Against The Wall

Inspired by the plurk meme: Your character is minding their own business (or maybe not), when another shoves them up against a wall. To kiss them, fuck them, or fight them. What happens next is up to you.

1. Tag with your character's name, fandom, and preferences in the subject
2. Tag out to others, don't be shy
3. Remember, this meme can be gen, shippy, smutty, or whatever you make of it
4. Profit

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[ Bucky grunted as she took hold of him and slammed him back against the wall. He wanted to use his strength, exert his power and force to show her that he was capable of defending her the way an Alpha would be, the way he would have been if that was still what he was. He still had that drive to protect, the same will she had, and it had his hackles all the way up, but she had him in hand, put him where he needed to be, where no other Alpha could. No other Alpha would have been able to stand it, frankly. It was emasculation for an Omega to be this strong, but she was able to do something about it where another might not, and he needed to be reminded of where his place was.

Didn't mean he didn't feel it, though, that urge of protectiveness, the fire that pushed him to be angry with her for putting herself in danger. He'd put himself at risk too, but only as much as her. But it was worse to think that she didn't trust him in the field. That was enough to make him snarl all over again. Protective as it was, it was belittling, and while another Omega might have submitted to it wholesale, Bucky didn't. Couldn't. Wouldn't. ]

I'm a soldier. I'm not sitting up there on the other end of a rifle because I can't handle myself down here. I'm up there because I'm a damn good shot, because it lets me see things you can't and put a stop to them before they go to hell. But if you can't trust me to do my job then I can't be up there. Do you have any idea... Of course you do. You know what it's like to watch something happening in front of you and not be able to stop it.

[ Invoking her experiences with Kilgrave was vicious, but it needed to be said, because it was close to the feeling he had on the other end of the scope. She had to understand it, not just so this didn't happen again, but so she knew how it felt every time he took up that position, held that gun in his hands and looked down on a battle from 'up there safe'. Hand to hand combat didn't come close to the terror and repeated trauma of his rifle work. It wasn't safe, not by any means. ]

At the end of a rifle that's what it's like. And it's every time. Every fight. Every bad guy. The only thing stopping me from being completely helpless to do anything at all is the trigger, and you stopped me from using it.

[They were going to have to have a talk when they got back, both about what she felt and what he felt. Lay it all out when their blood wasn't singing from the heat of battle and blood wasn't spilled, making both of them extra edgy.

That statement, however, had her letting go of him and taking a step back, feeling as if he'd just kicked her right in the stomach, a flashback of a voice in her ear and the feel of hands that made her want to lash out, punch out just to make sure he wasn't anywhere near her. But Kilgrave was always with her. In her head. He was dead, gone, killed by her own hands and she'd never be rid of him. Even with Bucky wrapped around her some nights, she still woke up in a sweat, shivering, needing to leave to go to the bathroom and rattle off street names. It was a low blow and he knew it, but... maybe he needed to go that low. Because that did actually sink in to her how he felt in a way that maybe patient talking wouldn't.

There was a definitely wounded look on her face when she met his eyes, something deep and painful making it hard to breathe, but she came back at him, pinning him back to the wall and grabbing his face in her hands. She kissed him, hard, hard enough that her lip caught on his tooth and she tasted blood, but she needed him in that moment to erase the other. A half sob, then she softened it, turned the kiss back into something less punishing for both of them, then broke it to rest her forehead on his.]

Don't ever tell me I don't trust you, Bucky. I trust you with my life. And what's more, I trust you with yours and that's infinitely more precious to me.

[Finally, she drew back, ignoring the sting in her shoulder, the almost panic attack she'd had. She lifted a hand to brush dirt off the side of his face. Dirt. Blood. Something that didn't belong there.]

You know my nightmares. This is yours. I don't want anything from this place touching you ever again. They did enough. They left enough marks. I'm... I'm trying to keep the worst of it away from you. I didn't think that- well. That guy pissed me off.

[It was an apology, of sorts. The best she could do when there were bodies around them and he'd sucker punched her. But it clarified something for her.]

[ It was a low blow, and as much as he regretted it the second he said it, he also knew it was the only way that she could possibly understand how it felt, the absolute helplessness of it. But she rallies, looks back into his eyes and finds something honest there in the way he holds her gaze, so that when they crash together again it's so much more earnest and desperate. She kissed him, draws blood, and he gasps sharply, but she needs this. She needs it. That dark menace, the unspoken thing that they both know lingers in her trauma, is a passenger in their kiss for a moment or two, as she holds him in place and draws on him for her own strength, grounding herself in the familiar, safe taste of his mouth and his blood.

Finally the kiss softens, and breaks, and Bucky is careful not to move as she speaks, just breathing to calm himself as well as still some of her rage by association. ]

I'd feel the same way. If there was something of what happened to you I could smash into bits I'd do it, and I... I'm glad you're doing it for me. That I don't have to be in it. It's just... It's not a catharsis if I lose you to it somewhere along the way. If that happened it'd be just one more thing HYDRA took from me.

[ His fingers came up, carefully brushing against her forehead, teasing back a few strands of damp hair from a streak of someone else's blood. The fact that she has fought for him, drawn blood for him, isn't lost for a second. He's wanted this. He's wanted to mean this to somebody, even before he'd discovered his Alpha status had been ripped from him. Perhaps it makes sense, a flaw he'd carried with him all this time, a hunger for someone to love him and fight for him. It had made him so damn loyal to Steve, hadn't it?

Now that purview is Jess', and hers alone. Bucky can feel the flare of her devotion for him, the quiet and wrecked passion, the receding panic, but it's when he lifts his head just slightly that he gets a flash of something. A memory, perhaps. A flicker of old pain in his head. ]

That door. [ He gestures toward it with a tilt of his chin, an old steel door leading to a room. ] There's high grade electrical cables running through the wall above it.

[ Bucky knew exactly what kind of gear would be on the other side, knew what it would do to his Alpha to see it, but they were here to dismantle this place and the people running it, and that meant destroying HYDRA's technology, too. ]

[Bucky hadn't been slow to let her in. Once those marks had been laid and they'd accepted each other, the next few days during his heat, he'd laid everything in his past out for her- in between the moments when they were both too busy to talk. He'd shared his trauma, his pain, his still open wounds with her and she'd done the same. Something that had been so impossible for her before became like breathing with him; trusting someone.

So when he mentioned the cables and she saw that flash of pain, her head turned towards the door and a seething rage took over her. She turned back to him, resting her head against his for a moment, drawing in his scent as she licked the taste of their blood off her lips before giving him one soft, quick peck.]

Stay behind me.

[The order came out, and she had to close her eyes again and take a deep breath.]

Please. We'll do it together, but for this, I go in first.

[And then she'd take her time dismantling and destroying something that had spent decades destroying him. If anyone was in there tinkering away, they'd better hope she never got her hands on them, because the people that caused him that pain, that treated him like some toy... those people were the ones she'd get her hands wet and red-stained for again.]

[ It would have been impossible to hide all of his traumas from her, and it's better like this. The exposure, understanding each other, and trusting each other with those secrets? It was necessary to the bond they had to build with each other, so that she knew and he knew that the ways in which they responded to certain stimuli wasn't the fault of anything they'd specifically done. Considering the type of traumas, it had to be done. There were too many triggers that could be pulled accidentally, and it was healthier for them both to know.

She saw it when his expression flickered, perhaps by now familiar, the recollection of a memory that was cold and sharp and full of electrocution but not much clarity. She knows and he can smell her anger, sultry as a thunderstorm rising from her like ozone singing in the frenetic air, after the lightning strike but just before the thunderclap. She's angry for him. It's even enough to cut a slither of arousal through his own anxiety of what he knows is beyond the door. ]

You go first.

[ He agreed. He couldn't have done it if he wanted to, couldn't take a step toward the door until she had, trailing quietly behind her, turning his back to flank her properly as he checks the other paths in and out of the building. They can't both have their attention on the door, and he has to trust her to take that part over to a certain degree. Besides, if he was looking in that direction he might have hesitated, might not be able to follow.

How many times had he bowed his head obediently and walked through doors just like this one, designed to resist the beating a super soldier with a metal arm might give them? How many times had he climbed into the chair willingly and taken the bit between his teeth, or been forced down at gunpoint by yelling handlers when his time between wipes had been left for a little too long? It was a room of agony and torture, yes, but more than that it was a room of submission to those tortures, by force or by pure, mindless obedience, and neither were memories he was in a hurry to recall right now. Surrendering to the terror of them would make him a worse soldier, and only put his Alpha in more danger than they already were in just being here. ]

[Anger is a familiar feeling for her, even though it has many subtle ranges, a wealth of flavors that intermingled with it to make it vary; from mild annoyance at someone babbling to the cashier in line ahead of her to the blinding fury of righteous retribution at the actions someone had taken against someone she loved. She had so few of those, so few ties to anything solid, and he'd become something so valuable to her so quickly... the idea of him suffering for years and her not doing anything about it made a sour taste creep up the back of her throat. She wished she'd known sooner. Wished she'd met him sooner. Wished a lot of things hadn't happened, but then she had to claw that wish back because without both their pain and trauma, neither of them would be there now.

One day, maybe she'd be willing to look at if she'd be able to give him up for that 'what if'. Today wasn't that day. Today was the day she made her way over to that door, hands curled into fists and heat emanating off her as she stormed towards the door. That lick of arousal she picked up from him only added another edge to her fury. Honed her temper to a laser point as she kicked the door. Once only dented it, but the second boot had the older metal twisting in and flying into the recesses that were lit with the gash of glaring outside light and the muted yellowing aged bulbs that were laced around the upper walls.

And there in the middle of the room was a caged chair. A glass enclosure hovered above it on hydraulics, the chair in the center, plugged in like some macabre dental abomination. A low pitched growl was coming from her and she had no control over it in that moment. She saw movement out of the corner of her eye behind an operational panel and she didn't even look fully before her arm was up, the gun she'd had tucked in the back of her jeans as a backup out and drawn before conscious effort had been put into it. A threat to her Omega. A goddamn torturer to the person she loved.

The shot rang out and she watched as the man in the lab coat looked myopically surprised, eyes huge behind goggles, mouth gaping before he crumpled down, hand over the hole in his belly, a grunt leaving him as he hit the ground.]

Fuck you, Dr. Dickless.

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To the wall

Against The Wall

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I am the slowwwwest, I'm so sorry!

Never apologize. Always worth waiting for ♥

<3!

When it's worth it, it's worth it.