#if bucky can survive falling off a moving train and losing an arm so can tech🤬 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wkemeup · 3 years

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The Only Kindness

summary: In the early days of Bucky’s captivity in Hydra, the only comfort he knows is the kindhearted doctor assigned to mend his wounds. At least when he's with her, he knows he isn’t alone. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 9.7k warnings: torture, canon level violence, unwanted sexual advances, hydra's attempts to brainwash bucky, hella angst, a/n: this is meant to sit in the world of canon and what we know eventually happens to Bucky at Hydra sooo do with that what you will. I am genuinely really proud of this one so I hope you can forgive me for the pain I cause

The first thing Bucky remembered every morning when the sting of florescent lights woke him in a cold sweat was that the arm attached to his shoulder was not his own. The realization of it hurt worse than the day before; with unforgiving metal seared into his skin, leaving behind bubbled scars and a revolting, oozing smell.

It weighed him down, slumped on his spine, pulled at his neck, and he struggled to even push himself upright. Sitting upon the thin mattress laid amongst an otherwise baron room, Bucky supposed he might have preferred the floor if not for the dark red stain at the center of the concrete.

Then, the familiar clicking of locks echoed against the walls and Bucky gritted his teeth as a stout man with rounded features and an arrogant grin strolled into the room – no, the cell – alongside two men strapped with rifles.

He clutched to the solid metal of his arm as if holding it might take the pressure off his shoulder, might subside the pain as it spread through his veins, or stop the twitching in his cheek as he tried to stifle the pain, but it was no use. He held on anyway in favor of wrapping a hand around the scientist’s throat.

“Ah, good morning, Sergeant Barnes,” Zola greeted, though there was something unpleasant in his tone. A threat, perhaps. A taunt. It was always something of the sort.

Bucky could barely muster the energy to look the man in the eye, but as he did, it was hidden under a dark, loathing glare. He spat on the floor by Zola’s feet.

“Go to hell.”

Zola jumped back and brushed at the toe of his shoe. It was amusing, at least, to see the rage boil in the man’s chest; all red faced and round and steaming from the ears. Though Bucky’s triumph was shorted lived as Zola waved a single hand at the armed guards beside him.

They lunged forward and with heavy hands, clawed Bucky into their grip by his biceps. He met concrete within seconds; the red stain laid beneath him. His knees barely had time to heal from the day before and they stung as he struggled under the guards’ grasp, raw skin and blistering burns shielded by paper thin fabric.

His face was pushed down into the stone and for a strange moment there was relief; it was cool to the touch, a break from the feverish heat on his brow.

But then, while a guard pinched at the nape of Bucky’s neck, nearly choking the air straight out of him and the other jabbed a knee to his spine, he remembered there was no relief within Hydra.

“You have a long day ahead of you,” Zola announced, a smirk growing upon his face as Bucky let out a hollowed whine. It slipped past his lips before he could smother it down. He knew then that he had lost whatever game they were playing; the win-lose of a man in chains to his captors with scalpels in their hands and venom on their tongues.

He didn’t know how long it had been since the fall; since icy waters and plummeting down to a ravine he wished most nights had swallowed him whole. He didn’t know how many times he was cut open in an unsterilized room, thrown onto a rusting metal table and operated on with cheap anesthetic. He didn’t know how many times he was strapped into a chair that set fire to his veins and left him feeling numb and empty, how many times he felt a lingering sense of dread he couldn’t quite place.

He didn’t know much at all, really.

But he knew his name. He knew his serial number. He knew Steve would come for him like he did before. He knew he’d get through this. He had to. He didn’t have a choice.

“We have much to do,” Zola announced, admiring how Bucky’s face pressed down into the concrete, how the prickles in the stone scraped against his cheek and cut at his skin— pleased to see a man brought to his knees, bowing before the greatness of Hydra. It brought Zola a sense of pride whether the Sergeant resisted or not. He would give in soon enough.

The guards didn’t loosen their grip on Bucky’s arms as they yanked him back to his knees. They didn’t give him a chance to stand either before they started to drag him from the cell.

The grip on his right arm was sure to leave bruises behind, ones to accompany the mess of blue and purple coloring his skin, but it was the pain on his left that rendered him paralyzed. It felt like his arm was being ripped straight from his body, pulled at every nerve ending until they snapped. He could hardly move.

It wasn’t until Zola made a sharp left at the end of the hall that a familiar sense of dread dropped into Bucky’s stomach. Whether it was fear, panic, resilience, he wasn’t sure, but he started to fight back as they neared a dark red door with six locks running up the side.

“No,” he gaped, barely a whisper, but it caught Zola’s attention.

Bucky thrashed in the men’s grip, using his weight as leverage despite the searing pain in his shoulder and the blood trickling down his ribs from where metal fused to flesh. His heels dug into the concrete, trying to catch against the wall to slow them down, to stop what he knew was coming.

Zola merely smiled.

It was no use, and perhaps Bucky knew that from the start, but he couldn’t be strapped into that chair without a fight. He still didn’t know its purpose but he knew it brought him pain. It disoriented him, made him forget his own name and the monsters that chained him. It forced him to remember all over again that he was held prisoner, thousands of miles away from home, presumed dead, and he couldn’t -- he couldn’t do it anymore.

“Please,” Bucky gasped and it sounded foreign in his own voice – broken. He hated it. He despised how his voice cracked, how he fell to his knees in front of his captors and begged.

Zola grabbed a firm hold of Bucky's chin, stump fingers digging into his cheeks and demanding attention. As he pulled in closer, Bucky caught sight of something strange in the reflection of Zola’s glasses.

He didn’t recognize the man staring back at him; hair grown and wild, unkept beard on his face, dirt and blood covering most of his skin. Amongst the scratches in the glass and the clouds of dirt, the reflection of the man looked tired, with hallowed eyes and sunken cheeks. He wasn’t strong enough to fight back. He wouldn’t survive if he tired.

Bucky slumped in the guards’ arms.

“That’s what I thought,” Zola jeered, a lingering chuckle etched into the trail of his voice. He waved a hand at the guards and Bucky was placed into the chair, all dead weight and positioned like a doll.

Thick, metal bars strapped down around Bucky’s wrists, his biceps, his ankles to hold him in place. He did his best to let go of himself, to find somewhere far beyond the walls of this room, away from the men who ripped him to pieces and broke him to the bare bones. He imagined something better, safer, where he was clean shaven and in fresh clothes, where Steve was waving from the end of the street and the war long behind them, but the dream was torn from him as soon as the panels clamped against his temples.

Electricity jolted through his system and his whole body tensed. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

But he could scream.

It ripped through his lungs and he was certain he’d break straight through the mouth guard and shatter his teeth if they didn’t turn off the machine soon. The sound echoing through the room was strained, broken, and Bucky might have mistaken it for nails to a chalkboard if he didn’t feel the burn in the back of his throat.

He started to lose time, unsure if it was on for seconds or hours. It was blinding. It was all-consuming. It was swallowing him whole.

“Enough!” a voice broke through. A woman’s. It wasn’t one Bucky recognized.

“No, keep it on! He can take more.” Zola.

“Are you insane!” the voice shouted again. “You’ll kill him!”

Let them.

The thought startled Bucky but it slipped from him in the seconds it took to arrive; searing pain, white hot fire washing through every muscle down to his bones. His eyes began to flutter closed, a strange sort of emptiness pulling him under, a darkness he couldn’t place, and he welcomed the escape.

There was yelling again, though this time it was coming was across the room. The machine began to power down, the whirring sounds of electricity in his ears leaving him with a numbing silence. The dizziness took hold, the hollowness, and he was surprised to find a woman staring back at him, her hands wrapped around the lever that pulled him from the fire.

“What the hell are you doing!” Zola roared, accent thick and slurring his words together. He bounded forward, attempted to push past the woman but she held her ground, hands planted on her hips.

“I’m saving his life,” she grunted back, unfazed by Zola’s finger pointing up into her face. She swatted it away, ignoring the shock upon his rounded features. “You brought me here for a reason, didn’t you? Let me do my damn job.” She glanced around the room, eyed the men with guns aimed at the ready, barrels trained in her direction. “Give me the room.”

“Not going to happen,” Zola snapped but quickly silenced as she shot him a glare that had him cower several steps in retreat. His cheeks were burned red.

The woman turned back to the man in the chair and he slumped limply in its clutches, her narrowed eyes centering on the rapid rise and fall of his chest. She held up two fingers, eyeing him carefully before she slowly moved to press them against his throat.

He winced before she could even touch him, flinching at the air itself, and she paused, bringing her hand back to her chest. She gave him a minute to watch as she demonstrated what she was trying to do by pressing the tips of her fingers to her own neck.

She tried again and this time she held his stare; calming aura nestled between the vibrant shades in her eyes, a gentle kind of patience he didn’t expect, and he hardly noticed her fingertips against his skin as she felt for his pulse, feather light and paper thin. They were cool to the touch, a comfort in the burning heat of metal surrounding him and he caught himself before he could lean into her palm.

“His heart rate is through the roof,” she said tensely, turning back to Zola and withdrawing her hand. “Unless you want your multi-million-dollar project to go to waste, clear out before he has a goddamn heart attack.”

Zola eyed her suspiciously in what appeared to be a competition of wills. She straightened her back, arms folding over her chest, and she towered over the scientist’s small frame. He glared up at her and the fury was palatable on his face; upper lip twitching, eyes narrowed, hands curling into fists.

She held her ground.

“Fine,” Zola grumbled, waving a hand to the line of men behind him until they bring their weapons down to their sides. “Give the doctor the room.”

As if she were waiting for the men to leave, she exhaled a breath like she had been holding it for quite some time. When she let her hands come back to her sides, puncture marks were left in her palms.

“I’m leaving a man behind for your safety,” Zola threw over his shoulder at he reached the door, almost like a threat.

She swallowed; jaw clenched. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Maybe not today, but it will be.”

Then, he was gone.

The door locked shut behind him and a single guard remained by the door, positioned with his finger on the trigger.

“Finally,” she exhaled, turning back with a gentle smile on her face that felt almost unsettling to be in such a cold and unforgiving place. “Can you tell me your name, soldier?”

“Uhh,” was all that left his lips and he hardly recognized his own voice. He searched in the back of his head for the answer, felt it on the tip of his tongue, and still… nothing. He glanced back up at her with clenched teeth because he knew what would happen next, what always happened next.

But instead of a harsh hand to the side of his face or the blunt edge of a weapon to his crown, she nodded, offered him a sad sort of smile, and simply said, “that’s alright.”

She glanced down at the clamps restraining him to the chair. His skin was raw underneath, bleeding a little, and she frowned. It crinkled up into her forehead, pursed out at her lips, and he decided he liked it much better when she smiled.

“Your name is Sergeant James Barnes,” she said fondly and it sounded familiar as she said it, but it still felt distant— wrong in some way. She seemed to notice the contemplation on his face. “It’ll come back to you soon. Might take longer than the last time, but it will. They haven’t perfected the science of the chair yet, it seems.”

There was a resentment laced into her words as she glared back at the armed man standing guard with disgust. She softened as she turned back to face the man she called James. It was within that moment the anger washed from her features, a kindness replacing the hatred, and she ran her fingers on the edge of the chair before she pulled away.

“I’m going to undo these, okay?” she told him and he was surprised that she waited for his nod before adjusting the mechanics on the machine until the metal snapped open and a rush of cold air swept against the blistering skin. He hissed at the sting of it.

“Come,” she requested, gesturing to the examination table in the corner of the room. “Let’s get you out of this thing, huh?”

He was thankful for that. He couldn’t stand the sharp edges anymore or the blistering heat of the arm rests. Her touch was so gentle he wondered if it could push right through him as she bent down to help tug his right arm over her shoulders.

Just as she nearly had him positioned well enough to get him to his feet, the guard standing in the corner of the room stepped forward, gun raised.

“I wouldn’t do that, ma’am.”

She clenched her jaw. “I’m fine. Let me work.”

“He’s dangerous,” the guard grunted back.

“He’s not going to hurt me,” she argued. There wasn’t a trace of hesitancy in her voice, even as she turned to the man hanging off her arms. “Are you, Sergeant Barnes?”

He shook his head.

“See?” she gestured. “Now leave us be.”

The guard stepped back, lowered his weapon, and she smiled.

“Alright then, James,” she started, “think you can help me get you to that table over there? I know you’ve lost some muscle mass but you’re still pretty heavy.”

A short ghost of a laugh escape as he let himself lean on her shoulder, allowing her to guide him towards the table. It surprised him as it left his chest, the feeling of laughter, because he hadn’t so much as smiled since the fall. It hurt, almost. But it was a nice kind of hurt.

She helped him sit on the table, just high enough to give her decent leverage, and he spotted a bag filled with what appear to be medical supplies. It contained with what he would expect; a stethoscope, bandages, depressors, but there were also needles, and shiny metal tools that made him clench his hands around the lip of the table.

“I’m a doctor,” she said, noticing his stare. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Zola’s a doctor,” he muttered back feebly, sharp images of lying awake on a cold, metal table much like the one he currently sat upon plagued his mind, memories of scalpels in his shoulder and needles in his arms.

She nodded, contemplating what he said before she frowned and countered, “Zola’s a mad scientist with a God complex.”

A smile tugged at his lips. It broke a little, but it remained.

“You can call me Y/n if you like,” she said as she began digging through her bag. She found the stethoscope and placed the ends in her ears. “I’m going to press this to your chest, alright? It might be a little cold.”

She exhaled a breath on the side of it for a moment to try and warm it, rubbing it with the palm of her hand. He was mesmerized by the small details; how she positioned herself strategically between him and the armed guard behind her, how she told him exactly what she was doing before she did it, how she gave him time to prepare, how she hadn’t once touched him without asking first.

He didn’t understand her or why she was here, but he was thankful.

He nodded at her and she leaned in closer, pressing the piece to his sternum. It had a slight chill to it but he could still feel the warmth left behind from her breath. He took a deep breath in as she instructed. She took her time, slowly moving to his ribs, and then his back. He took more deep breaths, felt the pulsing of his heart steady under her touch.

“Looks good all things considering,” she told him. Her eyes drifted to the burn marks on his right wrist, fingers ghosting over the reddened marks and her lips tug down into a frown. She masked it as she faced him again, pushing out a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Might as well attend to this, too, don’t you think?”

Yeah, might as well.

He offered her his hand.

He sat quietly while she worked, listening to her hum softly under her breath. She was impossibly gentle with him, so delicate he could hardly feel it until it was gone. Her hands were a little cold but he found them soothing against the burns. The alcohol she placed on the wound stung, made him grit his teeth and grip to the table’s edge, but she moved quickly, wincing at the way he sucked in a harsh breath as if his pain meant something to her.

When she was finished, she wrapped his wrist with a bandage from her bag and gently tapped on his knee.

“Not a lot my patients would have sat still through that without some kind of numbing agent,” she grinned, praise in her voice, smile on her lips, and it sent a flutter through his chest. “You did good, James.”

He didn’t want to tell her that he’d known worse, that the pain of alcohol to his wounds was nothing in comparison to the mutilation on his arm or the electricity of the chair. So, he focused on something else, a distant memory edging its way back to the surface, something that didn’t lie within the pages of Hydra’s files.

“Bucky,” he choked out, voice a little dry. She raised an eyebrow. “My name… it’s Bucky.”

She smiled at that.

“Bucky,” she repeated, testing it on her lips, “it’s nice to meet you.”

***

It wasn’t the last time he saw Y/n.

No, he found himself under her care more days than not. It was a simple system, it seemed. Hydra would do its best to break Bucky to pieces and they’d send in Y/n to stitch him back up; glue him together with needle and thread or scotch tape and paper mâché. She did her best to heal him and while she could not cure every wound on his body, she gave him something he didn’t have before – something to look forward to.

A kind smile. A gentle hand. A voice so soft it nestled deep into his chest and warmed the hollow ache that had made a home by his heart.

Even through the pain, through the chair, through the long hours he spent overworked in a boxing ring, he knew she’d be waiting on the other side. It didn’t hurt as much when he thought of her, he realized – the only kindness he knew within Hydra.

They hadn’t attempted to use the chair on him in a while and for that he was grateful. To save him from the pain of the electricity and the emptiness that followed, but lately, to allow him to hold onto her memory. He didn’t want to forget her name, her kindness, her light within the darkest corners of hell.

He only ever saw her in short glimpses, brief moments when the guards pushed the boundaries too far and cracked open a scar that wouldn’t stop bleeding or dislocated his arm again or fractured another bone. They’d drag her into his room, rough hands on her wrists that made a knot form deep into Bucky’s stomach, and give her minutes to work before they hulled her away.

He healed quickly, he came to find. Certainly faster than he should. Maybe in another world he would have been pleased with this. A perfect soldier. Always ready for battle.

In this world, it meant shorter recovery between trainings. It meant pushing him beyond his limits and testing the extent of his newfound abilities. It meant few and distant meetings with the kind doctor whose smile made it impossibly difficult to despise every last ounce within Hydra.

***

A few weeks since their first meeting, Bucky found himself dragged by his wrists on a familiar path into what looked like a room much like his own, only there were a few small comforts inside; a bed, a desk, a lamp, and a series of books piled on a small dresser.

Y/n jumped up from the desk, pen falling to the concrete as she stared back at the guards, agape. “What the hell did you do to him?!”

They dropped Bucky to the ground, his own arms too weak to hold himself up, and felt the harsh crack of concrete to his jawline. Blood dripped down into his eyes, clouding his vision with crimson pools of red, but he could hear the quick patter of your bare feet as you slid down to the floor beside him, shooing away the guards.

Hands ghosted over his shoulders before you paused, watching the way he sighed into the cool embrace of concrete. She glared back up at the guards, waiting on their answer.

“He’s weak,” one of the guards spat, thick accent spewing down to land on Bucky’s bare skin. “The fist of Hydra is an embarrassment. He crumbles under pressure. He needs to be pushed, to be taught what he is.”

Bucky couldn’t quite register the way her hands curled up into fists or how a harsh exhale burned deep in her chest, but she swallowed it the best she could as she muttered, “get out.”

A toe nudged at Bucky’s leg – one of the guards behind him – and he groaned as it dug into a dark purple bruise from the days before.

“You’ve done enough,” she pressed again, swatting away his leg as he tried to push Bucky over to his back to see his good work. "Now leave.”

“You don’t give us orders, princess,” the other guard smirked, yellowed teeth bared.

“We’ll be back for him soon,” the first one said, nudging his friend to stand down. “Make sure he’s ready to go again tomorrow.”

The door slammed shut and within the echo, Bucky felt the cool touch of a breeze nestle against his skin. It was a relief, as kind as the concrete, that sat in sharp contrast to the burning heat on his skin.

“Are you alright, Sergeant Barnes?” an angelic voice called. It sounded muffled, and a bit distant, but it was one he recognized.

He nodded slowly, though the concrete scratched at his skin.

“You don’t look alright,” she countered, a touch of lightness in her tone and it came as a welcomed relief.

“You kidding? I look great,” Bucky teased, half muffled by the ground. She laughed, pressing a hand over her lips, and Bucky swore for the smallest of moments that all the pain had washed from his body completely.

He could hear her riffling around the room, gathering supplies and laying a blanket down by his side, then a pillow. She was talking to herself, words he couldn’t quite hear or understand, but they were a comfort nonetheless.

"Still with me Sergeant Barnes?"

“Bucky,” he grumbled, just as she came down to kneel beside him again. “S’my name, remember? I’m supposed to be the one with the memory problems here.”

There came that laugh again, though she tried to suppress it. “That’s not very funny, Bucky.”

“Give me an ounce of humor here, doll,” Bucky smirked. It ached in his lips where the split tore through, burned in his cheeks from the swelling on his face, but he didn’t mind. It wasn’t often he had much reason to smile these days. She seemed to bring it out of him.

Y/n smiled, shaking her head. “Think you can turn onto your back? I’ve got some cushioning here for you. I’m sorry I can’t lift you to the bed.”

“Nah, this is perfect.”

Bucky summoned as much strength as his body could muster as he pushed down into the concrete with his right hand. He started to shake as pressure burned into his left shoulder and he gritted his teeth, face contorting in a wash of pain as his smirk faded away in an instant.

She must have noticed because her hands slipped gently onto his right bicep, gently easing him to turn over the metal shoulder and lay onto his back. Her touch was so feather light, he questioned for a moment if it was even there at all, but then he felt a soft squeeze, the cool press of her palms, and he sighed.

Her hands were the only ones who did not mean him harm. She healed. She nurtured. She cared.

“What are they doing to you...”

Her voice was hardly a whisper, the shock on her face evident enough of the damage on his own. He didn’t want to imagine what he looked like, but he knew it was bad. It hurt to speak, hurt to even part his lips, and his vision was tunneled and dark, cast over in shadows, and somehow, she was still clear as day.

“Dunno,” he responded, recognizing the slur in his voice. “Training me for something, I think.”

She stilled; muscles rigid as she reached into her bag for something to bandage his wounds. He could see the contemplation on her face, the worry, but she swallowed it back, pushed out that gentle, reassuring smile he’d come to rely on and began to work on the cut along his cheekbone.

“It can’t be anything good, Bucky,” she said quietly, eyes flickering to the door as if she were worried about what laid on the other side. He knew the feeling well.

***

He forgot her for the first time a few days later.

The scars were starting to heal; the gashes open on his face just days before nothing but a thin discoloration on his skin. He knew the look on Zola’s face as he emerged in his cell that morning - smug and grim, eager to wipe away the decorated prisoner of war and turn him into something empty and broken. The smirk that crept up his face was unsettling, jarring, as it crinkled lined into his forehead and a vile look in his eye.

They slammed him down into the chair, locked the restraints into place, and he only spotted her rush into the room as the machine powered on. The horror in her eyes as she met his, the quick transition to rage as she turned to Zola, and the pain took over until it consumed him whole.

He lost some time because the next thing he knew, he was sitting on a metal table and the room had emptied, save for a single guard standing in the corner over the shoulder of a beautiful woman who eased a soothing gel onto the burns on his wrist.

He studied her as she worked, quietly humming to herself, telling him what she was doing before she dared to touch him in a voice so gentle it startled him. It was familiar, he realized, the delicate intricacies of her tone, the warmth in his chest when she touched him. He wasn’t afraid of her like he was the others. He didn’t flinch under her touch.

“Your heart rate is still pretty high,” she noted, her fingers pressed to the inside of his right wrist. “Can you take some deep breaths for me?”

She embellished her own, chest rising high as she inhaled, air blowing out from her mouth in the exhale. She nodded for him, something encouraging and kind, until he followed suit. But even through the tender smile upon her lips there was a sadness there, a disappointment, and it hurt him deep into his chest.

“I know you, don’t I?” he finally said after he mimicked a few of the breaths as she requested.

She smiled at that and he felt an instant relief. Something warm and gentle. Kind.

He narrowed his eyes upon the slight curve of her lips, drawing up to her eyes where he was met with a linger sense of calm, of peace, of reprieve. “Why don’t I remember you?”

She sighed, a cautious glance back at the guard behind her who seemed to be watching with the intent to overhear. Her eyes were downcast, a nervous brush of her tongue over her lower lip, and she pushed out a smile for him.

“You will, Bucky.”

He hoped that were true.

***

Bucky was barely tied together with string and tape, broken and bleeding and covered in bruises, and yet, a smile etched onto his broken lips as he turned to find Y/n stumbling into his cell. She shrugged off the grip of a guard with an aggravated huff before he slammed the door closed behind her.

She was no longer shocked by the state in which she often saw him. His accelerated healing made the brutal look of his mutilation a bit easier to swallow he supposed or perhaps he was getting used to it. It was like a mask he’d come to wear, fading in and out depending on the day, but always present. It didn’t seem to lessen the pain in her eyes as she sat down beside him, extending a hand towards his face to touch gently at the markings.

“I hate that they keep doing this to you,” she said softly, though there was a rage nestled into the crook of her tone. She shook her head, a tense breath exhaled as she reached into her bag. She pulled out a few swabs of gauze and alcohol wipes.

“M’alright,” Bucky slurred and it didn’t seem to help his case.

“They’re monsters.” Y/n dabbed at the gash on his forehead as gingerly as she could manage. Bucky didn’t mind the sting of it, not when she was touching him so tenderly, like she was handling something precious.

He’d figured out a while ago that she was just as much a part of Hydra as he was. He never dared to ask, but he’d seen the way she looked at Zola, how she despised him as an enemy. He’d seen the clothes she wore and how they were tattered on the seams, how they discolored with use, how she'd wear them over and over again while the men in the room wore pristine lab coats and freshly laundered suits. He’d seen the dark circles under her eyes, the knots in her hair, the way her collarbone began to protrude the longer he knew her.

She was a prisoner of Hydra, too.

“They’re monsters,” Y/n repeated, tears burning in her eyes and it warped deep into Bucky’s gut. He wanted to reach out and wipe them away. He wanted to make her smile again because she’d been nothing but a light for him and now, she was flickering and fading and he was certain it would destroy him completely until she uttered, “and... and so am I,” and his whole world fell apart.

“No,” Bucky shot back almost instantly. “Don’t say that. You’re not one of them.”

“I might as well be,” she said, brushing at the tears as they spilled down her cheeks. “I’m still complicit in what they’re doing to you – whatever that is. I’m still helping them.”

“They’d kill you,” Bucky argued. “They’d kill you if you tried to resist.”

“They’re practically killing you now! How is that any better?” She pressed her palms to her face, shielding herself from him and Bucky slid down onto the floor, kneeling on the concrete in front of her, and gently rested his hands on her knees. She struggled to catch her breath between the sobs. “I keep fixing you up just to send you back out there and—and—Bucky, I feel like I’m handing you over to slaughter and I can’t-- I can’t--”

“Stop, please,” Bucky begged. He could feel the splinter nestle into his heart, cracking at the edges as it tore a sliver down the center. It burned and ached and threatened to rip him to pieces worse than the foreign metal on his arm, worse than the guards on the other side of the door, worse than the chair that stole his name and his memories, because the woman who saved his life over and over again was crying and he simply couldn’t take it.

“Look at me,” he eased, drawing his hands up her thighs, along her arms, until he met her hands resting against her face. Gently, he pried his fingers under her palms and when he was met without resistance, he pulled them away from her face. “You are the only shred of good within this place. You are the only kindness I’ve known since they threw me on that table and remade me. You are the only thing keeping me going when they’re beating me within an inch of my life, the only thing I want to remember when they try to take away everything I know. Please, don’t think for a second that you’re one of them. You’re saving me, Y/n.”

Bucky wondered for a moment if he said too much as her lips parted into shock, her eyes staring at him shocked and wide. Her breaths were coming in slow and steady as she watched him, almost as if she were waiting for him to recant, but he held his ground.

“You are good, Y/n,” Bucky continued. He squeezed her hand in his right, letting his left fall down to his side to shield her from the evil from which it was born. “You're the reason I keep coming back.”

“I’m scared, Bucky,” she exhaled, voice so low, so shaken, he could barely hear it. She squeezed his hand back. “I’m scared of what they're going to do to you.”

“I’ll have you, won’t I?” he smiled, because it was all he had left. There were no guarantees, no promises he could make to ease her fears. “As long as I’ve got you with me, I’m okay.”

He just wanted her to smile again, to be the woman who fought against Zola in a crowded room of armed Hydra agents and won, who was fearless in the face of evil, and gentle and kind in her touch.

Bucky realized that the more time he spent with her, the more she’d grown to care for him, the more he’d found himself missing her— the more dangerous they were to one another. If Hydra knew...

“You have me,” she said suddenly, a stroke of confidence returning to her voice, drawing Bucky’s attention away from the door and the men that laid beyond it. Bucky met her eye and she raised a palm to his cheek, slow and steady, always giving him the time to prepare before she touched him even when it wasn’t necessary, even after he’d grown to trust her above anyone else. She cupped the side of his face, smiling sweetly for him, sadly, as she said, “as long as they’ll let me, Bucky. You’re not alone. You’ll have me.”

Her thumb traced over old scars she’d mended, over raised edges and dried blood from the mess left behind by the dozen Hydra agents he’d met earlier that day. The tenderness within her touch was unlike anything he knew how to quantify. It sat in such contrast to the hands of men who battered and beat him within an inch of his life, to the torture of the chair, to the scalpel in the hands of mad scientists with god complexes.

There was something in her touch. Something that felt a lot like love.

Bucky found himself leaning in closer, wanting to close the space between them because any space at all was simply too much. He wanted to engulf her into his arms, protect her from the evils that waited for them outside these walls, take her away to somewhere warm and safe, somewhere she didn’t have to check over her shoulder when she smiled. It terrified him how badly he wanted it because he knew there were no fantasies in Hydra, no dreams, no happy endings. He knew it would be taken from him eventually, she would be taken from him, but it didn’t stop him from clinging on as tight as he could.

His lips touched hers, broken and splintered, and still, beautiful. He could taste the salty tang of her tears against her lips, her fingers curling around his long, unkempt hair and twisting along his scalp, breathing him in. There was a sanctuary within her arms, under her touch, that seemed impossible within these walls, and yet, here she was.

Tangible. Real. Kissing him as if he could be ripped from her at any second.

And he was.

The door swung open and Bucky jolted away from her. Y/n jumped back against the bed frame, her head hitting the cement wall.

In the frame of the door stood a guard Bucky had become familiar with; blonde, broad, reminded him a bit of Steve if it weren’t for the cold, dead look in his eyes. The burn mark across his jawline helped to obstructed the similarities.

The guard’s eyes lingered a little longer on Y/n, focusing on the quick rise and fall of her chest, the slight swell in her lips, the mess in her hair, before he gritted his teeth and turned to Bucky.

“Times up, Soldat,” he grunted, wasting no time as he pulled a wand from his belt, flipped a switch at the end, and burned the jolts of electricity into Bucky’s side. He barely registered the desperate crack in Y/n’s voice as she begged for the guard to stop.

Then – darkness.

***

“We need to be more careful.”

“They’ll find out how I feel for you and they'll hurt you.”

“I can’t lose you, Bucky.”

He couldn’t get the words out of his head. Familiar voices: a man’s and a woman’s. He’d heard them spoken aloud; of that he was certain. But they were distant, far away, as if he’d heard them uttered on a film screen in passing. They couldn’t be his own memories. He was a blank slate. He was empty.

A woman stood across from him, approaching him slowly as the machine powered down. It was loud in his ears, echoing enough to pulse tremors into the back of his head. He didn’t dare show an ounce of the pain he felt. He’d come to know the consequences of that, even if he couldn’t quite remember what they were.

“I’m going to help you to the table, alright?” the woman said, gesturing to the metal desk to her left. There it was again— that familiarity.

She smiled kindly at him, as if looking into the face of a man she knew, but he did not know her. She must have sensed his hesitancy because she held up her hands out for him to see.

“I just want to examine you. Make sure you’re okay. Can I do that?”

He narrowed his eyes on the woman, listening intently to her heartbeat. It was a strange sound, one he shouldn’t be privileged to hear, but he found the skill useful. He could listen for the inflections in the rhythm, pulse points and skips that told him when a person was lying.

Hers was steady. Even. He nodded.

He was surprised at how easily he allowed her to guide him to the table, how he didn’t question as he let her place a hand on his inner wrist to check his pulse, how he didn’t flinch when she approached the scars on his shoulder. It was like he knew the routine, understood the subtle intricacies in her gestures warning him of what she was about to do before she even laid a hand on him.

A relief was evident in his muscles. He felt a calmness wash over him the longer she stood at his side, recording his vitals, running a hand soothingly along his arm. It seemed personal, the way she touched him, like she was preserving something – or guiding something home.

He wanted to ask her name, why she was treating him so kindly when all he knew within these walls was the cruelty of violent men, when the guard who stood at the back corner of the room cleared his throat.

“You almost done, sweetheart?” The guard spat the pet name like an insult and the kind woman standing beside the Soldier flinched. She tensed quickly after that, mustering out a brave face as she turned back to the armed guard defiantly.

“I’ll be done when I’m done, Bronski.”

The Soldier wanted to smile, though he wasn’t sure why. A swell of pride beamed in his chest as Bronski’s smirk dissipated, replaced with something colder, darker; a bruise to his ego. The woman turned back to the Soldier, exhaled a heavy breath and offered him a short smile; calming, reassuring. The edges of his lips started to curve in response until –

Bronski crossed the room in four long strides, grabbed a tight hold of her arm and yanked her swiftly away from the Soldier. She collided against his chest, caged against him under the firm hold of his grip.

“You think you can mouth off to me, bitch?” Bronski sneered, shoving her against the desks at the far side of the room. Viles of serums and chemicals spilled over at the impact, glass shattering, and the Soldier began to stand from his position across the room, his hand curling into fists.

“Stop looking at him! He’s not going to help you,” Bronski taunted as her eyes flashed back at the Soldier, pleading at some unknown force he couldn’t quite understand, though he listened to its call. Bronski towered over her, easily overpowering her frame, and pinned her to the wall.

The Soldier took another step forward, another inch closer to what he was sure were near fatal consequences, but there was a voice screaming in the back of his head, an instinct he couldn’t drown out, a desperate need to protect a woman he didn’t know.

“You think we didn’t notice, huh?” Bronski growled, his hand sliding down her side, tracing over the curves at her waist and the Soldier felt a sudden twist in his stomach, a dead weight sinking him into the ground at the sight. “You think we can’t tell you got it hot for the asset? He’s weak. Pathetic. Why don’t you try being with a real man instead? I’ll show you a good time, princess...”

Her eyes were on the Soldier, holding his gaze though she was shaking; trembling and afraid. He didn’t like that.

“Get away from her.”

Bronski froze. He managed a slow glance over his shoulder to find the Soldier standing just a few feet away, hands clenched at his sides, fuming as his eyes flickered between the Hydra agent and the woman he held pinned to the wall.

“Don’t be a fucking hero, Soldat,” Bronski spat back.

But the Soldier did not move.

“Get away from her,” he repeated, his voice low, mechanical. He could feel the rush of adrenaline building in his veins, the chaos of the rapid thumping of his pulse. He wasn’t used to such reactions, such intensity, when all he’d come to know was a crippling emptiness. It was unpleasant.

“What are you going to do about it?” Bronski taunted, a sick smirk upon his face. He dismissed the Soldier, didn’t dare to think he’d disobey direct orders, and turned back to the woman.

She tried to slither out of his hold, but his grip on her wrists was so tight his nails had dug puncture marks into her skin. She was shaking, tears burning into reflective lenses over the gentle hue of her eyes; kind eyes that should not bare such a weight.

Bronski leaned in closer, his mouth pressing against her neck, her whole body stiffening at the touch, and the Soldier snapped.

He rushed at them, his left hand clamping down around Bronski’s neck until he started to gag. Bronski released her wrists, allowing her to sink to the floor in a fallen heap. Bronski scratched at the hand at his neck, gasping for air as his skin turned bright red, then blue, but he was only met with metal. It could not feel. It could only maim.

There was a rage storming inside the Soldier, a mission he’d assigned for himself, as he threw Bronski across the room. It didn’t take much effort. The Soldier was stronger than most men. They underestimated him, believed him to be feeble and weak because he was submissive. But not now. Not when they threatened her.

“Soldat!” Bronski choked out, his voice damaged. Broken windpipe. The Soldier smiled.

Slowly, he took a knee at Bronski’s side, grabbed a firm hold of his collar for leverage, and barreled the closed end of his fist into the man’s face until he could no longer see the smirk that had pressed upon his mouth as he dared to touch his girl. He didn’t stop until Bronski was no longer begging, until he was silent, and blood caked between the panels of metal in his fist, until he heard a voice calling behind him—

“Bucky! Bucky, stop!”

He froze. There was that name again...

He blinked a few times, a sharp piercing in the back of his head painful enough to obscure his vision and he dropped Bronski from his hold. A hand slid down over his shoulders, guiding him away from the body on the floor. It was that same familiar touch; one he knew well.

“Bucky, look at me.”

He did.

Her hand pressed sweetly to the side of his face, like she was trying to memorize him. He leaned into the touch, something he was sure he hadn’t done in years, and yet, within her arms it felt like the most natural thing in the world, like maybe he’d done it a dozen times before.

When he met her eyes again, he understood why.

“Y/n?”

She nodded, tears spilling over her cheeks as she threw herself into his arms. She molded so perfectly against him, his healer, his savior. Bucky knew they wouldn’t have much time before the Hydra infantry arrived and discovered what he’d done. He didn’t dare spare a glance back at the body on the ground.

“Y/n... I—”

The doors swung open, slamming in echoing shocks against the walls, and chaos ensued. Swarms of armed Hydra agents ascended into the room and tore Y/n from his arms, separating them as they restrained Bucky back into the chair. It was the only thing that could hold him.

“Leave her alone!” Bucky roared, that same rage returning to him in fire as two guards pinned Y/n’s arms behind her back, holding her steady as she desperately fought against their hold. “Get your hands off of her!”

Zola appeared at the frame of the door, eyes narrowing on Bucky. The room fell silent.

“Impossible.” He followed Bucky’s eyes to where the guards were restraining Y/n. “The programming should not have failed so soon after he was wiped. How?”

“He’s got a crush on the doc, sir,” one of the guards reported snidely. Bucky recognized him from the many trips he spent dragged along the hallways smearing blood into the concrete before he was dropped off at Y/n’s door.

“Interesting.” Zola crossed the room, hands grasped behind his back as he paced. His eyes fell on Y/n, studying her. “And is it... mutual?”

She didn’t respond, though when her tear-filled eyes flashed over to Bucky, he had his answer.

“Wipe him,” Zola ordered.

The machine started to power up and Bucky found himself fighting against the restraints though he knew it would do no use. Tears were openly streaming down Y/n’s face as she watched him, his name on her lips as she desperately tried to break the guard’s hold on her.

Zola seemed unbothered by the scene. If anything, he was amused, like he was watching lab rats in a cage. “Separate them. I don’t want her interfering with his programming again. We’ll make use of her when the time is right.”

Bucky tried to call her name, but the electricity had already taken hold, submerging him into the darkness.

***

The Soldier was used to his routine. Breakfast at dawn. Then training. Dinner at sundown. Sleep. It was reliable. Simple. The Soldier found a peace in that.

It had been months since he’d seen anyone outside of the two guards at his cell, the parade of uncontrollable human experiments, and the short, stout scientist. It was better this way, they told him. Less stimulation. He was important, meant for incredible things to better humanity. They needed him focused and alert.

He had little room for anything else. Focus on the mission at hand. Complete the task. Reward will follow.

Something as trivial as memories got in the way of that. The Soldier could not afford such a distraction. He was not tied down by a name or a family, by relationships or desires. He was a weapon. Made to be used. He was not capable of more.

“I want to have you looked over before we send you out for your mission today, Soldat,” the scientist said as he examined the Soldier from across the room. The man carried power within Hydra but he was small, cowardly, and he would not dare enter a room with the Soldier without a guard in place. He gestured to the door and the guard with a thick burn down his jaw moved towards it. Blonde hair, blue eyes, broad. He seemed vaguely familiar, though it felt distasteful in his mouth.

A woman was pushed through the doors and into the baron room. She shook off the grip of a Hydra agent with a grunt before she realized where she was. Her eyes fell on the Soldier and he expected her to cower in fear; they all did upon seeing him. Word traveled fast of what he was capable of. And yet –

There was relief in her shoulders, a sigh. She almost smiled before Zola turned in her direction and she pushed it away into a tight frown. The Soldier narrowed his eyes.

“Get to work, Doctor,” he ordered, though it sounded more like a warning.

She nodded, stepping in closer to the Soldier though she was hesitant in her movements. She wore dark circles under her eyes, a redness within the whites. Her clothes were old, torn a little at the edges, and dirty with use. But still, she offered a kind smile as she approached.

“How are you feeling?”

The Soldier didn’t know how to respond to that. No one had ever bothered with his answer. He stayed silent.

“You can talk freely,” she encouraged gently as she approached his bedside. He sat on the edge of the cot, tension burning through his body as it always did when he wasn’t alone. One word out of turn resulted in punishment. He knew well enough not to tempt it.

She seemed to understand he would not fall into the trap, and she nodded in acceptance.

“I’m going to take your vitals, alright? I’ll start with your heart rate.” She held up two fingers, gesturing as she pressed them against her own neck. Seemed harmless enough, though he suspected he didn’t have much of a choice anyway. It was strange she acted as if he did.

Regardless, the Soldier nodded.

As she touched him, something seemed to break. She clenched her jaw tightly, trying to focus on the rhythm of his heartbeat, but he could hear the distress in her own. Quick, pounding, uneven, and she pulled her fingers away before he questioned the slight tremble in her touch.

He wanted to ask if she were alright because something about seeing her upset was unpleasant for him. She wanted to say something, that much he could tell, but she bit her tongue.

“You’re here for a reason, Doctor,” Zola taunted from his position in the corner of the room. The woman flinched though she kept her back to him. Her eyes flickered to the Soldier as if he were an anchor. Zola smirked. “Go on. Test our programming. Why else do you think we kept you around?”

Then, he exited the room. The guard followed behind him until the Soldier was alone with the woman.

She swallowed; eyes cast down as if she were afraid to speak. For a while, she continued to take his vitals – checking his blood pressure, his eye movement, examining the mess of scars on his shoulder as they attempted to heal. All the while, so impossibly gentle, so kind in her touch, that he started to wonder if he’d felt it before.

When she was finished, she took a step back. It was only then that the Soldier noticed the reflective marks on her cheeks. Had she been crying? Why did the thought alone make his stomach twist into knots painful enough to nauseate him?

“Bucky?”

He narrowed his eyes, confused. She reached out for his hand, though she stopped herself before she could touch him. It seemed agonizing; the restraint visible on her features.

“Bucky, please tell me there’s still a of piece of you in there,” she begged. He found himself wanting to lie, to pretend to be this man she craved, just to make her happy. He didn’t know why he cared so much, why it bothered him to see her cry. She was a stranger.

“You don’t recognize me at all, do you?” Her voice was so small, so broken. She was never afraid of him, he realized. No – it seemed she was more afraid of his answer. He did not respond. He didn’t know how.

She nodded, clenching her jaw as tears spilled from the corners of her eyes and the Soldier managed to break the heart of a woman he didn’t know. Another casualty in his wake.

“Excellent,” Zola sneered, appearing back in the doorway. The doctor took a step back and it surprised the Soldier when the space between them felt like an assault. Zola grinned as he moved closer to the woman. “Hydra thanks you for your service.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, just before she landed a closed fist against the bridge of the scientist’s nose.

The Soldier flinched, stunned by the woman’s brazen as she stared into the face of the mad scientist. The tears hadn’t yet dried and still – she was fearless. Zola laughed as the blood dripped down into his mouth. A guard wrapped a vicious hold around her wrist, beginning to drag her out of the room, but she turned back to the Soldier.

“Don’t give into them, Bucky! You have to fight this! You’re good, do you hear me? You’re not one of them!”

Her voice echoed in the room even as she was shoved through the door and down the hall. He listened for the last remaining vibrations of her voice, of her struggling, until it was silent. He wondered about this man she referred to, why she thought he was worth fighting for. He thought about whether he was the man she spoke of.

“Distractions, Soldat.” Zola tsked. “You are magnificent. You are the fist of Hydra. Do you understand?”

He nodded. It pleased the scientist.

Zola explained the mission he was about to embark on at dawn. He listened to the instructions, the details, the purpose – all the while wondering about what became of the kind doctor who called him by a name he didn’t recognize.

Then, when he was finished, the scientist left and the Soldier was alone— just as he always had been.

---

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes fluff

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onceuponastory · 3 years

Text

guilty - b.b x reader

Darling, darling, darling, let me sing to you Let me sing to you, let me sing to you Darling, darling, darling, let me shelter you Let you into all the homes that fear has made of me How the shingles fall like dust beside your company - little words: the happy fits (also you should check out the happy fits, cause their music is really good! highly recommend.)

Plot: Bucky tells his girlfriend Y/N the truth about his past...and all the bodies left in his wake. A/N: My friends requested Bucky being told that what happened to him and what he did as The Winter Soldier wasn’t his fault. They also wanted to see more emotional Bucky, like the opening scene of TFATWS episode 4, so I happily obliged! cause Bucky Barnes is not a villain and if you think he is gtfo. Also, chapter 2 of ever after is coming, it’s just these chapters are turning out to be way longer than I first thought, lmao. Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence, torture, death...basically everything Bucky did as TWS. Also a lot of self loathing. This is a very angsty fic, but there’s a happy ending!

There are a lot of things in life that Bucky Barnes hates. The rain, for one thing. And John Walker. But most of all, what Bucky hates is feeling guilty. And with a past stained with as much blood as his...he has a lot to feel guilty about. It’s not that Bucky doesn’t want to feel guilty or atone for what he did, completely the opposite, in fact. He hates being unable to sleep at night without hearing screaming or seeing the blood he spilt. In all honesty, Bucky just wants it to stop. He hates closing his eyes every night and dreads actually falling asleep because he knows that’s when the nightmares begin.

Bucky peers over from his spot on the couch to watch his girlfriend Y/N as she cleans up the things from dinner. She’s always been so sweet to him, and it breaks his heart to know that he’s not the kind of person she thinks he is. The complete opposite, actually. But most of all, Bucky hates how he knows he still hasn’t told her about his past and the type of person he used to be. He doesn’t want to tell her, not wanting to destroy her happiness. Bucky imagines how she’ll react when he tells her. Probably run screaming in the other direction, or dump him immediately. And even though it breaks his heart to imagine that...he knows it’s what he deserves. But first, he has to tell her..and he’s going to do it today...If he can work up the guts to tell her, that is.

“Y/N? Doll? Can you come here for a sec? Please?” Bucky asks, trying to make his voice more serious, but still hating how nervous he sounds. Y/N walks over to him. She raises an eyebrow, clearly confused. Bucky clears his throat and pats the seat beside him on the couch, motioning for her to sit, which she does.

“Buck? What’s going on?” She asks. Bucky tries not to wince at the fact she used his nickname. It still feels weird to him. Weird that he’s still alive, still loved by people enough to have a nickname, to have a girlfriend, and to be given a chance at redemption...even with all this blood on his hands. And when all the people he killed didn’t even have the opportunity to grow old and be loved. He ruined so many lives. Why should he be the one to find happiness? Why isn’t he the one who died? “Bucky?” Y/N cuts into his thoughts. She’s looking up at him, her eyes full of concern. Again, Bucky wonders what will happen when he tells her the truth. Will she even love him anymore? Or will she run for the hills?

“I uh...” He clears his throat. “I have something I need to tell you.” Her eyes widen slightly, and before Bucky can even think about what he’s going to say next, she asks:

“Did you cheat on me? Please tell me you didn’t.” For a moment, Bucky considers lying and telling her that he did cheat. Even though it’ll break her heart, it’s a lot better than admitting you’re responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people, regardless of whether or not he was brainwashed into doing so. That way, he can protect her from ever finding out the truth. She’d leave, and he could go back to being alone. Even though the very idea of losing Y/N and being alone forever hurts, Bucky knows that it’s the least of what he deserves. “Bucky, please. Just tell me the truth.” She pleads, and Bucky can see her eyes glistening with tears. “Whatever it is, we can talk about it and hopefully work through it.” Bucky’s not too sure about that one. He sighs. Even though the truth was a lot worse, Bucky knows Y/N deserves to hear it...even if it might destroy their relationship.

“No, it’s not like that. I didn’t cheat.” Y/N sighs, and relief floods her features.

“Good. I didn’t think you would do that to me. You’re not that kind of person.” Bucky feels his heart shatter. She doesn’t even know the kind of person he really was. The merciless killer. The Winter Soldier. Someone responsible for so much pain and suffering. Bucky takes her hands. He runs his non-metal thumb over her knuckles, trying not to stare too long at his metal arm and hand. Even though he was given a different one in Wakanda, one not tied to suffering, one without blood on it...seeing his metal arm still reminds him of the pain his previous one caused. “What do you need to tell me?”

“Um...” He sighs, trying to find the words. “Remember ages ago, when Sam said something happened to me? Something bad?” Y/N nods. “Well...he wasn’t exactly honest. I mean, yeah, something bad happened to me. But I did something bad. Something...worse.” She frowns. “Back when I was in World War Two with Steve, my unit got captured, and they experimented on me.”

“I know this. You and Steve told me.” Y/N cuts him off.

“I know...but you don’t know the full extent of it.” Bucky sighs, memories flooding his brain. He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, trying to block them out. “They injected me with super-soldier serum, which helped me to survive the train fall, as you know.” She nods, listening intently. “Well. I didn’t just sit and wait for Steve to find me or escape heroically or anything. I, um...I....” He takes a deep breath. Y/N squeezes his hand, and Bucky almost breaks down in tears right then. She’s too sweet for him. He doesn’t deserve her. “I was taken by the Soviet Wing of Hydra, and they wiped my memories, implanted these...trigger words in me so I’d do whatever they want. I became their...assassin.”

“What are you saying?” She asks.

“I’m saying...I was the Winter Soldier. The monster that killed innocent people and injured countless others. I’ve left so many bodies in my wake...and done so many bad things Y/N. And I don’t deserve any of...this.” He waves his free hand around at the apartment they’re both in...and at her. Y/N blinks back at him, looking slightly shocked at Bucky’s revelation. “And I definitely don’t deserve someone like you. Not after what I did or who I was. The person who tried to kill Steve, Sam, Fury and Nat-”

“But you didn’t, Bucky, you-” She leans in closer, reaching her hand closer to the forearm of his metal arm.

“BUT I TRIED TO!” He exclaims, cutting her off as he jerks his metal arm back. Y/N jumps back a little, a look of fear crossing her face for a moment. That makes Bucky feel even worse. Even though Ayo and Shuri helped rehabilitate him, and Ayo removed his trigger words, Bucky has spent many sleepless nights tossing and turning. He stays awake almost all night, wondering how much of The Winter Soldier remains within him and whether he’d hurt or scare anyone that way again. Seeing the look of fear on Y/N’s face tells him only one thing: he’s still the same monster he was before. And now he’s scared the one person he wanted to protect. Bucky panics, and his stomach drops. Drops into a black hole that he wishes would swallow him whole. “I’m sorry, I-I I didn’t mean to-” He stammers, tripping over his words. Tears threaten to spill over, and he gets up from the couch quickly. “I’m sorry....I-I should just go. Maybe just...don’t contact me. I don’t want to hurt you o-or...” Without another word, Bucky walks towards the door.

“Bucky! Bucky, wait!” He hears Y/N following him, and he tries to speed up to avoid her. “Wait, please! Please...don’t leave.” Bucky opens the front door to her apartment, and she runs in front of him, shielding the door with her body and placing her arms out so he can’t get by her. Bucky sighs. In the past, with his true strength, he could easily move her out of the way. But of course, there’s no way he would hurt her...at least, any more than he probably already has.

“Y/N. Let me get past, please.” He mumbles, and she shakes her head. “Doll....”

“No. I’m not moving.”

“Look, it’s better for both of us if I just go. I’m a monster. I always have been and always will be. That serum that turned me into this monster is still in my veins. Who’s to know when it will strike again, even stronger, or if I hurt you? I can’t do that. I have to go.” He argues back, his voice quieter and shaky.

“No. You don’t. I’m not going to let you.”

“Y/N.” He sighs again, exasperated. “I don’t know why you’re fighting this so much. I mean...it’s nice, but trust me, I don’t deserve it. Now...” He leans in and presses a delicate kiss to her forehead. But despite how delicately he kisses her, there’s still pain behind that kiss. The pain of leaving Y/N, the only woman he’s ever loved, forever. Bucky almost scoffs at that. Even when he’s trying to be tender and loving...all he does is cause pain. But after everything he’s done, Bucky knows that pain is what he deserves. And Y/N deserves someone better than him. Even though saying that still breaks his heart, he knows it’s true. “You need to let me go. Please. Just let me go.” He whispers, tears falling slowly down his cheeks. Y/N shakes her head again.

“No. Stop asking me to, because I won’t.”

“Why not? You know-”

“Because!” She shouts, snapping her head up to him, tears filling her eyes too. “...Because I’m in love with you, Bucky, and hearing you talk about yourself like that, and saying you don’t deserve to be loved...it breaks my heart.” Bucky blinks at her, confused.

“But-but I did so many bad things!”

“When you were brainwashed!” She snaps back. “I know you killed people. But it wasn’t your choice. Was it?” She asks. Bucky shakes his head. Of course, it wasn’t his choice...but he still did it. And he still has to live with it. “See? It wasn’t you, Bucky. They turned you into that person. It wasn’t your conscious choice.”

“But I-” Bucky tries to argue back, but Y/N interrupts him again

“Listen. The way I see it, you were kidnapped whilst you were trying to save the world. And when that happened, they tortured you and forced the serum on you whilst Steve chose to get it, right?” Bucky nods. “And then, they kidnapped you again, wiped your memories and forced you to kill all those people.”

“Well, yes, but I-”

“Bucky. It wasn’t you. It wasn’t your choice. It's not your fault. I know you didn’t want to do those horrible things. And you’re atoning for them, aren’t you?” Bucky frowns.

“How...how do you know that?”

“I found your notebook. Sam told me it used to be Steve’s. I uh...I had a look inside and saw a list of names. Are those the people you wronged?” Bucky nods, feeling tears growing in his eyes again.

“My uh...my therapist suggested it would be useful. It’s part of my pardon, I think. But I wanted to anyway.”

Y/N’s eyes soften. “See Bucky? The fact you’re atoning and that you actually want to, means so much about you. You’re trying to do the right thing.” She steps forward and gently takes his hands in hers. “I’ll be with you every step of the way. Because I know that’s not you. It wasn’t you then, and it’s not now. You’re the kind of guy who brings me ice cream when I’m upset, who laughs at pictures and videos of cats, and sings along to Disney films with me. You’re not a killer. You are not The Winter Soldier. Your name is James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes, and it’s not your fault.” Bucky is silent for a while, as he can’t even think of something to say. He’s simply overwhelmed with emotion and the feeling of having someone like Y/N loving and supporting him. So overwhelmed, in fact, that he starts crying. Actually, he starts sobbing as the years of pent up emotion spill over. Y/N wraps her arms around him and pulls him closer. Bucky doesn’t even try to stop her, and just wraps his arms around her in return. He feels like his legs are about to give way at any moment and that he’s definitely covering her outfit in snot and tears, but she doesn’t seem to care. All she does is repeat: “You are not The Winter Soldier anymore. Your name is James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes, and it’s not your fault.” She continues this phrase, trying to drill into Bucky that it’s not his fault. After a while, Bucky feels his legs give out, and the pair crash to the floor, but Y/N doesn’t let go. She squeezes him even tighter as Bucky’s body shakes as he cries, so tightly it’s as if she’s trying to transfer all her love and warmth into him. “I love you. So much.” She whispers, softly kissing him on the lips.

“I love you too.” Bucky whispers. Y/N pulls away and looks over at him, her eyes full of love and support.

“I’m here for you. I always will be. You deserve love. It’s not your fault Bucky. It never was.” She whispers. And for the first time in forever...Bucky starts to believe that. Of course, he knows he still has a lot of healing and therapy to go through. But, he knows that as long as he has Y/N there to support him, he’ll be okay.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky oneshot #bucky one shot

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luna-rainbow · 3 years

Text

meta: amputation

I'm going to do a short series of meta on Bucky's arm for anyone who wants to use it as reference.

Warning: graphic description of injury ahead. My tolerance of gruesome is a bit off-kilter so sometimes I can't tell if it's going to squick people out or not.

I've talked about this topic before, but I'll expand on it a little bit.

The super soldier serum improves healing, and the prime example is Steve gets shot through the back at the end of CATWS. We see blood at the front, meaning it's definitely caused (at least) internal haemorrhage, if not also bowel perforation and organ (liver, kidney, spleen, take your pick) injury. He then falls into the river, where it's undoubtedly infested with a whole ecosystem of nasty bacteria and parasites, but comes out the other end his usual sprightly self.

This potentially fatal injury, along with potentially disabling injuries of getting stabbed in the arm and shot in the leg, all healed without any permanent damage.

So how does this relate to Bucky's amputation? Well, it means either the injury to his arm was too catastrophic or he was not given the chance to recover.

As you can see here, when he's captured by Hydra, he's already missing the arm, i.e. the arm was amputated in the field.

Why is this important? It rules out things like frostbite or hypoperfusion (reduced blood supply) injury, where the limb becomes unsalvageable but you've got time to move them to a safe place before doing surgery.

This means even for Bucky's captors, his amputation was either unintentional or emergency. So let's think about some scenarios.

1) Bucky’s arm was amputated during the initial fall.

I think this might be the assumption for most people but a fall is actually an unusual (but not impossible!) mechanism for an "at the scene" amputation. If you look at the picture of when Hydra first operates on him, he still has a stump of his arm - that means it's actually torn through the bone and not through the shoulder joint where it's technically weaker.

Fall injuries tend to be impact injuries, so you get fractures/damage where body hits the ground. To result in an amputation through bone, it needs a shearing force and not just direct impact. The main ways I can think of for this to happen is:

a) A very nasty mangled open fracture (bone exposed) of the arm e.g. he had landed on very uneven ground (e.g. a rocky outcrop) and took the brunt of the fall on his upper arm (also a fairly unusual first point of contact with ground), with significant soft tissue damage e.g. rolling down the rough terrain. In this case, it is very likely for him to have other severe injuries including chest, pelvis, other limbs or head injury.

b) A blast injury e.g. he landed with/close to a weapon that then misfired.

c) A shear injury where his arm got caught between two heavy objects and sawn off, e.g. under a moving vehicle or in machinery.

Just keep in mind people exsanguinate rapidly so he would need to be found by Hydra very quickly after the fall/amputation.

2) Bucky’s arm gets amputated following the fall by Hydra in the field.

This can be necessary first aid when the limb is threatened and the need to get the person to safety outweighs the harm of losing a limb.

Possible scenarios for this include: a) similar to above, catastrophic fractures and soft tissue injury (*graphic warning* such as complete degloving injuries i.e. skin and muscles shredded off). Immediate amputation isn't usually required though, so there would need to be other factors e.g. he's too resistive/in too much pain, Hydra didn't want to leave a blood trail (although you can tourniquet the arm), arm was almost detached anyway etc b) entrapment/crush injuries. His arm gets trapped under something heavy like fallen rocks or machinery. There are two possible ways for this scenario to go: (i) They determine it is too hard to lift the obstacle off and opt to amputate his arm to free him. Entrapment doesn’t necessarily make someone unconscious or delirious, so I’ll let your imagination do with that information what it will. (ii) They free him, but he deteriorates due to the development of crush syndrome. They decide to amputate because it would take too long to get back to base (I'm not saying this is the correct medical decision...)

3. Bucky loses his arm resisting capture by Hydra.

He might have survived the fall with relatively minor injuries, but ran into Hydra when he’s trying to find his way through the snow. I imagine if he was conscious enough to resist, he would have put up a good fight. At some point, Hydra had to gravely injure him in order to subdue him. If this is the case then it makes Tony blasting his arm off in CACW (at the same level) all that much more unpleasant.

One of Bucky's very first flashbacks in CATWS was Zola standing in a forest, saying, "Sergeant Barnes." I forced myself to go back and rewatch the events surrounding Bucky's fall. Zola could see Bucky and Steve on the train, so he would have recognised Bucky. This scene in the forest suggests Zola was part of the search party because Bucky's later flashbacks of Zola was of him in a lab. It would make sense for Zola to try and look for his precious test subject soon after seeing Bucky fall off.

The horrifying implication is that Zola already had Bucky imprisoned when he himself got captured by Allied forces. At the same time that Peggy is telling Steve to "respect the dignity" of Bucky's choice, Colonel Phillips is recruiting Zola. These two become the co-founders of SHIELD, enabling Zola to continue imprisoning and experimenting on his unwilling subject.

This is also the scene where Steve tells Peggy he is not going to rest until all of Hydra is dead or captured...

And you're saying Steve went back to that and just twiddled his thumbs for 70 years while Peggy bred the largest nest of Hydra under their nose...

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #medical meta #catws #meta #tw: injury #tw: amputation #anti steggy #anti endgame #catfa #stucky meta

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oreosmilkshakes · 3 years

Text

Mine; Part 2

Summary: A continuation of the first one. Pairing: The Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 1.9K Warnings: Mention of torture A/N: Well, as requested, here is part 2! Enjoy and comment on how it is! Edited and checked by @thebestdecoder ED/N: Apologies for any mistakes made in editing, RedBull doesn’t work on me anymore. Taglist: @tastingcevans @missingartist96 @generationallyfluid @paniniirae @felicityofbakerstreet @roguesthetic @igothroughphasesalot

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When the team came to be, Strike Team, led by Rumlow, had them surrounded with guns pointing at them. In no time, they cuffed Steve, Sam, and Natasha and threw them in the back of an armored truck.

“It was him,” Steve began, eyes on the cuffs. He felt a massive sense of guilt especially since finding out Bucky was alive and that he didn’t bother to find him after his fall. “He looked right at me like he didn’t even know me. Instead, he looked right at Y/N,” Steve was still in disbelief that Y/N’s soulmate was Bucky. Sam looked up at Steve. “How is that even possible? It was like 70 years ago? What’s worse is that that killing machine is Y/N’s soulmate,” Steve squeezed his eyes shut, choosing to avoid answering the second question. “Zola. Bucky’s whole unit was captured in ‘43. Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him and--,” Natasha shook her head slightly, weak from her untreated wound. “None of that’s your fault, Steve,”

Steve sighed lowly. “Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky,” Natasha leaned back. “None of it is your fault, Steve. Even losing Y/N. I just hoped she did manage to escape from..from Bucky,” She was weakening and Sam took notice fast. He turned to the two soldiers. “We need to get a doctor here. If we don’t put pressure on that wound, she’s gonna bleed out here in the truck,” The first soldier ignited his stun rod, Sam leaned back a little. What he didn’t expect was for said soldier to attack the second, knocking him out effectively. Maria sighed, removing the helmet. “Ah, that thing was squeezing my brain,” The team was surprised to find an ally among the Strike Team. Time to make their big escape.

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Slowly, Y/N came to be. However, it only came in short bursts. The first time she came to be shortly, bright light penetrated her eyes. She couldn’t see well, only blur filled her vision and in no time, she passed out again. The second time Y/N came to be, it was dark and the air smells stale. She tried to move but she couldn’t. She gave up and drifted back into the darkness. The third time Y/N came to be, she was fully conscious now. Her eyes fluttered open, accustoming her eyes to the dimly lit room. It seems like she was held hostage in an abandoned building but Y/N didn’t know for sure. The only giveaways were the newspaper-covered windows and the fact that the room she was in looked like a bedroom. Her eyes focused on the silhouette and almost instantly, fear sprouted in her chest. Y/N tugged hard on the binds, panting softly as she tried to get her hands and feet out of the bonds.

(gif credited to the owner)

The Soldier turned to Y/N, his movements silent and intimidating as he moved closer to the woman. His metal hand reached out to touch Y/N’s cheek. He could not bring his soulmate back to HYDRA or else they would kill her. He knows HYDRA was ruthless in this sort of thing. So, to protect his soulmate, he took her to a safe place.

Y/N whimpered, scooting backwards until her back hit the wall. She shuddered when she felt the cool metal touch her cheek.

“Stop..get away from me,” Y/N begged quietly. All her training as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was failing, the terror growing in her was overwhelming. The Soldier could easily kill her with a flick of his wrist if she wasn’t his soulmate, of course.

“When I first saw colours, I never imagined my soulmate to look as gorgeous as you,” The Soldier’s voice was low, his metal thumb stroked her delicate cheekbone.

“Don’t touch me,” Y/N attempted to sound strong, moving her face away from The Soldier’s touch. A low growl escaped the assassin’s lips, a metal hand gripped Y/N’s face lightly. “You are mine, doll. You belong to me because you are my soulmate. Even if you don’t like it, I don’t care. You will learn to love me,” The Soldier leaned in, the tip of his nose brushed against Y/N’s. The agent gulped, avoiding eye contact with the monster.

A soft beeping caught Y/N’s attention. It came from The Soldier. The assassin growled, annoyed by the sudden interruption but he had work to do. Without saying another word, The Soldier left, leaving Y/N all alone in the abandoned building.

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Turns out, Fury was alive and on a long journey to a full recovery. It was apparently better for S.H.I.E.L.D. to believe that he was dead so HYDRA could work at a full scale and risk exposure.

Natasha was patched up and the team was gathered around a table for a briefing. Fury picked up a photo of Alexander Pierce, looking at it with his one eye. “This man declined the Nobel Peace Prize. He said peace wasn’t an achievement, it was a responsibility,” Fury threw the photo on the table, leaning forward. “See, it’s stuff like this that gives me trust issues,” Natasha sighed softly. “We have to stop the launch and find Y/N,”

Fury sighed. “I don’t think the Council’s accepting my calls anymore and as for Y/N, we will find her. It’s only a matter of time until we do so,” The director opened a case, revealing three chips.

“What’s that?” Sam looked down at it. “Once the helicarriers reach 3,000 feet, they’ll triangulate with Insight satellites, becoming fully weaponized,” Maria turned the laptop around. “We need to breach those carriers and replace their targeting blades with our own,” Fury added.

“One or two won’t cut it. We need to link all three carriers for this work because if even one of those ships remain operational, a whole lot of people are gonna die,” Maria sighed softly.

“We have to assume everyone aboard those carriers is HYDRA. We have to get past them, insert these server blades. And maybe, just maybe we can salvage what’s left-,” “We’re not salvaging anything,” Steve cut off.

“We’re not just taking down the carriers, Nick. We’re taking down S.H.I.E.L.D. ,” “S.H.I.E.L.D. had nothing to do with this,” Fury fought.

“You gave me this mission. This is how it ends. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s been compromised. You said so yourself. HYDRA grew right under your nose and nobody noticed. And we still have no way of knowing how to locate Y/N. For all we know, she’s either dead or taken by Bucky,” Steve heaved out a heavy sigh of anger. “Why do you think we’re meeting in this cave? I noticed,”

“How many paid the price before you did?” Steve growled lowly.

Fury looked down and sighed. “Look, I didn’t know about Barnes,” “Even if you had, would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that too? S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA, it all goes,” Fury sighed, deciding it was best to give in. He leaned back on his seat, eye on Steve. “Well, it looks like you’re giving the orders now, Captain. As for Y/N, Hill and I will work on that. We still have some tricks up our sleeves,” Fury nodded to Hill.

Steve looked at Sam and Natasha, nodding. “Then we’ll suit up,”

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The Soldier stood on the edge of the building, mind fuzzy and hand twitching. HYDRA electrocuted him, giving him another mind wipe. But this time, it wasn’t easy for a clean wipe. The Soldier had begun his resistance a long time ago. His cerulean eyes took in the colored view of the city. That was something those scientists could never wipe or know and that is The Soldier’s discovery of his soulmate.

The Soldier disappeared from the roof, making his way into the abandoned building. Y/N gulped, eyes widening as she heard heavy footsteps getting closer and closer. She worked her hands quickly, dragging a sharp edge of a broken wood against the rope. She silently cheered when the rope snapped free. The footsteps were close now and Y/N kept her hands to her back.

The Soldier stepped into the room, towering over her seated form. Y/N gripped onto her little weapon, glaring up at The Soldier. He approached her, eyes dark and expression was even darker. “What do you wa--,” Y/N was cut off with a metal arm gripping her arm. The Soldier pulled the agent to her feet, pinning her against the wall. His dark eyes examined Y/N’s features. He needed comfort after what HYDRA did to him again. The torture never stops. It never does. If The Soldier showed signs of disobedience, he’ll get shocked. Any signs The Soldier showed to HYDRA that was related to him being disobedient would get him punished.

The Soldier sought comfort in his soulmate, his nose brushed against the exposed skin on Y/N’s neck. ‘No, this wasn’t supposed to happen!’ Y/N mentally scolded herself. The Soldier felt warm though. But nothing about him smelled good. The Soldier smelled like smoke and gunpowder. Nevertheless, Y/N leaned into The Soldier’s shoulder. ‘What are you doing? You’re free, he’s vulnerable, attack him and run!’ Y/N’s mind reminded her. Shit, it was right. “I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered. She gathered all her strength and shoved The Soldier off her, the assassin grunted in shock as Y/N made a run for it. “Блядь! (Fuck!),” The Soldier growled, immediately taking off to chase the woman. Y/N looked over her shoulder, eyes widening as the gap between them was closing and it was closing really fast. Y/N turned a corner, almost slipping. She had to find a way out fast. The Soldier was fast on her tail.

Y/N has never felt so much fear in her life. Not even when the Earth was invaded by the Chitauris. She dug into her sleeve, slipping out a small metal ball, and threw it at The Soldier. A bright flash and a deep groan indicated that the assassin was disabled. For now. The route down to the first floor was blocked and it seems like the only way is up. So up did Y/N went. “Soulmate!” The Winter Soldier roared in anger, his thunderous voice echoed throughout the stairwell.

Y/N’s hairs stood on end, looking down to see that The Soldier was climbing up the stairs twice as fast as her. “No, no!”Y/N cried out, trying to reach the upper levels of the building as fast as she could because The Winter Soldier was just a level below her. The frantic woman burst through the roof door, looking over her shoulder. However, when she looked to the front, it was too late. Y/N skidded to a halt, missing the edge of the roof and slipped. She screamed in fear, her hand grabbing the ledge.

(gif credited to the owner. Just The Soldier running)

The building was old, almost crumbling down. The edge of concrete Y/N held broke under her weight, the woman screamed in terror, flailing her arms to try and reach something to save her from the freefall.

Was this the end for Y/N?

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #the winter solider x reader #the winter solider fanfiction #the winter soldier #bucky x you #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barns imagine #bucky barns x you #bucky barns fanfiction

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bestofbucky · 3 years

Text

The Signal (1/2)

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Angst, death, blood, canon level violence, swearing.

Summary: You go on a mission with Bucky.

A/N: Part 2 will hopefully be up sometime soon.

“You ready doll?” Bucky asked as you were nearing your drop off point.

You nod back, not trusting your voice. No matter how many times you have had to parachute from a quinjet it will never get easier. Of course, Bucky can tell how nervous you are by the way you avoid eye contact and start tugging at the straps of your harness. He pulls your hands away replacing them with his own as he safety checks your parachute.

You know that you have done it all correctly but having him double check it is the reassurance you need. You watch him, his slightly furrowed brow and tongue poking out giving away how concentrated he is.

He finishes his final check and looks up at you, “What are you smiling about?” He can’t stop his own grin from spreading across his face. Bucky didn’t just smile with his mouth, he smiled through the crinkles in the outer corners of his eyes, he smiled through the scrunch of his nose and he smiled through the relaxation of his whole body.

“You.” The contentment you feel, that comes from simply being near Bucky, is obvious in your body language and voice. His eyes glimmer as he leans forward pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

Bucky had joined the team about two years ago. For one of his first missions you were paired up, you worked so seamlessly together that it would be silly not to put you with each other for more missions. This resulted in the two of you becoming close friends, he trusted and confided in you and you felt the same.

It would be normal for the two of you to be holed up together after a tough mission, looking after the other but not wanting any social interaction with anyone else. You were both extremely similar like that, tending to fall inwards but you both became experts at drawing the other one out.

It was a natural transition from friendship to romantic relationship. You had just come back from mission and you were cuddled up in Bucky’s bed watching a film. Bucky had turned to you out of the blue and asked if you wanted to go on a date with him to which you immediately agreed. The feelings were already there from the bond you had formed, it was just the physical side that was needed.

This wasn’t a difficult thing to develop for either of you. Bucky had never met someone who completely overwhelmed his thoughts and feelings as much as you did. You were always on his mind whether it was a comment Sam made that he knew you would be on the floor laughing at or a mental picture of you sleeping, the morning light making your skin glow softly. He thought you always looked like an angel but especially in those moments.

You had never met anyone who's laughter was so infectious, it had become addicting to be the one to pull those noises from him, to lose yourself in his lopsided grins and crinkled eyes. He drew you in like a butterfly to nectar. You couldn’t get enough of him. His voice, his hands, his kisses.

This mission, on paper, was a simple one. Apart from jumping out of a quinjet and landing onto a moving train, all you and Bucky had to do was stop an illegal trade. That’s it. The mission file didn’t cover who the parties involved in the deal were. From your experience, being trained at the Academy and moving up the ranks of SHIELD before finally becoming an Avenger, you know that illegal trades are normally between civilians who are in over their heads in some kind of criminal group. However, not long into the mission you realised it wasn’t simple at all.

It turns out that one of the ‘unknown parties’ is Hydra, never a good sign. The weapons they are dealing are enhanced with alien technology and they somehow knew that you and Bucky were coming. The only reason the mission didn’t get pulled is because the rest of the team was on standby, ready to step in at any moment.

In fact, the job got so complicated, so quickly, that you and Bucky found yourselves at the back of the train, severely outnumbered and being pushed closer and closer to the edge of the train where the back wall had been blown to pieces by the very weapons involved in the trade.

It was loud, the sounds of fighting were drowned out by the noises of the wheels on the tracks. The train was moving fast and the wind was whirling around the carriage meaning just one misstep could send you flying off the train and landing on the tracks below.

There was a moment when you thought you were a goner, but Bucky managed to haul you back into the carriage, putting himself between you and the edge of the train. A move that warmed your heart, knowing his history with trains was not a good one.

“I fucking hate trains.” You remember him saying when you had first got the mission brief. “Nothing good ever happens on trains.” You had laughed back then, but there was nothing funny about the situation you were in now.

The next ten seconds seemed to happen so quickly. One of the attackers yelled something in what you assumed to be German, he was holding the weapon you recognised to be the same as the one that blew out the back wall of the carriage. Next thing you knew Bucky had wrapped his arm around you and was launching you both off the train.

Time slowed and you seemed to float mid-air as you watched the carriage go up in flames, shrapnel flying everywhere, the heat burning your eyes and forcing them closed. Then came the impact of the fall, quite luckily Bucky had managed to aim for the snow on the sides of the train tracks and not in the train tracks themselves.

Bucky immediately sits up and sends the signal for extraction, he then starts checking himself for injuries. You are lying on your side facing him, half your body concealed by the snow, the other half just poking out. His eyes travel to you as he looks over your body.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” The concern was clear in his voice.

“No, I think I’m ok.” You try to move yourself but wince slightly. “I think I landed funny though because my side hurts.” You manoeuvre yourself onto your back. As soon as you get your right side out of the snow a gasp causes you to snap your head towards Bucky who is just staring in shock at your stomach.

His eyes are wide, eyebrows slanted upwards and mouth open slightly. You know whatever it is can’t be good. Gathering up the courage to look down at your stomach, you lift up onto your forearms. Finally looking down, the sight causes bile to rise and you have to stop yourself from gagging. A piece of shrapnel about the size of an A5 piece of paper is sticking out of your side. There is so much blood around it that it is hard to tell what it is and how deep it has gone.

It’s as if looking at it made it real because the pain suddenly hits you. Out of instinct your hand flies towards the wound to try and hold it or soothe it but Bucky quickly catches your hand stopping you. It’s like a flip switched in his mind. He suddenly starts stripping off his clothing. He takes his shirt and undershirt off before putting the rest of his gear back on. He moves behind you, placing his legs either side of you and lifting your upper body carefully, so you are now leaning on him. He manages to wrap your wound, careful to go around the shrapnel to try to stop the bleeding, but not push it in anymore. He continues to do the same with as much of his clothing as he can afford to lose in the snow. He takes your left hand and puts it over the clothing, then places his hand on top, telling you to press down as hard as you can, as he does the same.

You start to feel lightheaded, the pain in your side only getting stronger.

“Stay with me doll, backup is on its way. They’ll find us.” Bucky is practically begging and you try your hardest to keep your eyes open.

“You were right.” You say after a while and Bucky gives you a puzzled look. “Nothing good ever happens on trains.” You chuckle at your own joke but quickly stop when it causes shooting pains to fly through your body.

Bucky lets out a sharp breath from his nose. “When you get through this you will be able to join my ‘I survived a fall from a train’ club.” He jokes smiling down at you.

“I can’t imagine there are very many members of that club.” You smile back at him and he laughs, you can tell he is trying to distract you but you let him anyway.

“No, at the moment it’s just me. The events the club holds are very fun though!” His eyes light up as he continues to look down at you. “We’ve had freight night, that was watching scary movies that have a train in at some point. There’s train reaction, which is like the telephone game, that one was quite difficult with one person.” He laughs at himself which makes you giggle, trying not to contract your stomach. It doesn’t work and the shooting pains are back. The smile is still clear on your face and Bucky reaches his free hand up to push a bit of hair behind your ear.

“Bucky.” You whisper to get his attention, the words you want to speak are clear in the look of longing in your eyes.

“No, baby please I don’t want to hear you say whatever you are going to say. You fight through this and you can tell me whatever it is when you’re better.” A frown is clear on his face.

“But I-“

“Please doll. You want to tell me whatever it is so badly, then use it as a reason to fight this. To come out the other side.” You scan his face and from the crease lines in his brow and the desperation in his eyes you can tell he already knows what you want to say.

You both fall into a comfortable silence. You realise being in Bucky’s arms is probably your favourite place to be. Feeling his chest steadily rise and fall, your head gently moving with it. You feel so protected, cherished, peaceful.

That is until Bucky looks down at your stomach to see that all the clothing he tried to use to wrap the wound has been completely soaked in your blood, he visibly winces. You move your head slightly to try and get a look but Bucky uses his free hand to tilt your chin up so you are looking at him instead. He holds the eye contact as he takes his jacket off and drapes it over you, covering your wound from your sight and warming you up as much as he can.

As secretively as he could, he sent the signal out to the team. The signal only used in extreme emergencies. Three long holds. The signal to say an agent doesn’t have long left to live.

The sharp sting of the cold has faded into exhaustion as the pain retreats from your body leaving behind a numbness you have never experienced before.

“I always thought I’d be alone.” You say pensively, “I never thought about death too much. I just always assumed I’d be alone when it happened.” You were slurring your words. If you were more aware of your surroundings you would have felt Bucky tense up at your words. Looking up into his blue eyes you wondered if death would be as serene as them.

“You’re not alone. I’m here.” Bucky’s once motivational words, convincing you to hold on, shift to words intended to comfort you, to draw out the fear of your final moments and replace them with solace. You had closed your eyes, his reassuring whispers gradually fading away as he cradled you close to his chest. You wanted to be able to hear his heartbeat but all you could hear was the erratic beating of your own heart pounding in your head.

In the far distance you felt commotion around you so you used what was left of your energy to open your eyes one final time. The sight you were greeted with sent a wave of emotion through you. Your team members, your friends, they were all gathered around you, kneeling or standing in the snow.

“My family is here.” You smile to yourself as you let the tiredness overtake you. The last thing you feel is an ice cold tear rolling down your cheek. An overwhelming sense of calm consumes your body and your worries and fears simply fade to nothingness.

Bucky knew even before the Avengers turned up that your chances of surviving this were slim. You were bleeding out fast and it was showing no sign of slowing. It killed Bucky to know that all he could do was make you as comfortable and reassure you as much as possible in your final moments of life.

When the team got Bucky’s first signal, the plan was for just Tony to go down and retrieve you both. Then the second signal came in. They all silently agreed they would land the quinjet and all go together, maybe to say goodbye if they had enough time. If not, just to be with you when you take your last breath. They all knew that there was nothing any of them could do.

What none of them could have predicted was Helen Cho and a SHIELD team transporting the cradle from one base to another. The flight path directly over your current location. Their quinjet picked up Bucky’s radio signal and they made the choice to land to see if they could help.

Upon arrival Helen rushed straight to you, checking for signs of life, she must have felt something because she ordered for you to be put in the cradle as quickly as possible.

Bucky was frozen, no he wasn’t cold, he was a super soldier, the cold barely affected him. He was simply in a state of daze, unable to move himself to get you into the cradle. Steve could see this and swiftly took you into his arms carrying you onto the other quinjet and placing you down in the cradle. As soon as you were secure Helen was directing a team of people to all do different things. Steve stepped out of the jet, not wanting to get in the way.

No one spoke, they all had their hopes that you would be ok, but no one was particularly optimistic.

“We’ll take her to my lab, she’s not in a good condition and this jet can only sustain the cradle for so long, we can take one or two of you in this jet with us, but feel free to follow in yours.” Helen had stepped out and as soon as she finished her sentence it was like a flip switched inside everyone.

The team made their way back onto the quinjet but Bucky hadn’t moved, he was bathed in your blood, a ring of red surrounding him a stark contrast to the blinding white of the snow. Bucky gratefully accepted Steve’s hand helping him onto his shaky legs. He looked down at where he had just been. The red crater left in the snow told the story of what had happened but Bucky still couldn’t quite believe it.

Steve’s hand on Bucky’s shoulder guided him to the quinjet you were in. He sat there staring ahead unable to do anything more, Steve stayed close by his side but knew not to push anything.

“She wanted to tell me something.” Bucky suddenly breaks the silence but his gaze stays fixed ahead. “She wanted to tell me something and I couldn’t let her finish because I wanted to stay strong for her.” Steve stays silent knowing he wasn’t finished. “I didn’t let her say anything because I knew I would have broken down in front of her.” He continues as tears start to fall from his eyes. He feels everything, guilt, regret, pain, loss, hope but at the same time feels nothing at all. His body numb and still in shock.

“What if it was her dying wish to say whatever it was and I took that away from her.” A crack in Bucky’s voice causes Steve’s heart to contract. He pulls his friend into a hug, Bucky gladly accepting the comfort.

“We both know what she was going to say Buck,” Steve takes a deep breath to try to stop himself from crying, “and we know how she is. If she thought for one second you didn’t know what she was going to say, then she wouldn’t have let you stop her from saying it.”

Of course Bucky knew what you were going to say because he felt it too. He knew, because to kill you both only one of you actually had to die.

Taglist: @vampirewithbedsidemanners @townwitchbitch @velvetcardiganbucky

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iam93percentstardust · 3 years

Note

Hey, it’s my birthday this month too and I will try my luck here 💕 sending you love, luck and flowers by the way 💐🍀❤️

I‘m totally into heartbeats, so my prompt is just „Heartbeat“ for Stony - everything else is up to you ❤️ thank you ❤️

Happy birthday, nonnie! (I know I’m a little late, real life got in the way of filling this prompt during February) I hope you like your story!!

As always, this fic is also on ao3

It takes Steve almost three hours after receiving the serum to realize that the steady thumping sounds he’s hearing are the heartbeats of the people close to him.

He thinks he can be forgiven for taking a while to figure it out. He can hear so much more now than he ever could before—even before his hearing was shot all to hell after his scarlet fever—so his initial thought, after he notices them, is that the thumping sounds are something that everyone can hear, like rushing water or something else. But he decides pretty quickly that that doesn’t make any sense. Even if it weren’t for the fact that no one else seems to hear them, the fact that the thumping sounds fade in and out as people move closer and farther away from him is a pretty clear indicator that it’s not something normal.

It’s not until one of the thumping sounds speeds up when the nurse asks him to take his shirt off so she can draw his blood that he realizes he’s hearing her heartbeat.

It’s incredible. It’s terrifying. It’s—Steve doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about it. He wants to feel excited about it, knows that he probably should be thrilled about this shining example of how perfectly the serum worked. But the more he thinks about it, the more his own heart sinks. He hears heartbeats. There’s not a secret in the world that’s closed to him now.

“Steve?” Peggy asks him, voice high with concern. Clearly not the first time she’s tried to get his attention.

He forces himself to meet her eyes. Her heart skips a beat—Steve’s enhanced hearing picks up on it, muffled under clothes and skin and bone as it may be. He wonders if it would have skipped that beat if he’d still looked like himself. He smiles tightly at her.

“I’m fine.”

Bruce’s heart beats twice as fast as the average human’s. Steve wonders if that’s because of the Hulk, if keeping the Hulk contained requires so much energy that Bruce’s heart beats so much faster. He supports this hypothesis (wouldn’t Tony be so proud of him if he heard this?) with the fact that the Hulk’s heartbeat is the same rate as anyone else’s and the fact that Bruce always has snacks squirreled away on his person.

Natasha’s is always steady. Always. The only time Steve has ever heard her heartbeat unsteady was in the middle of a battle with Doombots when he’s fighting back-to-back with her. Clint had fallen off his perch and Tony had been just a half-second later than usual in catching him. He’d still caught him but in that moment, when it had looked like Clint would hit the ground hard, Natasha’s heart had skipped several beats.

Clint has an arrhythmia. It takes Steve a while to figure out. He hears the missed beats, but he originally thinks it’s because of an external stimulus—Natasha’s bared back in the decontamination showers, Tony gifting him a whole new quiver, an exciting race in Mario Kart—only there’s too much of a pattern to the missed beats and Clint never looks worried when it happens, so Steve asks JARVIS about it. He spends a week learning everything he can about arrhythmias so he knows what to do if something happens during a battle.

Thor’s heartbeat throws him off for a while until he realizes it’s not a heartbeat so much as it is heartbeats. Thor laughs jovially when he asks about it and informs him that Asgardians actually have three hearts.

He never hears Tony’s.

He learns how to filter out the heartbeats. How can he not? Even just a single heartbeat is enough to drive someone mad, but to have to listen to anyone’s who’s standing within a few feet of him? He has to learn to filter the heartbeats or else he’ll lose his sanity.

The USO girls are the best way to do this, though he’ll never admit that to them. He knows they already find him… off, knows that it terrifies them how easily he can lift that motorcycle with them on it and how precisely he has to aim his fake punches so that he doesn’t risk launching Johnny halfway across the audience when he punches Hitler. If they found out he could hear their heartbeats, well, he’d be lucky if half of them don’t quit on the spot.

But the girls, they just—they feel so much. Their hearts flutter when the soldiers smile at them. They beat extra fast when they dance. They slow down when they sleep on the long train rides from city to city. It’s the perfect way to figure out how to drown them out.

In the end, Steve figures that the best way to filter through them is to treat them the same way he would any other background noise. City noises haven’t bothered him in ages because he’s so used to them. He learned to get used to sleeping on trains. He can learn to work around the heartbeats too.

Steve knows Tony has a heart. He has to. He couldn’t just throw it out altogether in favor of solely using the arc reactor (though sometimes he thinks that Tony would if he could). He’s seen the cute little reminder Pepper once gave Tony sitting down there in the workshop in its place of pride next to DUM-E’s charging station.

Proof Tony Stark has a heart.

Tony has a heart. It’s big and it’s beautiful and it overflows in ways that Steve could never have dreamed of when he’d been growing up, no matter how much he’d wanted to help. He thinks of the articles Fury had given him in Tony’s file after he first woke up: Tony Stark Wants to Change the World. He thinks a better headline might have been: Tony Stark Is Changing the World.

They’re friends now, friends who go to the movies and ballgames midnight snacks with each other. Friends who always team up together on game night, a united front against the Super Spies and Thor and Bruce. Friends who hug and sometimes fall asleep cuddled up together on the couch, though Tony is always quick to offer him a smile in the morning and say, “No hard feelings?”

And Steve wants more, desperately, achingly.

But he gets to have this. He gets to have Tony’s forgiveness for his harsh words on the helicarrier and his obedience during their missions and his loyalty when it comes to everything else. And Steve—he’s greedy. A lifetime of growing up with nothing has made him want. But this is something that he knows better about.

He can’t force Tony’s heart to flutter when he looks at Steve. He can’t force it to quicken when they stand too close together. He can’t force Tony to love him.

And yet…

He can’t force himself to stop listening either.

The first time he thinks that this curse might actually be a gift is when he discovers Bucky is still alive. He’s creeping through the empty base, nearly everyone already evacuated, when he turns the corner and sees the scientist. Steve has never met the man before, never even seen him before, but he knows that this must be one of Hydra’s scientists.

He doesn’t have the right build for a soldier. Steve would know.

The scientist’s heartbeat trips as he stares at Steve for only a moment before he hurries away in the opposite direction. Steve almost gives chase after him—if anyone can tell him where Bucky is, it would be him. But even as his strides lengthen into a run, he thinks about how the scientist’s gaze had darted back into the room he’d just left. Isn’t it strange, he muses, that the scientist was still here when everyone else had fled?

That’s when he hears it: the stuttered, fragile heartbeat, nearly eclipsed by a voice Steve knows as well as his own brokenly reciting his identification.

Steve abruptly skids to a halt and turns. He dashes into the room to see Bucky strapped down to a table, eyes staring sightlessly ahead as he begins his recitation all over again. Bile rises in Steve’s throat at the sight of his best friend knocked down like this but he shoves the feeling back. Panic later, action now. If Hydra’s abandoning Bucky in the middle of their experiments, that can’t spell anything good for their escape from the base.

He starts working on the straps, keeping an ear out for distant (or perhaps not-so-distant) explosions. Bucky slowly turns to look at him. “Is it…?” he murmurs, voice as rough as gravel, and then trails off, too exhausted to continue.

“It’s me,” Steve assures him. “It’s Steve.”

Bucky blinks. “Steve?”

Steve glances hurriedly toward the door. They can’t linger here. “Come on,” he mutters, helping Bucky off the table. He drapes Bucky’s arm over his shoulders, silently offering him support.

“Steve,” Bucky says again. His brow wrinkles.

“I thought you were dead,” Steve admits.

“I thought you were taller,” Bucky informs him, and even through his worry, Steve has to bite back a grin. There’s the same old Bucky he knows and loves. They’re gonna be just fine.

The first time Steve hears Tony’s heartbeat, they’re fighting.

Steve doesn’t even remember how it got started, just that one moment, they were laughing and talking with each other, and the next, they’re screaming. They’re pressed practically chest to chest as they yell abuses at each other and when Tony accuses him of being unable to move on from the past, Steve sees red. He straightens up, all but looming over Tony.

There’s a weak, stuttered thump.

It so surprises Steve that he blinks and steps away. He’s never—Tony has a heartbeat, he has to, but Steve has never heard it before. In one wild moment, he’d even once thought that Tony’s heart actually no longer beat and he was surviving entirely on the arc reactor. And yet, what else can it be?

Tony doesn’t seem to notice Steve’s hesitation and he steps in close again, jabbing his finger into Steve’s chest. Steve hears it again, frail and rhythmless and nearly hidden beneath a soft whirr that he’d never noticed before.

The arc reactor.

He’d never heard Tony’s heart because of the arc reactor.

Now that he hears it, he doesn’t know how he’d missed it before. It’s so much. It’s loud, drowning out nearly everything else, or maybe that’s the blood rushing in his ears as it really, truly hits him for the first time that this piece of metal and light is all that’s keeping Tony alive.

“How do you stand it?” he whispers.

Tony steps away, caught off guard. Immediately, Steve misses hearing that sound, that reassurance that Tony’s heart still beats under the reactor, and he follows him.

“Stand what?” Tony asks uncertainly, gaze landing on everything but Steve standing a few inches away from him.

Steve lays his hand over the reactor, covering up its glow. Only—the very thought, that it could go dark and he would lose the thing that matters most to him in this time, terrifies him and he moves his hand away again, realizing only at the last second that his hand is now covering Tony’s heart instead.

“It’s so loud. It’s—I can’t hear you,” he tries to explain.

Tony inhales sharply. “You can hear—” He cuts off, raises his hand to cover Steve’s. Steve nods. “How did no one know that?”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” he admits. “It scared me.” He splays his fingers wide, fingertips brushing the side of the arc reactor and the curve of Tony’s side all at once. “It still scares me.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he begins. Stops. Inhales deeply. Tries again. “Because Clint’s heart could skip more beats than it should and I would hear it but wouldn’t know what to do. Because Natasha could be unhappy and I would never know… Because you could die and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

“Steve—”

Terror makes him brave, who knew? “I can’t hear you unless I’m this close.” He forces himself to meet Tony’s eyes, warm and beautiful. “I always want to be this close, but I know I can’t have that.”

Tony’s lips part on a small gasp. He breathes in unsteadily, heart starting to race. Steve hears it but he doesn’t understand why. “All the words in the world,” Tony eventually says. “And I can’t find the ones I want when I need them.”

“Tony, you don’t have to—”

“Shut up,” Tony murmurs and kisses him.

The last heartbeat Steve hears as he plummets toward the ocean is his own. Red Skull is gone, the remaining Hydra soldiers dead. Peggy’s voice is in his ear but he can barely hear her over his own galloping heartbeat. Figures. The only thing he wants to listen to as he dies is her but he’s still stuck with the heartbeats.

“I’m gonna need a raincheck on that dance,” he tells her.

“Alright,” Peggy says. She sounds like she’s crying. “A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club.”

“You got it,” he promises.

“Eight o’clock on the dot. Don’t you dare be late. Understood?”

The ice is rushing up before him, an expanse of pale blue and white as far as he can see. Maybe, if he’s lucky, the rushing water will drown out the sound of his heart. He doubts it. Steve Rogers has never been lucky.

“You know, I still don’t know how to dance.”

“I’ll show you how. Just be there.”

He wants her voice to be the last thing he hears. He doesn’t want to listen to the sound of his dying heart.

He can’t have everything he wants.

As the bedroom door slides open, through his own exhaustion, Steve hears the gentle whirring of the arc reactor. He blinks his eyes open, taking in the dark room, lit up only by the lights of the city. Even those are dimmed; JARVIS must have the tinted windows darkened. Tony is asleep on his stomach, the arc reactor’s glow muted by his chest pressing it into the blankets.

Steve wearily strips out of his armor, dropping it in the laundry chute to be picked up by the tower bots in the morning. He takes a quick whiff of himself, hoping he doesn’t smell badly enough to need a shower when he’s this tired, and is rewarded with only the slightly stale smell of the Quinjet.

Reassured that he won’t wake his husband up with his rankness, he climbs into their bed, tucking himself under the blankets. Tony grumbles wordlessly, shifting closer to him in his sleep. Steve presses himself along the line of Tony’s body, tucking his head into the curve of Tony’s neck. Nearly silenced by the arc reactor, Tony’s heart beats steadily, still ticking even after all it’s been put through.

He smiles, presses a kiss to Tony’s pulse point, and lets his eyes drift closed.

#alle answers #alle writes #stevetony #if you like please consider reblogging #Anonymous

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amonrawya · 3 years

Text

The Greatest Gift of All

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(Inspired by^ for the people who asked :D hope it was worth the wait!)

Long before the war, before Captain America or the Winter Soldier, there was simply Bucky and Steve. At least, that's what history says. But they missed out one very important person, a girl called Y/N.

Women in those times often found themselves with little opportunity, and only two easily attainable pathways in life: wife and mother. But Y/N carved out a life for herself that defied all expectations, and it all started in Brooklyn.

She dived headlong into scuffles, usually next to Bucky in defence of Steve. Regardless of the opponent, Y/N stood by them both, and often held her own quite impressively.

Her dress style borrowed from more masculine cuts, and Y/N was never seen without her cap. A lot of people had a problem with this, but she shut them up fairly swiftly.

Everything about this girl drew Bucky in, a battle he fought with little effort. They reveled in each other, flaunting their love at every opportunity. More than a few were jealous that the rough and tumble girl got the best looking boy in town.

In a way, before even coming of age, they started an adult life together. The three of them moved into a flat. Y/N and Bucky took hard labour jobs, or anything they could get. They had little room to be picky.

Both managed to hook steady summer jobs at the local docks. They used most of their money to keep a roof over their heads, buy food, and pay for Steve's medical needs. He attended art school, and sold his work every now and then; but physically, he was in no condition to work.

The war appeared on the horizon, just as they started to pull themselves an inch above the poverty line. Y/N saw it coming, the inevitable. She treasured every second they spent together, and dreaded the day when the draft came.

A lot of the older women she worked with were disrespectful, looking down on her pre-marital relationship with Bucky. They claimed she couldn't possibly understand their grief, despite the fact Y/N had seen Bucky off at the docks that very morning.

In truth, they already planned on being married, but at the time, they simply didn't have the funds. Bucky promised, once the war ended, that ring would be on her finger.

Except, he never came home. Not properly. The person Hydra gave back to Y/N was damaged and jaded, angry at the world, angrier than she ever saw. But still, they loved each other. Though she never forgave them for stealing away his innocence, for trying to snuff out the light in his soul. A part of him would always belong to them, and she hated it.

Refusing to stay home while they risked their lives, never knowing, Y/N trained as an army nurse, working specially with the Howling Commandos unit.

Then one day, she went out to welcome them back from a mission. Every face looked devastated, but none more so than Steve. His eyes, red-raw and streaming, seemed incapable of rising from the ground. At first, the realisation didn't process, the idea simply incomprehensible. He promised.

Dugan was the one to finally break through and catch Y/N as she fell, holding her as the tears poured. Once he shook off his daze, Steve took his place, sharing in her grief.

Her world fell apart so quickly, with no warning and no mercy. Their commanders celebrated the capture of Arnim Zola, while Y/N and Steve sat, staring at an empty place at their side.

Everyone mourned Bucky, and swiftly after, began to mourn Y/N, too. The loss took a part of her...the sparkle, the happiness, the laugh that lit up her face. It all vanished. She worked hard, looked after them all, but only Steve was able to make her smile. Even then, it looked pained.

So when Steve went down with the plane, the very last shred of Y/N died with him. No tears left her eyes, no screams ripped up her throat. A cold numbness took over, freezing the woman from the inside out.

V-Day came and went. The Commandos stood and drank to their lost comrades, and Dugan silently drank another...for the loss of a bright, fiery girl who had virtually nothing to lose, and still lost everything.

She spent her days as a robot, doing nothing but going through the motions of badly imitating life. The flat was empty and quiet, yet somehow, bursting with the ghosts of her loved ones. Nightmares plagued her, terrible images of Bucky's body, forever trapped in a freezing hell, nothing but food for the birds. And Steve, his body...was it cast adrift in the ocean? Or destroyed, burnt to ash in the belly of a metal beast.

They were simple folk before the war turned them into soldiers, into weapons. Before symbols and flags stole away their names, driving them to sacrifice their lives for a greater cause.

Y/N knew their fight against Hydra was important...knew the honour behind their sacrifice. But when it's you left sitting at an empty dinner table, it's much easier to be angry and bitter.

She never married, never settled, bouncing around countries working as an army nurse. The Commandos slowly died around her, each one fading to grey as the curtain drew the show to a close. Each death, each funeral ripped open her wounds, bigger and deeper each time. Until eventually, Y/N let the blood flow freely.

Or at least, that's what would have happened. But one choice, one decision, made by a boy she thought dead in the far future, changed it all.

Bucky Barnes struggled to find himself again. His memories were mostly all returned, if a bit hazy and fragmented. He had Steve there to right any wrong recollections, and connect with on their shared experiences. But something always seemed to be missing, a piece of the jigsaw that hadn't been found.

He remembered Y/N. He remembered her clearer than anything. She was glowing like honey in the sun when Bucky closed his eyes and brought her back to mind.

Face covered in muck, hair tousled and streaked with grease from the boats, soot on the very tip of her nose and a cap perched jauntily on her head; wearing the deepest expression of concentration as she aimed a hanful of rotten fish guts at the sleezy Connell boy from Fifth, who decided his opinion on her backside mattered. The image shone crystal clear. Her laughter, rolling out from between curved lips, beautiful and full of mischief.

It never failed to make him smile. Or cry. Or sometimes, both. He missed Y/N than he thought possible for a human being.

Bucky often wondered about her life, whether she went on to marry, or maybe even have children. Was she happy? Did she bury him and move on? If they met today, would Y/N even recognise the man he was now?

More importantly, in his mind, something he both feared and longed to know: would she still love him?

Unbeknownst to Bucky, Steve saw all this. Understood, to a degree, his pain. But he and Peggy never got the chance to bond so strongly. He knew Bucky needed him, but Steve also knew he needed Y/N more.

So once his goodbyes were said, he looked one last time at Bucky, and smiled beneath his suit as he vanished into time.

The living room looked exactly the same as he remembered. Bucky's coat, slung over the back of the chair, his sketchbooks strewn around the desk. Every rip and chip. His heart swelled with nostalgia, and pain, thinking of the life they were supposed to have.

What must have been in their heads...running off to fight, so eager to throw everything away. And who was left to stare at empty beds and eat breakfast alone every morning? Y/N.

His chest constricted, hearing the keys in the door, the lock rattling three times before letting her in. His nerve faltered for the briefest second, wondering if he was ready to see her again.

"Who the hell are you?!"

Time's up.

Slowly, he turned, and watched as Y/N's eyes widened, all the bags in her hands falling to the floor with a crash.

"...Stevie?" The name came out as a whisper, nearly inaudible.

He grinned, laughing as tears stung his eyes. "Hey, spitfire. Long time no see."

"Steve!" She launched herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck and clinging on for dear life.

Catching her by the waist, he swung Y/N around, burying his face in her hair. They held onto one another as if they might vanish if they let go. But after a minute, Steve gently pushed her back.

"How? How are you here? What are you wearing? I don't understand, Steve, they said you died! Your plane went down in the ocean," she stammered, hand on his forearm with a grip like a vice.

"I survived. The serum kept me alive in the ice for seventy years," he said, questioning his own sanity momentarily; standing in the flat again made everything that happened seem like a distant dream.

Y/N frowned, brows knitting together. "What? Did you hit your head? Steve, this is 1945."

"I know, I came from 2023. I'm alive," he said, and saw her mentally backing away, so added, "I'm alive, and so is Bucky."

Her head snapped up, eyes immediately filling with tears. A dozen emotions whizzed through them in a second; disbelief, pain, hope. It shone clearly in her face as she stepped closer.

What did you say?" She asked, voice choked as she brought her shaking hands up to her mouth.

"Bucky's alive," he repeated softly, "and I can send you to him, in the future. But we don't have a lot of time. You need to listen to me, carefully, and do what I say."

She spluttered, struggling for words. "I, but...what about you?"

"I've made my decision," Steve said, and gently took her hands in his, "now, please, listen."

Bucky watched the machine, feeling a wave of numbness wash over his insides. Nothing was a better deal than the pain, the cruel sting of betrayal fighting to be felt. But he beat it back, unable to allow those thoughts validation.

Steve gave up so much for him, he fought for years to get him here. Steve deserved this. And no matter how wrong those words sounded in his head, he resolutely stood by them.

The seconds ticked by, noted by Bruce's countdown. A flash of guilt almost made Bucky explain what was going to happen, explain that Steve left them. Left him. But he possessed no energy to speak, they'd see in a second, when no one appeared-

Zap. A blinding flash of light.

There's someone there.

Bucky frowned, hands falling from his pockets. Did Steve change his mind? Did he...

All the thoughts in his head stopped as the figure stepped down. Too small, too lithe for it to be Steve. Bucky's heart rate quickened, something in his unconscious already registering his recognition.

The suit fell away, and if he weren't frozen in place, Bucky wouldn't have been standing. A quiver shot through him, nearly buckling his knees. Shock, fear and pure disbelief all delayed his reaction.

Y/N looked around, amazed, but turned to stone as she set eyes on him. Her face went utterly blank, a strangled sound leaving her lips.

Wearing her yard slacks, with a small bag on her shoulder, her face covered in dirt, hair streaked with grease, cap perched on-top, slanted to one side...she was everything he remembered, and his heart tried to leave his chest to go to her. To be whole again.

But fear held him back. She didn't know the things he'd done, the person he became after the train accident. What if-

"Who is she?" Sam asked, glaring as he stalked towards her, an accusation rising on his lips.

Bucky answered without hesitation, or thinking; the question had been asked countless times over the years. It always recieved the same reply. "My doll."

Sam stopped short, glancing between them, the way neither took their eyes off the other. He nodded, brows still closely knit, and backed off.

Slowly, Y/N approached, encouraged by the sound of his voice. She reached out carefully, when she got close enough. Trembling fingers brushed his cheek, and a shudder ran through her.

"My Bucky..." She said quietly, eyes roaming over his face, a small smile tugging at her lips, "...you're here, in front of me. Alive."

He swallowed dryly, heart thundering away beneath his skin. "I'm different...you don't know..."

No sooner had the words left his mouth that her eyes found the cold metal where his flesh used to be. In reaching to hold it, she'd been taken by surprise.

Gently, Y/N took the hand in her own, examing the limb with a careful gaze. Moments passed, and she met his eyes again. Bucky steeled himself for rejection, for the disgust and horror.

Her hand went back to his cheek, and he involuntairly leaned into it. The warmth seeped into his blood. She stood on her tip toes, the smile on her lips blossoming into a bright beam of sunlight. "You've always been my Bucky, and always will be. Metal appendages and all."

He fell apart and dove down to capture her lips, clutching her to him with the hunger of a starving man. She pulled herself in, hands tangling in his brown locks, and both tasted salt on the others' lips.

So filled with joy his heart could burst, Bucky revelled in the feeling of holding his girl again. Laughing through the tears, he buried his face in her neck.

Thank you, Steve, for the greatest gift of all.

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thefallennightmare · 3 years

Text

Dorogaya[Epilogue]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Words: 1568

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, angst, and some smut.

Summary: It has been sometime since Y/N and Bucky went into hiding but now their past is returning. Can this new relationship survive the Civil War that’s about to happen?

Tags: @capstopavenger @empath-bunny @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything

A/N: I cannot believe I finished TWO stories, it’s a big moment. The next part of these series will be out at some point. I need to will myself to rewatch Infinity War. Thank you to everyone who had read both and stayed along for the ride. It means the world to me <3

I remember who she was, what she was to me. Hydra kidnapped her years ago and forced me to train her. They wanted her to be the female version of me, another winter soldier. I refused at first and was punished. They strapped me to that chair, burning my mind until I agreed. She was so beautiful, the first time I saw her she took my breath away.

The way her hair hung past her shoulders or the way she would chew on the left side of her bottom lip when she was nervous for our training sessions. I remember being drawn to the beauty mark right below her right eye, dark and prominent. It looked like a piece of jewelry on her.

My fingers shook as the tears fell from my eyes, staining the page, while I turned to the next one; Bucky’s written words mending my heart.

She was always afraid to fight me, I could tell in the way her heart would beat through her chest. I could hear it from my room across the building. I knew when she was asleep by the way her breathing would slow and I knew when she was awake from the soft voice coming from her room, signing a tune I found myself loving. She was the one that made the hell we were in bearable.

I may have forgotten everything at the hands of Hydra but there was always one thing I remembered; our last night together when we were captured together.

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, knowing exactly what night he was talking about.

I remember the way her back arched, chest exposed to the air, when I kissed my way down her stomach to her most prized area. Her breath caught in her throat when she felt my lips on her, savoring the way she tasted; salty with a tinge of sweetness. The feeling of her heels locking me into place, pulling me in closer and deeper. The beautiful sound of her moans was music to my ears; I could still hear it now. She was breathtaking that night and I hope to one day feel herself on me again.

The night air had done nothing to help my burning cheeks as I read that paragraph a few more times. I had been on my own for a few weeks now, Shuri and T’challa came to visit every once in a while to check on me or give me updates about Bucky. Occasionally, the young kids would come to get a look at the “White Wolf”, a nickname they gave Bucky, but would frown when I would inform them that he wasn’t with me yet.

Steve sent a few texts every now and then on a burner phone that he had given me. From the few conversations we had, I found out that him, Nat, Wanda, Sam, and Vision were on the run together. He wouldn’t tell me where, obviously, but I always wished him well.

The fire in front of me warmed my feet, keeping the night air from making me shiver, and I turned my attention back to Bucky’s journal.

She’s sitting across from me right now, reading a book, and she’s never looked more beautiful. Her lip is sucked between her teeth as she’s reading, the words unfamiliar to her. She wanted to learn Romanian. Her eyes are so bright, the color bringing a sense of familiarity to me. Every time she looks at me, I want to wrap my arms around her and kiss her until my last breath. The sun from outside had casted a warm glow around her like an angel. My Dorogaya.

I can’t find the right words to say it to her face but I love her; always had. Even though Hydra made her into something she has no control over, she doesn’t let it bother her. She focuses on helping me heal that she forgets she needs to heal herself. We made a promise that life on the run wouldn’t be permanent. I don’t care, I’d go anywhere with her.

A quick lick of my finger, the page turned easily between them.

She told me about her past with Steve. This unfamiliar feeling burned inside when she talked about how close they were. She claimed that Steve and I used to be best friends but I don’t remember. All I can remember is her.

The date on the last passage made my breath catch in my throat; the night before everything changed.

She was attacked at work tonight. I tried to talk to her about it but her powers took over. I never wanted this life for her, she doesn't deserve this life. She deserves everything good in the world so I sometimes wonder if I’m enough for her. I love her with every single feeling inside of me but I can’t find it in my heart to tell her. The words burn on my tongue, wanting to scream it at her but nothing comes out. I don’t know how much longer I’ll have with her before she realizes that I can’t move past everything that happened to me. I’m trying, for her, but the screams are too much. I promised that I would take care of her, give her everything she deserves, but I’m afraid that she’ll walk away. I can’t lose her, I love her so fucking much.

Feeling sad that I had finished reading the journal, I closed it with a loud sigh. It was full of memories of us and knowing that he remembered all of that made me fall more in love with him. He loved me all this time and knew that I was the one for him, he was just afraid that I would leave him for taking too long.

Never in a million years.

“Rogers, leave Natasha alone! That’s her pile of food!”

I chased around one of the goats before letting out a frustrated groan. It had been a few months now of my new life in Wakanda and to ease the loneliness I not only took up gardening like Steve had mentioned, I also decided to raise some goats.

Bad decision.

They kept me on my toes every single day, hence why I named them after Steve and Nat, but I had to admit that it gave me a reason to get up every day.

Shuri continued to visit after her sessions with Bucky, saying that he was doing well. She wanted to be careful in removing the words from his mind. Hydra had done a number on his brain and even if she could remove the words, he would still have to deal with the mental thoughts of exactly what happened in his past.

“You know,” Shuri spoke one day, “I saw a lot of memories involving you.”

I went red with embarrassment. “You did?”

She nodded. “He loves you very much. I think the thought of you is what’s keeping him alive. He’s dreaming peacefully now.”

I raised my shoulders in confusion. “Then when will he wake up?”

“I don’t know. Wherever he is ready,” Shuri admitted with a sigh.

The sun had begun to set so after a long time trying to wrangle the goats into their pen for the night, I was ready to turn in myself another night of sleeping alone.

“Dorogaya?”

My heels spun around with a flash at the familiar name. Standing in front of me was a very refreshed and relaxed looking man. His missing arm was covered with a sling of fabric. The soft breeze had wrapped around us, blowing his hair away from his eyes that shined with the familiar light I missed so much.

“Bucky?” I asked, words trembling.

I was afraid this was another dream I was having.

“I missed you,” he breathed while breaking out into a huge grin.

The bottom of my feet sped through the tall grass towards him and even with one arm, he had caught me with ease. Our lips danced for the first time in months but they never missed a beat. It was a teeth smacking, tongue dancing, kiss that fueled the fire deep within and the pleasure I felt from the both of us was almost too much to handle.

Reluctantly I pulled away but pinched his cheeks, just to make sure he was real.

“Ow,” he hissed. “What was that for?”

My smile reached my eyes, I was so happy.

“Just making sure it’s really you.”

He gave me another kiss. “I missed you.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, smelling the familiar scent; teakwood and mint.

“I missed you too.” I admitted with a long sigh.

Still in his grasp, he looked around our little home with a proud smile. “You’ve made a nice home for yourself.”

Immediately I shook my head to correct him. “For us.”

We shared another passionate kiss and I could feel his feet move, walking us towards our hut.

“Show me around then, doll,” he hinted with a sly smirk.

For the first time in a very long time, Bucky and I laid tangled together in a mess of sweaty flesh and knotted sheets. Our proclamations of love bounced off the clay walls. Everything was perfect again and I was going to hold on tight to him. Nothing would come between us. We would finally be able to start our lives together.

My Soldat and his Dorogaya.

AND FIN!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes and reader #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes and reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers and reader #reader insert #captain america #the winter soldier

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writings-of-bored-gal · 3 years

Text

New Jersey Dog Sanctuary

Summary: Meet cute! Bucky is told he needs to get a dog and so goes with Sam to the shelter where he meets someone he wasn’t expecting. (It’s not overly romantic, mostly just wholesome Bucky but if I write a part 2 things will heat up a little!)

Words: 1704

Author’s Note: Hi guys! I’m so sorry I’ve been MIA for so long, but hopefully this will be the beginning of me posting more regularly again! I’ve actually really missed writing fanfic but I’ve been taking the time to work on some original bits too so maybe they’ll make their appearance on here some time in the future. For now, enjoy some soft Bucky fluff and make sure to keep sending me any requests (particularly Marvel stuff because I am riding a WandaVision marvel high at the moment!) Sending all the love- Abby x

Masterlist

_________

“C’mon Sam you know that this is more hassle than we need right now.” Bucky sighed. The sign above them read ‘New Jersey Dog Sanctuary’ in large green letters, punctuated with a paw print on either side. The glass door opened up to a lobby lined with sofas covered in dog hair. On one sat a kid, clutching a small scruffy terrier to his chest like his life depended on it. Bucky shook his head.

“Look, Buck the therapist said you needed a dog, so we’re getting you a dog,” Sam gave him a sharp look, staring at him. Bucky met his gaze. A staring contest. He knew the stakes without having to say a word. If he won, he wouldn’t have to go in, but if he blinked he’d be stuck with some dog he’d be forced to take with him on missions, getting in the way and making him trip up. Sam’s eyes did not move, but his hands clapped, making Bucky flinch, and worse, blink.

“Cheater.”

“That’s just another word for winner, Barnes,” Sam winked, gesturing to the door. “After you.”

The sound of barking and the smell of fur hit the moment they walked into the place. There was a girl sitting behind the counter, her hair pulled back but strands still falling on her face as she frantically answered the phone and tried to pull something up on her laptop. She smiled at Sam and Bucky and held up a finger, pleading with her eyes.

“What do you think of that one?” Sam said, pulling Bucky’s attention and pointing to a spaniel in the corner on a pink leash. Bucky shook his head and pulled a face. “Okay, something bigger?” Bucky sighed again, and nodded. “What about that one?” Sam pointed to a dalmatian who was jumping up at one of the workers. One he looked past the dog, Bucky realised that the girl was kinda pretty, smiling at the dog and letting it lick her face affectionately, half-laughing at something one of her co-workers had said to her.

When Bucky once again shook his head, Sam gave up. The receptionist gave a cough behind them.

“Did y’all make an appointment?” She asked, her fingers poised and ready to type.

“It’ll be under Barnes,” Sam answered for Bucky. “We’re looking for a big dog and I looked on the website and-”

“Alright,” the receptionist interrupted, “if you take a seat on the couch over that way I’ll have someone be over with you soon.”

“You looked on the website?” Bucky asked as they turned away and made their way over to the couch. “Is this dog for you or for me?”

Sam punched his good arm and Bucky rolled his eyes, scanning the couch to find a surface not covered with hair to sit on, unsuccessfully. The whole thing was covered with different coloured fur, creating a strange montage of white, black and brown shades on the bright green of the couch. Sam slumped down in the chair and Bucky took his chance to take a glance back at where the girl with the Dalmatian had been a minute earlier, but she was gone.

“Hi there!” Bucky turned to see her standing there. The Dalmatian was gone from her side, but she was still brushing her front to try and rid herself of the lingering fur. She smiled brightly, her eyes crinkling as she looked between Bucky and Sam. “Take a seat. My name is Y/N and I’ll be helping you out with finding a dog here today.” She took a seat and pulled a notepad onto her lap. Bucky sat down, feeling Sam’s smug eyes on him but desperately trying to ignore him.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Sam and we’re here to look for a dog for grandpa Buck over here.” Sam smirked as Bucky shot him a death glare. She turned her attention to Bucky, kindness in her eyes as she looked him up and down.

“I’m guessing a big dog, right?” She asked.

“I guess, yeah,” Bucky said, folding his arms over his chest. “And not too young, we don’t really have time to train it properly.”

“Okay no problem,” she nodded, jotting some notes down, “any other preferences?”

“It’s a therapy dog,” Sam said, “so-”

“Sam!”

“No it’s okay,” the girl said, stopping the argument before it could begin, “we actually don’t have any licensed dogs here on site but if it’s just for companionship and comfort then there shouldn’t be any issues.”

Bucky nodded solemnly. It had been a kick in the teeth when the therapist Sam had forced him to go to had told him that he would need an animal. He’d survived for so long on his own, it felt almost strange to even be with Sam so often. Having to rely on an animal felt like he was losing independence. When he’d told his therapist that she had tried to convince him that having a dog would actually help with his independence, but he wasn’t buying it.

“Okay,” the girl said, interrupting Bucky’s train of thought, “I’m gonna go and take this list and see if there’s anyone who I think would be a good match for you.” She hesitated for a second, clearly wanting to say something more before deciding against it and turning to go back to her office.

There was a beat of silence after she left before Sam pounced.

“She’s...nice.”

“I guess.”

“You like her.” Sam said, unable to stop himself. “She’s cute Barnes, give her your number.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so,” he shook his head. She was too normal, too sweet. He was screwed in the head and she wouldn’t be able to handle it. It was pointless. It was dumb. She probably wasn’t interested.

“She thought you were cute too, y’know.” Sam sighed, picking up a brochure and beginning to browse, one eye remaining on Bucky as he raised his eyebrow, considering before shaking his head.

The girl rounded the corner once again, a file in hand and a nervous smile playing on her lips. Bucky tried to match her smile, feign some excitement for her sake at least, but it came out more like a grimace and he decided it best just not to make eye contact and let Sam do the talking.

“Alright, I have a dog that might be good for you,” she started gently, “he’s a two year old Husky named Loki and he’s honestly such a sweetheart.”

“Loki?” Bucky asked, his brows furrowing.

“I know, I know, but you can rename him in time and he’s not at all mischievous.” She handed over the file to Bucky. The photo of Loki, all grey and white fur, stared up at him with icy blue eyes. It was a nice looking dog. His previous owners had moved to Europe and couldn’t take him with them so they’d bought him into the shelter just a couple of weeks before.

He could feel her watching him, leaning forward and trying to hide the way she was nervously picking at her fingers as he examined the sheet. Sam’s eyes were on him too, but he didn’t care much what he thought.

“Okay,” he huffed, noting the glint in her eyes as she leaned in towards him, “let’s meet him and see what the deal is.”

She suppressed a squeal and told Bucky and Sam to head down the path towards the meeting area, a closed off space behind the park-like yard that had toys and treats already waiting for them. They stood and waited, the crisp fall sunshine keeping them from getting too cold.

She knocked before leading Loki into meet them. The dog locked eyes with Bucky, almost pulling her over as he tried to go and meet him.

“He likes people!” She chuckled, closing the door and letting him off the leash so he could bound over.

Immediately, the dog nuzzled his head into Bucky’s lap, nudging his head under his metal arm to be pet. Bucky obliged, feeling the dog’s soft fur run through his fingers, privately annoyed at how he knew straight away that his therapist had been right. He looked over to Sam who nodded approvingly, before meeting her eyes. They shone with unshed tears as she smiled at the pair of them.

“I’ll go out and let you guys get acquainted-”

“No!” Bucky interrupted her, “I mean, he’s obviously comfortable with you here so you really don’t need to. And, y’know,” he cleared his throat, “I, uh… I’m more comfortable with you sticking around for a little bit.”

A slow grin spread over her face as she joined Bucky and Loki on the floor. Sam stood back, sneakily taking a photo on his phone which he threatened to send to Fury. A long forgotten feeling washed over him. It wasn’t quite happiness, but there was a kind of joy in it, in knowing that there was going to be someone there who needed him that wasn’t an annoying bird-man. Contentment. He was content in this moment, this small world. A pretty girl smiling at him, a dog on his lap. The life he could have had if he hadn’t been drafted.

“So… what do you think?” She asked him. Loki was lying at his feet, a ball between his paws. She sat beside him, close enough that he could smell the faint traces of her perfume.

“You said he’d be okay to come on a mission, right?” Bucky asked.

“I’d avoid anything with too many loud noises… but if he was kept somewhere safe he’d be okay to travel.” She shrugged. She leaned forward to put Loki’s leash back on, but her hand brushed his and Bucky felt a shower of goosebumps cover his skin. He turned away, feeling his face flush, only to see Sam’s smug face.

ASK HER OUT he mouthed. Bucky shook his head. IF YOU DON’T I WILL. Bucky glared at him before turning back to her.

“If you wanna talk, by the way,” she pulled out Loki’s file and scribbled something down, “here’s my number.” She didn’t meet his gaze, but smiled a little, her fingers messing with Loki’s fur. “Y’know, about dog stuff.”

“I’ll call you,” Bucky replied a little too quickly, “about… dog stuff.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Sam nudged him. She blushed a little and nodded, handing Loki’s leash over to Bucky, letting his hand linger before leading them back.

Bucky looked up at the sky over the dog park, feeling hope fill his chest for the first time in a long time.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky imagines #bucky #marvel #marvel imagines #Winter Soldier #tfatws #imagines #Avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader #fan fiction #fanfiction #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

Miss Piggy

Summary: You are head over heels for your elder brother’s best friend – sadly he doesn’t reciprocate the feelings.

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Rogers!Reader, Steve x Sister!Reader, Sam Wilson, Brock Rumlow, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff, Carol Danvers, OFC’s

Warnings: angst, unrequited love, language, Bucky being a douche, mentions of violence, remorse, awful dates, mentions of sex

Music blares through the night. You can smell the booze and beer in your brother's living room, just like cheap perfume and sweat as his friends talk, drink, and laugh.

Steve insisted that you shall join the party. Working the whole week and spending your time in your room is not the way he imagined how you spend your life.

“Get a beer, relax and dance with the girls.” Steve tries to make you feel comfortable around his friends, but most of the time you feel like you do not belong.

Nat, Wanda, and Carol are nice, but the other girls drawn to your brother and his friends, are always bitching around.

While Steve’s female friends are nice, even drag you out of your shell sometimes the other girls seem to do not like you.

Maybe it’s as Steve focusses his attention on you, his sister, when you are around or that you do not drink until you pass out, but they always find a reason to make you feel unwelcome.

“You look pretty tonight, Y/N. I bet all the guys in this room, except for your brother, of course, will lose their heart to you.” Sam Wilson, Mr. Charming in flesh and blood takes your hand to lead you toward Clint and Wanda.

“There she is!” Wanda smirks, looking you all over before she gives you an approving hum. “You bought a pink one! Me too!” Wanda wears a pink top, white skinny jeans and matching pink heels. “We look like twins.”

“I must admit, Wanda is right.” Clint snickers as the redhead gives him a thumb up at his comment. “You look stunning, just like Miss Maximoff. I bet Bucky will finally make a move.” You like Clint, but sometimes his mouth is faster than his brain.

Just like right now. While he blurs out the words two of the girls who tried to get Steve’s and Bucky’s attention start to giggle before they run off.

“I don’t think so…” Grumbling you take the beer Sam offers, returning his soft smile. “I am not the kind of girl Bucky would ask out. We are friends, that’s all.”

“He calls you doll; Y/N. Bucky never called any other girl like that.” Natasha insists as she steps closer.

“Our shy guy is watching you since you entered the room. I can tell he does not want to hold hands or crap. His looks are full of hunger…”

“Don’t scare her, Nat. Let’s make sure he will dance with our fledgling.” Clint grins as he strides toward Steve to distract your brother long enough for Bucky to make a move.

“Go and get the guy. Just walk over there and ask him about his new bike. You know, he bought a new one last week. It’s black and he asked someone to give the bike a nice ‘tattoo’ in a week.” Wanda shoves you toward Bucky.

You want to talk to him, want to ask him about the bike, just like Wanda suggested but two girls flank his side and he seems to enjoy their company.

Before you can even say ‘hi’ to your brothers’ best friend one of the girl's eyes you up and down, snorting at your pink dress.

“What does Miss Piggy want here? Did Stevie invite everyone in town or is she a clown?” The girl snickers and you feel your heart drop.

You liked the dress, Wanda liked it too, but that girl looks at you as if you are wearing a clown suit.

“I guess Stevie wanted her to have fun,” Bucky smirks as you look down your body to find a reason why the girl laughed about you. “I guess she stole the dress from Miss Piggy to impress the boys.”

The words coming from the man you admire, even secretly are in love with feel like someone stabbed your heart, twisted the knife, and carved it out of your chest.

“Look at the little girl. I guess she’s about to cry…” The other girl coos and you turn on your heels before you storm out of the room to run upstairs.

Natasha and Wanda call your name, even run after you while Sam storms toward Bucky, followed by a very pissed Clint.

“Y/N, Sweetie…wait…” Natasha tries but you slam the door to your room shut. Locking your door, you sniffle silently as Natasha calls your name. “Open the door, Y/N. Come on. Tell us what happened…”

“Ask Bucky and his girls.” Turning toward your bed you open the zipper, shove the straps down your shoulders to let the dress pool around your ankles.

“Y/N?” You can hear Steve’s voice from the other side of the door, but tonight you will not open the door for your brother either. “Cupcake, open the door or I’ll kick it open!”

“Stevie, go back to your party and have fun with your friends and those girls. I am just having a headache.” Changing into pajamas, fluffy socks, and your favorite slipper you sit onto your bed, wiping the tears away.

“I will break it, Y/N.” Steve rams his shoulder against your door and you get up, sighing.

“Why did you cry?” The moment you open the door, Steve, cups your cheek. “Baby sis?”

“It’s stupid, Stevie. I should have known better than to try to talk to your best friend while he’s surrounded by two chicks. I am Miss Piggy to them and Bucky. Just let me have some sleep and tomorrow I’ll go and have some fun.”

“I will rip him a new one! I swear he’ll not survive this party!” Steve’s voice booms through your room as he stands there to watch you curl into a ball onto your bed.

“Save it, Stevie. We both know that this was my fault. I had to buy this stupid dress and go to a party where I do not belong. They are your friends, not mine. I should stick to the men asking me out.” Steve covers you with your blanket, not knowing what to think about his friend’s behavior.

“Y/N, I’ll be back later. Sleep a bit.” Your brother presses a soft kiss to your temple before he leaves your room.

His hands balled into fists he storms down the staircases to beat his friend into a pulp.

“Wait! Stevie, you can’t do this…” Natasha and Wanda drag the girls bullying you out of Steve’s house. Natasha even fisted the girl’s hair to drag her out.

“You were not invited. Out of my house and I dare you to get close to my house, my club or my sister, the girl you harassed, ever again. I know you like to be close to the big bad bikers, but do you know what happens to people hurting my sister?” Steve towers over the girls and they flinch when he steps closer.

“We didn’t know she’s your sister…Sir.” The girl calling you Miss Piggy whines.

“I don’t care if you did know shit! You came to my house, uninvited and harassed one of my guests. My sister or not, if you come to my house, you respect the people in there or you will pay for it. Get out of my sight before I forget my manners!”

Wanda never saw Steve that mad before. Even she flinched when he made another step toward the girls.

“Let’s get back inside, the show is over.” Sam tries as the girls run away. “We should talk to Bucky. I want to know why he pulled that shit after you allowed him to go out with Y/N. I don’t get him…”

“Same, Sam. I told him he can ask her out and he has the guts to hurt my baby sis at my party, at my house.”

“I want to hear it coming from you Buck. I want to hear why you broke my vulnerable baby sis’s heart.” Arms crossed over his chest Steve glares at his friend as Bucky runs one hand down his face.

“I had to scare her off. You know that I am no good for your sister. We are the bad guys, bikers and my job is it to beat the shit out of people disrespecting you, the club and our members. All I know is how to drink, hit people and fuck a girl behind a bar.”

“I knew this when I told you that Y/N is no longer off-limits to you. She is in love with you since she turned sixteen, Buck. My baby sis wants you, so she will get you. Now find a way to make it up to her and come back tomorrow.” Steve steps closer, jaw ticking, hands balled into fists he nods at Sam.

“Bucky, you should go now. Have a shower, wear clean clothes, and buy flowers for the girl. You better prepare a speech before you come to the inquisition.” Clint hums, watching Brock flirt with Natasha.

“Dude, hands off my girl!”

“I did not touch her, Barton. I got a nice girl right over there. Her ass is even nicer.” Snickering Carol gives her boyfriend a wink. “Where’s Peggy, Steve?”

“At her parent's place. She has to explain why a biker is the right guy for her – again by the way.” Sighing Steve falls onto a chair, running his fingers nervously through his hair. “I don’t know if she will stay with me.”

“You’re a catch, Steve. Now let us talk about how to kick Bucky’s ass for hurting our girl.” Clint’s eyes meet your brothers. “Kicking his balls? Scratching his new bike? Cutting his hair…or wait – he already did so as the colleague Y/N flirted with has short black hair…”

“Shut up, punk…” Bucky was silent the whole time but now he grits his teeth. “I did it to make sure she can find a nice guy…”

“And a nice guy she’ll find…”

“Where are you going?” Watching you walk down the stairs, wearing a brand-new cerulean dress and a fake smile you stop in your tracks as your brother looks at you.

“I do what you told me to do. I will have more in my life than work and hiding in my room. Alexander Pierce junior asked me out weeks ago. I refused to go out with him but after last night…”

Stiffing you give Steve a cracked smile. “Bucky is out of my league, I got that, so I’ll try to find a nice guy appreciating me and my Miss Piggy dress.” Pecking Steve’s cheek, you ignore Sam’s worried face, or the way your brother’s jaw ticks.

“You sure about that?”

“I can’t wait for the rest of my life for your best friend to fall in love with me. I thought, no believed, that Bucky is at least my friend, but I was wrong.”

Steve cannot do anything but watch you walk out of the house. While you step out of your brother’s house, Bucky sprints toward the gate as you keep your eyes trained toward the car waiting for you.

“Doll…uh—hey.” Bucky tries, opening the door but you ignore his presence, his words, and the single rose in his hands.

“Mr. Barnes.” Your voice is cold, eyes not meeting his you pass him by without acknowledging him further.

Steve’s eyes follow you to the parked car, the one belonging to your date and he nods at Sam. Signalizing him and Clint to follow you to make sure your date behaves like a gentleman.

“She has a date…” Huffing Bucky looks at the single rose in his hands.

“Yeah, with Alexander Pierce junior, the world's biggest asshole. Follow that girl and get her.” Brock grunts, pointing toward Bucky’s brand-new bike. “We all know you want that guy to spray Y/N’s name on your bike.”

“Maybe that guy is the better choice, Brock. We are…” Fisting Bucky’s leather jacket Brock glares at his friend.

“Listen, Bucky. We had our conflicts in the beginning, but I hope you know we are friends. I would not let my girl go for anything in the world. Am I an ass? – yes! Did I do stupid and dangerous stuff? – yes! Would I let Alexander Pierce junior fuck my girl? – no fucking way!”

“Fuck her?” Pale Bucky swallows the lump in his throat. Panic rises in his chest and he nods at Steve. “I need the club…all of us. I will get my girl…”

“You heard my first lieutenant. Let’s ride…”

Dinner could be pleasant if your date would be more subtle while staring at other women’s ass or at least try to listen to what you have to say.

The whole time the man asking you five times to go out with him has nothing better to do than playing with his phone, telling you about his newest car and on top of all – he stares at your waitresses ass.

“That’s nice…” Poking the food he ordered with your fork (He didn’t even give you the chance to decide what you want to eat.) you try to remember why you agreed to go out with this awful man.

Outside the restaurant, Steve’s club parks their bikes. Steve smirks, as Bucky nervously straightens his clothes.

“I’ll go and get my girl now.” Bucky takes the roses from Natasha before he rushes toward the restaurant. He is nervously opening the door, but the moment his eyes land on you his back straightens, and he walks toward the table.

“Excuse us, but we are trying to have a conversation. We don’t need…” Your date glances up at an incredibly angry-looking biker and you can help yourself but giggle as his jaw goes slack and his fork drops onto the table.

“What do you want here?” Alexander juniors’ eyes widen as you bark at the biker right next to him. “I have a nice dinner right now. I don’t think Miss Piggy has time for an audience right now.”

“Doll, I tried to help you hate me. Stevie allowed me to ask you out for a date and I panicked. I believed someone with a regular job and a not so shitty past would be better for you.” Humming you place the fork next to the plate.

“Interesting. So, you believed that I would like to go out with a guy not giving a shit on me. With someone not even listening to what I have to say while he’s busy looking at every girl’s ass in the restaurant?” Your words make Bucky chuckle and he holds out his hand, but you get up without taking his hand.

“Y/N.” Ignoring Bucky you grab your purse, toss some money onto the table before you turn to leave. “Please, doll. Let me apologize for acting like a douche.”

“You’re an idiot, Barnes.” Bucky follows you outside, rushing to your side to walk with you. He tries to guide you toward his bike, but you walk toward your brother.

“Guys, Girls.” Nodding at Steve’s club you want to get on Steve’s bike, but he shakes his head. “Steve?”

“Cupcake, he’s your man now. Teach him a lesson but let him drive you home.” Your eyes narrow as Steve motions the club to start their engines. The whole club let their engine roar before they drive away.

“Doll…please…” Huffing you turn around to look at Bucky. “I am the first lieutenant of the Howling Commando. I’d like to drive you home and more…”

“More, Mr. Barnes?” Humming Bucky shows you the roses and you let your eyes drink him in.

“I want to know why you cut your hair.”

“You flirted with that guy, admiring his new haircut. I thought you did not like my long hair and cut it. I wanted to get your attention, Y/N. Can I drive you home now, doll? Please?”

“I need to be at home at …” Smirking you shrug. “I don’t know when. I mean, it depends if you want to feel my big brothers’ wrath.”

“We could go for a walk with my bike, Y/N. I mean…uh—doll. I’d like to spend some time with you.”

“It’s 2 am, James Buchanan Barnes.“ Eyes narrowed, hands balled into fists your brother watches Bucky and you walk upstairs. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes, Stevie. You said I am her man now. The lady wanted to go for a ride with my bike, then she wanted some ice cream and now we are going to her room and watch her favorite movie. It’s called redemption.”

“Did you touch her?” Steve cocks his head, poking a finger into his friends’ chest. “I dare you to say yes…”

“I held her hand and helped her off my bike. I may or may not kissed her lips and touched her neck with my lips. I think I’d like to touch her some more, but we did not even reach the first base…” Bucky smirks while you tug at his jacket.

“I want to watch a movie.” Whining you look at Steve. “He won’t get any until he made everything up to me.”

“Fine. You can watch a movie with my sister. No touching. No kissing. No making-out.”

“Yes, Sir.” Bucky follows you upstairs as Sam, Clint, and the others watch the both of you. “Our girl grew up so fast…” Sam sighs.

“We need to make sure he uses condoms,” Clint adds while the girls dreamily watch Bucky grasp for your hand.

“I guess they will go at it like animals soon enough.” Brock snickers and Steve feels his stomach tighten.

“Fuck! I did forget they could have sex…”

Laughter fills the house and Steve can feel his heart race as you turn around to press your lips to his first lieutenant.

“Yeah, Steve. Sooner or later he will ruin your baby sis…”

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firefly-in-darkness · 4 years

Text

Misconceptions - 6/12

Characters: Y/N, the Avengers, Marcus (OC).

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Series Summary: Bucky Barnes overhears a conversation that he shouldn’t have… and now he regrets his reaction…

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Angst, jealousy...

Beta: The always lovely, Stacey - @princessmisery666 // all mistakes are my own.

A/N: Erm... so yeah this happened... I think this is gonna be a 10 parter... with an epilogue... just fo a little extra somthing... or it could be another 5 parts. Who knows right now, I’m enjoying this story too much to give it up just yet! Hope you like the new part too - love the feedback as always

Catch up with the series here: Misconceptions Series List

Return to Firefly’s Library & Masterlist

Previously: It wasn’t until Sam started putting the cards back on the window sill that Y/N realised that there was nothing from Bucky. Has he even been to see me? With now only the glow of the small lamp and the beep of the machines filling her ears, she let the tears fall.

It had been nearly two weeks since she'd been rescued and brought to the medical wing. She was slowly starting to hate being here, she felt fine and just wanted to go back to her apartment in the compound. It also didn’t help to have the constant reminder from the cards, gifts and visitors that the one person that she wanted to see, still hadn't entered through the door.

Once more, Y/N awoke to the soft hum and the repetitive beep from the machines. Her blurred vision took in the soft light from the lamp and the navy sky beyond the window. It must have only been a couple of hours since she fell asleep after Clint’s visit.

She heard the door opening behind her, feigning sleep to find out who her visitor was. She couldn’t be sure if it was a certain super soldier paying her a visit, but after the team visiting her earlier who else could it have been? Y/N tried to keep her breath steady, hoping her heartbeat remained normal too, otherwise the machines she was hooked up to would betray her.

Footsteps edged towards the seat beside her bed and she couldn’t have been more relieved that she was facing the other way.

“Hi sweetheart.” Bucky’s voice was almost a whisper, “Sorry I didn’t visit sooner. Sam’s a tough bodyguard. But even he must sleep at some point. Hopefully, I won't have to sneak in every night for much longer.”

Her heart skipped as his words washed over her. Every night? She scolded herself for thinking he wouldn't visit and made a mental note to reprimand her best friend for keeping him away when she was awake.

She was glad that she had feigned her sleep and prayed that he would continue talking but silence filled the room. If it wasn’t for the whirring of his Vibranium arm or the slight deep breath he took every now and then, she would have thought he’d left.

Y/N heard the muffled voice of Bucky, she’d fallen asleep again, but he was still here, the dark sky was slowly lightening, and she focused on his words as best as she could through her hazy thoughts.

“- Wanda’s been baking cookies, Vision is slowly getting the hang of using doors and Natasha is losing her mind without her drinking buddy.” Bucky scoffed, “I miss my movie nights with you Y/N. It’s only been a couple of weeks but yeah, I miss it. I miss you.”

“I shouldn’t have left you on your own. If I’d been with you like I was supposed to have been then you wouldn’t have ended up here...” Bucky leant his elbows on his knees, head in his hands and sighed.

His thoughts were consumed once more with the phone call he'd overheard, and the way Sam had protected Y/N without hesitation. The affection he had seen through the little window in the door; holding hands, forehead kisses, helping change her clothes, the laughter that filled the room.

Fuck it, I need to say something. Bucky steeled himself and sat up straighter.

“I should tell you this when you’re awake but I-”

A shuffle from the bed had Bucky’s attention, Y/N had rolled over to face him and began to rub at her right eye.

“Buck?” Her quiet yet hoarse voice melted him.

“Hi Y/N, it’s early, go back to sleep.”

“I’ve slept enough for the last two weeks to survive an early wake-up call.” Her sleepy smile beamed at him, squishing the side of her face further into the pillow.

“I guess you're right.” Bucky gave her a soft smile and ran his fingers through his short locks, “so how much of that did you hear?”

“Enough. Please don't feel guilty about what happened to me.”

“Y/N-”

She raised her hand, “Nope, it happened because I decided to leave at stupid o’clock.”

Bucky couldn't help but still feel responsible for what had happened to Y/N and now he felt worse for making her leave.

“I know you wished it was Sam on the mission.” His shoulders sagged and he sunk back into the seat. “I overheard you on the phone that night.”

He watched for Y/N’s reaction; her eyes widened, and mouth opened and closed several times but what surprised him was the way her cheeks were dusted pink.

“It’s okay, I get it. You two are really close.” Bucky stood up, collecting a brown paper bag from the floor and opening it.

Y/N’s silence made Bucky nervous, but he delved into the bag and grabbed the plums, placing them into the bowl. “I know it’s not much, but I remembered how much you liked the ones from the market.”

“Thank you, Buck.” She smiled, not taking her eyes off the fruit bowl on the table at the end of the bed.

Bucky headed towards the door and with a slight nod he left.

Y/N sighed at the sound of the door clicking shut, her eyes still focused on the plums. Of course, he visited and brought something. She was annoyed at herself for thinking he didn’t care, that she was too wrapped up in her selfishness. Bucky had occupied the table at the end of the bed with plums and fresh daisies.

It was a reminder of their trip to Bucharest, revisiting his recent past. It was only a few months ago. They had eaten delectable fruit as they weaved through the market stalls, sat in a local park and made daisy-chains for hours. Bucky had delicately weaved the flowers and created a crown, placing it atop her head. When her attempt failed, she tucked a single daisy behind his ear.

Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of Bucky’s infectious smile as they laid in the luscious grass, the sound of the city muffled by their bubble. This was the moment that she knew that her crush was something more. Her heart had ached at the way he spoke of the women he had recently dated, and she obliged him with telling her own dating stories. They were all fake, but they eased the tension in her chest.

And now he knew, he had heard her phone conversation with Sam. It explained the way he had disappeared that night, he couldn’t be near her. Her mind reeled with how he had blatantly courted a woman in front of her, brought her back to the hotel suite. He was trying to tell her that he was not interested in her, not in the way she hoped at least.

The tears cascaded down her cheeks, small sobs racked through her already sore body. Bucky could never find me attractive, let alone love me. They had their friendship and that had to be enough. She used the heel of her hand to wipe at her cheeks, vowing to not cry over him anymore.

Two Months Later…

Y/N eased back into training. It was difficult at first but slowly she got back into the rhythm of working out and after multiple therapy sessions, she was on track to returning to the field once more. She had her downfalls along the way but with the help of her friends and therapist, she picked herself back up.

A small smile rested on her lips as she stretched on the mats, ready for a sparring session with Sam. It was the highlight of her week, taking down the all-talk-no-action Falcon. Speaking of the devil, his laughter echoed across the room, catching Y/N’s attention. She glanced up to see her best friend, clinging to his sides at something he had probably said; Steve blushed, and Bucky shook his head in annoyance.

Y/N’s smile faltered slightly, seeing the super soldier had her thinking of how their friendship had changed since that night. Everything seemed like it was back to normal on the surface, but things were different, and she couldn’t avoid accepting that any longer. Sparring with Bucky was completely off the cards, he had confirmed that as soon as she was back in the gym.

‘I can’t spar with you.’ - No reason. No explanation. Nothing.

Bucky no longer joined her when she and Sam headed out of the compound to go shopping, trying new restaurants and bars. Movie nights were no longer their thing, he had brought Wanda and Nat into the fold. Not that Y/N minded the girls being there, but it was still a prick to her heart.

“Hi, erm, Y/N?” The male voice brought her out of her thoughts.

She continued wrapping her hands and gave him a slight smile, “Yes, Agent Reynolds?”

Y/N looked over the tall tanned man, the short caramel locks a mess on his head, a few strands sticking to his forehead. She had become fond of him over the last couple of weeks; not only was he an incredible recruit, he’d been a good laugh whenever they’d been in the gym at the same time. Much like earlier today when they caught up over by the water fountain before hitting their own routines.

“You can call me Marcus,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “I was just wondering if you’d like to go out for a drink sometime? Or dinner? Maybe?”

Y/N glanced over his shoulder. Eyes landing immediately on Bucky with his arm wrapped around Nat’s shoulders. Her stomach dropped and she turned back to Marcus, who patiently awaited her response. She knew it was time to move on, maybe a little bit of fun is what she needs right now.

She smirked and held out her phone. “With that uncertainty, I don’t know... How about we exchange numbers and you give me a call when you’ve decided on dinner or drinks, or both?”

Marcus’ cheeks dusted a light pink and Y/N was glad she hadn’t lost her touch. Maybe that only applied to the Super Soldier. Her charm and flirting seemed to have caught Marcus’ attention, so maybe it wasn’t her after all.

He punched in the number and called his phone, the little chime from his pocket confirming it had gone through. Handing it back to Y/N just as Sam jogged over to them.

“Are you ready to get your ass whooped, Y/N?” he chuckled, giving her a toothy grin.

Y/N tilted her head with a mischievous pout, “Oh boy, someone’s had their cocky pills today.”

Continue Here...

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dontcare77ghj · 4 years

Text

Guilt

Steve x reader x Bucky x Peggy

Your relationship with Bucky, Steve and Peggy was the worst kept secret of the war.

Everyone knew, even though you all believed them to be clueless to your love.

It was not difficult for people to find out. Many had witnessed the softer moments of your relationship. They walked in on innocent embraces, passionate kisses, and moments of weakness they only saw when the four of you were together.

Though, it was not to be said some people had not walked in on much more private, intimate, moments.

In 1945 those around Peggy, Bucky, and Steve watched the three retreat into their relationship after Y/N L/N fell from a train. Peggy herself had not been on the mission, but she had to watch her boys suffer in their grief. Bucky and Steve, unfortunately, had been on the operation, and they blamed themselves for Y/N plummeting from the train.

It was less than two months later when Steve and Bucky crashed the Valkyrie into the ocean.

Peggy threw herself into her work. She was a strong woman. Peggy refused to allow herself to give in to her grief.

It was not even a month later before Howard approached Peggy with a proposition. He offered to inject Peggy with the same serum he'd used on Bucky and Steve.

Peggy said yes, not giving it a second thought.

It turns out being injected with the serum came with consequences. It was 2012, and Peggy had not aged since 1945.

There were many positives to Peggy's immortality. Peggy had helped build S.H.I.E.LD. up and had become godmother to Howard and Maria's son.

Peggy had also been alive when Howard and Maria were murdered, leaving her godson orphaned.

In 2012 Peggy felt the wear of being alive for so long begin to take its toll. She was in charge of SHIELD and trying to ensure her godson did not do anything too stupid.

She had been alone for so long, never having anyone to truly confide in as she had with her three lovers.

Until 2012. When Peggy learned that they found Steve and Bucky. And not their corpses, but their living, breathing, bodies. She had two out of her three lovers back.

The three were happy. Steve, Bucky, and Peggy been reunited after so many years, given a second chance, but they were still mourning for the loss of Y/N. Peggy had years to mourn the deaths of all her lovers, yet she never moved on. Steve and Bucky had been frozen only two months into their grieving process.

In 2014, it was suddenly revealed to the public, as well as the three, Y/N L/N was not dead. And had never been.

It had been a torturous process, finding Y/N and breaking her out of her brainwashing. It felt like years since they started the process of helping her regain her memories and who she once was.

There were many days that it almost hurt too much to watch Y/N suffer as they attempted to help her. But, knowing she was suffering worse than they were was enough for them to stay. To help Y/N become who she really was.

And they did. The four did it together because that's all these individuals really had. The four had each other. The four were finally openly together, and everything seemed perfect. Everything was perfect except for the guilt they all carried.

Steve felt the most out of the four of you. When he was smaller, during the war and after, he felt more. He felt more strongly than all of you.

When you had fallen off the train, Steve took the blame. Though Bucky had been on the train with you both, Steve was the one to lose grip on your hand. He was the one who was not able to pull you back up, he was the one who failed to save you.

And not just from death. He was unable to save you from the trauma you were forced to live through for seven decades.

You knew how Steve felt. You loved him too much to not notice he was drowning in his guilt every time he looked at you.

And you were not the only one to notice. Bucky had, so had Peggy.

It had been a year since you fought your way out of your head and HYDRA's brainwashing, you felt you were stronger for it, but Steve still treated you as if you were a porcelain doll.

"Here, doll," Steve said, handing you a cup of tea.

"What's this for?" You smiled, kissing his cheek in thanks.

"Just 'cos." He shrugged. "Do you need me to do anything for you?" He asked you, taking a seat next to you on the bed.

"No, Stevie. I'm fine." You smiled, curling into his side.

"Are you sure? You don't want me to grab you anything? Make something to eat?"

"Steve, I'm not an invalid." You said, pointedly. Your mechanic arm had malfunctioned last week, and as a result, you'd had to send it back to Shuri for repairs. She wasn't sure why it acted out as it did, she wanted to be sure nothing would happen again.

So, for the foreseeable future, you would be working with one arm. You were managing very well and living life as you usually would, but Steve had been especially attentive. Especially suffocating.

You and Steve were watching a movie while Peg and Bucky were out for the day. It was when you moved to place your cup on the bedside you let out a hiss.

"Y/N? Are you okay, doll?" Steve questioned you rapidly.

"I'm okay, Steve." You assured him, rubbing your shoulder. "My shoulder is just really sore." You said, groaning as you moved wrongly.

"Take your shirt off," Steve told you, shifting on the bed. Not saying a word you did as he asked, well demanded, and pulled your shirt off. Steve gently pushed you onto your front and straddled your lower back.

Steve gently began to massage the area, causing you to let out a breathy sigh.

"I'm sorry." Steve breathed after several minutes. "I'm so sorry."

"What for, Stevie?" You questioned him, quite confused.

"I'm the reason you fell. If I had just held on, you wouldn't have been tortured for all those years. You would still have both your arms." He said, hands stilling as he spoke.

"Steve, I don't blame you for any of that." You told him, crawling out from under him.

"You should," Steve muttered, not meeting your eyes.

"I don't." You said firmly. "The train was not your fault. I fell, anyone could have. And you can't blame yourself for anything HYDRA did to me."

"But I could have saved you," Steve said, looking at you sadly.

"It's not your job." You assured him. "And I don't want you torturing yourself over things you couldn't control. You're not allowed to feel guilty for this. I won't let you."

"I don't think you can just tell me what to feel." Steve managed a laugh.

"Watch me." You smiled, taking his hand. "Steve, I'm fine. I'm okay, and I'm going to be okay for a long time. Okay?"

"Okay." He finally smiled.

Non-reader POV

Peggy did not feel as much as Steve did. Steve felt every emotion and let them take control of his entire being. But Peggy rarely allowed her feelings to take control of herself. Especially the negative ones.

During the seventy years Peggy had been alone, Peggy had spent her time building SHIELD up into the organization it was today. Peggy had focused her grief into attempting to destroy HYDRA. It was because of HYDRA she had lost the three people she loved.

After finding out the three of you were still alive, Peggy backed away from SHIELD to watch over the three of you. She entrusted SHIELD into Fury and his team's hands.

And then SHIELD fell. It fell into HYDRA's disgusting hands.

Everything Peggy had worked for, for seventy years, had all been for naught. With the fall of SHIELD, any real SHIELD agents had to run. Identities were changed, safe houses were at maximum capacity, and lives were broken.

Peggy, Steve, Y/N, and Bucky had all had to run. HYDRA was coming, and Peggy refused to allow them to touch anything else she held dear. Again.

The four had a home of their own that could not be traced back to any of them. They had kept the place clean, furnished, stocked with enough food, and drink to survive the end of the world, but they rarely had time to stay.

It had been a week since the four had arrived at their home. Peggy had enjoyed their slip into domesticity, they all had, but she was still punishing herself.

"Who's winning?" Bucky asked, appearing behind Peggy. Peggy was standing at the window watching as Steve, and Y/N playfully spared in the fro\nt yard.

"Neither. Y/N's pulling her punches, and Steve's trying to let Y/N win." Peggy hummed as Bucky wrapped his arms around her waist.

"What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?" Bucky questioned Peggy, punctuating the question with a kiss to her temple. "What are you thinking about?"

"SHIELD." Peggy sighed, not willing to lie to the man.

"Doll." Bucky sighed.

"I know, I know, I shouldn't make myself sick over this, but I can't help it," Peggy said, leaning back in his hold.

"Peg, what happened to SHIELD was not your fault," Bucky told her. "SHIELD was my responsibility. For seventy years, I was in charge, I leave for a couple years, and the whole thing falls apart. If I had been around, I could have prevented everything." Peggy argued.

"Peg, I don't know if you want to hear this, but SHIELD's been rotting for a long time. You couldn't notice because HYDRA are sneaky bastards, and it's their job." Bucky reasoned with the woman.

"I should have known," Peggy complained. "I dedicated seventy years to SHIELD, how did I not see it was crumbling right under my feet?"

"Because HYDRA is good at that," Bucky told her. "We know better than anyone what they're capable of. We know what they do, and we know how good they are at it."

"I keep thinking if maybe I hadn't backed so far off, if maybe I had kept an eye on SHIELD, I could have seen what was coming and stopped it."

"So, you're saying if you could go back to when you made the decision to back away, you'd stay?" Bucky asked her.

"No. No, I wouldn't be able to do that." Peggy shook her head. "I love you three too much to distance myself from you."

"You can't go back, Peg. What's happened has happened. The only way to go now is forward."

"Maybe you should start writing Steve's speeches." Peggy giggled, causing the man to also laugh.

"Better?" Bucky asked her.

"Much." Peggy smiled, leaning up to kiss the man. "Let's bring those two in." She suggested.

Bucky had a firm grip on his emotions. Always had. Back in the forties, Buck was the one always looking after everyone. He took care of Steve, who was forever sick, made Peggy take a day off every now and then, and he would always be the one to comfort Y/N after dealing with her mother.

Bucky was a caretaker. He didn't focus on his own emotions as much as he did with those around them.

"New phones for all." Tony declared, passing out a box filled with new Stark phones.

"Very nice, Stark." Y/N commented, taking one of the phones and passing the box down.

"I aim to please." Tony smiled, making himself a drink. "It's top of the line, not available to the public, and only for this team. It's got all the best features, and even better, it's got a holographic projector."

"Why do you need a projector?" Bucky asked, fiddling with the phone.

"No-one needs a projector. It's just a perk." Tony shrugged.

Hours later, Bucky was seated in the bedroom the four of you shared when staying at the tower. He was sat on the bed, staring at Stark's new phone.

The once glimmering, brand new item now had several deep cracks, and he couldn't get it to turn on anymore.

Bucky attempted to press the button one more time, and when it didn't turn on again, he threw the phone at a wall just as Steve entered.

"Buck! It's just me!" Steve yelped, jumping away from the shattered phone.

"Shit. I'm sorry, I didn't see you coming in." Bucky sighed, resting his head in his hands.

"Buck, you just got this a couple hours ago," Steve said, examining the remains of the phone.

"Yeah, and it was fucking broken or something." The brunette grumbled.

"Did you tell Tony?" Steve asked, picking up the pieces and putting them on the bedside.

"No, I didn't. The phone was broken when I got it, I swear." Bucky said, looking up. "It's okay, I'll just use my old one. I know how to use that one, at least."

"Tony's phone isn't that hard to use. He had to show me how to use the projector feature, but it's pretty simple to use otherwise." Steve shrugged

"Of course, it's fucking simple for you." Bucky snapped. "Everything's always so simple for you and everyone around me."

"Buck, I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I'm sorry." Steve said, going to leave the room.

"Wait, no, Steve, I'm so sorry." Bucky apologized, jumping to his feet. "I didn't mean that. I didn't mean to say that."

"Want to tell me where that came from?" Steve questioned him, turning around and folding his arms across his chest. "How long have you been bottling that up?"

"Too long." Bucky sighed, sitting back on the bed.

"What's going on, Buck? None of us have seen you in hours, and you've been in a mood since Tony gave you the phone." Steve said, taking a seat next to the man.

"I can't catch up. You and Y/N and Peg, you're all catching up so quickly. I get Peg, she was able to evolve with it. Hell, I even understand how Y/N can keep up. But I just get so jealous when I can't keep up, and you can." Bucky admitted, cheeks burning red as he refused to look at him. "I feel like I'm still stuck in the forties, Steve."

"Oh, Buck." Steve cooed, shifting closer to the man and grasping his hand tightly.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I'm sorry I'm acting like this." Bucky apologized. "I shouldn't be jealous that everyone's acclimating, but I am, and I hate it."

"Buck, it's nothing to be ashamed about. We lost seventy years of our lives, and we never spoke to anyone. We never addressed it. You're allowed to be slow with modern advances, and it's nothing for you to feel bad about." Steve soothed, pushing hair from Bucky's face.

"Are you sure?" Bucky asked meekly.

"Positive." Steve smiled. "And I promise I'm going to help you. It'll be discreet, and no one will have to know if that's what you want."

"I'd like that Stevie." Bucky leaned over to kiss the man. "Thank you."

"Of course, James." Steve smiled. "But there is one thing you're going to have to do on your own."

"What's that?"

"You're going to have to tell Tony you broke your phone."

Reader POV

In the forties, you had been the most carefree. Never really caring what anyone said, apart from the comments your mother spewed, you didn't care what people thought.

You wore pants before it was accepted, proudly held hands with any of your partners, and you gladly got into fistfights in alleys with Steve.

You never felt bad when people would complain about how unladylike you were. You would never feel guilty when your mother would cry about how you would never give her grandchildren because you weren't going to attract any men if you wore pants.

You liked who you were, and each of your partners enjoyed how carefree you were.

After breaking free from your mind control, this was no longer the case. You weren't as carefree as you once were. Emotions ruled you, especially guilt.

Guilt over everything you'd ever been forced to do while under HYDRA's control.

Therapy had been a help. The therapist Tony recommended had helped you see it wasn't your fault what had happened. The therapy had brought back some of your carefreeness, and you were starting to remember who you used to be.

You had been warned from the beginning that it wouldn’t just be good days. There would always be bad days, it was just the therapists hope that they would soon lessen.

She was right, they did lessen. The time periods between the bad days grew and could be months apart from each other, but they still came back.

Today was a bad day.

As soon as you awoke, you knew it wasn’t going to be easy today. Everything felt heavy. Everything hurt. Even though it was a warm summer day, you found yourself donning a long sleeve shirt and usual glove.

You couldn’t stand the sight of your arm that day.

“Darling, you’re going to give yourself heatstroke. At least take the gloves off.” Peggy said.

“No, it’s okay. I’m not that hot.” You denied, pulling your sleeves further down as you grabbed a Coke.

“Darling you’re sweating.” Peggy pointed out. “Y/N, do we need to call Yasmin? Do you need another session?”

“No. I don’t need another session.” You said quickly. “I’m fine, Peg.”

“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to lie about the bad days, Y/N.” Peggy said, moving behind you. “We’re here to help you.”

“Well you shouldn't be.” You snapped, spinning around. “You’re all wasting your time on me when you could all be doing better things.”

“Y/N, darling, that’s simply not true.” Peggy said, moving closer. “We’re not wasting time on you. We love you.”

“You love a murderer. A disgrace of a human being.” You scoffed, eyes stinging as you looked away.

“You did not kill anyone. HYDRA is responsible for those deaths, not you.” Peggy forcefully told you. “Y/N, we are not wasting time. We love you. We have loved you for seventy years and no matter what has happened to you, we are not running. We’re in this ‘til the end of the line.” Peggy said, stepping forward and grabbing your hands in hers.

“I’ve killed people, Peggy.” You whimpered. “I’ve killed a lot of people.”

“It wasn’t you, darling.” Peggy shushed you, squeezing your flesh hand as she took off the glove on your metal hand. “And we’re not scared of you. You don’t need to carry all this on your own anymore.”

Peggy took another step forward and pulled you into her arms. As her arms wrapped around your body, your knees gave out and you had to hold onto the Brit for strength.

“Do you want me to call Yasmin?” She asked you again.

“No.” You shook your head. “I just want you and our boys.”

“Okay.” Peggy whispered, pressing a kiss to your crown. “How about you head back to bed, think about changing, and I’ll get them from the training room?”

“Okay.” You nodded. “I love you, Peg.” You murmured, quickly kissing her cheek before walking back to the bedroom.

Guilt was an easy emotion. Everyone felt it, but not everyone got over it. It was a good thing the four of you had each other.

The four of you were the worst kept secret of the war, Avengers, family and each others. And only one of those titles really mattered.

Taglist

@rvgrsbrns @smilexcaptainx @hopingforbarnes @starlingelliot @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @jelly-fishy-babie @skeletoresinthebasement @agent-barnes40 @reann-loves-sebstan @skadikh @summergeezburr

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metalbvcky · 4 years

Text

*Shows up late to the Stucky/Marvel fandom Post-EG with Starbucks and dozens of fics that I’ve read in hand* So you guys like fanfiction?

Yeah so, because of quarantine I’ve been consuming a ton of fic. I’ve probably read over 1.5 million words in just a couple months. So why not share what I’ve been reading! Note that some of these are older (popular) fics so veteran Stucky peeps will probably know of them since I not too recently delved into the realm that is Stucky fanfic. :)

Down below are over a dozen fics with different tropes, Canon/AU’s, and what not. Please do heed the tags on some of these. For the curious: My AO3 bookmarks.

Also shoutout to @stuckylibrary, the mods over there are doing the lords work.

Key: ♥ = My fave, S = Smut, DS = Dom/Sub

Heroes are Easy, People are Hard ♥ by Halbereth, Lorien - Words: 152,284 | CW Fix It, Slight Canon Divergence, Recovery, Slow Burn

Shuri and Wanda cleared Bucky's triggers shortly after Killmonger's attempted coup, and he and Steve went on the run. But it turns out there's more to "fixing Bucky's head" than "getting Hydra out of it." When a group of rogue scientists manage to neutralize the serum and make Steve very sick--pre-serum "this is bad" kind of sick--and they're cut off from contact with Wakanda, Bucky knows only one person with resources to help. He calls Tony and surrenders on the condition that Tony tries to help Steve.

From there, it's basically three variously messed-up guys’ trajectories from "This Is Fine", "Reasonably Speaking I Know It’s Fine", "I Will Be Fine With It" to actually being fine, guest-starring a far-better-adjusted teenage boy who climbs walls, a 1957 Ford Thunderbird, two women with a keen sense of the absurd, and Bruce, the Zen master of “it’s fine that it’s not fine.” Add in the fact that Bucky's been secretly in love with Steve since the thirties and things only get harder. Learning to be a person is the hardest thing Bucky Barnes will ever have to do--but he's got company along the way.

Reap The Whirlwind by Cristinuke - Words: 18,221 | Canon Universe, Post CW, Domestic

Bucky finds a cat. Or rather, a cat finds him.

Your Favorite Ghost by augustbird - Words: 21,013 | Canon Divergence, Post TWS

It's harder than Steve ever expected to bring Bucky home.

Despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained) ♥ by praximeter (Zimario) - Words: 71,532 | Canon Divergence TWS, Body Modifications

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.

Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—

“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”

Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

This city bleeds its aching heart ♥ by Renne - Words: 34,537 | Canon Universe, Fake/Pretend Relationship

The one where Steve and Bucky pose as a happily married couple while on a mission for SHIELD, to catch an international arms dealer hiding in a suburban neighbourhood.

The Best Way to Wake ♥ by LeeHan - Words: 42,293 | Post TFA, Canon Divergence TWS, Recovery

James Buchanan Barnes lay in a glass pod in the middle of the table, frozen since he fell. Steve’s hands were on the glass before he realized he’d moved. “Wait, Captain!” “Get him out,” Steve whispered, his hands searching for a clasp, a keypad, something. “Captain, we need to keep him in stasis—“ “I said get him out!”

Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail ♥ series by owlet - Words: 264,438 | Canon Divergence (sort of)

The mission resets abruptly, from objective: kill to objective: protect

Undersell, overcommit by silentwalrus - Words: 10,222 | Canon Universe

Steve goes so hard for Bucky that he becomes a licensed, practicing massage therapist.

Sparked Up Like a Book of Matches by Sena - Words: 26,734 | Post-TWS, Canon Universe

Steve lives in Stark Tower and doesn't have much to do when he's not going after Hydra strongholds. He attends charity events to make Pepper happy. He goes hiking with Sam. He hangs out with Clint in Bed-Stuy and watches Dog Cops. Sometimes Tony gives him super alcohol in a sippy cup. Sometimes he sees Bucky out of the corner of his eye and wonders if it's real or if he's starting to lose his mind.

Alternately, the one with terrible jokes, a foot chase through the Lower East Side, and a tiny little robot named Shitcan.

Sugar Sweet ♥ from the Red Velvet series by ColorCoated - Words: 173,400 | Modern/Sugar Daddy AU, Age Difference, Slow Burn

"What's your name?" It wasn't even a line. He was just pretty and Bucky wanted a name to go with that face. With that strong jawline. With those deep blue eyes. A little smirk, "Steve."

Awww, Steve. He looked like a Steve. Bucky pursed his lips in a way he hoped was attractive, "You should buy me a drink."

College Student Bucky finds himself immediately attracted to Steve. He knows that Steve's a bit older than him, and that Steve himself is put off by the age difference. . . But that doesn't stop Bucky from wanting to climb him like a tree.

Steve and Bucky Go Away for the Weekend (and cook a lot) ♥ by E_Greer - Words: 30,126 | Canon Universe, Domestic

In which Steve coaxes Bucky out of the Tower for a birthday weekend away and sweet, fluffy domesticity ensues. Phlintasha helps keep Bucky calm, Steve has Opinions about how you set the table, stories are told, greenhouses are toured, baths are had, books are read, tears are shed, stars are gazed upon, and everyone makes Bucky feel loved. Includes Friday night dinner, Saturday morning breakfast, Saturday lunch, Saturday dinner, and Sunday brunch.

Dona Nobis Pacem by thegraytigress - Words: 65,214 | Canon Universe, Recovery

"This job... We try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes it doesn't mean everybody, but if we can't find a way to live with that... Next time maybe nobody gets saved."

An incident on the battlefield exposes how much Steve's falling apart under the crushing weight of leading the Avengers after Sokovia. Now Bucky's adopting a new mission: save Steve before he destroys himself completely, even if it means the end of Captain America.

Give 'Em Hope ♥ by L1av - Words: 130,022 | Modern/Hospital AU, UA/Age Difference

Dr. Steve Rogers likes to think that if his patients have hope- their chances of survival will increase. Bucky Barnes has a 20% chance of survival and a desperate yearning to experience life. Against Steve's better judgment, he develops a relationship with his patient. It's illegal. It's wrong. But it's giving Bucky the hope to keep going, so Steve's going to keep giving it, because he wants Bucky to survive. He needs him to.

You belong (to me) by hermionesmydawg - Words: 29,759 | S, DS, Canon Compliant, Post CW

"Hold on." Bucky lifted a finger and backed out of the doorway, returning a moment later with his cell phone. He snapped a photo of Steve, typed a few words, and then returned to his apple. "What the hell were you doing at a sex club last night?"

"Not having sex, if that's what you're wondering." An alert sounded from Steve's nightstand - a new Snapchat message. He rolled his eyes and unlocked his phone. Sam was always sending stupid Snapchats and frankly, Steve couldn't figure that goddamn app out and cursed whoever created that piece of shit.

The chat wasn't from Sam this time, however. It was a picture of himself, not looking guilty at all, with the caption "when your buddy catches you looking at p*rn."

Circling Back from the It’s Not Linear series by chaya - Words: 59,642 (Series Total: 136,782) | Canon Divergence

Steve looks for Bucky, Bucky finds Steve, Steve tries desperately to put Bucky back together. Bucky tries desperately to let him.

Continuing Education by 743ish, romanticalgirl - Words: 14,443 | S, Canon Universe/College, Shrunkyclunks

Steve is invited to be a guest lecturer on the WWII unit for Bucky's college course. Bucky's more than happy to glean any extra knowledge (in more than just history) from Steve, and Steve's happy to eductate him. But then Bucky has to decide if he can handle the fact that Steve throws himself into danger, and if the sex is worth it. Or if it's not just sex anymore.

Salt & Sugar by GoldBlooded, stfustucky - Words: 19,598 | Modern/Restaurant AU

Steve Rogers is a bigshot celebrity chef in New York City, and Bucky Barnes is a classically trained pastry chef in Moscow.

When billionaire and mutual friend Natasha Romanoff calls on them to collaborate for her Memorial Day Benefit Gala, they both brace themselves to spend the week working with some jerk they're bound to hate. Except... Steve makes a burger that could bring Bucky to tears, and Bucky makes tartlets so beautiful Steve's sure they qualify as art. Maybe, just maybe, together they could make this a night to remember.

@/sgtbarnes1917 and @/cptrogers1918 by BayleyWinchester - Words: 114,203 | Canon Universe, Social Media Fic

Bucky Barnes broke Twitter with one photo

Proprietary Information ♥ from the Additional Information series by notlucy - Words: 85,141 (Series Total: 165,871) | Modern AU, Age difference, Slow Burn

Okay, so Bucky Barnes has a crush on Steve Rogers. The guy's gorgeous, talented and, oh yeah, the Chief Design Officer of the biggest tech company in the world. In other words: he's so far out of Bucky's league that he might as well be in a different stratosphere.

Deep in the Woods (Where My Heart Has Been Waiting) by SilverMyfanwy - Words: 15,353 | Pioneer-AU, Shrinkyclinks

Steve Rogers gets lost in the woods in a snowstorm. Bucky Barnes takes him in. Pioneer-era AU ish with Shrinkyclinks, evil chickens and a cabin in the woods.

A Bucky Odyssey by inediblesushi, thorstbench - Words: 9,952 | Shrinkyclinks, Cap!Bucky, Nurse!Steve

Bucky Barnes, Captain America, has a plan to make Steve Rogers, SHIELD nurse, fall in love with him. Confiding in the Internet might not be the best idea, though. So when the bad pick up lines do not work and Steve looks determined to staying single, he decides to be more himself and less what he thinks he should be.

At first I wanted to wait to post this until I finished a few more fics from my ever growing read-later list but what the heck, now or never! I’ll probably end up making a part 2 reclist by the amount of fic I’m reading these days.

Happy reading and stay safe out there fellow Stucky trash members!!

#stucky #stucky fanfic #stucky fic rec #stucky fanfic rec #stucky fic #stucky fanfiction #stucky au #marvel fanfic #steve x bucky #my reclist #long post for ts #wow this is over a million words worth of fic + that doesnt include everything else ive read omg #the amount of talent in the destiel and stucky fandoms are insanely incredible #a total of 21 fics and at least 5 are apart of a series ... thats a lot of words

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ijustwant2write · 4 years

Text

‘You’re not as strong as him!’-Sam Wilson x Reader

(GIF credit to @spideyjlaw)

Summary: After Sam receives Steve’s shield (alongside the huge responsibility of being the new Captain America), (Y/N) can’t help but worry over her friend. He and Steve were not the same person, but the weight of it all comes crashing down on both of them.

Characters: Sam Wilson x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mention of death, violence, angst, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Y/N) stood outside of the Stark’s home, arms folded over one another as she watched the interaction going on ahead of her. After all the things she had seen, all the things she had been through, it was amazing that something could still shock her this much. She had been sneakily watching as Steve took back the infinity stones, only to cause panic when he didn’t return as expected; only she saw what Bucky was gazing at, an old man sat on a bench in the distance, shield propped up beside him. It had been a bizarre picture, her eyes almost popping out of their sockets when she saw Steve hand Sam the shield.

Everyone was inside now, all except Sam. Sat at the same bench as Steve, looking down at the shield beside him, he hadn’t come back for over an hour. (Y/N) didn’t want to ask questions about him, Sam wouldn’t want all the attention. Instead, (Y/N) slipped outside, wrapping her arms around her torso from the chill in the air as she walked towards him. Sam glanced behind him when he heard someone approaching, relaxing as (Y/N) smiled at him. He smiled back, though it was obvious how fake it was.

“You OK?” (Y/N) breathed out as she sat down.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded his head, eyes not leaving the shield before them.

“Just when you thought you had seen it all.”

He chuckled at that.“Can’t say I was expecting this. I took it but...when I held it, I could feel the weight of his legacy in my hands.”

“You’re Sam Wilson, the Falcon. You’re not Steve Rogers.”

“I know. Which makes it all the more stressful.”

(Y/N) wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders, squeezing it gently.“I’m right here, always. You know that, right?”

He looked down at her, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her closer.“I know. And I’m grateful for that.”

Things had been strange since Tony’s funeral. Of course, everyone was in mourning, nothing would be exactly the same after what happened. And after such a huge battle against Thanos and his army, how could anyone be at peace that soon? Those who survived mostly focused on training, it was the only thing that could distract themselves from their thoughts or release their anger. Some chose to socialise, needing people around to remind themselves that they had won, and the nightmares plaguing their sleep were all fake; others stayed locked up in their rooms, not able to strike up a conversation as easily as they used to, worried that the topic would soon move onto how they were feeling about everything that happened. No one wanted to relive that.

“Morning Bucky.” (Y/N) lightly greeted the man who was looking out of the window.

He only hummed in response, clearly focused on something.

“What are you looking at?” (Y/N) quietly asked, not wanting to disturb him.

“Sam’s been out there for a while, with the shield.”

(Y/N) stood beside him, following his gaze to their friend. Sam’s eyes were burning into the shield which he was holding once again, moving it around as the sun reflected off of it. Slowly, he slipped his arm through it, standing as Steve once did. (Y/N) flinched as he drew his arm back, quickly throwing it before it got wedged in a tree trunk. Sam was staring at it, as were Bucky and (Y/N).

“Why are you so tense?” Bucky broke the silence.

“I’m worried.” she mumbled, still looking at Sam.

“Steve wouldn’t hand it over if he didn’t think Sam was right for it.”

“I know. But he’s not Steve.”

“(Y/N), the battle is over, maybe forever, maybe for a few days. You’re one of the stronger ones here, you know how to keep everyone else in high spirits, or keep them stable in times like this. But you’re not looking after yourself.”

“I’m fine Bucky. I’m not the one who has Captain America’s shield.”

He began to walk away.“And I’m not the one hiding my feelings, despite losing someone I love multiple times.”

There was no spite in his voice. It was soft, as if nudging (Y/N) to think about herself, think about what she truly wanted. This line of work meant putting the world first, all those lives before your own; but after saving them all those times, part of her wondered if it was finally (Y/N)’s turn to find her own happiness. If the man she wanted would have her that is. Taking a very deep breath, (Y/N) glanced once more at Sam who was fetching the shield before making her way down to him. There were many emotions swirling around in her head and gut, trying to think of something to start the conversation. As she stepped outside, Sam was making his way towards the building, smiling when he saw her.

“If you’re here to see the show, I’m afraid it’s already over.” He said, gesturing to the shield.

“I saw you throw it, made quite a dent in the tree.”

Sam looked back at it.“Uh, yeah. Best not tell anyone about that.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“What you doing out here anyway?”

A strain of profanities were screaming in (Y/N)’s mind, panicking over what to say.“Just...came to see you.”

“What’s wrong? You seem a little...off.”

“Sam I...I’m worried about you. The shield, it’s the only thing on your mind.”

He chuckled out of nerves.“I mean, it sort of has to be.”

“Don’t you think after all that’s happened, you should take a break first?”

“Shouldn’t everyone?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“(Y/N), what is this really about?”

She huffed, pushing aside her feelings to tell him the truth.“I’m worried because you’re not Steve. You’re Sam. You weren’t injected with super solider serum that gives you incredible strength, or helps you recover much faster than an average human. I just don’t want you to think now that you have the shield, you’re suddenly invincible.”

Sam’s mouth hung open, scoffing at her.“What are you trying to say? That I’m not good enough for the shield?”

“It’s not a matter of if you’re good enough-”

“So I’m not then?”

“What? Yes, of course you are!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

He brushed past her, causing (Y/N) to sigh as she ran after him.

“Sam, I’m saying this as your friend.”

“A friend would support me.”

“And a friend would look out for you!”

They were both facing each other, intensely glaring into the other’s eyes. (Y/N) could have screamed at him, finally confessing her true feelings for the man she had fought beside all these years; but the courage she was used to wasn’t there anymore.

“Forget it.” she shakily breathed out, scurrying away before Sam could say anything else.

It was extremely frustrating for (Y/N) to not be able to express herself when it came to the sensitive topic of love. Being a S.H.I.E.L.D agent had restricted her from doing that. The only people you ever interacted with were the ones you worked with. And it was rare to see any type of romance happening, even secretly between colleagues.

(Y/N) found herself in the gym, not using any of the equipment but pacing up and down the mats, stuck with her thoughts. She had considered using the punching bag to relieve stress, though couldn’t muster up enough strength. Her body felt exhausted. Giving up, she slumped down onto the floor, bringing her knees in to her chest. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't she say the right thing to Sam to make him see what she was thinking? What she was feeling? It had all come out wrong.

"Hey."

A voice made her head lift up, seeing Sam standing in the doorway.

"Hi." she replied, scared as to where the conversation would be about.

Sam slowly approached her."I'm sorry about earlier. We shouldn't have argued like that."

"I just wish you would listen to me." she mumbled as he sat beside her.

"I am listening."

"I..." (Y/N) found it hard to look at him."I'm not good with this Sam."

"What are you talking about? You're just talking to me."

"Exactly!" she huffed, moving to sit on top of her knees.

"(Y/N), what's going on?" Sam was more assertive, reaching out to put his hand over hers, surprised when she snatched it away.

"What I was saying earlier, about me being concerned for you, I didn't get to explain myself properly."

"I understand-"

"You don't though Sam! I've seen you injured, laying beside Steve in a hospital bed. And who was released days, maybe even over a week before the other?"

"I'm not trying to be like Steve."

"What about the pressure of everyone else's opinions? I can see it happening. You become comfortable with it, you're doing an amazing job, then one person says something and it knocks you down. You're going to try and take on much more than you actually can, and you'll get hurt, and I'll see you in worse shape than I've seen you before. I can't see you like that Sam."

Although she was ranting, it wasn't full of hysteria. Sam had kept up with everything she said, but was still confused.

"Slow down. (Y/N), I'm not going to let it get to me."

(Y/N) sighed, standing up and turning away as she felt her eyes tear up. Why wasn't it getting through to him?

"Sam I...I'm trying my hardest to tell you this-"

Sam jumped to his feet, circling (Y/N) to be in front of her. He grew sad when he saw the tears falling down her cheeks, realising how much this was upsetting her.

"Hey, just breathe OK? It's just you and me." Sam gently held her shoulders, breathing in sync with her.

"Sam," (Y/N) finally said after she calmed herself,"we've been through a lot, with everyone I know, but whenever there's been a fight, you're the only person on my mind. After Thanos, after you disappeared in front of me, I thought I would never see you again. And every day after that, I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"You were the first person I wanted to see when we came back." Sam confidently said.

"I was?"

"Of course! But what with everything that happened after, I didn't want to just bombard you with these feelings I've hidden from you. That mixed with...well,im just going to say it, the lives we lost wouldn't work."

"I understand. I've wanted to tell you for so long. But I've never done anything like this before."

"We're here, we're together. We've been through a battle like no other. And looking at you now, I can't risk losing you without you knowing how I feel for you."

Feeling that she could say anything more, (Y/N) placed her hand on the back of Sam's neck, pulling him down to meet her lips. Sam's hands slowly moved from her shoulders to wrap around her waist, holding her tighter. Fights put things into perspective, especially a battle as intense as that. (Y/N) found that body language worked better for her, and if that meant kissing Sam all the time to show her feelings, she wouldn't be complaining.

#Sam wilson #sam wilson imagine #Sam Wilson imagine #sam wilson imagines #Sam Wilson one shot #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel one shot #marvel x reader #marvel fanfic #marvel fan fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fan fiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot

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sunlightdances · 4 years

Text

Through Lines (40′s!Bucky x Reader)

Pairing: 40s!Bucky x Nurse!Reader Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for war-typical violence and descriptions of PTSD. Summary: WW2 canon-divergent AU - Bucky lives. One of the things Bucky thinks about when he’s trapped in a foxhole and trying to stay alive is the pretty nurse from the Red Cross. Author’s Note: I re-watched Band of Brothers recently, so this popped into my head. Please excuse any inaccuracies/suspend your belief briefly - I did my best with a bit of research, but obviously some of this is OOC/not canon. I don’t own Bucky or Marvel (or the character cameo who is clearly from HBO War). Please don’t re-post anywhere without my permission!

You meet James Barnes for the first time while you’re packing a Red Cross truck in England, hair neatly curled and pinned, lips painted a fiery shade of red.

It’s easy, then, for you to flash him a smile as he removes his garrison cap, tucking it neatly into his waistband as he approaches you.

“Ma’am,” he greets, and even though you think he’s about the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, you still bristle a bit.

“It’s Lieutenant.” You say, returning to your work. You know he likely didn’t mean anything by it, but ever since you shipped out, you’ve found yourself defending your rank and training more than once.

He clears his throat. “Lieutenant,” he corrects himself, and even salutes you. It surprises you. You return his gesture. “Just wanted to see if you needed a hand.”

You falter, and smile gently at him. “I’m sorry for snapping. It’s been a long day.”

“Moving out tomorrow?”

You nod. “To France, to one of the field hospitals.” You can see the concern in his eyes, and it makes you roll yours. “We’re trained just as you are, Sergeant. The men need help.”

He puts his hands in his pockets. “They’ll be happy to see you, no doubt.” He rocks on his feet. You realize how young he is, how young you both are.

The next time the two of you see each other, it’s nowhere near as formal, or casual.

The sunshine of that day in England is a distant memory compared to this. It’s raining and the sound of shelling not far off has you gritting your teeth.

The flap of the tent flies open with a rush of noise — a familiar voice and steel blue eyes that you both hoped you’d see again, and prayed you never would. He’s with a medic, a stretcher between them.

“Here—“ you say before he even opens his mouth. “Put him here.”

The medic is rattling off information - shrapnel to the stomach and leg, given morphine.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you bark, snapping him out of his daze. “If you’re not going to help, then you need to get out of the way.”

He moves so you can get to work, but stays close, and you notice with a jolt when he takes the hand of the man you’re working on, squeezing gently.

He doesn’t make it.

You’re so frustrated you can barely speak. Every time you lose someone, it’s a burning ache that settles deep in your heart. No matter how bad off they are when they come to the hospital, you feel the guilt of not being able to do your job.

“You did everything you could.” He says next to you, outside the tent, cigarette dangling from his lips.

You don’t reply. There’s nothing to say. You won’t cry - you can’t allow yourself to cry. If you break down now, you might never get your composure back.

The shelling begins again, and a jeep pulls up nearby, someone shouting for Sergeant Barnes. You try not to notice the way his hand starts to shake as he pulls the cigarette from his mouth, throwing it to the ground and stamping it out before he goes.

“Take care of yourself,” he murmurs, and then with a weak salute, he’s gone.

Bucky Barnes is a romantic at heart. He pictured seeing you again back at some pub in England on leave, in his dress uniform, you in a red dress. When he was at his darkest point, he pictured it, and that’s why it’s so unfair that he’s seeing you again now, like this.

It’s been six months. France, and then Belgium, and then Italy, and whatever hell came after that. He’s grateful he doesn’t remember the entire thing. Azzano was like nothing he ever thought could happen to him - something from a science fiction novel.

His unit is completely gone. Every one of the men he trained with, fought with, shared a foxhole with… they’re all gone.

Steve is here now, something that should make him relieved, but all it does is add to his never-ending bad mood. His best friend, his brother, literally charging into harm’s way every chance he gets. Except now it’s not just back alley fist fights. There are bullets and fire and mortars, and Bucky doesn’t know how much more of this he can take.

It’s bad enough that they’re hot on Hydra’s trail - a shiver ripples up his spine every time he sees the insignia - but the original Nazis are still everywhere. The German army is tough, and everywhere he goes it’s pure destruction.

They’ve been called in to support another Division, and Bucky is relieved for the tasks of a new squad to take his mind off everything. Being a platoon sergeant comes natural to him, and he looks after the replacements like he did his last group. It gives him something to keep busy.

Until they get to the Ardennes.

It’s hell on earth. The trees are sawed in half by shelling every night, the shrapnel alone enough to kill someone who isn’t hit directly.

It’s colder than anything he’s ever felt, and they lose more and more of the line between them and the enemy every day.

The field hospital is barely a field hospital. It’s in a partially bombed out church, and Bucky spares a thought that he hopes to hell you aren’t here, because he can’t stomach it. Of course his instincts prove to be right.

He drives one of the medics to try to scrounge up some supplies, and when he steps inside, your voice is the first one he hears. It’s chaos in there, and he’s surprised by the number of soldiers in beds, on chairs, or just laying on the floor.

His eyes fall on you and it’s like he can finally breathe again, though his relief is replaced by worry when you meet his eyes. He barely recognizes the look on your face. He sees the recognition when you first spot him, the barely there softening of your gaze, but he doesn’t recognize the rest.

You’ve lost weight. Everyone has, but it’s stark in the way your cheekbones jut out slightly, and the way your uniform hangs on you.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you say, your voice lacking it’s usual enthusiasm. He understands. Nothing seems important anymore, nothing seems worth getting excited for. All there is, is survival.

“Lieutenant,” he says softly, giving a brief salute.

“Nurse!” A call is coming from the other side of the church, and you glance away from Bucky briefly. He wants to grab your hand, your arm, anything to keep you from heading back into the fray.

“Are you hurt?” You ask him, looking him over. He finds he’s not sure how to answer. Physically, no. But in his head? The nightmares are atrocious. The headaches-- and on top of all that, he has no idea what that Hydra scientist actually did to him.

“No,” he replies carefully. “Came to beg for any bandages and plasma you have for our medic.”

You frown. “There isn’t much. I have to see this patient, but wait here.”

He watches you go, watches the slight limp to your gait, and he finds himself clenching his fist when he hears a doctor order you around.

A few minutes later you’re back with a small box. “This is all we can spare.”

“It’ll do us good. Thank you.” He doesn’t want to leave. “What a pair we make, hey?”

You meet his eyes, untrusting. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You need to get some rest,” he counters.

“There’s too much to do.”

He knows he has to leave. He needs to get back to his unit. He wishes this were another time, another place… that he could have met you back in Brooklyn.

“Be safe.” His voice is rough, and he hates himself for it, because he barely knows you. He doesn’t know why he feels so connected to you. You’re beautiful, of course you are, but for all he knows, you have someone back home, wherever that is.

“You too, James.”

The use of his first name floors him, not just because it’s so personal, but because he can’t remember the last time someone called him by his name.

“Barnes!” A shout from the door from an agitated soldier and another shout for you by the doctor, and you’re both pulled in separate directions.

The jeep is halfway back to the line when he hears the first shell. He forces his eyes shut and takes a deep breath to try to steady himself.

It’s not until he’s shoulder to shoulder with Steve again that he allows himself to think of you briefly before he’s forced to fight again.

Always fighting.

They move out two days later.

He’s never been so happy to get out of the woods. The high spirits of the rest of the men are contagious, and he finds himself nearly grinning ear to ear as they make their way slowly down the road, the hellish cold of the night before long forgotten in the new day’s sun.

The jeeps roll to a stop and there’s a long while before they get moving again. At some point, Steve had climbed out and headed up the line to see what the hold up was.

When he gets back, he hauls himself inside, and Bucky eyes the spot where he grips the door, the spot slightly dented by his strength. He’ll never get used to it, but in the moment he’s less worried about that, and more worried about the thing he does recognize - the crease in between Steve’s brows.

“What’s wrong.”

Steve waits. When he speaks, his voice is low. “The field hospital was bombed during the shelling.”

Bucky’s entire body goes cold. Steve seems to understand, and the two of them make their way to the front of the unit on foot. When they get to the hospital, there’s a few members of the 101st Airborne milling around, the medic from Easy picking through the rubble.

Bucky doesn’t know what to say. His knees feel weak. He wants to demand answers, wants to ask what happened, but it’s a stupid question.

He feels sick. They bombed a hospital.

“Did anyone--” Bucky starts, pausing to clear his throat, “Casualties?”

The medic meets his eyes. “A few nurses and a couple patients made it out. They’re being sent back to England.”

“Buck, we have to go.” Steve says somberly, apologetically.

Bucky doesn’t say anything. He can’t breathe.

It’ll be months before he finds out what happened to you.

You don’t sleep much, anymore.

The War is over, but in so many ways, you feel like you’re still in it. Your dreams are filled with explosions and screams, and during the day, you’re forced to pretend that everything is normal, when in reality, nothing will ever be the same.

There’s a large scar on your right arm. The limp you picked up in Bastogne lingers, and is worse when the weather is cold.

You’re trying to be “normal” but can’t understand what your purpose is. After everything you’ve seen, you can’t stand to just be content to go to parties and luncheons and listen to your mother talk about marriage. It feels so trivial.

The only person you’ve talked about the War with is your father. You don’t allow yourself to get emotional, but you make it clear to him how close you came to dying. How close to the front lines you were for months.

Your friends talk about the Red Cross nurses like the whole thing was one big party - dressing up and flirting with soldiers, bringing them coffee and enjoying a European vacation. Maybe it was that way for some, but for you and the women you served closely with, it was a nightmare.

Still, you don’t regret it. You wanted to do your part, and you did more than that.

On your way to your office job, a car backfires on the street, and you jump, stumbling slightly as instinct takes over. You feel embarrassed when you remember where you are, but then there’s a hand at your elbow and gentle eyes assessing you.

“Are you okay, miss?” He looks familiar, but you can’t place him.

“Fine, fine. Sorry, I--”

“It’s okay. It startled me too.” He says, and when you meet his gaze evenly, you recognize the look there. After a moment, you recognize the face, too.

Steve Rogers. Captain America. Your heart starts to speed up, not because you’re starstruck, but because of the possibility that he’s here too. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t thought of James Barnes since you’ve been home, wondering about him.

You’ve seen the newsreels enough to know he and the Commandos made it home, thanks to Steve saving James’ life on one of their final missions.

“Steve, we haven’t got all day, we have to--” His voice interrupts your thoughts, and when you finally see him, he’s gone pale, eyes as sharp as you remember, though there’s more shadows under his eyes than you’d like to see.

He says your name on a low exhale, but it’s a question, like he can’t believe you’re here.

“Sergeant,” you reply, a smile growing on your face, and before you can object, Steve is making some excuse about ducking into the shop you’re in front of, and then James is right in front of you.

“It’s Bucky,” he corrects you gently. “My friends call me Bucky.”

“Is that what we are?”

He’s so close you can see the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. “I thought you were dead.”

You’re used to lying to everyone about what happened to you; trying to make it more palatable for those who thought you just handed out coffee and raised soldiers’ spirits. It’s refreshing to be able to tell him the truth.

“I almost was. We were almost evacuated when the bomb hit. There were still patients and nurses in the church--” You stop yourself, feeling short of breath.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

You look down at your feet, feeling awkward. You don’t know what else to say. It’s suddenly dawning on you that you don’t really know him at all. Except when you look back up at him - you can see the kindness and understanding in his eyes. The connection is there too; the one that kept you thinking of each other and seeing each other again again against all odds.

“I’m glad to see you.” You tell him honestly.

The smile that slowly grows on his face is so charming. “I’m very glad to see you too, Lieutenant.”

Despite yourself, you roll your eyes, a smile of your own on your lips. “I think we can drop the formalities.”

His eyes are intense as he takes a step closer, “Let me take you to dinner.” He takes a deep breath, “This is probably too much, but you were one of the only things to get me through the last two years. I saw you once, and I was done for, sweetheart...” He trails off, shrugging.

“You think you’re pretty cute, don’t you, Sergeant?”

“He does, so please take pity on him and go to dinner with him,” Steve’s voice interrupts, “He hasn’t stopped talking about you since I met up with him in Italy.”

You look back at the dark-haired man fidgeting next to you, rolling his eyes at his friend, and for the first time since you came home, you feel like there might be something to look forward to.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction

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