#Avengers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days ago

Text

Collision

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, blood, injury, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you find yourself in the hands of unexpected saviours after an accident.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Helmut Zemo

Note: Ugh, here we go.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

A loud bang awakes you.

You're not in your bed. Not sleeping. That cloudy feeling in your head combines with the haze of dust across your vision. The same ash coats your skin, suffocating as you writhe beneath the weight that pins you.

You moan and cough, dizzy and dazed as your mind turns slowly. You reach up instinctively to drag yourself free of whatever is on you. The effort does little more than pull more scraps of plaster towards you.

You fall flat and wheeze. What the heck happened? You blink and try to wipe the grime from your face.

It comes in patches. The big building, the interview, your borrowed heels. The desperation that's now turned dire as you stare at the singed ceiling.

"Dammit," a voice snarls as there's a clatter. Some metal thumps and there's a hiss. "You goddamn--" the man stops himself. "I said no bombs."

"You said you wanted a way in, soldat," the lilted slither returns.

"Don't call me that. I'll break your jaw," the deeper voice warns. "I doubt that thing you're wearing will protect you. You look stupid."

"Well, forgive me for having taste," the other man snickers. "You got what you needed--"

"I don't need all this. Do you have any idea the kinda shit that's gonna rain down on me. You're lucky this place was as shell--"

Your throat clogs with ash and you cough again. You try to wet your lips but even your tongue is pasty with the stuff. Their voices silence. You listen but only hear one pair of steps.

A shadow appears on the other side of the lumber and metal that traps you. Another from your other side you don't hear. You raise your palm helplessly to shield yourself. Blood covers your fingers, one of them bent to the side. You whimper and choke again.

"Shit, I told you--" The bare-faced man snarls at the one in the strange purple mask.

"She was not in my calculations," the other rebuffs.

"Not in your--" the other huffs and stops himself. He drops to one knee over you. "Miss, miss, can you hear me?"

You try to answer and your voice comes out like a fizzle. He shakes his head and turns to sneer at the other man. He stands and lifts the thick pillar from over you, clearing away the rest of the mess.

"Little help," he snips at the other.

"I think you got it," the other pulls a thin thread free of his glove.

"Miss," the other man kneels again, feeling around his belt. He frees a canteen and searches his pockets. He shrugs and pours the water over your face. He wipes the dust away with his hand then put the neck above your lips. "Don't swallow, you gotta rinse this stuff out."

He fills your mouth and you gag. He hurriedly sits you up and you hack out the liquid with a rattle. Your arms hangs at your left side and you grunt at the pang in your bones.

"Zemo! You just gonna watch."

"Yes," the other man answers smugly. "What are we going to do with the creature?"

"You're serious?"

"I am... on the lamb, as you say," the other shrugs.

"Get the car," the man holding you up growls.

"Wh-what..." you can barely speak for the pain. Your head droops as the room tilts in your vision and you stare down at the red stain across your pressed blouse. Blood. Your blood.

"Go!" The man yells.

The footsteps of the other scamper off beneath his grumble. The man lifts you as you put your head back and scream in horror. You feel the blood draining out of you.

"Shh, stop," he hisses as he walks over the piles of rubble. "Don't do that, alright? You gotta calm down."

"B-b-but..." you babble and put your hands to your side, feeling the warm stickiness.

"That's it, doll, put pressure on it." He girds as he nears the blown-out wall.

You whine and quake as you obey him. You tuck your chin down and focus on containing the flow. An engine whirs up and he angles you around to open the door. He slides you into the backset and follows you.

"Go," he orders the driver.

"Oh, Barnes," the man he called Zemo tuts. "Not such a cold heart after all."

"Be quiet," he snips. Barnes?

He slides something free of the pocket in the door and opens the small chest. He takes out gauze and folds it in layers.

"Let me get a look," he touches your hand with his. His fingers are forged in metal. Huh?

Your hand slips and he wipes with the gauze. He hums as he leans in, parting the torn fabric around the gash.

"Not awful," her mutters.

"Dying," you murmur.

"No," he insists. "Zemo, what are you doing? Taking in the sights?"

"Be calm. It wouldn't do to draw attention," he insists.

The other man growls again but keeps tending to you. He tugs your shirt up above your chest and wraps your middle, padding around the cut with a thick layer of cotton. He knots it tight then puts his fingers to your neck.

"Pulse is strong," he says then feels along your arm. You cry out as he touches left. "Can you move it?"

You try and shriek again.

"Dear man, her screams are rather distracting."

"Shut up." Barnes' lips thin. "Alright, uh," he unzips his jacket and slips his hand under, fishing around. "Just relax, doll. I got something will help you until we get you fixed up."

He slides out a metal tube. You squint, your lashes still covered in dust. A sharp point pops out the end. Before you can react, he jabs it into your upper arm. A coolness spreads through your vein and tingles over you, washing out the agony.

"Zemo..." Barnes hisses as your eyes drift upward into the sockets. "... you goddamn idiot."

💞

Swaths of black and grey fold into each other in the abstraction of your subconscious. You forget the ruin, the blood, the fear. You forget yourself as you sink into the pit.

A glimmer of light breaks the void. A thin line between your eyelids. Your skull pulses and you feel as if you're moving. You open your eyes completely. You're still. Laying on your back, propped up slightly, in a king bed.

Where are you? The world around you is unfamiliar. The tall posts of the bed frame, the canopy pinned back behind them, the silky duvet and sheets. For all the comfort, you are entirely uncomfortable.

Your shoulder hurts, your ribs and side too, your face is thrumming, and your finger is on fire. You look down at your right hand. Your pink is wrapped and splinted. Your left shoulder is achy, your arm bent into a sling. The blankets are folded right beneath your elbow, hiding the rest of your injuries.

You remember the earth shaking, the dust, the voices. Those men...

You peer around as slowly the edges of your vision sharpen. There's a large painting showing a scene of ribaldry, men and women from another era sloshing wine without modesty. The furniture is antique and polished, well-kept, the wall-paper vintage but not gauche.

Next to you is a folded paper standing like a pyramid. Next to it, a golden bell. The card reads; ring me.

You whimper at just the thought of moving. You don't even try your left arm. You reach and grab the handle, your pinky kept straight in the splint. You tinkle the bell and the noise rattles in your head. You put it down to quiet the sharp noise.

You wait. You don't hear anything. Nothing changes.

You close your eyes and ease against the pillows. You hurt so bad. You wish you could just go back to sleep but the pain keeps you restless.

There's a creak. You look out from beneath your lashes as the door opens. A man enters. Brown hair, browner eyes, and a permanent smirk written into his thin lips.

"Darling, you are alive!" He raises his glass of dark liquid and slurps bawdily. "Cheers to you."

You blink. You know that voice. The buzzing in your ears clears.

"Zemo?"

"You remember!" He winks triumphantly. "Ah, but you must be miserable. Scotch?"

He comes closer and offers the glass. He wears a silken robe that gives a peek at his fluffy chest hair. You frown and shake your head, grimacing at the ripples of pain.

"I do recommend it. In your state, especially."

"Zemo," his voice rolls like silt in the air. He backs away and turns to watch the other man enter. The one with the metal arm.

"Barnes," you croak.

He stops short and looks at Zemo. "Bucky," he corrects you.

You can only nod. Just once before you moan and quiver against the pillows.

"It must be wearing off," he shakes his head and approaches. He opens the drawer of the nightstand. He takes out another metal tube. "Half-dose this time. Don't wanna make a habit."

He pokes your arm again. Too quick for you to react. You sigh as the soothing floe overrides your pain.

"You do like them sedated, eh?" The other man teases.

"Why are you in here?" Bucky spins on his cohort. "Hm? And why aren't you dressed?"

"You should be praising me. I was quick to respond for her call for help. I did not even fully draw my bath. I came at once."

"With scotch?"

"Well, forgive me for enjoying the finer things."

"You are unbelievable."

"Me? You are the one who absconded with a casualty."

"I did not--"

"You should've taken her to hospital."

"You said--"

"You don't usually listen to me," Zemo counters coyly. Your eyelids droop as their argument turns to low drones in your itchy ears.

"Doll," Bucky startles you as suddenly he's beside you, sat on the edge of the bed with a glowing glass of water. "You need to drink some. Eat too."

You gurgle senselessly. He leans the brim on your lips and slowly tips it into your mouth. He gentle rubs your throat to make your swallow. It's almost soothing.

"We're just gonna get you back to new then..." he trails off into a sigh. "Wasn't supposed to happen." He trades the glass for a bowl. "Soup."

He offers the spoon. You bat your lashes and open your mouth numbly. He feeds you the warm broth. You close your mouth and gulp with effort.

"Sorry, ya know? It's not-- not what I'm doing-- I thought--" he shakes his head. "Does it matter what I say? Look at you."

You don't say anything. You can't. He feeds you another bite and you shakily move your right hand towards him. You touch the hem of his shirt. He looks down in confusion.

"What?" He furrows his brow, blue eyes swimming like water sparkling over the coast.

"Know... you." You utter as your brain flickers.

He shrugs and scoops up more soup. As he hovers it before you, you groan and lift your hand to touch his. You brush the metal plates of the heel cradling the bowl.

"Hero." You say as the thoughts slowly piece together.

He sighs and looks down. His jaw clenches and his nose flares. He glances over his shoulder.

"Trying," he utters.

You keep your hand up, shifting it to look at your pinky. You frown. He does too. He rests the spoon in the bowl and gently guides your hand down.

"Tried to fix you up," he spoons up more soup. "Gonna be a bit."

You take another bite. It's better the more you eat. Not as stringent. Your stomach slowly adjusts.

You watch him as you eat. That seems to make him nervous. You remember him from pictures and videos. On the news. In history books.

"Bucky," you say.

"Just like I said, doll," he affirms.

You nod and open your mouth again. He puts the spoon in and you suck it clean. Now he watches you.

"Sorry about my... about Zemo."

You shake your head and wave weakly. You push your hand on the bed and try to sit up. His eyes flash.

"Woah, don't-- you gotta take it easy."

You fall back and whine. He sets the bowl down and turns to help you, sitting you up higher as he adjusts the pillows. He draws back, his hands brushing your sides and he sits again.

"Doll, you need anything, you say so." He eyes you with concern. "Already did enough damage."

#bucky barnes #helmut zemo #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #dark zemo #dark!zemo #zemo x reader #bucky barnes x reader #series #marvel #mcu #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #avengers #captain america #winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier #collision

147 notes · View notes

wwprice1 · 3 days ago

Text

These are stunning! Alex Ross does it again!

#marvel #avengers #carol danvers #ms marvel #captain marvel #monica rambeau #bill foster #Goliath #hank pym #Yellowjacket #ant-man #the wasp #janet van dyne #iron Fist #danny rand #luke cage #nick fury #Tigra

104 notes · View notes

incorrectquotesmcu · 2 days ago

Text

Clint: Lila, don’t you have anything you wanna say to your brothers?

Lila: Yeah, but then you’d make me apologize for that too.

#source: the nanny #clint barton incorrect quotes #clint barton #hawkeye #lila barton incorrect quotes #lila barton #marvel incorrect quotes #marvel #avengers #avengers incorrect quotes

85 notes · View notes

billionairebratenergy · 1 day ago

Text

Wearing His Sins

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes never thought he'd crave seeing someone wrapped in something that once felt like a second skin of war—but when it’s her, his past and present collide in the most dangerous, intoxicating way.

Continue reading below ⬇

───────────────────────────────

The first time it happens, it’s an accident.

Y/N doesn’t even think about it when she tugs Bucky’s leather jacket off the back of the chair, slipping it over her shoulders. It’s late, a crisp autumn chill seeping into their apartment, and her sweater isn’t doing enough to keep it out. He’d left it there after coming back from a mission, the scent of wind, leather, and something distinctly him still clinging to the fabric.

She only means to wear it until she gets to the bedroom. Maybe steal a second of warmth. That’s all.

But then Bucky walks in.

The door swings shut behind him with a soft thud, his steel-blue eyes locking onto her immediately. Something shifts in his expression—sharpens. His grip tightens around the edge of the doorway, tension coiling through his body like a live wire.

“Doll,” his voice is low, rough, like he’s barely hanging onto his self-control, “the hell are you tryin’ to do to me?”

Y/N tilts her head, fingers playing with the worn leather. “Stay warm?”

Bucky exhales through his nose, but the way his jaw flexes, the way his gaze drags down her body like he’s memorizing the sight, tells her she’s done something else entirely.

And oh. Oh.

She doesn’t miss the way his hands curl into fists at his sides, the way he shifts his weight like he’s fighting the urge to step closer.

“You’re wearin’ my jacket,” he mutters, half to himself, half to her.

“Yeah?” Y/N lifts a brow. “You left it out.”

Bucky takes a slow, deliberate step forward. His flesh hand reaches out, fingertips grazing the hem of the jacket, tracing the seams with a quiet reverence. It’s old—older than their relationship, maybe—and lived-in, like a ghost of the life he’s left behind.

But there’s something about seeing her in it that has his brain short-circuiting.

“You should keep it,” he says suddenly, voice hoarse. “Wear it whenever you want.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes. “That would make it mine, not yours.”

He hums, stepping even closer, until she can feel the heat radiating from him, the sharp contrast of his vibranium fingers as they slip under the lapel of the jacket. His touch burns through the layers of fabric, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Maybe that’s the point,” he murmurs.

His gaze darkens, and Y/N swears she can feel the weight of it pressing against her skin. He lifts his hand, brushing the backs of his knuckles down her jaw, slow and deliberate.

“Bucky,” she breathes.

And then he’s kissing her.

It’s not gentle. It’s raw, consuming, the kind of kiss that steals the air from her lungs. His fingers tangle in the lapels of the jacket, pulling her closer, as if the leather between them is the only thing keeping him tethered.

Y/N barely registers the way he backs her against the wall, the cool surface pressing against her spine. His metal hand grips her waist, firm and unyielding, while his other slides up, fingertips brushing the bare skin beneath the oversized jacket.

“You got no idea what this does to me, doll,” Bucky mutters against her lips, pressing his forehead to hers.

She swallows, dazed. “Wearing your jacket?”

His grip tightens. “Wearin’ my name. My past. Lettin’ me mark you without even tryin’.”

Something deep in her chest tightens at his words. He’s never needed to brand her with scars or ink—she wears him in the way she says his name, in the way she holds him after nightmares, in the way she slips his jacket on like it belongs to her as much as he does.

And god, he loves it.

“Keep it,” he says again, more desperate this time. “Please.”

Y/N smiles, threading her fingers through his hair, grounding him. “Only if you promise to steal it back sometimes.”

Bucky chuckles, the sound rough and fond. “Oh, doll, I’m countin’ on it.”

And when he kisses her again, slow and deep, it tastes like something more than just leather and longing. It tastes like home.

───────────────────────────────

She starts wearing it more often. Not intentionally at first—sometimes she just grabs it on her way out, the familiar weight of it draped over her shoulders like a second skin. Other times, it’s because Bucky leaves it on the couch, on the bed, anywhere he knows she’ll reach for it.

She starts to notice the way his eyes darken whenever she wears it. The way he watches her, gaze heavy and unreadable, as if seeing her in his jacket does something visceral to him.

One evening, she walks into the kitchen wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and the leather jacket, and Bucky nearly drops the glass in his hand.

“Jesus Christ, doll,” he rasps, setting it down before he shatters it.

Y/N grins. “You okay there, soldier?”

His jaw flexes. His fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to grab her and haul her into his arms.

“You’re tryin’ to kill me,” he mutters.

She laughs, stepping closer, running her hands over the worn leather. “It’s just a jacket, Bucky.”

His eyes flicker with something dark, something hungry. “Not on you, it ain’t.”

And then he’s crowding her against the counter, hands gripping her hips, voice rough and aching.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the hinge of her jaw. “You wear this, and I forget how to think. Forget how to breathe.”

Her breath stutters. “Why?”

Bucky exhales, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “Because it’s mine. Because you’re mine.”

She swallows. There’s something unspoken in his words, something deeper than just possession.

Bucky doesn’t just see a jacket when she wears it. He sees a history he never thought he could claim. A past that still weighs on his shoulders, a piece of himself he thought he’d left behind. And now, she’s wrapped in it—wrapped in him.

It undoes him.

And when she tugs him down for another kiss, slow and deep, she thinks she finally understands.

───────────────────────────────

One night, after a particularly brutal mission, Bucky comes home exhausted. His knuckles are bruised, his body stiff with tension. He doesn’t say much—just collapses onto the couch, head tilted back, eyes closed.

Y/N doesn’t ask. She knows him well enough to give him space, but not too much.

So she grabs his leather jacket from the hook by the door and slips it on before settling beside him.

He doesn’t react at first. But then his fingers twitch, his breathing slows, and he opens his eyes.

And when he sees her—sees his past and present draped over her like a shield—his shoulders finally relax.

He doesn’t say anything. Just reaches for her, pulling her into his arms, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of her head.

And that night, when he finally sleeps—dreams untainted by ghosts and nightmares—Y/N thinks that maybe, just maybe, she’s found another way to keep him safe.

To keep him home.

───────────────────────────────

Bucky doesn’t even leave it out anymore.

Instead, he places it on the bed before she can reach for it. Slips it over her shoulders himself. Zips it up with careful fingers.

And when she asks him why, he just smiles—soft, reverent.

“Because, doll,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over hers, “you wear it better than I ever did.”

⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒─⭑⚝──⭒

90 notes · View notes

jobean12-blog · 1 day ago

Note

Oh all the love!!!! They are so good with her! 🩷

Hi! Can I please request a Bucky x fem!reader where she is a mutant (from present day) with the ability to time travel, but she does not know how to control/use her powers, so she accidentally sends herself all the way back to the 40s and she doesn’t know how to send herself back. She meets Bucky and Steve and they quickly become her best friends and also take her in because she has no where to live (due to her time traveling there, but they don’t know that) and her and Bucky fall in love and get married. After losing both her husband, Bucky, and her best friend, Steve (she, like the rest of the world, has no clue either of them survived) her grief starts up her powers again and she finds herself back to present day, right smack dab in the middle of the Avengers HQ while they’re having a meeting about Bucky (this is after he has been captured, when Zemo is about to talk to him). The Avengers are 100% ready to fight this perceived threat that just came out of nowhere, but Steve, after taking a second to process (he is BAFFLED), realizes that this is one of his best friends, his other best friend’s wife, from the 40s, and Y/n just starts crying and throws herself into his arms because her best friend is alive 🥺 He’d be so shook to hear that she was never actually from the 40s, but from present day. Anyway, when Zemo triggers the Winter Soldier to come out, when Steve and Sam bring him to that warehouse and have his arm trapped so he can’t move, Y/n comes along with them and sees her husband (who she thought was dead) for the first time since the 40s (for her it hasn’t been that long though because she time traveled back to present day right after losing him and Steve, so the grief is fresh) and Bucky immediately starts crying because his wife is there 🥺 (Steve 100% knows right then and there that he’s speaking to Bucky, not Winter Soldier)

Together Again » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: 40s Bucky Barnes x Mutant/Enhanced!Female Reader with Pre Serum Steve Rogers, Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Mutant/Enhanced!Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America and the Avengers

Summary: Your somehow loose control with your time travel abilities and it sends you all the way to the 1940s and you end up meeting Bucky and Steve. After hearing the devastating news about your husband’s death and disappearance of your best friend, or so you thought, your abilities send you back to the time period you’re supposed to be in and find out your husband and best friend have been alive the whole time and you two are finally together again.

Warnings: Fluff, language, crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the beautifully detailed request @kpopgirlbtssvt 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Gif credits go to the creators.

You’re still trying to get used to having the ability to time travel. You don’t know how to control them yet and you ended up time traveling to a time period you’ve never been to. You looked around frantically. You were in an alleyway, but you don’t know where. You ran out of the alleyway to find something to tell you where you are and what time period you’re in. You looked around, seeing old cars and not as many businesses as the time period you’re supposed to be in.

“Ma’am?” You heard a voice from behind you.

You yelped and turned around, seeing two guys. One is a tall brunette and the other one is a blonde who’s about the same height as you. Both of them have blue eyes.

“Are you lost?” The brunette asks.

“Very. I’ve never been here before.” You say. “Can you guys tell me where I am?” You asked politely, trying to stay calm.

“Brooklyn, New York.” The blonde tells you.

“What year is it?” You asked curiously.

“You don’t know what year it is?” The brunette asks.

You shook your head no.

“It’s February 1941.” The brunette tells you.

Your eyes widened and your heart started to thud in your chest. You looked around, trying to gather your surroundings. That’s when you realized you were getting judgmental stares from anyone who walked past you.

“Why- Why’s everyone staring at me?” You asked.

“I think it’s because of what you’re wearing.” The blonde says.

You frowned and looked down at your outfit. You’re wearing a sweatshirt, black leggings, and your favorite sneakers. What’s wrong with that? Your mind was all over the place that you completely forgot that women in the 1940s don’t wear clothes like what you’re currently wearing.

“How about you come home with us so you’ll be warm and I’ll get you something to where?” The brunette suggests.

You stared at the two men for a few seconds before nodding your head. You walked with them, both of them on either side of you.

“What are your names?” You asked.

“I’m James, but everyone I know calls me Bucky.” Bucky introduces himself.

“And I’m Steve.” Steve introduces himself. “What’s your name?” He asks.

“Y/N.” You tell them.

When you got to their apartment, you looked around and sat down on the couch, nervously played with your fingers.

“Bucky will be back in a little bit. He went to his parents house to see what his sister has for you to wear.” Steve says, handing you a glass of water.

You smiled and accepted the glass of water.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” He says.

You nodded.

“It’s ok. I understand. I used to be like that before Bucky and I became friends.” He says.

You smiled at how understanding Steve is. You and Steve maintained a great conversation till Bucky got home.

“My sister gave me a few options for you to choose from.” Bucky handed you a few hangers of outfits. “You can change in my bedroom. It’s at the end of the hall.” He says.

You smiled and went to Bucky’s bedroom. You laid the outfits on his bed and looked at them, trying to decide which one you should wear. You settled with a floral skirt with a matching short sleeved blouse. You put it on and looked down at it, smoothing it out with your hands. You went back to the living room.

“What do you guys think?” You asked.

“You look beautiful, Y/N.” Steve compliments with a smile.

Bucky’s jaw dropped. He was stunned by your beauty. He’s never seen a woman as beautiful as you.

“What do you think, Bucky?” You asked.

Bucky is still stunned. Steve poked his cheek to get his attention. He swatted his hand away, making you giggle.

“You’re drop dead gorgeous, doll.” Bucky finally compliments.

“Thank you.” You blushed.

A smile formed on Bucky’s face the more he looked at you. He knew he that you, him, and Steve are going to be great friends. Actually, Bucky wants more with you. He can see a future with you.

Shortly after that day, Bucky and Steve let you move in with them. You still haven’t told them that you have the ability to time travel and you’re not actually from that time period. You have a feeling that they won’t believe you. You might as well be honest with them and tell them.

“Bucky? Steve? I need to tell you guys something.” You say nervously.

“What is it, doll?” Bucky asks.

“I haven’t told you guys everything about me.” You say.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks.

“Promise you guys will believe me?” You asked.

They nodded.

“I’m not actually supposed to be in this time period.” You tell them.

“Of course you do, doll.” Bucky put a comforting hand on your knee. “You belong here.” He says softly.

“That’s sweet of you to say, Bucky, but I’m serious. I’m not actually supposed to be in the 1940’s.” You say.

“If you think you’re not supposed to be in our time period, what time period do you think you’re supposed to be in?” Steve asks.

“In between the 2010s and 2020s.” You say.

Bucky’s and Steve’s eyes went wide when they heard those years.

“You’re supposed to be almost 100 years in the future?” Steve asks.

You nodded.

“The only way you’d get from the future all the way back here is time travel.” Bucky says.

You stared at them, waiting for them to realize it, in which they did. Both of them had shocked looks on their faces.

“Did you use a Time Machine to get here?” Steve asks.

“Not exactly.” You answered. “The time period where I’m supposed to be in has superpowers and abilities. Those who have superpowers or abilities are enhanced or mutants.” You explained.

“Which one are you?” He asks.

“I’m a mutant.” You tell them.

“You don’t look like a mutant.” Bucky says.

“You look like a normal human like us.” Steve says.

“Thank you, guys.” You smiled.

“Which do you have? Superpowers or abilities?” Bucky asks.

“Abilities.” You answered.

“What are your abilities?” He asks.

“I have the ability to time travel, but I don’t know how to control them.” You explained. “So now, I guess I’m stuck here.” You say.

Bucky’s and Steve’s minds are completely blown right now. They always thought that superpowers and abilities were fictional in the books they’ve read. They would’ve never guessed that they’re real.

“Do you guys believe me?” You asked nervously.

“Of course we do, doll.” Bucky smiles.

You smiled and hugged them.

A few weeks go by and you’re still getting used to life in the 1940s. Bucky and Steve are making it easier for you to adjust to this time period. Also, you’ve started to develop a crush on Bucky. Bucky has the same crush on you as well.

“Hey, Bucky. What’re you reading?” You asked, walking in his bedroom and sat down on his bed next to him.

“Reading The Hobbit.” Bucky says.

You couldn’t help but giggle.

“What’re you laughing about, doll face?” He asks in a playful voice.

“You reading The Hobbit.” You giggled again. “That makes you a nerd.” You joked playfully.

“There’s no need for name calling, doll.” He says, still sounding playful.

“What’re you going to do about it, James?” You playfully taunted.

Bucky grabbed you, pulling you onto his lap and started tickling you. You giggled and squirmed on his lap.

“Bucky, st-stop!” You giggled.

“Nope! This is what you get for calling me a nerd.” He says.

“You- You didn’t let me fin-finish.” You laughed. “I-I think you’re a cute nerd.” You say.

Bucky stopped tickling you. You laid across his lap, trying to catch your breath.

“You’re cute too, babydoll.” Bucky says softly, gently cupping your cheek.

“Really? Even if I’m a mutant?” You asked.

“Yes.” He whispers.

Silence filled the bedroom. You and Bucky gazed in each other’s eyes. You sat upright and sat next to him. You leaned in at the same time as Bucky. You two kissed passionately. His lips felt so soft against yours. You and Bucky were breathless when he pulled away.

“Woah…” You say, completely speechless.

Bucky chuckles lightly. He then cups your cheek.

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” Bucky asks softly.

“Yes.” You smiled.

Bucky smiles and pecks your lips a few times.

———

“I can’t believe we’re married.” You say, staring at the ring on your finger.

“You better believe it, doll. This is our life now.” Bucky smiles. “Mrs. Barnes.” He says softly.

“Mr. Barnes.” You say with a smile.

———

“Do you have to go?” You asked.

“You know I have to, doll.” Bucky whispers, gently caressing your cheek.

“I’m going to miss you.” You whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks.

Bucky kissed you softly and sweetly.

“I’ll be home before you know it, babydoll.” He whispers.

“I love you, James.” You whispered.

“I love you too, doll.” He whispers back.

———

“Stevie!” You smiled happily when you opened the door.

“Hi, Y/N.” Steve says.

You hugged him tightly. You looked outside, expecting Bucky to be with Steve, but he wasn’t which confused you.

“Where’s Bucky?” You asked, looking at Steve.

Steve looks down and sighs, dreading that he has to tell you what he’s about to tell you.

“Y/N…” He begins softly.

“No.” You said. “I know what you’re about to say. Bucky is not dead.” You say, your voice cracking.

“I’m so sorry, but he is.” He says.

“He said he’d come home to me!” You cried.

Steve wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly.

“Tell me how he died.” You say.

“He- he fell off a train. I tried to get him, but he fell before I could get to him.” Steve tells you, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.” He whispers.

Steve couldn’t stay after that. He had to go back to the Army. You laid in bed, trying to process your husband’s death. You gazed at the picture of you and him on yours and his wedding day. Your bottom lip quivered and a loud cry left your lips. That’s when a bright light lit up the bedroom…

PRESENT DAY

The Avengers were having a meeting about the Sokovia Accords when you appeared in the room. You were on the floor, crying in the fetal position. The Avengers were alarmed when they seen you and they stood up from their seats.

“Ma’am?” Steve slowly approached you. “Are you ok? Are you injured?” He asks.

You quickly recognized that voice. You know that voice. Your crying stopped and your eyes shot open. You sat up, seeing your best friend.

“Steve?” You asked.

“Y/N?” Steve asks.

You stood up from the floor and ran over to him, hugging him tightly.

“You’re alive.” You whispered.

You and Steve stood there hugging while the Avengers stared at you two in confusion. They cleared their throats to get yours and his attention.

“Who is she, Steve?” Natasha asks.

“This is Y/N. She’s Bucky’s wife. She has the ability to time travel. She’s actually from this time period.” Steve tells them.

Tears rolled down your cheeks and your bottom lip quivered when you heard your husband’s name. Steve excused himself and took you to a different room to talk.

“I have something to tell you and it may come to you as a shock, but I’m telling the truth when I say this.” Steve begins.

You sniffled, waiting for him to continue.

“Bucky is alive.” He tells you.

Your eyes went wide.

“But- but told me he was dead.” You say.

“I thought he was, but I seen him.” He says.

“When?” You asked.

“Not too long ago.” He says.

“Take me to him.” You say.

“I will once I figure out where he is. I promise.” He says.

———

“Why did you bring me to an abandoned building in a different country?” You asked Steve.

“Bucky is in here. I brought him here.” Steve says.

You looked in the room Bucky is in, gasping when you seen Bucky. You went to run to him, but Steve grabbed your arm before you could get to your husband.

“Steve, he’s waking up.” Sam informs him.

Steve walks toward Bucky with you and Sam following behind him. You stayed hidden behind Steve. Bucky frowns when he noticed that his metal arm was wedged in some kind of machine.

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve asks him.

“Your mom’s name is Sarah and you used to wear newspapers in your shoes.” Bucky says.

You smiled to yourself when you finally heard your husband’s voice for the first time in a while. You stepped out from behind Steve.

“James?” You asked.

“Doll?” Bucky whispers. “Is that really you?” He asks.

Bucky thought he was hallucinating for a second.

“Yes.” You confirmed softly.

Bucky somehow managed to get his metal arm out of the machine. He stood up and walked over to you. Steve stands in between you and him, just to be sure he was in Winter Soldier mode.

“Steve, please.” Bucky’s voice cracks and his eyes tear up. “Let me hug my wife.” He pleads softly.

Steve looked in Bucky’s eyes, seeing his best friend and not the Winter Soldier. He stepped aside, allowing Bucky to approach you. Bucky hugged you tightly. He broke down in tears and so did you.

“We’ll give you guys a moment.” Steve says.

Steve and Sam left the room, leaving you and Bucky alone. Bucky cupped your cheeks and kissed you passionately. Your hands clutched the fabric of his henley, melting into his touch.

“I missed you more than anything, babydoll.” Bucky whispers against your lips.

“I missed you more.” You whispered back.

Bucky wrapped his arms around you, holding you against him.

“I love you so much, James.” You whispered.

“I love you more, babydoll.” He murmurs softly. “I’m never leaving you again. I promise.” He whispers, kissing the top of your head.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

294 notes · View notes