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[deaddovedec]

In the Dark, I Like to Read His Mind (but I’m Frightened of the Things I Might Find)

Read on Ao3 and Squidge

Fandom: MCU

Pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

Rating: E / NC-17

A/N: A dark medieval romance set in a fantastical realm!

Tags: Age Gap, Alternate Universe - Dark Fantasy, Creature Feature, Medieval Era, Non Con, Painful Sex, Underage

Teaser

Summary

James Buchanan is sixteen when his life falls apart. He is betrothed to Lord Broq Rumlow of Drakestone, a noble in King Alecsander’s court. After a barbaric rite is gifted to his new husband during their wedding reception, James' plight seemingly goes from bad to worse.

Chapter 1: A Duty to the Crown

Bingos and Events:

@anyfandomdarkbingo - Feminization

@badthingshappenbingo - Nonconsensual Touching

@buckybarnesevents

Build-a-Bucky Bingo: January - Wet & Messy Hot Bucky Summer 2024: Week 6 - Sex Pollen

@darkspicyevanstan - Quadruple Challenge Mode

Fusion AU + Unseelie + Historical Fantasy Fiction + Arranged Marriage

@deaddovedec 2023 - Week 1: Day 7 - First Night

@deaddovekink - Malewife Mayhem: Day 9 - Prima Nocta

Degeneracy Week - Day 2: Underaged

@julybreakbingo - Dark Fantasy AU + Fae AU + High Fantasy AU + Kink: Size Difference

@secretcrypticevents

Into the Wilds Bingo: Unseelie Into the Wilds Flash: Medieval AU + Fae + Prima Nocta

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WE LOVE IT SO MUCH

Thank you for participating ❤️

Dead Dove December Masterlist

"Stocking" Stalking/Trapped Hail Hydra - Chapter One. Sergeant James Buchannan 'Bucky' Barnes falls from a train in the Alps, and frequently wishes he'd not defied all logic and survived. CW: canon-typical violence, falling from a significant height, forced amputation, poor medical treatment, sickness, infection, possible paranoia/delusion.

Heartwarming/Hidden Hail Hydra - Chapter Two. Bucky’s captors leave their prisoner to fight through his illness. CW: sickness, overeating, paranoia, imprisonment, poor treatment of POWs, infection.

Ice Skating (Screaming)/Nutcracker/Home Hail Hydra - Chapter Three. When Sergeant Barnes starts to recover from his illness, he’s given other things to worry about. CW: illness recovery, temperature torture, hypothermia, loss of consciousness.

Curse/Captivity Hail Hydra - Chapter Four. Bucky is warmed up... A little too much. CW: Restraint, branding, threats of violence, temperature torture.

Jolly/Jugular Hail Hydra - Chapter Five. The torture turns violent, and Bucky struggles to cope. CW: Stab wound, shock collar, humiliation, forced nudity.

Blood in the Snow/No Strings Attached Hail Hydra - Chapter Six. Bucky seeks comfort. CW: Flashbacks (including forced amputation and brief body gore), Nightmares, T-rated smuttiness.

Giving Back/First Night/Tis the Season Hail Hydra - Chapter Seven. Bucky gives rebellion another go – and his only comfort is taken from him. CW: Canon-typical violence, neglect, locked outside in the cold, homophobia, shock collar, cliffhanger.

Mistletoe Madness/Stress Free (Stress Position) Hail Hydra - Chapter Eight. Aleksi’s torture reaches its finale, and Bucky gets put in isolation. CW: Canon-typical violence, submission to save another, stress position, reluctant whimper, physiological distress, emotional distress, lashing.

The Gift of Gunpoint (Alternate) Hail Hydra - Chapter Nine. Things begin to reach their climax, and an announcement reaches the Soviet compound. CW: Forced to kill; death of PoWs; mentions of torture, neglect and abuse; gun violence.

Cold as Ice/Secret Surprise On The Tides - Chapter Three. Bucky Barnes x Original Male Character. The Captain is a reluctant caretaker, looking after a needy newbie who is under the weather and desperate for affection and comfort. CW: brief discussion of traumatic, historical injury; sickness (non-vomiting).

Unexpected Gift (Best/Worst)/Lost Hail Hydra - Chapter Ten. Bucky is sought out, and he receives a gift from his new captors. CW: Nightmares, blood, death of a whumper.

Candy Cane/Candlelight/"The Light Goes Out" Silver & Gold - Chapter Five. Natasha Romanoff (ish) x Original Male Character. Silver and Gold go ice-skating, and a storm blows out their power. Even obstacles can be fun when you face them together. CW: Implied Smut, Self-image issues.

Alright, this is how far I got before realising the challenge is closed aohwdaiwh This was so much fun! Definitely need to plan my time better and do it again next year <3

@deaddovedec

[deaddovedec]

Silver & Gold - Chapter Five

CW: Implied Smut, self-image issues Prompts fulfilled; ‘Fireplace’, October 26th Prompt – @flufftober; ‘Candlelight’, December 12th Prompt – @deaddovedec; ‘Touch Starved’, December 12th Prompt – @whumpcember; ‘Mistletoe’ and ‘Twinkle Light Sexytimes’ – The Woods Are Lovely, Dark and Deep (@darcylewisbingohq); ‘Ice Skating’ - @sweetspicybingo - Blackout! Masterlist can be found here. ‘Pressing Foreheads Together’ – Winter Wonderland Bingo (@seasonaldelightsbingo).

Silver and Gold go ice-skating, and a storm blows out their power. Even obstacles can be fun when you face them together. Cards below! Check it out on AO3 here, or below the KR!

My hands shook nervously as he tested the ice, diligent as ever when it came to my safety. “You’ve really never done this before?” he asked again, hopping timidly, making me laugh as his feet skittered nervously. “Never… And you’re not making it look especially tempting!” I added, earning a broad grin as he approached me, hand extended. “It’s fun, I promise! And the ice is plenty thick enough – though the pond is only about a foot deep anyway, but I wouldn’t want those talented feet to get chilly!” I sighed good-naturedly as he pulled me to my feet, wobbling like a newborn fawn while he pulled me against his chest. He’d made the same point about keeping my feet warm when he’d carefully slid my toes into woolly socks, peppering my calves in gentle kisses. I loved his devoted appreciation, especially when it came to my dancing; I’d spent far too much of my life terrified to as much as tap a toe for fear of summoning a spectre of my past. We’d lain in bed that morning, my chin resting gently on his chest, and I’d mused aloud about where I’d find the space to dance, earning a broad smile and a playful wink from my soldier, refusing to share any details until I was up, dressed, fed and out of the house. “I think you’ll love dancing on the ice,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to mine as he lead me tentatively onto the ice. My knees trembled nervously, but his arms were strong and safe around me, holding me steady even as my legs threatened to slide in opposite directions. He pressed a tender kiss to my cheek, shifting away slightly to meet my gaze with a soft smile. His fingers laced tightly with my own, the metal cool despite my gloves, guiding me further out over the rough ice with delight evident in his grey eyes. “It’s… A little like the studio…” I mused uncertainly, allowing my feet to slide forward under their own power slightly rather than his. “Though much more slippery…” He snorted softly, pulling me a little closer once more, his hands finding my waist as he kissed me gently. “Yeah, it might take a little getting used to, but I think you’ll enjoy it with a little practice – if you’re interested?” he added quickly, brow furrowing with concern and earning a laugh for his troubles. My own arms draped around his neck, holding him close against me. The first time we’d danced together, he’d been notably uncomfortable, acquiescing only for my joy. But now we moved in perfect synchronicity, my expertise mitigated by my inexperience on the ice, and the lessons I’d lovingly given him over the years providing us with more equal footing. I squealed and giggled as he span me, revelling in the way the skates allowed me to swirl with seemingly no friction – round and round in an endless spiral until he pulled me back to his chest, beaming. “Well?” My mouth found his to kiss him deeply, soft, happy sounds radiating from my chest. “I love you.”

By the time we stumbled back to the house as the snow fell harder, my legs shaking with fatigue and cold, I was flushed and joyful. He’d been right, of course – it was all too easy to see how I could fall further in love with dance with ice beneath my feet. We shivered as we stepped inside, skates left dripping by the front door, my hand fumbling for the light, frowning when flipping it had no effect. “… Huh.” Yoshitsune reached around me to repeat the motion, making me smile, and letting out a soft huff of his own. “Power’s out… I guess we’ve got a storm coming. That’s what we get for being in the middle of nowhere…” He hummed under his breath as he rooted in the low table in the half-light, chuckling quietly. “Luckily, I’m prepared.” The match flared to life, casting captivating shadows over his face as he lit a broad candle, offering it to me with a lopsided grin. “Could you come and hold this for me? The heat’s out, so I’ll get a fire going – can’t have my little ballerina catching a cold.” I padded behind him obediently, mesmerised by the way the flickering light reflected in dazzling arrays across his arms as he shrugged off his jacket. “… You’re so beautiful,” I murmured, unable to keep myself from reaching out to brush my fingertips across the shining surface. His jaw twitched self-consciously, embarrassed by my praise and making  me grin. “I’m glad you think so,” he replied, voice unusually soft as he knelt. My heart ached for him; he’d told me before that not everyone loved, or even appreciated, the body he now found himself with, and it baffled and saddened me each time I thought of it. I squatted beside him, leaning carefully against his side with the candle held away carefully, my free hand wrapped around his bicep protectively. “Of course I do,” I breathed, kissing his cheek softly. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He did his equivalent to blushing, his jaw tightening minutely, lashes lowering as he fiddled with the kindling. “… I had quite a high impression of myself, once. I knew I turned heads – hell, I know I still do. But sometimes it doesn’t feel like it’s for the right reasons.” The fire roared to life, and his face turned to mine, eyes widening in panic as he found the tears pooled along my lash line, his fingertips trailing my cheek. I brushed the offending sight away in mild annoyance – it wasn’t my thing to be sad over, after all. My lips found his, firm and devoted, my hands wrapped around his biceps pointedly. “I think you’re gorgeous, Yoshitsune. I have a hard time taking my eyes off you, and keeping my hands off you… And every time a minute goes by without you touching me I feel starved.” His smile tipped up on one side, easy and loving. “Oh? It’s that bad, is it?” With a quick nod, I scrambled onto his lap, his hands only too eager to find my waist and shift me closer. “It’s torture, Silver.” One eyebrow arched, and he reached into his jacket with a grin. “I’m a little sad I didn’t put this up, then…” The fire reflected ephemerally on the metal as he uncurled his fingers, a perfect little sprig of mistletoe nestled in his palm. Beaming, I reached out to hold it over our heads, then hummed thoughtfully. “You never need a reason to kiss me, Yoshitsune. I can’t get enough of you.” No sooner had I finished the sentence than I was pinned to the carpet, his mouth on mine, hungrily tugging my lip between his teeth as his fingers tightened on my hips. My head fell back with a soft sigh of contentment as he shifted to my throat, hands moving automatically to pull his shirt over his head, the twinkling lights of fire and candle sending flickering shadows over flesh and metal. “Beautiful,” I breathed, pulling his head up to mine once more with a quiet, needy whimper.

[deaddovedec]

On The Tide - Chapter Three

The Captain is a reluctant caretaker, looking after a needy newbie who is under the weather and desperate for affection and comfort. Prompts met; '25. Nook' - @flufftober; '10. Cold as Ice/Secret Surprise' - @deaddovedec; '10. Freezing' - @whumpcember; 'The Caretaker' - @multifandom-flash (Double); 'Turned to Ice (Alternate) - Winter Wonderland Bingo (@seasonaldelightsbingo); 'Stop Pretending' - @fandom-free-bingo (Frosty Edition); 'Covered With [Insert]' - Fandom-Free Bingo (Frosty Edition) CW: brief discussion of traumatic, historical injury; sickness (non-vomiting).

Boards below the KR. Check the first section out below, or the full chapter on AO3 here!

I woke slowly to the sunlight shifting across my face, causing an irregular flickering that was disarmingly charming. With a soft sigh and a long stretch, I buried my face in the pillow beneath my cheek, inhaling the scent of salt and sweat, masculine and – to my mortification – more than a little arousing. I wonder how weird it would be for me to- “Good morning, soldier.” I sat up with a jerk, wincing at a pain radiating across my nose and cheeks, instantly aware of the throbbing, blocked sensation made worse from my movement. The Captain was nestled in a nook in front of the window, his eyes lowered to a book propped in one hand, the other draped casually over a bent knee. “I-I, uh… Hi. Sorry, Si- Captain. Lieutenant Tyne. Did I oversleep?” My voice was thick and muffled to my own ears, and his dark gaze rose at last, one eyebrow arching. “…Two days in, and you’ve already managed to throw up, and now come down with a cold?” he clarified incredulously, carefully marking his page and placing his book beside him. “As I always say… You Army boys are soft.” “Don’t be mean, I’m sick,” I whined, flopping back against the sheets dramatically. Distantly, I was mildly ashamed of myself, acting so fragile in the presence of a superior officer – but this wasn’t the service, and I was allowed to be more than a mindless, perfect weapon here. I was allowed to be sulky and sick – even if it wasn’t exactly ideal so early in my tenure. Sighing quietly, he moved to sit beside me, frowning when I flinched as his hand approached my forehead. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he scoffed, affronted. “I’m checking if you’re warm.” “I’m freezing,” I griped, unable to keep myself from leaning into his touch just a little as his palm met my skin. “I’m turning to ice over here!” “I don’t know what you expect me to do about it!” he snorted, drawing his hand back. “You have a fever. You need rest, and fluids, and a few days off work. Really pulling your weight so far, aren’t you?” I opened my mouth to snap a response, but his theatrical eye-roll interrupted me. “Calm down, soldier. I’m kidding with you. These things happen – you’ll be right as rain soon enough, but for now,  you’re going to take it easy, okay?” Despite the slight edge of tenderness to his words, his voice was gruff, leaving me confused and disoriented, even as he gently tugged the sheets higher up my bare, scarred chest. “Get a little more rest, Sergeant Barnes. I’ll bring you some water and see if I can’t rustle up you something warm for you to eat – keep your strength up.” Dazed, I could only nod, closing my eyes without complaint as he backed away, compliant and willing under his intense stare.

[deaddovedec]

Hail Hydra - Chapter Nine

Things begin to reach their climax, and an announcement reaches the Soviet compound. CW: Forced to kill; death of PoWs; mentions of torture, neglect and abuse; gun violence. Prompts met; ‘The Gift of Gunpoint’ (Alternate) – December 9th prompt, Dead Dove December, ‘Paranoid’ – December 9th prompt, Hurtcember 2023, ‘Brainwashing’ – December 9th prompt, Whumpcember, ‘Can’t Open Their Eyes’ and ‘Feeling Weak From Blood Loss’ – Winter Wonderland Bingo, “Are You Serious?” – Fandom-Free Bingo.

Check it out on AO3 here, or read below the KR with the boards!

There was no respite for me because of my injury, my body being pushed ever further to new extremes, hours upon hours spent running up and down an isolated corridor, seeing how long I could keep sprinting before my exhausted, dehydrated, starved and beaten muscles gave out, and I was dragged back to my cell by my hair. Every ounce of my food was carefully measured, keeping me weak and pliable – not that it was needed. I saw Aleksi daily, his eyes flicking away from mine as I sought his gaze, and I knew, just as he did, that I would remain true to my word; there would be no disobedience from me. Not now. Despite my exhaustion, even I couldn’t help but notice the unrest that began to settle over the compound. I was left in my cell for days at a time, my wounds actually managing to heal before I was subjected to more tests and experiments. I began to feel myself descend into madness and paranoia in my isolation – was this the beginning of the end? Had I almost fulfilled my purpose, and I would soon be disposed of? The idea of not surviving this, having been through so much, was a painful one. For a while, I’d prayed for death, willing an ending to my torture through any means possible. But after months, I’d come too far to give up, and I was determined to see this through until I was free once more. Even in the height of summer, the temperature rarely rose above moderate, but at least the snow melted from the ground – so when I was dragged outside, blinking in the harsh light, my feet found dry earth rather than patches of ice. “Where are you taking me?” I snarled, jerking against my restraints through obligation rather than any real effort or expectation. “Shut up,” Ivan growled, jerking back just as readily. I’d felt the power in my muscles; I knew that if I really wanted to, I could snap him like a twig. But I was drained, both physically and mentally, and I’d long lost the will to fight. I was pushed to my knees before the doctor, wincing into the sun as I raised my gaze to meet his. “You know the drill, Американский,” he breathed, leaning close, his rancid breath washing over my face. “You obey, or the boy dies.” “Yes, Sir,” I replied stiffly, my back tense and nervous. The torture, the tests – it had all become routine and predictable. But here was something new, and I felt sweat bead under my hairline at the thought of the insidious new hell I’d face. “Двигаться! Move!” I turned my head in time to see a string of almost two dozen men dragged out of the compound, chained to one another and dishevelled - but markedly better kept than myself. They were lined up before the doctor, all but one trembling in their hole-riddled boots; the man on the end stood with an air of resilience, a worn American flag on his sleeve, the chevrons on his shoulder marking him as a sergeant - like myself. He nudged the man beside him - a young man with his head bowed and fatigues shredded beyond recognition - who raised his chin obligingly, tears carving tracks through the grime on his cheeks.

"Free the Germans and the Japanese," the doctor barked, eyes narrowed. The soldiers looked on in disbelief as their shackles were released, standing hesitant and nervous, until their seemingly-merciful captor waved his hand. "Go. If you can make your way off the mountain, you can go home. The war is over, and you have lost. We have no use for you anymore." With a glance at one another, the man began to trudge away - some at a stumbling run, others barely able to stand.

I'll be amazed if half of them make it off this mountain alive, I remarked internally - but I knew better by now than to voice my opinions.

The two remaining soldiers – the Sergeant and his companion – still stood with their chins high, staring down the doctor with something akin to disinterest, though the occasional wobble of the youth’s lip betrayed his fear. “А Aмериканцы?” the Soviet soldier by their side pressed, glaring   Americans? Both of them? The doctor’s gaze shifted to me, chilling me to the bone as he smiled viciously. “Let us test your obedience, soldier.” I don’t know what’s happening… But I don’t think I’m going to like it. “Stand.” “You obey this Russki, soldier?” the Sergeant snapped, glaring as I rose to my feet. I ignored him, my eyes emotionless as they found the doctor’s, and he offered me a gun, grip first. “Show them mercy, Американский.” I weighed the weapon in my hand, and the Soviet by the soldiers stepped forward slightly, earning a warning glare from the doctor. I could shoot him right now. I could end this. My eyes flicked around me, taking in the dozen of Soviet soldiers gathered around – and the countless more out of my sightline. I’d probably be dead before he hit the ground, and Aleksi would be close behind. They wouldn’t be allowed to walk out of here anyway. I looked instead to the soldiers, the Sergeant’s eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you serious? You’re an American! Have they brainwashed you?” “Silence, soldier!” the doctor snapped, turning a glare to him, one hand finding my shoulder firmly. “You know what to do.” I know what to do. My hand shook despite myself as I raised my gun level, quickly and calmly burying a bullet into the younger’s forehead. He doesn’t need to see his superior officer be sh- The logical decision-making of my mind was brushed aside as the Sergeant charged, snarling, my shot coming panicked and unsteady, slicing through the soft skin under his jaw. He stumbled as he reached me, falling to his knees, crimson pumping over the dirt-encrusted uniform as his lip curled in a death glare. My eyes closed automatically as he reached for me weakly, shutting out the sight of this torturous display, even when the doctor growled in my ear and grasped my jaw warningly, lids glued together in horror. “Open your eyes, or the next bullet will be for the boy. And he will not go so quickly.” Reluctantly, forcibly, I resumed staring down at the Sergeant sinking  slowly, sitting on his feet as the light began to fade in his eyes. “Traitor,” he rasped, his head lowering for the first time. “Tr… T…” Tears flowed silently down my cheeks as he collapsed, his blood spreading across the dirt in a gritty puddle, pooling around my feet and staining my skin. I’ll never be clean again.

@hurtcember @whumpcember @deaddovedec @fandom-free-bingo @seasonaldelightsbingo

[deaddovedec]

Hail Hydra - Chapter Eight

Aleksi’s torture reaches its finale, and Bucky gets put in isolation. CW: Canon-typical violence, submission to save another, stress position, reluctant whimper, physiological distress, emotional distress, lashing. Prompts filled: ‘Stress Free (Stress Position)’, December 8th prompt, Dead Dove December; ‘Flashback’, December 8th  Prompt, Hurtcember 2023; ‘Isolation’, December 8th prompt, Whumpcember; ‘Suspension’, Fandom-Free Bingo (Frosty Edition); ‘Caretaker Turned Whumper’, Fandom-Free Bingo (Frosty Edition).

Check it out on AO3 here, or read the first section below the KR with the board!

By the time the sound of fists on flesh ended, I was weeping profusely, and he was silent. His unresponsive body was dragged past me, blood pouring readily from his slack mouth and trailing from his evidently-broken nose. Breathe. Breathe… Please. But I saw no mist rise from his parted lips as he was heaved by me, leaving a familiar trail of red on white in his wake. The doctor stopped before me, squatting, and I raised my head as best I could. “You promised mercy.” He was quiet for a moment, humming through pursed lips as he cleaned off his glasses, wiping the blood splatters from the lenses. “He is alive. That is mercy. Creatures of your… Persuasion are immoral and illegal. We are told to dispatch such things from our ranks as quietly as possible.” “That’s disgusting,” I growled, teeth bared, but he didn’t even look up as he pressed his glasses back up his nose. “No. What you are – that is disgusting. A sign of fascism and degeneracy. You are lucky I do not eradicate you, too.” He reached forward, bloodstained fingers grasping my chin, and I winced. “But you are far too rare a specimen to let go so easily.” Snarling, I snapped at his hand as best I could, earning me a sharp backhand across my cheek that left my ears ringing. “Enough. We had a deal. I showed him mercy – but I am more than happy to take that back if you do not behave.” I clenched my jaw tightly, not trusting myself to speak, and he smiled. “You will spend the night out here, of course. You still require punishment.” He ran a hand through my hair, but I only stiffened, making no effort to move away and eliciting a pleased hum as he leant forward to whisper in my ear. “Good boy.”

@fandom-free-bingo @whumpcember @deaddovedec @hurtcember

[deaddovedec]

𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

Fandom ⊳ Marvel, Captain America

Rating ⊳ Explicit

Warning ⊳ Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Pairing ⊳ Hitman!Steve Rogers x Recovering!Bucky Barnes

Word Count ⊳ 5.8k +

Summary ⊳ Steve, a hitman on an assignment during the festivities of Christmas, catches sight of the most beautiful man in the world — hidden away in his target’s gang trophy collection.

On the other hand, Bucky is a survivor of a traumatic incident from five years ago. He is focused on rebuilding his life through therapy and living a sheltered existence to avoid drawing attention. It is ironic when fate intervenes the day he meets a man who is kind-hearted and generous; offering the battered, bruised, and retired vet a sense of solace and stability.

Their connection is something neither of them can understand, but the comfort it offers leaves neither of them willing to question it. Over time, Bucky develops an admiration for the man, but a shocking discovery throws him into a panic and sets off a series of events straight out of a harrowing psychological thriller, only, with a romantic twist.

Tags ⊳ Modern AU, Non-Linear Narrative, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Hitman Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Minor Character Death, Mentioned Past HTP, Blood and Torture, Mild Gore, Improper use of Christmas Decorations, Penectomy, Stalking, Steve's Dog Is A Matchmaker, Unhealthy Relationships, Dark Steve Rogers, Kidnapping, Flashbacks, Violence

Chapter One ⊳ Scarlet Stocking - Prompt ⊳ Stocking

Chapter Two ⊳ Heart Strings - Prompt ⊳ Heartwarming

Chapter Three ⊳ Where The Heart Is - Prompt ⊳ Home

Chapter Four ⊳ Frozen Nightmares - Prompt ⊳ Jugular

Chapter Five ⊳ Baby, It's Cold Outside - Prompt ⊳ Blood In The Snow

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 | Masterlist | AO3 | @deaddovedec

[deaddovedec]

𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

Fandom ⊳ Marvel, Captain America

Rating ⊳ Explicit

Warning ⊳ Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Pairing ⊳ Hitman!Steve Rogers x Recovering!Bucky Barnes

Word Count ⊳ 4.6k +

Summary ⊳ Steve, a hitman on an assignment during the festivities of Christmas, catches sight of the most beautiful man in the world — hidden away in his target’s gang trophy collection.

On the other hand, Bucky is a survivor of a traumatic incident from five years ago. He is focused on rebuilding his life through therapy and living a sheltered existence to avoid drawing attention. It is ironic when fate intervenes the day he meets a man who is kind-hearted and generous; offering the battered, bruised, and retired vet a sense of solace and stability.

Their connection is something neither of them can understand, but the comfort it offers leaves neither of them willing to question it. Over time, Bucky develops an admiration for the man, but a shocking discovery throws him into a panic and sets off a series of events straight out of a harrowing psychological thriller, only, with a romantic twist.

Chapter One ⊳ Scarlet Stocking - Prompt ⊳ Stocking

Chapter Two ⊳ Heart Strings - Prompt ⊳ Heartwarming

Chapter Three ⊳ Where The Heart Is - Prompt ⊳ Home

Chapter Four ⊳ Frozen Nightmares - Prompt ⊳ Jugular

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 | Masterlist | AO3 | @deaddovedec

[deaddovedec]

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬

Read here

Pairing ⊳ Kelpie!Bucky Barnes x Merman!Prince!Steve Rogers

Word Count ⊳ 3.4k

Warnings ⊳ MCD

Fandom ⊳ Marvel

Rating ⊳ E

Summary ⊳ Ever since Steve's first taste of freedom beyond the palace gates, his unwavering dedication to aiding others has driven him to risk his very existence. He has fearlessly ventured into treacherous depths, sacrificing his own life and the safety of his merpeople brethren. But now, a harrowing predicament looms before him, one that a sheltered life within the palace walls could have prepared him for. He is alone in his darkest hour, when the weight of his selfish actions threatens to consume him whole, and the boundaries of sacrifice blur into a maddening haze of uncertainty and despair.

A wish - a gamble, with the power to grant or inflict immeasurable suffering.

The sea witch's curse, fueled by his desperate longing, ruthlessly tore away his undersea existence, leaving him consumed by an insatiable ache for the water he could no longer embrace. Steve's desperate pleas were met with cruel indifference as he was condemned to wander the barren land, eternally severed from the sanctuary of his home beneath the relentless waves.

Tags ⊳ Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dark Magic, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Fairy Tale Curses, Merman Steve Rogers, Kelpie Bucky Barnes, First Meetings, Interspecies Seduction, Steve Rogers Feels, References to Depression, Mythology - Freeform, Self Harm, Drowning, Shapeshifting, Desperation, Fish out of Water Temporary Character Death, Sad and Swee, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oral, Mental Health Issues, Pining, Sad with a Happy Ending

Square Fills + Prompt ⊳

Day(s) Four: Curse & Eleven: Lost + | @deaddovedec

December + Flashback | BABB | @buckybarnesevents | card BABB019

O4 + AU: ROYALTY | Adoptable | @cabottombingo| Card # CABB2005

B3 + Mermaids | @steverogersbingo | SB3039

Wish Gone Wrong | @anyfandomangstbingo

Author's Notes ⊳ graphics created by @rookthorne // @rookthornesartistry // Moodboard made by yours truly | Masterlist | Dead Dove Dec Masterlist

[deaddovedec]

Hail Hydra - Chapter Seven

Bucky gives rebellion another go – and his only comfort is taken from him. CW: Canon-typical violence, neglect, locked outside in the cold, homophobia, shock collar, cliffhanger. Prompts filled: ‘First Night’, December 7th prompt, Dead Dove December; ‘Broken’, December 7th  Prompt, Hurtcember 2023; ‘Fainting’, December 7th prompt, Whumpcember; ‘Locked Outside’, Winter Wonderland Bingo; ‘You’re Insane!’, Multifandom Flash (Double).

Check it out on AO3 here, or below the KR with the boards!

I woke slowly, pressing closer to the warm, slender body half-beneath me, comforted by gentle hand stroking along my spine, unerring over healing wounds and fading scars. “Hey,” I whispered, shifting to rest on my chin and meet his gaze, his free hand propped behind his head to smile softly at me. “Good morning,” he breathed, fingertips moving to skirt my jaw affectionately. “I… I must go. It is getting later than I would like… I’m sorry.” I nodded once, letting those fingers guide my chin up to brush my lips against his, humming contentedly. “It’s okay… I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble.” He kissed my forehead gently, slowly easing my body from his, and I couldn’t help but wince at the cold floor on against my sleep-warmed skin. “Try and get some more rest before Ivan brings your breakfast, Bucky. I will see you tonight.” I nodded softly, wincing at the sunrise that came through the door as he opened it and lighting him from behind. Ethereal.

Ivan’s typical routine was to open my cell door, toss the tray onto the floor – often scattering most of the contents onto the concrete – and back out, leaving me to eat in silence until I was called upon for more torturous experiments. But the light under the door brightened, and still, nobody came. The hours trickled by slowly, my boredom so great that I almost began to miss the torture by the time I finally heard the grate of the bolt on the door. “Американский. On your feet.” “I haven’t had breakfast,” I growled, fingers clenching into a stubborn fist, raising my head where I was propped against the wall. Short of a few broken toes, smashed with a hammer and healing slowly, I was relatively unharmed, and would not be going quietly after a day of endless waiting. All I had here was the vague routine, and taking it from me had threatened to drive me mad; I would not be meek and compliant for their ease today, no matter what they threatened me with. “Is that the next plan? To starve me out?” He snorted, and my body crumbled beneath me as he hit the control in his hand, muscles spasming automatically at the electricity flowing through my bones. My jaw clenched unconsciously, biting back the agonised scream building in my throat as he approached me. “Yпрямый Американский.” Despite my pain, the second the convulsions stopped I lashed out, his own groan of pain sounding alongside the crack of his snapping tibia as my fist collided with his shin. I scrambled upright as his leg folded grotesquely beneath him, scrabbling in a panicked excitement to my feet and towards the door. I barely made it two steps before he hit the controls once more, sending me to the ground, cursing my idiocy and clawing at the concrete, the current frying my mind until I faded from consciousness.

Awareness came slowly, with a biting wind on my bare skin and heavy weights around my limbs, shivering even in my forced sleep as I blinked into the darkness. “You will not stand? You will kneel instead.” My eyes raised at the voice, and I shifted to raise my head, but found a strong rod keeping my head bowed and knees bent. Snow swirled, eliciting another shiver, and I realised for the first time that I was outside, the drifts around my legs stretching as far as I could see, interrupted only by a pair of black boots. “Chilly out here in the evening, is it not? I thought you would be tired of the cold.” “Why am I out here?” I spat, watching the clouds formed by my words drift beyond my eyeline. “This? Oh, there is no experiment here, Американский. This… Is punishment.” The doctor’s grin was predatory as he squatted before me, eyes sharp when they found mine. “You and that предатель have been very bad boys.” “Предатель?” He smirked viciously, moving forward to drag me around by the hair, eliciting a pained hiss. My eyes rose just high enough to see the snow-smeared outline of another person opposite me, restrained in a similar manner. “Traitor.” “B-B-Bucky,” the man opposite stuttered, his teeth chattering audibly, and as I squinted through the dusk I found him dressed only in his shorts, bare legs submerged in snow, my heart stopping as pale eyes found mine. “Aleksi,” I breathed, bile raising in my throat. “No…” I can survive this, but he can’t. “Please,” I whispered, turning my eyes to the doctor once more. “Please. You can do what you want to me. I won’t fight you anymore. Please, leave him be.” He simply smiled once more, shaking his head. “Oh, I do not think so. He does not deserve forgiveness, and neither do you. Maybe watching your lover die will break your spirit.” “No!” I snarled, straining against the chains that held me fast, the bar at my back digging into my skull as I fought to straighten my head until warm liquid dripped steadily onto my bare shoulders. “You can’t do this! You’re insane!” I cried, my muscles aching as I fought. “At least I am no педик,” he spat, leaning forward with dark eyes. “Faggot.” I let out a roar of pure hatred, lunging as best my restraints allowed, hand curled into a fist as I trashed – but I was too weak, and held too fast. “Bucky.” My eyes shifted automatically at the murmur, my sensitive hearing picking up his voice even over the whirling snow and the sound of my own heart pounding. “Bucky… I-It’s okay. It’s okay.” “No. No!” I roared, tugging harder, the cuff around my throat cutting off my breath and forcing me to relent. “It’s o-okay,” he repeated, hands shaking violently as they rose to placate me. “I do not regret my actions. I-I knew this cou-could be how it ends. It is ok-okay.” “No,” I whispered, tears filling and spilling from eyes, voice cracked and broken. “It… It was just once. It was the first night. It was a mistake- it won’t happen again. Please… Please don’t do this.” The doctor smiled once more, moving closer to me, his breath warm and scotch-scented on my face. “Beg.” “Please,” I breathed immediately, trembling. “I’ll do anything. Don’t kill him – not for me. I’ll do anything you want. Please. I won’t fight; I’ll let you do whatever you want to me, just… Let him go.” He straightened up once more, hands curling into fists by his sides as he considered my request. “You want me to show him mercy? You’ll behave?” “Yes! Yes, please. Please!” I begged, straining once more. “I’ll do anything you ask of me!” He took a step back, body shifting slightly as he turned to consider the man restrained opposite me, shaking violently from the cold.

@whumpcember @hurtcember @deaddovedec @multifandom-flash @seasonaldelightsbingo

[deaddovedec]

Hail Hydra - Chapter Six

Bucky seeks comfort. CW: Flashbacks (including forced amputation and brief body gore), Nightmares, T-rated smuttiness. Prompts filled: ‘Blood in the Snow’, December 6th prompt, Dead Dove December; ‘Starving’, December 6th  Prompt, Hurtcember 2023; ‘Nightmares’, December 6th prompt, Whumpcember; ‘Man Bites Man’, Multifandom Flash (Beehive); ‘You’re Cute When You’re Angry’, Multifandom Flash (Dozen).

Check it out on AO3 here, or below the KR with the boards!

Days dragged into weeks, bringing new rounds of probing and prodding, my skin being cut and torn and the time it took for me to heal noted in ever-growing files. Aleksi took care of me as best he could, finding me most nights and checking for infection, making sure I didn’t go hungry or thirsty, and that I was warm enough. I slowly began to fall asleep with my Ihead on his shoulder – then his chest, then his lap, his fingers smoothing my hair gently. The vulnerability was painful, but I needed a show of humanity after days of boredom and torture. It was only once the abuse became predictable – that the waking world became one of routine rather than surprising, new terrors – that the nightmares began.

Flashes of blood on snow- Gratinggrindingslicing pain- The sound of tendons snapping and severing- The pop and tear of a shoulder being pulled from its housing- I gasped and jerked awake, throat aching with swallowed tears and bitten-back sobs. Hands found my shoulders, squeezing me tight, and I snarled in panic, my forearm finding my assailant’s throat as I pinned them to the ground. “You are cute when you are angry,” he rasped, pale eyes wide with panic and anxiety. His blond hair spilled onto his forehead, and I hesitated, the fog clearing just a little, bared teeth parting slightly in surprise. “... Aleksi?” “Hello, Bucky.” I released him with a soft curse, trembling with fear. “Fuck. Fuck. I didn’t- I had no idea, I was just-” “Hey, now,” he soothed, one hand raised to placate me, the other rubbing gingerly at his throat. “It is okay. I am fine. It was just a bad dream, Американский.” Nodding softly, I averted my eyes, terror fading to shame as the flashes behind my gaze slowly began to recede. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know...” He hesitated, waiting for my nod as he moved closer, his palms finding my shoulders gently when I offered him affirmation. “It is okay, Bucky. I’m here. I have you.” My mind was still hazy, nerves on fire beneath his gentle touch, and those eyes – so alike in both colour and tenderness to a gaze I hadn’t seen in months. Before I could reconsider my actions, I was pressed against his hands, lips meeting his in a desperate, starved need for affection. He exhaled softly in surprise, hesitating for only a moment before one hand found its way into my hair, guiding me gently into the kiss with subtle motions. I could only whimper quietly, my own hand finding his waist and pulling him closer to me, lost in the feeling of tender touch and adoration I’d been denied for far too long. We broke apart after a few minutes, his lips plumped and my cheeks flushing softly. “I... I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I-” “Hush, Американский,” he soothed, smoothing my hair gently. “I know what it is to need comfort. This place is not fun for me, either... Though not as bad as for you.” I nodded nervously, wetting my lips with my tongue before leaning in once more, releasing a soft whine of need as my mouth found his – heavier now, with an urgency that I couldn’t convey with words.

It was hard to tell who initiated it – whose clumsy touch first moved from the innocent safety of hair and shoulders to the curve of a hipbone – but I soon found myself sprawled atop him, body pressed hungrily against his as my lips found his throat. He let out a quiet groan as I bit down gently, his back arching beneath me as his fingers grasped at my waist to pull me closer. “Bucky...” “Aleksi,” I breathed, my hand on the nape of his neck, tipping his head back. This part, at least, I was familiar with – but the feeling of his arousal pressed against my pelvis gave me pause. “...Are you okay?” he murmured, body stilling beneath mine. I could only swallow nervously, and he tipped my chin up, brushing his lips against my own. “We- Have you never...?” “Only with women,” I replied softly, blushing once more. “The man I knew, he... I never told him how I felt.” He nodded again, pulling me gently against his chest. “We are in no rush, Американский. I want you to be comfortable.” His hand found my hair, smoothing gently, and I blushed, unused to being the inexperienced one but soothed by the feeling of his heartbeat under my cheek.

@deaddovedec @whumpcember @hurtcember @multifandom-flash

[deaddovedec]

Hail Hydra - Chapter Five

The torture turns violent, and Bucky struggles to cope. CW: Stab wound, shock collar, humiliation, forced nudity. Prompts filled: ‘Jugular, December 5th prompt, Dead Dove December ‘Dead’, December 5th  Prompt, Hurtcember 2023 ‘Impaled’, December 5th prompt, Whumpcember ‘Got to Do What You Got to Do to Survive’, Winter Wonderland Bingo (2) ‘Humiliation’, Fandom-Free Bingo (Frosty Edition)

Check it out on AO3 here, or below the KR with the boards!

The heat sapped my strength and resistance far quicker than the cold ever did. It took a matter of hours for the dizziness and dehydration to have me slumped over, sweat pouring from my body in rivulets. The sun hadn’t yet begun to rise before the darkness closed in, finally unable to fight the weight pulling down my muscles.

I’m getting real sick of waking up to that face. Hands slapped my cheeks firmly, and I groaned weakly, lids flickering open reluctantly to find sharp green eyes staring at me through thick spectacles. “Ah – he wakes! Not dead yet, I see.” “Not yet,” I rasped, averting my gaze. “Despite your trying.” He smirked, tutting under his breath. “I suppose I will just have to keep trying, hm?” A needle sunk into my jugular, and I hissed through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to spit fury at him, his warnings from the morning still ringing loud in my ears. “What do you want from me?” I asked quietly, grimacing at the syringe of fluid being pushed into my neck. “I don’t know what the Germans did to me. I can’t tell you anything. Why not just let me go?” He tutted again – a patronising sound that set my teeth on edge, and I winced automatically. “We do not need your words, Американский. We need your body’s secrets.” With a sigh, he ran a fingertip over my sweat-sticky forehead, and I couldn’t help but sigh, his touch delightfully cool on my clammy skin. “But! First things are first. Do not let it be said we do not take care or you...” My restraints were removed, and I bolted upright, biting back a yowl as a sharp metal bar impaled my good shoulder at my haste. Another infuriating tut as the was buried in my flesh and muscle had me shaking fiercely with barely contained rage, but he only smiled sickeningly. “Will you never learn?” Bridling under his gaze, I snarled wordlessly, hand raising to wrap around the iron, intending to bury it between his eyes without hesitation- but my hand dropped in surprise as my body convulsed, torso dropping back to the table as spasms and writhes made my muscles contract, jaw clenched against my will. Each second felt like a lifetime as burning energy stirred my limbs without my consent, until I finally relaxed, shaking and panting. “... Shall we try this again, упрямый Американский? Sit.” I moved slowly, hesitantly upright, wincing at the pain in my shoulder, fingers curling instinctively as I fought to remove the rod submerged beside my collarbone. He smirked, leaning closer to yank to metal from my body, but I swallowed my grunt of pain as three inches of steel were dragged from me. “Better...” His fingers curled around the device at my throat, eliciting a pained wince as he dragged me to my feet, the skin beneath still sensitive from the shocks. “Now... Strip.” “I-I... What?” He smirked, leaning forward, a small control in his hand. “Don’t make me ask again, упрямый Американский.” Swallowing dryly, my fingers shook despite myself as I stood a little taller, meeting his eye, every bit as stubborn as he called me as I began to unbutton the heavy woollen jumpsuit still clinging to my body. I won’t let them humiliate me. I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do to survive. It’s better than dying. The wound in my shoulder ached as I wriggled free of the heavy material, kicking off my boots to remove it entirely before straightening, back stiff, to glare at him. My skin crawled as his eyes ghosted over me, and he smiled once more. “Good. It seems you can obey, with the right motivation. Ivan, hose down this dog and put him back in his cell. We are done for today.”

As it turns out, ‘hose down’ was not a figure of speech. I was forced, naked and trembling, out into the snow covered yard, where dozens of Soviet soldiers paused to stare and smirk, the only sympathy found in a pair of pale eyes that met mine steadily rather than probing my flesh like all the others. The remote now rested in Ivan’s hand, so I made no effort to resist as he secured me to manacles attached to the wall, willing to be hosed if it meant avoiding another round of electrocution – my muscles were still clenching intermittently. The temperature was below freezing, and the frost beneath my bare toes made my feet ache, but it was a welcome relief after the intolerable heat – at least, until he turned the frigid, high-powered hose on me, eliciting a yelp audible over even the sounds of the populated yard and earning a few snickers for my pains. The cold seeped into my bones immediately, nausea wracking my body at the rapid change in temperature, but I simply closed my eyes until Ivan deemed his job complete and unchained me. I was tossed back into my cell with a threadbare blanket – cold once more, but only as it had been upon my arrival. Curling up in the corner, knees clutched to my chest in a desperate attempt to preserve my body heat while I dried off, I could only wait patiently for him to come again, wondering absently about the needle plunged into my neck.

I was still trembling lightly by the time he slipped into my prison, tray in hand. The water was gone first, swallowed desperately – despite the easing of my symptoms, I was still painfully dehydrated, lips cracked and sticking to my tongue. He pressed against me to keep me warm as I ate, murmuring apologies for his failure to intervene in the yard. But I understood. The penalty for going against your unit was not one he could afford to pay – and it would, in all likelihood, end with us both dead. With a soft sigh, I rested my head on his skinny shoulder, exhausted by several nights with little sleep and shitty rations. “...What did they inject me with?” I murmured, leaning heavily against him. His fingers probed my throat gently, and I winced at the feeling of him palpation a mass under my skin. “...To track you, I think. Or maybe... Neutralise you. If they cannot control you.” I flinched, my own hand raising to my neck, fingers brushing his as I found the small, hard lump before wrapping around the collar at my throat. “They seem to be controlling me pretty effectively…” He grimaced sympathetically, one hand smoothing my hair, my eyes closing despite myself. “I don’t know how long I can keep doing this.” “Bucky, you-” “They’ve already left me for dead with sickness, frozen me, melted me, stabbed me, injected me, and tore my arm from my body. How much more until I can’t come back from it? Until it kills me?” I whispered, tears leaking out unconsciously, vulnerable in the darkness and his arms. “I won’t let that happen,” he vowed softly, squeezing me tighter. “You’ll be okay, Bucky. I promise.” @whumpcember @hurtcember @deaddovedec @fandom-free-bingo @seasonaldelightsbingo

[deaddovedec]

Hail Hydra - Chapter Four

Bucky is warmed up... A little too much. CW: Restraint, branding, threats of violence, temperature torture. Prompts filled: ‘Captivity’, December 4th prompt, Dead Dove December ‘Hug’ (Alternate), December 4th  Prompt, Hurtcember 2023 ‘Hidden Injury’, December 4th prompt, Whumpcember ‘Doctor’s Visit’, Bad Things Happen Bingo ‘“What a Gift to Relish, a Victim That Can’t Perish.”’, Five Nights At Freddy’s Bingo

Check it out on AO3 here, or below the KR with the boards!

I came to consciousness slowly, trembling violently under an unknown covering, still painfully cold but with a delightful, comforting warmth surrounding me. My lids flickered open, and I went to sit up, wincing at the pain as feeling began to leach back into my limbs. Straps across my body held me still once more, but I could only sigh, eyes finding a familiar ceiling overhead before the familiar, spectacled face moved into my line of sight. “Ah, here he is…” I snarled in response, straining against my restraints, teeth bared, but he only laughed, fingers probing at my arms, eliciting a hiss when he manipulated my painfully sensitive fingers. “You can feel this?” “Да, Cэр,” I spat sarcastically, and he snorted under his breath, grasping a finger in his hand and applying pressure until I felt the bone splinter, jaw clenched to keep from yelping. “Enough of your attitude, American,” he warned, “or next time we will take more pieces.” I ground my teeth, biting back further scathing response as he moved to my feet. I’ve already lost one hand. I’ll stay silent if it stops me from losing anything else. He methodically probed and prodded, my responses clipped and cold when he enquired as to my sensation. “Even the frostbite is reversing… Fascinating.” He moved back to my head, grasping my jaw roughly as I growled. “Your capacity for freezing temperatures is high,” he murmured, a predatory smirk coming over his face. “What a gift to relish, a victim that can’t perish! Though… I imagine even you could perish if pushed far enough.” “One day I’m going to get out of here, and we’ll see how much you can survive,” I hissed, eyes narrowed into violent slits, my fear briefly forgotten amidst my rage. He simply raised an eyebrow, crossing to the furnace in the corner – lit for the first time, to my knowledge. Humming under his breath, he passed out of my vision as he resumed speaking, his voice flat and deadly. “They say the war will be over soon. But… We are Russian. Why would we have an American in our cells?” His face leaned back into my line of sight, grinning sinisterly. “We are Allies, after all…” “You’re scum,” I snarled, baring my teeth once more. “You think you can keep me here? I’m going to-” My words were cut off by a yowl of pain, thrashing against my restraints at the feeling of the flesh in the hollow of my hipbone sizzling. “You have been warned, упрямый Американский. Do I have to remove your tongue?” I clamped my jaw shut, the muscles of my throat straining to keep my silence as my scream built behind my teeth. “Better.” There was a clatter of metal as he tossed the poker back into the furnace, tears pricking my eyes at the scent of burning skin. “Get him dressed. Time for stage two.”

Stage two, as it turned out, was more torture – as utterly predictable as I found that revelation. I was dressed in a snug, woollen jumpsuit, arms secured behind my back by the biceps - so I couldn’t unbutton the high collar - by a metal strong enough that even I couldn’t pull it apart. I was clad in thick socks and heavy boots, and, briefly, I was grateful. The gratitude passed quickly. A heavy, portable furnace was in each corner of my cell when I returned, fires blazing, amateur rigging leading out through a hastily-made hole in the wall to disperse the smoke. The room was sweltering, and I broke into a sweat immediately, hair sticking to my neck, and froze in the doorway until Ivan kicked in the back of my knees, sending me sprawling, and without my hands – or rather, hand – available to catch myself, my chin collided heavily with the concrete, and I hissed in pain as the skin was scraped raw. “Enjoy the warm,” he snorted, pushing my feet out of the way as he slammed the door shut, leaving me to struggle into a sitting position with a groan.

I think I’d preferred the cold. Within minutes, I was soaked in sweat, heart fluttering desperately against the heat, my mouth dry as a desert. I was pressed desperately against the wall between the two heaters furthest from the door, trying to leach as much cold from the rapidly-warming concrete as I could. Every second dragged heavy breaths from my body, muscles shaking in a frantic effort to dispel some of the insane heat burning under the wool. Every hour or so, the door opened, and Ivan did a round of the heaters with a stern warning not to move and a gun pointed at my head. By the third, I was considering charging him, just to make it end.

The sun was going down by the time the door opened for the sixth time, the golden rays startlingly beautiful after only the flickering flames to keep me company. I opened my mouth to protest weakly, but only a shaky croak came out, eyeballs aching from dehydration. I blinked in a desperate attempt to clear my blurry vision, and sighed with relief as a blond-haired face swam into view, squatting before me with concern. “Here,” he murmured, offering me a tray with a small, dry square of unidentifiable food. “Water?” I croaked, and he winced. “Technically… No. You are on dehydrated rations and no water intake.” His hand slid inside his shirt, pulling out one of the bottles of water I’d become familiar with. “But I swiped this. I cannot- It’s not much, but-” The second the plastic found my lips, I drank ravenously, careful not to spill a single, precious drop. I didn’t stop for breath until it was empty, resting my head back against the wall and panting hard. “Th-thank you…” “They do not expect you to make it through the night before you black out.” I watched him carefully, shoulders cramping from my pulled-back arms. “Neither do I,” I admitted softly, wincing as I shifted position, the burn on my hip aching from the heat. His eyebrows furrowed in concern, and I scowled. “What?” “Did they hurt you?” I laughed despite myself, chin jerking to gesture at the room around me. “They’re trying to cook me alive. What do you think?” “What did they do?” he breathed, inching closer, those blue eyes shining with worry, and I swallowed. “Hot poker. Hip. It’s fine.” His lip curled in a grimace, hand reaching out instinctively. “Can I see?” I growled automatically, flattening myself against the wall, and he winced. With a soft sigh, I relaxed reluctantly, letting his fingertips brush the jumpsuit. With slow, trembling hands, he unbuttoned the wool, exposing throat- chest- stomach, hesitating when his fingers brushed my pubic hair, his face turning pinker. “W- Ah, which… Which side?” “Left,” I replied softly, watching him closely. It has been a long time since I’d have someone so nervous around me, and, in spite of the situation I found myself in, I found myself smirking at his shyness. He gently eased the jumpsuit to the side, flinching sympathetically. “It is not deep. You heal quickly; you will be okay…” His thumb smoothed the skin over my burn, eliciting a soft shiver that made him smile. With a pause, his hand found my chest, and I raised an eyebrow, making his cheeks flush ever darker. “I-I… I’m checking your pulse.” “Isn’t that usually done at the throat?” I teased, my heart beating just a little harder under his touch, making him laugh and draw his hand away. “… Why do you heal so quickly?” he murmured a few moments later, slowly buttoning up my jumpsuit once more, mercifully stopping halfway to let my skin breathe for a short while. “I… Don’t really know,” I admitted, watching his slender, deft hands as they returned to his lap. “I was experimented on.” “Germans?” “Yes.” He nodded once, fingers curling into fists. “Yes… Well. The полковник – the Colonel, your doctor – is interested in you. He will do this for as long as he can, you understand.” When I could only nod weakly in response, he cleared his throat. “I will do what I can to help you, but I…” “I understand,” I replied quietly, wincing. “I know. I… I’ll be fine. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” My mouth had grown dry again, and I knew he was struggling himself when I saw his tongue catch on his parched lips. “… Go on. Get out of here. There’s no point in both of us strug-” My words were cut off as he slammed into me, arms tight around me. “You will be okay, Bucky. You will survive this.” I chuckled weakly, burying my face in his neck. “I’ll do my best, Aleksi.”

@deaddovedec @whumpcember @hurtcember @fnafbingo @badthingshappenbingo

[deaddovedec]

𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

Fandom ⊳ Marvel, Captain America

Rating ⊳ Explicit

Warning ⊳ Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Pairing ⊳ Hitman!Steve Rogers x Recovering!Bucky Barnes

Word Count ⊳ 3.6k +

Summary ⊳ Steve, a hitman on an assignment during the festivities of Christmas, catches sight of the most beautiful man in the world — hidden away in his target’s gang trophy collection.

On the other hand, Bucky is a survivor of a traumatic incident from five years ago. He is focused on rebuilding his life through therapy and living a sheltered existence to avoid drawing attention. It is ironic when fate intervenes the day he meets a man who is kind-hearted and generous; offering the battered, bruised, and retired vet a sense of solace and stability.

Their connection is something neither of them can understand, but the comfort it offers leaves neither of them willing to question it. Over time, Bucky develops an admiration for the man, but a shocking discovery throws him into a panic and sets off a series of events straight out of a harrowing psychological thriller, only, with a romantic twist.

Chapter One ⊳ Scarlet Stocking

Prompt ⊳ Stocking

Chapter Two ⊳ Heart Strings

Prompt ⊳ Heartwarming

Chapter Three ⊳ Where The Heart Is

Prompt ⊳ Home

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 | Masterlist | AO3 | @deaddovedec

[deaddovedec]

𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

Fandom ⊳ Marvel, Captain America

Rating ⊳ Explicit

Warning ⊳ Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Pairing ⊳ Hitman!Steve Rogers x Recovering!Bucky Barnes

Word Count ⊳ 2.9k +

Summary ⊳ Steve, a hitman on an assignment during the festivities of Christmas, catches sight of the most beautiful man in the world — hidden away in his target’s gang trophy collection.

On the other hand, Bucky is a survivor of a traumatic incident from five years ago. He is focused on rebuilding his life through therapy and living a sheltered existence to avoid drawing attention. It is ironic when fate intervenes the day he meets a man who is kind-hearted and generous; offering the battered, bruised, and retired vet a sense of solace and stability.

Their connection is something neither of them can understand, but the comfort it offers leaves neither of them willing to question it. Over time, Bucky develops an admiration for the man, but a shocking discovery throws him into a panic and sets off a series of events straight out of a harrowing psychological thriller, only, with a romantic twist.

Chapter One ⊳ Scarlet Stocking

Prompt ⊳ Stocking

Chapter Two ⊳ Heart Strings

Prompt ⊳ Heartwarming

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 | Masterlist | AO3 | @deaddovedec

[deaddovedec]

Hail Hydra - Chapter Three

When Sergeant Barnes starts to recover from his illness, he’s given other things to worry about. If you look at the CW and still decide to read, it’s on you ❤️ CW: illness recovery, temperature torture, hypothermia, loss of consciousness. Prompts filled: ‘Home’, December 3rd prompt, Dead Dove December ‘Hypothermia’, December 3rd Prompt, Whumpcember ‘Fainting, December 3rd prompt, Hurtcember 2023 ‘I’m Cold… So Cold’, Multifandom Flash Beehive Bingo ‘Losing Time’, Halloween Horror Bingo.

Check it out on AO3 here, or below the KR with the boards!

It only took a few days for the throbbing pain in my arm to begin to subside, with the gruesome streaks staining my skin receding slowly. As much as I was reluctant to admit it, it seemed that this scrawny Russian really was trying to help me. There was a chance – however slim – that I would actually survive this imprisonment.

When my symptoms started to clear, and I was eating and drinking everything they were offering without complaint, the bespectacled man who butchered me came back. I was held fast by Little and Large, pinned to the wall as I snarled, stomach aching from a well-placed punch as I was assessed, cold fingers probing my rapidly-healing stump. I’d known, ever since the time I spent strapped to the sadistic German’s table, that something he’d done to me had changed me somehow. I couldn’t remember most of it – the memories lost to me, buried beneath needles and restraints and metal pressing bruises into my face. But I moved faster, threw further, healed quicker than I ever had before. I was… Not unlike Steve, in some ways. Like how I survived a 400-foot fall and only lost an arm. “You heal quickly, but the arm does not grow back. Интересный… Interesting.” I thrashed once more as he half bent, unbuttoning my combat pants, stained with blood and dust from the concrete ground and splattered with bodily fluids from my using a bucket in the dark. But they were the only comfort I had in my dank cell, and I would not be parted with them easily, my feet lashing out automatically, kicking off the wall to propel myself further. He growled an order, and another fist slammed into my guts, making me retch and slump, sufficiently weakened by my days in captivity that Large’s heavy blow drained my fight, letting the doctor shed first my trousers, then my shorts, leaving me exposed and trembling. Bile rose in my throat at the thought, fingers clenching into a fist where it was pinned to the rough bricks. I will not have the first time a man touches me be this. I’ll die first. But he did nothing – only cast an eye over me before stepping back, nodding at the men either side of me. Little squatted to picked up my dropped clothes, pausing infinitesimally when his hand skimmed the rough edge of my carefully shaped plastic before burying the makeshift shiv amongst the layers, not meeting my eye as he rose once more. I was left to sink to my knees, shivering at the cold air washing over my bare skin, balling up against the wall in some desperate attempt to preserve my body heat. It was bad enough before, but at least my pants were built for cold weather, and I could tuck my fingers into my waistband to stop them freezing. Now, there was no barrier between my body and the cold.

By the time the door reopened, the light beneath the door had receded, plunging me into darkness and lowering the temperature ever further. I was trembling in the corner, creased into myself in a useless motion, hand tucked into my armpit in an effort to preserve my fingers. I scrambled forward desperately at the faint sight of the slender silhouette, trembling desperately. “Please- fuck, please say you’ve got some clothes, I’m freezing my ass off-” He shushed me quickly, kneeling on the floor before me. “I cannot do that. How could I explain that to Ivan?” “Ivan?” “The other guard,” he offered, rubbing my arms roughly. “They are testing to see how cold you can get before you lose consciousness. It will not be pleasant. The more I try to help you, the longer this will last.” “Then knock me out,” I growled, grasping his arm hard and leaning closer. “Please. We both know I’ll last too long even without your help. I can’t do it. Just knock me out.” I can’t lose my other hand to the cold. Please. He hesitated, then shook his head. “I cannot. Not yet, at least. They will be suspicious if you succumb so easily.” Burning acid rose in my throat – the only part of me that felt any warmth. “How long?” “Hm?” “How long do I have to last before you’ll help me?” He hummed thoughtfully, grimacing. “… A week, at least. You survived in the snow for hours before we found you, with no ill effects. They expect you to reach at least ten days before you cannot be woken. Much shorter, and there will be suspicion.” “A week,” I breathed, shivering at the thought, despite his hands still rubbing warmth into my biceps. “I will help you as much as I can.” He reached into his jacket, pulling out a flask and offering it to me. “It is whiskey,” he offered when I hesitated, unscrewing the cap and taking a pointed sip. “Safe. It will warm you.” I took a long, grateful gulp, trembling as the heat spread through my bones. “… I don’t understand why you’re helping me.” “I told you; I have no fight with you, Американский. I-” “No,” I interrupted quietly, shaking my head. “No, you wouldn’t risk your life for me, not for that.” He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, watching me closely. “… You remind me of a man I knew.” Snorting in disbelief, I shook my head. “I do?” “Yes. A… A friend of mine.” He blushed minutely, and my eyebrow arched. “… A good friend.” “Ah. You-” “No, no. He… No.” I winced sympathetically, inundated with flashes of home, of a sweet boy I grew up with who had no idea how I felt for him. “… I know what that’s like.” “You do?” he clarified in surprise, hands stuttering on my arms. “You remind me of him, actually,” I chuckled, shaking my head in disbelief. “Or- well, who he used to be, I suppose. He’s been through some… Changes, recently.” “I do?” he pressed, head cocked, those pale eyes locked on me, smiling softly. “I…” Despite myself, I licked my lips nervously, moving just a little closer. Oh, Steve… Shaking my head sharply, I drew back, snapping the illusion and breathing deeply as the cold settled over me once more. “Yes. You do. You… Look quite similar.” He nodded once, a hint of colour shading his cheeks as he removed his hands from me. “Yes, well… I-I will be back tomorrow evening. Just hold on, Американский… They say the war will be over soon. The prisoners will be released. You can go home to the man you know.” Offering him a weak smile, I nodded once. “So can you.” His face fell, and I winced. “…You can’t?” “No,” he replied quietly, eyes diverted. “No, I cannot. He was killed four months ago. By Germans,” he added, turning a startlingly angry gaze to me. “And yet it is Americans we keep in cells.” I blinked in surprise at his unexpected venom, silent until he stood. “… I never asked your name.” He offered me a shaky grin, pale in the dim light. “Aleksandr. Aleksi. And you, Американский? What do they call you?” “James. Bucky, to my friends.” He extended a hand, and I slid mine into his warm embrace hesitantly. “Pад встрече. It is nice to know you, James.” “Bucky,” I corrected softly. “Call me Bucky. It’s nice to know you too, Aleksi.”

He was right; it wasn’t pleasant. Each morning, when the larger man – Ivan – dropped off my meagre rations, he doused my trembling, naked body in icy water, my jaw juddering so fiercely that my teeth ached and I bit my tongue into rapidly-healing ribbons. My fingers and toes survived only by the Aleksi’s grace, an hour spent with my feet tucked beneath him, my body slowly but surely pressing closer to his as he warmed my fingers between his own, never complaining about my freezing skin. By the fourth night, he offered me his shirt while he sat with me, but I could only scoff weakly. “I don’t think it would fit over one of my arms. But thank you.” By the sixth, my vision was blurring, and the idea of another morning doused in water brought tears to my eyes as I cowered against him, his arms tight around me to keep me as warm as he could. I hated this weakness, but I had no choice but to accept it; I knew the likelihood of me surviving without the kind Soviet’s assistance was significantly slimmer. “I’m cold… So c-cold…” I stammered, trembling violently. Despite his best efforts, the numbness was beginning to settle irreversibly into my bones, the relief I found in his warmth dwindling each evening.

I knew I had reason to worry when even the cold water thrown over my body barely elicited a response. I was too tired to raise my head – too tired even to tremble any longer, between the cold keeping me awake and the shivering strapping my strength, my body’s desperate attempt to keep myself going depleting the last of my reserves. A foot found my ribs, and I could only moan weakly, eyes flickering as I sunk into unconsciousness, darkness overwhelming me even before my half-raised head met the ground.

@halloweenhorrorbingo @multifandom-flash @whumpcember @hurtcember @deaddovedec

[deaddovedec]

Hail Hydra - Chapter Two

Bucky’s captors leave their prisoner to fight through his illness. If you look at the CW and still decide to read, it’s on you ❤️ CW: sickness, overeating, paranoia, imprisonment, poor treatment of POWs, infection. Prompts filled: ‘Hidden’, December 2nd prompt, Dead Dove December “I’m fine”, December 2nd Prompt, Whumpcember ‘Sickness’, December 2nd prompt, Hurtcember 2023 ‘Blood From the Mouth’, Multifandom Flash Beehive Bingo ‘Disembodied Screams’, Halloween Horror Bingo.

Check it out on AO3 here, or below the KR with the boards!

I seemed to have been all but forgotten about. Twice a day, the door opened, and one of two figures pushed a tray into my cell, identifiable only be their outline against the harsh light behind them. I called them ‘Little’ and ‘Large’, and they called me ‘упрямый’. ‘Stubborn’, I would soon learn. They never removed my trays unless they were empty – and only once was it empty, when my howling stomach had driven me to launch the unidentifiable mush against the wall for fear of a swifter demise if I couldn’t maintain my willpower. It took three days for me to drink their water, my lips sticking together from dehydration, no doubt spurred on by the violent sweating that came as a result of my illness. When the plastic was empty, I chewed on it until I was left with a relatively sharp – if flexible – edge, hidden in my waistband. And I waited.

It was usually ‘Little’ in the evening, much to my relief; alongside the size difference, he stepped further into the cell, crouching to place the tray on the ground rather than tossing it carelessly into the room. He was always silent, his eyes diverted. But this time, he sat on the floor with a heavy sigh, staring at me for a moment over the tray. “…You must eat.” I blinked in surprise, hand freezing halfway around my side, mere inches from my hidden weapon. “I-I… What?” “Eat,” he repeated, nudging the tray toward me once more. “They say you have not yet eaten. You are strong, Американский , but if you do not eat, you will still die.” His accent was weaker than that of the other man, but he was still clearly Russian-born, and I furrowed my brow in irritation. “I’m fine.” My voice cracked from disuse, and he offered me a weak smile. “You are sick. From the… Removal,” he added, inclining his head toward the residual stump of my arm, and I scowled. “I need a doctor, not food. Antibiotics. Medicine?” I added when he cocked his head curiously. “Ah – лекарство, yes. Medicine. In the food,” he noted, gesturing. “Eating will help.” “You’re trying to drug me without my knowledge?” I growled, leaning forward, muscles tensing despite my weakness as my hand curled around my makeshift blade. He only smiled again, hands spread wide. “Would you have taken a pill?” I hesitated, eyes narrowing, and released the shiv once more. “No. But what makes you think I’ll eat your food, either?” He sighed, dusting off his hands as he pushed himself to his feet. “No food – you die. Food – you may live, Американский. The choice is for you to make. You are not supposed to be medicated; they want to see how long you take to die from your sickness. But I could not watch you suffer any longer. I have no fight with you, Американский. Only the Germans. So please, eat. Do not let my risk be for nothing.” The door clanged shut behind him, leaving me once more in the deafening silence, punctuated only by the disembodied screams of my fellow prisoners drifting through the crack under the door as I peered at the tray before me curiously. Is this a new tactic? A trick, to convince me to eat? I should have taken him hostage. I might have gotten out of here. I couldn’t convince myself it was true, however. I’d seen only part of the compound, glimpsed through the barred windows as I was half-dragged to this dank room, but I knew it was crawling with Soviet soldiers. I’d have been shot before I cleared the yard, no doubt about it. But maybe that would be better. Dying on my feet like a man, quickly, rather than rotting until starvation, sickness, or poison kills me slowly… I’d come to terms with my impending death. The only thing left to decide was how. But only one of the options before me had any chance of survival.

Once I started eating, it was a fight to stop. The trays left dotted around the cell were in various stages of decomposition, from mildly stale to furry with mold, and I ate anything that wasn’t likely to accelerate my demise, leaving me bloated and nauseous, curled up in the corner of the room. My discomfort was secondary to relief, however – the feeling of a full stomach, even if an unsettled one, was a revelation. As the night wore on and I didn’t find myself seizing or foaming at the mouth, I dared hope that maybe this skinny Russian really was trying to help me, in his own way. Maybe I’d even get some sleep. Maybe I won’t die in this cesspit after all. But I woke retching, my stomach on fire, barely having time to shift to my knees before partially digested mush tore its way through my oesophagus, eyes stinging at the acrid smell. The door clanged open a matter of seconds later, and I looked up, gaze narrowed, spitting the last of the bile from my mouth with a growl. “You,” I hissed, noting the slender outline as he moved toward me. “What the fuck did you do to me?” He knelt in front of me, his finger pressed to his lips urgently, and for the first time, I noticed the wide, blue eyes locked on me. Just like Stevie’s. “Nothing! Nothing, but you need to be quiet. If they hear you, they will do tests, and they will find the medicine I gave you. I will be killed, Американский. Please.” His voice was hushed but urgent, and I bit back another round of vomiting as his gaze cast around the cell. “…You ate it all?” “I was hungry,” I snapped, glaring. “I hadn’t eaten in days.” “This food is likely to make you sick when fresh. I have not poisoned you, Американский – you have poisoned yourself. Do you see?” He shifted one of the scraps into the light, and my stomach churned at the discoloured meat. “I-I didn’t even realise. I was just so hungry,” I whispered, wincing. “I’d have eaten anything.” He shook his head with a sigh, freezing when I growled as he raised his hand. “Calm. I am not going to hurt you, Американский.” I stiffened but stilled obligingly, eyes slitted in warning. But he simply ran the edge of his sleeve across the corner of my mouth, drawing back with a weak smile. “Blood. From sickness. You will be okay, I think.” I blinked in surprise, touching a finger to the spot where he’d brushed against my lips. I can’t remember the last person to touch me without violence. Actually… That’s not true. My mind flickered with images of a night a few weeks earlier, a hundred miles further north, when the cold became intolerable and my Captain found himself curled in my bed in an abandoned farmhouse and the feet between us became inches, then millimetres, then less, then nothing, his arms still bizarrely large as one slid under my head on a threadbare pillow, the other snaking hesitantly around my waist. I’d lain still, of course, feigning sleep - but I knew he could hear my heartbeat pick up just as well as I could. He simply held me closer, burying his face in the back of my neck gently, just as I had to him when he was a skinny creature shivering in the Brooklyn winters. I didn’t let the tears fall until I was certain he was asleep, tipping my head back gently to press closer, shivering with nervous joy instead of cold. I’d known what I was for a long time, but it took lying in his arms to realise that I didn’t just love men, but one specific man. And now here was this boy, no older than Steve himself, but leaner than my Captain was now, wiping blood from my mouth tenderly amidst this hellscape.

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