#hydra!sam

[bylerendgameyep]

[buckys-baby-boy]

Imagine being Sam Wilson

You go on an early morning run and meet this 100 year old superhero, cool.

He visits your workplace and you talk about war and stuff, nice.

He shows up at your front door looking like hell alongside a Russian spy.

They tell you the government are nazis, so, being the good man you are, you join them.

Your car gets wrecked by the 100 year old superhero's brainwashed nazi ex boyfriend who may or may not have trained the Russian spy.

The 100 year old superhero's super gay and totally not over his ex, so you have to go save him.

That's all in like three days.

I wouldn't have cared that much about someone I met three days ago.

[gunsandspaceships]

MCU Timeline: Captain America: The Winter Soldier

This one is even worse than Iron Man 2.

1942 - James Barnes joins the US Army.

Winter 1942-1943 - Barnes undergoes military training at Camp McCoy, Wisconsin.

As you can see, Bucky was born twice: in 1916 and 1917. Let's move on to the next exhibit.

Winter 1943-1944 - Steve Rogers saves more than 1,000 people by breaking Hydra's blockade. Peggy's future husband is among them.

Early 1945 - Sergeant Barnes fell from Zola's train, lost his left arm, but somehow survived. He is found by Red Army soldiers and taken to Hydra's lab.

Before March 5, 1945 - Rogers disappears in the Arctic.

Note: As you may have noticed, this movie made a mistake where it said it happened in 1944 and also in 1945 (Bucky's "death" and Zola's capture + ~2 days later). To avoid this mistake, I assumed it was December 31, 1944 - January 1, 1945. But I forgot about this newspaper that says "March 5, 1945". The title can be interpreted in many ways, but one thing is for sure - the event did not happen on March 5, because that is the date the newspaper was published. We need to go back at least one day.

March 1945? - Hydra branch in the Ukrainian SSR replaces James Barnes' lost arm and puts him into cryogenic sleep.

Note: These flashbacks of Zola talking about "new fist of Hydra" and "putting him on ice" make no sense since Zola was captured by SSR and imprisoned at the time. Either this took place years after the fall (was Barnes kept on ice this whole time?) and Zola was left alone at some point and somehow made his way to the USSR, or these parts of his memories with Zola are fake (and he's not in the room during the procedures) and were implanted in his brain by Hydra. Or was it just his imagination that created these memories to replace the lost ones? This movie gives more questions than I can get answers from it.

~August 14, 1945 - The US recruits German scientists, including Arnim Zola.

"After WW2" - S.H.I.E.L.D. is founded. SSR's federal functions and responsibilities are consolidated into the new organization.

1953 - Peggy Carter gives an interview about The Howling Commandos in New York.

Before 1970 - some recruited German scientists of strategic value (including Zola) are transferred to S.H.I.E.L.D.

1972 - Arnim Zola receives a terminal diagnosis and uploads his consciousness on 200,000 feet of databanks.

December 8, 1973 - Jasper Sitwell is born in Norfolk, Virginia.

1984 - Natalia Alianovna Romanova is born.

Note: In Black Widow we see a different year and a more precise date of "December 3, 1983". At this point I don't know which date is correct, so I'll just leave 1984 for this movie.

December 16, 1991 - the Winter Soldier kills Howard and Maria Stark.

Between 1990 and 1992 - Nick Fury serves as the Deputy Chief of the S.H.I.E.L.D. station in Bogota, Colombia. Alexander Pierce serves there in the State Department. Fury rescues Pierce's daughter, who has been taken hostage by rebels. Following the incident, Pierce joins Hydra.

As of September 18, 1992 - Alexander Pierce serves in the US Department of Defense.

Between 1995 and 1997 (5 years after the Bogota incident) - Pierce promotes Fury to Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Note that Fury has both eyes here. As we know from the movie Captain Marvel, he lost one of them in 1995. Shown here is the swearing-in scene for a position that could be one of the two mentioned - Fury to Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. or Pierce to WSC Member. The latter doesn't make much sense because members of the council are higher than the director. So it's assumed that Fury becomes Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., which couldn't happen while he had both eyes.

Before 2012 - at Fury's request, Alexander Pierce becomes a member of the World Security Council.

2009 - in Odessa, Ukraine, while on a mission to escort a nuclear engineer from Iran, Natasha is wounded by the Winter Soldier.

Between April 2012 and April 2014 - Steve Rogers kisses someone.

Early 2014 (before the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D.) - Baron Strucker and Dr. List use the Scepter in experiments to create mutants. Two survive - the Maximoff twins.

The main events of the movie take place in the second half of April 2014.

Why: It's impossible to determine the dates from the ones mentioned in the movie ("04/14/13" or "10/12/2013") because they a) contradict each other; b) say it's 2013, but as we know from IM3 and Thor: The Dark World, S.H.I.E.L.D. was still operational throughout 2013. So we'll have to treat them the same way we treated the dates on screens in IM2: disregard. Some (MCU Fandom Wiki) think it's March, which can't be true since in Washington D.C. in March you'll either see bare trees or cherry blossoms. The latter will last until mid-April. We don't see any of that in the movie, so we have to assume it's later, but not too far since some people are still wearing jackets. So we're looking at the second half of April - early May. May is definitely Marvel's favorite month.

No dates this time, kids. It's a mess, so I won't risk putting them in and will stick with "Day #".

Day 1:

~6:00 - 6:39 am - Rogers meets Sam Wilson. Natasha takes him on a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission.

Rogers, Romanoff and STRIKE are sent on an unmentioned mission near India.

Why we have to assume there was another mission before the ship was hijacked: Rumlow says the ship was hijacked by pirates 93 minutes ago. No one could get from Washington to India in 93 minutes, and I'm not even talking about reaction time and briefing. So we have to come up with this solution: Fury gave them another mission in India, then the pirates he hired hijacked the ship, and it "just so happened" that Rogers and Romanoff were nearby to be included in the response team.

Evening in DC/Night in Mumbai - The Lemurian Star mission in Indian Ocean, near Mumbai.

Day 2:

Fury shows Project Insight to Rogers.

Rogers goes to The Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum.

Day 3:

Morning - Rogers visits Peggy in the UK.

Note: Some people think she is shown in a nursing home in DC, but that doesn't make sense because after leaving S.H.I.E.L.D., Peggy returned to England (her S.H.I.E.L.D. file) and her funeral in CW was in London. So we have to assume that after visiting the museum, Steve went to the airport and spent 7-8 hours flying to the UK. He arrived there in the morning, visited Peggy and returned to the States to visit Sam at the VA in the evening and be home after sunset.

Fury learns that he does not have access to the Lemurian Star files and that "he" took the access "himself". He goes to Secretary Pierce and asks to postpone the launch of Project Insight.

Fury is attacked by Hydra agents and the Winter Soldier.

Evening - Rogers visits Wilson at VA.

Maria Hill comes to DC.

Night - Fury hides in Rogers' apartment. He informs Rogers that S.H.I.E.L.D. has been compromised and is then shot by the Winter Soldier. Fury manages to give Rogers the Project Insight flash drive.

Batroc is captured in Algiers.

Day 4:

1:03 am - Fury "dies".

Morning - Rogers meets Pierce.

STRIKE attacks Rogers in the Triskelion elevator.

Fury is taken to a secret location by Hill and his doctor.

Rogers throws away his S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform, returns to the hospital to retrieve the drive hidden there, and reunites with Natasha, who tells him about the Winter Soldier.

Under Pierce's manipulation, the WSC members reactivate Project Insight.

Rogers and Romanoff hack a flash drive in a mall.

Hill arranges a fake funeral for Fury, which is scheduled to take place on Friday.

Night - Steve and Natasha reach Camp Lehigh in NJ. They find Zola's servers, learn of Hydra's plot, and are attacked by a S.H.I.E.L.D./Hydra missile, but survive. Zola's servers are destroyed. Steve escapes with unconscious Natasha before STRIKE finds them. Rumlow calls in the Winter Soldier.

The Winter Soldier is at Pierce's house. He is given 10 hours to kill Natasha and Steve.

Pierce kills his housekeeper, Renata.

Day 5:

~7 am - Romanoff and Rogers return to Washington. They arrive at Sam Wilson's house.

Between 8 am and 2 pm - they steal an EXO-7 Falcon suit from Fort Meade, Maryland.

~3 pm - the trio capture Agent Sitwell, who tells them about Zola's algorithm and the goal of Project Insight - to kill anyone who poses or will pose a threat to Hydra (including them, Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange, Maria Hill, president Ellis and Tony Stark).

6 pm - the Winter Soldier and other Hydra agents attack the car with Rogers, Romanoff, Wilson and Sitwell. Sitwell is killed. Rogers finds out that the Winter Soldier is Bucky Barnes.

Barnes escapes. STRIKE apprehends Rogers, Romanoff and Wilson.

On the way to the execution site, the trio is rescued by Maria Hill and taken to Nick Fury.

8 pm - Pierce resets Barnes, who begins to regain his memories.

Night - Fury and Co discuss the situation and prepare a plan to stop Hydra and destroy S.H.I.E.L.D.

Day 6:

Project Insight launch day.

This is where the timing gets really confusing. The coordinates the characters give us are inconsistent: at night, Pierce gives Bucky 10 hours to kill Steve and Nat, and it can't be later than 3 pm. Lunch time limits us to 11 am - 3 pm, and then Natasha says there are 16 hours left until Project Insight launches, which can't be earlier than 10 am (in the scene with Rogers, before he stole his old uniform, it was already daylight, he needed time to do the heist, and when they arrived at the Triskelion, the original launch time was 2 hours later), but no later than 11 am (Pierce said it would be in the morning). And if you count 16 hours back from 10 am, you get evening, not lunch time. And Bucky's 10 hours have already passed. My solution - I would rather assume that the Winter Soldier was unable to track his targets in time and was late, plus Natasha rounded the clock so it was closer to 17 hours than 16.

~8 am - Rogers steals his World War II uniform from The Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum.

~9 am - Rogers exposes Hydra. Project Insight is launched 2 hours earlier.

The Battle at the Triskelion.

Afternoon - Brock Rumlow is taken to a hospital with serious injuries.

Senator Stern arrested by FBI.

Day 7, morning - Steve Rogers wakes up in the hospital with Sam Wilson at his bedside.

After the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. (AFS), May 2014:

~A week AFS - Natasha is questioned at a hearing of the DoD committee.

~A week AFS - Bucky visits the Captain America museum exhibition and learns about his past (determined by the growth of his facial hair).

~2 weeks AFS - Rogers, Wilson, Fury and Romanoff meet at Fury's gravesite. Fury heads to Europe (determined by Fury not having a black eye anymore).

Sharon Carter joins CIA.

Maria Hill is hired by Stark Industries.

MCU Timelines: Phases One and Two

[ivysos2001]

Catws is such an important movie and we can never talk about it enough

This movie is literally about a nazi terrorist regime that successfully infiltrates the us government and tries to take over everything but their plans are stopped *not just by the avengers in the movie* but by so many regular everyday people deciding to stand up to hydra’s demands, planting their feet and telling them no

It’s that guy at the computer who, gun to his head and with tears in his eyes, still refuses to launch the helicarriers

It’s the security officers all around the triskellion that are outnumbered and outgunned but still choose to fight hydra bc it’s the right thing to do

It’s Sharon Carter refusing to blindly follow orders from her superiors when they seem worthy of questioning (even before hydra was unmasked)

It’s even the high ranking political officers that oversee shield that blatantly refuse Pierce’s offers to join him in his plans for ultimate control

When Steve and Natasha talk to Zola he literally spells it out for them that hydra has been using fear to control people and make them desperate and afraid enough to willingly sacrifice their own freedom

But while all of the people in this movie are visibly shaken and afraid they also actively choose to not give in to it and decide to fight for what they know is right

This movie is so important bc in some ways (big or small) we’re all that guy in the chair- and our choices will always matter 💙

[staying-elive]

You know, the MCU had so many great opportunities to really highlight Sam's pararescue background and flesh out his origin story on-screen.

I'll forever be sad we haven't gotten any flashbacks to him rescueing people in his EXO 7 wings.

Was he still serving when Tony was captured by the Ten Rings people? Could he have been frustrated at potentially getting pulled from his unit so that he and Riley could try to extract some billionaire weapons manufacturer.

Could've shown the times he butted up against authority, where he felt that following the orders given were the wrong move and wasn't right. (Something that tied into "Well, the number of people around here giving orders is down to zero, so yeah.")

Also, if Sam's EXO program was around before Iron Man 1, then the air force already possessed that kind of flight technology. Was the EXO 7 also Stark tech back then? Or was it developed by the Air Force itself? Did Rhodey know about it? Was he involved in its development as head of the weapons R&D sector? (I headcanon yes, cos I'd like history between Sam and Rhodey.)

Were the wings developed as a weapon/offensive measure first before they were then used for rescue purposes? (the military cynic in me says yes) Could this have been another interesting ethical dilemma Sam thought about.

Or maybe it could've been revealed that after field testing the EXOs in rescue ops, the air force was getting reckless with them and started sending Sam and Riley out on more dangerous offensive missions, and that's when Riley was killed (routine op was just the cover story).

Could've really hammered home the theme of Sam distrusting the government and that they will always end up using any weapon (or symbol) that's given to them. And he didn't want to be used again.

Anyway, this post got really away from me! This started as me thinking 'Gee I wish Marvel showed more of his backstory...the emblem of the 58th rescue squadron is LITERALLY an angel with its arms holding the weight of the world and shielding it with its wings. And if that ain't our angel Sam then...'

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 216

“So we all know that Damian is trying to sneak in a new animal, right?” 

 “I mean, yeah, he only starts sneaking around like that when he’s sneaking something he shouldn’t be, and the box was pretty obvious…” 

“Are we going to ask about it or…” 

“Nah, plausible deniability when Alfred or Bruce inevitably finds it.” 

Later, Duke will regret listening to Dick and Steph, because there is now a massive fucking dragon glowering down at all of them from the back yard with nine heads. Each of which do not seem pleased. It might be time to question what Damian might have brought home this time…

[airflowolf]

the two winter soldiers working together.

1. effort for coordination in any given situation in order to reach a desirable result.

2. (they are trying their hardest to stand still and stable)

3. fast airway transportation for short distances and for evading avoidable obstacles.

[an--inconvenience]

I am not a 'fan of the mcu', I'm a fan of the version of the mcu that I carefully crafted in my brain while lying awake at night wondering what the mcu would've been like if the writers gave a shit. Common misconception

[logansgaar]

Bucky's stupid little eye twitch he does when he's telling a bold faced lie is such a beautiful detail... It's also fucking hilarious considering he's conditioned to be this super spy-assassin agent but as Bucky he apparently cannot lie to save his life

[tales-of-the-ghost-zone]

DP x MCU crossover

Sometime after Howard and Maria Stark’s death, Hydra decides to try and make a clone of Tony Stark, that’s infused with Super Soldier serum. They were hoping to get a super smart super soldier that they could control.

And thus Danny was born.

At some point when he’s like 2 or 3 one of the Hydra agents whose been his handler since he was born grows a conscious after witnessing the most recent experiment the other scientists in the lab put Danny through. They take Danny and run away from the lab. They don’t get away clean tho, they had to fight their way out of the lab and they were injured in the process. They wind up in Amity Park with baby Danny and come across the Fenton Parents. They hand Danny over to them and tell them to protect and look after the kid. And then they die.

The Fenton parents adopt Danny and raise him as their own. Danny grows up not knowing he’s adopted or that he’s a clone and a super soldier. The ghost portal accident happens when he’s 14 like cannon. The reason he survived and only half died is because of the super soldier serum in his blood.

Eventually, after the whole events of the Danny Phantom series has passed (minus Phantom Planet because fuck that horrible ending to the series). Danny, after defeating Pariah Dark, is now the king of the ghost zone. He still doesn’t realize he’s a clone of Tony Stark. Despite the fact that he looks exactly like a 17 year old version of the man!!!

And then New York happens. A portal opens up in the skies above New York, and aliens come pouring out of it! You bet your ass Danny hightailed it over to New York to help out the group of heroes that were trying to stop the aliens. He’s super hyped to fight aliens!!! He’s just having a blast zooming through the skies of New York, around skyscrapers, throwing punches and ecto-blasts at aliens, helping out the other heroes.

Meanwhile every time he helps one of the Avengers they all double take when they finally get a look at his face. Cause like yes this floating glowing child has glowing green eyes and Snow White hair, but the rest of his face looks like a very young Tony Stark. After each encounter with the boy the different Avengers call Tony over the coms to ask his status and to reassure themselves that Tony hadn’t been de-aged and given super powers mid battle.

Tony is the last one of them that meets Danny. He’s super annoyed at the fact everyone keeps calling him over the coms to ask his status. Like yeah he’s not a super soldier and doesn’t have powers, but neither does Romanoff or Barton!!! And unlike them he has his own super suit to protect him. So why is everyone calling in to check on him?!!!

And then finally Danny comes zooming around a building chasing after Loki’s chariot, shouting sarcastic quips at the god, while firing green blasts from his fists. And Tony just kind of blue screens for a minute. Jarvis has to take over piloting the suit for a minute while Tony reboots. He’s def got the surprised Pikachu face going on. Finally he reboots but Danny’s already flown off to deal with something else.

The battle comes to an end, the portal closes, the world is safe, and all the Avengers all head towards Stark tower. Danny sees them and where they’re headed and decides to meet them there. He’s been the only super hero around for a while and he wants to actually properly interact with these new hero’s!

Imagine his shock when he actually finally comes face to face with Tony Stark and finally realizes how much he looks like the man. He starts panicking thinking his mom had an affair with the man 17 years ago and just passed him off as Jack Fenton’s son.

Absolute chaos ensues as assumptions are made. DNA tests happen. They realize that no he is not Tony’s kid, he’s Tony’s clone. More assumptions are made. No body is having a good time.

[eccentricallygothic]

why does it look like they are gonna fuck up buckys progress in thunderbolts? 🥲😔

[weeeyotch]

Between Shadows & Steel: CH. 1

⊱ Word Count: 2.7k ⊰

⊱ Warnings: Violence ⊰

⊱ BS&S Masterlist ⊰

❧ a/n: here's chapter 1 finally! sorry for the long wait, but i hope that it was worth it :)

A shrill scream echoed across the barren landscape, a chilling cry that marked the moment the predator had found its prey. 

Through the darkened forest the prey stumbled, wounded and panicked. Crimson streams of blood ran down her arms and painted her delicate lips. With each clumsy step that she took, droplets fell from her milky skin and perverted the virgin snow beneath her torn shoes. 

Behind her came the sound of boots crushing the fresh delicate snow–heavy, determined, and familiar. A shudder overtook her entire body as she imagined the footprints swallowing hers, removing any trace of her presence. The twisted music of clanging metal followed each step. 

Clang. Clang.

Clang. Clang.

The wolf was close by. 

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. 

The wolf was getting hungrier. 

Soon, the grating sound of her wheezing overtook the metallic orchestra. Her lungs screamed with each breath taken and the back of her throat burned with the coldness of winter. Although she had been used to the chase by now, there was always someplace to hide—a tunnel, an abandoned swimming pool, an uncomfortably large crowd filled with empty and uncaring eyes. 

But now, there was almost nothing to offer protection. The banks of snow would swallow her whole, the supple yet thorny bushes would peel the skin from her face, and the wolf could tear down the skinny trees with only his hand. There was barely anything between her and the fate of a gory interaction. 

Save for the blinding lights in the distance. 

Through the heavy clouds of her breaths, she could finally see her salvation. A wave of relief crashed into her. It truly felt as though she had escaped from the deepest pits of Hell—where thousands of screeching demons would grab onto her and try to drag her back down—and finally reached the glorious gates of Heaven. Without realizing it, tears of joy streamed down her face, and she let out sobs that sounded like dry heaves. 

She  had finally made it. 

Despite her body wanting to collapse out of exhaustion, she somehow willed herself to keep going. Every muscle shrieked in pain and threatened to shatter like glass. Even her bones, her organs, her tissues, her veins, down to the tiniest most minuscule cell felt like they were on fire. Yet she went on, crying and wheezing and smiling towards her saviours. 

Everything that happened in the last two years led to this moment. Every wild chase she had been sent on, sleeping in the filthy crevices of catacombs, leaving her old life behind with a fleeting goodbye—it led her to now, to the heavily protected border of Maine that swarmed with dozens of armed guards. Even with their loaded rifles and trigger-happy fingers, she felt safer with them than she had ever felt in her entire life. 

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. 

The wolf knew that salvation was near. 

He did not like that. 

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. 

Through the break in the bare trees, she was able to see the source of the light: ginormous floodlights that towered almost one-hundred meters into the sky, painting everything within a mile-radius an eerie orange hue. The sound of idle chatter, shouted commands, and boots against gravel became louder. 

In the midst of her desperation, she willed herself to scream. 

“Help! Help!” 

With every word out of her mouth, it felt like her throat was on fire. She hoped that it would deter the wolf, if even by a little bit. He would not like it if there were a dozen armed men running into the forest with them. 

Finally: a break in the trees. Through the twisted branches she saw a snow-covered road that had turned black and grimey from the many cars that drove over it. Although it was disgusting, it was as though she had found the pathway to Heaven. 

She let out another scream, but not a cry for help; this one was guttural—a noise of relief, elatedness, and pure fear. There was no more doubting it: she would live in safety. 

The commotion on the border grew louder and louder with each step. Two silhouettes armed with rifles were visible through the trees. They stood like statues on the filthy road, unmoving and waiting for whatever commotion to appear from the trees. 

Ground patrol. 

She began to wave her arms over her head like a lunatic, screaming: “I’m here! Hey, I’m over here!” 

The guards snapped to attention, lifting their rifles as they aimed towards the disturbance. One of them barked an order, maybe demanding that she stops or identifies herself, but she couldn’t hear it over the pounding of her heart and the crunch of the snow beneath her desperate steps. 

“I’m not a threat!” she sobbed. “Please, help me!”

Her legs wobbled, threatening to buckle underneath her. Yet she pushed forward into the safety of a rifle, focusing on the two soldiers. 

Rescue. Salvation. 

Suddenly, she saw the slightest glimpse of silver out of the corner of her eyes. The wolf had finally caught up to her and was now running by her side. A strip of silver reached out towards her. 

Clang. Clang. CLANG. CLANG. CLANG. 

With a final pump of adrenaline in her body, she launched herself the remaining few meters onto the road. 

She rolled onto the filthy ice littered with pebbles, her bones hitting the icy pavement with a sickening crack. For a brief second she had lost all control of her body; her limbs would not respond to any of the movements that she willed while trying to navigate through a rapidly spinning world. Instead, she settled for laying on her belly and tried to focus all of her energy onto the two guards in front of her. 

They were taken aback by what they had witnessed. With their jaws hanging open and their rifles pointed to the side in their limp arms, they could not believe what they were seeing: a young woman so emaciated that her bruised eyes seem to pop out of the clear outline of her skull; a young woman who looked so defeated that the task of even breathing was akin to Atlas holding the world on his shoulders. 

“Please,” she wheezed, blood trickling out the corner of her mouth. “Please don’t let him take me back.” 

The two soldiers remained unmoving. 

There the wolf stood, just mere feet away, framed ominously by the skeletal trees. The floodlights stretched out his shadow to be long and menacing, the sharp edges of his form exaggerated against the snow. His face was obscured by the darkness, but his metal arm shone as it caught the light. 

The Winter Soldier. 

As she lay there defeated, exhausted, and unable to breathe, his broad frame was the silhouette of death. There would be no more running for her now. 

The guards hesitated, their weapons now shifting between her to the figure lurking in the trees. “Stop right there!” one of them shouted. “Hands where we can see them!” 

The Winter Soldier did not respond. The frost of his breath was visible as he exhaled steadily, not even remotely bothered by the guns pointing directly at him. Instead, he stepped forward, his movements slow and predatory. 

This was nothing more than a game to him–an extra addition to the hunt. 

“Shoot him!” she wailed. “He’s going to take me back, please shoot him!” 

The soldier’s hands trembled as they kept their aim. It was clear that they were uncertain–even strangely hesitant. They had never seen a man look more relaxed, and somewhat even bored, with a dozen rifles pointed right at him. And yet, she had no time for their hesitation. 

A sharp, ragged inhale burned her lungs as she fought to push herself up onto the calloused palms of her bloodied hands. “Do it!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “Do it now!” 

The Winter Soldier took another step forward. Then another. His boots crunched softly against the ice as if he had all the time in the world. The floodlights illuminated just enough of his face for her to see it; a black mask concealing his mouth, nose, and cheeks, with the unsettling black paint swatched across his eyes and temples. There he remained, if even briefly, so that she could take one last good look at him; an opportunity to meet Death’s gaze and finally accept her grim fate. 

It made her stomach churn with fury and despair. 

The crack of a gunshot suddenly shattered the night–one of the guards finally took action. 

Before the bullet could reach him, he lunged forward, his metal arm a brilliant blur as it struck the nearest soldier. The impact was sickening as bone and flesh gave way beneath his godly strength. The guard crumpled instantly, his body hitting the ground with a dull thud right next to her huddled form. 

Gunshots and yells rang throughout the air. 

Shocked by the quick fate of his colleague, the second soldier barely had any time to react before the assassin was on him. A swift yet brutal motion sent his rifle skidding across the ice. The Winter Soldier’s gloved hand closed around his throat. The soldier kicked, struggled, pleaded, and gargled. 

It was useless. 

His grip became tighter and tighter, until one-by-one, the bones in his neck broke apart like popsicle sticks. He too was thrown next to the girl. 

She could only watch in horror as he turned his attention to the remaining guards, his expression unchanged, his indifference terrifying. He moved like the predator he was, calculated and unrelenting. A soldier tried to run, but could only make it a few steps before the serrated blade of a knife found purchase in between his shoulder blades. 

More shots were exchanged, firing back and forth and lighting up the darkened night until a final shot rang out. There he remained, in the middle of the road, completely unfazed at the pile of bodies surrounding him. 

She began to weep; she couldn’t believe it. Within mere moments, they were all gone–her saviours, her guardian angels, her last chance at life. 

He marched towards her with a vigour that frightened her, as he seemed almost energized by the deadly interaction. His clenched fists, his long strides, his narrowed eyes, no doubt they screamed that playtime was over, back to your cage.  

“No. No. No. No.” she sobbed. “Stop. Please stop. No. No. Stop!” 

With an iron grip on her protruding ankles, he started to drag her back into the eternal darkness of the forest. She let out a guttural scream, digging her fingernails into the ice to try and anchor herself. If he managed to take her back into the forest, she feared that the darkness would swallow her whole. 

Nobody would ever find her again. The footsteps of her plight would disappear into the snow and her cries would vanish into the air. The only thing left in her wake would be a pile of bodies and crimson blood splattered against the pure white snow. 

Desperation surged through her veins. She grabbed the gun from the fallen soldier and turned it onto her assailant. He stopped dragging her, even loosening his grip on her ankles ever so slightly. There they were, face-to-face yet again. They had done this showdown at least a dozen times before. But this time felt different. 

This time, it felt like the last. 

No words were exchanged between the two of them. With the barrel of the assault rifle pointing at him, the threat was painfully clear. Yet he wasn’t afraid.

In a twisted way, he seemed to be almost amused by the display. She could see the skin of his cheeks raise higher—no doubt there was a smirk underneath his black mask. His steely eyes shimmered with delight as he held her gaze. Seeing the amusement on his face, her hands began to tremble. 

What was she thinking? 

She had just watched him take the wrath of a hundred bullets from a dozen men and he didn’t even have a single scratch. Any blood that was on him was not his. 

How could she, as wounded and defeated as she was, ever hope to take him down? 

Realistically, there was no winning for her.

On the other side of the moment lay only pain, torture, and an inevitable horrifying death.  

And yet, it was in that moment that she found a brief semblance of acceptance. Even peace. 

The fight was over. All that was left to do was make sure it ended on her terms. 

In one swift motion she raised the gun, placing the barrel in her mouth and pulled the trigger. 

Or she tried to. 

The trigger became jammed halfway, producing a feeble clicking noise instead of a deafening shot followed by the sound of her brains splattering against the ice. 

In her desperation, she pulled the trigger again, and again, and again. Tears started to stream from her eyes as she wailed around the barrel. The wolf let out a wry chuckle and ripped the gun out of her mouth, hitting her lower teeth. He threw it to the side like garbage before grabbing the collar of her torn jacket and placing his face against hers, the covering of his mask touching the tip of her nose. 

“I am done playing games with you,” he hissed. “I am taking you back, where you belong. Where you will be dealt with for your disloyalty.” 

Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her chest rising and falling erratically as his works sank in. Where you belong. The words made her stomach twist. She knew exactly what was waiting for her if she went back–cold steel tables, the bite of thick needles, the feeling of her mind unraveling thread by thread until nothing of her remained.

“No,” she rasped. She clenched her hands around the fabric of his sleeve, her misshapen nails biting into the material. “I’d rather die.” 

The soldier said nothing. He tilted his head, observing the disastrous state he put her in. Without warning, he hauled her up with frightening ease, his grip unyielding as he lifted her to her feet. 

Her legs could barely hold her weight. She swayed, lightheaded, darkness creeping into her vision. But she refused to go limp–she couldn’t make it anymore easier for him. 

With the last remnants of any strength, she swung at him. A wild, desperate punch that barely turned his head. He didn’t even flinch. 

Instead, he spoke, a thick accent carrying his words through the eerily-silent winter air. “You never learn.” 

Then he moved. 

Pain exploded on the right side of her abdomen as his fist connected with her ribs, not once but twice. The world blurred, and a sharp cry tore itself from her throat as she crumpled forward. If not for his grip, she would have collapsed onto the corpses. He pulled her back up, forcing her to look at him. 

Through the haze of pain and exhaustion she could barely meet his gaze anymore. A strange feeling of serenity washed over her; she suddenly felt at ease, with no more fight left in her, that now she could rest. If even for a while, she could finally close her heavy eyelids and drift away. 

Then–

A sharp, deafening crack split the air. 

The Winter Soldier tensed, his grip on her tightening for a moment as moved his gaze downwards. His eyes widened in shock once he saw the blood soaking through her jacket. 

A new pain was blooming in her side–white, hot, and searing; something that set her veins on fire yet left her with no ability to scream. She suddenly felt wet and sticky, a warm substance dripping down her leg. 

He snapped his head to the side, confused and alert. 

She could barely register the second gunshot before the world tilted and she was left to fall back onto the already-frozen bodies of the fallen soldiers. More blood painted her face, but this time, it wasn’t hers. 

With a final heavy breath, the serenity only intensified. 

More and more, she drifted away as her eyelids came to a close. 

Until suddenly: nothing.

[moonlight-ee]

I wish this couple happened in the movies

[jen-with-a-pen]

F O X ＨＵＮＴ

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

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

word count: 6.1k

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

read here on ao3!

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

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

my ao3 | my masterlist

Translations

Lisitsa | лисица - fox/little fox

Soldat | солдат - soldier

Syuda | сюда - over here

Khitraya suka | хитрая сука - sly bitch

Moy priz | мой приз - my prize

Glupaya pizda | глупая пизда - stupid cunt

Moye | мое - mine

The infiltration was subtle at the start.

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

But hindsight is 20/20. It always is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d never seen Steve scared before. 

“Steve, what the fuck was that–”

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

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

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

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

He locked you in. 

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

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

White and Silver. Which alert was that for?

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

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

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

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

A muffled swear. “Where’s Steve?”

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

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

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

“You what? Natasha!”

“No– time– you–”

“Natasha! Hello?”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

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

The lights went next. 

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

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

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

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

Too close. 

Another BANG! Then another. 

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

They, or it, broke in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sneakers?

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

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

It didn’t feel like a rescue.

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

Hostages. They were looking for hostages.

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

The intruder’s steps stopped. 

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

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

“Soldat, syuda!” 

The command made your heart stop.

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

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

You needed to get the fuck out of there. 

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

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

This was it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were fast, but he was faster. 

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

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

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

It felt like a car crash. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Bucky, it’s me–”

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

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

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

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

“You owe me what’s mine –!” 

BANG!

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

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

“Get the fuck off her, Bucky!” 

Steve.

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

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

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

“Now!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, besides the roof. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky. 

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

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

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

He’d found you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A new sound, then: ripping.

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

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

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

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

“Now, I get to take what’s mine.”

Your screams echoed as the world fell dark.

[airflowolf]

Hydra AU. maskless version under the cut

[buckys-baby-boy]

Sam, interrupting one of Bucky's rants: And let me guess, the lizard people were behind it?

Bucky: No, that's an antisemitic conspiracy theory.

Bucky: It was Hydra.

Sam: