser and slid open one drawer at a time as you unpacked your hastily collected attire. Two pairs of jeans, a pair of pajamas, a pair of loose shorts, socks, several shirts with vary styles and sleeve lengths, a second bra, and your scramble of toiletries. The only thing that was missing were your underwear. You swore you had grabbed those first as they lined your top drawer but they were no where to be found in your mess.
You could’ve overlooked them. Easily. You were so rattled, so hollow, so suffocated by terror that you couldn’t think of much but the smell of blood and the voice that grew clearer and clear in your mind.
Your head continued to pulse with the dregs of your previous night’s excess and the bile boiled in your stomach. You sat on the bed and held your head. You took a breath, restless despite your fatigue, and sighed. You hadn’t done anything and yet it felt as if you had dug yourself into the hole. As if no matter what you did, the pit got deeper and deeper and soon the dirt would start to pile in on you.
You shook off your despair and stood so quickly you stumbled. You needed to just stop. You needed to breathe; calm down. As blunt as Bucky could be, he was often right. You had him and Steve looking out for you.
You peeked out into the hallway and listened. You heard the two men talking but they were not close enough to decipher their words. You stepped out and crossed to the washroom just opposite your room. You locked yourself in and searched the cupboard for a towel. There were at least a dozen to your surprise and you hung one over the bar before you twisted the faucet on.
Anything to wash away your hangover. To cleanse you of the constant dread of your existence. A couple minutes under a hot shower to forget. A few moment for yourself. To just be.
You undressed and winced as the peculiar pain between your legs. You’d felt tender for much of the day and assumed maybe the stress was bringing on an early period. No blood, however. You felt grimy as you peeled off your layers and stared at yourself in the mirror. You looked as worn out as you felt.
You slipped past the curtain and welcomed the sheer heat of the downpour. You let it wash over you, let the steam smother you, let the rivulets slake over you and swirl down the drain. It was second, minutes, hours, eons… you could not tell.
You were sleepy as you turned off the tap. You wrapped yourself in the fluffy white towel and gather your clothes. There wasn’t much for you to do here; Steve had said as much. You stepped out into the hall and were startled by the figure in your bedroom door. Bucky turned to face you. His eyes flicked down for just a moment as you clutched your towel.
“I knocked,” he said. “I didn’t realise--”
“It’s fine. What do you need?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“As good as I can be,” the warmth seeped from you as the air nipped at your bare skin, “Thanks.”
“Good, good,” he nodded and smiled awkwardly. “I have a favour to ask you.”
“A favour?” You hugged your clothes in one arm as you kept your distance.
“Well, we only have rations really in the cupboards. Not very good. Vacuum sealed and bland. So thought maybe you could make a list and me and Steve could take care of that tomorrow.” He explained. “And anything else you need. Shampoo, toothpaste, whatever…”
“Oh, uh, sure,” you pressed your lips together. “You mind if I, uh, get dressed then get back to you?”
“Y-yeah,” he seemed to realise he was blocking your door, “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be downstairs. We’re just going over some evidence.”
“Alright,” you sidled past him. “I’ll be down soon.”
You quickly closed your door and leaned against it. You listened through the thick wood. You heard a soft tap and the drag of something against the other side. A whisper you could not discern before his footsteps finally retreated. Odd but perhaps you were only hearing things. Paranoia could make the tallest tales seem true.
You dressed, mournful of your forgotten underwear, and made your way downstairs. Bucky sat with his back to you as you entered the dining room, a chandelier with fake candles hung from the ceiling and cast hazy shadows along the walls. Steve sat to his left and slid over a piece of paper.
Both heard you enter and looked over at you; Steve smiled, Bucky stared pensively.
“I can make that list now,” you neared as you hugged yourself. “It’s chilly in here.”
“Oh…” Steve looked down then scoffed, “Yeah, afraid we’re not so sensitive to it. We tend to forget.” He stood and stretched his arms. “I’ll go figure out the furnace.”
“So, have you--” Your voice caught in your throat as you neared. You caught sight of the frantic scribbles, the smeared led across the paper. Bucky tried to sweep the sheet into a folder but you stopped him as Steve froze behind his chair. “What is that?”
He didn’t need to tell you. It was a drawing of you, crude but discernible. You were bound and naked, legs wide and there was blood smeared down your chest. You gaped at the sketch and shook your head. Bucky stood slowly.
“He did this?” You rasped. “How many-- how many of these has he done?”
“It’s confidential,” Bucky snatched the paper and placed it in the folder. “You shouldn’t be looking at all this.”
“After last night? After he broke into my apartment this morning?! What am I supposed to do? How can I do anything if I know nothing?”
“We are taking care of it,” Bucky grabbed your shoulders. “So you just be a good girl and let us.”
“I can’t do nothing! Please, do you have any idea what it’s like? All I can think of is this-- this monster and everything he’s done. What he’s gonna do to me.” You latched onto his wrists and tried to pull him away. “I almost just wish he’d have it done with.”
Bucky growled and Steve warned him with a hum. He dropped his hands and backed away from you. He stacked up the folders and looked at Steve.
“Take her back to her room before you deal with the heat,” Bucky said. “Lock her in if you have to.”
“What? You can’t--”
“Honey, I can do whatever I want to keep you safe,” he pointed a finger in your face. “I have the clearance.”
You snorted and glanced at Steve. He gave a pitiful look in return. He motioned to the doorway as he raised his brows in exasperation. You didn’t look at Bucky again as you turned and stormed out ahead of Steve. As he caught up to you at the bottom of the stairs, he kept his voice low.
“I won’t lock you in,” he said, “Just don’t push him. He just needs time.”
“He needs time?” You scoffed.
“Look, he told me what happened this morning. He’s not the type to be left bleeding like that.” Steve explained, “And he really does want to keep you safe.”
This is dark!Bucky Barnes with a likelihood off dark!Steve Rogers as well and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You find yourself trapped.
Note: So I managed to finish this chapter before work really starts to kick my ass. Just letting y’all know, there will be a part 6 but I have an 11 hour day tomorrow and work straight through to wednesday so I’ll probably be exhausted.
That being said, I appreciate y’all reading and your reactions have been the highlight of writing!
Thank you. Love you guys!
As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3
You coughed into the blackness. Your awakening was gradual as you waded through the void and slowly broke the surface of consciousness. Your throat was dry and sore and your head swelled with each breath. You reached to touch the tender flesh along your neck, bruised by the rope which had so violently been strung around it. You only recalled the dread of your suffocation before the world turned dark.
As you moved, bright lights flicked on suddenly and you groaned as your eyes watered. You trembled as you pushed yourself up on the bed. The room was small, just big enough for the large bed and the metal chest secured with a heavy padlock. There was a heavy door with a slot and no handle and another smaller door to your left.
You shimmied to the side of the bed and turned your legs over the edge. You slowly turned as the wall behind the bed stood in contrast to the rest of the sterile white room. Every inch around the low frame, from floor to ceiling, was pasted in images and documents. A startling map of your existence.
Pictures of you in the grocery store, at work, on the train or even in your apartment, spanning years back. There were even a few of your dorm room, long forgotten to the haze of your college years. A transcript of your credits and copies of your resume and even pages of the journal you thought only known to you. The one you’d thought you lost in your move from student to adult. And the drawings; just as you remembered, sickening and horrifying.
You stood, unsteadily, and neared the demented collage. There were other pictures; of women who looked like you; crying, screaming, bleeding. You grabbed one and tore it off the wall. You crumpled it up, unable to look at the woman’s dead eyes.
You flinched as the heavy door jolted suddenly and you turned as it opened. You dropped the picture and pressed yourself to the wall as Bucky entered and the door closed behind him. His blue eyes were predatory and intent on you. His right hand twitched as he cleared his throat.
“Sit,” he said softly.
You gaped at him and shook your head. You quaked as you edged over to the corner as if you could hide there.
“Baby girl…” he warned, “Please, don’t make this difficult. I don’t want to hurt you.”
You grazed your neck with your fingertips and scoffed. The sharp breath scratched your throat and made you wince.
“You made me do that,” he said, “Please, sit.”
You blinked at him. His left hand balled into a fist and he shifted on his feet. Your heart jumped and your lip quivered. Slowly, you pushed yourself away from the wall and neared the bed. You sat sideways against the wall with one leg hanging to the floor. You folded your hands and braced for the unraveling of his wrath.
“Good girl,” he preened. “I just want to talk. That’s all I came for.”
“You’re a murderer,” you rasped, “So just kill me already.”
He smiled and chuckled. He took a breath and ran his fingers through his hair. He neared the end of the bed and gripped his hips.
“If that was what I wanted, I wouldn’t have waited so long.” He said. “All you have to do is listen, baby girl. And if you can do that, I will bring you a treat.”
“I don’t want anything from you,” you muttered, “You’re disgusting. You’re…” you shook your head as you couldn’t put into words how he made your stomach twist and churn.
He sniffed and took a deep breath.
“Where were you seven years ago? What were you doing?”
“Looks like you already know,” you paused and tried to clear your sore throat. You coughed and pressed your hands to your neck.
“You were just a student, yes?” He shifted on his feet as he spoke, “Innocent, unaware. Running across campus to get to your next class. So clueless you didn’t even notice the man you collided with. Didn’t notice me with that look in my eyes; distant, determined.”
You frowned, confused. You shrugged. You didn’t remember.
“And what did you think when you heard of what happened to the dean?”
Your heart dropped. You remembered that. It was in the headlines for weeks; the mysterious attack on the dean of criminology. It was revealed that he was a former intelligence officer but it could not be linked substantially to the event. He resigned shortly after and as any new cycle, the story washed itself out.
“You--?”
He sighed and his eyes darkened. “What I was… then. What they made me.”
“I don’t--”
“Shhhh,” he hushed you and neared the bed until his legs touched the mattress. “I was their weapon; a machine. My job was death but that day, their weapon failed. Their weapon was distracted and for that the weapon was reforged, honed, beaten down until it was once more sharp enough to use.”
You shook your head in confused, Your fingers curled until your nails cut into your palms.
“Even when they wiped my mind, you remained. The girl who smiled at me without thought; who apologized and asked if I was okay… Who gave me directions to the right building… never knowing… because she thought I was good.”
“I don’t remember. I don’t know you…”
He held up a finger and tapped his lips. You went silent and watched him.
“When I was free, when I found Bucky again, I found you.” He breathed. “And you were the same. Flitting around without a care. And you ran into me again and you apologized, as you had before, and not a second thought to the man who watched you run for the train. To the man who held the door for you the next day or returned to you the card you dropped on the sidewalk. Always just a smile.”
You touched your cheeks. You remembered the card, some forgotten coffee rewards counter you never used. It came clearer then. His gloves hand holding the cardstock, his blue eyes. It was just another random interaction in the chaotic city. But it wasn’t.
“No…” you shook your head, “But why--”
“You see, the people who corrupted me, their control has nothing to do with what I am. It is a part of me. The soldier, Bucky… one does not exist without the other. Bucky fell in love with you, Bucky wanted you, but the soldier… he didn’t how to help Bucky. How to get you. So he found the girls and he tried to figure it out.”
“Stop. Please. I can’t--”
“But even the soldier couldn’t hurt you,” he put one knee on the bed. “Bucky won’t let him.”
As he placed his other knee on the mattress, you turned to get off the bed. He caught your ankle before you could and pulled you down the bed. He climbed over you and straddled you beneath him. You struck out at him and he stopped your hands, gripping your wrists tightly.
“I told you, I won’t hurt you.” He said softly.
“You are hurting me,” you tried to pull away from him and wiggled beneath him.
“I am trying to help you,” he pushed your hands beside your head, pinning them to the bed. “I only want to love you.” He bent over you and his hot breath tickled your lips. “To feel you.”
“Please, you can’t-- I never-- I’m scared, Bucky. Please don’t hurt me.” You begged. “Please…”
His eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed. He glared at you and pressed his forehead to yours. He let go of your arms and his hands gripped your head instead.
“Listen. I’m not going to hurt you,” he growled. “But I will if you make me.”
You stared at him, paralysed beneath him. He squeezed your head until it pulsed then pushed himself up suddenly. He climbed off of you, jostling the bed, and scanned the wall of photos. He lowered his chin and nodded.
“Take your clothes off.” He said.
You stayed as you were, stunned and scared. He looked at you slowly and his lips curled.
“Do it or I will.” He warned.
You sat up. You were numb as you skirted to the edge of the bed and pulled your tee over your head. He snatched it from you and you stood to unbutton your jeans. You rolled them down and he took them in turn. You struggled to unhook your bra as you trembled and he spun you sharply. He snapped the clasp and the fabric fell away from your chest. He gathered it up and tore your panties just as easily. He even bent to take your socks as they sat balled on the floor.
You tried to cover yourself as you turned back to him. He marched to the door and stopped. He looked back at you and gritted his teeth.
“Good girl,” he smirked and then turned around and looked above the door.
A small lens sat above the frame and the door unlocked. He opened it with his foot and sent you one last glance before he pulled it shut. You slumped onto the bed and folded your legs against your chest. There was only the sheet stretched across the mattress and a single pillow. You shivered and hung your head.
You felt the eyes of all the dead women behind you. Felt the weight of their souls. And yet you were horribly alone.
👁️
Shortly after he left you, a tray was slid through the slot in the door. You ignored it at first but your stomach began to ache as the hours dripped by. You took the tray and rested it on the foot of the bed as you sat carefully. You took a long gulp from the bottle of water and the muscles of your neck reminded you of your assault.
The sandwich was cut neatly in half; ham and cheese with mustard. You chewed it without tasting and emptied the cup of applesauce. That was all you could manage and you set the tray in the corner.
The other door, the smaller one, opened up to a small booth. A toilet and sink only. You refused to be thankful for anything but were relieved to have at least that.
You hugged the pillow for much of the time. Your only shield against the cold and your nudity. You dozed off for a little, a shallow, distraught slumber.
You were awoken by the door. You sat up dizzily and stared at the figure as it cleared in your vision. The lights were dimmer as Bucky moved around. He went to the metal chest and opened the lock. You pulled the pillow to you as he closed the lid and plopped a roll atop it.
He turned to you and you cowered as he knelt on the bed. Wordlessly, he pulled on your arm until it bent painfully away from the pillow. You fought with him as he dragged it to the top corner.
“What are you doing?” You whined. “Please, don’t--”
You choked on your voice as he pulled up a leather cuff over the mattress. He wrapped it around your wrist despite your struggles and buckles it.
“Bucky, Bucky, please--”
He hushed you and grabbed your other arm. You kicked you as he forced you onto your back and shook the whole bed as he secured your other wrist. You hit his shoulder with your heel before he grabbed your left ankle and tied in down before he did the same to the right. You were stuck, stretched across the bed, writhing and whimpering as he backed away.
“What--”
“Baby girl,” he tapped his fingers atop the metal chest. “I don’t want to gag you… You have such a pretty mouth.”
You grunted and tugged on your binds. It was pointless. Even if you got loose, there was no way out of this room, no escape from this monster. Your eyes drifted to the wall above you and you closed them against the sight of the tortured women. Would he do the same to you?
You heard a clink and your eyes snapped open. You looked over at the knives that lined the fabric roll and you sobbed. You let out a pathetic squeal that slowly built to a scream.
“Please, please, please!” You shouted. “Don’t do this!”
“Baby girl,” he hummed as he dragged his fingers over the blades. “I told you, you’re safe with me.”
He turned and his eyes roved over your body. He let out a thick breath and grabbed the bottom of his shirt. He pulled it over his head and let it heap on the floor. His gaze clung to you as he undid his belt and pushed his pants down. He forced his boots off as he stepped out of his jeans and his socks went with them. He undressed methodically, never looking away from you.
You grunted as you tried desperately to free yourself. This animal, this monster, was coming for you.
He went to the chest and slid a knife from the row. You bounced in frustration on the bed and shook your head. No, no, no, this couldn’t happen. His weight caused the bed to dip as he lowered himself between your legs. He looked up at you as he pressed the cold blade to your thigh. You squeaked and bit down.
“You see, if one doesn’t know what they’re doing then it’s difficult to know what cuts will kill and which won’t,” he slithered. “But if they do, they know how much pressure, what angle,” he pushed the point down and you felt it pierce your skin, “where to cut… just for a taste. That’s all.”
He sliced along your thigh, a shallow but painful cut. You cried out and he did the same to your other leg. Your feet arched as your muscles tensed and you pulled against the cuffs.
The warmth of your blood was met by the heat of his mouth. You gasped as lapped at the flow and smeared it over your skin as he edged closer to your cunt. You grasped at air as your fingers curled and uncurled. You let out pathetic noises as he pressed his thumb to the slice along your other thigh.
He purred as he brushed his tongue along your pussy. He pushed carefully between your folds and you gulped. The tingle it sent through you had your heart hammering. He spread his hand over your thigh and his other gripped your hip as his tongue teased you.
He sucked on your clit as his hand slipped further up. You pushed your head down into the mattress as you felt a storm of hot and cold fill your core. He needed to stop. He had to stop. You couldn’t feel like this. It was wrong. He trapped you, he cut you, and now he was toying with you.
He traced two fingers along the crease of your thighs and pushed against your entrance. You moaned and he dipped them inside slowly. He stretched you around his vibranium digits until his knuckles were pressed to your cunt. He curled his fingers and moved them in time with his tongue.
You bared your teeth as you tried to resist the instinctual response of your body. The way your core pulsed and buzzed without your consent. You whined as he brought you closer and closer to your peak. Between your mewls, one word was clear; ‘no, no, no.”
You went rigid as the waves rolled over you and your climax overwhelmed your fear. He urged you through it, his fingers working into you quickly as your sighs turned to sobs. He didn’t stop until you were shaking and wincing against his touch.
He raised his head and drew his fingers from inside you. You looked down at him, his beard and nose stained red. Your stomach flipped and your fear spiked once more. He took the knife from beside your leg and backed off the bed. His cock bobbed with each step as he went to the chest and unsheathed another blade.
He returned to you. This time he moved to straddle you as he turned the knife in his hand. He admired the sheen of the metal and poked your lips with the tip. He trailed over your chin and traced the line of your cheek. His blue eyes sparkled as he teased you.
“You’re beautiful…” he breathed, “I could never ruin that face.”
He brought the blade to your neck and lingered on the still tender flesh. He continued on to your chest and circled your nipples. His hand cupped one tit as the knife played with the other. He moved his hips and grinded against you.
He closed his eyes and took a breath. He hovered the knife below your clavicle and turned the tip to your skin. He split the flesh slowly along the centre of your chest, a red line rising between your breast. Again, it was shallow, enough to bleed, enough to make you sick.
He set the knife down on the mattress and his fingers crawled along the incision. Your torn skin stung at his touch and he bent over you. He traced the line with his tongue and lifted his head. He pressed his hot lips to yours and forced his tongue inside. You tasted the metallic taint of your own blood and groaned.
His chest rubbed against your and you felt the warmth as it spread across his skin. His hand felt around as he lifted his pelvis and moved his knee between your legs. He slickened his fingers with your blood and once more began to play with your cunt. You squirmed and tried to turn your head away from him. He bit down on your lip and shoved his fingers inside of you.
“Baby girl,” He drew away, “You’re ready for me.”
“No--” He pulled his fingers out of you and his hand came up to wrap around your neck and he shushed you once more.
His eyes bore into yours as he angled his hips. He shifted as his tip poked along your cunt. He slowly pressed against you until he slipped inside. You grunted and bit down on your lip. You shook your head as his hand grew tighter. He eased into you an inch at a time and your eyes rolled back as he reached his limit.
He sighed as he moved his thighs flush to yours. His heavy breaths filled your ears as he began to rock. He thrust into you carefully, relishing in each long stroke. He hummed as he kept a steady rhythm. You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to resist the burgeoning swell in your core.
He moved fast and pushed himself up, his hand still on your neck, nearly crushing your windpipe. His other hand stretched across the gash on your chest and he slammed into you harder and harder. The clap of his flesh echoed through the room as the blood from your thighs seeped onto his.
The bed quaked beneath your bodies as he pounded into you, his voice rising with each tilt of his hips. Your own breathy moans floated in the air and knotted in your chest.
“Baby girl,” he growled, “Fuck, you feel so good… you taste so good.”
He lifted his hand from your chest and you opened your eyes. He licked your blood from his hand, his left still firmly at your throat.
“You’re gonna look so pretty,” he touched the cut again and played with your blood. His chest was marked with red and it trickled down his muscled stomach as he hammered into you. “This is gonna be a pretty little mark, isn’t it?”
You gnashed your teeth and turned your head. You stared at the blank wall as your thighs tensed against his. You gasped as your orgasm rose violently and your body spasmed.
Bucky let go of your neck and grabbed the knife. Your eyes followed the blade and he pressed it along his chest and cut into his left peck. He stilled as the blood leaked from his flesh and he put the knife aside once more. He coated his fingers in his blood and wiped them across your lips. He forced his way inside your mouth and began to fuck you again.
He lowered himself over you. He slipped his fingers from your mouth and grabbed your chin. He kissed you deeply, tasting the mix of your blood. He pulled away as he began to pant and rutted into you without relent. He snarled and pressed his lips to your cheek.
“You feel that, baby girl,” he rasped, “Hmm, you’re going to make me cum. You want it inside of you?”
“Please--” you whispered.
“I’m gonna fill you up, baby girl. Over and over--” He jerked his hips with each word, “And over-- and over--”
He hissed and thrust into as deep as he could. He spasmed and rolled his hips as his cum spilled into you. He slowed and let his weight down onto you. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest and your own beat loudly in your ears.
“Over and over… baby girl,” he murmured and flinched. He slid his arm up under you and slowly moved his hips. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”
👁️
You were in a daze when Bucky finally untied you. He left you limp across the bed as he packed up the knives and locked them away. He sat lightly on the edge of the bed with a wet cloth and began to wipe away the blood from your cuts. You winced but only closed your eyes and waited for it to be over.
Your entire body hurt. You lost count of how many times he’d fucked you. He cut you again on your thighs and under your breasts. You were caked in your own blood and sweat. He washed you gently and you let him. You hoped he would go when he finished.
He stood and you heard the heavy lid of the chest again. He returned to you and wiped each cut; the alcohol tickled your nostrils and burned your skin. The bleeding had mostly stopped but he bandaged each carefully. The crumple of wrappers and the tinny clasp of metal. He rose again and the padlock was snapped shut.
“You have to keep yourself clean, baby girl,” he said. “I’ve left some bandages and wipes out for you. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you.”
You ignored him and rolled onto your side painfully. You shivered and hugged yourself. You’d wait for him to leave before you cried. You listened to him dress. He hadn’t cleaned himself up. Your blood was still smeared over his face.
“Good night, baby girl.” He looked at you for a moment. “Are you cold? Do you want a blanket?”
You didn’t answer and just stared at the wall.
“It’s okay, baby girl,” he cooed as his footsteps neared the door, “It’ll take some time… but we both felt how much you liked it.”
The door opened and clunked behind him. Your eyes pricked and you closed them as the tears began to fall. You grabbed the pillow and hugged it as your entire body was wracked with sobs.
You wished he had cut you deeper. You wished he had just killed you. There was no other way out.
Warnings: nonconsensual sex, death, murder, violence, stalking, paranoia, blood, gore, and other warnings to be added
This is dark!Bucky Barnes with a likelihood off dark!Steve Rogers as well and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Not everything is what it seems.
Note: I’m getting this chapter out before I’m clogged up with work. Y’all take care of yourselves and I hope you have a Happy Halloween.
Thank you. Love you guys!
As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3
Despite your agitation, your isolation slowly reinstilled a sense of stability in you. Even if you were trapped, even if you had little choice in being there, the cabin with the bullet proof windows and advanced security system calmed your wearing nerves. And without a phone, you could not be reminded of, or harassed by the faceless villain who had turned your life on its head.
The first day dragged by as you spent hours pacing in your room and tossing and turning on the mattress. Sure, you were annoyed with Bucky and his demands, his often mercurial moods, but you recalled Steve’s words and they abated your irritation. You could still be in your apartment, still be entirely clueless to your shadowy stalker, still be a sitting duck swimming through dark waters. But you were safe with two super soldiers, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.
Steve brought you a pre-packaged meal and you ate alone at the desk after trading him for your grocery list.
You stared out the window at the shedding trees and the frozen ground, the critters gathering what they could for their nests and burrows. The preserved potatoes were powdery and stuck to your tongue; the gravy lumpy and bland. You tossed the tray in the bin under the desk and rolled yourself in your covers.
That nail in your skull hadn’t quite relented yet and the knot in your stomach only wound tighter. You were still tender between your legs but the levee had yet to break. You laid awake through the night but for the few hours before sunrise. You awoke with stiff muscles and a heavy head. No longer a sharp pain at the top but a dull pulsing just above your neck.
You went back to the desk, wrapped in the quilt formerly folded over the end of the bed and slid open the drawer. You stirred through the hotel quality contents; cheap pens, a notepad, and a handful of mints. Odd but you supposed you weren’t the first occupants of the safe house.
You took out a blue pen and the pad of paper. You looked out the window and etched in ink the scene on the other side of the glass. You weren’t particularly skilled but the points of the tall pines and the sprawling arms of the walnut tree were simple enough. Little scribbles to show the twigs and pinecones at their feet. You blindly scratched the nib against the thin paper until you heard a knock at your door.
“You awake?” Bucky’s voice came clear through the door.
You put the pen down and cloaked yourself once more in the quilt as you stood. “Yeah,” you called back as you leaned against the edge of the desk. “What is it?”
Bucky carefully turned the handle and opened the door. He wore his high collared jacket with its chest pockets and two more lower down. His leather-sheathed knife hung from his belt, its tip poking out from beneath his coat, and he twisted a pair of gloves in his hands. He let the door fall completely open and lingered in the frame.
“I’m going into town. Steve will be here.” He said as his blue eyes bore into you. “You okay?”
You shrugged and pulled the blanket tighter around you.
“You want me to turn the heat up?” He asked. You didn’t answer. “Look, I’m sorry about last night. About being so blunt but you have to understand, you panicking isn’t helping anyone.”
“Why wouldn’t you at least tell me about something like that? About the drawings?” You snapped. “I have a right to know.”
He sniffed and let out a long breath. “You really don’t want to know everything. Alright. I was just coming to make sure your list was final. Anything I need to add?”
“Just sweeping it aside? Just like that?”
“Honey, you don’t need to worry about this creep. Me and Steve will. You just need to be patient,” He neared you with decisive steps, “And listen to us. We’re your lifeline, it’s about time you start using it.”
“Don’t.” You huffed. “Don’t call me ‘honey’.”
He tilted his head and his eyes sparked. His lips curved slightly as he considered you.
“Sorry,” he said rigidly. “I guess… I didn’t realise I was doing that.”
You watched him as he pulled on his gloves and bent his fingers, flexing his hands as he pushed his shoulders back.
“So, I don’t need to grab anything else while I’m out?” He prodded. “You got enough clothes--”
“Yeah,” you said sharply, “I should be fine. I’d say that list is the least of my worries.”
He smiled and scoffed. “Alright, h-- You need anything, you let Steve know. He’s downstairs trying to figure out breakfast.”
You nodded as he stared at you. He rubbed his hands together and backed away. He turned and stopped at the door.
“If you really want the truth,” he looked over his shoulder, “He killed again. Two girls in as many nights…” He shook his head and tutted. “He seems pretty desperate. It’s a good thing you’re here. With us.” He stepped out into the hall and you barely heard his last word. “Safe.”
👁️
You found Steve in the kitchen grimacing at a bag of oats. His hair was slightly askew and he wore a sweatshirt which would be loose on any other man but clung to his broad chest and thick arms. His blue eyes bore a semblance of fatigue and he looked up as you neared the other side of the long walnut island.
“There’s coffee,” he smiled. “Do you like oatmeal?”
“It will do,” you climbed up on a stool and bent your arms over the counter. “Bucky gone?”
“Yeah,” Steve set down the bag and turned to the cupboard. He pulled out a metal mug in the military style and filled it with coffee from the pot. He slid it over to you. “You like sugar? Cream? Because we have neither.”
“I’m fine,” you chuckled. “So… is this something you do a lot?”
“What? Make coffee?” He asked as he bent and searched the cupboards.
“No, whatever it is we’re doing here. Hiding?”
“I’ve been sent on protective missions before,” he stood and clunked a pot on the counter. “Can’t say it’s ever been this… intense. Usually political,” he opened the bag of oats and poured them into the pot, “Escort from point A to B. Nothing overly complicated.”
“So why exactly has S.H.I.E.L.D. taken the lead and not the FBI?”
He looked at you and raised his brows. He turned to add water to the pot and placed it on the stove. He turned the dial and spun back to you.
“If I tell you, you can’t let on to Bucky that you know.” He warned as he neared the island. “I mean it. I really shouldn’t. He’s right, you know? The less you know, the better.”
“Tell me. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” You urged. “Please.”
He sighed and pushed back his blonde hair. His short stubble caught the light as he dropped his arms.
“We have reason, strong reason, to believe that this… guy has ties to an association known as HYDRA. An organization which has been working to undermine democratic peace for decades.” Steve lowered his voice as he leaned across the countertop. “The hotel room that was… an unexpected and uncharacteristic slip-up. Before, he was stealthy, smart, we were barely able to string it all together. He was all over the city. But… I’m starting to think that it’s all deliberate on his part. He wants to distract us with the overwhelming evidence so that we make a real mistake.”
“But why-- Why would an operative want anything to do with me?”
“Oh, well, we don’t think he’s with HYDRA anymore and that makes him even more dangerous. He’s taken everything they taught him, all the evil they instilled in him, and now he’s working for his own agenda.”
Steve searched your face, “Why he chose you; who knows? Maybe you said ‘hi’ to him and he liked the way it sounded or maybe it’s entirely at random. The FBI handed this case over because they can’t figure him out and I gotta be honest, we’re not any closer than they were. The only upper hand we have is that Bucky saw him. That’s it. We don’t have a name or anything else. Just a face and there are an awful lot of those in New York.”
You trembled and ran your fingertips down your cheeks. You gulped as you sat up and your eyes threatened to well.
“Thanks for telling me.” You whispered.
“Right, but I need a favour in return.” He said.
“What?”
“Stop snooping around. We’re all stuck in here for a while. It doesn’t help anyone, especially not Bucky. He’s just trying to do his job and he’s already had to call in back-up. He’s feeling beat up right now.” Steve explained. “Besides, you really can’t give him a hard time after he got all bloodied up for you.”
“I… I’m sorry. I’m just scared.” You muttered, “I’ll cool it. Okay?”
He smiled and turned back to the stove. He grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred the oats. He swore under his breath.
“I really hope you’re a good cook because we’re all gonna be miserable if I’m in charge.” He tutted at the steaming pot. “Or at least, half-starved.”
👁️
“So we ended up getting lost on the beach,” Steve hit his empty bowl with his elbow as he talked. “And the bozo says he’s gonna get seasick. On land!”
You laughed as Steve’s eyes twinkled but quickly stopped as you heard the beep from the front door. It opened and closed, followed by the tap of fingertips on the panel. You looked over your shoulder as Bucky entered. You hadn’t realised how long you and Steve had been talking. A couple hours even after finishing the chewy porridge.
“There’s more in the car,” Bucky crossed to the island and plunked two bags on it.
“Oh, I’ll help,” you slid off the stool and Bucky caught your shoulder.
“You should stay inside,” Bucky said, “Steve.”
“Alright.” Steve rolled his eyes.
“I’ll clean up in here,” you offered.
“Don’t you dare,” Steve warned as he rounded the counter. “But since you promised to cook tonight I’ll be more than happy to let you do so then.”
“Deal,” you said and watched him pass into the hallway.
Bucky’s hand slipped from your shoulder and he gripped the lip of the counter. “You two get along.”
“Figure I should try, considering,” you moved so that the stool was between you.
“It’s gonna start snowing soon.” He said awkwardly. “Calling for a storm next week. Could be snowed in here.”
“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” you said.
“Maybe,” he reached into one of the bags as he spoke, “I got you this.” He pulled out a bottle of red, “Figured I might as well.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to but… thanks,” you tried to smile. You heard Steve behind you and Bucky’s jaw squared as he looked over your shoulder. “At least let me help unpack.” You insisted as Steve placed the bags beside the others. “I mean, it’ll be something to keep me busy.”
“Twist my arm,” Steve said, “Alright, I’ll get the dishes and you started putting all this away. Bucky, do you mind helping?”
Bucky nodded and blinked slowly. “Any coffee left?” He asked.
“I’ll make a fresh pot,” Steve said as he gathered up the bowls, “But I wouldn’t recommend my oatmeal. There’s probably something better hidden in those bags.”
“Yeah, I’m good,” Bucky muttered, “It was a long ride.”
👁️
You decided that while you weren’t in control, it didn’t mean you were helpless. It only meant that you needed to let those who knew what they were doing take care of it. Bucky and Steve had years of experience in security and combat. You were just a secretary scared for her life. You had no idea what to do or what you were doing.
After the first couple days, it grew easier. You grew comfortable but not complacent. The few times of day you could cook kept you busy enough to distract you. Steve and Bucky were easier to be around as you grew used to them, even just used to having others in your living space. Mostly, you kept to yourself but managed some decent conversation when you ate or stumbled upon each other in the cabin.
It was quiet and you were bored. Again. There were a few books you'd found to read and your doodles had grown frustrating. You decided to take a shower and try to relax. Your isolation made you restless and your restlessness made you think of why you were hidden away in the middle of nowhere.
You locked the door behind you and hung your towel. To your surprise, Bucky had managed to pick out the exact soap you used. You couldn't recall if you'd been finicky enough to have written it on the list. You stretched and undressed. You still didn't sleep very well but it wasn't as if you did very much either.
You stepped under the showerhead as the pipes whined. In the evening, if your keepers were busy, you'd read by the woodstove. The smell was calming and the crackle filled the dead air. Maybe after you would sneak down and try to warm up in front of the fire.
The shower fogged up and you closed your eyes as you scrubbed your body. The smell was reassuring. It reminded you of when your life was normal. It made you think that maybe you could go back to before. That this might end and you might be free to live again.
You let out a breath and cranked the shower off. You pulled back the curtain as the steam cleared and you patted your skin dry before wrapping yourself in the towel. As you picked up your clothes, you froze. You stood and neared the door. Had you not locked it?
It was half-open and let in a draft from the hallway. You poked your head out and peered up and down the hall. Nothing, no one. Well, you were careless, you could've left it unlocked, not pushed it enough for it to catch.
You tiptoed across the hall to your room and pulled the door shut. This time you made sure it was closed though there was no lock on it. You tossed your clothes on the bed and pulled out a new set. Loose sweatpants and a cotton shirt. You needed to do laundry already. Well, another task to keep you occupied.
You pulled on some socks and crept out into the hall. You descended the stairs and listened for any sign of disturbance. Usually the men worked in the dining room or in the small office on the other side of the stairs.
You got to the bottom of the stairs and neared the front door. You looked out at the grey forest. It was supposed to snow that night, that's what Bucky declared at breakfast. You grasped the handle but it would not turn. You reached to the panel just beside you but it rejected your fingerprint with a loud beep.
"Going somewhere?" Bucky asked and you spun to face him, startled.
"No, I just… haven't been outside and I just wanted to… smell the air. I guess that's, uh, weird." You rubbed your hands together.
"It's freezing. You can't go out like that."
You stared at him. "But can I… go out?"
His blue eyes clung to you and his long lashes flicked. He lifted his brow and stepped closer. He stopped and slid your boots over to you with his foot.
"Stay close," he grabbed his coat, "And wear a hat."
He handed you a wool beanie from his coat pocket before he pulled the ends of his hair from beneath his collar. You took your coat, in slight disbelief, and smiled.
"You sure it's okay?"
"Well, you shouldn't be pent up in here for so long and once it snows, you won't wanna go out much at all."
He opened the door as you tucked your hands into your gloves. You stepped out and he followed you closely as the door clicked shut behind him. You tramped down the steps and bounced on your heels at the bottom. It smelled like pine and cold.
Bucky walked evenly across the clearing and you trailed behind him as he neared the trees. He stopped and waited for you to catch up. He waved you ahead of him. "Just follow the path."
He wasn't far behind as you did as he said, the path winding between trees and petering out before a frosty brook that would freeze over with the first snowfall. Your teeth chattered as the looming winter nipped through your layers. You were quiet as you bent to pick up a pinecone and admire its scales.
You felt Bucky watching you as you turned back and walked around the small clearing amidst the trees.
"Hey," you faced him and tossed the pinecone away, "I'm sorry I was so… contrary. I was afraid."
"It's fine," he shooed away your apology with his hand, "I've dealt with worse."
"Sure but… I owe you a thank you, too. You saved me. More than once. And I know I wouldn't be alive without you. So thanks. Really. And… I am trying. I trust you. I know you're going to get this guy."
He gave a small smile and kicked a stone as he came closer. "Well, let me just say, this is one of the only jobs I've been assigned that hasn't been a complete pain in the ass."
You scoffed and resisted your urge to back away from him. "Flattering, really."
"Twenty minutes," he said, "Then we gotta go back… before Steve notices and gets worried. Or worse, he'll think we left him out of some fun."
"Ah," you snorted, "Yeah, wouldn't want him to think that."
👁️
Another day and then another. Time fell as lackadaisical as the snow. At first, it had been a storm but it had slowed to a powdery lull. Neither Steve nor Bucky spoke of the killer and you didn’t dare to ask. What good would it do you to know he had killed another? Or that some other grisly piece of art had been found? Ignorance was bliss or at least solace.
You found yourself moving from room to room. First, your bedroom, then the kitchen for a cup of tea, the living room to feed the stove and watch it burn, and then back upstairs. You ran into Steve on your way up. He seemed distracted if not a bit perturbed. You noticed that in the last day he and Bucky had been quiet. More so than usual.
You continued up to your room and opened your current read; a classic you refused to read in high school and opted for the Sparknotes instead. You laid on your bed, one leg bent under the other as you swayed back and forth. The words didn’t stick in your mind and you found yourself rereading the same page until you clapped the book shut and snarled.
You sat up and tapped your foot on the floor. You heard voices, muffled by your door. You eked it open and slowly approached the top of the stairs. You listened as the argument came clearer.
“Goddamn it, Bucky, after everything I’ve done for you. What the fuck are we here for? Well, what am I here for?” Steve growled.
“Stop yelling, alright.” Bucky snipped. “Have a little fucking patience. You know this hasn’t been easy.” You heard something slam but couldn’t guess at what. “Don’t fucking blow it. Shut up and have a little faith in me.”
There was grumbling but nothing more as a door closed and blocked out the voices entirely. You felt that heat along the back of your neck. The sudden burst of instinctual fear that nestled along your shoulders. The goosebumps that told you that not all was as it seemed. The creeping, inescapable sensation which had lingered for weeks now.
You pushed yourself up to your feet and headed back to your room. It was a stressful mission, you couldn’t blame the two for getting frustrated. That must have been what it was. They were anxious to get this guy and be onto their next mission. You doubted it was their ideal job to be locked away in the snow.
You stopped as your hand fell to your door handle and you peered down the hall into Bucky’s room. The door was mostly open, only a slight angle blocking out part of the room. Slowly, you dragged your hand away from the knob and felt along the wall as you continued down the hall.
His bed was unmade, the pillows strewn about, and a familiar patch of fabric stuck out from beneath one of them. You glanced behind you and took a breath. You took a step inside and waited as if testing it. Would he know? He seemed to know everything.
You placed one foot in front of the other as softly as you could. You leaned a knee against the mattress and reached beneath the pillow. You lifted up your panties and blanched at the little daisies speckles along the cotton. You’d gone all week without a pair, the mystery of their disappearance forgotten as your own carelessness. You mouthed ‘what the fuck’ as you dropped them back to the bed.
You turned around and went to the tall dresser near the closet. You inched the top drawer open; the rest of your panties bunched up with his briefs. The pink pair with the hearts you didn’t dare to touch as dried white strings stained the lacy edge. You slid the drawer shut and gasped as you were suffocated by your shock.
You spun around and peeked out the open door. You heard nothing but the winter gales outside. You rounded the bed and went to the table in the corner; a monitor, a mouse, a keyboard, stacks of folders and papers.
Your fingers shook as you took your wallet from the mess and opened it up. Your cards, your IDs, and even the cash remained within. You put it back and took the envelope that was hidden beneath it. You opened it and flipped through its contents; your college ID from years ago, the one you got replaced after presumably dropping it in the library, your graduation photo, pictures of your family and you… all things you’d thought you lost.
You replaced the envelope and lifted the top of a file. The same drawing as before and several more, each one bloodier, more gruesome than the last until the final one. A metal arm around your neck…
Your hand hit the mouse as you retracted it in disgust and the monitor lit up. The sudden glare stung your eyes. A dozen different frames across the screen; each one a room in the house, including yours and even one in the shower. Bucky and Steve were in the office, deep in conversation.
You let out a shuddered breath as tears pricked.
You moved the mouse slowly and clicked on the file explorer. Folders sorted by date and then another simply labelled with your street name. You hesitated before you selected it. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of video files sorted by date. You bent closer as you clicked on the last day.
You hit double speed as your empty apartment greeted you. Then you came home, poured your wine, then Bucky arrived, you ordered food… You slowed down the footage as you slumped against the arm of the couch. The wine and the terror of that video call had left you senseless.
Bucky stood and pulled you down to lay across the couch. He backed up and watched you for a while then neared you again. You watched in horror as he bent over you and rolled your pants down. He climbed between your legs and buried his head between them. He shoved his metal hand beneath his mouth and your entire body jolted as he fingered.
You gasped as he finished and pulled your pants back up. Then he stood near you and used your hand to pleasure himself. You exited out of the window before your stomach turned entirely. You stood as you looked to the live feed. The office was empty.
You were suddenly pulled back as a rope wrapped around your neck. You kicked out as you were strangled, a figure flush against your back. You flailed and grabbed at the robe as you were shoved towards the bed. The body fell down onto you and the rope tightened.
“Baby girl,” Bucky’s voice slithered in your ear, “It didn’t have to be like this.”
