Dumpster #5: We didn't start the trashfire

[trashmod]

Welcome to the latest, greatest, scummiest iteration of hydratrashmeme. Come on in and please check your sense of shame at the door.

Rules in brief: Don't be a jerk except to fictional characters. Warn if you want, but read at your own risk, because this is emphatically not a safe space. Link your fills on the fill post. Unprompted fills: make a prompt or a header comment and reply to it with the full text. Continuations of fills from earlier rounds: just make sure you link in both places.

What's on-topic: Filthy and perverted twists on all the quality whump served up by Cap: Winter Soldier. Noncon, aftermath, uncomfortably sexualized violence, mind control, inappropriate uses of Bucky Barnes' metal arm, bad guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves.
What's off-topic: a/b/o, D/s-verse, soulbonds, mundane AUs, shippy/romanticized noncon, MCU heroes repurposed into OOC or edgydark delivery vehicles for your fave's suffering. If you've got a prompt for one of those burning a hole in your brain, head on over to mcu_trash.

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Fill: The Quiet Game (1/?)

[devildears]

Quiet game.

A children’s game where the players must stay quiet for as long as possible. The last child or team to make noise wins the game. It is usually acceptable for players to make sounds they cannot control.

In retrospect, Bucky should have known something was off before he stepped out of his hut in nothing but a red Shuka and a pair of worn-out leather sandals.

Steve had told him he wasn't coming for another day at least but when he'd heard (what he foolishly assumed) was the soft whirring of the quinjet’s motor and the children's happy cries at the prospect of being reunited with Captain America, he'd thrown all caution in the wind.

He should have known better - but he didn't.

---

Bucky stepped outside with an easy smile on his face, his body relaxed and sluggish from a few hours of midday nap. He blinked once, holding up his remaining flesh hand to shield his eyes from the setting sun, and froze.

Four men were standing in the middle of his front yard. Their thick ballistic vests and combat boots in jet-black a stark contrast against the earthly colors of the Wakandan countryside. They replaced the ever-present vivacity of the land, the warmth of wood, and soil, and sun-burned grass, with a feeling of all-encompassing dread. Ugly and inappropriate in the burning heat.

The children, a group of local youngsters between the age of 6 and 11, all known to Bucky by their name, age, and a variety of personal characteristics which he had given them silly nicknames for in his head, stood around them curiously, laughing and pointing at the men’s hair, their clothes, and their heavy gear.

Bucky stomach dropped. Maybe he should have grabbed a weapon to fight, to attack them immediately but he was frozen, looking at the seemingly peaceful scene before him with despair.

The kids didn’t seem concerned by the firearms and strange outfits the intruders carried. Bucky reckoned that they had never seen armed men before in their lives, no tactical gear besides Captain America's shield and the king’s cat suit if they were lucky. Not all of them had been to the Golden City yet. They certainly had no way to identify the ugly red Hydra insignia on their vests for something dangerous neither. 

No, Bucky's little Wakandan friends didn’t know any better than to welcome every stranger they met with open hearts. They were farmers’ kids from the Mining tribe, well protected and sheltered from the effects of war and tragedy. They knew neither borders nor rules of privacy, carefree and loved by all. The Wakandans cherished their young the same way they charished their vibranium - as a gift from the gods. 

Bucky had come to embrace their natural curiosity, even when they occasionally bothered him and Steve at the wrong time. He secretly enjoyed it when they treated his house like a public playground without a lock on the door. Their laughter chased away his dreams of darkness and filled his heart with joy.

'If he fought,’ Bucky thought in a desperate rush of panic, ‘the little kids would die first.’

This can’t be happening.

“Well, well...” one of the intruders said, adressing Bucky directly. He stretched out his arms as if to embrace an old friend. “If it isn’t the famous Winter Soldier.”

Bucky stood stock-still and said nothing, discreetly eyeing their weaponry. He analyzed their positions and team dynamics, counted every second that passed and weighed his options. To formulate a game plan he needed to gather intel, and fast.

“Cat got your tongue?” The strange man asked again, clicking his teeth, and Bucky realized with a sickening lurch that he knew exactly who this was.

“Agent Ward,” Bucky acknowledged with a tight clench of his jaw.

They had history to say the least. Ward was a former handler and famous S.H.I.E.L.D. infiltrator. Brock Rumlow’s best buddy from the academy. They'd been inseparable in training until a week or two before Project Inside was launched. No one knew why he’d left. Some said it was rivalry between him and Rollins, some said he’d simply been undercover too long to be reintegrated into Hydra’s great plan for the future of mass genocide. Everyone, including the Soldier, knew that Agent Ward was unpredictable and also, last Bucky had heard of him...

“I thought you were dead.”

“Well, I was, buddy.” Ward announced cheerfully. “You see, Coulsen, dear Agent Coulsen, choked the life out of me and then I became a Hydra god and... You know how it is. I don’t wanna bore you with the details.”

Bucky gave him a court nod in lieu of a safe way to clock him one. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

As if on cue, Ward gave the others a quick four-finger-sign, ordering them stand on guard. Then he took a lazy step out of their tactical formation.

“You should have realized by now, when your boyfriend and his gang brought you back from the dead... All kinds of things followed. All kinds of people. A lot of them are still loyal to Hydra and itching to make you pay.”

It was almost funny but not quite. Bucky had feared for repercussions when he woke up an entire year and a half after the snap, resurrected like some kind of nightmare version of the Lord Jesus Christ. He'd been ready to take on the consequences head-on but when the gates of hell didn't break open and alien invasions remained a thing of the past, he'd let himself be lulled into false security by Steve's happy tears and open thighs and put his concerns to rest like an amateur. He could have done better than that. If only.

Ward becomed him forward with a waving gesture. “Come here. Give me a hug, like an old friend.”

Bucky just glared across the distance and stood his ground. He didn't move a muscle.

“I said give me a hug,” Ward ordered sharply, pronouncing every syllable. “Don’t be shy now. We don’t wanna upset the children, do we?”

Right. The children.

Bucky's eyes landed on Amwoni. The young boy's little face glowed, his eyes lifted to the men in wonder. They all knew a few words of English, enough to communicate with Steve, to get their meaning across, but it wasn’t enough to understand the intention behind the words. The underlying threat. In that moment, Bucky made a decision.

He looked to Agent Ward again.

“Alright,” Bucky said tightly, his voice wavering with a strange mix of emotions.
“Whatever you want.”

Re: Fill: The Quiet Game (1/?)

[devildears]

I’ll have you know that the author has no clue how to a) find their own damned prompt to post this to as a reply for proper order b) un-double space this. ;) I’m sorry my garbabe is clogging the trash page.
The fic itself will have at least one more chapter and will be uploaded to Ao3 at some point. :)

Re: Fill: The Quiet Game (1/?)

[wickedthoughts]

You're filling this, yes!

Nice inclusion of Ward. I eagerly await more.

Fill: The Quiet Game (2/?)

[devildears]

Bucky’s double-spaced nightmare continues.
You can find the fic on Ao3 here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/17200607/chapters/40472615

Bucky moved slowly, his hand outstretched, palm up in front of his body, like a surrender. He watched the other soldiers wearily. They had turned their full attention on him. Their hands were ready, twitching, one finger on the trigger.

Bucky thought of Steve and what he would do when they found his body.

Do it for them. Keep walking. One foot in front of the other.

A nervous drop of sweat ran down his temple and disappeared under the fine cloth of his undergarmet. Bucky kept his pace, slow and steady, expecting signs that they were going to blast him right then and there every second now but nothing happened. The children didn't seem to notice the tense atmosphere at all.

When he finally reached Ward, miraculously still unharmed, Bucky swallowed hard and gathered all his courage. He couldn’t fight, he couldn’t run, he couldn’t resist. Instead, he took a deep breath, stood tall and gave his former handler a stiff one-armed embrace.

Ward wasted no time. When he pulled Bucky closer, chest to chest, he tried not to recoil from the touch. They were almost the same height. Over the agent’s shoulder, Bucky kept watching the other men like a hawk, unblinking, anxious to keep an eye out for movement at all times. The group seemed tense, on guard, like they were waiting for something. Bucky realized what it was before it happened. Ward wasn’t exactly subtle. His gloved hand slid further down Bucky’s spine, slowly wandering lower and lower, over the small of his back until it unabashedly came to rest on Bucky's ass. Real mature.

He wasn’t surprised. Not really. Hydra’s special brand of facism and toxic masculinity was bound to attract men like Ward - the ones who got off on exerting dominance over their victims. Sexual harassment was a means of control to them. It affirmed the ‘natural order’ of things. Bucky knew not to resist unless he meant to escalate the situation. He couldn’t. There was nothing to be done about the groping except to steel himself against the sickening sense of ‘wrong’ and wait it out until they got tired of humiliating him. The others chuckled and whistled at him while their leader copped a feel. Bucky gritted his teeth and imagined what their corpses would look like when Steve was through with them. 

Eventually, Ward stopped squeezing and relaxed his grip. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he whispered hotly in Bucky's ear. “If you comply, maybe I’ll let one of your kids live.”

Bucky flinched in shock, his eyes opened wide. He tried to pull away but Ward squeezed him against his body and kept him in a tight hold, one arm locked behind Bucky's head. “Stay,” the Hydra agent ordered as if he was commanding his lap dog.

Bucky could have broken his arm with ease but he already knew what the consequences of that would be, so he did nothing. Not an option. Unfortunately.

“Don’t—” he hissed at Ward, carefully keeping his voice down, “...don’t hurt them.” 

“Oh, you like those little fuckers, don’t you?” Ward whispered in his ear sweetly. The hot breath on his skin made Bucky break out in goosebumps. “You actually care about them, huh? That’s so cute.”

He grabbed Bucky's left shoulder painfully, squeezing the sensitive stump on purpose as he went until Bucky let himself wince. Then he was shoved and turned around to face the children.

Bucky stood stock-still, unresisting and making a show it, while Ward obnoxiously plastered himself to his back, threw one arm over Bucky's chest and rested his chin on his shoulder. He continued to smile unnaturally bright towards the little group as if he didn't know what the real thing was supposed to look like. Almost like Bucky before he had learned how to be a real person again. A joyless wolfish expression that threatened violence and nothing else.

“What shall we do with the little ones, huh? What do you think “Bucky”, wouldn’t they make perfect recruits for Hydra's new army? Look at them. Look! Look how they worship you with these big dumb eyes. You’re their fucking hero.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. It was true. Even now the children watched his every move, suspicious but still unaware of the danger they were in. Their attention had bothered him at first. In Wakanda, he stood out like a sore thumb. His white skin and the missing arm made him an oddity. People looked at him with an even stranger expression then before. He might have worn the asset's mask just as well.

Thankfully, time had worked in his favor. After a while, he’d gotten used to his reputation as the “White Wolf”, the crazy foreigner with the thousand yards stare. The constant presence of his uninvited young guests had helped to ease the way. When the people stopped treating him with fear, Bucky noticed that the sentiment went both ways. After he held Tamia’s fragile body against his own for the first time and swooped her up to dance, no longer concerned that he would clutch her little hands too tight or dirty her with his touch somehow, he was a changed man. Now he was just some funny uncle with a missing arm and a wild herd of goats.

Bucky's eyes dropped to the gun that was pressing at his backside. Ward kept it in a thigh holster, unsecured. It was a dare, a fake opportunity for Bucky to lose his cool, to reach for it and do something stupid that would get them all killed. He couldn't take the shot. He had way too many eyes on him as it was, too many to try anything. Not when the kids were in harms way. The risk was too high. Unless Bucky could take every single Hydra agent at once, the body count was bound to be catastrophic. He wasn’t prepared to pay that price, and they knew it. 

“I'm no one's hero,” Bucky said pointedly, gritting his teeth.

“That's right,” Ward drawled. “We’re gonna show them what you really are, won’t we?”

---

“After you.”

Goon number 2 shoved Bucky backwards through the opening of his hut, following right on foot. Bucky stumbled but managed to catch his weight by clutching to the rattling chains of the old cauldron he used for cooking. He steadied himself and stepped aside so the soldiers could herd the children into his small home as well.

There was an olalem, a beautiful traditional machete on the wall to his right. It was useless to him at the moment. He couldn't get to it and even if he could, he couldn’t do enough damage with it before the kids’ chances of survival dropped to zero. These guys knew what they were doing.

Two men flanked him, gun ready at his head while the others lined the children up against the wall expertly, controlling the space. The guards with machine guns covered the oldest ones.

Bucky called them Number 4 and 5 in his head. Number 2 and 3 we’re covering him and constantly looking to Ward for approval. 5, 6 and 7 also remained by the wall with the children. 8, 9 and 10 were waiting outside, securing the parameter. 

Someone had to be a weak link.

“Kids? Everybody stay calm, ok?” Bucky addressed the confused children. They seemed to have noticed that something was going on by now, something bad. Most of them were frowning and sticking together as close as possible. Some held hands or had latched the older kids’ coat-tails.

“Hlala... uphole. Thula,” Bucky repeated in their native tongue. Stay calm. Be quiet. “Nothing bad is gonna happen to us if we do as they say,” he said pointedly, adressing the men rather than the children. 

Ward snorted loudly and clapped his hands together. “Alright? You heard the man. Stay calm! Don’t be shy, Bucky. Why don’t you give us a little tour?”

Bucky's eyes darted between Ward and the exit.

“OK. This is where I live. Not much to see.”

“Oh really?” Ward turned his back to him and walked around in a circle, stopping in front the rumpled blankets on the ground. “What’s this, smartass? The marriage bed?” he asked sarcastically, gesturing to the grey wool-blankets on the ground.

When Bucky didn't comment on it right away, Ward kicked the pillows aside and stepped on them with his dirty shoes, messing up the bedding and leaving ugly footprints.

It was true. This was where he slept with Steve, in just about every way a person could sleep with another whenever he took a break from the endless undercover missions with his rogue Avengers and visited Wakanda.

When Bucky had come back from the dead, practically reassembled from the ashes Thanos left behind, Steve had promised to stay, to give up the mantle of Captain America and retire. Cherish the life they could have together, but in the end, there was another crisis and Steve being Steve, couldn’t stand by idly. The same way it had always been.

In the meantime, Bucky took care of things at home and did his best to make everything look presentable. The small hut and what was in it, including Bucky himself, was in for a thorough makeover when he knew that Steve was coming, coming back to him. As if there was any reason to pretend. Steve already knew what is was like to live with him, and what he looked like at his worst, but it was nice to nest, to make a solid effort at looking sharp. Bucky called it being a good partner and keeping the romance alive. When they were together, they stopped picking up after themselves immediately. They never made the bed, forever the bachelors they were before the war. It was too comfortable, time too precious to waste on cleaning up.

Goon Number 2 stepped closer. Bucky barely had any time to brace himself before he got slapped across the face, hard. The sound rang too loud in the enclosed space and Bucky let his body turn with the impact to absorb the shock and hide his face.

One of the children started to cry out. The others gasped and held on to one another, fear settling in.

“The commander asked you a question, bitch!” the guy barked at him.

Bucky focused on breathing deeply. Staying in control. In and out. When he picked up his head and tried to face Agent Ward again, Number 2 backhanded him, hitting the other cheek this time. Hard.

Fine. This, he could handle.

Fill: The Quiet Game (3/?)

[devildears]

Number 2 didn't take long to realize that he couldn't provoke a different reaction from Bucky (of course he couldn't, Bucky wasn’t that dumb), so when he tried to face Ward for the 4th time, Number 2 grabbed him by the hair instead, which the kids had pulled together into a half-bun this morning, and used it like a handle to drag him towards the wooden table in the center of the room, throwing him up against it.

It creaked and scraped against the muddy floor but miraculously didn't break when Bucky tumbled against it despite his weight. Bucky's scalp burned from the harsh pull. He lost his balance when he tried to hold onto the slippery wooden surface one-handedly, but that wasn't enough for his attacker. With one arm missing and the other twisted behind his back, Bucky had no way to protect his face when it was smashed against the table top.

“Bucky!” Arih screamed in her shrill baby voice.

Bucky groaned. “Guh...” Blood was streaming down his nose and dripping on the wooden surface. The pain and the smell made him nauseous.

“It’s ok...” He tried to console the wailing child. “Thula. Everything’s gonna be alright, sweetheart.”

“Yes, sweetheart.” The guy said to the little girl, still holding onto Bucky’s hair like a handle, forcing him to stay down. “Your uncle Bucky and I are gonna have some fun.”

Bucky spat out blood across the table and froze. Behind his back, Number 2 was fiddling with the seams of his Shuka - like he was looking for a zipper.

Ice-cold dread squeezed his heart. His pulse speed up. He knew what this was! He remembered this! Bending him over a flat surface was only the beginning of what these guys had in mind.

He wasn’t ready.

The children were not ready.

“No...” Bucky whispered in horror and then louder. “No! You can’t be serious—”

“My men need to heal,” Ward announced dramatically, arms outstretched like was quoting Shakespeare to an imaginary audience. “Admit that you betrayed us so we can all move on. It’s gonna be therapeutic to say it out loud. Come on, Bucky Bear. This is a team bonding experience.”

“I did it, ok? I betrayed you! Is that what you wanna hear?” Bucky screamed, panting frantically. “Don't do this... Please! Why do you even care? I haven't done anything to you!”

“Well, Hydra’s on its way to a brighter future now and you're just a relic of the old times. A little urban legend that the kids tell each other at the academy. The Winter Soldier. The asset. The thing that scares them in the dark. You don’t look very intimidating now, do you?”

Bucky tried not to tremble when he realized he didn't have the power to stop them as long as the children were here. He didn’t have any power at all. His entire body was on edge. He had to try... 

“Looks can be deceiving. You should let me go while you still have the chance.”

“Shut up!” Number 2 growled and yanked his head up and down by the hair as if he was controlling the movement of a puppet. “You will obey us, isn't that right?”

Ward paid him no mind whatsoever. “Oh, I’m sure you could put up one hell of a fight but don’t you doubt for a second that I will shoot one of these tiny monsters in the head if you don’t cooperate with us.”

Ward gave another signal and Number 2 cocked his rifle, shoving the barrel of it into Bucky's neck. He could feel the coldness of the metal against his skin like a deadly kiss.

“Now get undressed.”

Bucky shook his head vehemently, as much as he was able to against the already painful grip on his hair, trying to get back to an upright position. The strain filled his eyes with tears.

“No! Please— Come on, Ward...”

There was no answer. Instead, Ward circled around him, took a picture frame out of the bookshelf and shoved it in Bucky's face. It was a recent picture of him and Steve by the lake, smiling towards the camera. A ‘selfie’ they called it. Bucky's favorite.

“Oh, I get it, you think you’re Rogers bitch now. You two are exclusive? That’s so sweet. Don’t worry, we're gonna remind you who's your real owner.”

He stage-laughed again and the others joined in.

“You don't own me, and you never will,” Bucky spat at Ward in a sudden rush of anger. “No one owns me...” The laughter stopped at once. Bucky realized his mistake too late. 

Number 2 pulled his head up abruptly, raising him up from the table until he was bend-over backwards, so Ward could hit Bucky across the face with the frame. The glass shattered, cutting his cheek and leaving little shards everywhere.

Bucky could hear the blood rushing in his ears. Everything else was muted. Then the children started screaming in earnest. The guards were shouting, too. “Shut up, the lot of you!”

One of them shoved a child. Bucky couldn't see which one.

“Hey! Don't hurt them!” Bucky pleaded with the guards with new vigor. “I’m sorry! You were right! I'm sorry! I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t worry. You see,” Ward continued his monologue in a stage whisper over the rising sounds of crying and chaos around him, grinning at the little group like a madman, “Bucky here missed his old friends. We didn’t take proper care of him for such a long time, I think he’s forgotten his place.”

He barked a bunch of order at his minions and the shouting died down. Pitching his voice down to a low whisper, the Hydra agent leaned forward to watch the expression on Bucky's face up close. “I think we need to teach him a lesson.”

Bucky closed his eyes as the others roared and cheered, someone even clapped their hands as Ward bowed to them sarcastically. Then he turned his attention on Bucky again.

“Last chance. Get undressed or we’ll do the undressing for you.”

Bucky's heart raced. “Please, man. You don’t have to do this...” he protested. “Not here.”

“You're right. But we want to.”

Another guy, Number 3 probably, stepped up and took Number 2’s place in front of the table, grabbing Bucky neck and holding him down like a disobedient dog pushed into his own filth. The glass shards looming dangerously close to his face.

In the meantime, Number 2 had circled around and gotten behind Bucky, pressing his entire body against him. He was hard.

Bucky wanted to pull away in terror, gagging on fear and disgust but between the gun and the table there was nowhere left to go. They had him pinned. The edges of the hard wood left brusing imprints on Bucky’s hips.

‘This is really happening.’ Bucky thought to himself, and then, ‘This is gonna fuck up the poor kids so bad.’

He felt simultaneously hot and cold all over when the guy behind him grabbed one of his legs forcefully and hitched up his Shuka.

“Please! Don't—” Bucky tried again but he was cut off by the dreadful sound of ripping fabric. The man had torn through his undercoat at the back.

The children, those who weren’t crying, gasped and whispered amongst themselves. Bucky didn’t look at them but he felt his own face heat up in humiliation. They probably couldn’t see much from their position anyways with Bucky’s backside turned away from their innocent eyes but somehow this felt like a new low, a total defeat.

“No! Please! I know my place, I swear!” Bucky pleaded again. “I get it now! Just stop this!”

“Look at you…”

He refused to blush when Number 2 whistled in his ear but flinched violently when he felt a strange hand touch the bare skin of his ass.

The guy in front of him tightened the grip on his hair. “Now, where were we?”

“Please. Please, they don’t need to see this, man!” Bucky started to beg of the man in front of him. “There are kids here! Jesus... They're just kids!”

He couldn’t turn his head further to look either of them in the eye but he hoped to at least sway one of the guards to his side anyways. Ward was clearly the leader but if the others had a conscience or simply liked some privacy to get dicks wet...

“I won’t fight back, I swear! I’m not resisting. I’m not— Come on! Please? I'll do whatever you want. I’m not going to run. Just— not in front of the children. We can go outside, alright? Just take me outside! Jesus Christ! That’s all I’m asking! I’ll do whatever—”

“What are they gonna do to him?” One of the smaller boys whispered to the guards. He was barely 7 years old. 

The guard to his left who had his rifle pointed at them roared with laughter. “You’ll learn soon enough.”

Bucky swollowed hard and turned his head towards the noise. “Look away, sweetheart,” he said. “Don’t look at me. I don’t want any of you to see this.”

“I’m surprised,” Goon number 2 commented unaffected, “Do they make you wear these nightgowns underneath or it that a fashion statement? I mean, you never had any taste whatsoever but this is hideous.” Torturously slow, his hand pulled the ripped undercoat to the side and slid further and further up Bucky’s legs, exploring his thighs intimately.

“Please... Can we do this outside, guys? Please! It doesn't matter what I have to do. Just—”

A sharp intake of breath and a second hand joined the first, as if he hadn't said anything at all. Bucky's muscled strained to keep himself still.

The guy's hands wandered until he was grabbing at Bucky’s ass cheeks, pulling them apart. “I’d be free balling it before I’d put this shit on,” Number 2 said.

“Please...” Bucky tried again. His voice shook. There was a fearful tremor in his legs now, too, that he couldn't hide. He shivered violently. His stupid brain had decided to flood his system with adrenaline to give him a fighting chance, an advantage that he couldn’t take. Not when there was a gun to his head and this much collateral. He just couldn’t risk it.

“The children don’t need to be here. They don’t need to watch this! I’ll stay. I’m begging you! Just let them wait outside!”

“They're not gonna be able to see a thing with that dress you're wearing anyways,” one of the other guys snickered.

"Come on. They're too young. They barely even know—”

“Shut up about the goddamn children already!” Number 2 bellowed. “I want to enjoy myself. Gunnar? If he does anything to ruin this for me, you shoot one of the little fuckers!”

“Yes, Sir!” The guy with the assault rifles cocked his weapon, raised it in the air and fired a shot.

Fill: The Quiet Game (4/?)

[devildears]

“No!” Bucky panicked. 

The children all screamed in terror. Some of them cried for their parents but there was no hope. Bucky's hut was secluded. He often fired blanks on his property when there weren’t any people around, as a part of his training. No one would come.

“No! No, listen to me! I’m the one you want, ok? They’re just kids! They never did anything to nobody—”

The guy kneed him in the groin from behind. Bucky legs buckled. “Ah!!! —Fuck!!!” His vision swam around the edges.

The pain was excruciating. In other circumstances, he might have passed out right on the table, and gladly, if he wasn't so determined to save the children from watching him get raped in technicolor. He simply couldn’t take that. 

“I said shut the fuck up!” Number 2 hissed. “Otherwise I’m gonna do one of them instead if that’s what you're after.”

“No...” Bucky groaned miserably. “No. Don’t touch them! Don’t you—”

“Convince me.” A dry finger circled Bucky's hole. This was hell. 

There was no other way. He swallowed hard. “I’m begging you, man... Whatever you wanna do, you do it to me. Not them. I— Jesus... I can make it good for you, ok?”

Bucky knew he was grasping for straws now but with his dignity thrown out of the window, he thought anything was worth a try if it spared the children somehow. He purposely stopped struggling against the hold on his hair and let his body go limp, resting his entire weight on the table.

“I promise. You know me. You know I’m good for it. No one needs to touch the kids. I’m right here.”

Bucky relaxed against the prodding finger, to show them that he would make good on his promise. Instead of ripping the guy apart, as he probably could have if the children had been safe, he just lay there and let himself be inspected, skin pulled this and that way by the man behind him with a burning face. 

Number 2 slapped his ass cheek, like Bucky was a price horse, making him jump, and exposed his hole some more. Then, he aimed and spit on Bucky, only barely missing his mark. The cooling wetness landed on his thigh instead, trickling down on the inside of it like semen. Bucky was mortified. It didn't matter.

“That’s good. Real soulful.”

“I mean it...” Bucky said. “If that‘s what you came here for, just do it. You can have your revenge. I’m game. I’m not gonna stop you.”

“That's better. Go on.” They laughted again. 

“I— You wanna do some fucked up shit, yeah? I’ll do whatever. I'll do anything. You can all have a go, but you let the children wait outside and then you leave us the hell alone.”

“Huh,” Ward sighed. “I don't think so. The children are leverage and you know that. So no. But if you're well behaved, maybe we'll let them go after. In one piece even if you make it worth our while.” He snapped his fingers at the guy behind Bucky. “No time like the present. Get to it.”

Number 2 unbuckled his belt and Bucky closed his burning eyes, wishing he was anywhere else but here. He couldn't even leave his body like he used to. He had to moderate himself, control the sounds he made, so one day, when the children had grown up, they wouldn't be as messed up about the whole thing as he was. This was something he could do for them. They would all remember it.

He didn't think about Steve and what he would say about putting Bucky’s needs first. If he did he'd only want to die again, and he didn't want to imagine what these animals could do to the children if he wasn't there to take the brunt of it.

“You want it wet or dry?” Ward asked conversationally. 

Bucky buried his face in the table, colored in shame so he wouldn't have to look at anyone. The less he screamed the better. 

“...Wet.”

Number 2 spat in his palm. A horrible squelching sound. Bucky counted his own breath.

When the man positioned himself at Bucky's entrance and shoved forward in one long thrusting motion, Bucky bit on his bottom lip hard enough to bleed, barely suppressing a shout.

It was like getting fucked with a red-hot iron.

Of course they hadn't bothered with actual lube - or a condom. Why would they? This was supposed to be revenge and Bucky felt like his insides were scraped raw with every punishing thrust. The guy was huge and didn't hold back at all. It was pure agony. A white hot pain.

Number 2 pushed out slowly, probably taking skin with him as he went, judging by the ripping feeling the movement left inside, pulling almost all the way out only to slam back in with a grunt.

“Oh yeah.”

Bucky could feel the insides of his thighs getting slick with blood and refused to let himself cry. All he gave them was a high whimper.

“You're hurting him!” N’boku said.

“You can't do that!” One of the other children, probably his twin brother, Bucky couldn't tell their voices apart anymore, joined in.

“Thula...” Bucky tried again. “...Please.”

They didn’t listen. “Don't hurt him! You're bad! Bad!”

Ward was besides him suddenly, staring down at Bucky's burning face with unmasked glee. His hateful eyes widened every time Bucky's body was shoved forward by a particularly brutal thrust that made him want to scream. He clearly enjoyed the view.

“Shut them up or I will. Last warning.”

Bucky gathered what strength he had left, doing his best to ignore the pain and the humiliation and raised his voice.

“Hey, little ones? Remember that game we played... When they did the ceremony... The one with the... Where they brought the... the baby animals to show the king? Do you remember?”

The children nodded. Their little faces where wet with tears.

“They were scared, right? Because of the—”

Number 2 gave him a particular hard thrust, shoving himself as far inside as he could with singular focus and came.

Bucky had to turn away and bite his tongue to suppress a miserable cry to something more like a groan. His chest was heaving. He felt sick.

The rapist laughed like he had accomplished something and did it again, thrusting, steadily easing the way with his own semen this time.

“—the noise,” Bucky continued, several deep breaths later, his voice high and horse from the unbearable sensation. “They were scared of it. Just like you are now. So... lets play the game. Let’s try and be... be real quiet, ok? Just like we did last time.”

The children didn’t respond to Bucky’s words like he’d expected. Maybe they hadn’t understood. Maybe they’d simply forgotten about the game and the baby animals in sight of this horror show. Some were staring at the floor, others still watched the guardsmen with fearful but determined eyes.

‘I’m not worth your lives,’ Bucky thought.

“Kids?” he adressed them, trying to get their attention again. He couldn’t help but notice that his voice had a slightly hysterical edge to it. “Thula... The game? Please?”

“OK, Bucky,” W’Kabi, the youngest of them said in a small voice.

“Great... That’s great,” Bucky managed. “Good job, W’Kabi. We’re all playing. Last one to make... to make noise... wins. Starting now.”

Number 2 pulled out, hopefully putting his bloody dick back in his pants where the children couldn't see the mess. Bucky stayed right where he was, because he had to, wanting nothing more than to run away, and hide, and curl up, and die. It wasn't over yet. It couldn't be.

Ward squatted down besides the table by Bucky's head, until they came face to face and whispered under his breath, inaudible to the children, like it was also part of the game, “chose one.”

“What?” Bucky panted miserably, trying to keep his voice down.

Ward pointed towards the little group. “I'll let you choose one of them to take your place if you want.”

“No. I can't—”

“If you chose one we'll let you go,” Ward said. “Otherwise we'll go again and again and again. Order through pain and all that, do you remember?” He grinned, ugly and twisted, like evil personified.

“No. Never. I'm not chosing. I won’t let you. Take me, ok? Just me...” Bucky pleaded.

Ward smiled coldly and wiped away a silent tear on Bucky's cheek that had escaped without his permission, ignoring Bucky's startled attempt to flinch away from his hand. Then he tasted the salt on his finger like a treat and turned away.

“You're gonna regret this.”

When Number 3 came up behind him, stuffing a small piece of Bucky's ripped Shuka in his mouth like a mercy, Bucky asked himself why he had survived the fall in the Alps at all. What for? He longed for the cold, the calm and quiet of it all that would stop the constant screaming in his head and the agony in his body. He just couldn’t catch a break. 

Fill: The Quiet Game (5/?)

[devildears]

Agent Ward was a man of his word. They were 10 guys in total, 7 inside the small hut at all times, and some Bucky had to suffer through more than once. They used whatever weapons they had against him, anything that struck their fancy - their dicks, their guns, the shaft of a powered-up stun baton. Bucky’s body swallowed it all, more or less voluntarily. 

At least they weren’t interested in making him get off on it. His participation wasn’t required, other than to lie there and take it. When they realized that he wouldn’t fight back no matter what, they even stopped holding him down. 

Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling that they were disappointed when he didn’t try to escape or move from his spot. Their lack of experience in the field made them itch for a fight against the famous Winter Soldier, for a chance to break him, to prove themselves to their ruthless commander. Others had tried before and Bucky wasn’t going to give them anything beyond what was necessary to achieve his self-imployed mission.

In the end, they got what they wanted anyways, raping him on the table and dragging it out, one brutal thrust after the other, taunting him and uttering threats all the while. 

No one touched the children. Bucky’s compliance payed for it in full. Even his rapists seemed to respect that. 

He wasn’t sure how much the little kids saw or how well they could guess at what was happening in front of them. Judging by the occasional cries of protest and the soft sound of surpressed wailing, it was more than enough.

It was a pipe dream, Bucky thought, the illusion that some day, maybe, they could forget what horrors they had seen in his home and move on with their lives. As long as his back was turned the other way and they didn’t have to look at the bleeding wound, Bucky told himself that they would be ok.

Maybe it seemed less real, a little kinder to both him and the little kids than the alternative. Other than that, distracting the men with his body, staying as quiet as possible through the ordeal and showing them how to play the game was all he could do for them. 

Ward was the last one to go, shoving in three extra fingers besides his dick as if he wanted to tear his victim from the inside. He was the only participant who had bothered with a condom, too, like it meant something. Some sort of privilege not to mix with the others guy’s mess. 

Bucky whimpered at the unnatual stretch and grabbed the table hard enough to dent it. 

“Look at you take it,” Agent Ward said and laughed mercilessly. “You’d do anything for them, wouldn’t you?” He hocked a thumb underneath the fragile skin on the other side of Bucky’s hole and yanked outwards. 

Something tore. Chest heaving and stomach turning, Bucky muffled a tortured scream. There was so much blood between his legs already that it hardly made a difference. 

He was almost glad suddenly, that Number 8 and 9 had tried to get inside of him at the same time earlier. Otherwise, the shock might have gotten the best of him. 

“Now you remember your real owners, isn’t that right?” Agent Ward hissed in Bucky’s ear as he was rutting inside of him, twisting his fingers cruelly, again and again, leaving flecks of spit on Bucky’s tear-streaked face. “Hydra is everywhere.”

Bucky clenched as much as he was still able to, praying for it to stop, and Ward finally blew his load with a grunt. He rested his entire weight on Bucky’s back, sweaty and panting. His men whistled and applauded, calling Bucky a slut, a fine piece of ass.

“Look at that,” Agent Ward said. He pulled out with a smug expression and wiped off the fresh blood that was running down his fingers on the other man’s cheek. “You’re disgusting.”

Bucky shuddered. Not once did he regret his choice to save the children from these monsters. Not once. 

Yes, he had bled, and cried, and pleaded with them when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore but in the end, he managed to win the game by a cheat. Most of the sounds he made were swallowed by the rotten piece of fabric in his mouth.

---

When they were finally satisfied, Ward and his goons packed up and left the hut without a fuss, taking their guns and the mocking sound of laughter with them.

Bucky waited until they were out of sight and he heard the roaring of the jet’s engine before he got up from the table, his movements sluggish and pained, mindful not to expose himself to the children’s traumatized eyes any more than he already had.

The first limping step was torture, a nauseating ache, sharp and alarming like his insides had been shredded by glass. Bucky groaned and took a deep breath. With some difficulty, he managed to pull out the spit-soaked cloth in his mouth without gagging and rapped the rest of the ripped Shuka tight around his violated body.

Exhausted and barely holding onto his own sanity, wobbling on shaking legs, he let himself sink to the floor where he stood. Bucky sat besides a puddle of his own blood and flith, hunched over in pain, and couldn’t bring himself to look at the evidence of what had happened. He also couldn’t curl up into a ball like he wanted to yet. Not with an audience. 

“The game’s over,” Bucky whispered. He didn’t recognize his own voice.

The hut was dead-quiet. No one said a word.

“Don’t you understand? We’re safe now. They’re gone.”

Nothing. It seemed as if the children were too afraid to even move from their place at the wall, probably frozen in shock. When Bucky picked up his head to face them, they stared at him from across the room, eyes wide in horror and confusion. It made him feel dirty and wrong. 

Bucky sighed and rubbed at his face, hoping to wipe away some of the mess, the smeared blood, and sweat, and dried tears there. “I’ve got an idea,” he said. “Why don’t we practice counting from 100 backwards out loud, huh?”

There was no reaction. 

“No? I know you can do it. Come on. You can talk now. Try it with me. 100... 99, 98...”

The kids stayed silent and kept looking at him like a creature of hell, a manifestation of their nightmares, their gaze fixed on the blood on his clothes, and his legs, and the wretched table. Bucky’s eyes stung. He tried to blink away the flare of shame and disappointment. His relationship with the children had given him so much joy. Now it was just another thing Hydra had ruined for him...

Suddenly, the youngest girl, Arih, started to count. “97,” she whispered to the others in a small voice. Bucky called her ‘Little Miss Brave’ because she loved to ride his goats like a military commander going into battle. “96, 95, 94...” She seemed to gain more confidence with every number, her sweet voice rising in volume. Bucky was so proud. “Yenzele yona!” she said. Do it for him. “93, 92...”

One child after the other joined in. Even the young boys followed suit after a while. They repeated the whole exercise 3 times with little mistakes. Rather impressive. Their eagerness broke something in Bucky. What it was he couldn’t say. 

“Great. Wonderful. You did well. Now go home,” Bucky told them, his voice scraped raw. “Go. Do what I tell you for once in your life, alright? We’re done. Go home. All of you. Hamba!” Go.

Tamia picked up her cousin T’Waki’s little hand and together they ran outside. The unmowed grass swolled the sound of their footsteps. 

The other kids followed soon, leaving only the quiet behind. 

---

“Bucky, did they—”

“They didn’t touch the kids.”

“That’s not what I’m asking and you know it!” Steve’s voice wavered. He’d come back from his mission tired but victorious, only 3 and a half hours too late. There, hiding away in their home, Captain America found his boyfriend exactly how Hydra had left him - bloody and defiled. 

Bucky had given himself the exact time it took to count from 0 to 2110 to fall apart after the kids had left. Then he began to clean up the blood and spunk and broken glass from the table and wiped the floor like nothing had happened. He ignored the inevitable sting, the cramping and trickle-down of fluids between his legs with every step as he got to work. The serum would take care of the rest soon enough. 

He hadn’t managed to change or wash himself yet when Steve came inside. In truth, he had completely forgotten about it, forgotten about his partners impeding arrival. No wonder Steve was appalled by the state he was in... Or maybe it was all about Hydra. 

“It was Ward, Grant Ward and his men,” Bucky said, voice thin and raspy. “I knew him from before. You might, too, actually. He was an undercover agent at S.H.I.E.L.D. who used to train as my handler. The kids— They were playing outside when they came...” 

“Listen—”

“They didn’t touch them. I made sure of it. I cooperated. I was good. They...” Bucky took a deep shuddering breath. “The kids will be alright.”

“Buck...”

“They’re ok. So, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, Bucky! Jesus... Just look at yourself! You’re bleeding through your goddamn clothes!”

Bucky wrapped the rest of his Shuka tighter around himself and gathered up the pillows and blankets with muddy bootprints on them to throw them in the hamper, groaning under the strain. “It’s nothing. It’ll heal.”

“Buck? Listen....” Steve tried gentler, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder where the metal socket was, hesitating when his partner flinched away from his touch as if he’d been struck. “We’re going to the hospital. Alright? We’re going to get you checked out. Right now. Someone’s gotta take care of—”

“No. No hospitals. No doctors.”

Steve looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. 

“What?” Bucky raised his chin in defiance, daring him to disagree, to say anything. He stubbornly tried to project more confidence than he really felt as his traitorous body quivered. “This isn’t my first rodeo and you know it. Just leave it alone.”

“We’re not done talking about this! You’re not thinking straight. I’m— I’m calling T’challa,” Steve announced. “They need to figure out how the hell they got in!”

He strode towards the back of the hut were the communication beads were stored in a hurry. Then suddenly, he stopped, bumping his fist against the wall. It shook with the impact. “Goddamn it! I thought the Wakandan border was secure!” 

Bucky started laughing. He just couldn’t help it. It sounded hollow and wrong, an ugly cackle echoing in the small space. “Oh my god... Nothing’s ever fucking secure, Steve! Don’t you get it? Hydra’s everywhere! As long as they’re around I’ll never be fucking safe! Not anywhere—”

There was a commotion in front of the hut and they both froze. 

A woman’s voice called out to them, sounding vaguely familiar. “Ingcuka emhlophe!” White Wolf. “Ingcuka!”

Probably a parent. 

“Fuck!” Bucky exclaimed. 

Running his fingers through his tousled hair and clutching at his shredded clothes which were still soaked in blood, he seemed to notice his own state for the first time. His frantic eyes met Steve’s, like a deer in the headlights, filling with desperate tears. 

“Help me!” he whispered, low enough not to be overheard by anyone who wasn’t a super soldier. “Please...”

Fill: The Quiet Game (6/?)

[devildears]

On to the aftermath. ;) Thanks for the encouragement. This got longer than I had originally planned.

Bucky’s wet eyes were pleading with his partner. “Are you listening? Steve!”

He grabbed the other man’s arm urgently and pulled him closer with panicked force. “She can’t see me like this!” 

“Incguka!” the woman called again. “Ukhona na?” Are you there? 

“The blankets!” Steve sprang into action. He ran over to the hamper, turned it around, and emptied their entire laundry onto the floor. Searching through it frantically while Bucky watched, he grabbed the grey wool blanket with the least noticeable footprints.

“Here. Let me—” 

Bucky extended his arm, self-conscious about the exposure as the ripped Shuka slid further down his body without the support. Thankfully, Steve didn’t take the time to look too closely. Instead, he wrapped the blanket fast and efficiently around Bucky like a cocoon. 

When he was finished Steve took an assessing step back. “There,” he said. “That’s better.”

Bucky agreed with him but didn’t move from his spot, unsure how to proceed in his state.  

“You want me to get rid of her?” Steve asked, ready to take the assignment, any assignment that gave him something to do. 

“No, she’s not gonna leave. I have to go to her. I think I know who she is.”

Steve nodded. “Wait here.”

He ripped a pack of wet wipes out of the cabinet and started to dab at Bucky’s sullied face, unhesitant but mindful of his cuts and broken nose. 

“Ingcuka!” 

Steve continued to wipe the blood from Bucky’s lips with a tortured expression. 

“One moment! Damn it... Ndiyeza!” Bucky called out. I’m coming.

When Steve finally paused to judge wheather he was satisfied with the state of Bucky’s appearance like some sort of expert, his boyfriend pushed the offending wipe aside and waddled outside the hut slowly, like an old man, ignoring the sharp sting and disgusting trickle between his legs that he didn’t want to think about. 

He blinked against the low light of the setting sun which blinded his red-rimmed eyes and faced his visitor.

Bucky had guessed correctly. 

It was Shila - Arih’s mom. 

She rushed past Steve who tried to place himself in front of Bucky like a shield without success and threw herself in his arms. Bucky flinched and tried to keep his filthy body off of her. He probably reeked of blood, and sweat, and dried come but she didn’t seem to notice. 

“You took care of my baby!” she cried in English, her pronounciating flawless enough to fool a native speaker. “You saved her!”

“I—I...” Bucky stuttered, completely overwhelmed. He could hardly stand. 

Steve put a hand on her shoulder, trying to persuade her to let go. “Ma’am? Ma’am! Now is not the right time!”

She didn’t listen. “Usikelelke! Usikelelke!” Bless you, she repeated again and again, completely ignoring Steve’s looming presence. “Usikelelke! Oh, Ingcuka! What did they do to you? Are you hurt?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Bucky said, dismissing her with false bravado and the bad imitation of a crooked smile. “I’m fine.” 

Judging by the look on her face it had lost its charm entirely. She didn’t buy a word he said. 

“She told me what they did! I couldn’t believe it... Who was it?” Shila asked, pulling away at arms length to take in his appearance, eyes skittering over the blood on his bare feet which peaked out beneath the blanket and flying up to his face and the bruises that were forming around his neck without a doubt. 

In other circumstances Bucky would have been proud of Arih’s communication skills - but not this time. He hadn’t let himself think about the possibility of the parents knowing about the extend of his violation, too. The thought turned his stomach. 

“It’s nothing,” Bucky told her with a brave face. He wanted to run and hide. “I swear. Ndilungile.” I’m ok.

“Who was it?” Shila asked again gravely like she meant to murder all of Hydra herself. She reached out and took his unwashed hand in his. A few splinters from the table were still stuck there but Bucky was afraid he might crush her if he pulled away with too much force, so he held on as lightly as he could without breaking her hand.

He sighed, suddenly riddled by horrible guilt. “I’m sorry Ma’am. They’re... They were men I used to know. Bad men. I’m so sorry that your daughter got caught up in that! I will never forgive myself—”

“Iphosakelo!” Nonsense. She shushed him with a finger to his lips which he had bitten bloody earlier in order to stifle his own screams. “She told me you protected them all! She told me what you did for them! The game...” 

“Game?” Steve asked under his breath. Bucky shook his head. He couldn’t talk about this now.

“Thank you! I will never forget what you did for my daughter!” Shila said, tears springing from her eyes. “Never! Ndi thembisa!” I promise. 

She pressed his hand once again and let go.

“Ma’am?” Steve tried again. Sensing an opportunity, he put his arm around her like a gentleman and steered her away from Bucky gently. “We’re glad that your daughter is alright but you need to leave now. Don’t you see? He needs to rest.”

She nodded understandingly and let him move her, taking another polite step back. “I just came to express my gratitude. He’s a good man. He did an honorable thing.” 

‘Honorable?’ Bucky thought incredulously, surpressing the hysterical urge to laugh again. ‘You just thanked me for getting raped.’

Steve must have thought the same thing. Nevertheless, he gave her his most-convincing fake Captain America smile and turned her around slowly. “Thank you, ma’am. We’ll take it from here.”

“Of course,” Bucky heard her say as Steve walked her further away in the opposite direction of their property, “but I will come back tomorrow. You take care of him! If he needs anything, you let me know! He’s family now. Family!” 

“I get it,” Steve said. “I’ll tell him.”

He accompanied her to the outer edge of the goat fence and further down the road. When he was sure that she would stay out of sight, well on her way back to her daughter, he turned around and ran up to their little hut as fast as he could, eager to be at Bucky’s side again. 

By the time he arrived, Bucky sat on the floor in front of their home, his back leaning against the clay wall. Silent tears were falling from his eyes, soaking the blanket in a darker grey. He seemed to be too tired to pick up his head. 

“Help me get out of this?” Bucky requested weakly without looking up, voice threatening to break on every word. He pulled on the blanket like it was suffocating him. 

“Of course,” Steve said. “Whatever you need, Buck. Whatever you need.” 

---

Steve shouldered the free-standing bathtub that used to be connected to the sewage system behind their home and dragged it to the place where they normally slept. The delicate net of pipes had been damaged when he’d dismantled it carelessly but Steve counted his losses. Pipes could be fixed. Bucky on the other hand...

Steve hadn’t managed to convince his partner to go to the hospital, treat his wounds or wash himself outside under the open sky no matter what he said. Bucky didn’t want to risk being seen by anyone - least of all by another parent - so Steve had to come up with a different solution he could live with.

He cursed himself for not being home sooner. If he had been he would have died before letting them touch a hair on Bucky's head again. Poor Bucky who had suffered so much already. They wouldn't have come within 10 feet of him before they lay dead on the ground. 

Now, it was too late and there was no one left to fight, no battle to win. All he could do with his supersoldier strength was to take care of his partner’s injuries and help him through the trauma. Steve was going to take care Bucky for as long as he had to. If it came to that he'd personally wash and feed and change Bucky until the day he died without complaining.

He wondered though, if they were bound to play this horrible game for all eternity - Steve letting Bucky down, them losing each other, Bucky paying the price for overcoming death by his own suffering... It had to stop.

When Steve had gotten him back after the snap, he'd sworn to honor their relationship, to enjoy every moment as if it was their last. Then he’d failed again nonetheless, distracted by the struggles of the modern world.

At the time, resurrection had seemed like just another step on their way to overcome fate’s desire to keep them apart. It was a different miracle, a simpler one, that they had found each other in the new century, working their way back from the ice, and the brainwashing, and the various horrors they had faced - but not less impressive. They could do it again. As long as they lived they belonged only to each other. Body and soul. Hydra couldn't change that. No matter how hard they tried.

Steve jogged down to the lake, carrying the big cauldron which Bucky used to cook their meals ‘the traditional way’, and filled it with water. Then he propped it on his head and ran back as fast as he could without spilling too much. He failed two times, having to reload it after a misstep in his clumsiness. Steve’s enhanced body wouldn’t stop shaking with grief and anger about the assault, about Hydra and his own mistakes. What kind of a person could do something so vile to another? 

Once he had managed to carry the water inside the hut, Steve hooked the chains of the cauldron into their reinforced mount over the fire and heated it. Bucky still sat on the floor besides the table where Steve had put him, clutching the blanket that surrounded his body, staring into nothing. 

“Bucky? Buck?” Steve tried, squatting down beside him. “How hot do you want it?” 

Bucky kept staring. Steve thought he hadn’t understood and was ready to give up when he looked up suddenly, expression grim. “Boiling.” 

Steve winced. He nodded but disregarded the request. Bucky didn’t mean it. He waited until the water was warm enough to bathe his hand in it comfortably, then he emptied it into the tub and got their biggest towel from the closet, a dark blue color that would hopefully mask the blood stains. He placed it on a wooden chair and faced his partner. 

“Are you ready?” he asked Bucky gently, keeping his voice down. “Still don’t want a doctor?” 

“Nah,” Bucky said. “They can’t help me now. I just want to be clean.” 

Steve sighed. “OK...” He circled around and got behind Bucky, carefully telegraphing his movements beforehand so he wouldn’t spook him and pulled him to his feet. Then he began to unwrap the folded blanket.

He was barely halfway done when Bucky stopped him. 

“I can do it myself. Turn around,” he ordered in a strict tone, wavering only slightly at the end. 

Steve swallowed hard. “Buck, whatever it is... I don’t care how it looks, ok?” 

“I do,” Bucky said tightly, suppressed anger flaring up in his voice. “Turn around!” And then softer. “Please...” 

Steve obliged and turned his back. He heard Bucky groan with the effort of removing the blanket from his abused body one-handedly, followed by the dull sound of fabric hitting the ground, then a sharp hiss, a whimper, and the sloching of water. 

“Can I turn around now?” Steve asked softly. 

“If you have to.” 

With Bucky’s permission, Steve turned on his heel and froze. His blue eyes widened in shock. The water Bucky sat in was colored in an alarming deep red like he was bleeding to death in there. His jaw was clenched in pain. Mere sitting was agony apparently...

Steve was going to say something, anything to make this better, when Bucky threw a rumpled piece of cloth in his direction, the remains of his undercoat. Steve caught it by reflex.

“I’m not dying. The serum’s gonna work soon,” Bucky said. “Now get rid of this.” 

Steve held the fine material of the ruined Shuka in his hands - torn, wet, and stained with blood and bodily fluids and stared at it in horror. 

“What?” Bucky asked, exasperated. “What is it?”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna press charges?” Steve asked again, for the forth or fifth time that day. He couldn’t tell. “It doesn’t have to be now.” 

“I’m sure.” 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled audibly, swallowing his guilt. “Alright, fine but if you change your mind, there’s a bunch of witnesses who could testify—” 

Bucky’s clenched fist hit the water, splashing some of the red over the edge in rippling waves.

“No! Hell no! Will you give it a rest? They’re already traumatized! I’m not gonna put a bunch of kids through a rape trial! Jesus Christ!”

Steve closed his eyes until he could voice his next question more calmly. “Then what do you want to do?” he asked with as much understanding as he could muster. 

Bucky took some time to answer.

“I want to find them,” he said, blinking rapidly against the raging tears in his eyes. He wiped them away harshly, disregarding the splinters in the palm of his hand and traced the cut the shattered picture frame had left on his cheek. 

Resting the back of his head against the ceramic edge, a strange contrast of dark brown and white against the bloody water, Bucky looked to the ceiling as if he could see his tormentor’s faces there.

“I want to hunt them down and I want to kill them slowly, every single one of them, alright?” 

Steve nodded grimly, his expression dark but determined.

“Where do we start?

Fill: The Quiet Game (7/?)

[devildears]

A week went by and Bucky still winced with every false step. The serum took its bloody time, the advanced healing setting in later than usual. It worried Bucky. He thought he should be fully recovered by now, up and ready to take his revenge for his own stuffering and more importantly, everything Hydra had put the children through but it wasn't that easy. It never was.

He still hated Ward and the others for what they had done, hated them with a burning passion that simple words couldn’t express but Steve was worse. Day by day the change became more obvious and therefore harder to ignore. The less Steve felt the need to take care of Bucky, the more he obsessed about finding his rapists. He was looking for clues from dusk till dawn until the light of the oil lamp burned out, researching likely Hydra strong holds outside the Wakandan border to sniff out Ward and his men. Like a blood hound with a scent. 

Steve’s anger burned brightest in the night and Bucky didn’t know how to put out the flame. The usual tactic to calm down a super soldier with an itch to scratch, tried and tested, was sex. The problem was that Steve was too stubborn to take Bucky up on his offer every single time. He didn’t want to hurt him, told him he was still healing and traumatized goddamn it. It was a mess.

So instead of getting laid and actively doing something against the fact that Grant Ward was still the last person who had been inside of him, Bucky watched Steve stare at the table in their little hut for two nights in a row. He might have let some details slip in an ill-advised attempt to explain his own need to get back at Hydra after he’d sworn he’d never fight them again, focused only on moving on with his life and his recovery. A huge mistake as it turned out. Hydra was like a cancer - bound to get inside of you no matter how hard you cried. So when Steve stared and stared at the table, as if it was gonna disappear if he tried hard enough, he didn’t say anything about it (like ‘yes ladies and gentlemen, this is the exact piece of furniture they raped me on’). It hurt. 

On the third day, after a sleepless night, Steve picked up the axt and slaughtered the poor creaking thing in the middle of the living room, wood splinters flying everywhere. Bucky watched him do it without interfering, keeping a save distance. When it was over, Steve assembled the corpse with his bare hands, splinters digging deeply into the flesh of his palms and threw it into the fire. 

‘You’re only gonna hurt yourself,’ Bucky almost told him but thought better of it. Steve was entitled to a little part of his pain, too. 

---

Bucky missed his relatives. Steve wasn‘t sure wheather he realized it himself but when he first came back to Wakanda to find Bucky surrounded by a flock of over-excited children, running around and teaching them how to throw a ball, he immediately thought of Becca and what she would have to say to all of this.

When Steve came back from the ice he realized that the Barnes family had grown beyond his wildest imagination. Thanks to Bucky’s sister Rebecca who had raised 7 children in the course of her long and happy life in their absence, 5 of Bucky’s nieces and nephews had their own families now, a flock of screaming joy. There were children of all ages, some little babies still. 

Bucky loved babies and yet, he had never been to see them. “You wouldn’t understand,” he told Steve when he tried to get him to stop by - at least on Christmas eve. He pointed at himself, an unhappy, self-depricating smile. “I can’t bring this shitshow to their table.” 

No, instead of dealing with his problems like an adult and maybe some therapy, Bucky had decided to adopt and become some sort of legendary foster father figure called the ‘White Wolf’. He felt responsible for all the children here which he had no blood relation to whatsoever. It was easier somehow. That was why he’d stayed behind when Steve left to hunt down a bunch of mercenaries who sold Vibranium weapons to arms dealers and let the love of his life down. 

“You’re always asking me not to go,” Steve argued. “If I‘d come home sooner, if I’d just stayed here with you like you asked me to, maybe...”

“I’d love to turn this into another argument about your savior complex,” Bucky interjected, passing him by and letting their dirty plates fall into the sink with an alarming clank, “but there’s nothing you could have done, Steve. I did what I had to—”

“Actually,” Steve cut him off, expression stormy, “you didn't have to! You could have killed them all where they stood! You decided NOT TO. There's a difference.”

Bucky’s hand grabbed the sink like an anchor. He closed his eyes with a deep sigh and shook his head at Steve like he was the unreasonable one. “They had guns on us, Steve. I told you...”

“You decided that the children were worth more than yourself and you let them— You...”

“You're right,” Bucky announced calmly, as calm as he could manage under the circumstances, “I chose the children. I chose them over myself and I would do it again.”

Steve stood up abruptly and left. Otherwise he might have said some things he would later regret. 

---

Bucky sat outside under the old Marula tree, resting his back against it. His eyes were closed. A few beams of the hot Wakandan sun fell through the shelter of the foliage and danced on his face. A breeze played with his hair, cooling his overheated skin. 

18 hours had passed since their argument and Steve still hadn’t come back. 

“Bucky?” he heard little Arih call out softly. “Ingcuka?” 

Bucky breathed deeply and opened his eyes to greet her with a pained smile. She wouldn’t go away if he feigned sleep now. Not this one. Too smart for her own good.

“Hi there.”

Arih ran up to him, her small steps carrying her like the wind. She sat down beside him eagerly. Bucky tried to relax as her little shoulder pressed against his arm, skin to skin, concentrating on his core, his inner peace. He didn’t move away. 

“Mama sent me. She told me we should play again.”

Bucky paused. “Are you sure that’s what she said?”

“Yes I'm sure, silly.”

Silly... Ever since she had learned that word from Steve, overhearing his phone call with Sam and the other Avengers, she applied it to everything. Silly goat, silly tree, silly food, silly brothers, silly Bucky.

“You know it's ok if you don't want to see me anymore, right?” he asked her meekly, ignoring the protesting twinge of his heart that wasn't ready to hear the answer yet.

He took another deep breath and waited, watching her from the corner of his eye. Arih poked a basalt stone with that stick she always carried, rolling it around on the ground. Her young eyes stayed fixed on it as it was moved this and that way, mute and helpless against the force, brows drawn together in a frown.

“Why would I not want to see you anymore?”

Bucky felt himself tense and concentrated on breathing more regularly, in and out, monitoring the signs of her apparent discomfort closely. 

“Because of the game. I know you still remember that. These men... They were there because of me. They scared you.”

“Mama said it was wrong what they did.” She looked up, suddenly distressed. “Why did they do that? Why did they hurt you?”

“I don't know,” Bucky said, then he changed his mind and cleared his throat. She deserved to be treated like an adult after what she went through. “Sometimes... People are just cruel. They don't need a reason. They just like to— They hurt others because they want to. Because they can.”

“Did we make too much noise?” she asked with a guilty expression. “I’m sorry. We didn't mean to—”

Bucky’s heart broke for her. He swallowed hard to fight back the tears that would come too easy these days and embraced her with one arm, ignoring the spiteful voice in his head that told him he shouldn't touch her, that he didn’t deserve to be with the children anymore after what he’d done to them, drawing horror with his presence. 

“Oh no, sweetheart. It wasn’t your fault. You mustn’t think like that. They just... There’s nothing you could have done.”

“I'm still sorry,” she told him abashedly.

“I am, too. But you really don't have to feel guilty. You did great. I promise.”

Bucky let go of her. She didn’t say anything for a while, still frowning like she was waiting for some kind of epiphany. Then she poked him in the ribs with the stick. 

“Are you sure?” she asked, with a new-found sense of irony, parroting his earlier question back to him. 

Bucky nodded and tried to assure her with the approximation of an encouraging smile that hurt his cheeks. “I'm sure. You’re perfect.”

Arih stopped poking him and clapped her hands together. “Do you want to play Miss Mary Mack then?” she asked hopefully, changing the subject with bright sparkling eyes, the way only a child could.

Bucky raised his hand. The children knew that he didn't like to use a prosthetic unless he went on missions (which he never did as long as T’challa didn’t personally ask him to) so they had adapted the clapping method for him by using the palm and back of his hand as a substitute for left and right.

He smiled at her, honestly this time, and let it reach his eyes. “I'd love to.”

---

“I think I found something,” Steve whispered in the dark. 

Bucky didn’t startle, too familiar with the owner of the voice to register as a threat. He turned around to face Steve on the mat, a dull twinge in his abdomen as he put one thigh above the other. Probably a phantom pain.

“Ward?” he asked under his breath as if not to disturb the peace and quiet. The name tasted like poison on his tongue.

“I’m not sure but I think so.” 

Steve removed his shirt that smelled faintly of sweat, proof that he’d spent the better part of the day outside. He folded it neatly only to unfold it again and threw it vaguely in the direction of the laundry hamper. 

“Hm...” Bucky murmured, buying time. “Well... If it’s him, we can’t underestimate what he’s capable of. He’s ruthless, smart, strong, well-trained, a perfect shot. One of Hydra’s top 10...”

“I know that,” Steve said. “I worked with him once.”

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath. “Yeah, I figured.” 

“I— I wish—”

“Pierce once told me that S.H.I.E.L.D. gave him the highest marks for espionage since Natasha left the academy,” Bucky went on undeterred, unwilling to let Steve guilt-trip himself any further. “He’ll be expecting us, so we can’t come unprepared.” 

“I’m sorry I said those things,” Steve whispered, letting Bucky wait him out to sort through his feelings. “I shouldn’t have. It was aweful. Please forgive me? I didn’t mean any of that. I’m just so...”  

Bucky sighed. “I get it. You’re angry. I’m angry, too.”

“We’ll train,” Steve promised as he layed down on their makeshift bed besides Bucky and faced him, propped up on his elbow. “We’ll tackle every possible outcome and we’ll do it together. They won’t get away this time.” 

It was hard to make out his lover’s face in the dark but Bucky could hear the change in his voice regardless. Some kind of acceptance and the assurance of a workable plan. 

“Welcome back,” he said to Steve, heart full of gratitude and sadness. 

Steve leaned forward and gave him a chaste kiss on the forhead, pressing his lips against it. Bucky could feel a bunch of silent tears fall on his cheek. 

“You, too.” 

Fill: The Quiet Game (8/?)

[devildears]

“Faster,” Bucky ordered, dodging Steve’s imbalanced punch at his side. “Faster!”

Steve sidestepped and tried to hit him with the Shield again, staggering slightly. His suit was drenched in sweat. They’d been at it for hours, going round and round in circles, each one trying to gain the upper hand in a play fight.

In the beginning, Steve had pulled his punches, expecting his partner to be slow and vulnerable with his recent injuries and the emotional trauma of the assault. Bucky taught him a better one. He didn’t seem to mind a little forceful touching. In fact, he welcomed it, reveling in the close proximity of Steve’s body and the intimate touches that came with sparring.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Come on, I know you can do better,” he sighed and countered effortlessly, kicking Steve in the chin. He hadn’t bothered with a suit, going for a light T-shirt and loose fitting jeans instead. “You’re already stronger than him but you gotta be both.” 

No, Bucky loved a challenge, thrived on it, compensating for his missing arm with agility like it was an advantage he had over Steve instead of a handicap. Maybe it was. He was harder to catch, rarely distracted and not giving an inch. Steve learned his lesson quickly: Holding his own and coddling his boyfriend at the same time wasn’t working

While Bucky had gone through a terrible ordeal at Hydra’s hands, he still benefitted from the intense focus and concentration of the Winter Soldier, his unbound strength and tactical thinking. The disturbingly high pain endurance handelnd the rest. Steve, in his naivety, was letting Bucky wipe the floor with him. 

“You’re not making this easy,” Steve grunted.

“Nope.”

Bucky tackled him, barefoot, kicking Steve’s stupidly exposed legs out from under him as he went. It worked like a charm. Steve tended to forget about his own cover when he had the shield, concerned with the offense rather than his defense, hard-hitting and always with an element of surprise. Typical for him. He tried to win every fight by giving his all without a proper exit strategy - which was usually where Bucky came in. 

This time, Steve got lucky. He instinctively grabbed Bucky’s ankle as he fell to the ground and held on, taking his boyfriend down with the momentum. They landed on the sun-burned grass together in a tangle of limbs, breathing heavily. 

“The damn shield is a weakness when it comes to hand to hand. You know that right?” Bucky panted, hair fanned out around his face like a halo.

“I know,” Steve groaned, holding his ribs where Bucky’s right knee had landed. “So you keep keep telling me.”

He stayed down where he was, chest heaving with exhaustion. “But I don’t wanna miss out on the satisfaction of smashing Ward’s face in with it.” 

Bucky snorted sarcastically. “For that you’d have to beat him first.” 

Steve rolled over onto his side and into a sitting position. He smudged the dirt on his face with the back of his hand which... Made him look strangely attractive. Bucky decidedly didn’t stare.

Steve pushed to his feet, extending one hand generously, like he wasn’t such a sore loser. “I think it’s time we took a break, wouldn’t you say?” 

“You’re tapping out already? Lazy ass...” Bucky grumbled but he took Steve’s hand gladly and let himself be pulled upright.

As he went inside, Steve murmured something that sounded suspiciously like ‘thank fucking God’ thrown in with something even more blasphemous along the lines.

“Hey!”

Steve ignored Bucky and patted his sweaty face with a fluffy white towel, inhaling its fresh soapy scent like it was an oxygen mask. 

“Stop taking the Lord’s name in vain,” Bucky scolded, smacking the back of his big head slightly, as he followed him inside. “What would your mother say?” 

Steve gave him the finger.

In truth, neither one of them could really speculate what Sarah Rogers would have thought about their behavior, especially about the cohabitating and questionable sexual practices under their roof. She never found out about the nature of their relationship, taken before her time by an illness she was exposed to at the hospital, but Bucky hoped she might have understood it somehow once she learned about it from the afterlife. 

There was more space in the hut now with the tub back outside where it was supposed to be and the new table Steve had built after demolishing the old one in a fit of rage, or guilt, or whatever Steve had been feeling at the time. It was about half the size, just big enough for two.

Bucky couldn’t handle guests right now anyways. The few children who were still aloud to come over unsupervised (like T’Waki, Arih and Tamia) waited outside the hut politely when they came to play with him. It seemed to be an unspoken agreement between Bucky and the kids. Maybe they were scared of his home now with everything that had happened there or maybe having them here brought back too many memories for Bucky. Steve didn’t ask him about it. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to complain about the new privacy. Not at all. He just wished it had come under different circumstances. 

Relieved about the break, Steve unzipped his tight combat outfit at the back and freed his sweat-drenched body out of its cevlar prison. He let the suit fall to the floor and stepped out of the pant legs at his feet, completely naked. 

Bucky watched him from a distance as a drop of sweat made its way down his lover’s back slowly. He had the sudden urge to lick the salt from his skin.

“Underwear is mission imperative you know?” Bucky heard himself utter, throat strangely dry. 

“It’s too hot outside for that,” Steve retorted and turned around.

Bucky’s eyes widened. He felt himself blush and straightened his back, watching his partner’s intimate area in appreciation. Steve’s cock had filled out significantly during their little exercise, standing at half mast. It wasn’t unusual for him to get excited in combat situations, all those pent-up hormones and adrenaline. 

It was different for Bucky. He still had the serum enhanced libido but had painstakingly trained himself not to get hard. Not visibly at least. It had never ended well for him during his time in captivity. 

Steve watched him nervously, scanning Bucky’s face like the cover of a book. Suddenly, he turned away and covered himself with his towel, looking apologetic. “Sorry, I’m gonna go change real—”

“Don’t!” Bucky squeaked, maybe a little too high and forceful to keep his dignity. 

Steve froze and turned back towards him deliberately. Without taking his eyes off of Bucky, he placed the towel on the counter and cocked an eyebrow, watching the hungry look in his boyfriend’s eyes. He swallowed hard. “You really want to?” 

Bucky licked his lips, arousal and nerves fighting for the upper hand. “Yes,” he said.

Steve looked conflicted. He didn’t move from his spot yet, waiting still, sizing Bucky up and searching his face. “Are you sure?” 

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Bucky stepped closer, close enough to touch if he just reached out. “I’m sure.”

His hand found Steve’s. Summoning all his courage, he looked deeply into his partner’s eyes. “Kiss me.”

Steve’s nervous expression changed into something softer. He smiled warmly and reached out. With one hand on Bucky’s good shoulder, he bridged the distance and kissed Bucky full on the lips, first chaste then with more confidence when he didn’t flinch or pull away. 

“Like this?” he asked, alternating between real, hungry kisses and soft affectionate presses to Bucky’s lips, and nose, and cheeks. 

Bucky sighed and bit Steve’s lips in warning, returning the kiss heatedly. “More. Don’t overthink it.”

Steve oblidged. He kissed Bucky with everything he got and walked them backwards slowly, presumably angling to get them to lay down on their makeshift bed to the right. He never stopped touching Bucky and sucking on his tongue, moaning like a drowning man. It had been a while and although Steve was clearly holding back, his desire was imminent. 

Bucky let himself be moved until unexpectedly, the edge of something hard dug into his spine. Cold and relentless. Too familiar. 

His breathing stopped. 

“Wait,” Bucky said panicked, pushing at Steve and keeping him at a safe distance with one hand against his chest. “Don’t...”

Steve froze immediately and took a careful step back, showing his palms in surrender. “What? Did I do something?”

“No. Just... Not on the table, alright?” Bucky whispered, feeling silly for getting hung up on such a thing. 

Steve’s face fell. He nodded, expression pained, and reached out tentatively. He took Bucky’s face in his right hand with a gentleless fit for cracked porcelain and caressed his lover’s cheek reverently with his thumb.

“Of course not. We’ll do whatever you want, Buck. Nothing else. You’re in complete control here.” 

It was weird. Bucky knew that Steve would never pressure him into anything he didn’t want to do, at least not in the bedroom (their professional relationship was more complicated than that), but he felt strangely relieved at his words nonetheless. Steve wasn’t like Ward and the others. He’d never hurt him like that. Now, Bucky’s body needed to accept that, too, and get with the program.

He breathed in deeply and hugged Steve close, chest to chest, feeling the familiar warmth of his skin until the misplaced fear and anxiety went away.

Bucky gave his partner a loop-sided smile and rolled his eyes. “Moment’s over, Stevie,” he retorted shakily. “Don’t kill the mood. Take me to bed already.” 

Steve shook his head fondly and did just that. He picked Bucky up without hesitation, going slowly but touching him with a firm grip, certain that he could take his weight. Steve’s strong arms supported his boyfriend’s muscular thighs as he lifted him in the air.

With Bucky’s legs still covered by the rough fabric of his jeans and wrapped around Steve’s body, Steve strode to the other side of the room and lowered Bucky down on the soft blankets, careful not to drop him.

Bucky turned his head and looked at the rumpled bedding. The fabric was a washed-out green color now, like the grass outside. They had thrown the old ones with the dirty footprints, and the blood, and the bad memories out as fast as they could. 

Steve joined him on the floor. “How do you want—” 

“You want it wet or dry?” Ward’s heinous voice whispered in his head. An echo of the same damned question they had made him answer like it was all Bucky’s choice before they— Before they...

“...Bucky? Are you alright?”

Out of reflex, Bucky placed his hand over Steve’s mouth and shook his head vehemently. The other man searched his eyes, brows drawn together. Then he nodded, understanding and horror dawning on his face. 

“Sorry, I’m—” Bucky took his hand away at once and shrugged his shoulders apologetically. “Just don’t say it like that, ok? I want you inside me. I’d like that,” he said with a slightly desperate edge to it, “it’s ok if you don’t though. I’d understand it if you’d never—”

Steve, bless his heart, didn’t let him finish. Instead, he pulled Bucky closer and shut him up with a passionate kiss, laying everything he couldn’t say into the intimate press of his lips. 

“I want you. I’ll always want you. You know that.”

“Good,” Bucky murmured, suddenly teary eyed, his voice sounding a little higher than normal and rougher, too. “That’s good. Will you get the slick for me?” 

Steve kissed him one last time and went to find their hidden bottle of lube in a cupboard by the sink. 

Bucky wiped his eyes, thankful for the short interruption to gather his thoughts. He removed his shirt and jeans which were probably ruined with grass stains by now unceremoniously, feeling self-conscious in his own skin. It was still hot outside but Bucky felt cold in his nakedness without Steve there to distract him, goosebumps rising on his skin. 

His mind began to wander. Staring up at the ceiling he thought about everything that could go wrong. 

What if he panicked again? What if Steve looked at him down there and saw the scars? What if he was disgusted with them? What if he couldn’t get it up anymore? What if penetration still hurt too much to keep going? Could he keep that from Steve? 

The answer was yes, Bucky could take a lot of pain. He was certain of that. It was a proven fact after all he went through but when he thought about the way it had hurt when Ward had spread his fingers, too many and too fast...

“Ready?” Steve sat down on the mattress bedside him. He settled under the blankets and flicked off the cap of the half-empyy bottle of lube in his hand, the one they had frequently used before all of this, watching Bucky’s face like a test. 

“Yes,” Bucky said again, still wanting to do it but feeling a hell of a lot less sure than he let on. 

Fill: The Quiet Game (8-9/?)

[devildears]

Steve kissed him again. Then he hesitated, biting his own lip. 

“Bucky, are you sure you're healed enough yet? I mean... You're not gonna bleed if we do this, are you?”

Bucky closed his eyes briefly and refused to think about his wounds and how bad it had looked at first. All torn-up and bloody, painful fissures around his abused hole which refused to close on its own... Steve didn’t need to know the gory details. 

“I don't know,” Bucky replied honestly. “We're not gonna find out if you keep acting like a virgin. I've shit showered and shaved down there several times this week. We should be fine.”

Steve frowned mock-disapprovingly, catching up on Bucky’s attempt to infuse an awkward situation with humor and cover for his own insecurity about it. “You couldn’t have put that a little more... I don’t know, Buck. Inviting maybe?” Steve quipped. “Sometimes it’s best to leave a little to the imagination.”

“What, too crass for you?” Bucky reached for Steve’s cock and squeezed, laughing at his startled moan. “Don't lie to me. You're still hard.”

“Fine you got me,” Steve said with a long-suffering sigh. “I’m always up for it.”

“That’s right.” Bucky snorted, then he looked at him more seriously. “All I know is, I'm done letting Hydra dictate my sex life. I want you and I don't care about a little blood.”

Steve smiled. “Then I don't either. Just tell me when it’s too much, ok? We can stop at any time.”

Bucky agreed. “Let's do this.” 

---

Steve took it as a challenge. He spent the better part of an hour worshiping Bucky’s body with his fingers and his mouth, licking and sucking at his filling cock to amp-up his arousal before he got even close to his boyfriend’s hole. Getting hard didn’t turn out to be a problem. 

Finally, when Bucky was about ready to blow, Steve squeezed his thighs and spread his legs.

“Breath, Buck,” Steve said, monitoring him for any signs that would tell him to back off in case it got too much.

When Bucky didn’t tell him to stop or tense any more than had to be expected, all things considered, breathing through the nervous flutter in his belly that warned him some sort of bomb might go off, Steve shifted his gaze and looked at the damage there. 

Discovering the scars, faintly white and pink around Bucky’s entrace in the shape of fractured lightning put a dent in things for a while.

Steve stopped all of his attempts at seduction and just looked at the new skin which had grown over the tearing Ward and his men had caused so carelessly. Their cruel sadism only reassured Steve of the righteousness of his plan to kill them all without remorse as soon as he got the chance. They had it coming. Steve had seen the blood. He remembered it.

How Bucky had managed the initial pain without a doctor despite of his injuries was beyond him. The tearing looked like it must have been in a desperate need for stiches and Steve wondered if Bucky had taken care of it himself somehow when he wasn’t looking. He didn’t dare to ask about it, afraid what Bucky’s answer might be. It couldn’t have been more than a field job anyways, with a regular needle and a thread.

Thankfully, the serum wasn’t too picky about hygiene and finesse in the way it worked. It had mended everything back together in the best possible way, and Steve saw the work of it with equal parts of love and grief. 

“I wonder if you're ever gonna look at me without thinking about it,” Bucky said in a hushed tone. He wouldn’t meet Steve’s eyes, gaze fixed on the ceiling. 

Steve bowed down and kissed him there briefly, lips brushing over the sensitive new tissue. Bucky jumped a bit at the initial contact before he remembered to relax. It didn’t hurt. Not physically at least. 

“I don't know but when I do think about it, it's about how strong you are, how brave and how I'll never let anyone hurt you like that again. Ever.”

Bucky shivered. He felt strangely vulnerable like this, all laid out and broken open on an emotional level. It remembered him of the first time Steve had made love to him, the way he would ‘to a woman’ as they called it back then, in their little apartment in Brooklyn...

Bucky had been giddy all day, unable to sit still at work, thinking about their grand plans for the evening. Some guys at the docks had told him that it hurt. A lot. Even with the vaseline. Maybe Bucky was a pervert but he was certain that he’d still enjoy it as long as Steve was the one doing the hurting.

When he was finally home, lying naked in Steve’s skinny arms, he was a little tense after all, overwhelmed by this feeling of weightlessness, and trust, and a little bit of shame when Steve put his hands where he knew he was clean but still...

Bucky’s ass grabbed onto Steve’s delicate artist fingers so hard he thought he might never me able to let go again. He felt so small under the other man’s gaze who seemed to know exactly where to touch and how to press to make Bucky come apart at the seems. It was terrifying.

“Hey, Stevie? Don't hurt me,” he said without thinking.

“What?”

“Just... Don't hurt me,” Bucky whispered.

Steve chuckled lowly. “It's only gonna hurt if you don't start relaxing,” he quipped. His words had no bite.

He patted Bucky’s thigh reassuringly, unconcerned with the effect every twitch of his fingers had, seeming amused rather than irritated by the over-excited jump of Bucky’s cock and his nervous clenching.

People never guessed it but between the two of them Steve was the more experienced one. He knew what he was talking about. Bucky hadn't gone beyond second base with anyone - girls or boys. He didn't want to when the people who threw themselves at him never quite looked like a certain blonde boy he’d been in love with since middle school.

Steve didn't have the same reservations with men that he had with women. Good girls went to church on Sunday and got married young, boys fooled around a bit first. They didn't call it love. They didn't call it anything. It wasn’t like that. 

“I mean, my heart, ok? I couldn’t stand it.”

“Bucky, I'd never,” Steve assured him, laying a hand over his own chest like he was swearing on the Bible. “Never. You’re my best friend in the whole world.”

After that, Bucky kissed him like it was the last time he’d get the chance. When Steve kissed back, he let go of his fears and relaxed, enjoying the most wonderful experience he’d ever had in his young life. Steve felt wonderful inside of him and he craved the intimate connection of two bodies joined together in ecstasy. It made him want to do it again and again...

“I should have been here for you,” future Steve murmured, cutting Bucky’s reminiscing short. His voice wavered with emotion, looking back and forth betwen Bucky’s scars and his face.

Bucky shook his head, unwilling to have another discussion on the matter while Steve fondled his ass. Thankfully, Steve seemed to get his meaning without further words. 

“OK. I’m sorry... Moving on. Sorry. Does this hurt?” Steve asked before he gently swiped over his hole with the pad of his thumb. 

Bucky sucked in a sharp breath. Finally, he looked away from the ceiling and down to his partner. “No. It’s just... A little tender. Don’t worry about it.” 

Steve caught his eyes again. “I’m gonna do something,” he announced lowly, almost a whisper, “if you don’t like it or it feels wrong you tell me, ok?” 

“OK,” Bucky confirmed. 

Steve bowed his head, disappearing between Bucky’s spread legs where he was so intimately on display and licked over his hole in a broad swipe of his tongue. 

“Fuck!” Bucky cursed, arching off the mattress. Yes, the tender skin was delicate but sensitive enough that the soft touch of Steve’s tongue felt like he was lighting something up inside in him. In a good way this time - not like the sharp bite of the stun baton. 

Steve picked up his head. “That a no? Talk to me.” Judging by the smirk on his face he wasn’t really concerned about the verdict, reading Bucky’s body like an open book. 

Ward and the others would never have done something like this for him. It had been brutal and animalistic, full of pain and dominance instead of tender love and care. If Steve wanted to show him how different he was, how good he could be for Bucky, he was doing a perfect job. 

“Bastard,” Bucky sighed shakily. “You know damn well it isn’t.” 

Steve grinned wolfishly and dove back in.

---

It went smoothly for a while. Bucky got really close to coming just from a little rimming and Steve’s thoroughly lubed finger in his hole but when Steve tried to use more, attempting to insert a second finger along the first, Bucky tensed up terribly. He wasn’t sure if it was purely physical or a psychological side effect of the trauma but there was no give. None at all. No way Steve was gonna fit his dick in there without blunt force and reopening most of Bucky’s injuries. He was a little bigger than three at least. 

Bucky was going to stop him and apologize for offering something he couldn’t follow through but it seemed as if Steve had already given up on the prospect. He’d gone back to one finger unprompted. Penetrative sex was out of the question.

“It’s alright,” Steve said and kissed the inside of Bucky’s upper thigh while his finger stroked over his prostate again, gently. The feeling was still a little dull, possibly muted by internal scaring as well. “We’ve got time. It’s only been a little over a week. Don’t stress about it.” 

Bucky tried not to wallow in his own disappointment. “I just... I don’t want them to be the last people with their dicks inside of me, you know? I want you.” 

Steve nodded understandingly, then he frowned. “But I am inside of you. Right now.” 

“Not with your dick.” 

Steve winked. “Only metaphorically...” 

“What?” Bucky asked and laughed shakily. “What does that even mean?” 

Steve looked at him with a bad pokerface, like he was dead-set on convincing Bucky how serious he took the issue. “My feelings. My metaphorical dick, Buck. Didn’t they teach you anything but skirt chasing?” 

Bucky shoved his face away, laughing enough to dislodge Steve’s finger. “God, I’m glad you’re stupid.” 

“Well,” Steve grinned. “I’m only stupid for you.”

Fill: The Quiet Game (9/?)

[devildears]

They talked about it afterwards, lying safely in each other’s arms. 

“They made you ask for it didn’t they?”

Bucky blew out a breath and pulled the blanket all the way up to his chin. “Yeah. They did. I really... I made a real show out of it, you know? I was hoping they would— do it outside if I was good enough. Somewhere the children wouldn’t see.” 

“But they didn’t?” Steve supplied, eyes filled with hurt. 

Bucky huffed darkly. “I begged them for it. No one would listen.” 

“I’m sorry, Buck—” 

“Not your fault,” Bucky cut him off. 

“Maybe not. But still...” 

“It wasn’t easy, you know?” Bucky went on undeterred. “Not that there’s anything easy about it but... With the children there— They were screaming and crying. It was tough. And Ward told me to make them stop or else...” 

“How did you?”

“I played a game with them when it happened. The quiet game. Do you remember it?” 

Steve frowned. “The one your mother always wanted us to play when she put Becca to bed? To shut us up?” 

“That’s the one.” 

“Yeah, I remember it. Wait... Is that what— What’s her name again? Shia?”

“Shila,” Bucky corrected automatically, used to his role as the mediator between Steve and the Wakandan people.

“Is that what she meant?”

“Yes,” Bucky sighed and them there was an awkward pause with neither of them knowing how to fill the silence. 

“Arih told her. Ward wanted me to keep them quiet because it... You know, distracted them, and I remembered the game,” Bucky continued eventually. “I taught it to them so we could go to the king’s inauguration together and then we kept playing it sometimes so they wouldn’t interefere with my memory exercises. Shuri wanted me to try them at home.” 

“Did it work?”

“The memory exercises?” Bucky asked evasively, already expecting a different answer.

“The game. You know what I mean, Buck. You don’t have to tell me about any of that if you don’t want to. I just want you to know that you can.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind telling you. It’s just— I think I won. They uhm... The kids always do as I do, right? Which is good because... I didn’t scream a lot. They gagged me after the first guy.”

Steve inhaled sharply and looked away.

“Was it worth it?” he asked after a while. “Not fighting back?”

Bucky shot him a dirty look.

Steve raised his hands in surrender. “I don’t wanna pick a fight, I swear. I just wanna know how you feel about it. Honestly.”

“Why?”

“I care about you. That’s why.”

Bucky’s expression softened. He fiddled with the edges of his pillow, lost in thought. 

“I mean... Worth their lives certainly but...” he trailed off. “I don’t know.”

“Do you regret it?” 

Bucky looked at him gravely. “They could have shot me between the eyes instead but I'm still here, aren't I?”

It was clear from the self-depricating twist of his mouth that it didn't feel like a triumph. “I wasn’t gonna leave you behind after everything you did just to get me back.”

Steve took Bucky’s hand in his, holding on tightly. 

“Then I’m glad you survived. I know it’s horrible that you had to go through all of that to do it but... I just want you to know, I’m glad. That you’re still here with me.” 

He pressed a tender kiss to the back of his lover’s hand.

“Me, too,” Bucky said, starting to feel less and less like a liar. “Me, too.” 

Fill: The Quiet Game (10.1/?)

[devildears]

Bucky jostled awake. He couldn’t tell what had alerted him this time, only that he couldn’t get his stupid brain to shut up and sleep more than a couple of hours a night.

Maybe it had been another nightmare. Maybe not.

Bucky squinted and tried to make out the familiar shape of their room in the dark. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary but he wasn't fully convinced yet. Twisting his head to the side, he listened carefully, and...

Still nothing. It was all peaceful and quiet inside the hut - apart from the reliable sound of Steve’s deep breathing in the night. In and out. The blanket moved with the even rise and fall of his chest.

Back in the day, when Steve was still little, Bucky used to worry that he might just up and die in his sleep, stop breathing altogether. He used to wake up in the middle of the night like this, listening to every little intake of air, and when Steve didn’t seem to get enough by Bucky’s standards, or the rhythm became too irregular, he shook him awake, uncaring that it made the little guy raging mad.

It was always worth it in the end and frankly, Bucky was too invested to stop. He even got hit for his troubles once or twice - and not just purely out of reflex as Steve later claimed - until the serum finally took away the transience of their life together. Now that Steve’s imminent death no longer hung over their heads like Damocles’s sword, the world was brighter for it.

Bucky listened again. Still quiet except for his partner’s steady breathing. There was no threat. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed loudly. Thank god.

As expected, instead of waking from the noise, Steve turned over on his other side and snored.

“Wouldn’t become you to get up for anything short of a gunfire, would it, pal?” Bucky whispered.

Steve drooled on the blanket in response, entirely unconscious.

Bucky shook his head at him fondly, watching what he could see of his lover’s blissful face in the dark for a while. He was glad that Steve was starting to sleep through the night again - even if Bucky himself couldn’t.

Continuing the search for Ward in a more reasonable manner, and at a more fitting time of the day, was good for both of them but Steve’s improvement was much more apparent. It made him act like less of an angry zombie and more like the person Bucky loved again. Things were finally starting to look up.

Bucky had been terrified of getting too close to his boyfriend at first, of seeing his reaction to the injuries Hydra had inflicted on him but something had changed when Steve had looked at the scars down there. He hadn't left, hadn't been disgusted - at least not with Bucky.

Maybe they were stronger for it now.

Bucky rolled off the mattress in defeat, knowing that he wasn’t going to fall asleep again any time soon. He stood up almost silently, and went over to the stove to make his beloved Marula tea.

The nutrients in the tree’s bark relieved the constant ache in his shoulder where Zola had drilled screws into his spine to support the metal arm. It often helped with that and other pains.

Bucky could push through almost anything when he had to. He could ignore the unpleasantness of pain, especially when he didn’t want his oblivious partner to notice what was going on because things were finally fun again, but in truth, Bucky’s ass still wasn't right. After the brutal treatment Ward and his men had given him, no careful fingering or enthusiastic rimming on Steve’s side could change that. Not for the lack of trying though.

Bucky had even attempted it solo that one time after Steve’s unsuccessful effort to get him off with his fingers but there was nothing to gain, only an unpleasant buzz from the dead nerves (like the sickening tingle of a numb limb that you couldn’t touch directly without it getting weird) and the unusual tightness that made it tricky to reach his goal on the pleasure front. 

Lately, Bucky wondered if the serum had stitched him up so badly that it had twisted him on the inside. It did that sometimes with bone fractures and other more grueling injuries, just growing things back the wrong way.

The only practical solution in that case was to break what had healed wrong and reset it. Simple as that. They’d done it for each other countless times, only it wasn’t an option in this case.

Even if Steve could technically help him with the problem (because he had the equipment to do some real damage if he went in dry and he loved Bucky enough to offer his left leg for a normal sex life), Bucky wasn’t gonna ask him, or Hydra, or anyone really, to do that to his poor body. Not this, not even with a certified doctor at hand and enough horse tranquilizer to knock him out cold for it. He couldn’t even stomach the thought.

Careful not to spill anything on the floor, Bucky scooped some water from the cauldron with a trowel, and poured it into a cup on the stove to heat it. When everything was ready, he checked the little wooden box which he stored the sweet-scented bark in.

It was empty. The rest of his stash was outside in a hand-molded clay chest which functioned as a small outside-fridge for all kinds of dried food. Easy to get to, but Bucky hesitated. He didn’t feel like waking Steve in the middle of the night, but he also didn’t feel like going outside without telling him where he was going first...

Buying himself some time to think, Bucky sat down on top of the kitchen cabinet with the empty box in hand, letting his feet dangle, and ignored the way it creaked under his weight.

He looked at Steve’s sleeping form again and decided to do it anyways. What was the big risk? T’challa had sworn the border was well-guarded now and he knew that they were scanning for threats with Shuri’s state of the art technology, all day and night. She wasn’t going to let Hydra break in a second time. 

The princess, T’challa had let them know, felt responsible for what had happened. She hadn’t been to see them in person yet but she had sent Bucky a long message, saying how sorry she was for failing him. He’d written back immediately, assuring her that it wasn’t her fault but he knew that guilt wasn’t always rational. It wouldn’t just go away at his say so but at least, Shuri could focus on her work now and do better.

Nothing bad was going to happen here ever again and anyways, Bucky couldn’t treat Steve like a guardian any longer, clinging to him for safety, like a life line. He wasn’t a helpless child after all. He was a fighter. A survivor. He had no need for a body guard. 

Bucky jumped to his feet, pulled down the olalem from its place on the wall, and stuffed it into his belt. He got his old backpack from the closet quietly and slipped into his sandals.

Making sure Steve was asleep one last time, he left the hut in a fast stride before he could change his mind.

Nothing bad was going to happen. Nothing.

He didn't look back at the hut and walked straight past the dried-up foutain that held no water in the summer, one hand on his weapon, shaking in fear.

Bucky’s way was illuminated by the silvery light of the full moon, giving the scenery a dreamlike quality that he couldn’t quite enjoy. His heart was beating too fast, his wide eyes darted around, here and there, scanning his environment, like a hunted animal, afraid of its own vulnerability. Bucky knew that he’d be unable to make out any predators in the dark...

Pull yourself together, he told himself, the angry twist of his mouth a thin line. Hydra’s not gonna wait for you behind a fig tree in the dark at ass-o-clock in the morning!

When he had almost passed by the goat fence, not looking at the ground in his paranoia of missing an attack, he stumbled over a root and stubbed his toe. Bucky caught himself but twisted his ankle in the process.

“Fuck!” he cursed loudly, hobbling around on one leg.

He stopped to lean on a wooden post, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart and mind, and ignored the pain. This was nothing. He could still do this. All he had to do was man-up and focus on something else.

Scrambling for some happy memories, Bucky thought of his goats which had pastered in the field in front of him during the colder seasons. For the remaining time of the year, as long as the grass was too dry and often burnt, they remained in a sheltered area further up in the mountains where food was plenty and they were protected from the exhaustion of the heat.

Bucky couldn’t wait to get them back. He’d never delivered any babies himself. He wasn’t even at the hospital when his ma gave birth to Rebecca, and Miss Maisy, the black cat they had rescued and hidden under the stairs in the Barnes home when they were 6 or 7 - more or less successfully - had done all the hard work herself one night. They cried for a week when they learned that weren’t allowed to keep the kiddens but anyways, some of Bucky’s pregnant sheep were due in the winter, so he had a new first to look forward to. The miracle of life.

With a clearer head and the ghost of a smile on his lips, Bucky took another deep breath and let go of his anchor. He felt much safer already. All he had to do was not think of the bad stuff again.

With that intent, he patted the fence post like it was an old friend and limbed over to his little storage bunker, rummaging through the contents. They had enough supplies to last them about 3 weeks on dried food and water alone, but if that failed, they could always count on the Wakandans. They were especially hospitable neighbors. When the harvest was meek and some poor schmock’s luck ran out, they always found a way to make sure that no one went hungry. That was just the kind of people they were.

Even if that wasn’t a matter of course with everyone anymore (Bucky wasn’t entirely sure where he stood with some of his old neighbors after ‘the incident’ and he was too afraid to ask), Steve and him were as rich as God now. Thanks to the army’s generous backpay - which Steve had earned and Bucky absolutely didn’t deserve - they had enough money to buy a small mansion. They’d just decided to stay here instead where they couldn’t get to a store without an hours march.

It wasn’t just an inconvenience though. The bustle of the city was miles away and Bucky preferred it like that. A simple life. Relying on his own hard work and skills, as it always had been.

Packing a load of dried meat, and fruit, and the restocked tea box into his backpack, Bucky stood up to make his retreat with a relaxed feeling, stupidly proud of himself for the little thing he’d achieved on his own, when suddenly, he heard a branch crack.

Fill: The Quiet Game (10.2/?)

[devildears]

Bucky’s head whipped around.

“Who’s there?” he wanted to scream as he turned towards the noise, drawing his weapon but there was no sound coming out of his mouth, just like in his nightmares.

Was it Rumlow? Had they come back for him? To finish what they started?

He stood there, he didn’t know how long, frozen in terror, one hand clutching his weapon so tightly that it went white with blood-loss, and a million thoughts raced in his mind.

Every single one of them ended with him down in the dirt, feeling them tear and force their way into his broken body, raping him again...

No, please... Not again... Please, I can't... The children...

“Mr. Barnes?” he heard a man call out and Bucky wanted to sob with relief.

It was definitely a black guy. Not Rumlow. A Wakandan, too, judging by the heavy accent but Bucky couldn’t make himself relax just yet. The man was barely visible despite the bright moon light, crouching behind the bushes. He didn’t make any sudden moves, almost like he was waiting for Bucky to react with violence.

“What— Who’s asking?” Bucky said, voice wavering noticeably. “You’re trespassing.”

“Oh? I guess that I am,” the guy said neutrally but there was a hint of sarcasm in his voice, too. “I am coming out now if that is alright with you?”

Bucky swallowed hard. “Ewe,” he said. Yes. “Please. Show me your hands.”

As the man stood up tall and came out of the dark slowly, Bucky recognized his status at once. He was adjourned in a warriors uniform, red and gold like the king’s guard, carrying a long gilded lance over his head, hands on his weapon, held high over his body, moving proudly.

“I am sorry to frighten you. I take it you were not informed of the king’s security measures for this area?” he asked, words chosen carefully.

Bucky watched the stranger’s face with frayed nerves but he didn't find any obvious signs of a lie, no reason to distrust him still. “I don't need— Shit...” he answered shakily. “Hayi. No. I was not informed.”

The man seemed a little awkward now. “I am very sorry. The king said you would feel better knowing that you do not need to worry about intruders. Perhaps he forgot to mention it. He is a very busy king.”

Bucky nodded helplessly, then he took a deep breath and finally put away his weapon, extending his hand. It was still shaking and cramping a little.

“Sorry about the standoff. I’m Bucky. Barnes. But you knew that already,” he said.

The guy lowered his lance. He looked down at Bucky’s hand, but decidedly didn't take it.

Huh...

“My name is Mandlakhe,” he replied cooly. “I believe you know my brother.”

“Your brother?” Bucky asked with an arising sense of alarm.

“Amwoni, he is called.”

Bucky lowered his hand first, and then his expectations. “Oh... I see.”

Amwoni was the little boy who had been hit and shoved by Bucky’s attackers, a punishment for crying too much. Bucky had learned that from the other kids later. He was the youngest of them all.

“Yes, I know him,” Bucky said with deep regret. “I’m so sorry for what happened.”

“Then you know why I was ordered here.”

Bucky nodded again, feeling dead-tired now that the adrenaline was gone from his body, drained somehow. “Ndiyazi.” I know. “I’ll talk to the King. You should be with your family now. Not standing guard in my front-yard at night so I can feel better.”

Mandlakhe gave him a pointed look. “I agree but as long as the king commands me here that is what I will do.”

“Of course you will. Damn orders, right?”

Mandlakhe raised a judgemental eyebrow at him, and Bucky winched. 

“Sorry,” he said again, timidly. “I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just... This is all because of me. You guys were safe before I came here. Happy even...”

The warrior didn't acknowledge his words, just kept looking at Bucky coldly.

“I swear, I never meant to put anyone in danger,” Bucky tried again. “Least of all the kids—”

“We have good men watching your property,” the warrior interrupted and turned away from him. “If you see them it would be best not to give away their position.”

Bucky frowned and tried not to get pissed-off at the insinuation. He didn’t have the right. Mandlakhe didn’t know him that well and even if he did, he clearly didn’t have to give him the time of day. “I won’t. I promise. I used to be a sniper in the army. I know the importance of stealth.”

Mandlakhe was about to put a few more steps between them, when he said it, but then he froze suddenly.

The warrior turned around sharply, his face twisted with something ugly, and began to walk towards Bucky in fast strides.

“Then how did they find you?” he hissed, the accusation strong in his voice. “These men? Who told them how to get inside the country?”

“I— I don’t know,” Bucky answered truthfully and unconsciously retreated a few steps. “What do you—”

“You did not tell them?”

“What? No, I didn’t! Of course not! I didn’t ask for any of this!” Bucky blurted, shocked and hurt at the same hurt. 

Mandlakhe took one last step towards him, only stopping when they were almost face to face. Bucky struggled with the sudden impulse to draw his weapon again or run in the opposite direction.

“That is not what I heard,” the warrior sneered.

It was a punch to the gut. A real low blow. 

A hot flash of shame creeped up Bucky’s face as he stared at him, open-mouthed.

“Are you kidding me?” he thought. “You think I brought them here? You think I wanted this? That I liked it?”

The worst part of it was that Mandlakhe wasn’t entirely wrong per say. He had asked for it, hadn’t he? Amwoni must have told him. What did Bucky have to say for himself that wasn’t a complete lie?

He was still trying to come up with a decent comeback when the guy turned on his heel and walked away from him in the opposite direction of the hut. 

Bucky stayed where he was. Speechless and frozen on the spot.

“Don’t get in the way, Winter Soldier,” the warrior called out maliciously when he was almost out of sight, his silhouette was getting swallowed by the dark around him. “You have done enough.”

Fill: The Quiet Game (11.1/?)

[devildears]

Steve seemed to like the idea of armed guards much more than Bucky did, but then again, he hadn’t told him everything Mandlakhe had said. Only that he’d discovered the patrol at night and that T’challa had sent them for their protection...

Right now, the guards were nowhere to be seen but that didn’t necessarily mean that the two supersoldiers were alone. Mandlakhe and his guys weren’t gone, just staying out of sight as best as they could. If it was for stealth or because they thought it would make Bucky more comfortable with their presence - he couldn’t say. Considering Mandlakhe’s personal dislike for him though, which he’d most likely shared amongst the others by now, the first option seemed to be a much safer bet.

Bucky was under no illusions that his alleged ‘complicity’ in the rape hadn’t made the rounds yet. T’challa’s warriors were forced to guard someone they probably considered lower than human. Given the indisputable fact that Bucky had repeatedly spread his legs for Hydra, knowing exactly what he was in for, he wasn’t sure that he disagreed with them.

He still heard the children’s cries from time to time, in his memory and his dreams, wishing he could save them from the horror, to make them look away and forget. The details of what had happened with Ward and his crew came back to Bucky in flashes. Their cruel, unwelcome hands on his body, their filthy dicks, and weapons inside of him, tearing him apart... It left him feeling dirty in a way he couldn’t ever scrub off.

Some days, the mere thought that another person could touch him again after all this, much less by their own free will, went beyond his head but Bucky could always count on Steve to reassure him. Nothing said continued sexual interest better than an importune supersoldier boner, pocking at your backside after a good late night cry, to make you feel lovable.

Steve (the horny bastard) wasn’t even slightly deterred by the things that Bucky’s body had been through. Any normal person would have been put out of the mood forever but not him. No, come to think of it, Steve would probably let his boyfriend roll in stinking garbage as long as they could still fool around after. It was sweet and a little embarrassing - mostly in a good way. They could beat anything together, and it helped to be down there in the thick of it as a team. 

Bucky wasn’t keeping it together so well after Mandlakhe’s taunt. He really wished the warrior would just quit his job if he hated it so much, so they didn’t have to see each other again. The shock still sat deeply in his bones, but he had no such luck. All of the guardsmen treated the assignment seriously, taking great pride in the trust the king placed in them. The situation wouldn’t magically work itself out unless Bucky reported it to T’challa directly. That was the only way to get rid of the problem but it posed a big risk for them, too.

To repeat the hurtful words to the king and hope that he wouldn’t take his own people’s side... What if he didn’t and they had to leave? Bucky was neither a snitch nor a liar. Most of all, he wasn’t ready to explain where Mandlakhe had gotten his ideas from. Maybe he’d just read some of the leaked Winter Soldier files online and made an educated guess but if Amwoni had told his brother what he’d seen that day... Bucky couldn’t deny that he’d gone along with Hydra’s demands without a fight and that it wasn’t his first time either. 

To an outsider, keeping the children hostage might look like an idle threat on Hydra’s part, like Bucky was too weak and cowardly to risk his life to get help, but he knew better. It wasn’t about physical strength. It was about being smart enough not to use it. If he’d tried anything, the Wakandans would have had a massacre on their hands instead of the sex scandal that Bucky’s suffering shaped up to be. 

How could he explain his insight to T’challa? Make him understand that fighting back was never worth it in the end with guys like Ward? Not unless you knew how to killed them all and fast. Not even Steve fully got that and he knew what Bucky had been through. It hadn’t been easy but at the time, Bucky had no other choice... Steve was his partner. He had seen the cracks and asked the right questions.

So yeah, Bucky didn’t make a hobby out of telling his new friends about his history of sexual violence at the hands of Hydra, and he wasn’t about to start now. If he did they’d have to consider him an expert, a professional rape victim. Bucky didn’t like the way that changed his whole narrative, so he would have to get used to the guards eventually and adapt.

Bucky tried hard not to notice them patrolling around him from time to time, making their rounds as they’d been instructed but it put his frayed nerves on edge. Trampled grass and a trail of fresh footprints in the backyard, the lingering smell of testosterone and strange men in the air, a flash of the red and gold colored uniform in his peripheral vision...

Just the feeling of being watched (and judged) was enough to make the hair at the back of his neck stand up constantly. It kept him from going for a leisurely stroll through the hills or chasing after the promise of a relaxing bath whenever he felt like it. As long as there were eyes on him, undressing didn’t feel safe anyhow. Bucky was too uncomfortable to let his guard down like that. He wasn’t a prude, but he craved privacy more than ever now, feeling like people could tell there was something wrong with him even when they didn’t get a good look at his scars.

Steve claimed that it didn’t bother him, that Bucky was still beautiful inside and out, but the damage was done.

Funny enough, Hydra had reversed their own hard work by putting them there. Back in his Winter Soldier days they had stripped Bucky and hosed him down on the regular. At least once after every thawing and after the wipes to get rid of the stench of body excretions and sweat that came as a side effect of too much electricity on defenseless skin.

Weirdly, they never cut his hair or dressed him up in anything but the asset’s uniform (it was either this or nothing) but they were pretty big on hygiene. After the Soviets, he never smelled again unless it served a purpose. By the time they stopped forcefully removing his clothes and started ordering him to do it himself, the whole routine had rid Bucky of his modesty quite effectively. Being exposed in any state (no matter how undignified) had become a non-issue.

Bucky used to have a lot of these “non-issues” back in the day and kept struggling with some of them long after Project Inside had failed. He tried not to dwell on it for too long. Thinking about how odd his behavior must have seemed to Steve in the beginning, the way he’d crossed over pretty much every healthy boundary known to man, still made his skin crawl with second-hand embarrassment. Steve guessed what Bucky had been through after the first time that he—

Anyways. The things Hydra did to him were bound to screw with his sense of shame, and considering all the other things he’d lost, reclaiming that part of his humanity hadn’t been Bucky’s top priority. Now the shame and the need for bodily autonomy were back in full scale, and being naked and looked at by anyone that wasn’t Steve seemed impossible to stomach.

Hell, even then it took a lot of coaxing and gentle reassurance on his boyfriend’s part before Bucky would even consider taking his clothes off. They hadn’t tried to do more than cuddle for a while now, laying off the sex for good. It was more than a little unusual for them, to say the least. They had barely managed to wait an entire day without fooling around at most before Hydra’s gruesome attack put a damp on things. Now, Steve seemed to sense Bucky’s reluctance, his complete inability to relax when he heard even the slightest sound or saw a shadow on the wall that so much as hinted that they might have company.

When Steve stopped trying eventually, they both become more frustrated by the day. Bucky loathed himself for it. Why couldn’t he get over it? Well... The answer was rather simple. He’d moved out here, up in the hills, for a reason and that sure as shit wasn’t the idea of 24/7 surveillance and giving his new prison guards a free peepshow. Losing what was left of his safe space, and his sex life with Steve, after Hydra had taken so much from him already, felt like a punishment that even he didn’t deserve...

“Hey, you with me?” Steve murmured under his breath. He nudged Bucky with the handle of the pruning shears gently, effectively pulling him from his spiraling thoughts.

Fill: The Quiet Game (11.2/?)

[devildears]

They were currently repairing a part of the goat fence, replacing the withered wooden branches with newer cuts and coating them with that weird smelling substance that gave it a proper protective layer against the elements.

On a good day, Bucky was weirdly proud of his work. Despite them being city boys through and through, raised on rented apartments the size of a shoebox, he had learned how to take care of the property in a relatively short time. Bucky treated the land like he owned it, giving his possessions the love and attention they deserved.

He was constantly trying to teach Steve the same. Sometimes, it felt like working with a young apprentice that brought all of his strength to the job but none of his brains and fine motor skills. Steve was not a natural farmer. His finest qualities lay in a different area.

“Yeah. Sorry... Must have zoned out for a bit.”

Lucky for him, painting the fence was a simple task. Bucky had figured it out with a little help from the locals early on. Easy to go through the motions, even when his head wasn’t fully in the game.

Steve frowned at him but when Bucky didn’t offer anything else, he let it slide without comment.

“Alright. I was just saying... If they’re here, then I don’t have to worry about Hydra so much anymore,” he stated, wiping the sweat from his brow.

It seemed as if Steve would never get used to the heat either. His white tank top was already soaked in sweat and had a few smudges of paint on the front. They’d barely been out here for half an hour.

“Who?” Bucky said, just to be difficult.

With the way he constantly stopped to look around and sniff the air discreetly, it wasn’t hard for Steve to guess what was on his mind.

“Come on. The guards are here to keep you safe. You know that, right?”

Bucky sighed, slightly unnerved. “I told you, you don’t have to worry about me. This whole thing’s just a waste of time. As long as I’ve got you in my corner... That’s all I’ll ever need.”

Steve shot him a guilty look and resumed to tie down the new branches with his hands. His mouth twitched nervously.

“I know, it’s just... What if I wasn’t here all the time?”

Bucky closed his eyes and swallowed the anxious lump in his throat. Taking his time to form a proper reply, he took the shears out of Steve’s hand and cut back the protruding wood. Then he meticulously coated his part of the fence in broad brush strokes like it was a meditation exercise.

Steve was squirming in the corner of his eye.

“Why?” Bucky asked eventually, giving Steve a critical once over. “Not all the time? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve, the traitor, lowered his eyes to the ground, wringing his hands in his lap instead of facing his partner directly. “I’m not sure— It’s just...”

Bucky blew out an exasperated breath and threw the paintbrush back into the can, losing his patience. Some of the brown liquid got sprayed on his work pants.

“Why?!” he repeated more sharply and turned to face his partner with a stormy expression. “Out with it! You got somewhere else to be?!”

“It’s not... I wasn’t talking like a mission or anything...” Steve murmured in the general direction of his feet.

Bucky tightly closed his eyes once more, bracing himself against the inevitable sting of disappointment. He picked the paintbrush back up again and continued to coat the same part he’d been working on earlier aggressively.

“Sure. Whatever, man.”

“Bucky—”

“No! Leave it!”

He wondered what had to happen for Steve to just... Stay with him. Should he lose another arm, a leg maybe? Was there anything that could convince this idiot boyfriend of his to stay home and just be with him for once?

“Please, Buck, I—”

“Screw you! I don’t wanna hear it! If you wanna get out of here so badly, just do it already! Jesus!” Bucky cut him off with unmasked resentment. “I’m not a child, Steve! I don’t need you to babysit me, alright? I’ve been doing fine on my own for years! Years! How could I expect anything else...”

“Bucky—”

“What difference does it make to you if Hydra screws me one more time?!”

“What difference? It makes all the—”

Hot anger flashed in Bucky’s eyes and he turned around to say something equally hurtful but before he got the chance, whatever Steve saw in his expression made him stop dead in his tracks, and he raised his hands in surrender.

When Steve continued to speak, his voice sounded much gentler than before. “Sorry, I— I know,” he said appeasingly, “I know... I’m not saying it would change how I feel about you or anything. You know that I don’t think that. And I know you can manage without me just fine but—”

“But what? Huh? What? You’ve barely been here for three weeks! Three weeks, Steve! Is that all I get? After what happened to me? Really?” Bucky despised how whiny he sounded but he couldn’t stop himself. “I don’t need you for muscle, but a little emotional support sure would have been nice!”

Steve looked like he’d been kicked. “I know it wasn’t right, leaving you here like this when it happened”, he said full of misery, “but I never thought— Bucky... Please, you have to believe me!”

“I don’t have to believe shit,” Bucky retorted icily. 

“Ok... You’re right. I deserve that. You got every right not to trust me. Hell, I blame myself for what happened half the time, but I—”

“Whatever,” Bucky said again, as viciously as he could. “That’s so not the point!”

He turned around and roughly gathered the supplies in order to throw them back into their wooden storage box. The fence was still only halfway done but it could rot for all he cared.

Steve observed him wordlessly until Bucky had closed the lid and sat down on the ground beside the tool box, breathing hard and pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers - which was definitely more dignified than angry crying.

“Goddamn it...”

Steve stood there with him in silence for what felt like an eternity, watching Bucky stew in his own misery. Then he finally crouched down in front of him and spoke up softly.

“Hey... I’m sorry, Buck. I... I swear I wouldn’t leave you for a mission. Not like this. I promise you.”

Bucky snorted humorlessly and blinked away some tears which had gathered behind his closed eyelids, daring Steve to say anything about it.

“Oh really? Where are you going then?”

Steve carefully pulled Bucky’s hand away from his face and closed his own hand around it gently, like he was handling a bomb that was ready to go off at any minute. He did it like he wasn’t sure he was still allowed to touch, looking sorrier than he had any right to. It cooled Bucky’s temper some but not all the way.

Steve rubbed over the back of his hand with his thumb, like he was trying to soothe a pain.

“It’s Nat. She called me half a dozen times this week. I didn’t know what to say, so I just... Ignored her.”

“Right. So why stop now?”

Steve shook his head. “I can’t keep brushing her aside. She probably knows something’s up by now. See? Now she wants to meet.”

He pulled his phone out of his back-pocket and held it in front of Bucky’s face for him to read.

Steve kept it steady while Bucky used his remaining hand to shield his eyes from the sun so he could decipher the messages: 

widow: omg just found out what sam was hiding in his man purse!! 😂 call me when you get this

widow: you were right by the way. wasn’t work related.

missed call 9:35 p.m.

widow: i’ll keep dropping juicy spoilers on your answering machine :P

widow: it’s called a mailbox but you knew that didn’t you? ha! look at you not rising to the bait. 

widow: call me

missed call 11:08 a.m.

widow: how is it going in wakanda?

widow: are you still having sex? ;)

widow: just kidding. like you know how

missed call 5:13 p.m. 

widow: seriously? no one can keep it up this long  

widow: rogers?????????

missed call 5:17 p.m.

widow: 🙃 hello????

missed call 8:40 a.m.

widow: R U 💀????

widow: seriously. please call me back. this is important

widow: cap? respond in 15. visual(!) proof of life required

missed call 6:24 p.m. 

widow: I GUESS THEY DONT CALL ME WIDOW FOR NOTHING :(

widow: ok whatever

widow: t’challa says you’re alive so... 

missed call: 10:52 a.m.

widow: steve i promise i won’t disturb your holiday again but i’m getting worried.

widow: srsly. we gotta meet.

widow: pls? 

Bucky sighed again, defeated. Natasha was a force of nature with a seventh sense for personal drama that bordered on the supernatural. That she considered them her closest friends (Bucky mostly by association with Steve, but still) was either a curse or a blessing - jury still out on that one. Their business was her business, and when it wasn’t already, she would make it so. The Black Widow in her wouldn’t stop investigating until she knew exactly what was going on. Bucky wasn’t comfortable with her knowing about the rape but if Steve wouldn’t meet her, he figured they had a few days (a week tops) until she flew into the country herself to throttle them with tough love and good intentions. Bucky definitely wasn’t ready for that.

He looked away from the screen and up at Steve’s worried face again.

“Well, why didn’t you just lead with that? We don’t have much of a choice there, do we? I mean, it’s Nat… The hunt is all she knows. She’s not gonna let it rest.” 

Steve gnawed on his lip and frowned at Bucky, clearly torn.

“No, she won’t, but could try and keep it short anyway.”

He gave Bucky’s hand a good squeeze. “Are you sure you’ll be ok without me for a few days? Unless you want to come see her with me—” And when Bucky only huffed... “Again, I know you can be on your own here, but I’m still not going if you don’t want me to - or if you have a bad feeling. I’m never going to make that mistake again.”

Bucky gave him a sad half-smile which probably wasn’t very convincing.

“Sure... But if you’re still here by morning I’m asking T’challa to deport you myself.”

Steve laughed nervously.

“Oh yeah? On what grounds?”

“Stupidity... Your face... I’ll figure something out.”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“Little hard on the eyes.”

“Sure is.”

Steve pushed to his feet, then he leaned forward, searching Bucky’s eyes intently. “We good?” he asked, graze traveling down to his partner’s lips.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, “I guess. But you’re a dick. Just for the record.”

Steve nodded his assent.

“Alright. 90% dick. 10 % ugly. I can live with that.”

“Course you can. That ratio is the only reason I put up with you.”

Steve chuckled and puckered his lips. “Fair enough. If you’re quite done praising my dick then... Would it be too bad if you kissed this horrible old face goodbye? I don’t wanna overextend my luck.”

Bucky grabbed his chin not too kindly and pulled him closer.

“I could be convinced. If you make it worth my while when you get back.”

“Oh yeah? When you’re ready to try again... Consensual hate-sex never hurt nobody. Maybe I’ll let you take a turn this time.”

Steve grinned cockily and winked at him before he leaned in for a kiss that tasted full of promises.

Just for a moment, Bucky let himself enjoy it, roughly deepening the kiss with teeth and tongue. Then he pulled back and glanced at the slightly dented outline of Steve’s work trousers, before he looked his partner in the eye and smirked.

“Great. Better hurry then. I think those 90% of you would really like to join the fun.” 

Fill: The Quiet Game (12.1/?)

[devildears]

Rwanda. Small border town close to the Wakandan frontier. Two days later.

The cafe Natasha had directed him to had a big red ‘CLOSED’ sign in the window but when Steve went around the block to canvas the area, he found the backdoor unlocked and standing wide open for him.

He figured it was unlikely to be a trap. Sending him several highly personalized messages from the Widow’s phone wasn’t an easy feat and ultimately, a much bigger risk than it was worth to their enemies. 

To be completely honest... Even if it was a trap, the idea of beating anyone who dared to challenge him to a pulp didn’t turn Steve off as much as it probably should. He was itching for it, that promising rush of a fight in his head, just to blow off some steam. Most of the time, he managed to keep it under wraps. Steve was patient, kind, supportive - everything Bucky needed him to be. For his boyfriend’s speedy recovery, he ignored the unquenchable thirst for violence that he dealt with on a daily basis (especially when he remembered how much Hydra had taken from them already) and focused on being smart instead.

So far, every lead he had on Ward and the others had turned to smoke, but it was just a matter of time. They would trip up eventually and when they did, Steve would be waiting. No matter how long it took, the second he’d get his hands on the men responsible for Bucky’s suffering, Steve would be in the mood for murder.

And so, he knocked on the open door rapidly with his knuckles. Once. Twice. Repeating the sign in a familiar pattern only Natasha herself would recognize. 

There was no answer but Steve barely even hesitated before he slipped inside. Immediately, the strong smell of fresh coffee hit his nostrils, effectively dulling one of his senses. With caution and his shield raised, Steve walked through the narrow corridor that went past an empty kitchen and stopped to look at one of the framed pictures on the wall.

A man with a woman on his arm. One of them looked very familiar...

Passing by the bathroom door next, Steve entered the round open-plan area of the cafe to his right. There he stopped for a moment to asses the situation: The building itself was secluded but it had an almost panoramic view of the city through the big glass windows on the front. There was no suitable vantage point for a sniper but it was exposed. 

After walking all the way through the empty rows of upturned chairs and tables, Steve arrived at the one in the middle of the room that waited for him like the center stage of an Elizabethan theater. All it missed was a proper spotlight - a single light bulb maybe, swinging ominously from the ceiling.

There were two empty chairs, left and right of the table, with soft padded cushions on them. One of them had been pulled out, a clear invitation. Steve checked if there was anything under the cushions (both negative) before he took his designated place on the left.

A cup of black coffee sat on the table, still hot and steaming. Steve downed the rest of the scalding liquid without acknowledging the burn on his tongue. His taste buds regenerated faster than almost everything else and he liked the rich bitterness they detected. He just hoped to God that it was a natural flavor of the beans - not artificially masking the salty taste of Rohypnol or some other sedative. If he had misjudged the situation... 

“Lucky for you, I know the owner of this place,” a teasing voice announced from the kitchen area, coming closer with confident steps. “Don’t worry. It’s his day off which means we have it all to ourselves. We’re leaving a gracious tip for the coffee though. Otherwise, that’s just stealing...”

Steve stood up slowly and pulled out the chair opposite of him like a gentleman.

“Natasha,” he said, when she claimed her seat with graceful movements as fluid as a dancer’s, “you’re spoiling me.”

She slid a new coffee pot in his direction with a smirk.

“Am I? Taking what isn’t yours? Steve Rogers... I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“It’s good coffee,” Steve said with a shrug of his shoulders as he joined her at table and poured himself another cup. “Couldn’t let it go to waste.”

“I guess the Great Depression will do that to you.” She winked and leaned forward to lay her hand on top of his forearm in a comradely way. The red leather gloves complimented her short black wig and fair complexion which made her look distinctly French.

“So, now that I’m convinced you didn’t die on me...” she said with a certain playful reproached that told Steve he wasn’t out of the woods yet. “How are you? Really?”

Steve swallowed around the forming lump in his throat and busied himself with the coffee pot. “Been better.”

“I see. And how’s the missus? Too busy living the simple life to meet an old friend?”

Steve arched his brow. Natasha didn’t seem surprised not to find Bucky with him. Considering the meticulously staged welcome for one, she probably knew more than she led on - or had at least guessed that something was seriously wrong with Steve’s other half if he started ghosting people out of the blue.

He sensed that this was her way of leaving him an opening. As far as excuses went, it was as good as any.

“He’s not with me. He’s... God damn it, Nat.” Steve pushed away from his chair and took a couple of steps through the room.

Natasha didn’t startle. Instead, she continued to sit at the table and sipped her coffee with nearly unnerving calm, watching Steve pace with a blank expression.

“Alright, listen. I have to tell you something,” Steve started. “Bucky, he— Wait... Who the hell is that?!”

He came to a sudden halt in front of the bar and stared. 

Steve hadn’t discovered the body earlier, so she had probably masked the scent of blood with something else - but there he was. Some guy in his thirties with a gaping bullet hole in his head, leaning against the bottom shelf of the liquor cabinet.

“No one.”

Steve raised a judgmental eyebrow at her. “Doesn’t look like no one to me.”

She stood up and casually walked over to his side, only to dig him in the ribs with an elbow. “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” she asked with a wolfish grin.

Steve didn’t look impressed. “So?”

“You’re no fun.” She yawned. “He’s a tail. I caught him staking out the place earlier. I think they broke into my phone and got the coordinates I sent you.”

“Shit...” Steve said. “That’s serious.”

“I know. I realized I was being shadowed a week ago but I let him come. He fought me. I won. The natural order of things. Unfortunately, I had to put him down early before I could extract any intel. His passport’s fake, too. I checked, but I’m pretty sure he’s Hydra.”

Steve swallowed hard. “How do you know?”

She sauntered around the bar, crouched down beside the corpse and exposed his right forearm. There, about halfway up his wrist, was the Hydra insignia. An ugly red skull with 6 octopus legs. It looked like it had been burned into the flesh.

“Well, that’s new,” Steve said, staring back at Natasha once he could pull his eyes away from the mark.

The hate he felt for Hydra was bubbling hot under his skin. This had to be one of Ward’s men. Maybe even one of the guys who had assaulted Bucky in front of a bunch of innocent children. Otherwise, this was one hell of a coincidence.

“My guess? New management,” Natasha said. “They don’t want any defectors. After Insight, half of their staff pretended they’d never heard of Hydra much less joined ranks. Like rats leaving a sinking ship. Looks like they’re rebranding. Come on,” she snapped her fingers and lead him back to their table.

Steve trailed after her but he was too agitated to sit down just yet. 

Natasha didn’t seem to mind.

“Care to tell me what this is all about?” she asked. “First the radio silence, now this... You’re almost as secretive as Fury these days and he’s been resurrected twice. A little mistrust is understandable there, don’t you think?”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t distrust you.”

She snorted dubiously.

“Hey, I really don’t. It’s just— Hell, Nat. I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone else.”

“...But?”

“Shit, I can’t do this alone! I just can’t...”

“It’s ok. I can keep a secret.” She shrugged and looked at him expectantly. “Ask anyone. All the people who confided in me before are either very happy with my ongoing discretion - or very dead.”

Steve laughed nervously. “Well... That’s comforting.”

“I know. So shoot.”

He nodded grimly and tried to brace himself for the conversation that was about to follow. Bucky would understand. He had to.

Fill: The Quiet Game (12.2/?)

[devildears]

“About three weeks ago...” Steve stopped himself and sat back down on his chair heavily, keeping his face slightly turned away from the Widow.

He wiped over his sweaty forehead with one hand, conscious about what she might read in his expression. Then, he took a deep breath, steeling himself against the inevitable feelings of guilt and shame that threatened to choke him and began his report.

“Three weeks ago, a group of Hydra agents snuck over the Wakandan border, carrying out a coordinated attack...”

His voice shook and Steve stopped himself to take a deep breath.

She frowned at that but didn’t interrupt, waiting him out.

“They were coming after Bucky. He was their target. They— When they got to our hut, they saw a bunch of children playing outside. Children Bucky knows. He always talks about them...”

Tears were starting to pool in Steve’s eyes. He tried to hold them back, he really did, blinking rapidly, but it was of no use. Natasha watched them roll down his cheeks impassively.

“The children. Right,” she prompted, face blank, an empty canvas completely rid of expectation, giving nothing away. She’d been trained for that, the deadly poker face of the red room. Never lost her touch. “Then what happened?”

“They threatened to kill them if he didn’t do what they said. Bucky— Bucky went with them willingly. He felt he had no other choice. They forced him— They brought him and the children inside the hut and they... God—” Steve’s voice broke and he looked to the ceiling like he was asking for divine remission there, ignoring the constant stream of ugly tears running down his face.

“It's ok, Steve, he’s safe now. We both know you wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t.” 

“I know, it’s just... Nat, they— they gang raped him. In front of the children! They— Who does that? What kind of a monster could do something like that? I mean he— Bucky didn’t even fight back. He said he couldn’t... That they had guns on him and the children the whole time but I don’t know, I— I was too late. When I got home they were already gone and Bucky was— Jesus, they hurt him so bad. He was all bruised up and bleeding, and his face was cut, and he...”

Steve stopped his rambling and broke out in a sob. “Jesus, Nat...”

Natasha patted his arm in support but didn’t offer anything else beyond that. She let him cry for a bit without interfering.

When he had finally calmed down enough, she slipped out of the gloves and laid her small hand on his gently, directing his gaze back to her. Her expression was more open now, her body language radiated compassion.

“I’m sorry this happened to you. You two must be devastated.”

Steve nodded. “It’s hard. I don’t know what to do or say that will help him. I— I said some horrible things at first. Nat, I practically blamed him for it!”

Natasha shook her head patiently.

“That’s understandable. You can’t be perfect all the time, Steve. No one prepared you for this. Men don’t expect that kind of violence. Especially not in their own home. It’s not something you deal with on a daily basis.”

“And you do?”

Natasha smiled at him sadly. “This isn’t about me... You know, it’s not uncommon for organizations like Hydra to use rape as a tool. They use it for revenge, to exert control over their victims, to humiliate them, silence them, compromise their sense of security. I’m sure Bucky did everything he could under the circumstances.”

“I know he did, I just...”

“They probably thought it would destroy him - or you.” Her gaze hardened. “Don’t let them win.”

Steve shook his head with determination. “I won’t. We’ll get them back for this.”

“Of course you will. What do you need?” she asked.

“Nat, listen. Before you get involved, there’s something you should know...” Steve sighed deeply. “Bucky didn’t report it. T’challa and Shuri know, as do a few of the parents and the children’s families, but we didn’t tell anyone else. Bucky wants to find them and bring them to justice himself. We’ll operate outside of the law on this one. No courts, no jury, no judge. Just good old fashioned revenge. I’m talking execution style kills if he wants them. I’m gonna help Bucky in every way I can but I’m afraid we can’t do it alone.”

“Agreed.” She nodded. “You need me. You’re just not gonna say it. I know you’re playing coy. Fortunately for you, killing rapists is my favorite sport. So, I’m in either way. What about the others?”

“What about them?”

“We’re not gonna involve them in the search? Not even Stark? I mean, he’s still not a fan but he’s a wizard with modern technology. He can find people in ways I don’t have access to. If we tell him what happened, I’m sure he can help...”

“He almost killed the love of my life, Nat,” Steve retorted brusquely.

“And for that, you almost killed him right back. So just call it even. I swear you’re as stubborn as a mule sometimes. I know he’s been trying to reach out to you, to make amends.”

“He has. But we can’t risk it. One stupid comment about how karma always comes back around and I swear to God— I’d lose my shit.” 

She sighed. “Alright. I see your point. Are you sure you don’t want any backup though? Might be a lot faster than doing this on our own.”

Steve shook his head vehemently.

“Not if we can help it. Stark’s out of the picture. I hardly know how I’ll explain to Bucky that I told you everything after he explicitly told me not to, but I’m afraid if we bring Sam or anyone else from the team into this—”

Natasha laughed at him. “Then he’ll... What? Never forgive you? Oh chin up, Rogers... Don’t be daft. He knew you’d crack like an egg as soon as I looked at you sideways. He knows I’m a real asset in this operation. Believe me. It was just a matter of time. If he really didn’t want me to know he would have found a way to keep you in Wakanda. I mean, you can’t lie for shit, especially not to your friends - but he can without batting an eye. What does that tell you? Give him some credit.”

Steve blinked at her, a little perplexed. He hadn’t considered that Bucky’s methodical thinking accounted for his failure, too.

“Why... Why didn’t he just say so?”

Natasha smirked. “Maybe turning the knife on you like that is his way of dishing out some well-deserved payback. I don’t know. It’s a little passive aggressive, but... Why are you asking me that? He’s your guy now, Rogers. Figure it out. What do we know about the targets anyways?”

“Do you remember a Grant Ward? Former S.H.I.E.L.D agent? Brown hair, about this tall?”

“Yes, I remember him.” Natasha never forgot a face. “Why? There’s no way he was involved in this.”

“He was their leader.”

Steve noticed a tiny muscle in her left cheek twitch. Other than that, Natasha gave no indication that Ward’s role made a difference to her. He was almost ready to believe that he had imagined it when she spoke up suddenly, her voice full of distaste. “I never liked him,” she explained. “He enjoyed his power a little too much, drawing his gun at inopportune moments where stealth was advisable, boasting with it in front of me and his team, flirting with the new recruits, taking unnecessary risks... I reported him for that once but it didn't stick. Until now I thought he had been arrested for treason for his involvement in Project Inside and died in S.H.I.E.L.D. holding.”

“He did, but apparently, we let him slip through the cracks when we reversed the decimation,” Steve spat. “The bastard’s still alive.”

She patted his arm, then retracted with the shake of her head, and wordlessly poured him another cup of coffee.

“Not for long,” Natasha said with a mean smile. Her trademark sing-song voice carried a deadly promise. “Not for long.”

Fill: The Quiet Game (13.1/?)

[devildears]

Wakanda.

Bucky caught himself staring at the trees. There was nothing particularly interesting about them. Maybe it was just the way they moved in the wind that was soothing to him. Like the endless ripple of waves on a beach, evoking the faded memory of Coney Island in the summer.

He’d always liked it there, strolling around the pear, flirting with girls and stealing Steve’s ice cream with increasingly obscene swirls of his tongue when no one was looking. It was perfect. They’d dip their toes and dive into the open sea to cool down their adolescent hormones until the sun came down. A simpler time.

After all the water boarding, and the fake drowning, and the sensory deprivation tank, and the ice baths, and those times in the communal showers that still made him vomit when he woke up remembering... Water and Bucky Barnes were in a complicated relationship now, but the trees, he could enjoy. At least for a little while.

Bucky knew that nothing good would last for him anyways. Perhaps, it was the appropriate punishment for his crimes. He had hurt so many people along the way that it almost seemed fair. To kill an enemy in times of war was one thing, but to those he had murdered in cold blood in the name of Hydra and the Soviets, he owed a debt he could never repay.

Still, Bucky tried no to dwell on his miserable existence as the Winter Soldier too long. It only made things worse for him. Sometimes, the ghosts of his tormentors’ hands roamed over his skin, sudden and unprovoked. They pinched, and prodded, and slapped him around. All those men (and the occasional women) who had wronged him in the worst of ways over the years, used his body for their own amusement, and turned him into a ruthless killing machine thought absolutely nothing of it. They treated him like an empty vessel, a meat puppet without a soul.

Considering the plans Bucky had for those who were still breathing, maybe they had been right all along. Maybe, he didn’t have one.

While the Wakandans regarded forgiveness as one of the highest virtues in life, they also had an exceptional appreciation for revenge. So in that way, Bucky fit right in. He couldn’t forgive. He couldn’t forget. He carried the pain and the humiliation that let him shrink away from his own shadow like armor. It was as if Ward and his crew had branded him with their hatred, an unremovable mark.

After the snap and the following resurrection, Bucky had told the others that he wanted out of the fight. Foolishly, he’d believed that he’d be left alone in T’challa’s kingdom, that the remains of Hydra were too scattered to pose a real threat to him... Well, Bucky wasn’t one to learn a lesson the easy way. They’d outdone themselves in proving him wrong, but bringing the children into this was the last straw.

Hydra had to be stopped once and for all, and thanks to their special care, Bucky knew more ways to kill a man than he could count. All he had to do now was wait for Steve and Natasha to find those scumbags and strike at the right moment. He just wished the day would come sooner rather than later.

Being out here all by himself (except for Mandlakhe and the other guardsmen in his backyard whom he couldn’t get rid of soon enough) was hard. Before long, Bucky’s mind turned to the darkness, that dead, empty feeling and those voices in his head which screamed of injustice, rage and abandonment, turning his days to night and the food to ashes in his mouth if he let it.

Steve had barely been gone for a week and Bucky already missed him like crazy. At first, he had tried to convince himself that it would do them both some good to get a little distance now and then, but in truth, without his partner, Bucky missed an essential part of himself - like a heart or a lung. Living and breathing together in sync made things more bearable somehow, always had, even back when Steve was still an asthmatic little shrimp and Bucky did most of the breathing for him.

Sam Wilson in all his former counselor wisdom called it an “unhealthy codependency”. Bucky called it being in love.

Really, people should cut him some slack. On the outside, he was everything he was supposed to be: Functional, mostly recovered, dealing with his shit. He’d built himself a life in Wakanda. A real life with friends, and neighbors, and a reason to get up in the morning. He just liked it better when Steve lived it with him. They had earned a little codependency after all.

Only the children, Bast bless them as they said, kept Bucky from moping on his own for too long, making sure that he was constantly distracted. He was supposed to play hide and seek with them at the moment and the mood was only mildly dimmed by the fact that he couldn’t particulate.

The little group had made a pact not to stray too far from Bucky’s hut. There was only so much space to hide around the small house until the kids inevitably became bored of it (and going inside was still off limits), so they had wandered a little deeper into the jungle. It was even closer to the border and Bucky didn’t dare to let them out of his reach. Not for a second. The children didn’t like the new rules he’d set up for their safety, complaining how staying at least in earshot at all times limited their fun but otherwise, they had accepted the new situation pretty fast. It was remarkable. Whatever life threw at them, the children adapted far more quickly than any adult could have. Bucky admired that. Even the young ones were back to their old form.

So, despite their constant teasing and some pretty outrageous taunts, Bucky didn’t budge. If he had to sit out the game forever and remind them to stay close a hundred times over, so be it. He was losing a little bit of his cool uncle status for it though.

“Hide, hide, wherever you are,” Tamia announced. “Here comes the 10-headed gorilla!” The children who hadn’t found a hiding spot yet shrieked and took off like a bunch of scared chickens. Bucky smiled at the chaos around him fondly.

The ten-headed gorilla was a made-up mystical creature. After a thorough investigation, he had learned that it was actually a caricature of the gorilla god whom M’baku and his people worshipped. Like an offensive version of big foot. It seemed a little petty of T’challa’s folks to teach it to their kids even now that they were at peace with the mountain tribe but as long as it wasn’t harming anyone, Bucky let it slide. Wasn’t his business to judge them for it anyways.

When Tamia turned around, hand still covering her eyes and peeking through her fingers, she spotted Bucky sitting on the ground first and took down her hand to frown at him accusatorially.

“Inguka, you’re so lazy. You didn’t even try to hide.”

“Nope,” Bucky said, still smiling at her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Told ya’, I gotta watch over you. Can’t do that when I’m hiding.”

She shook her head critically. “Indoda endala...” she murmured and started to walk away. Old man.

“Hey! What was that?” Bucky called after her, eyebrows raised quizzically.

The ballsy girl just laughed, waved her hand at him, and ran away to look for the others instead of giving him an answer.

Bucky knew where they were hiding of course, every single one of them, but he wasn’t allowed to give hints. No, the White Wolf wasn’t a skilled tracker when they played. Bucky pretended that he couldn’t make them for a long time when he was the one searching. In reality, it never took him more than a few seconds. He could still shoot a target blindly, locating them by the sound of their heartbeat alone, but the game lasted longer if he started off walking in the wrong direction on purpose.

“Hey, you better respect the game master here!” Bucky scolded after Tamia, without any heat. “I might be old but I’m not deaf yet! Brat...”

Bucky shook his head.

“Kids these days. Unbelievable...”

He put his bare feet up against a tree stump and closed his eyes, listening in to the sound of the children breathing against the backdrop of the jungle, trying to make out any threats. 

Fill: The Quiet Game (14.1/?)

[devildears]

It had all been Bucky's fault anyways. Steve had been away on an important undercover mission for one month and 7 days exactly. A ridiculously long time without making contact by their standards (not even phone sex to tip Bucky over) and things got pretty heated the second Steve sat foot on Wakandan soil.

Bucky had always had a disproportionate interest in the uniform but Steve in glorious all black cevlar— Tight black cevlar that outlined his abs and hugged his muscled frame in a way that came close to suggesting infidelity... Hot damn!

Combined with that unkept beard of his which promised a delicious burn between Bucky’s thighs for days, and the longish hair that started to cover Steve’s ears in an effortless twirl, the image did things to his boyfriend’s libido he’d never confess to, not even under torture. The look of utter love and adoration in Steve’s beautiful baby blues did the rest.

Bucky practically jumped him right then and there in the middle of a blooming sunflower field, completely shameless, before the engine of the quinjet had even stopped whirring.

Steve always gave back as good as he got and this time was no exception. He attacked his partner’s willing mouth with hunger. Bucky clung to him in a way he’d only seen in movies before, getting picked up and swirled around in Steve’s arms. He was too happy to scold or resist Steve’s warm laughter and let himself be carried with his legs wrapped around his waist.

A familiar calloused hand grabbed Bucky’s dick under the Shuka, already hard and wet at the tip, and began pulling him off as they went.

They had barely managed to move things to the hut in time, when Steve slammed Bucky’s back against a wall hard enough to make a dent and pressed two fingers against his perineum.

Bucky came with a loud shout, soiling his own clothes from the inside.

Still, Steve didn’t stop jerking him off until the oversensitivity became too much.

“Shit... Alright, stop. That’s enough, casanova. Let me down,” Bucky ordered.

When Steve complied, Bucky didn’t take a breather, didn’t even bother to undress Steve fully before he went to town. Unzipping his man’s fly with his teeth, Bucky sunk to his knees on the hard floor and took Steve’s glorious cock down his throat without any hesitation, swallowing around it and cramming it in as for as it would go. Having no gag reflex left whatsoever definitely put him at an advantage here...

“Jesus, fuck!” Steve cried, pulling out slightly, before he slammed himself back into Bucky’s warm, welcoming heat. His shivering hand made a fist in Bucky’s hair to hold onto and steady himself.

If he didn’t know any better Bucky would have been concerned that his partner’s legs might give out right where he stood, but Steve was a super-soldier, wasn’t he? He could take it.

Bucky just concentrated on humming lowly and bobbing his head in the deliciously sloppy rhythm Steve was dictating.

When Steve was about a few seconds from spilling in his boyfriend’s mouth, he pulled off with a wet pop and kept Steve’s hips at a distance, panting with the effort.

“No! No! Come on...” Steve whined like he was being tortured.

“I should leave you high and dry for doing that to me again!” Bucky slapped Steve’s right thigh half-heartedly but it lost its sternness when he looked up at his partner with dopey eyes, appreciating his flushed face and heaving chest. “I thought I was going blind from all the self-gratification...”

Steve positively growled. “I’m gonna spank you raw if you turn this into another discussion now, Buck!”

Bucky just laughed happily, watching Steve fume. “Oh yeah? Is that a promise?”

Steve glowered.

“Nah, you don’t mean that. You just want to come inside me, don’t you, Rogers? Relax, I think you’ve earned it. Don’t you?”

Steve shook his head in exasperation and sighed, looking relieved. Then he grabbed Bucky’s arm and hauled him up to his feet. “Jesus, Barnes...You’re killing me.”

Bucky winked lewdly. He led Steve to their rumpled bed which he hadn’t had the time to make properly because Steve hadn’t bothered to announce his arrival. With a wrinkle of his nose he sat him down on the dirty sheets and removed his Shuka, tugging the loose fabric over his head with Steve’s eager help and sat in his boyfriend’s lap completely naked.

“The lube’s right there, you know.”

Steve scrambled to fish it out from under a pillow like he was on a time limit and only slowed down to judge the bottle’s fill level against the light. “You’ve been busy.”

“Yeah. Did you think I was kidding? I really wasn’t. I nearly rubbed the skin off my dick waiting for you to—”

Steve surged up and sunk his teeth into Bucky’s neck without forewarning.

“Oh fuck!” Bucky screamed, holding on tightly and groaning into the sensation.

“Poor baby,” Steve laughed with an amused twinkle in his eyes and licked the enflamed spot which shut Bucky right up. “You really did miss me.”

He unflicked the cap and drizzled a generous amount of lube onto his cock without further preamble. Some of it landed on the uniform and made the dark cevlar shine like he’d treated it with a polishing cream.

Bucky put his remaining hand to good use by reaching for Steve’s length and smearing the clear fluid around the crown and all the way down to the shaft. Then he lined himself up and was just about to sink down when Steve suddenly grabbed his thighs and raised him up, effectively keeping him from his target.

”What?” Bucky frowned in irritation.

“Wait,” Steve said, panting hard with the effort. He visibly struggled with denying himself the pleasure to sink into the exquisite heat of Bucky's body just yet, “please. Just wait a sec. You’re not prepped yet. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Even with a hard-on as solid as a rock and mere seconds away from coming untouched he still wanted to do the right thing. Classic Rogers... Bucky kissed him happily.

“That’s very chivalrous of you but I'm prepped enough, alright? I thought about you this morning... Did a little more than think to be honest.”

Steve gave him a hungry kiss and growled. “Oh fuck... That’s so hot.”

His right hand, which was still a little wet with semen from Bucky’s orgasm earlier came up and rubbed over the excess lube in his lap. Then he reached around and smeared some of the wetness on Bucky’s hole, testing the give of it with his thumb only to slide it right in and out again, licking the finger he’d used to breach his lover afterward.

“Mmm... Strawberry,” Steve said with a smirk.

“Filthy,” Bucky commented. “I like it. Come on. Give it to me.”

He smirked and positioned himself just right, muscles straining, before he sank down on Steve’s lube-wet length.

The stretch and drag were perfect, barely the hint of an exquisite burn, and Bucky cried out softly.  Moments like this could last an eternity and he would never get enough of this feeling of bring claimed, of giving his body to Steve freely, out of his own volition just for the heck of it.

When he was finally seated in Steve’s lap, skin on skin, they moaned obscenely loud in unison.

“Jesus...” Steve said again. “Don’t move. I swear, I’m gonna come if you move...”

Bucky stilled his hips completely for a moment and licked into Steve mouth, just trading air back and forth and tasting him in the way he’d missed the most.

When Steve had calmed down enough to keep going and Bucky was satisfied with the little adjustment period himself, he kissed Steve one last time and raised his hips away from Steve’s pelvis slowly until his dick was almost slipping out, reveling in the broken sounds his boyfriend made. Then he waited, enjoying Steve’s drawn out moans and the blissed out expression on his face, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Come on. Use me. Make yourself come. Show me how much you want it...” Bucky whispered.

Steve put his hands around Bucky’s hips in an iron grip and slammed him down on his cock, throwing his own head back in ecstasy. “OHHH... Fuck!!!”

He snapped his hips sharply and Bucky groaned when he felt his boyfriend thrust inside of him twice more, as deep as he could get, before he started to twitch and spill inside of him.

Steve had barely needing any further encouragement to tip him over. He really must have been close...

Bucky kept on grinding his lower body in small circles, moving his hips back and forth to draw out Steve’s orgasm as much as he could. His partner groaned like a dying man and lasted a solid sixty seconds before he let himself fall backwards, his head landing on a soft pillow. He was breathing hard, the way he usually would after a fight.

Bucky looked down and marveled at the outline of Steve’s fingers which had left dark bruising imprints on his hips. They would fade by morning but Bucky would damn well cherish them until then.

“Bloody hell... I’m not sure how I feel about you going undercover again but that sure was some great reunion sex. I’m gonna be feeling that tomorrow.”

Steve huffed and pulled Bucky down on the blankets with him, maneuvering his face to lie against his chest. The uniform he hadn’t even taken off yet chaffed a little. “You’re an asshole.”

Bucky laughed full of joy. He took Steve’s hand which was still a little sticky with lube in his and pulled it down his backside. “You know, this asshole’s not exactly opposed to a round two, so how about we get you out of that patriotic attire and—”

There was some unexpected giggling, followed by hushing from outside of the hut and Bucky froze.

“What—” Steve raised his head looking startled and confused. He’d heard it, too.

“Shit... Damn it.” Bucky murmured and pulled the blanket up to his chest hastily, covering them both. He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at Steve apologetically.

“Oh man... I forget the kids were coming over.”

“Are you serious right now?”

Bucky raised his hand in defeat and shrugged.

“Look, I'm just gonna go check on them real quick and maybe give them a stern talking to about the meaning of the word ‘privacy’...”

Steve sighed deeply, rolled his eyes and buried his face in a pillow like he was gonna suffocate himself with it. “You do that,” he mumbled against the fabric. “Just... Do what you gotta with your damned kids and then you come back here.”

“I will. I promise. Just for the record: This sucks for me, too,” Bucky grumbled miserably. “Shit. I can’t exactly scold them with a raging hard-on...”

Steve pushed the pillow to the side and grinned at him widely, one eyebrow raised. “Oh yeah? Well, if you’d hurry it along, I could make it ‘suck’ for you in a whole different way...”

Bucky snorted.

“Real mature, Rogers. Are you kidding? We’re supposed to be the adults around here.”

“What? Humor happens to be on of my best qualities.”

“Is it though?”

“Excuse me? I just rocked your world and you know it...”

Fill: The Quiet Game (14.2/?)

[devildears]

“So yeah, Steve and I, we do what we do because we enjoy it,” Bucky lead on. “Because we chose to. It’s like... When someone tickles you and a friend or a parent does it it’s fun, right? But when it’s someone else, someone you don’t trust like... Let’s say some stranger you’ve never seen before who wants to get familiar — Not so much.”

The children were still listening intently, nodding along to Bucky’s story as they always did. Not all of them had been present that day when Bucky soldiered through an awkward lecture about the wonders of the male anatomy with a burning face but they came close.

“With your loved ones, you can always tell them to stop when it gets too much or if you don’t want them to tickle you anymore at all for whatever reason. They will stop when they notice that you’re uncomfortable. Right? They pay attention to the signs because it’s your body and you get to decide for it and protect it.”

Bucky sighed. “Does that make sense?”

The kids mumbled their assent eagerly, hanging onto his every word.

“So... Rape is when you don’t want someone to touch you in a certain way, the way Steve and I touch each other but they do it anyways, right? Doesn’t make a difference that I’m a man. If I say ‘no’ and someone does that to me against my will, someone who’s not my partner maybe, that’s rape. Because they’re taking that choice away from me. Do you understand? The bad men... I didn’t chose to be hurt by them and I didn’t want them to touch me like that but they did it anyway. They just didn’t care.”

“But... Doesn’t Steve hurt you, too, when you guys... Do that?” N’dalu, N’boku’s smaller twin brother, asked curiously. He was among the few who hadn’t been there for their little sex ed lesson if Bucky remembered correctly.

“No, he doesn’t,” Bucky said with conviction, feeling himself choke up with that same bittersweet mix of love and grief in his heart that crept up on him every time he let himself think about how far they’d come and what it had taken for him to get there.

“He’d never. It’s different. When Steve touches me, when he’s— You know...” Some of the children snickered as Bucky struggled for the right word like an eighths grader, feeling himself blush as he went on. “...Inside my body like that, he wants it to feel good for me, too. Even when I get bruises from it sometimes which can happen, like I said before, because we’re both very strong, he does everything with a lot of preparation and my explicit consent. Do you know what that means? Consent?”

Tamia, Arih, and the twins nodded but some of the younger kids looked confused, so Bucky explained it anyway.

“That means, he makes sure that I want it, too, and he can only know that if he asks me and I say so, or because I show him in other ways.”

“What other ways?”

Bucky smiled sheepishly. “Well, sometimes I initiate things or I ask him to— to make love to me but Steve has known me for a long time and... When you know someone like that you learn to read their body language enough to know what they’re saying without words. Then it’s ok to make a judgement call, but you see... Steve has to be absolutely sure that I’m not just going along with whatever he’s doing because I’m scared or uncomfortable. It’s his responsibility to pay attention to my feelings.”

“Like when you’re crying?” Amwoni asked quietly.

Bucky swallowed hard and tried not to think about the fact that they had all been there to watch him get fucked in the worst possible way. Violently, against his will by a bunch of Hydra goons, screaming, and bleeding, and crying on that table. It wouldn’t help to pretend that they weren’t talking about the same thing here. A gang rape. That’s what it was. God, how Bucky hated that word...

“Yes... Exactly like that. The Hydra soldiers— What they did to me wasn’t making love. It was painful and degrading. By doing that to me in front of you, using my body like that, you know... forcing things inside... They wanted to— well, they wanted to make me feel helpless, to hurt me, to punish me for my past mistakes, I guess. I’m sorry you had to be there for it. I just—”

He realized that it was an endless circle and sighed. Someone, somewhere, at some point in time had told Ward and the others exactly what he was preaching now only for them to learn the opposite later. That it was ok to hurt people, to use their bodies and enjoy their pain. They hadn’t been born this way, not as monsters but as harmless children, innocents, like those before him. Misinformation and cruelty had made them what they were now and Bucky had no way to stop it from happening again. All he could do was try and be here for these kids, to answer their questions no matter how invasive so they wouldn’t grow up to become a passive victim like him - or one of the bad guys. 

I hope I didn’t fuck this up for all of you, he thought and cleared his throat.

“I mean... What you saw, that’s not how it’s supposed to go. Sex is not something you take from another person. From your partner. No matter their gender. Steve is always real gentle with me and he’d never... make me bleed or anything. It’s not supposed to be like that.”

Bucky tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “He doesn’t keep going when I ask him to stop like the soldiers did. I can change my mind at any time, no matter how good it feels for him - and he respects that. That’s what a good partner does. Doesn’t matter if it’s a man or a woman. Physical intimacy is supposed to be a good thing, to be enjoyed together, not... Forced on you. Everything else is just wrong and you should tell someone about it so they can help you.”

“Did you tell someone?” Amwoni asked timidly. “What they did?”

Bucky felt like a hypocrite. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I did. Steve knows, the king knows. Some of your families... It’s ok if you want to discuss it with them, you hear? I might not be happy about it but keeping all of that bottled in isn’t gonna do you much good. I just—”

“So his brother is wrong then?” N’boku interrupted Bucky with his conclusion, pointing at Amwoni to his right. “Men can get raped, too?”

“I’m afraid so. Rape has no gender. It happened to me. It can happen to anyone. When someone gets overpowered, or pressured, or threatened so they don’t fight back against their attackers, then it doesn't matter if that person is a man. Not at all.”

The words reminded him of something he read in a book once. “...Consent is like an animal. Never free in a cage. While the body can perform a conditioned response motivated by a carot and a stick...” 

Bucky shook his head at nothing.

“I’m sorry, guys. I don’t want you to fight over this anymore, ok? It’s not Amwoni’s fault that his brother is so... Ill informed on the topic. I’ll talk to him. Lets just leave it at that.”

Fill: The Quiet Game (15.1/?)

[devildears]

(I hope some people in the trash bin are still interested in reading this & I’m not just spamming at this point...)

Bucky had a schedule. A timetable he created in his head every night as he got ready for bed. He followed it conscientiously from the moment the sun came up. All part of a long term roadmap to his recovery.

Same as his journals, the planning was supposed to help Bucky evaluate the things that seemed important to him and put them in a sensible order. Every day a new routine. Sam had suggested it, long before Bucky immigrated to Wakanda and became the White Wolf. Eventually, it stuck.

There were plenty of things to do around the farm and the hut. Enough to keep a supersoldier busy in Steve’s absence.

On this fine day, Bucky had:

• Slept for a solid 8 hours (no nightmares).
• Gotten up at sunrise as per usual.
• Made a fire one-handedly.
• Brewed his tea (using homegrown medical marijuana instead of Marula bark because of the annoyingly high pain level he was in for today).
• Took his meds (4 blue pills and one red if he was feeling particularly anxious).
• Washed his body. Not in the tub outside and certainly not tending to all parts with equal care like Steve thought he should. Maybe one day he could stand it.
• Brushed his teeth (only mostly without gagging after he hit the back of his throat too hard).
• Ate breakfast made from vegetables he grew in his own garden.
• Fed the goats (or not because they were still out on the pastures somewhere and Bucky had spaced out and forgotten about all of that again because it was one of those days).
• Made the bed.
• Cleaned the hut from top to bottom.
• Fumigated the space with sweet-scented smoke to lose the sharp chemical smell.
• And last but not least, played hide and seek with the children.

All in all, he had done many things that were supposed to make him feel better, like he was in control again.

So, yeah... Bucky had a schedule to follow, alright? His spots were filled.

Antagonizing the guards because Mandlakhe was a backstabbing cunt with no empathy who had no idea what he was fucking talking about, wasn’t on there.

So, he wasn’t going say anything. He really wasn’t but somehow, by their own accord, his legs took him there faster than reason.

How dare he? Bucky’s mind screamed at him. How fucking dare he judge me after what I’ve been through? For the one thing he has absolutely no reason to? The one thing—

“Hey,” Bucky called out with venom once he had caught up to the guy. “Hey, shithead!”

Mandlakhe turned around and cracked a smile as thin as the outer layer of a peeled grape.

“Ah, the Winter Soldier...” he sneered. “What a pleasant surprise. How can I be of service today?”

Bucky glared at him, then he put on an equally fake expression that bordered on creepy Stepford wive territory.

“That’s not my name. But I’m so glad you asked. See, it’s dangerous out there, right? I feel like having protection on my way home. Come walk with me.”

When Mandlakhe didn’t move, Bucky dropped the fake smile. He stepped closer and hissed at him. “Walk with me or I’m calling the fucking king himself to come down here and deal with you, alright?! I’m sure he won’t be happy to hear you’ve been neglecting your sacred guard duties. You know... Being the loyal subject that you are.”

Bucky clapped Mandlakhe on the back with slightly more strength than necessary just to hear him cough. Then he turned on his heal and started walking in the other direction, making his way home.

He listened to Mandlakhe struggle with himself as he went. The guy was shuffling his feet for a good 30 seconds or so until he finally made up his mind and followed him in fast strides.

Bucky slowed his steps deliberately, but never quite enough for the other man to catch up. Other than that, he didn’t acknowledge his presence.

By the time they finally reached his hut, Bucky’s whole body was vibrating with suppressed anger but he couldn’t risk the children overhearing them.

“For Bast’s sake...” Mandlakhe moaned after him. “Would you wait up? What is it that you want?” he asked, noticeably out of breath.

“What do you think?”

Bucky pushed the colorful woven curtain out of the way which covered the entrance of his hut and provided some privacy. They had recently installed it, right before Steve’s departure.

If it slapped Mandlakhe in the face as it snapped back, well, that was hardly his fault.

Bucky stopped in the center of the room. He turned around to watch Mandlakhe trail after him with a curse on his lips. Then he got right to it.

“Listen... I need to talk to you, man! What you said about me to the kids— It’s fucking cruel, ok? I didn’t ask to be assaulted in my own home! Why would you tell your brother that? The fuck’s wrong with you...”

Mandlakhe cleared his throat but he didn’t seem guilty or embarrassed about the accusations in the least. Instead, he raised his chin up high like he was gearing up for a fight.

“This isn’t your America,” he announced loudly, voice hard and cold enough to give Bucky a chill. “I can say what I want here to my own flesh and blood. You don’t control us. My personal opinion on the matter... It doesn’t concern you.”

Bucky stared at him open-mouthed.

“Yes, it fucking does! What you’re teaching these kids is complete bullshit and it’s dangerous, man! I mean, ‘men can’t get raped?’ Seriously? Is that something you read in a magazine once? What do you know about it?”

Mandlakhe shook his head and snorted at him in barely hidden disgust.

“I do not know, and I do not care to know about it, but I am sure that you had your reasons to go with them and play along instead of calling for help as you should have...”

Bucky’s blood started to boil.

Seriously. What the hell?

“They had guns!” he shouted with blazing anger, “Loaded ones! They put them against my head, against the children’sheads. Do you really think what they did to me was consensual? That’s not how it fucking works!”

“Yes, it is!” Mandlakhe hissed. “A real warrior would have died before servicing the enemy the way you did! Cowards don’t earn my respect. That’s all you need to know...” he scoffed with his arms crossed in front of his body.

“Bullshit!” Bucky screamed louder, shaking with suppressed rage and the injustice of it all. He’d given them so much...

“That’s such bullshit! If I’d let them kill me instead, your kid brother would be dead now, wouldn’t he?!”

Mandlakhe turned away from him, trying to leave like he couldn’t be bothered.

Bucky stopped him with a rough hand on his shoulder, fingers digging in hard. He shoved and turned Mandlakhe back around with the force of an enhanced being on the brink of a nervous collapse.

“Wouldn’t he? Answer me! He’s six goddamn years old!” Bucky cried, ignoring the tears in his eyes which were threatening to fall.

“Do you realize what they would have done to him before the end? —No?! Cuz’ I sure do! I know exactly what they would have done! So, fuck you and your stupid pride! What kind of a brother are you anyway? You’d rather have him go through that just to scrape his shredded brains off the walls?!”

Mandlakhe kept glaring at him with unmasked hostility and shook his head again, in disbelief.

“Answer me, man!” Bucky demanded.

“No,” the warrior hissed and poked the other man in the chest reproachfully. Bucky barely managed not to flinch back.

“No, I wouldn’t! But you were their fighter, were you not? The Winter Soldier? A famous murderer for their cause! You could at least have killed the men when they were distracted! If not before it happened then later when they were sated and drunk on their victory over you. How could you let them get away with it?! I would have killed them or died trying! Where is your honor?! Don’t you care what people say?!”

Bucky laughed at him without any humor and threw his hand up in the air.

“Oh my god, so that’s what it’s all about then? Your fucking reputation?! Your shitty pride?! You sure you wanna talk about honor to me?”

At that, Mandlakhe’s hand white-knuckled his spear and he stomped his feet like a child.

“My brother lives with these images for the rest of his life, and yet here you stand! Given our charity! Alive and well! You did nothing. Nothing!”

Bucky had to look away. He’d done plenty. Enduring the rape and keeping the children quiet had been no small feat - whether Mandlakhe was ready to acknowledge his sacrifice or not. He’d never asked for charity, and he’d never gotten it. He’d never—

Bucky felt his control slipping. This guy needed to stop talking before he put him through a wall.

“Shut up,” he said, clenching his jaw tightly. “Just... Shut up!”

“Why did you let them escape if you did not want them to come back here?” Mandlakhe jeered, gaining ground. “See? Surely it was not so bad then!”

“Jesus! You really think that was fun, huh?! That I couldn’t get enough of it?” Bucky went on, hating his shrill voice for breaking the way it did.

He took another step towards Mandlakhe to looked him in the eyes and make him understand. It was all right there, the whole truth: The pain, and the hurt, and the humiliation.

“Do you know what it’s like to be torn apart down there?” Bucky asked, his tone getting more vicious with every word.

Mandlakhe had the audacity to roll his eyes and dart him a disdainful look as if Bucky had said something inappropriate.

“Course not... That’s what I thought. So, let me clue you in on a little secret: It hurts like fucking hell! They went at me so hard, I needed goddamn stitches! They shoved their dicks and their weapons inside me dry, as for as they could go, like it didn’t matter anyways! It wasn’t exactly a party, alright? I wasn’t even hard! I was bleeding all over the place by the time they were finished! Hell, by the end of it, I could hardly even walk!”

Mandlakhe gave him another unimpressed but deeply disgusted look. Then he snorted and tried to turn away again.

“Yeah, that’s right, dickhead!“ Bucky said. “You still don’t believe me, do you? That’s rich. You know what?”

Bucky grabbed his arm and pulled him along, towards the wall where the Hydra soldiers had guarded the children. He could still see their little faces, frightened and without a lick of understanding about what was going on.

„Why don’t you take a long hard look at my scarred asshole then? See if you’re still convinced that men can’t get raped after all.”

Mandlakhe started to struggle for real, trying to break free from Bucky’s hold.

“What?! Are you crazy?! Let go of me!”

Bucky didn’t listen to him, shoving him forward towards the corner where the mattress lay on the ground.

“Fuck it, I’ll do you one better! You want a turn to get even for what I did to your poor family? Is that what it’s gonna take? Fine! Sit back and enjoy the freak show! Cuz’ I gotta tell ya’, everyone’s been there by now and one more sadistic fuck getting his rocks off on my account is not gonna make a difference!”

“I hope Rogers is not the jealous type,” Ward had said as Number 5 and 6 tried to work their way into Bucky’s aching body together, ripping the delicate skin apart while he muffled a tortured scream, “otherwise, this might get awkward...”

“No! You will let me go, right now!” Mandlakhe protested again, trying to shove him off and losing his spear in the prospect. It hit the floor with an ominous clang.

“What’s wrong?! Cheer up, buddy! This is your lucky day!”

Bucky let go of the man abruptly once they had reached the mattress and the warrior tumbled to the ground without grace.

This was the exact spot. The room hadn’t really changed at all since that day except for the new kitchen table.

Bucky should have burned it all down.

Mandlakhe pushed himself up into a proper position but he didn’t try to leave again for some reason. He just sat there transfixed and watched as Bucky pulled the blue-striped Shuka over his head in one go.

Bucky threw it at the man’s feet like an accusation.

The warrior seemed frozen, caught in some kind of weird fascination. His eyes traveled here and there, staring up at Bucky’s naked body, aghast.

Bucky was used to the horror. His whole front was covered in scars, some fading, others thick and standing out. Whip marks, burns, cuts, and bullet holes. Every single one of them told their own painful story.

His back was much worse.

“What? Are you gun shy now?” Bucky snarled. “Come on. I’ll bend right over for you! Let’s see if your theory holds up. You can even bring that spear of yours and fuck me open with it. You’d be doing me a favor really. Guy like me? Who knows... Maybe I’ll like that, too!”

“Bucky,” Steve said out of nowhere with an eerie calm.

The two men nearly jumped out of their skin as they turned towards the noise. “What the hell is going on here?”

Fill: The Quiet Game (15.2/?)

[devildears]

Steve, his travel bag still in hand, was staring at them from the other end of the room. It seemed as if he had been standing there for a while now, listening to every word. The curtain at the entrance must have hidden him from sight, Bucky realized with a sickening feeling. That’s why they hadn’t noticed him at all. 

The gravity of the situation crept up on him slowly, much like the heat of a burn.

His mind came to a screeching halt.

What the hell was he doing?

He had just invited another man into their home— No, bullied him to follow him here and then he’d what... Sexually harassed the guy? Offered his body to him? To be fucked? To be hurt again?

What was wrong with him? What was he even thinking?

“Bucky?” Steve said, trying to get his attention and starting to sound alarmed. “Buck?”

“I... I don’t...” Bucky stammered. He realized that he was still naked but he couldn’t move, rooted on the spot. It was over. Done. He couldn’t say anything to make this right.

Steve finally seemed to catch on to Bucky’s state of mind, probably pitying his complete inability to keep his fucking life in order for a single week on his own. He began to move towards him, all business-like.

Bucky told himself to cower at his boyfriend’s feet and beg for forgiveness while there was still time, but nothing happened. He couldn’t move a muscle.

“Ok, whatever this is, it stops right now. Bucky, put your clothes back on,” Steve ordered sternly, and then he pointed at Mandlakhe. “You. Get the hell out of my house.”

If Steve hadn’t been here...

Bucky stood perfectly still as Mandlakhe fled the scene without another word. He even left the spear behind, tripping over his own feet on the way out.

The seconds ticked by as slow as molasses. Bucky still couldn’t move at all.

“Do you remember where you are? Buck? Hey, you’re not hurt, are you?”

When he didn’t answer, Steve fixed him with the strangest look on his face. Then he picked up the discarded Shuka on the floor and dusted it off.

If he hadn’t been there...

“Buck? Can you put this on so we can talk, please?” Steve prompted. “Do you remember where you are?”

Breaking up with a guy naked didn’t seem like something Steve would do... Maybe if he didn’t wear any clothes for the rest of his life and walked around naked forever there was still a chance, Bucky thought hysterically.

Steve held out the Shuka in his direction and he recoiled from the movement subconsciously, as if expecting to be hit.

“Shit... Sorry. Hey... It’s ok...” Steve shook his head and advanced in small, light steps.

He kept going forward until he was close enough to drape the fabric over his partner’s shoulders gently.

Bucky’s body shook like a leaf.

“Shh... No one’s gonna hurt you. It’s ok. Can you tell me what happened?”

If Steve hadn’t been there...

“I— I don’t know,” Bucky whispered. “Please, you... You have to believe me, I’d never— I’d never cheat on you...”

Liar... Too little too late...

Bucky felt a bunch of tears run down his face freely. “Fuck, Steve— I’d never— Please... I swear... I didn’t mean to—”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Steve assured him patiently, despite all the evidence to the contrary. As if he hadn’t just caught Bucky naked and offering himself to another man. “I know. That’s not where I was going with this...”

“I didn’t think—” Bucky stammered on, caught in a senseless loop of shame and guilt. “I didn’t mean to— He just— Fuck! I didn’t think—”

Maybe Mandlakhe was right. Maybe he had wanted it. Everything they did to him. Maybe he deserved it for being such a greedy little—

“Bucky,” Steve said again, and then more sharply, “hey!” commanding his attention with the snap of his fingers.

“Eyes on me, soldier! Focus! Snap out of it, come on... You’re spiraling again. Please... Stop it.”

Bucky blinked sluggishly, once, twice.

Then, as if all his strings had been cut, his legs buckled out from under him, tired of supporting his tightly-wound body. He dropped to his knees like a hunk of dead weight and sobbed his heart out.

“Oh my god! Oh my god... I’m so sorry! How could I do that to you? How could I...? I just— I wanted to confront him. He said— You can’t imagine what— But I shouldn’t have— Fuck!”

“Bucky, calm down...”

“Why can’t I think straight anymore? I just haven’t been sleeping well. That’s it! I haven’t— I— Please, Steve... Don’t leave me!”

“What?” Steve asked, distraught. “Why would I—”

“Steve— I didn't mean to—” Bucky cut him off. His bottom lip quivered miserably. “I— I can’t... I just can’t...”

“Jesus... Bucky, listen to me.”

Steve sat down on the ground beside him and wrapped him in his arms, rocking him softly - the way a parent would console their child after a nightmare.

“Shh... Listen: I don’t own you. No one does. You know that, right?”

We own you...

Your ass belongs to Hydra forever...

Filthy little whore...

Bucky cried harder.

Steve let him sob, and shake, and pet his hair as if he wasn’t disgusted with him. Not as much as he should be anyways because Steve was a fucking saint.

Bucky didn’t deserve his kindness, to be treated as if he was more than a disloyal, cheating mess of tears and snort.

“...I’m not mad, baby...” Steve murmured. “I swear. I’m not gonna leave you.”

They didn’t call each other many endearments outside of the bedroom. Steve almost never called him ‘baby’, except as a joke or when Bucky’ was really losing it. If he hadn’t known what a fucking disaster this was already, he sure as hell would now.

“Not ever, you hear? Especially not over something like this.”

“But I— Steve if you hadn’t come...”

“I know, baby, I know, but I was here. This time, I was here...”

Steve sniffled quietly, trying to hide his own tears and tough it out. At least one of them had to. Bucky clutched at his shirt so hard he could hear the seems tear.

Of course there was some twisted way, Steve would blame himself for this whole thing, and that was it. He’d been too late to stop Ward and the others. Now he was giving Bucky some sort of a free pass for it.

“...And even if you had, you know, ‘made it’ with that guy— I mean, I’m not gonna lie because I would have been a little bummed about it at first, finding out like this— But if that was something you really wanted or needed to get over Hydra then that’s alright. We could have talked about it. Found a way. Most of all, I’m just concerned for you.”

Steve kissed the top of Bucky’s head, like he was something precious, something rare, something to keep.

“I’m so sorry but I don’t want anyone else,” Bucky begged suddenly, meaning every word. “Just you! I love you! Please... I don’t want anyone else—”

“Ok,” Steve said. “Just me.”

“Just you. Forever. For rest of my whole miserable life! I swear, I never wanted that guy. He’s a real asshole. I was just angry and you’re you and... You’re too good,” Bucky protested weakly, shivering and clutching his boyfriend’s back with one hand.

“You’re too good for me, Steve. Always were.”

“Oh sweetheart. But I’m not,” Steve said, turning him in his arms and kissing Bucky’s forehead. “I’m really not.”

“You are. I don’t know why I did that... What’s wrong with me?”

“Not a damn thing, Buck...”

Steve’s hid a pained smile against his partner’s cheek.

“Not a damn thing.”

Fill: The Quiet Game (16/?)

[devildears]

Before he woke to the muted cawing of tropical sunbirds which had taken residence on their rooftop and were currently chirping away happily to greet the new day (with no regard for the human schedule whatsoever), Steve had been dreaming about Europe.

It had been a very nice dream, indeed. He came out it feeling so relaxed that - instead of facing Bucky and the complete mess they were currently in - he decided to keep his eyes closed for a little while longer. Steve had always been known for his special talent to sleep in any position, anywhere, no matter what time of day (even with a war going on around him). The red-ish glow of the morning sun which filtered in through the curtains couldn’t stop him from pretending to be back there either.

The dream hadn’t started with the fun part right away. Steve’s subconscious had modeled the deceptively detailed events after a real mission Bucky and him had been on with the Howlies during the harsh Winter of ’43.

They had stormed a medieval castle, a remote Hydra fortress in every sense of the word after 3 weeks of freezing their asses off in the cold. By then, every team member on their own had discovered that war wasn’t all that glamorous, but this particular mission had been a real test of endurance.

Their meticulous planning and tireless surveillance work had been worth it in the end. After only 20 minutes of silent infiltration followed by not-so-silent heavy artillery fire, victory was in their grasp. The few remaining Hydra soldiers either surrendered or killed themselves by biting on hidden Cyanide capsules implanted in their teeth. Or so they thought.

Knowing what Bucky had suffered at Azzano, Steve couldn’t bring himself to care. A dead Nazi was a dead Nazi after all.

The Howling Commandos’ efficient capture of such an important enemy stronghold would have counted as an all-around success by the books, too, if Bucky hadn’t been shot in the leg by the last entrenched enemy sniper on their way out.

Of course, it was hardly Bucky’s fault that he got shot (not that anyone would have breathed a word about it and lived to tell the tale) but his resulting foul mood turned out in Steve’s favor nonetheless.

The dream had skipped right passed the initial panic he had felt over Bucky’s bleeding wound in the field and brought Steve back to his own personal highlight of the tour:

He had never gotten to fully appreciate the beautiful countryside of France until the whole team was stuck in that charming little bed and breakfast hotel with the chipped green doors that locked from the inside so Bucky could recover.

Somehow, after three sheer endless days of bed rest in his separated room with fluffed pillows and proper heating, Bucky had gotten it into his head that fucking Steve on every available surface was the only sure way to take out his frustration. Not that he minded. No, sir. After all, Steve had gotten spectacularly laid that week.

In fact, he was so distracted by his countless orgasms that he didn’t even notice Bucky’s leg wound healing much faster than normal. A ridiculous oversight in retrospect that could have spared them so much pain if he’d just paid a little more attention...

Steve tried to get back to that wonderful, relaxed feeling from the dream instead of getting riled up about his past mistakes again but it was hard not to come crashing back into the present.

It took him several minutes and intense concentration to get back on track. The first thing Steve did, once he was fully immersed in the dream-memory of the lovely room with the green door again, was to focus on his senses.

His eidetic memory conjured the smell of cigarette smoke in the air that would cling to their clothes like a third lover without doing anything to hide the stink of sex and sweat. They had to take turns, sneaking out into the hall and down to the bathroom.

The Howlies probably suspected there was something going on between the two of them that went beyond brotherly affection long before they dared to show their faces downstairs, two nights and days later, looking hopelessly besotted, but it hardly mattered on a grand scale when every day could be their last.

Neither Steve nor Bucky would have risked getting blue carded out of the army lightly, especially since Steve had become some sort of national icon of American pride and virtue, but they’d decided to make the most of the time they had left.

What came after the war - if there was an after as Bucky constantly stressed - was uncertain. As long as they weren’t neglecting their duties to be together and stayed discreet, they could count on their team to keep the secret.

Steve hadn’t expected to wish himself back to a time in which they were constantly in danger, so the tranquility of the dream caught him off guard. Hell, he wasn’t even sure they’d win the war most days. Why did his mind consider that a good time now? Just because of the spectacular sex they were having? It spoke volumes about where his mind was at.

After everything Bucky had been through, how could Steve lie beside him in bed at night, fantasizing about getting his dick wet with his younger self in some forgotten place half a century ago, wallowing in self-pity instead of helping him pick up the pieces?

Steve wasn’t the fucking victim here just because their bedroom activities were currently on hold. Bucky was.

Comforting him first and then reminiscing about the things they used to have all night wasn’t right.

Of course, he had meant it when he told Bucky that he’d love him either way, but the simple fact was: It wasn’t always easy. Steve missed being together without the constant reminder of trauma hanging over their heads but of course, that didn’t let him off the hook. If his enhanced libido was giving him an especially hard time, so what? He just had to suck it up and deal with it in private like every other red-blooded American until Bucky was ready.

The waiting was familiar. In the beginning, after he had been a nameless assassin without agency for so long, Bucky’s relationship with sex had been a little rocky, to say the least. They’d tortured him in the most twisted ways, used his body against him, made him associate pain and humiliation with pleasure and affection until he wanted nothing to do with it anymore. Steve had seen the files and made himself skim through all the horribly detailed reports no matter how vile because he had to know.

There was a total of three-hundred and seventy-six individual folders of what they had done to him (and what they had forced him to do to others) from his time with the Soviets alone. Steve told himself that he wasn’t going to turn this into an endless guilt-trip, that he was doing it was to formulate a game plan, so he knew how to help. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Bucky to live through these things first hand only to be spit out into the world again, too scared to confide in others and unable to depend on anyone but himself to fix the problem.

Facing that, Steve had realized that if he ever wanted them to be together in that way again, he could not screw up when it came to Bucky, couldn’t ever let himself blur the lines of consent even a little bit.

Steve had been there for all the steps of Bucky’s arduous recovery. Especially the unpleasant ones. There was the total incomprehension of want and consent in the early days. The shame and extreme touch aversion which evolved into a chilling indifference and on to a desperate craving for violent, unsafe sex (Bucky had wanted Steve - or anyone really - to hurt and punish him at that time). When it got better eventually, Bucky started looking at sex like a hobby, something he was mildly curious about exploring - first with himself and then with Steve - and it was fun but it wasn’t all it could be. Finally, after about a year and a half (not that Steve was keeping track or anything), Bucky got what it meant to make love to another person.

It was beautiful. Steve was surprised by his own needs then, his own passion, that he had suppressed for so long to give Bucky enough room to breathe and to heal all parts of himself without pressure. He was unprepared for how good it could be when they were both in it for the same reason - for love.

Steve knew he could count himself lucky that Bucky had chosen him for that. That he had learned to trust him again after everything, to share his life with him, to touch and be touched without holding back.

The horrid gang rape hadn’t brought them all the way back to square one, and in a way, Steve was thankful for that, too, but it was still a huge setback. What had happened with the guard felt like something a different, an earlier, less recovered version of Bucky would do. The one that had wanted to feel all that pain and do something about it.

Steve hadn’t made the mistake to delude himself into believing that Bucky was ok by any means, but he was still shocked by how fast the situation had gotten out of control. It was frustrating. They had come so far, only to have a huge part of their progress destroyed by Hydra again. Bucky had been so happy here, so carefree. They’d both been so happy with their lives and Steve just wanted to get back to that, to share their home and their feelings for each other without Hydra casting a dark shadow over it. It wasn’t just the sex he missed, it was the intimacy that came with being together.

Sometimes, Steve wondered if he was being too careful. Maybe Bucky needed him to take charge, to be strong and assertive, to push back against whatever it was that had almost made him fuck that guard even if it was—

Bucky made a sudden, strangled noise in his sleep, distressed.

Another nightmare…

Steve opened his eyes and sighed. He rolled onto his side slowly, watching the back of Bucky’s head, a mop of dark unkempt hair, buried in a pillow. It was the only thing visible to Steve in the half-light.

“Hey, Buck? Hey there...”

Steve gently put his hand on his boyfriend’s stump under the blanket to nudge him awake, mindful not to grab the other man too hard. He’d made that mistake enough times not to want a repeat.

“Mmm... Wha—?” Bucky mumbled, voice rough like gravel, twisting and pulling away from Steve’s grip subconsciously.

“It’s alright, Buck. You were having a bad dream.”

Bucky stopped fighting. He turned around and blinked at him groggily, eyelashes sticking together.

“No... I...”

Steve could see the exact moment he remembered when and where he was and that what had happened with Mandlakhe the other day was real. It was in his eyes: The shame, and the guilt, a painful flash of complicated emotion before he shut down completely, eyes dropping away from Steve’s, throat working hard.

“Fuck...”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Steve said. “Not right now. Let’s just take it easy for a while. I could start by making breakfast for us and you could… I don’t know… Don’t you have to get up soon?”

Bucky rolled over with a low groan, put his back to Steve again, and pulled the sheets all the way over his head.

“...No.”

Fill: The Quiet Game (17.1/?)

[devildears]

Bucky had never been a morning person or an easy sleeper in the same sense that Steve was. Still, he could count the times he’d stayed in bed until after sunrise since he’d become a Wakandan refugee on the fingers of his remaining flesh hand. Structuring every day in tune with nature made for a nice, healthy routine as much as it was a necessity.

Maintaining the farm required him to always get up at first light unless he was prepared to work through the burning heat of the afternoon sun - which in all honesty, he usually wasn’t.

This particular morning though, Bucky couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. He was so exhausted from crying and breaking down in his boyfriend’s arms the other night that his limbs still weighed him down like lead.

He couldn’t believe he’d stooped this low. What kind of pathetic loser would risk a relationship with Steve fucking Rogers himself just to make a point? Well, Bucky Barnes’ idiot ass apparently. He should have ignored whatever stupid shit Mandlakhe had come up with and been the bigger person. Why was it so hard to keep himself in check lately? Was it that he couldn’t function without Steve anymore or because they still hadn’t found Ward and the others?

Bucky dreamed of the day he’d finally slit their throats, perversely longing for the gurgling sounds their dying bodies would make far more than he worked on his recovery. Maybe that was the real issue. He didn’t want to think about himself as a victim any longer but he also knew that the rape had affected him deeply. Enough to want to hurt anyone who dared to question him about it.

Damn Mandlakhe and his entire clan to hell... He didn’t want to see that guard’s face ever again and if that meant he couldn’t leave the hut, so be it. No one was going to drag him out by the hair anymore - which was exactly what Hydra would have done if the asset had tried to stay in bed for a second longer than necessary. Not that it would have gotten the idea.

Steve wasn’t happy with his plan, but since Bucky had taken to calling his self-imposed depression and shame-filled seclusion a “mental health day” which was a real, valid thing Steve had learned from his therapist aka. rogue Avengers BFF Sam Wilson, he respected it.

Steve (sweet, kind, understanding, boyfriend in a crisis mode Steve) took over and handled everything. He even sent the kids away at Bucky’s request, when they showed up in front of their home, expecting him to join for playtime as usual. Today, they wanted to practice stick-ball. Bucky hated stick-ball. He couldn’t remember why he’d taught it to them in the first place.

Steve had never been a skilled liar, so the excuse he came up with wasn’t creative but it got the job done. He told them that Bucky was coming down with the flu (the fucking flu of all things) and was on strict bed rest because of it. When he addressed the children and requested a few days of reprieve for the poor White Wolf, they didn’t question his story and pledged to pray for Bucky’s speedy recovery instead.

Unnecessary, but heartwarming. Bucky couldn’t appreciate the sentiment.

While his boyfriend had gotten more comfortable with bending the truth a little over the years, Bucky still hated that he felt obligated to do it because he was such a fucking mess. Telling people that Bucky had a common cold or something was as close to the truth as he could handle right now, although he felt that he should do better.

When the children finally left, Bucky sighed and buried his face in the pillows, wishing he could suffocate himself in them. It seemed so obvious that he didn’t deserve the love and trust they put in him despite everything that had happened. He could never live up to their expectations, like a walking, breathing disappointment.

All he’d proven so far was that he was batshit insane.

 

---

 

At noon, when it finally became too hot under the covers to wallow in self-pity, Bucky dragged his sorry ass out of bed in slow motion, feeling his one hundred and six years all at once.

Sweat glued the coarse linen fabric to his back like a hairshirt. It seemed weirdly fitting for a repenting sinner like him. The air was stale and getting worse with every labored breath, but he managed to put some marula tea on the stove regardless. Something to occupy his hands and mind.

Steve came in just as the kettle started boiling and joined his partner at the stove. The space suddenly began to feel oddly cramped for two people inside.

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly.

“So, Nat’s probably gonna be here soon. I’ll tell her to get a hotel room in the city and stay overnight. We wanna brief you when you’re feeling a little more— a little better, I guess,” he announced. “What do you think?”

Bucky shrugged. He sure as hell wasn’t fit for company. Especially the kind of company that was going to drag him through specific memories of his gang rape, kicking and screaming if need be, to get closer to the truth. Natasha wouldn’t back down. Even if Steve and her had found a lead, he wasn’t kidding himself into believing she wouldn’t want to know every little thing. It was just practical to know all about his assailants and how they operated as a team from a tactical point of view, but he couldn’t do it. Not yet.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked with forced casualness, keeping his voice terribly gentle and low.

Bucky snorted. “What do you think? Does anything about me scream ‘healthy and stable’ to you?”

Steve nodded, resigned. “Ok. So it’s a bad day then. Got it. I’ll let you rest.”

He put his arms around Bucky from behind, pressing a small kiss to his partner’s exposed neck.

Bucky shivered. He felt goosebumps rising on his skin where Steve’s lips had just grazed him. The familiar touch now made his skin crawl and how was that for another letdown? The mere thought that Bucky’s mind was set on destroying all the report the two to them had built together as a couple, made him want to cry. He couldn’t let himself show it though, not without seeming even more pathetic to Steve than he already was, so he squirmed away from the tight embrace.

“I’m fucking peachy,” he uttered into his steaming teacup without looking up and took a zip that burned his tongue.

Steve sighed. “Sure... Sorry, I asked. Well, I’ll be outside if you need me. But listen... Buck?”

“Hm?”

“I’d really like to talk about some other things later. When you’re ready.”

Bucky froze, the cup halfway to his mouth. “Things?”

“Yeah.”

“What... What kind of things?” Bucky asked with squirming dread.

Maybe this was it. Steve had had a whole night to contemplate his future with the crazy cheating mess that was Bucky Barnes ghost and maybe he just couldn’t take it anymore. The sad, pitiful fits of depression and the sudden irrational rage directed at him all the time... Steve’s decision made sense in a way, but Bucky couldn’t help but think that killing him would have been kinder.

“Like I said when you’re ready. I’ll just go and—”

“No, no, wait! Please!”

Bucky put the cup down with a rattling, loud clank that betrayed how badly his hand was shaking.

Steve turned around, confused. “...Ok?”

“Please. I, I feel— I’ll try harder ok?”

“Um...” Steve offered. “Try what exactly?”

“Like, I know I’m not great at sharing, but I should try harder to tell you... I—I feel... Crushed. Yeah, crushed. Like someone just planted the damn Chrysler building on my back and I just can’t— I can’t get back up from under it. Steve... I—”

“No...” Steve’s expression changed from confusion to regret. “No no no, I’m sorry, Buck! I’m sorry... It’s not like that. I didn’t mean to scare you. You don’t have to tell me those things if you’re not comfortable.”

Bucky exhaled shakily, a wave of momentary relief washing over him, but he forced himself to keep going. Just because he’d been hurt, didn’t mean he couldn’t make an effort. Steve was obviously worried and rightfully so.

“But... What I did yesterday, what I— Steve, I feel so ashamed about that. All of it. You deserve better, I know that. My recent behavior, it’s been... Ever since they— Well, since they fucking raped me again, it’s like— like I—”

He threw his hand up in the air in frustration.

“God damn it! You won’t get it, Steve! I can try but there’s no metaphor that fits here, ok? No one fucking gets what it feels like... When it happens... Why I didn’t fight. No one gets that! And why didn’t I— I mean, I couldn’t but that’s not the fucking point! I’m telling you unless you’ve been there, I mean really been there yourself, there’s no way you could know how I feel.”

Steve looked at him with deep sorrow. “Bucky, I understand that. I’m just trying to be here for you. What you did for these kids was brave, real brave, and I’m sorry for saying it wasn’t at first but—”

“But what? All I’m saying is, it’s not so black and white,” Bucky cut him short, eyes wild and defensive, “I know you must be so over me saying that but it’s not. It’s no wonder people don’t understand! If they finally stopped painting me as a martyr because of this, then... Good for them. I get it, Steve! I’m an asshole underneath it all! I get that. I’ve done things. Horrible things... So many of them... But you still—”

“I want you to see a doctor,” Steve said out of the blue, cutting him short.

“What?”

“I really think you need help.”

Bucky bristled in exasperation.

“No... Come on, Steve. We’ve been over this. Talking to some stupid psychiatrist is not gonna help me. I know I’ve got issues, real issues but I tried that. I just— I don’t trust them. I can’t. You know that. All they want is talk about what happened to me and Steve, I just can’t! I can’t!”

“I know. I still wish you would change your mind on that because it could actually help you but, Buck... I wasn’t talking about a doctor for your head.”

“Oh.” Bucky nodded weakly. “Oh… Ok? What for then?”

“What you said to Mandlakhe... About doing you a favor with the spear—”

You can even bring that spear of yours and fuck me open with it...

Guy like me? Who knows... Maybe I’ll like that, too...

Bucky felt his own face grow uncomfortably hot.