Hi babyyyy. Congrats on the followers! I have a drabble request. How about Winter Soldier!Bucky being given a pet while in Hydra due to him listening to his orders and he decides to mark her with his knife. Could be his initials or perhaps something in Russian. Arm, leg, chest, anywhere he wants to make it known that she is his 💖
The Deep, The Dark
Pairings: Winter Soldier x Reader
Warnings: knife play, Hydra being trash, allusions to assault, dark!fic (due to overall subject matter), soft!dark Winter Soldier (he's going through a lot), pet play
Word Count: 1.5k
This is a dark fic. 18+ only.
A/N: sorry this took me so long to do. was part of my 1k follower celebration that has long finished haha. thank you for your patience. gif by me aka @steve-kemp
Pain. A novel concept. Not one that the Soldat was afforded while being Hydra’s fist.
But as he made his way back to base, the Soldat couldn’t help but feel the ache that was blooming in his side where a bullet had grazed his skin in a clean slice.
He was becoming self-aware, emotional indifference dissipating.
Recalibration required. Asset malfunctioning.
The Soldat continued to do as he was told.
He didn’t know why; he didn’t know many things.
Whenever he tried to think any different, his brain went fuzzy with a sharp sparking pain, a cinder burning in the back of his mind that distracted him from any natural function.
“Put his brain back in the blender.”
“Compliance will be rewarded.”
“Take it deeper, Asset.”
“Be good, and we’ll give you a gift.”
His Handlers said things he didn’t understand. But weapons didn’t need to understand. They just need to point and shoot. Slash and stab. Sit and take whatever was given to them.
His legs moved of their own volition, muscle memory leading him to the same room he always went to after an assignment.
The Soldat stared at the greyed concrete wall of the debriefing room as if it would grow a face and begin speaking to him. For some reason, he imagined the face to have blonde hair and a warm smile.
Another successful mission.
Another evening of watching the paint peel from the wall, decaying like his mind as his body began to heal the damage done during the mission and his last wipe.
Thoughts were starting to come back. And that meant he was going back in the chair.
The Soldat shivered at the blazing memory, as if the electricity was coursing through him already.
He didn’t want to be put back in the chair.
Want? The Soldat wasn’t meant to want. Weapons don’t get to want things.
“Mission report,” his Handler, the man he knew as Rumlow, commanded.
“Hey Rumlow, want to see the new trick I taught the Asset?”
As his Handler flipped through his case notes, he failed to notice the wildness in the eyes of the man before him as the Soldat spiralled deeper.
He felt as if he was falling into a desolate dark pit, spirits flowing past him, each providing him with a reminiscence or thought he didn’t understand. There were faces he didn’t recognise, landscapes he didn’t remember.
“You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?”
The Asset exhaled, swallowing the bile rising in his throat as he desperately tried to ground himself. It was all too much. Too many memories. Too many people speaking words he didn’t understand.
“Target eliminated near Odessa. Nil civilian casualties. One possible hostile fled, not mission critical. Minor injury sustained. Asset still in working condition.” The Soldat’s words sounded stunted, practised. Because they were.
But his Handler could hear it. The slight waver to his voice. The pitch a little too high.
His Handler sighed, closing the manila folder before crossing his arms.
“Rollins, get him wiped.”
When the Asset was returned to his cell, it had changed.
Instead of a small cot, there was a proper bed and a set of clothes and towels. It was still cold, dark and damp, but it was improved.
The Soldat walked in hesitantly, unsure why he had been given something different. He didn’t remember it being like this, not that he could remember much. But he knew that Hydra did not give without an ulterior motive.
As he breached the threshold of the room, a soft floral scent entered his senses, a sniffle sounding from the corner of the room.
The Asset’s gaze turned to the girl hiding in the corner, frame curled up in the low light. She was shivering from the cold, the concrete walls and floor icy.
Civilian. Nil threat. Do not terminate.
“A pet for you, Asset. A gift from the Director for your compliance and another successful mission, an incentive to continue doing well.”
The Soldat blinked. He’d done a mission? Everything before the chair was like static on a… well, he didn’t know what made static, but something told him that electronics did.
“Wouldn’t it be cool if we could afford a television, Buck?”
“Keep dreamin’, punk.”
The Asset watched the girls form, studying her as her eyes met his. She looked at him as if he was the grim reaper, metal arm glinting in the light, matted hair shadowing his features as his body was clad in leather and kevlar.
With slow steps he approached her, ignoring her whimpers as he neared her. It was evident to the Asset the girl had not been well taken care of, a prisoner, much like himself. Bruises littered her body, and there were noticeable marks from where blood had been constantly drawn.
“You should be glad you’re worth more than a lab rat, Asset.”
He stopped a few steps away, squatting down to look at her properly.
She was undeniably stunning, and there was something about her that felt homely, comforting. Something the Asset hadn’t felt in a very long time.
The Asset’s head tilted to the side, brows furrowing slightly. Her appearance alone was like sunshine and birdsong, but the little sounds she made him want to touch her even more.
His hands had been used for blood and gore for so long it was almost foreign that there was anything else he could experience.
Cautiously, as if a child unsure, the Asset reached out and ran his flesh fingers over the skin of her arm.
Soft.
As if she was no more than a doll.
“Are you going to kill me?”
Her voice was meek and weak, the picture of pureness. She almost sounded hopeful. The Asset’s expression hardened as consideration flowed through him.
This girl was his pet. And pets need to be looked after, protected. He would never kill his pet.
Without answering her question, the Asset picked her up with ease, ignoring her protesting squeaks as he took her to the bed.
He liked that she didn’t fight him, her will already broken by Hydra.
She felt warm against his chest, and it made something shift in the Soldat’s mind.
It was as if his limbs moved on his own as he placed her down, delicate fingers running over her body as he explored her. Tears were running down her cheeks now as she closed her eyes, but the Asset didn’t pay much attention to it as he just felt her.
It has been so long since he’d been near another living human being, one that he didn’t have to kill. She would stay warm; he would make sure of it. The Asset didn’t like cold things.
His fingers stopped on her left arm, looking at the unmarred skin where in comparison his adorned a large red star.
The red star meant he was owned, a ghost in the machine that was Hydra.
And so, if he owned her, should she not have her own version?
Deft fingers pulled his ka-bar knife from its holster, the Asset’s eyes not leaving the skin of the girl’s arm as he twirled it between his fingers instinctually.
The pet’s sniffles turned into hiccupped sobs as the Asset brought the knife to her arm, her body trembling his hold.
But even with her slight convulsions, the Asset easily gripped her arm with his metal hand, stabilising her as he prepared for his next mission.
A mission he was choosing for himself.
The screaming started as soon as the Asset brought the knife to her skin, using clinical precision to skilfully carve lettering into his pet’s arm, movements not shaking or faltering for a second.
It was over as soon as it started, blood trickling down onto the bed as the Asset pulled away, content with his work.
The girl looked at her arm, gasping as she looked at the way ‘Солдат’ had been marked into her skin. Her body was branded with an ownership that ran deep, an inescapable bond.
But as the Asset looked at her, despite her tears, she didn’t seem afraid of him. There was an understanding in her eyes when she looked at him, cheeks shining with the wetness of initial anguish.
If the Asset didn’t know any better, he would have thought he was happy to have her there. But the Asset knew that happiness came at a price he couldn’t afford.
Happiness required freedom, something he knew he would never have.
But at least he had something of his own now. A pet to bring him comfort.
The Asset wrapped his arms around her, lying down so she could nuzzle her face into his chest. It was a perfect fit, as if it was meant to be.
He knew she would be in pain. He was too. But in that moment, it was serene.
The silence was broken as the Asset spoke unprompted for the first time in years.
“Teper' ty moy shchenochek.”
Now you are my puppy.
The Asset didn’t feel alone anymore.
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