#1940s!bucky

[winterarmyy]

Promise Me | Part I

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Summary: Y/N kept being reincarnated into the world for seemingly endless of lifetimes with the lasting, vivid memories of her past lover during the 40's, Sargent James B. Barnes. While she thought this was a 'punishment' for her sins, she was also unknowingly oblivious to the fact that James was still alive somewhere, almost forever frozen in the time.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 6.5k++ (hella long bc lots to cover in the story building part)

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: just slow induced angst for your daily consumption (i guess?) It has a hopeful ending so don't let the first warning chase you away. reincarnation concept. an attempt to follow exact mcu timeline (forgive if i'm wrong at certain parts). slight religious contents. grief & loss. graphic violence. deaths. mention of suicide. a lot of reader's pov, story building > dialogs (sorry guys).

P/S: Another impulsive writing from me y'all. I hope you don't get bored of this tendency of mine lol. I just need to let the fantasies out before it consumes me. So... anyway, it's gonna be another 3 parts fic cause for the love of god, I cannot commit for more :') Also, my first attempt of writing 40's bucky!!! I'm honestly scared. I hope you like it!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Italy, 1943 – His return

If there was one thing that Bucky should have expected when he decided to be in a relationship with Y/N was it would be that he had to accept her for who she was; stubborn, clumsy, bold, clever, sweet and most certainly the prettiest dame he ever met.

He might have unknowingly signed up for it the moment he quite literally fell for her at one of those Stark's science expo. Bucky had been stealing glances at this one pretty lady in the crowd; adored in soft mint dress that falls right below her knees.

It wasn't even a scandalous dress to wear in public but somehow Bucky was more than ecstatic to marvel at her beauty. There was no such thing as a too long of a stare, especially when she laughed like that; throwing her head in amusement, the loose strands of her curls fall back across her shoulders as they slightly shook to the rhythm of her laughter.

A careless misstep – that Bucky could see from a mile away – had caused her to stagger backwards and twisted her ankle into an inevitable fall. Somehow, Bucky managed to slither his way through the crowd towards her, almost jumping forward to catch her before she landed on the ground.

Not only that he was the one who fell first, but he also fell hard.

So, it was expected that Bucky knew what he had got himself into. At least, that was what Y/N had been repeating in her head to convince herself for what she had done. Now that she was sitting at the back of the wobbly military truck, the fear had slowly started to seep into her, causing shivers to crawl all over her nerves.

Y/N just knew it in her guts that Bucky would be absolutely furious when he sees her but what does he expect her to do when she hadn't receive any letters from him for months now. So, when she heard that they needed more medic volunteers at the Italy base, she signed up without thinking twice about it.

"There has been a recent attack on the 107th. Too many casualties and much more whose heavily injured. You might have your hands full the moment you arrive to the base. There are few rules..." The lieutenant's voice was as rigid just as his demenour when he continued to inform the situation to the troops of medical staff.

No matter how much she wanted to pay attention to his words, Y/N couldn't help but to tune in only at his first few sentences. Casualties and heavily injured. Her hands moved to search for the cross pendent hanging from the necklace around her collarbone, gripping it tight as she prayed that her lover was not categorized under any of those dire circumstances.

What the lieutenant said in that truck could never be more true; as the moment they stepped into the medic tent, Y/N and the others were quickly pulled to assist the fallen men. It was truly heartbreaking and horrid to witness the dreading truth behind what the public posed as the "heroes of the country".

Surely they were proud to fight for the nation but then again no human being should ever had to suffer the consequences of war; not the civilians and certainly not the soldiers.

After seemingly hours of continuous stitching, wrapping and patching up; surrounded sound of groaning pain and the endless cycle of inhaling the distinct scent of fresh blood, burned flesh and the bitter of anticeptic odor; the injured soldiers were finally taken care of and had been put to rest.

Y/N looked around the tent, noting the unorganized mess around the patients; the result of the panic and chaos of the whole situation. A thought came to her mind, she might need to do some cleaning up before writing down medical record for each one of the patients.

That was when the lieutenant entered into the tent, and his stern gaze swiftly analyzed the much calmer scene, "Thank you for your service, everybody. I assume the soldiers are stabilized?"

"Yes, sir." One of the battalion doctor replied as he approached, while the rest of the team watched from where they stood.

The lieutenant simply nodded, "Good." He paused for awhile and looked around,  "Now, have any of you met Captain America before?"

There were bunch of no's murmured around the medical staff, some of them just shook their head as an answer and the lieutenant nodded again, "Well, I guess you are all just darn lucky cause he's here to perform. You are invited to come and join the others to watch, if you want to." He informed.

"Steve's here?" She thought to herself.

As the lieutenant continued to explain some things about accommodation, food and medical supplies, Y/N's head were filled with thought that her dear friend, Steve.

"I wonder if he gotten any words from James."

"Maybe he got letters from him?"

"Or could it be that he was here to find James too?

There were so many questions kept circulating in her head that by the time she snapped out of them, the lieutenant was already long gone and some of the volunteers went out to untangle themselves from the hours of stressful tension.

As a nurse herself, she felt the need to take care of her patients and finish her job before anything else. So, she started to clean up the shredded clothes, bloodied guazes and the other medical tools that needed to be sterilized and put away.

By the time she finished, it finally dawned to her that there was no trace of Bucky in the medic tent. Which means he didn't fall into the heavily injured category. So, there was two left; the one she prayed for and the other that dreaded her to even think about.

Y/N quickly made her way towards the tent where she can find the soldier in charge. However, if she was focused during one of the lieutenant's speech in the truck, she would've heard that she and the others were not authorized to enter certain parts of the base, which include the higher ups' tents.

When she was turned down by the soldiers, she sadly walked away towards the main area where Steve was supposed to perform. The drag of her feet across the dusty sand was heavy; but no more heavier than the burden in her heart.

She watched as her black pump shoes gradually covered with light sand. Finding it odd that a few weeks ago she was standing on the shiny tile of a hospital in Brooklyn and now she was halfway across the world in the middle of the chaos of a war.

The things she'd do for love.

Soon enough, the dry ground was wet from the sudden down pour, turning it into a murky soggy path. Y/N quickly ran towards the main area; where apparently the show was long over. "Did I missed Steve?" She thought as she stepped into the tent where the performers supposed to be.

The tent turned out to be empty as she suspected. There was only the sound of drizzling raindrops above it was left behind.

She looked around the area and saw the costumes for the performers were still there; the pleated white and red skirt hanging on the rack, white gloves clipped with them, the captain's shield with notes sticking at the back of it and the iconic blue helmet-mask plastered with the obvious letter of A.

She peeked a little to the right only to see Steve hunched down on the floor, curling into himself just as he always did back when he was left beaten up in the alleyway somewhere in Brooklyn.

A thought passed through her mind; maybe the upgrade of his size doesn't really change his habits.

Y/N walked closer to see him holding his sketchbook on one hand and another was a pencil pressing across the paper. The tip scribled up and down, lining the drawing of a monkey on a unicycle. "I guess the serum does not amplify your art skills huh, Stevie?" she teased as she approached the blonde man.

Steve lifted up his head as he turned towards the familiar voice, "y/n?" His face lit up as he recognized her face. He stood on his feet and pulled her into a tight hug, "It's so good to see you." He sighed, he haven't seen her since his departure to be paraded around the world as the 'symbol of freedom'.

He clearly remembers what he wrote in the letter regarding her wish to volunteer as a medic for the war; practically begging her to not do this and stay home.

But alas, it took awhile for him to process it but when it came to him, he gently pushed her away, "Wait.. what are you doing here?" His brows creased into a worried frown.

Y/N simply smiled as she responded, "They needed help, so I volueentered."

Steve shook his head in disbelief, "I know that." He sighed as a frown deepened across his feature, "Bucky made me promise not to let you do stuff like this."

In which Y/N countered, "And he remind you not to do anything stupid until he get back; so..." she purposely trailed her words for him to draw the conclusion on his own.

He let out a long sigh before concluding, "Bucky's gonna kill us."

Since, Bucky was in the topic, Y/N wanted to take the oppurtunity to asked Steve about him, "About that, have you heard--"

A woman's voice came from her back, cutting in between her words, "Steve?"

Steve nervously distance himself from Y/N as he shyly greeted the brunette, "Hi."

The woman continued to stare at Y/N trying to figure out her role and relationship to Steve but before she could get any strange idea, he quickly introduced her, "This is y/n. She's a good friend of mine at home."

A spark of realization glint through her eyes "I see. I'm Peggy. Nice to meet you." She extended her hand towards Y/N, in which she gladly shook it in hers as she reintroduced herself, "You too. I'm y/n."

After the brief exchange of smile between the two ladies, Steve continued to ask Peggy, "What are you doing here?"

Peggy sighed as she explained, "Officially, I'm not here at all." She paused as she picked her words, "I just came by to oversee the situation after the recent attack."

Although Y/N knew what Peggy meant, she was one of the medic staff that had been stitching up the aftermath of that attack after all. However, Steve on the other hand seemed to be lost.

Peggy further explained, "Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano, more than 200 men went up against him and less than 50 returned." She paused, "Your audience contained what's left of the 107th."

Steve's blues widen in realization that almost looked much like panic, "The 107th?"

"What?" Peggy prompt quickly.

Steve then turned his head to Y/N, "Bucky?" He questioned shortly.

But even she was hoping that he'll know something about Bucky, apparently she was wrong, "I tried to ask but I'm not authorized to enter the tent. I was hoping you heard from him."

Seeing the panic in Steve's eyes, she knew that her lover was no where near the safety that she prayed for. But before fear could set in, Steve sprinted out of the tent, "Come on!" he shouted as Y/N and Peggy ran closely behind him.

When they arrived to the tent, fortunately they had the permission to enter with the help of Peggy. "Well, if it isn't the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan. What is your plan today?" Colonel Philips greeted in a teasing manner.

Steve didn't even bother to greet the colonel as he demanded, "I need the casualty list from Azzano." In which the Philips responded, "You don't get to give me orders, son."

Knowing that arguments won't help the situation, he control his tone of voice and spoke, "I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th." He took a short breath and insisted, "Please tell me if he's alive, sir. B-A-R-"

Colonel Phillips stood on his feet as he walked towards a table behind him, "I can spell. I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count." He paused before turning around to eye on Steve and briefly on the very worried looking nurse next to him.

"But the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry." There was a flash of sincerity in his eyes when he looked towards Y/N.

The optimistic Steve continued to insist more about other possibilities than casualties, "What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?" They went back and forth about the what is the 'right' thing to do, "Yes, it's called 'winning the war'. "

And suddenly sound of the heavy rain fall was all Y/N could hear, then comes the booming of her heartbeat as the panic started to deprive her of any optimism; clouding her judgment to think of anything near to positive outcomes such as Steve.

It was getting harder to breath and the anxiety slowly choked her from within, forcing tears to pool in her eyes. Peggy swiftly took a hold on Y/N, before her knees managed to fall to the ground. The muffled sound of Peggy's voice managed to come through but not enough to wake her from the despair.

Before she knew it, Steve was already gone for an unauthorized rescue mission with the help from Peggy. And ever since, Y/N had spend every waking moment digging her knees into the uneven ground under her tent. Her elbows were bruised from how hard she propped them on the steel edge of the army green cot. Her palms almost dented to shape of the silver cross as she desperately squeeze it between her hold.

She prayed and prayed for his return. For both of her dearest to be safe, to find their way home.

Every part of her body was numb and all she hoped for was to have her prayers be answered. And it seems like God heard her whispers of the night.

Like the others, Y/N was drawn to the commotion as the crowd was getter louder. At first she noticed a few, then the circle of soldiers were geting thicker when the survivors joined the rest of them. There were chantings of "Captain America" that echoed throughout the base and that gave her relief to know that Steve was safe.

But it was not enough to tame her anxiousness. Y/N's focus has never been sharper when her eyes scanned the crowd, she slithered her way between the jumping joy of the soldiers, grabbing onto some men who she mistook as Bucky; until she saw him.

Her heartbeat ramped increasingly as she pushed through the soldiers, finding strength from the blood pumping excitement when she recognize those steel blues and that cheeky smile. Not long before she managed to grab onto his hand and pulled his attention to her.

It was brief but he knew that face anywhere; and suddenly his whole body was engulf into a familiar tight hug that he thought he could never be able to feel again. "James." her voice stuttered even if it was just one word that came out of her lips.

"y/n?" Bucky called her name, almost in disbelief.

God, she never knew that she was able to miss his voice this much.

"Doll, what you doing here?" He gently lead her away, which she reluctantly followed, "I'm here for you." There was no need of lies now that Bucky was here in her arms.

His gaze soften with a mix of concern and joy, "What do you mean you're here for me?" Bucky couldn't help but to let out a short laugh, "Sweetheart, you do realized that you're in the middle of a warzone?" His brows quirked as he reminded.

Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course, she realized that. The moment she saw that form for the volunteer enlistment, she already knew that. But, it didn't stop her to sign up, does it?

She laced her fingers into his, "I didn't come all the way here to fight with you, James." she whispered as she leaned closer, "So, please just shut up and kiss me."

Bucky might have just realized it now; what a stubborn, demanding, crazy little lover got himself. Though at the same time, he had never been more charmed.

Bucky sighed in defeat before running his tongue on his lower lip, "Well then, come here you little minx" he took her by the head and gave her the most desperate yet sweetest kiss she could never forget.

Brooklyn, 1944 – Promises, promises

It was the day that Steve, Bucky and the rest of the Howling Commandos were depolying to the Austrian Alps for one of the biggest mission since Captain's impulsive rescue mission in Italy last year.

Apparently, Zola was on the move and predicted to be passing though the location while travelling on a train.

This wasn't the first time she had sent Bucky away, but the fear of each departure always felt like it was her first; especially when she thought about the promise of death that's chained to a soldier's fate.

The closer the time of departure, the stronger her grip on Bucky's uniform becomes. And Bucky didn't need to say anything because he knows her too well; she won't take any of his sweet words as a cure for her distress.

Instead, Bucky slowly swayed her from side to side as their embrace tightens with need; her face hidden in the crook of his neck while his arms secured around her waist. He had to smile as it reminded him of their late night dance, barefoot on the kitchen floor of his tiny apartment.

He could feel the teasing gaze coming from his back as well as the whistles of the Howling Commandos playfully making fun of him. Bucky was also well aware of the fact that everyone had made theirs bets on when will the Sargent James B. Barnes finally get down on his knees for his little nightingale of a nurse.

Unsurprisingly, Steve might just win the bet afterall. That punk just had know everything about him.

Y/N snuggled closer into him, "Come home to me, James." She whispered against his skin before pulling away. Teary eyes threatened to spill its salty liquid as she looked up at him, "Promise me."

Bucky's charming smile lighten his features as he leaned to press a kiss in her forehead, "I promise."

Brooklyn, 1945 – Loved and lost

Months gone by, entered the new year, and it always felt like eternity for Y/N. She spent nights kneeling next to her bed and days on the church's floor; practically begging to God for the life of her lover, for keeping him away from death.

And the letters from Bucky also come and goes within those few months' time, with his promises of coming home; laced in the words of his longing and love for her.

But, little did she knew, that promise met it's end of the bargain when the dreaded letter came to her hands. It came from the man she met back in Italy base, Colonel Phillips, sending the words of condolences for the death Sargent James B. Barnes during his honourable mission at the Austrian Alps.

But the first time she read to words, it didn't even register in her head. It was as if her brain failed to translate the text; unable to make it so she understood what they meant. Y/N had been re-reading the same lines over and over and over until it finally clicked.

The usually bright eyes of hers were now slowly filled with tears, she was in the state of shock; that even if her brain knew exactly what had happened but her heart wasn't ready for it. 

The tears started to fall down onto the letter. Drip by drip. And all of the sudden she lost every word that she could ever think of. Her silent scream; suffocating her with each breath she took desperately gripping onto the fragile piece of paper, holding it to her chest hold as if that would help to ease the pain in her heart.

Y/N could feel it in her ripping guts. How all the threads of every joyful memories she could ever once recall; they unraveled in a way that broke her to pieces until they were all but a rumpled of strings scattered about her feet.

A sharp fall had forced Y/N down to her knees, skin digging into the hard floor as her hands trembled silently, clutching onto the letter.

At first when she opened her mouth, there was not a single sound came out as her breath ripped from her lungs. Each left her with scars of loss and every waking minute in this reality was just pure pain.

Her body bend forward until her forehead meets the cold floor; that was when she wailed – an agonizing scream that left a haunting memory to the neighbours around her apartment.

She cried like there was too much raw pain inside that she could never contained. She cried like her soul needed to break loose from her skin, desperate to release a loathful rage on the world. 

But it was more than just crying, it was the sobbing of a woman that drained of all hope. She sank on floor, willing herself to be swallowed by the dread and loss. Just screaming out the agonies that been dancing across her vulnerable veins. 

Her chest violently quivered as she was desperately trying to catch the air. She collected every last energy that she had to call out the name of the lover she had loss, "James.." Her gasping breath whispered against the floor, "You promised." 

A month later the nation celebrate to the announcement to the end of a war, but to Y/N it was just another wave of mourning grief to a loss of another precious person in her life; Steve.

Amidst the loud sound of cheering and laughter, she rushed away from the crowd to the place that she had put all her faith into. Stumbling through the empty church and falling at the feet of Jesus' statue, Y/N looked up at the face of God; not with her usual admiration but instead with so much loath, rage and despair.

The night sky was brighten to the flashing light from the firework but all she could think of was how similar the sound of it to a firing canon in the war.

And the thought of Bucky and Steve run through her mind.

She had been nothing but faithful to the lord, religiously prayed for no more than saving the life of people she held dear to her heart.

But, God thought it would be merciful to let them die.

Y/N harshly ripped the cross necklace from her neck, tearing her skin apart in the process. She gripped on the cross in her hands, much like she would few months back but for completely different reason.

The crimson of her blood tainted the white collar of her nurse uniform as she she cursed the all mighty God for what he had done. Ever since, she swore to herself to never be naive to the illusion of God's mercy ever again.

Washington D.C., 2014 – An old friend

Fate is full with irony and God has his way of twisting them for his own pleasure.

When Y/N died in the 60's, old and unmarried, even if she doesn't believe in God anymore, her dying wish was to be able to meet her lover and friend again.

At least one more time.

But lo and be hold, he had different plans for her. Y/N's body did die that night on the hospital bed but her soul never did. It was as if she was woken up from sleep in another body with the same face as her, that's when she realized she has been reincarnated.

Apparently, she was only born in the same family lineage as her original life; whether coming from her younger brother or cousin or anyone related back to her bloodline. And sharing even the tiniest amount of blood of her own, triggers every single memory from her previous life.

This wasn't what she wanted.

She didn't want to live knowing she cannot be with Bucky.

So on the second life, she did the unthinkable. She took her own life, thinking that she would finally leave the world behind but she didn't.

It happened again.

And again.

And again.

So, when she reached her sixth life, she realized that she will never able to meet James and Steve ever again; that was when she went rogue.

Her sixth life was filled with rage and vengeance; to the point that she took the idea of life very lightly. So, instead of living until the old days, she searched for revenge and got herself tragically killed in the process.

Now, the 18 year old Y/N was in her seventh life, with a new name that was given by her seventh parents, "Evelyn" , and the spitting image of her first life. From her dark raven hair to the light brown of her eyes. This time, she decided to try to accept the cruel fate; the cursed that God had placed on her for the sin that she made decades ago.

Y/N walked around the Smithsomian Museum, specifically at the American history section where they put up Captain America's exhibit. It's been how many lifetimes since she surround herself with knowledge of a past that she once lived.

This was the first time, since her first life. And most probably the last time since she was going overseas in a week to continue her studies in Asia.

She walked along the line up display of the Howling Commandos suits, remembering the living flesh of them as she took steps forward to each, stopping in front of Bucky's.

Flashes of him appeared to where the figure stood; the memories was so vivid that she could still feel fabric of his suit against her, the electrifying feeling on his skin on her own.

She ripped her gaze away just to be greeted by the portrait of Bucky, plastered so huge and proud on the memorial of one of the Howling Commandos section. Despite the cracking of her heart, her body move on its own; as they knew that deep down, Y/N's heart will always be yearning for her lover.

Her gaze soften with longing and nostalgic as she slowly blink at his features. His considerably messy hair, that little frown that he does to act mysterious for the ladies, and the thin layer of beard that she loved to leave her lipstick marks on.

Y/N's daydream were cut short when someone pulled her by the arm, startling her into a defensive mode. Her sixth life's habit almost broke through when she nearly flipped the man on the floor but thankfully she stopped herself as she recognized those blue eyes.

The man's face looked pale like he had seen a ghost, as he uttered a name that she haven't heard for decades, "y/n?"

"Steve..." she called his name wordlessly.

She knew he was alive. Everybody does.

When the news came out in 2011, she was merely a 15 year old kid back then. Apparently, the super soldier serum helped him to survive the ice.

She remembered how her parents rushed to her room when they heard the sudden cluttering sounds of panic upstairs, only to find their daughter on the floor looking pale while her cup of iced coffee spilling in all over her study desk as the viral youtube video of Captain America running through New York city barefoot playing on the screen of her computer.

She remembered the feeling of both disbelief and joy that rushed through body as her parents helped her to sit up on her bed. The moment that it sunk into her head, she began to cry. Streams of joyful tears broke from her shaky body, each drop washed the painful burden in her heart as her parents lulled her to sleep.

Y/N never made an effort to meet him after knowing truth. Because who would believe her?

She wasn't Steve.

There wasn't any super soldier serum in her blood. There wasn't any tank of chemical that drown her with power.

She was cursed and now she had to live with it.

Meanwhile, Steve seemed to be trapped in a spiralling confusion of his own. He examined each of her features and he had not a single doubt that she has the same face to an old friend in the 40's.

The same friend that he knew died of old age in the 60's.

But, how come the person managed to have the exact same face to hers. Now that he looked closer, she was younger than the last time he saw Y/N.

She looked like she was in her late teens, "Are you really y/n?" His voice was soft as he muttered.

Y/N bit the insides of her cheeks, holding back the urge of telling him the truth, "Sorry, I think you got the wrong person." she tried to untangle his grasp around her arm.

Even her voice was similar to Y/N, and she was looking at Bucky's photo like she knew him.

How could she say that she's was not Y/N?

Steve reluctantly let go of her arms and took a step away after seeing the distress on her face, "I-I'm sorry. You remind me of someone I know." He couldn't take his eyes off her.

She was just too similar looking to someone precious that he left behind.

"It's okay, sir." She smiled gently, like the way she usually does when Steve apologizes for his impulsiveness of picking a fight in alleyways. She looked up to the taller man as she continued, "Thank you for being alive..." she hesitated to call him by his name so instead she called for his other name, "...Captain."

She thanked him sincerely before walking away, leaving Steve to reminisce the memories of his life with Y/N and Bucky as he stared at Bucky's memorial.

The next week, she left the United States for Asia where she planned to spend 4 years studying at the National University of Singapore, leaving her past behind in hopes of moving forward with her life, refusing to care about the avengers shenanigans anymore, including her dear friend, Steve.

New York, 2018 – New norms

When half of the population was wiped out from the earth, two of them was Y/N's parents. And like every other people who had lost their loved ones during the blip, her parents sudden absence truly take a toll on her, especially when she was planning to live a long life with them.

After graduating and getting a decent job in Singapore, she was forced to go back to New York when it happened. Y/N couldn't just let her childhood house left abandoned, she simply can't let that happen.

You would thought a person who had multiple lifetimes would be used to losing someone they love but no. It only gets worst as the years go by.

The more Y/N tried to fit into the new norms, the more that she could feel herself slipping into old habits of her sixth life.

Until that one drunken night when she visited the Smithsomian Museum again after years of forcing herself to forget about him; it took her one look at the potrait of Bucky, she knew what she had to do.

Germany, 2023 – An old nemesis

Nearly 5 years into the blip and Y/N was already becoming a legend in the underground scene. They called her the Deathstalker. She never really knew the origin of it but nevertheless she chooses to stick with the newly founded identity.

With the skills she picked up on her sixth life, she easily became the most deadly assassin in the business. Seemingly in a constant competition of reputation with the highly popular, black widow assassins.

Though she couldn't care less about who was winning the battle, she only cares about tracking anything or anyone related to Hydra.

After that fateful night at the museum, she couldn't help but to think that this must be her calling.

If the curse made her technically immortal, then why not became the hunter destined to slay the monster. They said that Hydra will never die, but so was she. And if anything good came out from this curse, then she might as well use it to avenge Bucky.

And bring the old nemesis to the ground.

Her sixth life was similar to this but she wasn't going to make the same mistake. The flaming greed to have her revenge was too strong back then, it lead her to be hasty and clumsy, which then let her to an early death.

But, she's grown out of those immaturity.

Nowadays, she takes her time and still get the job done flawlessly. Just like she is now, when the soft but dark sound of her chuckle, interrupted the silence that had claimed the room.

The poor man was sitting limp on the chair with his body tied with it. He had been like this for seemingly hours with a knife in one of his thighs, which trembled with the vibrations of his body.

More so, when Y/N twisted them, causing a keen of pain to clawed up his throat and spilled out a hoarse groan.

"Where is it?" Her fingers wrapped around the handle, as she watched the man tossed his head, more with fear than trying to answer.

"I don't like to repeat myself." Y/N slid the blade free, causing a noise he would not forget. The man sagged against his bonds, panting as he watched the blood surged and dribbled out of the wound.

But then he felt the prick against his other leg, wide eyes turning to watch as the knife was held above his skin, Y/N's hand flat against the top, ready to push in. "Where the fuck is it?" her tone was eerie as the voice changer in her mask produced an emotionless robotic effect on it.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The thick german accent seethed through his voice as he grunted in pain.

There was only boredom in Y/N's eyes as she gazes straight into his. A stab of the knife went through his thigh without a warning, until the tip of it almost met the flat surface of the chair beneath it.

The whole room echoed with the sound of the whimpering and cries of his struggle, "Please, I swear to God I don't know what you're talking about." He pleaded as fast as he can, when he felt the shortage of breaths in his lungs due to dealing with the excruciating pain.

"Playing dumb isn't going to help you, mutt." She twisted the knife, pulled out and stabbed it again causing him to fall into an almost delirious state, "Please, please please, I swear I don't know anything about the serum." He blurted out of misery.

There it was.

The thing she wanted to hear.

Y/N's eyebrow quirked in interest, "I never mentioned the serum in our conversation, no?"

He fucked up.

He knew that he fucked up.

But, does it matter when his body was searing in pain?

By the end of the intense interrogation, Y/N finally got the intel she needed to find and destroy whatever was left behind by Wilfred Nagel, who was recruited by the CIA to recreate the super soldier serum.

Those greedy fuckers just cannot stay away from things that shouldn't be meddled with. Even Y/N could see the potential threats of a successful recreation the super soldier serum; they were practically asking for Hydra to revive to its glory days.

And she would not allow that to happen.

She needed to destroy it before its finished.

A loud wail left the man's lips, almost sounded a little strained as he had been screaming in pain for hours. Y/N mercilessly grabbed him by his sweaty chin as she pried his mouth open. Knowing exactly what was coming, the man begged, "Oh lord, please please help me please."

Leaning closer she coldly spoke, "The gods doesn't care about you. Trust me I've been there." With a swift strike, she forced her knife down his throat, and a splash of red tainted her mask, nearly got into her eyes but she managed to blink before it does.

She stood still as she watched him gurgle on his own blood as death collected his soul. Wiping the blood away from her eyelid, she walked out of the abandoned building with a mission to finish; all the while blissfully oblivious to the war that the avengers were fighting to their death on the other side of the world.

Madripoor, 2024 – The most prized asset

The returned of her parents were as sudden as the lost. Though she was glad that they were back, however she had to live a double life now that they kept asking about her job and personal life as they wanted to catch up for the lost of time in 5 years.

Y/N felt bad for lying to her parents but it was for their own good. Now, that she had sent them to a honeymoon to travel all over Europe, she felt better in pursuing her mission without concerns.

Besides the joyful return there was also the awful ones.

Now, that Wilfred Nagel was back from the blip. The serum was perfected to its finest version. And was stolen by bunch of kids protesting for equal rights.

What a fucking mess that was.

But, she would deal with that later. The main focus right now was to find the man itself. There would be no more serums if the source is eradicated.

That was her priority.

With her face hidden behind her signature mask, Y/N walked through the messy crowd as she searches for Shelby's men. This should be a short meeting, since Shelby and her had history together; or more to a favour that she owns to Y/N.

However, when she tried to tune in into the hushed conversations in the crowd, she noticed that the murmurs seemed to be divided into two hot topics; one about the sudden appreance of the Deathstalker, which was herself, and second was surprisingly about the return of another notorious assassin. 

Then when the conversations died down, a fight suddenly broke out. Y/N hold on the handle of her blades from the side of her thighs, as she stiffed into a defensive mode.

While on the other hand, the crowd seemed to be more interested in recording the fight, than avoiding it.

She seemlessly weaved her way through the people, only to see that the action ended with a man choked onto the bar table. The was attacker's face turned away from her, she could only see his figure from the back.

Then, a gleam of gold caught her attention, Y/N squinted her eyes as she analyzed the man's left arm.

It was not the pattern of the sleeve from his suit.

It was his arm.

A black bionic arm.

Which reminded of her of someone she came across in her sixth life; but his arm was a tin foil silver with a red star on his upper side. At the time, he was Hydra's most prized asset, they called him the Winter Soldier.

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: yes, I am well aware that left y'all hanging but I still hope you enjoy this one. Tell me what you think so far, I'm curious if y'all cry at the part where she received the letter or maybe you can comment of something else, I'd still love to hear them ♡

[the-winter-spider]

Willow | 1/2

Pairings: 1940sBucky x Agent!Reader, Bucky x agent!reader

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: Nothing really

A/N: This fic was inspired by @vibraniumqueen message sent to me!! Hope its sort of what you requested! I got carried away and now have to post this in 2 parts lol

Im not like the biggest fan of this buuuuut after writing over 15k words total for the whole fic i gotta post it lol ALSO i definitely did not edit this lmao oopsie

The door slid open, and in walked Nick Fury, his presence commanding the room as always. He didn’t bother with formalities; he never did.

“Agent,” Fury began, his voice low and steady. “We’ve got a mission. One that never happened, and one you’ll never speak of again.”

You nodded, your face impassive, though your mind was already racing. Missions like these were your specialty. You didn’t operate in the spotlight. You weren’t one of Fury’s public heroes or a celebrated Avenger. You were a shadow, a weapon honed in the dark, moving through the world unnoticed. A ghost.

Fury crossed the room, his trench coat brushing the floor as he moved. “We’ve identified a Nazi stronghold in 1941, deep in occupied Europe. They’re in possession of critical documents — plans and technology decades ahead of their time. We can’t let those files survive the war.”

You glanced at the map, your mind already calculating. “Time travel,” you said, your voice calm, though the weight of the mission began to settle on your shoulders.

Fury nodded. “You’ll be stationed as a nurse with the 107th Infantry. They’ll be arriving at a field camp near the stronghold in a few days. Your cover is simple: blend in, gain access to the target, retrieve the files, and get out. No deviations. No attachments.”

You resisted the urge to scoff. No attachments. That had been drilled into you since the beginning. You were trained to be invisible, to serve a mission and then disappear without a trace. Your past in the Red Room had taught you that much, and SHIELD had only refined it.

“I assume I’m working alone,” you said.

Fury’s expression didn’t change. “You always do.”

It was true. You were a ghost in every sense of the word. You’d spent your entire life operating on the fringes, never part of a team, never part of their world. You knew of the Avengers, of course—who didn’t? But they didn’t know you. You weren’t a part of their grand battles or their legendary victories.

Well, except for one. Natasha Romanoff. She’d been a fleeting presence in your life, a reminder of your shared origins in the Red Room. You’d trained in the same shadows, fought the same demons. But even then, you hadn’t truly known her. She’d been a specter of a different life, one that had moved on without you. While she got recruited there, Fury thought you were best suited in the shadows.

You refocused as Fury handed you a dossier. Inside were detailed maps, forged documents, and a small vial containing a glowing blue liquid. The device that would send you back in time.

“You know the drill,” Fury said, his tone as sharp as ever. “You’re not there to change history, only to secure our future. In and out. No one remembers you, and you don’t bring anything or anyone back.”

You nodded, flipping through the dossier. “And the 107th?”

“They don’t know who you are, and they never will. You’re a nurse. That’s it. But one name on that roster might ring a bell.” Fury tapped the folder, and you found it instantly. Barnes, James Buchanan.

The name didn’t spark recognition, but it did send a strange ripple through your thoughts. “Why him?” you asked.

Fury shrugged. “No reason. He’s just another soldier in the unit. But don’t let that distract you. This mission isn’t about making friends, and it damn sure isn’t about saving anyone who doesn’t need saving.”

You clenched your jaw. Fury’s words were a reminder of the line you couldn’t cross. You’d trained for this moment for years, honing your skills to perfection. You were designed to be unseen, unheard, and unfelt.

Fury’s voice snapped you back. “You’ve got your orders. Do your job, Agent. Leave no trace.”

You took the dossier and the vial, tucking them away with practiced efficiency. “Understood,” you said, your voice steady, devoid of hesitation. But as you turned to leave, the familiar mantra echoed in your mind: No attachments. No connections. You’re a ghost.

Later, when you finally opened the dossier, your eyes landed on a photograph. Barnes. The name was familiar, but it wasn’t until you stared at his face that something inside you stirred. A strange sense of recognition flickered in the back of your mind. You knew him—or at least, it felt like you did.

You flipped the page, your pulse quickening as more details came into view. And then, you saw it.

The Winter Soldier.

The words stared back at you, cold and unfeeling, but they sparked a storm of emotions you weren’t prepared for. You knew the name, of course. Everyone in this business did. The ghost story whispered in shadows, the assassin whose presence was felt long after he disappeared into the night. But what you didn’t know was the man behind it.

Your gaze drifted back to the photograph, and for a moment, everything else fell away. His eyes. Even through the grainy black-and-white image, they stood out—haunted, distant, yet somehow familiar. There was innocence there, a quiet humanity buried beneath the weight of the darkness he would come to bear.

You tightened your grip on the file, your knuckles whitening. Ghosts weren’t meant to feel, and yet here you were, shaken by a face from the past you couldn’t place but somehow couldn’t forget.

Flipping through the pages, you scanned his history—Brooklyn, 1941, the 107th Infantry. Your breath caught as more images filled the pages. Pictures of him before he became the Winter Soldier: laughing with other soldiers, standing beside a scrawny young man labeled Steve Rogers, of course you knew him as Captain America but no one would ever know you. Then, the darker photos followed. HYDRA. The experiments. The cold, dead stare of a man who had been stripped of everything.

The door to your quarters slid shut with a soft hiss, and for a moment, the silence was almost suffocating. You placed the dossier and the small vial of glowing blue liquid on the steel table in front of you. The mission parameters were clear, the risks higher than usual, but none of that was new. You’d done this before, moving through missions like a shadow, leaving no trace. Yet, something about this one felt… different. Heavier.

You sat down, the cold metal of the chair grounding you. Flicking open the dossier, you reviewed the details again, committing every piece of information to memory. Maps, personnel lists, cover identities. You’d be stationed as a nurse in a field hospital near the front lines. A perfect cover for blending in. Your forged papers were flawless, down to the tiniest detail.

Your name was different now. Your past erased, rewritten to fit the narrative of a 1940s nurse.

Ghosts didn’t get attached. Ghosts didn’t feel. You weren’t there to alter history or forge connections. Your mission was simple: retrieve the files, destroy them if necessary, and get out.

You pushed the dossier aside and picked up the vial, turning it over in your hands. The blue liquid shimmered faintly, a reminder of the power it held. Time travel was a delicate operation, one that required precision and absolute control. There was no room for error.

You placed the vial carefully into the injector and secured it around your wrist. The faint hum of the device powering up was the only sound in the room.

Your internal monologue began to surface, unbidden.

You weren’t supposed to be here, not in this timeline, not in their world. You’d been forged in the Red Room, molded into an instrument of precision and silence. SHIELD had found you, given you purpose beyond the shadows of your past, but you had never stepped into the light. You were designed to operate in the margins of history, invisible to the heroes who saved the world.

It hurt thinking of Natasha, her voice, her presence in the Red Room. She had been a beacon of strength. But she had walked away from that world, found a new family. You? You remained in the shadows, bound to missions that no one could know about, missions that didn’t exist on paper. You didn't exist on paper.

You stood and approached the small mirror on the wall. The face staring back at you was calm, unyielding. But behind your eyes, you could see the tension creeping in.

You’re not doing this for glory or recognition. You’re doing this because you’re the only one who can.

You reached for the pack of clothing and equipment laid out on the nearby table. The nurse’s uniform was meticulously crafted, down to the period-accurate buttons and insignia. As you slipped into the attire, you felt yourself becoming the role. The transformation was seamless, automatic, a ritual that pulled you deeper into the identity you were about to assume.

Finally, you secured the last piece: a silver locket around your neck. Inside was a tiny microchip, a piece of technology far beyond anything the 1940s could comprehend. It was your failsafe, your tether back to the present.

A soft chime from the injector reminded you it was time. You glanced around the room, taking in every detail, knowing this might be the last familiar sight you’d see for a while. Then, you pressed the button on your wrist.

The world around you began to shift, colors bleeding into one another as time folded in on itself. Your heart pounded, but your expression remained stoic. You’d trained for this, prepared for every contingency. You were ready.

As the light around you intensified, your final thought was simple, resolute: You are a ghost. Leave no trace.

And then, the world snapped into focus, and you were standing in a field hospital in 1941, the distant sound of artillery fire echoing through the air.

The mission had begun.

The salty breeze off the English Channel carried the smell of sea and steel, a sharp reminder of the battles waged across its waters. You stood at the edge of the field hospital camp, the makeshift tents and wooden crates around you blending into the mud-soaked earth. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows as the air grew cooler.

From where you were stationed, you could see the transport ship docking at the pier. Its hulking frame loomed against the gray sky, the gangplank lowering with a heavy groan. One by one, soldiers began to disembark, their boots clanging against the metal as they descended.

You were trained to observe, to analyze every detail without drawing attention to yourself. These men were exhausted, their faces grim and hardened by the horrors they had faced. Their uniforms were wrinkled and stained, helmets tilted at weary angles. They moved like a unit, but each step spoke of personal battles, of stories carried in silence.

You stayed rooted in place, your nurse’s uniform a perfect blend of authority and anonymity. A clipboard in your hand gave you an excuse to linger, but no one paid you much mind. This was war. You were just another face in the chaos.

Your eyes scanned the line of soldiers disembarking, cataloging them with practiced precision. You were supposed to be looking for weaknesses, details that might help you blend in more effectively. But then, your gaze landed on one man.

He walked with a quiet confidence, his posture upright despite the weight of fatigue. Dark hair peeked out from beneath his helmet, and his steel-blue eyes scanned the camp with a soldier’s wariness. His face was sharp, shadowed by stubble, but it was his expression that caught you—equal parts focused and distant, as if he were both here and somewhere far away.

James Buchanan Barnes.

You knew his name, knew his story—or at least, the parts that history would remember… the parts in the folder. But standing here now, seeing him in the flesh, was something else entirely. He wasn’t just a name in a dossier or a ghost from the past. He was real, and the weight of that realisation hit you like a wave.

I’m like the water when your ship rolled in that night.

His arrival had stirred something deep within you, something you couldn’t explain.

You weren’t supposed to feel this way. Your mission was clear: stay invisible, complete the task, and leave. No deviations, no entanglements. But as you watched him, your chest tightened with an inexplicable pull. There was something about him, something magnetic.

Bucky paused near the base of the gangplank, helping another soldier with a crate of supplies. His voice was low, his words lost in the din of the camp, but the kindness in his gestures was unmistakable. He was a soldier, yes, but there was a warmth to him, a spark of humanity that hadn’t been extinguished by war.

You forced yourself to look away, focusing on the clipboard in your hand. Stay sharp. Stay focused. You couldn’t afford distractions, not here, not now.

And yet, your eyes betrayed you, flickering back to him as he moved through the camp, his presence impossible to ignore. You told yourself it was just curiosity, a natural reaction to seeing someone you’d only read about.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to wonder what it would be like to speak to him, to share even a fraction of the weight you carried. But the thought was fleeting, quickly buried beneath the weight of your training.

You are a ghost. Leave no trace.

The smell of antiseptic and damp canvas filled the air as you moved between the rows of cots in the makeshift medical tent. Their arrival—was what you’d been waiting for.

You were focused on checking supplies when a familiar commotion at the tent entrance caught your attention. A group of soldiers sauntered in, their uniforms caked in dirt and their faces shadowed with fatigue. Among them was a man who immediately stood out. His dark hair curled slightly at the ends, his blue eyes bright despite the grime smeared across his face. He carried himself with an easy confidence, even as he favoured one leg.

Your mission dossier hadn’t prepared you for the sheer presence of him.

As the soldiers dispersed to their assigned cots, he made a beeline for you. His limp was subtle but noticeable, and despite yourself, your training kicked in.

“Take a seat,” you said, your voice steady as you gestured to an empty cot. “I’ll take a look at that leg.”

Bucky flashed a crooked smile, his eyes sweeping over you with interest. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said, his voice smooth, tinged with the faintest Brooklyn accent. “And here I thought this camp was all bad news.”

You arched an eyebrow, setting down your clipboard. “Flattery won’t get you out of a medical exam, Sergeant Barnes.”

His grin widened as he sat down, wincing slightly. “So, you know my name. That’s a good start. What do I call you, Nurse…?”

You hesitated for half a second, then gave him your cover name. “Nurse Johnson.”

“Well, Nurse Johnson,” he said, leaning back on his hands, “if I’d known there were nurses like you out here, I’d have gotten shot a long time ago.”

You gave him a pointed look, crouching in front of him to roll up the tattered leg of his uniform. “Let’s try to avoid that, shall we?”

Bucky’s laugh was soft but genuine, his gaze never leaving your face. “You’re all business, huh?”

You pressed lightly on his shin, watching for a reaction. “Someone has to be. Looks like you’ve got a nasty sprain, but nothing’s broken.”

“Guess I’ll live to fight another day,” he said, wincing slightly as you adjusted his leg.

“Barely,” you muttered, grabbing a bandage from your kit. As you wrapped his leg, you could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his attention almost unnerving.

“So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked, his tone playful but curious.

"Thats the line you're gonna go with?" The corners of your lips slightly turned as you tied off the bandage, sitting back on your heels. “Helping stubborn soldiers like you survive long enough to get home.”

Bucky chuckled, his head tilting slightly. “You got a smart mouth on you, Nurse Johnson. I like that.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up and crossing your arms. “And you’ve got a sprained leg. Try not to make it worse.”

He grinned again, leaning forward slightly. “You know, if you’re ever looking for a dance partner when this war’s over, I’d be happy to oblige.”

Despite yourself, you felt a small smile tug at your lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You better. A guy like me doesn’t make that offer twice.”

Shaking your head, you gathered your supplies and turned to leave. “Try to stay out of trouble, Sergeant.”

“No promises,” he called after you, his voice warm and teasing. “But I’ll do my best if it means seeing you again.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back, finding him still watching you, his smile softer now. Your mission had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

The first few days at the field hospital were a blur of motion and noise. Soldiers came in with fresh wounds, some minor, others devastating. Your hands worked tirelessly, stitching cuts, setting broken bones, administering whatever pain relief was available. You moved through it all like a machine, your focus never wavering.

You’d trained for moments like this, where life and death were separated by a thread, but this mission wasn’t about saving lives—it was about staying hidden long enough to complete your objective. The files you needed were still buried somewhere in enemy hands, and every moment you spent here was one step closer to obtaining them.

Still, blending in was vital, and that meant interacting with the men around you. They were polite, for the most part, offering nods of gratitude when you patched them up. But one soldier in particular seemed to be making it his mission to capture your attention.

“Hey, Nurse,” a familiar voice called out one evening as you worked on organizing supplies. You turned to see Bucky Barnes leaning against the frame of the medical tent, a lopsided grin on his face. “Got a minute?”

You raised an eyebrow, but kept your expression neutral. “That depends. Are you here because you need actual medical attention, or are you just bored?”

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Bit of both, maybe.”

You sighed, setting down the bandages you were sorting. “Let me guess—another soldier got into a scuffle and you decided to play referee?”

Bucky stepped closer, his helmet tucked under his arm. “Something like that. You know how it is. Boys will be boys.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, and despite yourself, you felt a flicker of amusement.

You crossed your arms, feigning exasperation. “Well, if you’re not bleeding, you’re wasting my time, Sergeant.”

“Ah, but see, you didn’t check.” He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Maybe I’ve got a battle wound you missed.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the small smile threatening to break through. “If you’re trying to flirt, you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Flirt? Me?” Bucky placed a hand over his heart, mock-offended. “I’m just trying to keep morale up. Can’t have our best nurse getting all serious on us.”

“Best nurse?” You arched an eyebrow. “You’ve known me for all of three days, Barnes.”

“Three days is all I need,” he said smoothly, his voice dropping just enough to send a small shiver down your spine. “I’ve got a good eye for people.”

You turned back to your supplies, determined to maintain your composure. “Well, maybe you should use that good eye to look out for your men instead of distracting me.”

Bucky chuckled again, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “I do that too. Multitasking, you know?”

You shot him a pointed look, but before you could respond, another soldier poked his head into the tent, interrupting the moment. “Sarge, we’ve got a situation by the south perimeter.”

Bucky’s demeanour shifted instantly, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by sharp focus. He gave you a quick nod, then turned to follow the soldier out.

“Don’t work too hard, doll,” he called over his shoulder as he left. “Wouldn’t want you wearing yourself out.”

You shook your head, finally letting out a small laugh once he was gone. Bucky Barnes was trouble, that much was clear. He was charming, confident, and far too good at making you forget the rules you were supposed to live by.

But he was also a soldier, just like the rest of them. And you were here for a mission, not for him.

Stay focused, you reminded yourself, though it was getting harder with every interaction.

The next few days followed a similar pattern. Bucky found every opportunity to stop by the medical tent, whether it was to check on his men or to toss a teasing remark your way. He seemed determined to pull you out of your shell, to coax a smile or a laugh from you no matter how busy or serious the day became.

One afternoon, as you were tending to a soldier with a shrapnel wound, Bucky appeared again, his presence filling the tent like sunlight cutting through a storm.

“Thought you might need some help,” he said, leaning casually against a supply crate.

You didn’t even look up. “Unless you’ve suddenly become a medic, I think I’m good.”

“Hey, I’m a fast learner,” he quipped, stepping closer. “Show me what to do, and I’ll be the best assistant you’ve ever had.”

You finally glanced up at him, your expression skeptical. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.” He grinned, unflinching. “C’mon, Nurse. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You sighed, gesturing toward the supplies. “Fine. Hand me the gauze.”

Bucky’s grin widened as he moved to your side, and for the next few minutes, he actually did as he was told, passing you tools and supplies with surprising care. But of course, it didn’t take long for him to start talking again.

“So,” he began, his tone light, “you always this serious, or is it just an act?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Maybe I’m trying to keep certain soldiers in line.”

“Ah, so I’m a bad influence,” he teased, leaning a little closer. “Good to know.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, trying not to let his proximity affect you. “You’re definitely something.”

The playful banter continued, but beneath it all, you felt the weight of unspoken truths. Every moment with Bucky was a reminder of what you couldn’t have, of the life you were just passing through. But for now, in the fleeting quiet of the field hospital, you allowed yourself to enjoy his presence.

Just for a little while.

The sun was setting, painting the horizon in hues of gold and crimson. The camp had grown quieter, the hum of daily activity fading as the soldiers took what little rest they could before nightfall. You were sitting on a wooden crate just outside the medical tent, enjoying a rare moment of stillness. A cup of lukewarm coffee sat in your hands, its warmth a small comfort against the cool evening air.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke the silence, and you didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Mind if I join you?” Bucky’s voice was softer than usual, lacking its usual teasing edge.

You glanced at him, your heart giving a small, inexplicable flutter. “It’s a free camp,” you said, gesturing to the crate beside you.

Bucky sat down with a tired sigh, his helmet resting on his lap. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet settling comfortably between you. He looked different in the fading light—less like the cocky sergeant who flirted with you during the day and more like the weary soldier you knew he was. His eyes were distant, reflecting the weight of battles fought and losses endured.

“You don’t talk much about yourself,” he said after a while, his voice thoughtful. “Most of the nurses here, they talk about home, family. You… you’re a mystery.”

You kept your gaze on the horizon, your grip tightening slightly on the cup. “Maybe I just don’t have much to tell.”

“Everyone’s got a story,” he countered, glancing at you. “Even ghosts.”

Your heart skipped at the word, but you kept your expression neutral. “Ghosts don’t have stories. They just… exist.”

Bucky frowned, leaning forward slightly. “Is that what you think you are? A ghost?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by his insight. He was perceptive, more than you’d expected. Finally, you spoke, your voice low. “I’ve spent a long time learning how to disappear. It’s easier that way.”

Bucky studied you for a moment, his gaze softening. “Easier, maybe. But doesn’t it get lonely?”

You swallowed hard. “Loneliness is part of the job.”

He shook his head, his expression gentle but firm. “Doesn’t have to be.”

You turned to look at him then, your eyes meeting his. There was no teasing now, no flirtation. Just quiet sincerity. It made your chest ache in a way you hadn’t expected.

“I don’t really have anyone to talk about,” you admitted after a moment. “No family, not that I remember. My parents… I don’t even know their names.”

Bucky’s expression shifted, his eyes filled with empathy. “Were you… a orphan?”

You hesitated, the term feeling both accurate and not. “Something like that. I was raised by people who didn’t care about who I was, only what I could do for them.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than you’d intended, but Bucky didn’t shy away from them. His gaze softened further, and he nodded slowly. “That’s a hell of a way to grow up,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

You shrugged, trying to deflect the weight of the conversation. “It made me good at what I do.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, his voice tinged with something that sounded like regret. “But it doesn’t mean you deserved it.”

You looked away, unsure how to respond. Empathy wasn’t something you were used to, especially not from someone like him—someone who seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, even in the middle of a war.

After a long pause, Bucky spoke again, his voice softer this time. “You remind me of someone.”

You glanced at him, curious. “Who?”

“Steve,” he said with a small, fond smile. “He didn’t have much either. His mom passed not too long ago, and his dad when we were kids. But it's always been just him one way or another just fighting to survive in Brooklyn. Always getting picked on because he’s small, but he never gave up. He had this stubborn streak, always standing up for people, even when it got him into trouble.”

Steve Rogers. Captain America. You knew his story, but hearing Bucky talk about him like this—like he was just Steve, not a legend, because to this Bucky he wasn’t one yet—it painted a different picture.

“Must’ve been tough,” you said softly.

Bucky nodded. “It was. But he never let it break him. That’s just who he is.” He paused, his smile growing a little. “He can't throw a rock without wheezing but he never let that and will never let that stop him.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, the warmth in Bucky’s voice cutting through the weight of the conversation.

“He’s lucky to have you,” you said.

Bucky looked at you, his smile fading into something more thoughtful. “I’m lucky to have him too. He’s always been there, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

The vulnerability in his words mirrored your own, and for a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the weight of your shared pasts hanging between you.

Bucky reached out then, his hand brushing against yours. “You’re not as invisible as you think,” he said softly. “Not to me…I see you Nurse, and the view is amazing”

The camp was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that preceded something terrible. The usual hum of activity had slowed, and even the soldiers seemed more on edge. You felt it too—the tension in the air, the weight of something approaching.

You were in the medical tent, organising supplies when the call came.

“Enemy movement spotted near the south perimeter!” a soldier shouted as he rushed past. “They’re coming!”

Your heart dropped. You knew this moment was inevitable. The enemy had been closing in for days, and now they were here. But it wasn’t just the impending battle that had your stomach in knots. It was the mission—the files.

You quickly grabbed your hidden satchel from beneath your cot. Inside were the tools you’d need to breach the Nazi stronghold, which was now dangerously close to enemy lines. You’d been waiting for this opportunity, but it was coming at the worst possible time. The camp was about to become a battlefield, and every second counted.

Before you could slip away, Bucky stormed into the tent, his rifle slung over his shoulder, his face set in a grim expression.

“There you are,” he said, his eyes scanning you quickly, as if ensuring you were unharmed. “They’ve called all hands. It’s gonna get rough out there.”

“I know,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

He frowned, stepping closer. “You okay?”

You nodded, avoiding his gaze as you tightened the straps on your satchel. “I’ll be fine.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, his suspicion growing. “What’s in the bag?”

You froze for a split second, but it was enough for him to notice.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice low but firm. “What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath, meeting his gaze. “I can’t explain right now. I just… I have to go.”

His jaw tightened. “Go? Where? The perimeter’s crawling with enemy troops, and you’re talking about running off?”

You stepped past him, but he grabbed your arm, his grip firm but not harsh. “Talk to me,” he pleaded. “You’ve been keeping secrets since the day you got here. Please, dont do this….What’s really going on?”

You hesitated, the weight of your mission crashing down on you. Bucky wasn’t supposed to know. No one was. But in this moment, with his piercing gaze locked onto yours, you realized you couldn’t just walk away without saying something.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you said quietly. “I’m not just a nurse. I’m here on a mission.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed “A mission?” confusion and concern mixing in his expression. “What kind of mission?”

You glanced around, ensuring no one else was within earshot. “I can’t tell you everything. But there’s something I need to retrieve from the enemy. It’s vital.”

His grip on your arm tightened slightly. “You’re planning to go out there alone?”

“I have to,” you said, your voice firm. “This is what I was sent here to do.”

Bucky shook his head, his frustration evident. “You’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you even have backup?”

“No,” you admitted. “This mission is off the books.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he exhaled sharply. “That’s insane. You can’t go out there alone.”

“I’ve done it before,” you said, trying to reassure him. “I’ll be fine.”

But Bucky wasn’t convinced. “Not this time,” he said, his voice resolute. “I’m coming with you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes stopped you. He wasn’t going to let you go alone.

“Bucky—”

“No,” he interrupted. “You don’t get to push me away now. If this is as important as you say it is, then you’re gonna need someone watching your back.”

You hesitated, torn between the mission and the growing connection you felt with him. Bringing Bucky along wasn’t part of the plan, but the truth was, you knew he was right. The enemy would be everywhere, and the odds of surviving alone were slim.

“Fine,” you said finally. “But you follow my lead. No questions.”

He gave you a small, determined nod. “Deal.”

Together, you slipped out of the tent and into the night, the distant sound of gunfire growing louder with each step. The mission was about to reach its breaking point, and so was your fragile trust in Bucky.

But there was no turning back now.

The camp was already descending into chaos by the time you and Bucky slipped through the south perimeter. Gunfire echoed in the distance, mingling with the shouts of soldiers and the thunderous roar of artillery. The enemy was closing in fast, and every second felt like borrowed time.

You led the way, keeping low as you navigated the uneven terrain. Bucky followed close behind, his rifle at the ready, his eyes scanning for threats. The weight of your satchel bounced against your side, a constant reminder of the mission’s stakes.

“Where exactly are we going?” Bucky asked in a hushed voice as you reached a narrow trail leading toward the enemy-occupied forest.

“There’s a stronghold about a mile from here,” you replied, keeping your voice low. “That’s where they’re keeping the files.”

He gave you a skeptical look but didn’t press further. “And how do you know this?”

You hesitated. “Let’s just say I have access to intel most people don’t.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Fine. I’ll trust you.”

The tension between you was palpable, but there was no time to unpack it. You pressed on, the shadows of the trees swallowing you both as you moved deeper into enemy territory.

The stronghold loomed ahead, a dark silhouette against the night sky. It was an old stone fortress, fortified with barbed wire and patrolled by armed guards. You and Bucky crouched behind a cluster of bushes, observing the layout.

“Two guards at the main entrance,” Bucky whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “And a patrol circling every few minutes.”

You nodded, scanning the area. “There’s a side entrance near the east wall. It’s less guarded, but we’ll have to time it perfectly.”

Bucky smirked slightly. “You’ve done this before.”

“More times than I care to admit,” you replied, keeping your eyes on the patrols. “Ready?”

“Always.”

Together, you moved swiftly and silently, sticking to the shadows. When the patrol passed, you darted toward the east wall, Bucky covering your six. The side entrance was a narrow metal door, rusted and worn. You pulled a small device from your satchel, a compact tool designed to pick even the most secure locks. Within seconds, the door clicked open.

“Impressive,” Bucky murmured as you slipped inside.

You gave him a quick look. “Focus.”

Inside, the stronghold was cold and dimly lit, the corridors eerily quiet. You navigated the labyrinthine hallways with precision, your memory of the layout guiding you. Bucky stayed close, his rifle raised and ready.

Finally, you reached a secured room at the end of a long hallway. A heavy steel door stood between you and your objective.

“This is it,” you whispered, pulling out another device from your satchel. It was a miniature explosive, designed to breach the door without causing a large-scale alert.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly. “You really came prepared.”

“Like I said,” you replied, placing the explosive, “I’ve done this before.”

The device beeped softly as you set the timer. “Stand back.”

The explosion was quick and precise, the door blasting inward with minimal noise. You and Bucky rushed inside, your eyes immediately scanning the room. It was filled with filing cabinets and stacks of documents, the enemy’s plans meticulously organized.

You went to work, quickly locating the files you needed. As you stuffed them into your satchel, Bucky kept watch by the door.

“So this is what all the secrecy was about?” he asked, his voice low but tense.

“These files could change everything,” you said, your hands moving quickly. “If they fall into the wrong hands, it could shift the balance of power for decades.”

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. “Then we make sure they don’t.”

Just as you secured the last of the files, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“Time to go,” Bucky said, his grip tightening on his rifle.

You nodded, and together you slipped out of the room, moving quickly and quietly through the stronghold. But as you reached the exit, the footsteps grew louder, closer. The guards were on high alert now.

“We’re not gonna make it out the way we came,” Bucky muttered, his eyes scanning for another escape route.

You pointed to a nearby staircase. “There’s a secondary exit through the upper level. It leads to the roof.”

Bucky nodded, and the two of you raced up the stairs, your boots barely making a sound on the worn stone steps. At the top, you found the door to the roof. It was locked, but Bucky didn’t hesitate. He slammed his shoulder into it, forcing it open with a grunt.

The night air hit you like a wall as you stepped onto the roof. Below, the camp was in chaos, enemy soldiers scrambling in response to the breach.

“There,” Bucky said, pointing to a nearby tree line. “We jump, head for cover.”

You hesitated, the drop from the roof to the ground far from ideal. But there was no time to argue. With a nod, you followed Bucky as he leapt, landing with a roll in the soft dirt below. You hit the ground a moment later, pain shooting through your legs as you landed hard but kept moving.

Together, you sprinted toward the trees, gunfire erupting behind you. Bullets whizzed past, but you didn’t stop, adrenaline driving you forward. Finally, you reached the cover of the forest, the sounds of pursuit growing fainter.

Once you were safely concealed among the trees, you collapsed against a trunk, your breath coming in heavy gasps. Bucky crouched beside you, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of pursuit.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded, clutching the satchel tightly. “Mission accomplished.”

Bucky gave a small, breathless laugh. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You met his gaze, the tension of the moment fading slightly as his familiar smirk returned. “So are you, Sergeant.”

Despite the danger, despite everything, you felt a flicker of warmth between you. The mission had tested both your resolve and your connection, but you’d made it out together. And somehow, that made all the difference.

The firelight flickered across the camp, casting long shadows as the remnants of the battle settled into an uneasy calm. You and Bucky sat on the edge of the forest, just beyond the perimeter, hidden from sight. The distant sound of gunfire and shouting had finally faded, leaving only the quiet hum of the night.

The stolen Nazi files were secure in your satchel, now buried beneath layers of medical supplies. You’d succeeded in your mission, but the cost weighed heavily on your shoulders.

Bucky sat beside you, silent for a long time. His rifle was propped against a tree, his hands resting on his knees. The tension between you had shifted—no longer marked by suspicion but by a shared understanding.

“You really weren’t kidding about being a ghost,” he said eventually, his voice low and thoughtful.

You glanced at him, the flickering firelight catching the sharp angles of his face. “I told you it was important.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah. But you didn’t tell me everything.”

You looked away, the weight of his words settling over you. “I couldn’t.”

“Why?” His voice was soft, but there was an edge of frustration. “Because you didn’t trust me?”

“It’s not about trust,” you said quietly, your fingers tightening around the satchel. “It’s about the mission. It’s about keeping things safe.”

Bucky frowned, his gaze searching your face. “Safe from what?”

You hesitated, carefully choosing your words. “From things that could change everything if they’re not handled right.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, the soldier in him catching on to the weight behind your statement. “Sounds like more than just some stolen files.”

“It is,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky was silent for a moment, processing your words. Finally, he spoke, his voice tinged with awe and concern. “And you’ve been doing this alone?”

“It’s what I was trained for,” you said, your tone matter-of-fact. “No attachments, no distractions. Just the mission.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “That’s no way to live.”

You looked at him, surprised by the intensity in his voice. “It’s the only way I know.”

He shook his head, his expression softening. “You’re more than just a mission, you know. You’ve got a life, a soul. You can’t keep shutting people out.”

Your chest tightened at his words. For so long, you’d lived in the shadows, carrying the burden of your missions alone. But now, sitting here with Bucky, you felt the cracks in your armor growing wider.

“I’m not supposed to get attached,” you said quietly. “It makes things complicated.”

Bucky gave a small, rueful smile. “Too late for that….”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You felt a surge of emotion, a mix of fear and longing. You’d spent years building walls, but Bucky Barnes was breaking through them with every shared glance, every quiet moment.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s hand stayed on yours, steady and grounding. His touch was gentle, but there was strength behind it, a quiet reassurance that you weren’t used to.

“You don’t have to do it alone. I’m here, you know?” his voice soft but resolute. “I’m in this.”

You looked down at your joined hands, the firelight reflecting off his metal fingers. It felt like he was holding more than just your hand—like he was holding the weight of everything you’d been carrying for so long.

“I’ve never had this before,” you said, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what it’s like to lean on someone, to let someone in.”

Bucky’s thumb traced small, soothing circles on the back of your hand. “It’s not easy,” he admitted. “But it’s worth it. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, the vulnerability of the moment making your chest ache. “What if I’m not good at it? What if I mess this up?”

Bucky leaned closer, his voice low and steady. “You won’t. And even if you stumble, I’ll be right here. We’ll figure it out together.”

His words broke through the last of your defenses, and a tear slipped down your cheek. Bucky’s other hand came up, his thumb gently wiping it away. His touch was so tender, it made your heart ache even more.

“You’ve been through so much,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of his words settling over you. “Bucky…”

He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against yours. “You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered. “Just let me be here for you.”

The two of you sat there in silence, the fire crackling softly in the background. The world outside the camp seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the quiet comfort of the moment.

After a while, you finally spoke, your voice barely audible. “You’ve made me feel something I didn’t think I could feel.”

Bucky pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “What’s that?”

“Hope,” you said, the word feeling both fragile and powerful.

His lips curved into a soft, bittersweet smile. “Then we’ve got something to hold on to.”

Without thinking, you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. It was soft and tentative, a promise of something deeper. When you pulled back, his eyes were shining, and you could see the depth of his feelings mirrored in them.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “One step at a time.”

You nodded, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through. “Together.”

Bucky squeezed your hand, his warmth chasing away the chill of the night. “Together,” he echoed.

And in that moment, with the firelight flickering around you and the weight of your shared pasts slowly lifting, you believed him.

In the days following the mission, the dynamic between you and Bucky began to change. There was a newfound understanding between you, a quiet bond forged in the heat of battle and the weight of shared secrets.

Bucky became more protective, often finding excuses to check in on you, whether it was during your rounds at the medical tent or when you were working alone. His teasing remarks were still there, but they were softer now, laced with genuine care.

You found yourself leaning on him more, allowing him into the parts of your life you’d always kept hidden. And despite the danger, despite the mission’s stakes, you had the files you could go back now and have exiled beating your initial time, but you stayed you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, you’d found something worth holding onto.

But in the back of your mind, you knew the clock was ticking. The mission was complete, and soon, you’d have to leave this time, this world—and Bucky—behind.

The glow of the fire illuminated the night, the crackle the only sound cutting through. Most of the camp had settled in for the evening, but you and Bucky remained near the fire, sitting side by side on a fallen log. The warm glow danced across his face, softening the sharp angles and making his eyes shimmer like the stars above.

Bucky leaned back slightly, resting his arm along the log behind you. “So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked with a playful smirk, his voice low and smooth.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Really? That’s the line you’re going with….again?”

He grinned, his teeth catching the firelight. “What can I say? I’m trying to impress the mysterious nurse who keeps patching me up .”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to get on my good side.”

“Is it working?” he asked, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

You glanced at him, your heart skipping a beat. “Maybe.”

Bucky’s grin softened into something more sincere. His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, the weight of the war, the mission, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, suspended in this fleeting moment of peace.

He reached up, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmured.

You felt your breath catch, your pulse quickening. “Bucky…”

“I mean it,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’re strong, smart, brave… and you’ve got this way of making me forget everything else, even when the world’s falling apart.”

His words broke through the walls you’d spent years building. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, and he met you halfway. His lips were warm and soft against yours, the kiss tender but filled with a quiet intensity. Time seemed to stop as the world melted away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady beat of his heart.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were wet with tears. Bucky frowned, his thumb gently brushing your cheek.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, struggling to find the words. “I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Bucky’s expression softened, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on your cheeks. “Then let me show you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his own tears on his waterline threatening to spill. “Stay. Please stay, for me.”

Your heart shattered at his plea. The sincerity in his eyes, the quiet desperation in his voice—it was almost too much to bear. But you couldn’t. Not when you knew the mission, the weight of your responsibilities, and the secrets you carried. You’d always been a ghost, moving through life without leaving traces behind. How could you let yourself stay, knowing the danger you brought with you?

“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed, his hands dropping slightly. “Why not? What’s stopping you?”

You looked away, tears streaming down your face. “Because… I don’t get to have this,” you said quietly. “People like me… we don’t get happy endings.”

Bucky stared at you, his jaw tightening. “That’s bullshit,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “You deserve this just as much as anyone else.”

You shook your head, your hands trembling. “You don’t understand—if I stay, things could fall apart. I’m not meant to… to put down roots. To belong.”

Bucky reached for your hand, holding it tightly. “If that’s what you’ve been told, they’re wrong. You don’t have to carry all of this alone. Whatever’s weighing on you… let me help.”

You squeezed his hand, your tears falling freely now. “I wish I could. But this isn’t goodbye, Bucky. Not really.”

His grip tightened, his eyes filled with pain. “How do you know?”

You gave him a shaky smile, your heart aching. “Because feeling this… it’s the kind of thing that changes everything. No matter where life takes us, I’ll find you again. I promise.”

Bucky pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he could keep you from slipping away. His breath was warm against your hair, and for a moment, you let yourself believe in the impossible. In a different world, maybe you could stay. Maybe you could let yourself love him the way you wanted to.

But for now, you clung to him, memorising the feel of his embrace, the sound of his heartbeat. This wasn’t the end. You wouldn’t let it be.

The fire burned low, its warmth fading, but neither of you moved. Instead, you lay back together on a blanket you’d pulled from the medical tent. The stars stretched endlessly above, their light soft and comforting.

Bucky shifted, his arm wrapping protectively around you as you rested your head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, grounding you in the moment. He let out a soft sigh, his voice breaking the silence.

“When I was a kid, Steve and I used to sneak up onto the roof of our building,” he said quietly. “We’d lie there, looking at the stars, talking about all the things we were gonna do someday.”

You smiled faintly, imagining a pre-serum Steve beside him, small but full of fight. “What did you talk about?”

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and fond. “Steve always had big dreams. He wanted to do something that mattered. Join the army, help people, change the world.” He paused, his voice softening. “Didn’t care that he was too small, too sick. He just wanted to be better, to do better.”

You closed your eyes, the image of Steve Rogers—Captain America—so different now. But to Bucky, he was still that skinny kid with more heart than anyone.

“And what about you?” you asked gently.

Bucky hesitated, his hand absently tracing small circles on your shoulder. “Me? I just wanted to keep him safe. Steve’s always been the brave one. I just… I wanted to make sure he didn’t get himself killed chasing those dreams.”

His words were filled with so much quiet love, it made your heart ache. You lifted your head slightly, meeting his gaze. “You’re braver than you give yourself credit for.”

Bucky smiled, his hand brushing over your hair. “Maybe. But I think you’re the brave one here.”

You rested your head against his chest again, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. “We both are.”

The silence stretched once more, comfortable and grounding. The crackle of the fire and the distant sounds of the camp blended with the soft rustle of the trees.

Bucky’s voice broke the stillness. “Did you have someone like that?” he asked, his tone thoughtful. “A sibling? A close friend?”

You paused, your mind drifting back. “I didn’t have siblings,” you said slowly. “But I had a friend. Her name’s Natasha.” You smiled softly at the memory, though a hint of sadness crept into your voice. “She was like a sister to me. Strong, stubborn, always looking out for me.”

Bucky’s eyes softened. “She sounds like someone you could count on.”

“She was,” you said, your voice tinged with regret. “We went through a lot together, but… I haven’t seen her in years.”

He squeezed your shoulder gently. “Think you’ll see her again?”

You stared up at the stars, your heart heavy with longing. “I hope so. But with the way things are… who knows?”

Bucky nodded, his thumb brushing over your arm in a soothing motion. “If she’s anything like you, she’s still out there, fighting her own battles. And when the time’s right, you’ll find your way back to each other.”

You swallowed hard, his words offering a comfort you didn’t realize you needed. “I hope you’re right.”

The two of you fell into silence again, but it wasn’t empty. The weight of your shared stories, your losses and hopes, filled the space between you.

As the night deepened, you knew this moment wouldn’t last forever. But for now, you let yourself have it, holding onto Bucky like he was your anchor in a storm you couldn’t escape. Beneath the stars, in the quiet of the night, the war and the mission felt distant, like a different world entirely.

You stood near the edge of the camp, the glow of the setting sun casting long shadows across the field. The soldiers of the 107th were regrouping, preparing to move out. You spotted Bucky in the distance, his silhouette unmistakable as he spoke with his men. His voice was calm, commanding, but you could see the tension in his posture. He was ready for the next fight, even if his heart wasn’t.

And so were you.

You adjusted the strap of your satchel, your fingers brushing over the hidden compartment containing the files. This would be your last night here. By dawn, you’d be gone, pulled back to the time you belonged. Everything you’d built here—every connection, every moment—would be left behind.

But Bucky.

He made his way toward you, each step heavy with the knowledge of what was about to happen. When he stopped in front of you, the space between you felt impossibly small yet vast, like an ocean you were both struggling to cross.

“You’re leaving,” he said, his voice low, not a question but a statement, tinged with quiet resignation.

You nodded, your throat tight. “I have to.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with emotions he wasn’t voicing. He looked down for a moment, then slowly reached up, pulling something from around his neck. His dog tags caught the fading light as they dangled from his fingers, the metal clinking softly.

He held them out to you, his hand steady even as his voice wavered. “Take these.”

You stared at the tags, your heart twisting. “Bucky, I can’t—”

“Please,” he interrupted, his gaze locking onto yours. “I want you to have them, please”

You hesitated, the weight of the moment settling over you. These weren’t just tags. They were a piece of him, a symbol of his identity, of the man he was here and now. Taking them felt like crossing a line you weren’t sure you could bear.

But when you looked into his eyes, the quiet plea there shattered any resistance you had. Slowly, you reached out and took the tags, the cool metal pressing into your palm. Your fingers curled around them tightly, as if holding onto them would somehow keep him closer.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Bucky gave a small, sad smile, his hand brushing against yours briefly before he let it fall. “Just… promise me you won’t forget.”

Your chest tightened, tears welling in your eyes. “I couldn’t if I tried.”

The silence stretched between you, filled with everything you couldn’t say. You wanted to tell him how much he meant to you, how this short time together had changed something inside you. But the words stuck in your throat, buried under the weight of your mission and the future you knew awaited him.

Bucky reached up, gently cupping your face with one hand, his thumb brushing away a tear that slipped down your cheek. “You’ve been trained to disappear,” he said softly, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “But not from me.”

You choked back a sob, your hands gripping the dog tags like a lifeline. “I’ve never had this before,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I don’t know how to say goodbye.”

His hand slipped down, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Then don’t,” he whispered, begging one last time. “Stay. Please. Stay for me.”

Your heart broke at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through every defense you had left. But you knew you couldn’t. Staying here would risk everything—the mission, the future, his life.

“I can’t,” you said, your voice cracking. “I wish I could, but you know I can’t.”

Bucky’s grip tightened on your hand, his eyes searching yours for something, anything to hold onto. “Why?” he asked, his voice raw. “Why does it have to be like this?”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Because this isn’t my time, this isn’t our time” you said quietly.

Bucky’s eyes glistened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue, to beg you to stay again. But instead, he nodded slowly, his hand lingering on yours for a heartbeat longer.

“Then I’ll wait,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination. “No matter how long it takes.”

Tears streamed down your face as you gave him a shaky smile. “You won’t have to wait forever.”

With one last, lingering glance, Bucky leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. The warmth of his lips, the steady presence of his touch, imprinted itself in your memory, a moment you knew you’d carry with you for the rest of your life.

When he pulled back, he let his hand fall, his eyes never leaving yours. “Take care of yourself doll,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

“You too,” you whispered, clutching the dog tags close to your heart.

And then, with every ounce of strength you had left, you turned and walked away. You didn’t look back, knowing that if you did, you might never be able to leave. But with every step, the weight of his dog tags in your hand was a promise—a tether that would guide you back to him.

I could feel you sneaking in, As if you were a mythical thing

[hford0311]

Dating 1940s Bucky Barnes Headcanon

He'd do anything to make you laugh. Any price to pay to make your smile cross your face, he'd pay the price.

~~ You'd simply be looking at him intently during your dinner date. "What? Is something on my face?" He'd wiped his face. Then take a bite of his food, purposefully missing and getting sauce on his face. Giggles would erupt form you. "Okay, now I definitely do."

~~If he ever sensed that you were uneasy, would softly nudge you to get your attention off of whatever it was and make the silliest faces. If that didn't work, it would lead to some goofy dance moves, occasionally dragging you into them with him.

Bucky performed ALL of the romantic, old-fashioned gentleman ways of doing things.

~~ An unavoidable puddle? No match for Mr. Barnes. You'd begin to carefully step over the stream of water coming from the previous rain. "Oh, no, doll," He chided. Bucky would wrap his arms around you, pressing your body to his chest and take his not-as-large steps over the temporary river. "Can't let my best girl ruin her shoes."

~~A personal delivery of flowers at least once a week would come to your work. He'd have a huge smirk on his face when your co-workers roll their eyes and just let him go to your work station. When he was asked why he did that, he would say that he just wants to see you smile.

Soft peppery kisses. Every. Where.

~~Dropping you off at your door after a date-- kisses on forehead and lips. Gentle, passionate, controlled. Limited so that way your parents wouldn't get too worried about you "hanging around that boy."

~~Anytime he caught you crying, he'd kiss those tears away. He'd softly soothe you with confirmations and other words of comfort.

~~Out dancing-- out of breath lips that meet each other many times. When other men glance your way, he instantly wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your cheek, lips that inch closer to your lips when they don't look away. He'd also whisper the sweetest things while he did.

~~Ooh but when he found the bruises scattered on your body from whatever fall or bump-- it wasn't just the bruises he would kiss, but all the skin around them. "Can't make the not bruised skin jealous, but I also need to help the bruises go away." He'd say when he looked up at you with a break between the kisses.

[sweetiebarnes]

TOUCH

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky knows exactly how to help you relax on top of the Ferris wheel.

Word Count: 400+

Warnings: 40s Bucky (he’s a warning), pet name (doll), exhibitionism, fingering (f in v), implied orgasm, mention of loss of virginity

 AN: Please do not report this! It’s so frustrating to have things reported. If I missed any warnings you feel should be listed, please let me know. 

18+ ONLY

Your heart raced as the Ferris wheel began to move. You aren’t quite sure how Bucky convinced you to go on this thing. But it always seemed like all he had to do was flash that smile, and you quickly became putty in his hands.

“Just relax, doll.” He cooed as he wrapped his arm around you. “I promise, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” You desperately wanted to believe him, but as the two of you rose higher up in the air, his words became harder to believe. 

A thought popped into his head when Bucky realized there was no chance you’d be relaxing soon. He knew exactly how to make you relax. 

“Close your eyes for me,” he whispered into your ear. He didn’t have to tell you twice as you quickly shut your eyes. The next thing that he did caused you to gasp. His hand slowly made its way up your thigh to your cloth-covered mound. 

“Bucky!” you gasp, clamping your thighs together, locking his hand between your thighs. “We can’t do that here.” 

“Of course, we can. No one will know.” As he moves his finger beneath the band of your panties, you know there’s no use in arguing. He could already feel how soaked you were. The truth was, you always loved being adventurous with him. After all, the two of you lost your virginities together in the back seat of his car at the drive-in. 

So, here you two are, stuck on top of the Ferris wheel. You give him a slight nod, which only causes his smirk to grow. “We’ll have to be quick, doll.” He shoots you another wink before his long finger pushes between your folds. 

It takes everything in you not to moan, but it feels like Bucky wants you to moan. He doesn’t care if people hear you. No, he wants them to. He wants the whole carnival to know what he does to you. He wants the world to see that you belong to him and him alone. And as he curls his finger deep inside you, that’s exactly what happens. A loud, drawn-out moan leaves your lips. 

No longer were you afraid of this ride. The only thing on your mind now was how good his finger felt. His thumb moves to your clit, causing moans and profanities to leave your lips. God, Bucky loved seeing you like this. The memory of you coming undone because of him was something he’d be taking with him overseas. 

He didn’t know what the future held, but he knew one thing for sure. He needed you, and you needed him. 

[hellsbedroom]

testing 1 2…testing 1 2

testing to see if this blog can still make posts that get into the tags…..

cause I’ve got some Bucky stuff I need to get out into the world :)

[marvelsgirl616]

Logan and Bucky 🥹❤️ || Hellhunters #1

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

Bucky love for you. ❤️

Those Three Words

Pairing || 1940s!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary || A beautiful declaration of love.

Word Count || Around 400

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, Mild Smut — implied sex.

Authors Note || Yay Bucky! He’s always precious <3 Thank you Navy! Had to do a drabble for 40s Bucky because of that gif <3

1940s!Bucky Masterlist

It’s been hours. Hours of you and Bucky rolling around in the bedroom sheets, deep into the night.

You couldn’t get enough of each other. Couldn’t get enough of your skin touching, the taste of one another, the breathless words of pleasure as you and he lost count of how many times you reached euphoria together.

Once you were both happy and satisfied with your prolonged adventure of mind-blowing sex, you held each other close under the protective bubble of the sheets.

His body lay tight against yours, facing each other as your foreheads brushed. The palm of his hand cradled your face, his thumb stroking your cheek lovingly. His other trailing delicate fingers up and down your spine. Your skin felt warm and fuzzy as he touched you so gently after his rough and determined behavior previous.

His eyes. You could get lost in them, drown in those perfect blues forever as they gazed into yours. They held nothing but love and affection for you—only you.

“I love you, doll. I’ve done so for some time now. I’ve never felt more alive and happy when I’m with you. You’re the love of my life, darling. You’ve touched my soul like no one ever has.”

Your heart burst with happiness as he finally said those three words to you, declaring his undying love for you. You’ve wanted to share those words with him for some time now but were too afraid to do so, worrying that there was a chance that he didn’t feel the same for you in that way, despite all the clear signs that he did indeed.

You rubbed your nose against him as you smiled in glee, cupping your hands around his neck to play with his hair at the back of it and snuggling even further into his naked embrace.

“Words can’t explain how much I love you, Bucky. It’s beyond what I can ever express. But I’ll spend the rest of our lives together trying to convey just how much as best I can.”

You both leaned in until your lips touched, softly and gently, sealing your words together in a forever pact with a kiss of love and joy.

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

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[jadedvibes]

Promises

Summary: You’ve been arranged to marry someone else, but with only one night left before Bucky redeploys, you decide to make a few memories you know you'll never forget.

Pairing: Soft Dark 1940s!Bucky x reader

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, oral (f), unprotected sex, loss of virginity, corruption kink, slight dub-con, a little sub!bucky, innocent!reader, arranged marriage plans, swearing, pet names, fluffy feels, angst, manipulation, dark!bucky, 1940’s au.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Hi @mickeyhenrys, I am your secret santa! 🎅❤️ Hope you enjoy this soft dark fic that incorporates a Christmas Party/Mistletoe to fit my prompts🎄And a big thank you to @late-to-the-party-81 for coordinating this Tis the Season to be Thot-y challenge!

Like, comment, and/or reblog to put a giant smile on my face ♡

The annual Hodge Christmas Eve party was always all the rage, the whole neighborhood vied for an invitation to attend the grandiose and lively gathering. Your family had always wanted to attend, and this year was particularly special because an agreement had been made and an invitation was extended. 

The families spoke and you were promised to marry Gilmore Hodge, the son of the town's most successful businessman. Your father was ecstatic that Gilmore’s parents agreed because he knew you’d be well taken care of for the rest of your life. The Hodges’ were happy with the arrangement because your reputation was exactly what they wanted for their son. Your mother taught you the ways of proper homemaking, ensuring you had every domestic duty down perfectly. Together with that, you were obedient and lovely, but most importantly you were chaste. The ideal package for a favorable young man. 

After spending some time being excessively primped by your mother to look your best for your future family, and finally putting on your prettiest white dress, you were ready to go. This was what you had to do, it was your duty as a daughter, and defiance wasn’t your strong suit. Plus Gilmore was a hero, after returning home from the war he had earned even more respect than his great family name afforded him — he was an exemplary suitor. You would learn to care for him in time. 

However, the engagement had yet to occur, and your families had only just completed their negotiations. The party gave you and your parents the opportunity to see what the Hodge family was like up close; although it didn’t weigh very much in terms of what was already decided. You were told that you were extremely fortunate to be chosen for their beloved son. There was a line a mile long to even be considered for him, but you were the kindest and the purest of them all —it could only be you.

So you were going to put on a big smile and spend the evening rubbing elbows with the high class folks Gilmore’s family socialized with, because it was your responsibility.

The main thing that had you actually excited about going to the party was that you knew your wonderful old friend Bucky Barnes would be making an appearance. Throughout the years you had kept in touch through letters, and he recently wrote to you letting you know that he’d be there; saying he knew Gilmore from his time in the service, and that he was looking forward to seeing you. 

As a kid you always had the biggest crush on the guy because he was so effortlessly charming yet still adorably nerdy, the perfect combination. He was a constant in your life, and you weren’t willing to give him up, so regular letters helped keep you tethered together despite the distance. Somehow through every candid letter you felt yourself grow closer to Bucky, even closer than you were when he was still back home. His honesty, his vulnerability, his hope to see you again — it made you cherish him all the more.

Your mother knew about your elation over seeing him, especially given his valiant return from the war as well, but she urged you to be coy and downplay your enthusiasm. She didn’t want you to upset anyone in a way that could thwart her plans for your future. 

Bucky had a good reputation growing up, and your parents took no issue with you having him as a friend. But that’s all it was ever allowed to be.

While you secretly wished for a different reality, you couldn’t help but feel euphoric about at least getting to spend some time with Bucky, the sweet guy you always wished your parents took an interest in. Nevertheless, it couldn’t happen, he didn’t come from enough according to your father. It didn’t matter that he was smart, and kind, and everything you ever wanted. 

None of it mattered. Bucky would deploy again soon, so you had to have a memorable last night in his company. You didn’t understand how returning to the war worked, but that’s what he wrote in his last letter. The two of you would only have this one night to see each other.

Upon arrival at the party you made your greetings with the Hodge family, graciously speaking to them and then eventually Gilmore, who already had a couple girls vying for his attention. He was polite, but cared far more about returning to his little raving fan club. You couldn’t blame them, not everyone knew about your arrangement and he did look nice in his uniform. The snub stung a little, but you figured things would be different once you were married. 

Sitting with your mother by a warm roaring fireplace, you spoke to some other women that had arrived with their families. Chatter was lively, with beautiful jazz ballads drifting throughout the grand property; setting the ambience just right. There was a good reason everyone wanted to attend this party, the food was delicious, the decorations along with the christmas tree extravagant, and the company among the best known in Brooklyn. 

Your body buzzed with excitement and anticipation, knowing that any minute Bucky would arrive. Trying to stay calm, you focused on socializing to distract yourself, but it didn’t help. It had been so long since you’d seen him, your heart didn’t know how to play it cool. 

However, all that anxiety dissipated the moment he stepped in the room, his eyes immediately finding yours; you felt yourself and the energy calm around you — it was only you and him. 

Minding your manners you gave him a cordial nod before excusing yourself and seeking out a more quiet place to greet him. You smiled politely at the guests you passed as you made your way towards a quiet secluded hallway, all the while knowing you wouldn’t be alone for long. 

Bucky smirked, stepping into the empty corridor, away from prying eyes and the loud music. “Didn’t want to talk to me out there with everyone else, doll?” 

Finally seeing him for the first time in years, you dropped your proper facade and threw your arms around his neck, clinging to him. “Didn’t want to share is all,” you breathed, squeezing him tight. He held onto you with equal ardor, before you finally pulled back to get a good look at him. 

You’d only known from his letter that he’d make an appearance at the party, you hadn’t heard his voice or seen him in the flesh for far too long. He still looked like the sweet boy you always adored, but something about him seemed different. His aura didn’t feel as light as you once remembered it to be, but perhaps you were imagining things. Given all that he’d been through you could understand if some things changed. 

But then he spoke and you remembered that he was still your Bucky.

“I missed you so much,” he cupped the sides of your face and smiled broadly. “You’ve gotten even more beautiful, doll. Didn’t know that was possible.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks at his kind words. Shaking your head you smiled shyly before taking him in some more. He looked so handsome in his dress uniform, a touch more mature and muscular too — but still your Bucky. “How have you been?” you beamed.

“I’m alright, happy I get to see you,” he trailed his fingers down your arms before finally holding your hands in his. 

“Can you stay long?” 

Bucky shook his head. “No, I have to get back and get ready to ship out bright and early tomorrow.” 

“Oh,” you breathed, disappointment running across your features before you remembered to put on a brave face. If time was that limited then you’d make sure every moment was a positive one. 

He brought up a hand and traced his thumb over your cheekbone softly, dark blue eyes admiring you. “Glad I got to see you and say goodbye,” he gave you a small smile before stepping back and putting his hands behind his back, subtly distancing himself from you. He couldn’t get too close, he knew about the arrangement you had with Gilmore. 

You furrowed your brows at his stiffness, things weren’t like this before. “We’ve barely even caught up, what’s the rush? Who knows how long it’ll be this time.” Or if he’d even return. 

“I can’t, doll.” Bucky knew he shouldn’t be alone with you, yet he also knew for certain that he couldn’t go on knowing that soon you’d belong to someone else. 

“C’mon Sarge, you’ve gotta give me something to remember you by,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. “I can think of one thing that I could give you before some USO girl gets her hands on you,” you grabbed his hand and led him down a quiet hallway. Mrs. Hodge had given you the grand tour, and you knew your way around already. Her attention to detail with decorations throughout the home was commendable, just as her hospitality. 

“What is it?” he smirked, disregarding the quip. The USO girl’s always paled in comparison to you. There wouldn't be another, there would only be you. 

You tilted your head up at the mistletoe tied with a red bow hanging above the door you’d tugged him towards before meeting his gaze. 

Bucky peeked up before shaking his head at you with a mischievous smile. You weren’t making this easy, so he finally committed to his decision. He’d been tinkering with holding back, but there you were under the soft light, looking so gorgeous in your white chiffon dress. If he could only have this one night with you, he was going to take advantage of it. Stepping towards you, his hand loosely cupped the side of your face, before he leaned in close. “I can think of something more memorable than this, doll. But it’ll do for now,” he breathed against your lips. 

Your heart fluttered in your chest when his warm lips met yours. Certain and deliberate, making you gasp at his confidence. The grip on your face tightened before his lips parted, and suddenly his tongue was sliding along yours, expertly exploring your mouth. No man had ever kissed you like that. No fumbling or hesitancy, only desire in his actions. 

A soft moan slipped past your lips, breaking you out of the impassioned trance you’d fallen under with Bucky, reminding you that you were at a lively Christmas party. If someone had stumbled over and seen that little display of public affection they would inevitably gossip about you; leading to major consequences if your parents or worse, if the Hodge’s heard about it. 

“I have to go,” you whispered, stepping towards him to get away. 

“Why?” his hands found your waist, keeping you trussed up against the door. 

Your fingertips rose to touch your lips, still tingling because of him. “Bucky, they can’t see us like that. It– it was a bad idea.” You’d never been kissed with such passion and it made you feel things. Things you knew you shouldn’t for a man you weren't promised to — even if he was the only man you ever wanted a future with. 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

“Bucky.”

“What happened to ‘Sarge’?” He raised an eyebrow, his hands slowly wrapping around your body. “Thought you might give me an order or two, using my rank and all,” he grinned. 

You couldn’t help but crack a smile. “You know we shouldn’t, you know I’m–“

“I know about the arrangement, doll. I know that soon you’ll be married. But I also know that I’m leaving tomorrow and I might not make it back,” he looked at you solemnly.

“Oh, Bucky,” you frowned. “I know. I wish I knew what to say. Is there any way I can make this last night a good one for you?” you asked with hopeful eyes. 

His eyes darkened, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “I can think of a few ways.”

“Like what?” you tilted your head.

“We can start with you giving me an order,” he quirked an eyebrow. 

Taking a quick peek around to make sure you were alone, you placed your arms around his neck once you ensured the coast was clear. “Are you good at taking orders, Sarge?” you asked sweetly. Maybe you could get him to give you a couple more of those kisses that made you tingle. 

“Wanna find out?” he nodded towards the door. 

“You wanna go in there?” your eyes darted around. You’d never been in this kind of situation, unsupervised no less. It was unlikely anyone would notice you were missing for long, but the uncertainty of what might happen if you were alone with him made you nervous. 

He shrugged with a lopsided grin, it’d have to do for now. You deserved far better than a rushed hookup, and one day he’d give it to you. But on this special night in your company, he had to improvise. 

Biting your lip, you nodded your head before turning around as he opened the door into the small room. 

“This can be our little secret,” he suggested as he followed in after you. 

Secrets were good, no one had to know, this would be okay. 

Butterflies were in your stomach, your heartbeat erratically thumping in your chest, but then his familiar blue eyes were on you, and your apprehension slowly melted away. You trusted him with your life, you always could, and if tonight was the last night you had with him, then it ought to be an unforgettable one. 

“I’d like that,” you hesitantly tugged at his lapel, bringing his lips back to yours. His hands drifted down your body, tightening the hold as they finally settled on your hips. The chatter down the hall, the music drifting through the house, it all faded away. Tongues tangled, bodies pressing up against one another. Nothing but the present moment filled your senses; a moment years in the making. It was always supposed to be Bucky, at least for the first time. 

Bucky sure knew how to kiss a girl speechless. When his hands drifted around and a little lower, you were too caught up to protest, not that you really would anyways. Swiftly he tugged you even closer, hands possessively on your ass, his hardened length pressed against your torso. 

The sudden shock of it all made you gasp against his lips. This was wrong, and deep down you knew that. But you’d never been embraced like this, never felt wanted in this way, and surely letting him have his way with you would give you both something to remember once he was gone. This was all you’d ever have with Bucky, may as well make the most of it. 

When his lips trailed down your throat, when his hands deftly unzipped your dress and when he undid your bra, you couldn’t utter a protest. As your dress pooled at your feet you felt embarrassed for a moment, wanting to cover up; that was until you saw the way Bucky looked at you. Longing paired with a pleased grin on his lips. 

You wanted to make him feel good, if only once.

“You sure are gorgeous, doll,” he groaned, tracing his lips down your neck, dipping his tongue over your breast. “Sure wanna make you mine,” he whispered before latching onto your nipple. 

“Please,” you whined, pleasure rushing to your core in an unfamiliar way simply by his touch. You weren’t really sure what you wanted, you only knew that you needed him to give it to you. Threading a hand through his hair, you held him close as he lavished your breasts with his warm lips. 

With his eyes steadily fixated on yours he stood to his full height, unbuttoned his jacket and slowly sank to his knees. 

“Do you mean it?” He gently kissed up your thighs.

You didn’t know what he was asking, but in that moment there was only one answer to any question. “Yes,” you whispered. 

Bucky leaned toward your clothed core, hands wrapping around your thighs. “Say you want me to make you mine, doll.”

The smallest touch sent shivers down your spine, the way his large hands felt against your skin, the way his warm breath felt through your thin panties. You were his to do as he pleased. 

“Make me yours, Buck–” you gasped as he tore through the fine material of your underwear. Heat immediately rushing to your cheeks. His tongue slipping between your wet folds. He thought he wanted one night without having to give or take any serious orders. Although this was one he was happy to oblige. He’d gladly make you his, entirely his. 

“Oh, god,” you cried, arching against his mouth. Him and his soft, warm tongue were going to be the end of you. 

His tongue gently stroked up to your sensitive bundle of nerves, before two fingers suddenly slid inside your tight hole. This was so foreign, and so wrong, yet you couldn’t find the words to make him stop; because they didn’t exist in your mind, and you didn’t want him to. 

He fucked you with his fingers, building slow to start then alternating with his tongue. Your mind was in a haze, you couldn’t fathom how Bucky knew how to do this. But there he was, looking up at you, continuing his sweet torture with a possessed look in his eyes. 

He wanted to watch you fall apart, he needed to be the first to see that. Your innocence was something he desperately wanted to sully and he’d thought about it more often than he’d care to admit. Getting the chance to ruin you. Some nights it was the only thing that gave him the determination to make it back home. 

Your mouth fell open when he picked up his pace, moving more roughly, and you couldn’t stifle the cry that slipped past your lips. 

“Might wanna keep it down, wouldn’t want word to get back to your boyfriend now do ya, doll?” he groaned against your pussy, returning to his task, lips latching onto your aching bud while his fingers pumped into you.  

“He’s not my boyf–” you sharply inhaled as he harshly sucked your clit. Throwing your head back, you moaned as you felt your pulse throb through your body. Heat washed over you as Bucky worked you through your orgasm. The sight of you falling apart above him was an image he would never forget. He’d caused that, and he needed to see it again. 

Before you could make a sound again he was up and his mouth was back on yours, swallowing your moans as he slowly finished you off with his fingers. 

“You sure are a beautiful thing,” he rasped, grabbing the back of your neck as he kissed you ardently. Through hazy eyes you watched as he finally pulled his soaked fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean.

“Bucky,” you whimpered. “We should– it’s probably time that we head ba–” 

“Can I make love to you, doll?” His mouth cut you off, a tender kiss that let you taste your arousal on his lips. Heady and intoxicating. 

“Please?” he pleaded. “I might never get the chance, and well — you know how I feel about you.” 

Through countless letters and years of memories, you truly knew exactly how he felt about you. 

The least you could do was give your dear friend this final gift. He came back from the violent war once, and the odds of him finding that luck again would be even more slim. He deserved everything you had to offer.

“Okay,” you nodded your head. “Please be gentle.” 

“Is that an order?” he teased, smiling softly. Grabbing your hand he led you to the small bed in the corner of the room. “I’ll take care of you, promise.” Bucky swiftly undressed leaving him in just his dog tags, his eyes glazed with lust as they took in your body. This was real, you were there, you were his. 

Your eyes roamed over his broad chest, his chiseled abs, but then you stuttered a breath when you saw his hard thick cock. Oh god. It wouldn’t fit, there was no way. 

Before you could protest, his hypnotic blue eyes locked with yours, and you were under his spell. Your eyes lingered on each other's as the air became electric. He could do whatever he wanted, you trusted him. 

“Just relax,” he whispered. Laying you down, he softly peppered your neck with kisses as his fingers ran through your folds. You were plenty wet, but he didn’t want to hurt you. Mesmerized by the way you looked up at him so wide-eyed and beautiful, his eyes searched yours as he tried to ease his way into you, but he was met with resistance. 

“Take a deep breath, doll.” Circling his hips he worked on loosening you up, while you focused on your breathing, and then he slowly slipped further into your tight pussy. A groan escaped his lips once he finally bottomed out inside of you. Fucking exquisite. 

The intense pressure in your core was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, the feeling so different you didn’t know how to comprehend it. But there was no time to think, because suddenly Bucky was making love to you with gradual measured pumps. The sensation felt overwhelming yet more addicting with each passing moment. Your mouth fell open, and you opened your legs wider, experimentally trying to match his thrusts with your hips — that made it feel even better. He was so deep, so thick, you felt every inch of him as he moved in and out of you. 

He treated you with reverence, but with each stroke you felt yourself grow needier. Burning desire like a fire slowly building up in your belly. “H-harder,” you breathed, slapping a hand over your mouth before another moan could escape. 

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky mumbled, picking up his pace. That was another order he’d dutifully obey. He grabbed your knee and bent it up, hitting you hard in a spot that had you seeing stars. 

“S’ good, Buck,” you blubbered. No wonder this was a sin, nothing moral or right could ever feel this good. 

Bucky’s breath stuttered as he watched you; lust-blown pupils and messy lipstick, his pretty innocent girl utterly debauched all thanks to him. He captured the moment in his mind, burning it in his memory. Worshiping you, devouring you, ravaging the woman he dreamed so many nights about. He could never forget this. 

Tender lovemaking quickly turned brutal as he rutted into you roughly over and over, his face buried in your neck to quiet his own moans. 

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you let him get lost in pleasure; he was loving it, and you were grateful you could give this to him. Warmth started to rise up your body again, the coil in your belly tightening with each sharp thrust. 

“I wanna know what you feel like when you come around me, doll. I need it,” he groaned, pressing his lips to yours while his fingers swirled your needy bud. And like an order your body spasmed at his command. Bucky quickly placed a hand over your mouth to silence the sound you were on the cusp of letting out. 

Even though you knew this was improper, morality didn’t deter the way you responded to his strong thrusts, shuddering hard as waves of pleasure washed over you. 

“Bucky,” you mumbled, suddenly frantic with fear over what you’d done. He removed his hand and kissed you, silently reassuring you that this was good. He was right for you, just as you undoubtedly were right for him. 

“Shh it’s okay, sugar. I’m here.” He muttered your name as he came, relishing in the way your wet walls rippled around him. Everything he could have ever wanted. In the house of the man you were planning to marry, he felt bliss, love, and euphoria as he poured himself inside of you. 

Collapsing beside you, he calmed his breathing as you did the same. Both of you trying to process what this meant. You hoped this was enough for him, you gave him every bit of yourself, every last piece. Surely it had to be. 

But in his mind this was only the beginning. 

“I’m going to miss you, Bucky,” you laid your head on his chest, finally back down from your high. 

He gently stroked your face with the back of his hand. “Oh don’t worry about that, you’ll be seeing a lot of me.” 

You furrowed your brows and propped yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at him. “What do you mean?” 

He placed his hand around the back of your neck. “You’re mine now, I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to tell your father that Gilmore's out, and I’m in.” 

“Bucky, I can’t do that,” you shook your head with a soft smile. “That’s who my parents have chosen for me.” Sadly, it wasn’t up for debate. 

“You’re going to tell them it's me, or I’m going to tell them what we did. All the things you let me do, how much you loved it,” he ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “Now you wouldn't want that, would you?”

No, he wouldn’t. If anyone knew about this your reputation would be ruined, your family would be destroyed. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This was not the man you always adored. 

“You lied to me.” The ugly realization that your fate was unwittingly sealed fully dawned on you. 

He didn’t bother trying to deny it. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to take good care of you, I promise,” he smiled. “Get dressed, we have a tough conversation to attend to.” 

“Bucky, I–”

“You trust me don’t you?” He tilted your chin, forcing you to meet his dark gaze. 

Not anymore. Hesitantly, you nodded your head. There was nothing more you could do.  

He gave you a saccharine smile. “You told me to make you mine, and that’s what I did. Now c’mon we have a beautiful future to begin, and maybe we can fit in a dance before I take you home; well what will be your home for a short while longer,” he chuckled. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you wordlessly retrieved and redressed yourself in the wrinkled garments strewn across the room. Disgust overcame you, tarnishing the emotions behind what you thought would be a beautiful memory you’d always cherish. 

Turns out your best friend wasn’t deploying and you belonged to him now. By some miracle, or more accurately some misfortune, he made it back home — and you were the reward for all his hard work. The violence and destruction he witnessed and took part in changed him, more than you could tell at first glance. 

You thought offering him your innocence before redeployment would be a sweet consolation prize. Never did you imagine your new reality, becoming Sergeant Barnes’ most prized possession. 

[ghostlyfleur]

♡ life with sargent james barnes

[spacecasewriter13]

When the Lights Go On Again by @spacecasewriter13

Fic Summary: It is May of 1946, over a year after his fall from the Hydra train and losing his left arm, and James "Bucky" Barnes is struggling to adjust. Working as an analyst at the New York City SSR branch, Bucky tries to put the war and all of its sorted memories behind him. However, try as he might he is plagued by thoughts of Magdalene "Maggie" Ramirez, a Women's Army Corps (WAC) Corporal he met in London and hasn't spoken to since before his fall in January of 1945. Little does he know that Maggie, in her struggle to put the war behind her, has moved to the city and looking for a job with the New York Bell Telephone Company as a switchboard operator. Now, by sheer dumb luck, they are reunited as they both fight come to terms with what they were to one another during the war, and work to figure out how to move forward in a world that was unprepared to deal with the consequences of war in the unsteady peace.

Chapter 32: The boys are home again

Chapter Summary: Maggie tries to get into the Christmas spirit but finds herself wondering about all of the what-ifs as she spends time with old friends and new.

Excerpt:

A cold chill gripped New York as December wore on, and Maggie found herself arm-in-arm with Annie Ames.  They were meeting the boys at Rockefeller Center to look at the massive Christmas tree and were admiring the widow displays decked out in Christmas finery along the way.  This was part of the double date that Daniel had planned.  She and Annie were going to meet them for dinner Saturday evening after the boys got off from work so they could enjoy some of the Christmas spirit currently overtaking the city.  It served well to get Maggie into the Christmas mood and help her prepare for her and Daniel’s visit to Norwalk before returning to Taunton for Christmas.  Both seemed a daunting task.  She was having a hard time getting ready for the holiday and was more than a little nervous about her visit to Norwalk.  So, Maggie was glad to have Annie for company on her quest to acquire the perfect Christmas gifts, as well as hopefully secure some intel prior to departure about what she could expect from her visit with Dick and Catherine in a few weeks.

Annie chatted happily about who she had to purchase for--- her list of family members and friends was lengthy.  Maggie found her own list somewhat abbreviated with a much tighter budget.  Not that she was strapped for cash, but her own childhood habits had been hard to break when it came to purchasing for Christmas.  Plus, it was difficult to purchase for her family, who seemed to never divulge what they wanted or even what they might need.  The children were easy enough, and she’d had the toys purchased and gift wrapped and mailed to Taunton before you could say Jack Robinson.  Everyone else though… that was a challenge.

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[venusfalling]

Little Soldiers in the Trenches - Prologue

fic summary: In 1939, you leave Bucky for school in England. By 1942, with the war at its peak, Bucky thinks you’re dead, but the war brings you back together in the worst way possible.

prologue summary: You’re about to leave New York, so Bucky takes you dancing.

warnings: talk of war

notes: Fluff/Angst, Bucky says goodbye. This is just a short prologue to the rest of the fic. I hope you enjoy!

New York City, June 1939

      “How does it feel to be free, Doll?” Bucky asks, putting an arm around you. It’s the first day of summer, classes are over and Barnard College would be closing its dorms for the next few months. Steve and Bucky had been waiting for you outside the old, white brick building, falling in step next to you when you walk outside. Steve takes the short stack of textbooks from your arms while Bucky grabs your suitcase.       “Feels good.” You smile up at the sun, skin glowing in the warm light. Scandalized mothers look on with their daughters as you loop your arm through both Steve and Bucky’s elbows.       “Well, what do you want to do first?” Steve asks as he stuffs your books in his bag. “We’ve only got you until August, we’ve gotta make the most of it.” Bucky’s smile falters at the reminder that you’ll be leaving for a year before long.       “Don’t worry, Buck,” you say when you notice. “I’ll write you both so much, you’ll get tired of reading.”       “As long as you don’t come back with a British accent, we’ll survive,” Steve jokes, but you can see the worry behind his eyes, as well.       At the end of the summer, you would board a plane bound for England. A study abroad fellowship to finish your mathematics undergraduate degree, a rare opportunity for a woman, but you managed it. Bucky and Steve were proud when you told them, if worried. The geopolitics of Europe made for increasing tensions at the time, and the continent was still recovering from the Great War.       But the quickly fading time left no room for worry or sadness.       “Well, it’s a lovely day, and I’m wearing my favorite skirt, so I think we should head out to the pier for some ice cream after we drop my stuff off at my sister’s apartment.” So, the three of you board the train at the nearest stop, laughing easily with each other as was always the case when you were together.       Your sister was still at work when you arrive home. It was just the two of you since you had both moved to the city. When you received your acceptance letter in the mail, your sister decided you wouldn’t be moving to New York alone and found herself a job as a secretary at a law firm. When you weren’t living in the Barnard dorms, you stayed with her, so her tiny apartment would be home for now. Not that you would be spending too much time there. Between your job as a secretary at Stark Industries and Bucky’s promise to give you the best summer ever with evenings at the movies and Coney Island and your favorite dance halls, it would be a busy few months.       “Jesus, Sunshine, what do you have in here?” Bucky teases as he lifts your heavy suitcase onto your bed.       “Careful, Buck, that has my whole life in there,” you chastise as Steve helps you place your books on a small shelf. He crouches near the base and hands them up to you, pulling the books from his bag and making faces at the titles: Fundamentals of Statistical Analysis, Advanced Applied Calculus, Linear Algebra for the Mathematician, and a series of other books for your studies.       “Well damn, I thought we were your whole life,” he says, gesturing to himself and Steve. You mock a laugh at Bucky’s words, then you stop. They are your whole life.       “You alright?” Steve asks when he notices.       “Yeah,” you sigh, wiping away a stray tear. “I’m just gonna miss y’all when I’m away.”       “We know you will, Sunshine,” Bucky says and places a chaste kiss to the side of your head. He pulls Steve up from the floor, “Come on. Let’s go get that ice cream.” — August 1939, Richard’s Dance Hall

      “Come on, Steve,” you laugh, pulling him to the dance floor. “It’s my last night, you owe me a dance.”       “Fine, fine. Just don’t complain when I step on your toes,” Steve agrees and let’s you lead him to the center of the room. It’s a fast song, but you take it slow, for Steve’s sake. He spins you, your skirt flowing around you in a near perfect circle. You laugh and it brings a smile to his face.       The song is over too soon in your opinion, and is replaced by a slow couple’s song. The melody rings in so softly, it’s almost sad, but it’s one of your favorites — Again by Doris Day and The Mellowmen.       Steve takes your hand in his and puts the other on your waist, but before you can take more than a couple of steps, Bucky walks up.       “Can I cut in?” he asks, holding his hand out. You and Steve nod, but before he disappears you give him a quick peck on the cheek.       “Thanks for the dance, Steve.”       Then it’s Bucky who’s leading you around the dance floor — a simple slow dance, swaying to the music.       The two of you don’t have to say anything, or rather don’t know what to say. You have been dancing around the topic all summer, and, if you’re being honest, all the time you’ve known each other. You like him, might even love him, and you think he loves you too.       You are two glasses of wine in and feeling brave, so you lean up and kiss one of your oldest and best friends. He kisses back and you can feel him smiling against your lips.       “Wait for me?” you ask of Bucky when you pull away.       “I will.” —       The next day, you find yourself waving bye to Bucky, Steve, and your sister at the airport. Luggage in hand, you board the plane, but what was supposed to be a year abroad with letters and photos sent back home quickly becomes a nightmare for you and everyone you love.

[winterarmyy]

Promise Me | Part II

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 5.2k++

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: little angst, melancholy but fluffy stuff, we have bucky's pov in this one, lovers who missed each other very much, emotional reunion, probably bad writing of fighting scenes (sorry guys), mentions of suicide, mentions of sexy times, death of main character (y/n' s past life), another attempt to follow mcu timeline, otherwise, nothing that's too heavy/sensitive for anyone to read.

P/S: Thanks so much for the feedbacks in previous chapters! Here's the new update, guys! I hope you enjoy your reading!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Brooklyn, 2024 – Glimpses of the past

"So, Mr. Barnes, are you still having nightmares?" Dr. Raynor asked as she leaned leisurely on her chair. However long it had been since the first time she met Bucky on their first therapy session, she still couldn't crack the man to talk more than he deemed necessary.

Bucky sat silently on the sofa that was certainly big enough to fit three people with its size; he stared blankly at the door behind Dr. Raynor, wanting to avoid eye contact with the woman.

"James, I asked you a question." She prompted as she crosses her legs together. "Are you still having nightmares?"

If he wanted to be truthful, then his answer would've been yes, however he decided to test if she managed to see through him, "No." He replied with a convincing tone.

Dr. Raynor paused for a moment as she eyed his behaviour,  "We’ve been doing this long enough that I can tell when you’re lying." She quirked her eyebrow as if she was non-verbally asked him to cut the crap.

"Well, you seem a little off today. Did something happen recently?"

Yes. Something did happened recently.

Sure, there was the horrid nightmare that had been haunting him in his sleep most of the nights, but lately there was something else that's been making unannounced appearance in his dreams. Something much older than his memories of the Winter Soldier.

They were glimpses of the past where he was but a man in his mid 20's living his best life with a woman he thought he was going to end up growing old with.

Bucky saw images of his younger, undamaged self tangled up in bed with that woman. His hands raking through the softness her hair as he pushed the mess away from her face. And when she whined in her sleep he would let out a soft chuckle as he lovingly stroke his thumb across her cheek.

He remembered feeling the tug in his chest when the morning light touches her bright eyes as she peeled them open. He remembered the sweet smile she graced upon him as she pulled him in for an innocent kiss. He remembered the warmth of her naked skin rubbing against his own when she snuggled back into his body.

Those were always a pleasant dream to have during his sleepless nights. However rare it was to have them; he found himself spared in the gentle grace that she left behind from those loose pieces of memories. He realized that his broken soul yearns for her peace more than his will longs for his freedom.

"No." He lied again.

"You’re a civilian now. With your history, the government needs to know that you’re not gonna…" Dr. Raynor gestured her hands as if there was an invisible knife in her grasp as she motioned a stabbing movement.

Bucky let out a silent sigh, nodding his head with a somewhat forced derpy smile as she continued to explain, "It’s a condition of your pardon. So, tell me about your most recent nightmare."

However, Bucky remained stubborn on keeping the memories of his past lover to himself. He simply shook his head as he briefly looked to the side and out the window, before coming back and confessed, "I didn’t have a nightmare."

Dr. Raynor breathed deeply, letting the air out through her nose as she clicked on the mechanical pen. The pointer latched on the surface of the lined papers as she started to write down her observation.

Bucky who was sitting on the opposite side only scoffed in respond to her petty attempt of threat, "Oh, come on. Really?" He taunted, "You’re gonna do the notebook thing?"

Rolling his eyes in annoyance as he commented his thoughts outspokenly, "Why? It’s passive aggressive."

"You don’t talk. I write." The therapist replied with a short comeback.

Bucky glared intensely at her before letting out a sigh, "Okay. Okay."

His flesh fingers started to fiddle with his metal ones, a habit which he noticed he recently picked up after getting used to the high-tech vibranium arm.

"It wasn't a nightmare. It's just..."  Bucky didn't know how to put it in words other than, "...a good dream."

It was in the peak of witching hours, when Y/N stood in the middle of the tiny kitchen section of her lover's humble apartment. The quiet of the night sometimes interrupted by the sound of the droplets trickling from the faucet.

There was a luminating light of the full moon that leaks through the open window, granting enough of a vision to see the layout of the kitchen. The stillness of the air made Y/N wonder if this is what she would need to go through soon.

Just an empty life without the presence of her lover.

And there she goes again, wondering in the seemingly endless darkness, thinking of the worst things that could possibly happen.

She had been staring unblinkingly at the counter top for who knows how long since she was woken up from her slumber.

Y/N couldn't go back sleep even if she wanted to. Not when tomorrow is the day that she dreaded the most. The day Bucky was going on his first call, to be sent away to England first thing morning.

"Missed you in bed, y'know?" The huskiness of Bucky's voice broke her from the gloomy thoughts. 

Y/N turned around to first see the bare shape of her lover's body, lean and slightly muscular, then trailed up to his sleepy grin, barely opened eyes and the mess of his bed hair sticking out all over the place.

She had to admit, partially, it was her fault for constantly pulling on them when he went down on her. But it was also important to note that it was entirely his fault for being so damn good at it.

Bucky's hum was hoarse when he walked towards her, "What are you doing up, doll?" While Y/N watched his naked figure moved closer.

Bucky Barnes is a beautiful man.

She knew that even before they started dating but it is a wonder that his beauty still to manage to catch her off guard sometimes.

The moment he engulfed her into his arms, she whispered onto his skin, "Can't sleep." She kept it short and ambiguous but that only became the biggest giveaway to Bucky.

Bucky effortlessly lifted her up on the counter as he settled comfortably in between her legs. His hands trailed along the side of her thighs, casually lifting up the thin material of her night gown before going under it to gently fondle with the flesh of her hips.

He leaned upwards, placing the softest kiss on her lips as he murmured, "Everything's going to be alright, y/n." He kissed her again for a good measure, "I'll be home to you before you know it."

Y/N wrapped arms around his neck, pulling him closer until their forehead touches each other's, "You must write me, always." She spoke quietly; as if it was a secret she wanted to keep from the world.

"You must tell me everything, James. Don't hide anything from me; every blood, sweat and tears. I want to know all of it." Her eyes pleaded desperately, "You must be safe." Their lips hovered over each others; so close, barely even touching, "And come home."

The blue of his eyes were glazed with so much love and adoration as he whispered, "I promise, doll. I'm not going to die before I meet you at the end of the isle."

Somehow, Bucky always knew what to say to make her crack a smile, "I love you, James. Too much for my own good." She pulled him as she kissed his soft lips, "I love you too, y/n. More than anything." He grabbed her by the head, latching his mouth on hers as if it was their last kiss.

Before she knew it, Bucky swiftly pulled her off from the counter and threw her over his shoulder, causing her to yelp in surprise. "Oh my god, Bucky! Put me down right now!" The brunette simply laugh as she shriek his name, "James!"

"James!" Dr. Raynor managed to pull Bucky out of his thoughts. "You're clearly out of it today." She remarked before continuing, "And so, this woman in your dreams... Is she someone you knew back in the 40's?"

Bucky replied, "Most probably." He hesitated as he thought thoroughly, "Or it could just be a made up character that only exists in my dreams."

"Does she perhaps, have a name?" Dr. Raynor asked, in which he simply answered, "She does."

There was brief silence of unbroken eye-contact between them, before Bucky realized that the therapist was silently enquiring her name.

Bucky straightened his position in his seat as blatantly stated, "I'm not telling you her name." That was where he drew the line. Therapist or not; she didn't need to know his lover's identity.

Dr. Raynor hanged her hands up as a sign of defeat, "Okay, okay. That's fair." That was when the timer on her phone went off, "Oh, time's up." She reached for her phone and slide across the screen.

She quickly stood on her feet as soon as Bucky did on his own, "That would be all for this session. Thank you for coming in today, Mr. Barnes."

He had to let out a sarcastic chuckle when he said, "It's not that I want to anyway. It's mandatory." He walked towards the door but before he could turn the knob, Dr. Raynor spoke.

"Outside of this 'mandatory' session, I'd say my advice to you as a friend, is to maybe find her. Or her family." She suggested, "And if you're lucky..." She briefly paused, "...maybe she's out there, somewhere."

Bucky remained static for a moment before he spoke, "Thanks, Doc." He didn't look back to face her, instead he simply walked out the room; unfortunately feeling much more burdened than he did entering it.

Dr. Raynor's advice soon turned out to be a constant dilemma to him more than he anticipated.

Virginia, 1991 – The man she once loved

Y/N panicked. She didn't think the appearance of that metal-armed man will trigger a deep-rooted memories she was desperately trying to forget; spiralling her back into old chapters of her previous life.

It was the year of 1991 and Y/N was in her sixth life. She was a black widow that went rogue after managed on escaping the Red Room program about a few years prior. She was drunk on hatred and vengeance that she almost recklessly killed half of the people in her facility on the day she escaped.

It's not to say that she came out uncut, it was quite the opposite really. Y/N had left the grounds with multiple holes on her body and a deep wound on her beautiful face; a cut from the inner edge of her right brow all the way across her left cheek.

And that left her with a very prominent and unforgettable scar. Though she couldn't care less about it, especially when she knew Hydra was out there still thriving under another intellegence organization like some kind of parasite.

After she heard the news that Howard Stark has successfully replicate the super soldier serum, she is now somewhere in Virginia, trying to hijack the products before it falls in the hands of the Pentagon or worst, Hydra.

Unfortunately for her, the worst thing that could happen, happened.

Someone from Hydra managed to get their hands on them before she could, leaving the corpses of Howard Stark and his wife in the broken down car, posing it as a road accident.

The bodies was still warm and she knew the culprit won't be far from the crime scene, so she rode on forward until managed to catch up with him. She never intended to confront him head on. She was planning to follow him to the meeting point where they will transfer the products to another Hydra agent, like they always do.

But he certainly didn't care about her plan when he changed his route to a different location. She didn't even realized that her incognito was useless when he nearly shot her in the head.

Now, with her cover blown, it was just him and her alone at the gate of an abandoned building. "Well, shit." Y/N cursed.

She could feel the heavy tension from the atmosphere. Silence from the wordless man were screaming louder than her pumping heartbeat.

There were only two of those run-down street lamp that helped to brigthen up the battlefield. But even in the dying light, Y/N could see the silver of left his arms, a red star on the upper side, black mask covering lower half of his face and a messy black shadow all over his eyes.

She knew who he was; though most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. Hydra's most prized asset from the Winter Soldier program that Y/N had been trying to track for months.

Maybe it was a careless greed, or maybe she was just tired of living. But, Y/N dared herself to fight the against super soldier. It was intense but completely one-sided as the soldier managed to counter most her punches and kicks.

There were times that she felt like he was simply playing around with her; and that riled Y/N to the core. If it wasn't enough for God to toy with her life, now this weapon of Hydra is joining the fun.

She was sick of it; and it got her to be impatient. That, however, was a mistake that she shouldn't have done especially during a hand-to-hand combat with the Winter Soldier himself. 

Y/N ducked down from his swinging arm as she surged her own towards him but the man could see her moves from a mile away, so he dropped his knife to his other hand and managed to strike the blade right into where her pulsing heart resides.

All the times she had ripped her own life, it seemed that her soul was used to the pain that it took a few moments of time to register the sharpness of the blade, glinding through her heart.

"Ah, this is truly exhausting." She thought to herself.

She wanted it to end.

She wanted to rest. For good.

In her hazy vision, she looked up at the soldier and noticed that he had been staring blankly into her eyes; like a curious predator watching his dying prey.

She knew it was wrong, but looking closer at the shade of blue in his dead and frozen eyes, she couldn't help to find the resemblance in the man she once loved.

It was cruel to find the semblance of her lover in the eyes of her killer, but that tends to happen when one's soul longed for someone so much that everything and anything around became the reminder of them.

Streams of tears trickled down into her ears as her blood seeped through her clothes, staining the fabric and the ground under her.

Instead of hearing the sound of the soldier's footstep walking away, all she could hear was the vivid memories of Bucky's laughter, "I miss you, James."

She truly did.

She missed him so much that she wished that she can finally die this time around, praying for a chance to meet him once more.

But alas, that's not gonna happen anytime soon. Not when the God hates her now.

"I miss you so much." her voice shivered as she whispered her last breath.

Madripoor, 2024 – Long-lost lover

Easy to say, Y/N was furious that she let the memories of her past, the appearance of the winter soldier, distract her focus for her mission. She was furious that she didn't manage to get into Wilfred's lab before someone else did.

Don't get her wrong, though.

She was somewhat grateful when she found him dead, because that's means there's one less parasite that could potentially revive Hydra from the recreation of super soldier serum. But, she was pissed that she wasn't able to dig for more information about his research and the people he was affiliated with.

She knew he was recruited by the CIA before the blip but seeing that his lab is now basically a cargo, located in Madripoor, she doubt that he has anything to do with CIA now.

He's probably working with someone else in the underground scene.

Y/N sat leg-crossed on stacks of cargo, as she watched the scene from afar. The bounty hunters were ruthlessly attacking a group of criminals that attacked Shelby last night; they were completely out-numbered.

She heard from the bar that it was considerably a high pay for the rewards especially when the targets were consists of the runaway prisoner, Zemo, Hydra's weapon, the Winter Soldier and the member of Avenger, the Falcon.

It was indeed an odd group of people but she couldn't care less about how that came to be. What caught her attention was the fact that the Falcon, who is a member of the Avenger, was affiliated with the Winter Soldier, who is an asset of Hydra.

And the fact that they were digging their feet in the underground world for the super soldier serum, making the trio combination even more concerning.

She knew it was the best bet to approach the Falcon for information rather than going for the other two, so when the group split up during their fight, she quietly followed the Falcon.

He was a bit clumsy when fighting alone; or maybe it was because the hunters kept streaming in non-stop. Nonetheless, one by one, eventually the Falcon managed to take them down.

Y/N lurked at the corner, quietly observing his fighting style as he struggled with the few that was left.

"He's going to run out of ammo." She thought to herself.

And two shots later, he did.

There were two hunters left and he had no choice but to use his fists. Looking at him now, maybe he suited the hand-to-hand combat style more than gun combat. Y/N noticed his moves are more seamless than when he fight with a gun a few seconds ago.

The Falcon breathed heavily as the last hunter was tackled down. She decided that it had to be now or never, at least before the winter soldier came to the scene to regroup. When she stepped out of her camouflage, the Falcon only noticed her presence that he missed the red dot on his chest.

But, Y/N saw it, "Fuck! He can't die. Not now." She couldn't let him go without getting information she needed from him.

In mere seconds, she jumped towards him and managed to pulled him away from the target. However, it was not far enough, that was when the bullet grazed on his side. Y/N quickly grabbed her throwing knife and land it right into the hunter's head.

The Falcon staggered backwards, meeting his back on the side of a cargo as he groaned in pain. His eyes scanned the appearance of his potential saviour; hooded figure, mask-covered face, assassin-like dressed – he realized that she matched the description of what Sharon had warned him before.

"So before we move, this might be unrelated, but I gotta warn you guys about someone." Sharon spoke as she equipped herself.

The three men looked over her as they gave their undivided attention, "While last night was hectic with the return of the Winter Soldier." She briefly looked over at Bucky, "But, there was also another person that made an appearance."

"She's known as the Deathstalker." She paused. "What I can say about her is she's a basically mystery; appeared out of thin air a few months into the blip." Sharon explained, earning a couple of nods from Sam and the signature frown from Bucky.

However, Zemo simply smiled and commented, "Ah, the pretty little Deathstalker." The mannerism of his speech was thick with Sokovian accent.

"You know her?" Sharon quirked.

Zemo smiled again, this time a little bit too smug, "We might have once crossed our path." He kept it ambiguous.

"When? You were in the prison years before the blip." Sam frowned as he questioned.

Sipping on the glass of liquor, Zemo answered, "She may or may not have 'visited' me to get some information about Hydra."

The mention of Hydra caught Bucky's attention but he kept it well hidden under his stoic expression. Noticing Sam's confusion with Zemo's insinuating answer, Bucky simply laid it out for him, "It means, she broke into the prison, Sam." he simply sighed.

Sam jutted his lips as he shrugged, "Guess you're not the only one who's insane here, Buck." He teased as he poked fun of Bucky's decision of 'breaking into the prison' to let Zemo out.

"You said, 'pretty little Deathstalker'. So you've seen her face?" Sharon asked curiously as she crossed her arms to her chest. No one had seen the assassin's face before, so she could help but to ask.

Zemo shook his head, "No. But that signature mask of hers cannot hide the beauty within." He smirked as he recalled the look in the Deathstalker's eyes; she had that obsession for vengeance. As he did when he broke the Avengers apart .

"You see, I've always had the eyes for beautiful things." He explained as if it was a natural thing to say.

Sharon knew shouldn't let herself expect too much from Zemo, especially when he had that attitude. She simply rolled her eyes and walked towards the seat next to Sam.

Bucky leaned his back into the sofa, spreading his legs apart as he asked, "Is she gonna be a problem?" An assassin that's been breaking into prison to ask Zemo about Hydra. That doesn't seem like a casual information to overlook.

Sharon shrugged as she continued, "Well, depends on your move. But, I'd advice you to never get on her bad side. People speculated that she's a rogue assassin turned bounty hunter but the thing is... she has never taken any job."

Bounty hunters get their money from jobs that's advertised all over the city. So, the Deathstalker couldn't be called a Bounty Hunter when she never take jobs before. If it were up to Sharon, the Deathstalker was much suited under the same category as Ronin, the masked vigilante who tracks down and slaughters criminals during the blip.

Sharon explained that, "She just stalks around the underground scene, and leave bodies behind for people to find."

Zemo interjected, "Hence, her name." Gaining a glare from Sharon, that translates to "Do you want to tell the story or what?"

"Right." Sam nodded as he takes in the information.

After earning a silent apology from Zemo, Sharon continued, "No one knows who she works for or what her aim is but there's rumours she's been hunting down Hydra, or anyone and anything affiliated to it."

Again, the Deathstalker's obsession with Hydra had caught Bucky's attention. A rogue assassin seemingly made it her mission to hunt down Hydra?

Bucky doesn't know what to make of that. So, he kept his questions to himself. Eitherway, if she gets in their way, he'd still need to fight her.

"Why are you telling us this again?" Sam asked as he didn't find the connection between their mission and the Deathstalker.

Sharon replied, "It's just worth to note that she might be hunting for Wilfred Nagel too." She paused as her gaze fell into Bucky's, "...since the super soldier serum had been Hydra's obsession for centuries."

Now that the Deathstalker technically saved Sam's life.

So, does that mean that she was not an enemy?

Sam was struggling between containing his pain and coming up with a plausible conclusion but Y/N's action quickly give him the answer he needed.

Within seconds, she had Sam pinned against the wall as the edge of her sharp blade dug into the skin of his neck, "What is an Avenger doing with the Asset?" Her voice sounded distorted through the voice-changing mask.

"Lady, I don't know what you're talking about!" He grunted in protest.

Sam was not used to Bucky being labeled as an "asset". Sure, he knew the name of Winter Soldier or Soldat. But, Bucky was never addressed as the Asset, at least not by the people around him.

Y/N grabbed him by the collar and harshly slammed him against the metal of the cargo behind him, causing him to curse as the pain struck on the side of his abdomen.

"Are you planning to revive Hydra?" Her menacing eyes searched into his, demanding for a truthful answer.

What kind of bullshit was she talking about?

Reviving Hydra?

Why the hell would he do that?

However, before Sam could retort to her accusation, Y/N was pulled back by an arm, wrapped around her neck from behind. She knew it was the Winter Soldier from the cold metal burning into her skin. The soldier's other hand grabbed onto her wielded hand, forcefully bending her wrist until the knife fell from her grasp.

He easily lifted her up in the air as he backed away, tightening the lock of his left arm around her neck while twisting her right hand to her back with his flesh hand. The smaller let out a robotic groan through her mask as she struggled in his chokehold.

While the two wrestled in between holding one down and freeing oneself, Sharon quickly ran to Sam's side, "Are you alright?" she prompted as she examined his wounds. The male simply nodded his head, "Yeah, it's just a graze." He explained before asking, "Is that the Deathstalker chick that you've been talking about?"

Sharon followed his gaze, and eyed the woman who was still struggling in Bucky's hold before she managed to land a particularly sharp strike right into Bucky's stomach, "Yeap, that would be her." Sharon answered.

Usually a few strikes by an elbow of a woman doesn't really hurt the super soldier but unfortunately for him, the elbows of the suit Y/N was wearing were armored with thin yet effective pad made of vibranium. Due to its ability is to absorb and dissipate shocks, it managed to push him back and simultaneously loosen his hold on her.

When his guard was down, Y/N took the opportunity to  slightly twist her foot back around his and grab onto his left arm. She pushed her bottom into his hips as she bend over, pulling onto his arm as she flipped him forward.

Y/N stepped backwards, standing on guard as the soldier rolled over on the ground before finding a position to stop the inertia; one knee of the ground while the other leg paused at his foot with his back facing her.

Her hands reached to her back and pulled two knives from the holster on the belt, gripping them by the handle while the blades facing downwards. She bended her knees into stance, much like a panther ready to pounce.

But when the soldier stood on his feet and turned around, suddenly her defensive stance flatter and her breath were cut short. The battled-tensed surroundings did not matter when all she could see was the soldier's face.

He looked a bit aged from the last time she saw him but a lot younger considering it was decades ago.

How could she forget those ocean blue of his eyes beneath the deep frown he was wearing?

Or the softness of his pursed lips ghosting over her own?

Even if the smooth skin of his forehead were now decorated with thin lines of wrinkles, and the exhaustion in the discoloration under his eyes had overshadowed the playful glint he used to have; they could never fool her to believe that the man standing in front of her right now was not her long-lost lover.

"James?" Her voice was gentle but the voice changer behind her mask didn't quite conveyed her tone.

Suddenly, the high walls of her defenses begin to crumble into mere pieces of fragments like crushed dried leaves on autumn grounds. Time suspended, almost too still, as if it was trying to give her the luxury to cherish the revelation; to revel in the moment of joy and relief.

And there wasn't any thoughts formulated in the fog of her mind besides the need to melt in his arm. Somehow the dark side of her mind managed to trick her into believing that if she didn't touch him now, then she would perish in despair.

Her feet inches forward closer and closer, and her knives were long forgone, leaving clancking sounds on the surface of the ground.

When Bucky heard his name uttered by the woman, somehow it didn't sound foreign to him. It was as if he'd heard it before.

And when he saw the wet glaze in her bright eyes as she hesitantly walk towards him, he knew then that she was not approaching with an intent to kill him; he'd dare to say it was quite the opposite.

There were so much emotions in her gaze; grief, yearning, sorrow, need, joy – that he even his ex-assassin's skill couldn't possibly decipher them all. And that had impeccably managed froze every nerves in his body until he can only stood there, paralyzed on his spot.

With each hesitant step, more tears started to swell in her eyes. Step by step she took, hoping he wasn't another fragments of hallucination that she made up to ease her needs, until she finally stood close enough to him to realize he was real.

Bucky knew he should move. Reprimand her before she could land any sneak attack that he might not expect; but he couldn't. Not when she gaze up at him with that look in her eyes.

He unexpectedly drowned himself in those waves of emotions in her gaze, not realizing her actions until her shivering hands cupped his face.

Her fingers were cold as if they were soaked in ice.

Her voice slightly cracked when she spoke, "Is that really you, James?" Even if she was looking directly into his eyes, somehow the question sounded like it directed towards herself rather than to Bucky.

It's real.

He's real.

Her eyes casted down to where her skin met his warmth. There was a slight tingle when her thumbs rubbed against the stubble of his jaw, prickling her skin perfectly just as she remembered.

"It's you. James. It's really you." She mumbled under her breath, convincing herself over and over as if her brain refused to acknowledge it while her heart does otherwise.

Bucky, on the other hand, didn't know what to do or what to say. But, he hadn't heard anyone called him by that name so affectionately since Y/N. The lover he left behind during WWII, who's grave he had been visiting every Tuesday morning ever since that particular session with Dr. Raynor.

However, something in his guts were screaming at him to reach out to this woman's plea as she cried in his presence, lost in her own world as she muttered his name again and again.

But, why?

Why does he feel the need to cradle her body in his arms, and whisper the sweetest things to calm her down?

Why?

Bucky gulped as his eyes loomed over hers, "Who are you?"

<< Part I || Part III >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Feel free to leave feedbacks! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until then, see you in the next part 🤍

[melodylnoelle]

Nothing New

Hello! I am a day late again...  well, a week and a day. Here is one from last week’s card pull, and the other will be posted late tonight.

The Cards Have Spoken - Week 8 (@brightsun-and-darkmidnight ’s cards)

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Characters: Dealer’s Choice - 1940s!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader Category: Angst - Amnesia Relationship: Mutual pining AU: On the Run Warnings/Notes: Amnesia, injuries, mentions of loss, car accident (mentioned, described a little but not in great detail)  // This one is in the same universe as the On the Run AU one from my cards in Week 5. // For these, we are setting it to a minimum of 500 words. You can use these same cards for your own story if you like, but please tag me and @brightsun-and-darkmidnight so that we can see what you do! This was a different one for me, for sure. Please enjoy Words:  3967 (whoooooops) Summary: It’s 1947, and after being on the run with you for the last year, you ended up in the hospital after an accident. Bucky is there when you wake up. Masterlist

          Bucky shifted in his seat, pulling the jacket more closed over his frame. He hated being out in public – hated feeling so exposed – but he knew this was exactly where you needed to be. He would sit in this hospital bed for as long as it took for you to be alright. After all, you didn’t heal the way that he did.

           He kept peeking over his shoulder, looking for HYDRA agents or the army or anyone who would recognize him – even Howard, though he doubted he would be in this clinic – but most of the time, his gaze was focused on you. He wished he could will away the cuts and bruises that peppered your face, your arms. He hadn’t been in the room when they dressed your ribs, but he imagined they looked similar mottled shades of purple and yellow. It raked at his nerves, made only worse by the fact that you hadn’t yet woken in the two days since the accident.

           The doctors told him to talk to you, to encourage you to wake up. He had spent hours talking, complimenting, hell begging you. The first day, he spoke more to you than he could remember having spoken in the last two years. He took breaks when the tears welled up and his voice caught in his throat like a foreign object, choking him and resorting him to silent sobs. This is what had stopped him an hour ago – the lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow, and the rise and fall of his chest becoming rapid and uncontrolled. He did his best to not let the doctors see that, lest they check him in as a patient himself or make him leave.

           It had been long enough, though, that he had calmed again, and he decided to start back up.

           “Hey doll,” he spoke quietly as he leaned forward, stroking your upper arm where there was no bruising. “You’ve been asleep a long time. I hope you’ve had some good dreams in there. But it’s time to wake up now, okay?” He let his thumb make mindless circles as he whispered in your ear. “I don’t know what to do without you. I don’t have anyone…” he trailed off, clearing his throat. This was never going to work if he couldn’t keep his emotions from choking him out. He also wasn’t so sure that this was the best time to confess how he felt, even if you weren’t awake to hear it. He was torn between that and feeling like there may never be another time. He chose to move on from it, though, once again. “I just need you to wake up, ok? I miss you. It’s lonely here without you, Y/N.”

           He almost missed it. Probably would have, if he hadn’t had to look away to blink away fresh tears.

           “Y/N? Did you just move your fingers?” Another twitch. This time, he was watching your hand more intently, and saw them twitch again at your name.

           How had he not thought about using your name all this time? He usually called you ‘doll’ as a joke, or as a way to gauge whether you had the same feelings for him that he held for you. It had become a habit at this point. But of course you would answer to your name. Was it that simple all this time?

           No, of course not, he shook his head. Just coincidental timing. But he was going to keep running with it.

           “Hey Y/N. That’s really great. I need you to wake all the way up now, though, ok, Y/N? I really miss you.” Your eyes twitched but didn’t open. His hand flew to yours, and he stroked that back of your hand. “Y/N, I’m here. I just need you to open your eyes, ok? Please?”

           His heart felt it was going to explode with anticipation as your eyelids fluttered. Relief flooded through him as they opened, your {e/c} eyes looking lazily and unfocused around the room. He let out a sigh, and that brought your attention to your left, right to his face.

           “Hey, doll. Y/N. Welcome back.”

           You opened your mouth but closed it quickly, He watched you wince as you swallowed before trying again. “Bucky?”

           His heart both lept with joy at hearing his name on your lips, and broke at how raspy and strained it sounded. “Hey, Y/N. I’m here.”

           You looked around the room slowly as your vision came better into focus. “What happened? Where are we?”

           “You’re in the hospital. We were in a car accident. Do you remember?”

           Your brows knit together, and you shook your head. Then winced at the pain.

           “The car rolled a couple times. You got pretty beat up.”

           You eyed him suspiciously in a way that broke his heart more. “Then why aren’t you hurt.”

           He tried to smile. “Super-healing abilities, remember?”

           All the suspicion dropped off your face immediately. “Oh. Right. That’s right.” Your hand left his to brace yourself on either side as you tried to sit up.

           “Hey, hey, take it easy.” He lurched forward to place a light hand on your shoulder, pushing you down. “You shouldn’t sit up right now, you need to rest.”

           He hadn’t needed to, though. You seemed to think better of it immediately. Pain flickered across your face as you let yourself sink back into the hospital bed. “Ow… yea, you’re right,” you blew out in a breathy sentence.

           “I’m going to call a nurse, alright?” At your nod, he reached around you and hit the button to signal the light in the nurse’s station. He settled back into the chair, taking your hand back in yours. “How are you feeling?”

           “Like crap, honestly.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

           He let you take a moment.

           The nurses were in very quickly. Seeing that you had woken, the left to fetch the doctor, and returned within a few minutes.

           “Y/N, I’m Doctor Blake,” the man said as he shut the door. He had a pleasant smile on his face. “It’s nice to see you back in the land of the living.”

           “Hi,” you croaked out.

           “How long has she been awake?”

           “Just a few minutes,” Bucky answered. He rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand, not willing to let go just yet.

           “Alright, let’s look you over, ok?” Bucky waited in anticipation as the doctor started probing along your lymph nodes in your neck, nodding slightly. He then took a small light from his pocket and shined it in your left eye, and then the right. “Follow my finger with your eyes only, ok?” You nodded, then did what he asked until he turned the light off and put it in his pocket. “Pupil response looks good, that’s a good sign.”

           “See? You’ll be good in no time, you tough cookie,” Bucky let a smile grow wide on his face. He couldn’t help the relief flooding through him, or the way his heart was racing at feeling you stroke your thumb along his hand, mirroring his own action. He had started to worry that he would never feel that again. You did that for him on some his worst nights. A gentle, innocent touch that he had no business finding so comforting. But he did. He didn’t want to return to the way the first year had been after his escape – alone, wandering from town to town to stay under the radar, not talking to anyone. You had come into his life like a whirlwind, changing everything, and, maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t want to lose that.

           Losing Steve had already been enough. If you had died, too…

           He shook the thought from his head. You were right here, holding his hand. Everything was going to be ok.

           The doctor switched gears from checking your IV to taking out his stethoscope and placing it on your chest. He moved it around as he listened, instructing you on when to take deep breaths.

           “Ok, that sounds good, too. The hoarseness in your voice should go away with time. Now we just need the rest of your injuries to heal, right? We should keep you here for a few more days to monitor your recovery. You were unconscious for quite some time.”

           Bucky watched as you processed this. “Where is here?”

           “You’re at the Philadelphia General Hospital.”

           You nodded slowly. “You never told me your name.”

           He was taken aback a moment, but smoothed his face over quickly. “I’m sorry, I thought I did. I’m Doctor Blake. You’ve been in my care since you arrived.”

           Bucky looked between you and the doctor. He had said his name, and you were usually good with remembering names. He tried to fight the spike of panic. You had been through a lot and had just woken up. Maybe you hadn’t caught it.

           He refocused on your face when you turned to look at him. “Bucky, I’m glad you’re here.”

           He forced his face to stay relaxed as he answered. You didn’t usually say his name around strangers, either. You had codenames that you used. Maybe you thought the doctor knew who he was already. “I wouldn’t leave you behind, doll. Not ever.”

           “What happened?”

           It took Bucky a moment to answer. “Y/N, I told you, there was a car accident. You were hurt real bad.”

           “Am I going to be ok, Doctor…?” You trailed off, a look of concentration on your face.

           The doctor was trying to hide it well, but Bucky could tell he was concerned. He took the light from his pocket again, leaning forward to check your eyes. His voice was even as he answered. “Well, you have a lot of healing to do, but you should recover just fine.”

           You let out a sigh. “That’s good.” You didn’t even comment that he had already looked at your pupils, and that concerned Bucky more.

           “Mr. Y/L/N, can I have a word with you in the hall a moment?” Doctor Blake asked as he stood back to his full height.

           It took Bucky a moment to shake off the confusion at your words and realize that he was being addressed. Using your last name as his while you were moving around had been your idea, and even though it had been months since he started using it, he still was not used to it. Especially since you weren’t actually dating like he wanted you to be. The pang in his chest probably would have been worse if you had taken his, but that hadn’t been an option. He was the one that needed to hide.  

As he stood to follow, your grip on his hand only tightened.  “You’re leaving?”

           The fear in your wide eyes broke his heart. His free hand moved to your face on instinct, smoothing lightly over your cheeks and brushing your hair back from your face. “Just for a moment. I promise, I’ll be right back, ok?”

           You nodded, your breathing slowing slightly.

           “Want me to bring you back some water?”

           “Yea. Yea, ok. Thank you.”

           He squeezed your hand as he placed a light kiss to your forehead. He tried to tell himself the action was just him playing into the false persona of being married. Then he let go and turned to follow the doctor into the hall.

           “Mr. Y/L/N, how long ago did you tell her what happened?”

           Bucky’s brow furrowed. “Right after she woke up, while we were waiting for you.”

           He nodded. “Does she normally have an issue with memory?”

           “No, she normally has a great memory, actually.”

           “And she remembered you without you prompting?”

           “Right.”

           “I see.”

           “Is it normal for people to have memory issues after waking up like that?” Bucky had seen a lot of injuries in his time in the army – people losing their minds after coming back, horrific injuries on the battlefield or after, and the torture that he and others endured from HYDRA… but this was something he didn’t understand.

           “Well, it can be. We will have to do some more tests, and give her some time. Naturally, she has suffered a brain injury from this accident, so it’s possible she is still healing, and the issue will go away.”

           Bucky could hear his heartbeat in his ears. “Possible, but there are other options?” When the doctor didn’t continue, he pushed further. “Stop beating around the bush, sir. How bad is it?”

           He looked over Bucky a moment, before sighing and continuing. “We could be dealing with a case of anterograde amnesia, which would, unfortunately, be permanent. Now, I am not the foremost expert on this matter –“ he rose his hands up, halting Bucky from speaking so he could continue – “but I have read several academic studies on the matter. If it does not clear up, it is likely going to be progressive.”

           “I don’t understand what all that means.” Internally, he was afraid he did.

           Doctor Blake pursed his lips, considering. “Anterograde amnesia is a condition where someone is unable to form new memories. We are still working to understand this, though, because some people seem to be able to remember some new things and just not everything, and there are others that remember no new information at all. As I said, I am not an expert, so if this ends up being the case, it is likely best to take her to a specialist on the matter.”

           “And the progressive part?” Bucky was trying to keep his voice from wavering, but it betrayed his emotion.

           The doctor looked at him more sympathetically then, and spoke more softly. “If the condition doesn’t resolve itself within the next couple of days, I am afraid the condition is permanent. She may not be able to form new memories at all, and it would become worse over time.”

           All the wind left Bucky’s lungs. He didn’t know how to breathe. His miscalculation, his one moment of inattention on the road, led to this? You wouldn’t remember anywhere new that he took you, any new moments between you. And it was all his fault.

           “Hey, we don’t know yet that that is the case.” The doctor placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky tensed, taking a step back. He hoped the doctor hadn’t felt the seam of his metal arm beneath the jacket. That would give him away surely as anything, and he was not going to do anything that made him had to leave you in this condition.

           But if he noticed, the doctor made no show of it. “Let’s just take things one step at a time, alright? Keep an eye on her, and let me know if anything gets better. In the meantime, I will order some tests, and start looking into recommendations for specialists on the matter for you, just in case.” When Bucky nodded his understanding, the doctor turned and started making for the door at the end of the hall.

           Bucky stood there a moment, processing, trying to get his own breathing under control. His heart was hammering in his chest. Of all the things that could have taken you from him, all the things he had night terrors about that had him waking in a cold sweat, searching for you in the room, this had not been one of them. This was worse – so much worse – because he was the one who did this to you.

           He tried to cling to the doctor’s words that this might not be permanent as he went to get you water. He took his time, willing himself to calm down. It wouldn’t do you any good if he let you see him panicking.

           When he re-entered the room, it all crashed back as he watched your face shift from panic and fear to relief. “Bucky! You’re here. Thank god,” you breathed out in a still-raspy voice. Your hand was over the call button. “What happened? Where are we?”

           Before he could answer, a nurse walked into the room. “Everything alright?”

           “She’s alright.” The nurse looked between the two of you, eyes narrowed. “She couldn’t remember you had already been here, I just got back into the room. Doctor Blake can explain,” he whispered low enough that you wouldn’t be able to hear.

           There was that look of sympathy again. Was that an instinctual thing among doctors, or was that something that they were trained on? Either way, she exited the room without another word, shutting the door softly behind her.

           “What did you say to her?”

           Bucky didn’t have the heart to tell you what he knew – didn’t know the words – so he didn’t. “Just that she should go get the doctor since you just woke up.”

           “Oh.” You looked around the room a moment. “How long have I been asleep?”

           “A few days.” Bucky walked forward, taking a seat next to the bed again. “Here, you should have some water.” He handed it to you with one hand while twining the fingers of his other hand around yours.

           “Thanks.” After several, painful-looking gulps of water, you set it down on your nightstand. “You didn’t answer my question, by the way.”

           He took a deep breath around the stab of pain in his heart. “You’re in the hospital. You were in a car accident.”

           “Oh. How long am I going to be here?”

           “A few more days, probably. We’ll see what the doctor has to say.”

           “Oh.” You stroked your thumb over the back of his hand, and his mind clung to that as he tried to sort out his thoughts. “Are you ok? You look tired.”

           He smiled softly. “I am a little tired. Been up watching after you, I haven’t slept much.”

           “You should sleep, then. I’ll be ok.”

           He signed. “You’re right. I probably should.”

           “Actually, could you… could you get me some water first? Or I can call the nurse for some.”

           Bucky frowned. “Are you already out of water?” He jerked his chin in the direction of the cup on the nightstand.

           You turned your head from him to look at it, but he still saw the confusion on your face. “Oh. I didn’t realize there was water there. Sorry.” You reached to the table to grab it.

           He didn’t realize his heart could break so many times, so many ways in one day. He squeezed your hand, trying to reassure himself that you were alright, that the doctor was right, and this could be temporary, as he drifted off for a nap.

           But as the days went on, nothing improved. He slept as little as possible, as every time, he awoke to you bring confused and scared in a way that shredded the inside of his chest. It made him never want to sleep again just so that you wouldn’t have to spend so much time wondering what was happening. When you had met a year ago, he promised you that you would never have to be afraid of anything, that he would make sure that you were safe. That he had put you in this position ripped and clawed at his heartstrings.

           He went with you to every test, since that seemed to be the only way to keep you calm. He helped the doctors keep you on track with endless promises to explain everything later. Endless, because you forgot he had promised so quickly. He learned early on that telling you what was happening only led to mindless panic until you forgot again, so at every interruption to conversation where you would once again ask where you were and what had happened, he kept his answers brief. He didn’t know how long he was going to be able to stand how scared you seemed.

           But you never forgot who he was. You remembered stolen moments on your travels, how you met, the things that you had been through together. He was grateful that none of those memories seemed to have faded, and it was the only thing that his mind had left to cling to.

           On the fifth day after you woke, the hospital decided there was nothing left that they could do for you. Your injuries were all healing well, and there was nothing they could do for your mind that they hadn’t already done. They thought it would be better if you tried to heal somewhere that didn’t set off your anxiety every time that you forgot where you were. Doctor Blake had handed Bucky a list of names along with your discharge paperwork, an apologetic look on his face as he told him to take good care of you.

           Bucky helped you get into the car that he had secured for the two of you, and then settled into the driver’s seat.

           “Where are we going now?” You asked.

           Where were you going to go? He looked to the list of names from Doctor Blake. He should take you to them, being responsible. But how long would it take with each doctor for them to come to the same result? That there was nothing to be done? Was that really how you would want to spend your days, endless test after endless test while not actually living?

           No. He knew enough about you to know that that is not what you would want. You would want to explore, even if you were not going to be able to remember the time that you spent. You would want to see new things, spend time with Bucky. You had given up everything to be with him in the first place, and you made no secret to him that moments with him, even when hiding in an abandoned apartment building, sitting on the floor in front of a fire, were the happiest moments you had ever had. He had never understood why, but he knew how much it meant to you.

           He wished you could heal like he could, and then this never would have happened.

           He rose his head from the list, staring out the window blankly. That thought lead to another, giving him a new spark of hope to cling to.

           The SSR may not have any supersoldier serum left, but he knew someone that did.

           His palm started sweating, and he wiped it on his pant leg absently.

           “Bucky? What’s wrong?” Your voice, thankfully no longer so hoarse, was riddled with nerves.

           “No, nothing. Nothing.”

           “Where are we going?”

           “New Jersey. It’s nice there this time of year.”

           He would wait to explain until you got closer. You would forget, anyway, if he told you, and he needed time to sort out the specifics in his own head.

           Steve had trusted Peggy and Howard, enough that maybe he would be able to talk them into helping him. He may have to expose himself to the army again, maybe even re-enlist, but it was worth it if it meant he would have some help going after HYDRA. He knew the Howling Commandos were all still out there somewhere, and he was willing to bet they would be able to help, too. And there were doctors in the army that could look after you while he was gone. Peggy could make sure you were taken care of properly, he was sure.

           He was going to get that serum. It may not work, but it was the least that he could do for you.

           He put the car in drive, setting his foot gently on the pedal and started making his way back to his old life.

[justiceiswater]

All this time she's been traveling and hasnt learned how to pick locks? Nat has lots of work to do!

and her parents! why must they be such idiots? their daughter is literally in danger every second of every day and they are gonna get stubborn about her boyfriend? she could die from her own mutation but they are gonna blame it on just some guy? I could never. Im a way better parent than them.

Non-Sequential [Ch. 7]

Pairing: Pre-Serum Steve Rogers/Steve Rogers x Reader

One night, Steve Rogers met a beautiful dame named Y/N. He hadn’t intended on letting her get away. But fate had other ideas. Y/N appeared and disappeared in his life so hauntingly that Steve started to wonder if she was an angel meant to watch over him.

Word Count: 2,880

A/N: Inspired by the film The Time Traveler’s Wife. But not one of those fics that just literally rips off the whole movie and plugs in characters where they please.

Chapter 6

Steve was leaning against the doorway for one of the many labs in the compound. Y/N was sitting on a stool across from Nat. On the table between them were countless mock door knobs and locks. Nat was talking in an quiet and patient tone. And Steve could tell from Y/N’s expression alone that she was listening as intently as possible. “How long you think your boyfriend is gonna stare at us for?” Nat asked so seamlessly after her instructions that it Y/N had to process what she actually asked.

Y/N blinked and then looked to the door. Her face immediately broke into a loving smile when she spotted Steve. She jumped up from her seat and practically skipped to him, giving him a quick peck on the lips as her greeting.

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[lungthief]

listen. i know it's not 2014 anymore and i know it's just a throwaway line and that the russo brothers didnt intend for marvel action blockbuster captain america the winter soldier to become the tragic gay love story that never was but man. having steve say "it's kind of hard to find someone with shared life experience" in a conversation about romantic relationships right before the bucky reveal is so cruel. it's not just about steve and bucky obviously having the shared experience of being "out of time," it's the fact that they've both been stripped of their humanity in opposite directions. steve is a legend, he is an american hero and a national icon before he is a human being the same way that bucky is a weapon and a killing machine before he is a human being. steve knows that anyone who falls in love with him in the 21st century fell in love with captain america first, and that's just not him. but then the one person who knew him first and knew him best and loved him (not captain america, that little guy from brooklyn) so much he died for it is alive, impossibly. and it's a miracle because he's back and it's horrific because he's back under the worst possible circumstances. but to steve, the winter soldier is worth tearing the world apart for because he's always been bucky first. they find each other and suddenly they're human again. and maybe, despite it all, being "out of time" becomes a blessing, because in this century they'd finally be allowed to love each other the way they've always wanted to. like real people do.

like. no. the captain america trilogy isn't about two queer men traumatized and alienated by war and modern life rediscovering and reclaiming their humanity through their love for each other. but. i mean. it couldve been