#Winter Soldier x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blythesarchives · 30 days ago

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To Where and Back Again. | B.B

summary: Bucky gets triggered to Winter Soldier mode, and his focus is on you.

a/n: This fic contains a brief scene of attempted SA. The scene will be marked by dividers. If you do not wish to read that bit, please skip the portions between the star dividers.

I'm not a huge fan of aggressive, 'dom!WS,' my perspective on him is completely different, but...I dunno. I figured I'd try the view that everyone seems to like more. My view on him as WS is extremely complex, and it changes depending on his healing stage. So I tried to keep true to my own views but also have some in there that people enjoy. If any Russian was translated wrong, please lmk. ;; wc: 8.4k

a/n post writing: I will not be writing this version of him again, I didn't enjoy it enough to write a dom!WS again. I considered not posting this, since I don't like how it came out, but I wanted to see if anyone enjoyed this version.

Alarms blared throughout the facility, their piercing sound echoing off metal walls as crimson emergency lights cast eerie shadows across empty corridors. In an instant, like a ghost melting into darkness, the soldier vanished from his holding cell without a trace.

No one stood a chance of apprehending him. Even Steve, with his enhanced abilities and intimate knowledge of his old friend's tactics, found himself outmaneuvered. The Winter Soldier moved with calculated precision, each step chosen to shake any pursuit. When he rounded that final corner, disappearing into the maze of hallways, Steve was left standing alone, the sound of his footsteps fading into silence.

Your heart ached with concern when you got the call he was gone.

Since relocating from his sparse, weathered apartment in Romania to your place in New York, Bucky had maintained a distance from others, choosing solitude over social interaction. Steve did try to interact, but his eagerness was too overwhelming at times and Bucky’s social battery wore out fast. Though he managed to function day to day, it was a constant struggle.

You became his anchor, sitting beside him on bundled blankets through countless nights as he huddled near the soft glow of a small lamp, piecing together fragments of his past, one memory at a time.

You were the one person he could truly lower his guard and feel secure around. Night after night, he would settle down to sleep on the floor beside your bed, finding comfort in proximity. Rather than leave him alone, you would join him there most nights, bringing blankets and pillows to make it more comfortable for him. Bucky protested each time, insisting you shouldn't abandon the comfort of your bed for his sake, but you could see in his eyes and feel in the way his body relaxed beside yours that your presence brought him peace.

So you continued to lay with him on the floor, besides, your carpeted bedroom was pretty comfortable.

When Steve's urgent call came through about Bucky's escape, a wave of intense nausea washed over you as overwhelming anxiety seized your entire body. The Winter Soldier's emergence after such a long period of dormancy filled you with dread.

The complex nature of his existence within Bucky's psyche remained too complicated to think about for long - whether he was a separate consciousness, an alternate personality, or something else entirely. You came to the conclusion that the Winter Soldier was indeed a separate identity, he was and wasn't Bucky. He had his own thoughts, his own way of thinking, his own demeanor.

And that made you extremely nervous.

You paced across your living room floor, unconsciously chewing your nails down to the quick as you tried to regain some semblance of composure.

He'd be fine...he'd be fine. He's smart, skillful, he knows how to stay out of sight and safe...he's survived worse situations before...

The persistent, gnawing fear of the soldier being captured refused to release its grip on your mind. Your thoughts spiraled into increasingly dark scenarios - heavily armed teams surrounding him, the soldier's violent resistance, and Bucky being forcibly restrained and dragged away to some unknown facility while fighting against his captors with every ounce of strength he possessed.

You really didn't want to think about it.

Steve tried his best to keep you informed of any developments, but information was frustratingly scarce. The Winter Soldier was a phantom that left no footprints, no evidence, no trail to follow. Each passing day, your heart ached with desperate wishes for his return. You constantly checked your doorstep, watching your window late into the night, hoping against hope that he would materialize there like he had so many times before. You would have settled for anything - a glimpse, a sign, even the smallest indication that he was still out there somewhere, anything at all.

The gnawing anxiety in your stomach had become an ever-present reminder of his absence. Try as you might to maintain some semblance of normalcy, your thoughts inevitably circled back to him like a compass finding true north.

Your mind raced with endless questions and scenarios, each one only making your anxiety worsen: Was he wandering the streets of some distant city? Had he found somewhere safe to lay low? Was he fighting his own battles somewhere, injured and alone?

Try as you might, your mind remained plagued.

Several weeks went by without a single notice of the soldier.

You were making your way back to your apartment complex from a nearby convenience store in the dimming evening light, carrying a small plastic bag with a few basic necessities. The street was eerily quiet, with only the distant sound of traffic and the occasional flutter of pigeons settling in for the night.

While you walked back along the familiar route, the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stood up as rough, calloused hands grabbed you from behind, violently yanking you into the shadowy alley you were passing. The hands were merciless in their grip, tugging at your clothes and forcefully shoving you against the cold, rough surface of the brick building so he could get a better grip after disorienting you.

You felt the sharp kiss of cold steel against your throat, while another hand roughly yanked your hair back, exposing your neck further. The man who stood behind you pressed close, his hot breath spitting against your ear and cheek as he spoke. "Make this easy and don't lie to me. I know you got some money in there." His voice was low and unsteady, wavering between excitement and nervousness, like a predator who hadn't quite mastered their technique but knew enough to be dangerous.

The blade pressed harder against your neck, the cold metal beginning to warm against your skin as he repeated his demand for money with increasing urgency, the edge threatening to break skin.

You obliged without hesitation, knowing that you were alone in this dark alley with no witnesses or help in sight, desperately hoping that giving him all the cash you had would be enough to satisfy him into running off into the night. Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you reached into your wallet, fumbling with the bills before pulling them out and extending them backwards toward him.

He snatched the money away from your shaking fingers with an aggressive swipe, and you could hear the rustle of paper as he counted it in the dim light. "A hundred bucks and you're carryin' around a pretty expensive bag like that?" He asked gruffly, his voice filled with suspicious disbelief as he violently ripped your purse from your arm, the strap burning against your skin as it was torn away.

Bucky gave you that bag - a beautiful leather purse you had admired longingly through the mall window months ago. He had noticed your gaze and worked extra shifts for weeks, carefully saving every dollar until he could finally surprise you with it. The memory of his proud smile when he presented it to you made your heart ache. You couldn't bear the thought of it being stolen, not when it meant so much.

"Hey, give that back - I gave you all the money I had!" Your voice cracked with desperation as you lunged forward, fingers outstretched toward your purse. The attacker's response was swift as he laid a vicious backhand that sent you sprawling onto the ground. The rough cement scraped against your palms as you tried to push yourself up, your cheek throbbing where he had struck you. Through watering eyes, you could only watch helplessly as the stranger clutched your precious bag in his grimy hands.

Without warning, his heavy boot connected with your face with a sickening crack that sent waves of pain radiating through your skull. The impact left you reeling, your world spinning as an intense burning sensation spread from your nose throughout your entire sinus cavity. Your eyes immediately welled up with involuntary tears and squeezed shut against the agony. Instinctively, you covered your nose with one trembling hand, feeling the warm wetness of blood flowing freely between your fingers, soaking into both your palm and the sleeve of your jacket.

Before you could process what was happening, a rough hand seized your throat, forcefully pinning you against the cold, damp ground beneath. The man's grip tightened with calculated pressure - just enough to immobilize you while still allowing shallow breaths.

"You're turning out to be far more trouble than this thing is worth," he growled in frustration, carelessly tossing the bag into a murky puddle that had collected near the rusted dumpster. His eyes took on a predatory gleam as they raked over you, like a prize to be had. "I think I need to take something else from you instead...and since you're not wearing any jewelry I can see..." He let the threat hang in the air. "I'll just have to improvise."

The man raised the knife to your face, the cold steel barely grazed your skin as he traced it downward, following the curve of your neck until it reached your collarbone. "I think I know exactly what I want to take," he whispered, his voice thick with malice. “You’re gonna be a good little thing, and stay still.” His hand slipped beneath your top, making you recoil at the revolting sensation of his ice-cold fingers and the rough texture of his tattered, fingerless gloves against your skin. Your instinctive struggle against his touch only served to anger him further.

"I said stop moving!" he snarled, pressing the blade against your delicate skin with more force. The sharp edge bit into your sternum, leaving a shallow cut several inches long before he began using it to slice through the fabric of your top. Pure panic overwhelmed your senses as your eyes desperately darted to your discarded purse. Your thoughts turned to Bucky - his sudden absence, his unexplained disappearance when you needed him most.

The crushing weight of helplessness threatened to suffocate you.

Self-loathing crashed over you in waves as you lay there. You weren't someone extraordinary or remarkable - you had no special training or impressive skills. What little self-defense you knew was useless against an attacker who so drastically outmatched you in both size and strength, especially now that you were injured. Bitter regret filled your mind as you berated yourself for not training harder when you had the chance, for not carrying something - anything - to defend yourself with, even a simple taser.

As you tried to block out the horrifying sound of your clothing being torn apart by his blade, your gaze was drawn once again to your purse lying just out of reach. The memory of Bucky giving it to you surfaced - how nervous he had been that day, the way his fingers fidgeted anxiously as he watched you pull it from its gift wrap.

That precious memory stood out so vividly now, the way his eyes had lit up with pure joy at your reaction. It was a rare moment of unbridled happiness for him, his smile brighter and more genuine than you had ever seen before or since that perfect day. Normally so cloudy and heavy with silent burdens, you were the one who brought that smile to his face.

The thought of Bucky suddenly triggered an overwhelming rush of adrenaline that sharpened your senses to the situation, surging through your mind like an electric current. Fragmented memories cascaded through your consciousness as you channeled every ounce of strength into a desperate defensive maneuver, squirming and positioning your feet against your attacker's midsection before unleashing a powerful kick that sent him flying backward, his body crashing heavily onto the rain-slicked ground.

“GAH - you bitch!” The man let out a pained, strangled groan with a venomous spit of words, laying as the wind had been knocked out of him for several seconds.

With your heart pounding a tattoo against your ribcage, you frantically scrambled to reorient yourself, turning onto your stomach and pushing yourself up with trembling arms. Your fingers clutched desperately at the waterlogged purse as you launched into motion.

You managed to maintain your footing as you executed a sharp turn around the alley corner, your shoes striking rhythmically against the glistening sidewalk. You were running on pure instinct now, like a frightened deer fleeing from an approaching predator. Behind you, your pursuer's voice carried through the night air, a stream of vulgar threats and curses that seemed to tear from his throat with increasing rage.

Fear kept your gaze locked firmly ahead as you pushed your body to its limits, your sole focus on reaching the sanctuary of your apartment building. The shopping bag of groceries lay forgotten somewhere in the darkness behind you, abandoned in your desperate flight. Each labored breath sent sharp pains through your chest, the cut on your sternum bled and burned while warm blood continued to trickle from your nose, creating a pulsing ache that radiated through your skull with every footfall.

The familiar silhouette of your apartment building finally emerged from the darkness ahead, though in your panicked state, you remained oblivious to the fact that the sound of pursuing footsteps had long since faded into the night's silence.

You were trembling violently as you stumbled inside the building, your legs barely supporting your weight as panic coursed through your veins. The elevator wasn't even a consideration - your mind screamed at you to run up the stairs, to get inside your apartment where you'd be safe. Your fingers, surprisingly steady despite the rest of your body's betrayal, found the key without fail and slid it into the lock with a metallic scrape that sounded deafening in the empty hallway.

The door flew open under your desperate push, and you practically threw yourself across the threshold, slamming it shut with enough force to rattle the hinges. Your trembling hands fumbled with both locks, clicking them into place before you staggered backward, eyes fixed on the door as if it might disappear. Your lungs burned with each ragged breath, chest heaving as you tried to force air through a throat that felt too tight, too constricted. Each desperate gasp was a battle, your diaphragm spasming as it struggled to maintain any semblance of rhythm against your body's frantic demands for oxygen.

The weight of your rain-soaked purse slipped from your numb fingers, landing with a wet thud beside your dropped keys as your legs finally gave out. The survival response that had propelled you home began to ebb away as your brain registered the relative safety of your surroundings, leaving you crumpled on the floor like a marionette with cut strings. A fresh wave of nausea rolled through your body as you collapsed onto your back, and you pressed your heated skin against the cool ceramic tiles of the entryway, letting their solid presence anchor you to reality.

You remained motionless on the floor for a while, your consciousness focused solely on the relentless throbbing that pulsed through your nose with each heartbeat. The long laceration across your chest continued to weep blood, creating a warm, sticky sensation that contrasted sharply with your exposed skin. Your once-whole top now hung in tatters, split cleanly down the middle, leaving your torso vulnerable to the apartment's cool air that raised goosebumps across your flesh.

After the intense tightness in your lungs faded, you summoned the strength to push yourself up from the floor. You wanted a shower, to get all the grime off you, and you began the arduous process of removing your ruined clothing. Your soggy jacket hits the floor with a wet smack; your shirt, nothing more than scraps of fabric; and your pants, uncomfortably damp as they clung to your skin.

Standing naked in your bathroom, you stepped carefully into the shower, eager to feel clean from the dirt of the city and the hands that had been on you.

It wasn't until the shampoo made contact with your hand that you realized your palms were thoroughly scraped raw, the skin torn and angry. The sudden contact with the soap sent white-hot bolts of pain shooting through your nerve endings, making you inhale sharply through your teeth. You resisted the instinct to flick your hand and get the shampoo off, it would be pointless in the long run. You’d still have to wash yourself.

A string of colorful expletives escaped your lips in a harsh whisper, and you abandoned any notion of a thorough cleansing in favor of getting the ordeal over with as quickly as possible, your movements now hurried by the stinging sensation that refused to subside.

The warm towel you dried off with would've felt nice if you weren't still in pain, the soft fabric doing little to soothe your aching muscles. While you attempted to tend to your injured hands first, carefully examining the damage and considering what supplies you might need, your phone suddenly buzzed on the counter beside you. The notification that illuminated the screen came from Steve, a text message appearing with an American flag emoji, thoughtfully placed by his name as a joke when you first added him to your contacts.

'He's been spotted downtown in the commercial district. Going after him with a tactical team. Stay home until further notice. We will notify you immediately when he is in custody. - Steve Rogers'

You had to hold back an eye roll at his overly formal message style, your fingers awkwardly fumbling as you managed to type back a response using just two fingers that weren't bandaged.

'You don't have to put your name with every text message you send, you know. I have you saved as a contact in my phone, like everyone else does.'

A beat of silence followed, your thumb hovering over the keyboard before adding:

'Be careful.'

You didn't really mean those words of caution for him, though - your worries were entirely focused on Bucky. The Winter Soldier would stop at nothing to get away from any perceived threat or danger, and a group of heavily armed SHIELD agents pursuing him would definitely register as a serious threat in his fractured mind. You knew all too well that when cornered, his first and most deeply ingrained instinct is to kill, without hesitation or mercy.

Distracting yourself with the mounting frustration of attempting to bandage your own palms, you struggled for what felt like an eternity, trying different angles and approaches to wrap them securely enough. After about an hour of fumbling with the increasingly mangled gauze, your patience finally wore thin. You dropped the ruined medical supplies onto the bathroom counter with a defeated sigh, closing your eyes and taking several deep breaths to try to calm your rising frustration before you became too agitated to continue tending to your wounds.

The quiet but distinct sound of something shifting in the neighboring room made you freeze mid-breath, your senses suddenly heightened as your hearing narrowed in on the subtle noise. It sounded like something soft had been displaced - perhaps a throw pillow tumbling from your couch, landing with an almost imperceptible thud against the floor.

You did not own a pet. You lived alone in this apartment - well, right now you did, with Bucky on the loose.

Had the man that attempted to hurt you somehow manage to follow you here? The thought sent ice through your veins, remembering the helplessness you felt.

Your heart rate accelerated rapidly, pounding against your ribcage, but you couldn't hear the rush of blood in your ears as your senses remained hyper-focused and alert, straining to detect any additional sounds that might betray an intruder's presence in your home.

You did not have any weapons with you, scanning the bathroom frantically for anything that could serve as protection. Your eyes landed on the medicine cabinet where a simple disposable shaving razor sat innocently on the middle shelf. Not ideal, but in desperate times, a shaving razor would have to suffice if need be.

You remained completely still, ears straining in the silence as you listened intently for several minutes before gathering enough courage to peek out of the bathroom. The darkness of your apartment stretched before you like an endless void, and you silently berated yourself for not having the foresight to turn on the lights when you first heard the noise.

After you heard nothing more, you took another cautious peek, your head venturing just a little further past the bathroom door frame this time. The shadows revealed nothing unusual. Your bare feet made soft, pattering sounds as they carried you down the hallway, the plush material of the living room rug cushioning your step as you reached it.

Your attention was immediately drawn to one of the decorative throw pillows lying haphazardly on the floor, displaced from its usual position on the couch. You reached down to return it to its rightful place among the other cushions, sighing to yourself.

A thorough visual sweep revealed no obvious signs of forced entry. The windows remained securely locked, and nothing else appeared disturbed. You were probably just being paranoid from what happened earlier.

Somewhat relieved but still on edge, you turned to make your way back to the bathroom to resume tending to yourself when your blood ran cold. There, barely an arm's length away, stood a looming figure. Time seemed to freeze as he stared down at you, and the scream building in your throat was cut short when his arm shot out with lightning speed, fingers wrapping around your throat.

Terror coursed through your veins as your eyes instinctively squeezed shut, your mind convinced this was the robber from before, somehow finding you in your home like a hound tracking its prey.

His grip was calculated as he drew you closer - not crushing or aggressive, but firm enough so you had no chance of pulling away.

"Цветок [Flower]..." The voice that emerged was rough and coarse from disuse, scratching against his throat like sandpaper. You swallowed reflexively around his iron grip, your eyes gradually adjusting to the dim light until his features became clear enough to recognize.

"Bucky?" Your voice barely more than a frightened squeak, sounding small and fragile even to your own ears, every syllable quivering with poorly concealed terror as your wide eyes remained fixed on his face. "Wh...where have you been," You started to voice the countless questions that had plagued your thoughts for so long, but the words died in your throat.

This wasn't Bucky - at least, not the Bucky you knew. The evidence was written plainly across his features.

His eyes held an emptiness to them, like staring into the depths of a frozen lake - cold, bottomless, devoid of warmth or recognition. His brow was deeply furrowed in what might have appeared to be anger, but lacked the heat of genuine emotion behind it.

Instead, there was a disconcerting blend of confusion and vacancy in his expression, as though he was caught between two worlds - not fully present in either, yet not completely absent. The man before you existed in some twilight state between consciousness and programming, humanity and weapon.

"Soldat..." You strained, your voice barely above a whisper as you attempted to forge a connection with him. You had interacted with him like this before, spoken gentle words that seemed to pierce through his conditioning, successfully managed to calm his volatile state. Deep down, you knew that beneath layers of programming and conditioning, there remained a fragment of recognition. Even if the Winter Soldier was his own identity, you knew he saw you as someone significant…even if it were small.

His penetrating gaze slowly traveled downward, taking in every detail of your injured form. The thin fabric of your bra provided no concealment for the angry wound that carved its way across your sternum - that long, jagged cut that traced a cruel path downward before curving delicately beneath your right breast.

His eyes lingered on your nose, now painfully swollen and decorated with spreading bruises, dried blood still clinging to your skin. You could feel his attention shift to where your hands rested against his flesh arm, your palms raw and scraped up from the earlier struggle.

His eyes narrowed.

Without uttering a single word, he released your neck in favor of your arm and guided you down the dimly lit hallway toward the bathroom, where a thin sliver of light spilled through the partially opened door.

"Сидеть [Sit]," he commanded firmly, gesturing towards the toilet with a motion of his hand while his intense gaze bore into you. The warm lighting of the cramped bathroom cast stark shadows across his features as you carefully studied his appearance.

Your eyes traced over him - he appeared relatively intact, though somewhat disheveled. Despite your thorough examination, you couldn't detect any concerning injuries marring his form, no purple-black bruises blooming across exposed skin or telling tears in the fabric of his clothes. The only betrayal of his condition were the pronounced dark circles carved beneath his eyes, though their presence hardly surprised you given what you knew of his circumstances.

Without resistance, you followed his direction without protest, knowing that any sign of defiance could potentially trigger his volatile nature. Though he had come to view you as someone of significance, you remained acutely aware that he was far from domesticated - his actions still carried an air of unpredictability that kept you vigilant. His piercing gaze shifted to assess the scattered medical supplies you had left strewn about, his expression hardening slightly as he regarded you.

"Вы ус��роили беспорядо�� [You made a mess]," he remarked, his tone flat and uninflected as he gathered the discarded gauze in one fluid motion, depositing it into the waste bin beside the sink. Though the foreign words held no meaning to you, the disapproving edge in his voice suggested some form of criticism.

"I couldn't wrap my hands." Your words came out as a quiet explanation as you extended your palms for inspection. The skin was inflamed and angry, scattered with tiny abrasions where fragments of stone and the rough terrain had scraped against your flesh during your earlier ordeal. The soldier's attention dropped to examine your injuries, and without warning, he pulled you upright, maneuvering you against the counter's edge as his solid frame pressed firmly against your back.

The proximity made your throat feel tight, a shiver running down your spine at his closeness.

One warm hand, one cool hand, both encircled your wrists from behind, his grip firm but mindful. His thumbs pressed gently against the upper parts of your palms, just below where your fingers began, as he tilted your hands upward to examine the extent of the small wounds. His touch remained delicate as he rotated your wrists, ensuring he could thoroughly assess your palms from every angle. The damage was most severe at the heels of your palms, where the skin had been viciously torn away, leaving raw flesh exposed.

Despite the anxiety fluttering in your chest, you found yourself trusting him, even in this vulnerable state. He turned on the faucet, adjusting it until the water flowed in a gentle stream, and guided your injured palms beneath it. The cool water ran soothingly over your wounds for several long moments before he spoke. "Need disinfectant." He reached for that dreaded brown bottle, the white cap making a sharp click as he flipped it open. The harsh, medicinal smell immediately assaulted your nostrils, making your stomach turn.

"No, that stuff stinks and hurts-"

"Да [Yes]," his voice resonated deeply, the tone both authoritative and reassuring, "Keep still."

You instinctively tried to pull away at the last second, your body reacting to the anticipated pain, but your efforts were futile. The bubbling, burning sensation that erupted across your already raw and flayed palms was as excruciating as you expected, feeling like liquid fire dancing across your tender flesh. A sharp hiss of pain escaped through your clenched teeth as his metal hand maintained an unwavering grip on your wrists, while his right hand carefully but firmly continued pouring the peroxide over your wounds.

The thought crossed your mind that you desperately wished for any other kind of disinfectant - something gentler, less aggressive. There had been countless opportunities to purchase alternatives during your supply runs, yet somehow you had never gotten around to it.

Words of protest formed on your lips, but remained unspoken as he allowed the peroxide to bubble and foam on your palm. His eyes remained fixed on your injury, watching intently until the chemical reaction subsided before finally guiding your hands under the stream of cool water.

You sighed with relief, the pain running away with the water washing over the wound. Tears began to well up in your eyes, rapidly blinking in an attempt to disperse them before they could fall. The intensity of the peroxide's sting had caught you off guard, leaving you feeling frustrated at your own vulnerability.

It reminded you of being a kid again, having someone else tend to you was a memory long lost. Now it had been brought back in a wave of emotions, the smell, sensation, and situation all mixing together to stimulate all sorts of reactions from you.

The soldier's keen observation skills didn't miss your distress - they never did. His towering frame leaned closer, bringing with it a sense of protective presence. His thumb began drawing gentle, soothing circles against your inner wrist while he continued holding your hands beneath the running water. "Хорошая работа [Good job]," he murmured, his lips brushing your temple in a feather-light touch.

The foreign words were lost in translation, but somehow that didn't matter. The low, reassuring timbre of his voice was comfort enough, wrapping around you like a protective blanket against the lingering sting.

You let out a soft, shuddering breath when he repeated the process with the other wrist, the pain burning just as intensely as before. This time, an overwhelming wave of nostalgic longing washed over you, causing hot tears to stream steadily down your darkened cheeks, leaving glistening trails in their wake.

"Тише [Quiet]," he murmured under his breath to you, "Hush now..."

"It hurts," your voice trembled and cracked as you fought to maintain the stillness he required, but the surge of emotions proved too powerful to contain, breaking free despite your best efforts to hold them back.

"Скоро все закончится [It will all be over soon]," the soldier carefully held your wrist under the cool running water once the aggressive bubbling finally subsided, offering blessed relief to your burning skin.

Peroxide was the devil.

He guided you back to sit on the toilet lid, his fingers working with practiced precision as he applied a soothing layer of ointment to your tender palms before wrapping them in clean, sterile gauze. "Вам понадобится марля, которая не прилипает к ранам, и липкая лента, чтобы удерживать ее на месте [You'll need gauze that doesn't stick to wounds and tape to hold it in place]," he muttered under his breath, continuing his ministrations until both palms were thoroughly and professionally dressed.

The confused, gentle tilt of your head and furrowed brow made it clear you hadn't understood a single word of his Russian.

He arched a single dark brow slightly and gave a small, knowing shake of his head. "Nevermind. It is done."

He reached out to you, his experienced eyes carefully examining the laceration across your chest. He assessed the wound and identified its source without hesitation.

A blade - specifically a pocket knife.

Approximately 4 to 5 inches.

Serrated edges that showed signs of poor maintenance.

The cut began with a forceful, deep penetration that gradually lost power as it traced across the flesh, creating an uneven gash that grew increasingly superficial toward its terminus. The irregular pattern suggested an amateur attacker, likely in a rushed confrontation.

The soldier released a disapproving grunt as he began treatment, cleaning the wound with gentle dabs of a sterile cloth. You were grateful for this relatively gentle approach, preferring not to feel the searing sting of peroxide you'd endured earlier. His expression remained intensely focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he cleared away the blood and thoroughly disinfected the area before applying a protective dressing over the awkwardly positioned wound.

"There. Законченный [Finished]." He withdrew his hands and efficiently disposed of the used bandaging materials in the nearby waste bin. Your nose had sustained damage as well, he'd done what he could to clean it, despite the limited treatment options for that particular injury.

"Thank you," you whispered quietly, your voice barely audible as you watched him examine the bandage with intense concentration. His eyes remained fixed on his careful wrapping job, studying every fold and layer with methodical precision, as if to ensure it would stay.

When his gaze finally lifted to meet yours, the room fell into a heavy silence. He remained completely motionless for several long moments, his expression unreadable as he seemed to contemplate something. Then, he leaned forward in one fluid motion, his strong hands grasping your upper arms as he helped you to stand.

For a moment, you remained silent, gazing up into those pretty blue eyes of his, now devoid of the characteristic warmth and tenderness that Bucky typically reserved for you. They were cold, distant, unnervingly empty compared to what you had grown accustomed to, shadowed by the calculating precision of the soldier's mentality that had overtaken him.

He returned your stare with unwavering intensity, his lips pressed into a firm line, offering no words. Your mind raced with things you wanted to express, but the right words seemed elusive, slipping away before you could grasp them properly. The only thing you could consistently think of was the dreaded thought that he would disappear again.

"Don't go," you whispered to him, "Please...I can't...I can't lose you again." The fragile plea escaped your lips and caused your voice to waver, betraying the emotions that surged through you at the sight of him standing before you, inside your apartment after weeks of his disappearance.

Bucky, Winter, Soldat, whatever identity currently inhabited the familiar body of the man you knew—continued to observe you right back with an unreadable expression, not a single flicker of recognition or emotion disrupting the stoic mask he wore. His powerful hands maintained their unyielding grasp on your upper arms, fingers pressing into your flesh with surprising restraint.

When you attempted to shift position to get closer, his only response was to tighten his grip further, a barely perceptible furrow appearing between his brows.

Undeterred, you squirmed again, desperately seeking to establish a connection with the man you knew existed somewhere behind those vacant eyes. The bandages wrapped around your hands created an unwelcome barrier between you, limiting the skin on skin contact you craved.

You managed to reach his face within his grip, gently cradling his stubbled cheeks between your bandaged palms—trying to feel the warmth and texture of his skin through the layers of gauze as best you could, searching for any spark of the man you recognized. "Soldat..." you murmured in a hushed, intimate tone, your voice still carrying the slight quiver of emotional exhaustion and lingering fear.

You knew he liked to be addressed when he was there. Bucky’s name was always met with confusion or anger.

He heard his name on your lips and immediately shifted his grip, large hands moving to firmly encircle your waist. His fingers pressed into the soft flesh of your hips, the sudden change in contact drawing an involuntary gasp from your lips. He lifted you completely off the floor as though you weighed nothing more than a feather, and carried you across the room before dropping you onto the bed.

You fell with a soft grunt, the impact momentarily knocking the breath from your lungs. The soldier moved with predatory grace, climbing over your prone form the second you landed on the mattress. His metal hand reached out, cool fingers gripping your face gently despite their unyielding nature. His eyes assessed, observed you closely, seeming to catalog every minute reaction that flickered across your features.

"H-Hey, Soldat -" Your voice emerged as barely more than a whisper, much softer and more vulnerable than you had intended. The word hung in the air between you, unfinished and trembling. His flesh hand moved down your body, fingers trailing with purpose until they hooked firmly into the waistband of your pants. He yanked the loungewear down to your ankles in one swift motion, your mind began to race wildly with thoughts tumbling over one another.

What the hell was he doing? This unexpected intimacy felt foreign and unsettling. You had never been intimate with the soldier before—this cold, mechanical version of the man you knew—and it felt fundamentally wrong, like a violation of boundaries you hadn't even realized existed between you.

You knew what happened to him, to an extent, pieced together from fragments of trauma that Bucky had felt comfortable enough to share during his more lucid moments. The torture, the conditioning, the systematic dismantling of his humanity—all of it had left scars far deeper than the ones visible on his flesh. You had never shown any desire towards the soldier for precisely that reason, maintaining a careful emotional distance when he slipped into this alternate persona.

Yet here he was, effectively caging you against your own bed and undressing you as though following some internal protocol. Maybe he was confused about who you were or what situation he found himself in. Maybe he didn't really understand what he was doing at all, operating on some fragment of fractured memory. Maybe this was merely a conditioned response programmed into him after he was forced to tend to a handler's wounds or needs during a mission—a thought that made your stomach twist with a complex mixture of pity and dread.

"Замолчи [Shut up]," He threatened in a low, guttural tone that brooked no argument, the Russian syllables flowing with practiced ease from his lips. The command came right as he peeled your bottom half out of its remaining, lacy fabric, the delicate material offering no resistance against his determined hand.

He leaned down, pressing his face into your neck and smelling you, a deep, deliberate inhale as he closed his eyes and memorized every little bit of your unique scent—the subtle sweetness, the natural warmth, the faint traces of perfume that had faded throughout the day. It grounded him enough not to just fuck you right there, even if his cock was straining desperately within the confines of his jeans, the hardness urging for release against the denim.

His scruff tickled against your sensitive skin, the coarse hairs creating a delicious friction that bade you nearly arch your back in response. His blushed lips pressed firmly against your pulse point as he allowed them to feel how fast your heart was beating beneath the delicate surface, the rhythm increasing with each passing second under his touch.

"Ты нервничаешь [Are you nervous]?" He asked in a hushed tone, his voice barely above a whisper, his warm breath caressing your skin deliciously, though you still didn't understand the foreign words that fell from his lips. He seemed to chuckle at that, a low rumble in his chest that you could feel vibrating against you, knowing full well you didn't know what he was saying. "Silly flower," he rasped as he pulled away just enough to run his lips further down your jugular, tracing an invisible path with his mouth until finding that sweet, vulnerable junction between your neck and shoulder where he lingered.

Your lips parted to speak, but the words died in your throat as his mouth descended upon that sensitive spot and bit down. Your eyes flew wide open, pupils dilating in shock and something else entirely, as you felt his teeth take possession of your tender flesh. His tongue was hot and demanding, swirled languorously around the captured skin, creating maddening patterns while he suckled hard, his strong hands pinning you firmly against the mattress, leaving you at his mercy.

A loud, unrestrained moan escaped from deep within your chest, reverberating through your body as he claimed you with his mark. His teeth pressed deeper, nearly breaking the surface of your neck, before he finally released his hold with a wet, sloppy pop that echoed in the dim room. His possession bloomed across your skin - a mark so dark, so angry, so blatantly territorial that it stood as obvious as sin itself in his hungry gaze.

The freshly marked skin throbbed with your racing pulse, sending waves of sensation throughout your body as it was finally released from his mouth. A pleasant haziness settled over your mind, leaving you momentarily disoriented when he pulled away. Yet his appetite remained far from sated with just a single mark. The soldier’s right hand slid beneath your head, fingers carefully threading through the roots of your hair before tightening their grip and pulling back sharply, exposing the vulnerable column of your neck fully to his attention.

"Don't wilt on me now," he chuckled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble as he nipped his way along the exposed column of your throat. His lips curved into a self-satisfied smirk against your sensitive flesh as he felt your neck move beneath his mouth, bobbing visibly with a thick, nervous swallow that betrayed your anticipation for whatever he was going to do to you next.

He bit down, again and again, making a garden of blossoms emerge across your neck and collarbone, each and every mark darkening to a deep purple as he released the abused skin from his teeth. The sensation was an addicting balance between pleasure and pain, sending waves of it down your spine with every press of his mouth against your sensitive flesh.

"Красивый [Beautiful]," he whispered against your skin, his hot breath fanning across the fresh marks, his tone still as gruff as it was, lower pitched with growing lust that seemed to emanate from his very core.

He leaned back from your panting form, pupils dilated with desire as he was drinking in the sight of you disheveled and helpless underneath him. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, hair mussed and lips swollen from his earlier attentions. The strain in his jeans became too much for him to bear, the fabric stretched taut over his obvious arousal.

The need grew too great and pulled you up suddenly with strong hands gripping your shoulders, pushing you down to your knees in front of him as he grunted down at you with barely contained need. His hands fumbled, fingers trembling slightly in his haste as he was hastily bringing the zipper down and pushing his jeans and underwear far enough for himself to spring free from the confining fabric.

"Open," he commanded, his fingers roughly entangling in your hair as he forcefully pulled you closer to his throbbing member. The swollen head was uncomfortably flushed and engorged, beaded with translucent pearls of anticipation, gradually becoming too heavy to remain perfectly balanced against the tiny slit. The little droplets slowly descended, trickling down the underside of his tip, leaving a shiny, slick trail in their wake. They languidly formed long, delicate strings as gravity beckoned them downward.

You watched as it pulsed once more with urgency, the veins standing prominent against taut skin, silently but forcefully demanding you to do something to satisfy the need.

The soldier snapped a harsh demand at you in a guttural tone, the foreign syllables sharp and commanding in the tense silence between you. Though you didn't quite understand the specific word he uttered, the meaning behind it was crystal clear from his posture, his expression, and the commanding grip still firmly tangled in your hair. It didn't take a genius to know what he wanted.

You shyly opened your mouth and he pulled you closer, fingers tangling back up in your hair as he pushed his thick cock into your mouth without much patience. You instinctively tried to pull back a little, just for some relief, but he held you firm with an unwavering grip that left no room for retreat.

"Нет, оставайся там, где стоишь [No, stay where you are]," He grunted with commanding authority, his voice low and unyielding as he savored the sensation, feeling the pleasant warmth of your tongue against him and the soft tissue of your cheeks enveloping him completely.

His hips snapped quick and brutal against you, establishing an intense and unrelenting rhythm without any sort of gradual build up as he held your head firmly in place. His strong hands were tangled in your hair, gripping you with unwavering control as his pelvis repeatedly collided against your face. The coarse hair at his base created a constant friction against your sensitive skin with each thrust he gave and you could feel the subtle burning sensation beginning to build where he held you down against him.

"Да...да [Yes...yes]," he growled out deeply, his voice rough as he looked down at you struggling to stifle gags around him. Your small sounds echoed in the quiet room as you fought to maintain composure. Your saliva was pooling steadily, bubbling and glistening at the corners of your stretched mouth before trailing down in thin rivulets along your chin as he continued to piston himself.

His touch was significantly more aggressive than what you expected from him, catching you off guard. Bucky had shown a distinct hesitancy when it came to physical intimacy when you had shared intimate moments together in the past, his approach had been consistently tender and thoughtful, always prioritizing your comfort and pleasure above all else.

However, his usual demeanor was gone, you knew that. The gentle lover you knew, replaced by someone whose actions were marked by an almost primal urgency, his movements firm and relentless in their execution.

You choked as he pushed past what you could handle, his soft cockhead brushing against the flesh of your throat and pushing deep into you. Your eyes widened a little, feeling him bulging out your neck as he pushed his entire length inside you. But thankfully, before you panicked or choked too badly, he pulled you off him and gave you a few seconds to breathe again. You gasped, spitting excess precum out of your mouth as your chest heaved with breaths. You felt like your face was a mess, thick saliva coating your chin and lips, the somewhat salty taste of him in the back of your throat.

He pulled you back gradually, allowing you to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation each time. It was subtle, but it proved that part of Bucky had to be in him somewhere. Though initially it had been overwhelming, you found yourself becoming more accustomed to deepthroating him, but the natural reflex to gag remained persistent.

You couldn't help but notice how his deep, primal grunts of pleasure sent waves of desire coursing through your body, making your core pulse and belly grow hot. A small voice in your mind whispered that doing this with the soldier was wrong, but the pull between you was simply too powerful to resist, and you surrendered to him.

And it was worth it when his head fell back, pretty lips opening as his hips snapped once more and he let out a loud, pleasured groan.

His balls twitched and his cock pulsed against your tongue, filling your mouth with multiple ropes of hot cum. You had forgotten the sheer volume he produced each time, the way it filled your mouth almost faster than you could handle. You almost swallowed before he was done, your cheeks pooling with his seed. As he slowly withdrew from your throat, you could feel the warmth pooling heavily against your tongue. His eyes were dark from his pupils being fully dilated, watching you swallow every last drop he had given you.

The soldier watched you recover slowly, his intense gaze never leaving you as your breathing gradually steadied. After his own measured breaths had evened out, he deliberately knelt down before you and reached forward, cupping your blushed cheeks between his calloused hand and metal one.

You caught your breath, looking up at the mostly silent man, studying the diluted emotions that flickered across his guarded features. A deep-seated fear reminded you of the situation - the possibility that he might vanish again, that the real Bucky remained trapped somewhere beneath the cold front of the trained assassin who had been programmed to feel nothing.

But as the thought crossed your mind, he helped you up from your position on the floor and guided you to the bed.

The soldier pulled his pants back on after laying you on the bed, causing your apprehension to grow stronger about him disappearing again. But instead of leaving, he made his way to your bed and settled himself beside you. A deep, resonant grunt escaped him as he drew your form closer to his solid frame, securing you under his metal arm. The titanium was cold against your skin but gradually, the chill of the metal became less noticeable, almost familiar in its constant presence.

You laid with the soldier, your head nestled comfortably against his broad, muscular chest and felt completely safe and secure. The gentle rise and fall of his breathing, along with the aftermath of his brutal face fucking, had nearly lulled you to sleep when you felt the sudden vibration of your phone on the wooden bedside table. With a sigh, your arm stretched out, fingers wrapping around the device as you brought it closer to examine the notification that had interrupted your repose.

The screen illuminated to reveal a message from Steve, and you opened it with heavy-lidded eyes.

'We haven't found him yet, have you heard from him at all? Anything? -Steve Rogers'

'Again with the sign off Steve...' You thought to yourself.

Your fingers had barely hovering over the keyboard when the soldier's swift movement caught you by surprise. He plucked the phone from your grasp and deposited it on the far side of him, well out of your reach. "Нет [No]," he declared firmly but gently, his metal arm returning to its previous position as he drew you back against his chest, tightening his protective hold.

"Ignore it," he murmured softly against your hair, his voice carrying a hint of possessiveness beneath its gentle command. You couldn’t keep the small smile from tugging at your lips as you gave into him and buried yourself into his chest.

“Okay…”

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Image from Pinterest & cropped

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miasshitsngiggs · 2 months ago

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I know if I'm haunting you, you must be haunting me

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan marvel #marvel mcu #mcu #mcu fandom #marvel #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #buck barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barns x reader

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unearthlyeclipse · 1 day ago

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JAMES "BUCKY" BARNES :: WINTER SOLDIER P! LINKS // NSFW/SMUT

A/N: I'm working on a requested Loki fic, and it should be out in a few days!! I greatly appreciate the support for all of my posts so far, you guys are so sweet!! I want to encourage people to send in more requests, not just for Marvel, but more!! I'm also working on Joel Miller P!Link post, so look out for that!! PLEASE SEND REQUESTS YALLLL!!! (Just make sure you read my masterlist first!!)

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, light BDSM, (brainwashed, pre & post brainwash Bucky all included and noted), semi-public/voyeurism, teasing, slight angst (kinda not really), creampie, rough sex, hair pulling, fingering, rising, double penetration.

Pre-Brainwashed Bucky Bucky had gifted you a lingerie set when he was overseas, and now that he's home, you are wearing it for a perfect occasion. You and Bucky were getting a bit steamy in public. You saw the looks he was giving you and your short sundress, his bulge becoming noticeable. You and Bucky are getting steamy after the Stark Expo. Giving Bucky a small tease before the Expo.

Brainwashed Bucky Bucky binding you and pushing you to your limit. Buckby watching your combined cum spill from your cunt. You and Bucky were on a HYDRA mission and were sharing a room you didn't expect to get so steamy in. Bucky on a mission to make you cum from pounding you hard. Bucky fucking you, pulling your hair back and kissing you desperately, his stubble ticking your face just right.

Post-Brainwash Bucky You're trying to hold yourself from cumming, but Bucky is using all of the power in his vibranium arm to get it out of you. Creaming all over Bucky's arm as he continues to finger you. You love looking down at Bucky when you ride him; he gives you the cutest doe eyes. Taking care of Bucky during his healing stage, helping him release all of his pent-up stress.

Bonus with Steve Rogers !!

You didn't mind the idea of Bucky inviting Steve for a get-together, but you had no clue you were going to be a shared gift.

Steve and Bucky taking their turns with you.

#bucky x reader #winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steven rogers x reader #captain america x reader #mcu #marvel rivals #marvel #p links #p!links #twt links #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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calzone-d · 6 months ago

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bucky who turns into the winter soldier that is hostile af to everyone else but OBSESSED with reader!

ws!bucky who doesn’t say more than one or two words at a time but is always within two feet of reader.

ws!bucky who lunges at anyone who gets a little to close to reader.

ws!bucky that just stands in the shower watching reader and making sure she’s safe.

ws!bucky who doesn’t sleep. just stares at reader.

ws!bucky who muffles readers moans with his gloved palms because in his brain, others hearing = sharing.

ws!bucky who mumbles in russian while he pounds reader who goes “I-I don’t understand…”

“you don’t need to”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier smut #winter soldier x reader #trying this out guys #pls give feedback #ws!bucky #winter soldier!bucky

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marvelstoriesepic · 11 days ago

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Your Ghost Knows Me

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: On a mission to dismantle a Hydra base, Bucky’s activation codes are triggered. And what does he do without a kill order?

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: mind control; non-consensual behavior (not sexual but bodily autonomy themes); possessive behavior; gun violence (implied, not graphic); threats of violence; emotional manipulation (unintentional); PTSD; trauma responses; forced proximity; mentions of Bucky’s past; Hydra

Author’s Note: I'll never get tired of a possessive Winter Soldier!! Honestly, I should write about him more often. Anyway, this absolutely iconic request is from my sweet dear!! Thank you so much, and I hope you'll enjoy ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

There is always something quiet about Bucky when he looks at you before the mission begins. Quiet in the way thunder is quiet just before the crack. As if he is holding something inside himself too loud for the world.

You always say his name and he would look at you like he’s afraid to blink.

You don’t think you’re supposed to notice the way he hovers at your side. You’re not supposed to feel his shadow, stitched to your steps. But you do. You always do. Because Bucky Barnes does not know how to stay subtle. Not with you. Not when he thinks you might not make it out of this alive.

Your mission is to break into an old Hydra base with heat still humming through the walls and ghosts still hanging from the rafters.

The team drops in like rain. Controlled chaos. Clint on the left flank. Sam from above. Steve on the right flank. Nat somewhere in the dark.

You are light-footed and fast and smart and alive. Bucky stays behind you. Always behind you. Watching your six. He never lets you fall.

And you get the proof of this for the thousandth time when he throws his arm out and grabs your vest to yank you back hard enough to make you gasp. Your heart stutters in your throat. You stumble, twist, spin - and crash into him.

There was a tripwire. You almost walked into it. And Bucky saw. He sees everything.

“You okay?” He breathes, voice low, not quite touching worry but brushing the edges of it.

“Yeah,” you whisper back. “Thanks.”

He nods. Says nothing. Keeps moving.

You press forward into the maze of concrete and metal that is the Hydra base, gun raised, heart playing the drum in your ribs.

Bucky slows.

You glance over at him. “What is it?”

He stares at a rusted door, barely ajar. A soft static pulses from within, like an old radio dying in slow motion. The sound crawls down your spine. Your skin prickles.

“Bucky,” you start, reaching for him. “Let’s move.”

But he’s already walking toward that door with narrowed eyes.

The room is dark. Cold. Frost is on the walls like a memory that won’t let go. A machine in the corner makes low noises. Wires twitch on the floor like veins ripped from a corpse. The air stinks of metal and mildew and something old. Something wrong.

And then it speaks. A voice, thick with static, seeps out of the machine. A voice you don’t understand. Not really. You can’t make out the words, but you know them. You know what they mean.

“Желание. Ржавый.”

You spin around, heart rushing up to your ears, calling his name, but it’s too late.

“Семнадцать. Рассвет.”

Bucky stands frozen.

Stone. Steel. Silence.

His face is slack. That haunted stillness takes over.

He isn’t gone. But he isn’t Bucky anymore.

“Печь.”

His eyes go distant. Flat. His face cracks into something you’ve only seen in nightmares. No fury. No fear. Just absence.

“Доброкачественный.”

“No,” you breathe. Your heart forgets how to beat. “Bucky,” you basically yell at him. Nobody even knew there were still functioning systems here. But they’d been waiting. Planning.

“Девять.”

“Bucky please snap out of this.” You know it’s useless. You don’t know why you say it.

“Возвращение на родину.“

Your hand trembles around the grip of your weapon as you force yourself to jump out of the shock your limbs are locked in. You raise your arm and aim. You pull the trigger. One.

“Один.”

Two.

“Грузовой вагон.”

Three.

Four times.

The machine sparks. Cracks. Screams. A dozen red lights blink and die like stars going out. The voice cuts out, perhaps wanting to give a command, a final breath of Russian strangled by silence. And it slams into the room like a body.

For a heartbeat, for a breath, you think it’s over.

You hope it’s over.

But his name dies on your tongue when you turn back to him.

Bucky doesn’t speak. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t breathe like a man. He doesn’t look at you - he tracks you, the way a sniper does. As if you’re a piece of intel.

Sam’s voice crackles over the comms. “Hey. We heard something. Everything good over there?”

You can’t answer right away.

Your voice is lost.

Because Bucky Barnes is gone.

And the Winter Soldier is standing in his place.

It takes you a minute to explain your situation and you hear the tremor in Steve’s voice when he tells you they’re on their way.

You try to breathe around the panic growing like thorns in your chest.

You whisper his name, again and again, as if it’s a spell that might pull him back. But the Winter Soldier does not know your voice.

Does not know you.

And when Steve finally rounds the corner, face pale, shield up, Bucky growls.

Low. Subhuman. A warning without words.

“Woah, woah- easy,” Steve says, holding up a hand. He looks at you. “He’s- He’s not gone. We’ll fix this. We can bring him back.”

You don’t know how promising he tries to make this sound.

But Bucky shifts his body, in front of you.

He plants himself between you and everyone else, like a wall, like a weapon.

Like a threat.

No orders. No hesitation. Just instinct.

He scans Steve’s hands. Sam’s gun. Natasha’s eyes.

Every time someone even twitches in your direction, he angles his body tighter around you, metal hand flexing. His breathing is shallow. Sharp.

He has no words. No explanations. He doesn’t seem to need them.

You try to take a step forward, away from his back. He moves with you. You stop. So does he.

“Please,” you whisper. “Bucky. Come back.”

But he doesn’t flinch.

Not for the begging in your voice. Not for the heartbreak in your eyes.

But you know he doesn’t hear you. He only hears the ghosts in his blood. The machine in his brain. The purpose Hydra seared into his bones.

“Alright, this can’t-“ The moment Sam takes a step forward, Bucky moves.

He grabs you. Not roughly, not violently, but fully. As if the air between your bodies has never existed. As if he’s made of magnets and you’re the only thing that ever pulled him north.

His metal arm anchors around your waist, his other hand at your shoulder, your spine, your hip - everywhere, all at once. He places himself between you and the others again and makes sure to keep you there as if you are a holy thing. His breath is ragged. Feral.

“Bucky,” Steve tries. There is something pained in his tone. Also something warning. “Let her go.”

But he doesn’t listen.

Because there is nothing left to listen to.

No more commands. No more codes. No more voice in his ear.

So he seems to have written a new directive into his mind and that is you.

You are the mission now. You are the purpose, the protection, the last thing left when everything else burns.

His hand is wrapped around your wrist so tightly, it makes your breath hitch. But you don’t pull away. You can’t. There is something in his eyes. Something not Bucky but not nothing either.

Not the soldier.

Not the man.

Just this animal of loyalty. Of violence. Of need.

You try.

God, you try.

You speak to him in pieces. In whispers. In words coming from trembling lips and bruised hope.

“Bucky,” you plead.

Soft. Like maybe softness will do it. Like maybe he’ll come back to the sound of your voice wrapped in love instead of command.

But he doesn’t.

And he doesn’t let anyone near you.

Not Steve, who takes one careful step and ends up with a knife lodged in the floor in front of his foot.

Not Sam, who reaches out and gets a warning growl that raises the hairs on your arms.

Not Natasha, who tries to circle behind, quiet as a whisper - and is met with the barrel of Bucky’s gun aimed clean between her eyes.

You frantically call Bucky’s name.

“Hey- easy,” she says, voice low. “Nobody wants to harm your girl, Barnes.”

He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t care.

He tightens his grip on you, fingers locking around your arm like a shackle. You try to find a piece of Bucky still breathing in there.

But all you see is possession.

He steps back into the shadows, pulling you with him, shielding you with his body as if the world is trying to take you and he’s the last wall still standing.

No one sees you now.

Because he won’t let them.

He moves you behind crates. Walls. Corners. Shadows. Always putting something between you and them. Always hiding you. Not out of shame. Not out of fear.

Out of possession.

Out of protection.

Out of a command he gave himself.

You are a mission. A precious object. A singular order sculpted into the ruins of his memory.

You hear Steve’s heavy sigh. His quiet and deep voice. The pain in it. “We need to sedate him.”

The next thing you pick up is the click of a safety releasing.

Bucky’s gun is pointed and ready.

He would kill for you right now.

He would kill them.

All of them.

Within the blink of an eye.

For you.

“No,” you croak out, voice breaking. It feels wrong to call him Bucky. It feels wrong to call him Soldat. “Please don’t! Don’t do this!”

You don’t know if it’s something in your voice or something in your tense stance against his back, but he slowly lowers his gun, slowly turns his head to stare at you.

Empty.

Unreachable.

But somehow not cold.

And then his hand rises. Flesh fingers trace your jaw. So gently it nearly breaks you.

It’s not affection. It’s assessment.

He’s checking. For wounds. For weakness. For threats, you might be hiding beneath your skin.

You breathe as if forgetting how to.

You try to shift. Just a little. Just to look behind him. Just to meet Steve’s eyes, Sam’s, Natasha’s, Clint’s - who finally got his ass here as well.

But Bucky moves. Fast.

A hand around your chin. Tilting your face back toward him.

Eyes narrow. Jaw locks.

You know what it means.

He doesn’t want you to look at them.

He doesn’t want you to speak with them.

He doesn’t want you to think of them.

You are his now.

Because something in his mind burned the world down and left you standing in the wreckage, and he needs something to hold onto. Not just anything. Not just anyone. You.

You try again.

Whispers, again.

“I have to talk to them-”

He shakes his head. Once. Sharp. Final.

“No,” he growls. Not language. Not word. Just a sound scraped from somewhere too deep and too far gone.

You flinch and he feels it.

His grip grows stiff.

Your body goes still.

He doesn’t want to hurt you. But he doesn’t let you go.

You catch the glint of Steve’s shield out of the corner of your eye.

They haven’t moved in minutes.

They’re waiting.

They’re watching.

They don’t want to hurt him either. But they will if they have to.

“Don’t,” you murmur. “Don’t come closer. Don’t- don’t try to talk to me, he- he doesn’t want that.”

You hear Sam lower his weapon, just a hair. “We can’t leave you like this.”

You want to cry. You want to scream. You want to pull Bucky into your arms and shake him until something clicks and he remembers you. Remembers himself.

But the Winter Soldier only seems to be remembering his duty. Violence shaped into protection.

And right now, that protection looks like isolation.

You. Alone. Tucked behind crates and corners and silence and his broad shoulders.

You speak anyway. Because you have to. Because he’s in there somewhere. Because he might not hear the others, but maybe he can still hear you.

“Bucky,” you speak. Swallow. “They’re not the enemy.”

His hand twitches on your arm.

“They’re your friends.”

He tightens his grip.

“They’re my friends.”

He releases another deep and gravelly sound.

His body is tense, electric, fury held in the cage of his bones.

“Please,” you say. You hate the sound of your own voice now. You sound like you are shattering in slow motion. “You don’t have to protect me from them. You don’t- I’m not-”

You breathe out shakily.

Your lip trembles. Your eyes sting.

Because he’s looking at you as if he would kill the whole world to keep you safe. And he doesn’t even remember who you are.

You press your forehead to his chest. His body doesn’t move.

He’s breathing faster now. His pulse thrums under your cheek.

But he lets you stay there.

That has to be something.

Behind Bucky, someone whispers your name. Carefully. Cautiously. As though if they say it wrong you’ll be ripped out of this moment and Bucky will hunt them all down.

You lift your head.

Bucky sees it.

Sees the way your eyes pull toward Sam’s voice.

Sees the way you’re still trying to hold onto them. Still reaching.

He doesn’t like that.

He hates that.

His hand finds the back of your neck. He pulls you into him, hides your face in his chest. Your shoulders lock. His body shields you like a fortress of flesh and metal and confusion. As if your gaze is a window, and he is closing the shutters.

You are not theirs anymore.

And he will not let you be.

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lazyneonrabbitt · 15 hours ago

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Mr. Barnes Pt.1

Bucky Barnes x reader

When Sam brings someone new to his council meetings hosted in the library, the mystery man becomes the hot topic among the librarians.

Single dad Bucky, librarian reader, Sam still has his counceling job. Imagine John didn't absolutely fuck up and is currently being a decent Cap somewhere in the background.

The library was quiet today outside of the scheduled ex-veteran meetings that were hosted once a month. You barely had any customer interaction today and you were bored. Luckily boredom didn’t last long as the men of varying ages started coming in for their meeting. The retired army men always spoke so kindly to you and your coworkers, especially the older, greying men who’d drink their free coffee and stopped for a casual chat whenever any of the librarians had time for them during their visits.

Like always Sam had shown up early, his ever-present smile and kind eyes drew a crowd like clockwork. He’d always be all sunshine and cheer while he set up the last things for the meetings he hosted and brought comfort food for the elderly. He made sure to bring something extra for "his favorite ladies" as he called you and your coworkers, as well. A few takeout boxes with a variety of foods were dropped off in the break room with a sweet little note telling the librarians to enjoy the food, signed by S. Wilson.

“Say thanks to Sarah for me, will ya?” You mumbled as you walked past Sam, making sure the others didn’t hear you mention the one who’d always prepare the delicious foods.

Today, though. Today was different. The food was dropped off without the usual amount of bravado, and the flirty suave Sam didn’t have as much eye for the ladies as he normally had. No, today there was someone else following him around and held most of his attention. Unknowingly, he held the librarians’ attention as well.

Behind Sam trailed a man looking to be around the same age as him. Although the beard and tired eyes did age him a little. Icy blue eyes framed by loose strands of dark brown hair that sat mostly tied in a messy bun. He wore a leather jacket, worn over what looked to be generations of living. A small scarf sat around his neck, hiding skin behind patterned grey fabric. Off one arm hung a motorcycle helmet, its visor gleaming in the overhead light. He still wore his gloves. Dull black leather covering his hands, leaving nothing of his body except for his face uncovered.

After the meeting had finished and the crowd had left once more it seemed like everyone on the team had seen the guy that followed Sam like a lost puppy, and Sam himself was all but forgotten.

The Steady buzz around the front desk made it clear no one was going to be doing any work anymore, only talking among colleagues about the mystery man.

The man showed up more often after that day. Without fail he was at each and every meeting Sam hosted, shadowing him like he would get lost if Sam stepped out of his line of sight. As time went on he started wandering in on his own, always in long sleeves and gloves. No matter the weather he always kept himself covered up.

It had become a topic of conversation between the library staff, all wondering what the man was hiding underneath. The answer that sounded most obvious was scars, he was a war veteran after all.

"Leave him be, girls." Sam had murmured as he passed the staring group of women once again. 'Him' being the man you learned was named James. Sergeant James Barnes, who "came to these sessions for a reason" and "did not need a gaggle of horny women trailing after him.". Sam, who used to be the object of the staff’s affection, was now all but waved off as he appeared to be blocking the view of Sergeant Barnes.

"I'm sorry, Sam. They're being assholes." You sat beside him after he finished another meeting, always staying behind to let his mind rest for a moment and have one last coffee before heading back home.

Sam only chuckled as he watched the other women swoon from behind the counter, over his friend who was making his way out of the door and actively ignoring every single one of them.

Sam leaned back in his chair, slightly tipping his body towards you and spoke in a low voice. "Oh no I get it. I mean, look at him."

=☆=

It had been over a month and still the library staff's productivity dropped to zero once the veterans, or more specifically, Sargeant Barnes walked in. They'd all greet the others as well to be less obvious, or at least try to. It didn't work, though.

Sam's sister, Sarah Wilson had prepared extra treats for everyone this time, some special occasion you didn't catch the details of but all the food was too much for Sam alone to handle.

"Can you grab those last ones? I gotta get started or I'll be wasting everybody's time." Sam came speed walking by with a stack of takeout boxes in hand, giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes.

“Of course. For you, always.” You smiled kindly as you spun to follow his figure, fishing the car keys from his jacket pocket and heading out to grab the last boxes and bring them over to the meeting room.

Once you made your way through the main area and reached the meeting hall after maneuvering through visitors with the small stack of food you could hear someone speak from the doorway. It wasn't the voice of an elderly man, like you'd usually catch as you passed the doorway, but a younger one.

The words made you slow your step, savor the moment before the speaker caught someone walking in.

You listened to the man speak about remembering..

Remembering victims. Deaths and killing.

He spoke of the violence in a sense of not even wanting to participate. Not then, and not now, here in the room with the others.

The tremble in his voice had you moving, walking into the room as quietly as possible with Sam's requested boxes that you set with the others, sneaking along the wall towards the table in the back and setting down the food.

You couldn't help but look towards the front of the room where the men all sat in a circle. It was only then that you realised who was talking. The man stood out among the greys that filled this week’s session.

It was Sergeant Barnes. He sat with his head down, a gloved hand gripping his left arm so tight you were afraid he'd tear through his sleeve as he tried to even out his breathing. The leather jacket he wore hung over the back of the chair and the dark red henley he wore did nothing to hide the tension and shaking of his shoulders.

He hadn't seen you, but Sam had. He had given you a quick nod in acknowledgement but returned his attention to his friend immediately after.

It was after the meeting when you saw him again, still frazzled from speaking up earlier. Sam was at his side, handing him two large takeout boxes of food, giving him a last pat on the shoulder and bidding him a safe ride home.

"I made sure to put in enough for you and Maxie." You heard him say as the two of them parted ways.

Maxie.. You hadn’t heard them talk about that person before, did Mr. Barnes have a girlfriend? Uou wouldn’t go feed Sarah’s spiced foods to a pet.

"Don't worry, girls. There's some for you as well." Sam mused as he passed the front desk where you were keeping busy with administration. You worked while the others swarmed around, pretending to be doing stuff near the front desk only to drool over Sergeant Barnes.

"Thank you, Sam. That's so kind." Taking the boxes from him you made a grand gesture of it and quickly put them away in the break room. You put effort into giving him extra attention, it bothered you how everyone else so easily dismissed Sam’s kindness. He was a good friend of the library staff, or at least that’s what you thought.

The second Sam was out the door as well, the first shoulder shoved into you as your coworker’s face inched closer to yours with a strange look on her face.

“So, are you planning to share what you heard in there?”

“Yeah girl, we know you heard Barnes talk, what did he say?” The desk was covered in women begging you to spill but you respected the men who came in to share their trauma in a safe environment and you weren’t planning on ruining something by sharing info that was no one else’s business.

Bucky’s ride home was a slow one. His head still spun from speaking up in front of the group and recalling memories of his time as the Winter Soldier. Even disguised as army talk he still couldn’t shake the voice in the back of his mind. The voice thet sounded eerily like a deeper, darker version of his own, a thick russian accent whenever it decided to speak english.

He almost ran a red light. Twice.

“Goddamnit Barnes, get it together..” He mumbled into his helmet.

Back at the apartment building after retrieving the food from his bike bags and slinging his helmet around his arm Bucky made his way up to his home where he could hear his daughter before he saw her, singing along to the tunes of her favorite movie she could quote by heart. Maxie had watched that movie so many times now that even Bucky wasn't immune to humming along to the tune of ‘Bad Reputation’. He had found himself humming the tune even when he was out and about, something about the lyrics that he tried to keep close. Plus, it made him think of Maxie, who hadn’t noticed him coming home yet with how focused she was on acting along with the movie.

“Really,” Bucky decided to announce his presence when the song was over. “watching this one again?” He leaned against the countertop with the bag of food in his hand, a knowing smile on his face as he watched Maxie turn around and jump up at the sight of the simple white bag.

“Uncle Sam brought food? Yay!” Within seconds she had climbed her way onto the barstool, ready for her autie Sarah’s food.

Bucky got everything ready with a huff and a roll of his eyes. Maxie always got excited when he brough home extras from his meetings, a smile on her face from the second she’d see it in Bucky’s hands or or on the bar counter that separated the kitchen and livingroom and served as their dining table. The place was just big enough to fit the big couch and a coffee table.

And yeah, Bucky could have picked a different couch to make more room for other furniture, but Maxie had loved this one a little too much. It also didn’t help that it was the perfect size for him to sleep on without having his legs dangle off one end or have his knees hang off the front when he pulled his legs up. No, that couch wasn’t going anywhere.

“Dad? You there?” Maxie knocked on the counter to get her dad’s attention, pulling him back out of his mind.

“Sorry, sweetie. Had a difficult meeting today, my head is still weird.” Bucky quickly grabbed cutlery while Maxie unpacked the bag and placed a box on either side of the bar top.

“M’sorry your day was weird.” It was all Maxie really said regarding Bucky’s issues. He hadn’t told her anything besides that he used to be in the army and he was seeing people to talk about it during the meetings he attended. Luckily she was a smart kid and grew up fast enough to stay home alone for the duration of Bucky’s meetings.

Bucky wished he could talk about it all more with her, but she was too young. She didn’t need all of that trauma dumping just yet.

Maybe he’d try and start with the simple being a soldier part, to at least create a little base to build up from over time.

He’d have to ask the kind librarians for some help, eventually.

#sometimes i write #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #winter soldier #the winter soldier #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #bucky barnes imagine #catfa #catws #cacw #thunderbolts

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reddesires · 2 days ago

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Play By Play

Bucky Barnes x Selective Mute Reader (Spy!AU)

Synopsis: Bucky is an eccentric espionage operative who enjoys the thrill of fucking shit up and bothering his beloved moody partner who puts up with his shit. They're the unlikely pair who work extremely well with each other. (it helps that they secretly love each other. And they were partners! gasp)

Word count: 4415

Tags: Cursing, tired reader, mentions of blood, mention of trauma, dummy Bucky, spy shit, scenes of violence, flirty/exasperated duo, bickering & banter, selective mute reader, smug bastard Bucky, love & hate relationship (they both love each other), I love them your honor

A/n: Wow, I actually managed to get this out with relative ease (sike, I had a miniature meltdown at some parts.) I wanted to make a banter fic so here is my hand at it. I tried, lol.

Flirty cocky Bucky is my favorite kind of Bucky, so this was self-indulgent if you couldn't tell.

He's an idiot, an 'irritatingly grates on your nerves incessantly' kind of fuckin idiot. He prefers his "pro no-bono method" which by the way made no damn sense but in his bucky brain, it makes perfect sense. It's making shit up along the way which usually ends with you having to pull away from your designated safe zone just so you can save him from his idiotic slip ups- swooping in at the nick of time so his dumbass doesn't get killed.

He has his moments. He's the smartest dumbest person you've ever met, but he's also the best partner you've been paired with.

He was incredibly adept when the moment really called for it, he was good at his job, he matched you on having a long history of experience of being espionage operative but he just couldn't help himself to 'spice' things up.

Truthfully, he was an adrenaline-junkie who craved more than the monotonous covers of the same old, same old. And you, his complete opposite who played by the rule book, just stoked that fire brighter.

You allowed him that space to be a complete dumbass because you possessed the proper brain cells to pull him out of sticky situations.

You have to remind yourself, 'He's the best partner you've been paired with. Deep breath, don't kill him yourself.'

He gets you, attuned with your movements both on and off the field. Dare you say that he was your closest friend despite all his headassery that gives you a constant throbbing migraine that appears the very second you can just feel he's about to do something incredibly stupid, though he calls it making 'very calculated risks'.

Again, he's the best partner you've been paired with.

With him there's no need for words, his ability to read your facial expressions bordering on something of a supernatural skill, it comes to him as easily as breathing it seems and he doesn't push for more from you.

Incredibly loyal and incredibly stupid.

You watch all the cams with a close eye- their positions settled discreetly within the elegant venue that Bucky is currently operating in, your eyebrow twitching in irritation as he stands at the bar motioning to the bartender for yet another martini.

Your hand immediately lands on the comm around your neck, your fingers nimbly pressing on the button, a series of beeps feeding through the comm in his ear. 'Stop drinking so much, you imbecile.'

The smirk that pulls on his lips is instantaneous as he quickly downs the martini without a second thought, his chuckle only causing your lip to twitch from the repressed annoyance.

"I've got this, Master Chief. Stop beeping at me,"

Your response is immediate. 'Don't call me that, dumbass. Eyes on target, get a move on,'

He hums as his eyes trail over the assigned target, he's steps away from the bar with an air of self appointed confidence and you have to give him credit, he doesn't seem out of place amongst the rich and the beautiful, he's devastatingly handsome in his black on black suit, so much so that it irritates you all the more.

'Remember, I need you to be within 2 clicks of the target. The transmitter will send a signal to his phone, I'll let you know when to pull back.' Bucky bumps into a young woman, his hand immediately settling on her waist as he flashes her a charming smile. "Sorry about that, sweetheart." Her eyes instantly flutter, and a flustered giggle pulls from her lips as he slips by her.

'Don't get distracted. After my signal, you'll need to slip into his office and plug in the USB," He discreetly grins to himself as he mocks the series of beeps in his ear back to you. "Bee boop beep, hear you loud and clear. In position. Now do your thing, R2-D2."

You roll your eyes as you activate your transmission, the signal only extending to your assigned target's device.

"You know this could go a whole lot faster if I'm closer, gives me a chance to attain personal details,"

Your hand immediately lands on your comm button, pressing down with no relent, releasing a high-pitched screech in his ear, and he jolts, a curse slipping from between clenched teeth, cupping his ear.

'The last time you did that, you flirted with the target's wife so much, you damn near got yourself shot in the foot,' the sound he releases is nothing short of a devious giggle as he mutters. "True, but she liked it."

The ping sets off, pulling your attention, and you quickly get back to the task at hand.

'Transmission complete, get in there. Also, for the love of god, don't do anything stupid. CO will have our asses.'

A smug look crossed his face as he rounded the edges of the ballroom towards his next objective. "Don't you worry your pretty little head," he simpers, "I'll keep the 'calculated risks' to a minimum."

As he steps into the compound, your hands move promptly, your expression one of exasperation as he slinks forward towards you with a goofy smile.

'I'm going to kill you. Where the hell were you?' His arms wrap around your waist, spinning you around, the action surprising you. You tightly hold onto his shoulders before he quickly settles you back on the ground, his eyes glowing with crackling excitement.

Your mouth falls open in surprise, your eyebrows furrowing with growing suspicion. 'What did you do?' You sign with a sigh, your head tilting. His laughter immediately follows as his hands settle on your shoulders.

"Guess who scored us the jackpot? Yeah, that's right! This guy!" He shakes you back and forth with the enthusiasm of an overly hyped child, and you feel the urge to groan out tiredly.

Bucky is an overachiever. He's down for whatever big score he can get his hands on, and obviously, you're dragged right along no matter how much you try to talk him out of it - a stubborn idiot.

'Let me guess, it's sketchy, but the pay is good?' You look up with an unimpressed look.

"It's in the Mills, Sweet-face! That supersedes all the boring details,"

You could kill him and hang him from the rafters for all the other operatives to see, then come up with the most logical explanation to tell your Case Officer why your partner was disposed of but unfortunately, Bucky was the most valuable espionage agent there is and unluckily enough, he was your problem so it was a no go.

'Fine, but if it's anything like what happened in Dubai, I'm leaving you behind.' You motion with a pout, your hands soon dropping grudgingly.

Bucky makes a sound of victory, a grin spreading onto his face as he sticks out his pinky, extended out towards you.

"Pinky promise and try not to die, Partner."

With a whole lot of mustered up willpower and prayers that you'll survive whatever scenario you'll be put in, you wrap your pinky around his.

The clicking of the keyboard from your work laptop filled the quiet space, your eyes slowly blinking away the tiredness sticking to the corners of your lids. Your lower back starting to ache and a headache beginning to settle in after a long day of browsing through case file after case file, so far it's all minimal details that do nothing to catch your attention.

You look to the side of you, Bucky's draped over the table with his head laying on his arms- soft breaths puffing from between his pouting lips, his eyelashes fluttering as he floats through the throes of sleep. He looked abnormally soft and calm, the complete opposite of his usual wild smile and smug look.

The way his face was fully relaxed, smooth of any crinkling and unrestrained chaos, he was unfairly pretty.

You couldn't help but brush away the curl that fell from the crown of his head in front of his eyes, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he shifted slightly in sleep.

Bucky was enigmatic in all the ways that didn't make sense, but to you, all those qualities made him - him. He often got on your nerves and you often threatened to leave him behind but the truth was, you were loyal to him to a fault, all because he stuck by you with no complaint the day you two were assigned as partners.

You were the newest operative, an unconventional agent who, for the life of you, couldn't mesh with every other agent you were paired with. Your silence and stoicism unsettling or impractical for them. You didn't care much for it.

Your trauma stemming from a mission gone wrong that rendered you into a vow of silence.

Their need for your voice further pushing you to close that part of yourself off. Your CIA career going down the drain as a result leading you to where you are now, in an agency that specializes in espionage operatives for hire.

You can still remember that day you met Bucky Barnes, the over-eccentric agent who managed to exhaust every attempt of partnership within the bureau.

His face smudged with black gunpowder and a bloody busted lip that did nothing to dim his beaming smile and those blue eyes as he was introduced to you by your CO.

"I'll be transparent with ya, you're more than likely the 100th person I've been paired with," he's entirely unashamed by that fact as he shakes your hand with the friendliness of a golden retriever with no self preservation.

"No worries, I'll be the best partner you'll ever have!"

And from there came a collaboration of the opposites, two forces that somehow synergized so well together that there was not a doubt about you two being their top agents.

It was exhausting, both the reputation and him, but you couldn't possibly think of it being any other way.

He's your problem and you're his solution.

Fire to gasoline at worst.

Your fingers trace along his jawline, a faint smile on your face as he hums sleepily, leaning into your gentle touch.

You secure a fleece blanket around his shoulders, tucking it around his hunched over figure before settling back into your research.

You hear him before he enters the room.

he sing-songs your name loudly as he dramatically slams the door open, ever the drama queen he was.

As he's passing the threshold, he turns around, moon walking then spinning breaking into doing his little 'dancey dance' right in front of you as you sit on the table with your leg pulled up.

You can't help but roll your eyes at his demonstration, continuing to wipe down your pistol with careful hands.

His little grunts of exertion as he's dancing make you want to throw your rag at his head.

he grins at you with a twinkle in his eye, clearly very pleased with the upcoming topic. "Guess what, Snoopy,"

You sigh, placing your gun beside your thigh and slowly looking up at him, your eyes tracing over him. He's clean shaven and emanating his usual aftershave along with his favorite cologne - he's usually mindful of his looks and hygiene, but this bordered on more effort on his part, like he was looking to impress.

'Don't tell me you harassed the new receptionist,' You sign with a flat look, that exasperation building in your chest as you pinch your nose bridge not caring for the gun grease coating your fingertips.

His laugh is instantaneous. "Come on, I didn't harass her! She was totally into it," he smugly smiles at you, leaning in closer. "So much so, she agreed to a date!"

'You cost us our last receptionist, Barnes,' You respond in kind, your expression mocking his before it falls as you shake your head.

"True, but only because I mentioned the background check and her newest fraudulent tax claims.."

'It's not easy being a receptionist in this economy,' You motion, shrugging as you wipe off the residue from your fingertips.

"Perhaps I came off as too intense?" He hums with a smirk before biting it down, scrunching his nose at you playfully.

'Intense doesn't cover it, more like stalker-ish,' You mirror his smirk, hopping off the table with ease.

"Occupational hazard, Sweet-face," he grins, swiping his finger over your nose bridge, rubbing the grease between his fingers.

You huff in amusement before you smooth down his shirt over his shoulders and slick his hair back with a raised eyebrow, signing. 'Behave out there, Barnes. We prefer to have a receptionist within our midst.'

"No promises, I like to keep you guessing." He says as he tips your chin with his finger before he's moon-walking towards the door bumping into it like an idiot, winking at you on the way out.

This is the 5th time in 10 minutes that Bucky has tugged at your hair, each and every time you smacked his hand away as if he was a pesky gnat, which in your head, he was.

'Why are you being so clingy?' You turn to him abruptly, your signing exuding your exasperation.

He tilts his head, his cheek pressed into his palm.

"Just missed you s'all," He says slyly, making a kissy face tipping towards you, it doesn't take you a second to push him away- your palm pressed against the middle of his face, your distaste clear on your face.

'Kiss me, and you're losing more than just your life.'

He giggles, nipping at your finger in retaliation. "Be still my beating heart, you flirt,"

'Please, shut your face.' Your forehead smacks on to the table with a loud thud, you definitely regret getting him that double shot espresso Red Eye with whip cream and caramel drizzle, he insisted- insisted was too nice of word- more like begged for.

You just hope his caffeine high would crash down on him before your wrath did.

'I need you to focus, you himbo,' Your hand grips his chin firmly, trailing his attention back to you, he grins. 'Our client is coming in. CO arranged a meeting for that big score you somehow attained.'

"Oh hell yeah! First impressions!" His voice muffled from his pursed lips as you squeezed his cheeks in between your fingers, your eyebrows furrowing with a tiny frown.

You release him from your grasp, your signing stern. 'I need you to be sane,' You poke the middle of his forehead, his head lightly bobbling from the movement. 'No crazy expositions and unnecessary rants again.'

The slow crawl of a smile slips onto his face as he pinches your cheek. "Sweet-face, you're cute when you worry,"

Your face is blank as you resist the urge to sigh. He's so infuriating- but the fondness that warms your chest overruled that fact more than you'd like to admit.

"We're a 5 star duo, we've never disappointed," his face falls into something softer, a flicker of reassurance in his blue eyes "I wouldn't let you down, Y/n."

You huff out of your nose, the corner of your lips tugging in a sideways smile. 'I don't doubt you, Bucky.'

His chest deflates subtly, your eyes immediately catching it - you're suddenly all too aware of your rising heartbeat. He truly valued your opinion of him.

You mattered to him.

He clears his throat, his hand rubbing the back of his neck before he tugs at your hair again. "Then it's a good thing you have faith in my pro no-bono method."

And the moment is dead.

'I hate the pro no-bono method!'

The thing you dreaded most other than Bucky's shenanigans was his first impressions. It always ended poorly on your behalf.

Whilst you tried to maintain a point of professionalism and poise, Bucky was the pin to that outlook each and every time.

You have no idea how your CO could bear to go through these meetings. You were barely surviving them without,

A. Wanting to jump through the nearest window despite being 30 floors high and,

B. Wanting to kick Bucky down the first elevator shaft you come across, but you supposed those were the trials and tribulations of being acquainted with the one and only Bucky Barnes.

The mischievous smile that threatened to break out across his face pulled an exhaustion that emerged from deep within your bones - the feeling appearing as an ache did when the cold winds picked up outside.

'Bucky, please. You look like you're holding back an aneurysm,"

His eyes were glued to the double doors with a strange excitable intensity, awaiting the honored client, but the quick glance over let you know he knew exactly what you signed.

"Hush, Gromit. I'm trying to focus here."

An indignant huff escapes your lips involuntarily, your lips falling into a frown as you glare at the side of his face, only causing him to smirk as he feels your gaze on him.

'You're insufferable, Barnes.'

You turn away, not bothering to see if he caught what you said, walking over to your CO's desk and roughly flipping open the client's file, your eyes scanning over the general information.

It was interesting enough.

Son of a corrupt CEO, in need of experienced espionage operatives to steal valuable asset information. Highly dangerous, could potentially end in shed blood.

Okay.. Typical Friday night.

"Glare any harder and you'll set the file on fire," He hums teasingly, his hands landing on the desk leaning towards you with a coquet smile- no doubt his way of distracting you from your grumpy mood before your scheduled meeting.

You supposed he was sweet for the thought, but you can see through him too well. He was only trying to soften the metaphorical blow to your ego once he transitioned into his characteristic 'first impressions'.

Your eyebrow twitches in response.

He blows you a kiss.

Right on schedule, your CO and client walk right through those double doors with the swagger of men who wanted to get down to business, and you could respect it, but you knew it wouldn't last long.

Your CO throws a pointed look at Bucky, his arms crossing and his lips pulled into a disapproving frown- he can feel the chaos that stirred up in the blue eyed man as soon as they walked into the room.

"Mr. Wells, I'd like to introduce you to our most elite members, Bucky Barnes and Y/n L/n." He gestures with a tight smile.

Bucky's contemptuous smile almost tempts you to smile slightly yourself- Perhaps you two had every reason to be boastful in your work.

You make your way around the desk, standing behind Bucky, nodding your head in greeting.

"What's good, man. We're the lowly souls at your disposal," Bucky simpers, a shit eating grin leveling his face.

Your head immediately snaps to stare at the side of his face, your mouth slightly parted in dismay.

Mr. Wells laughs in response, his brow raising in amusement. "Nice one, appreciate it."

You almost sigh in relief that Mr. Wells took Bucky's words with a grain of salt - 10 different scenarios flashed before your eyes from the idiot's comment alone.

Your eyes trail warily over to the trio as they slip into standard talk of the mission, you lean against the front of the desk with your arms crossed, listening into the more important details, trying to drown out Bucky's incessant side comments.

He's so lucky he had a cute face, or otherwise, his life would be on hard-mode from his cheeky mouth alone.

You couldn't help but disassociate as you stare in their direction, only snapping out of it when their conversation catches your attention at the mention of you.

"Does she do that a lot?.. Stare like that?" Mr. Wells asks curiously, his gaze shifting to Bucky.

Bucky grin hooks the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, I like calling her 'Silent but Deadly'."

"Like.. a far-?"

"Yeah." Bucky cuts him off while shrugging, and you don't even give him a moment to revel in his amusement as you slap the back of his head, his head jeering forward by the force.

A choked laugh tears from his mouth as he cradles the back of his head. "See?"

Your glare is searing as you lift your hand up again in a threatening manner, and Bucky giggles boyishly, putting his hand up in surrender.

That metaphorical blow to your ego was enough for you to commit both treachery and homicide. He's so lucky that he had a cute face.

Okay, this isn't anything like a typical Friday night.

You figured that this would be harder than the standardized ops you were usually sent on, but you never thought you would be up against a small militia of men that Mr. Wells' father had on guard.

The drive that sat in your pocket felt as if it was burning a hole against your thigh as you pressed against your hiding spot away from the men's scanning eyes.

You had been separated from Bucky, and you felt as if you were gonna throw up your heart from anxiety as you clutched the fabric of your shirt tightly.

Your comms have been intercepted, and you couldn't risk using them. you just wanted to find Bucky more than anything. The thought of him in need of your help caused your breathing to pick a more panicked pace and a flustered haze encompassed over your brain.

You needed to move forward.

There was no way in hell you would be leaving this place without him.

You ran up the hall, hiding behind a wall when you peeped two men running up the staircase, their voices carrying with rugged urgency. "He's up on the renovated floor! Trap him in!"

Your mind raced as you thought back to map layout of the building. The renovated floor is the 21st floor.

You slammed your shoulder into the stairwell door, immediately pointing your gun in the men's direction as you determined their positions from their loud footsteps.

Your bullet made its way into the first man's leg, he yelled out in pain, his gun slipping from his hand and down into the endless spiral of stairs. The second man runs back down in an attempt to save his partner but you're quick to make a head-shot and run up in a hurry, shooting the first man without a second to spare as you pass him.

You can hear the commotion from the renovation floor, the gunfire and screams bouncing off the stairwell walls with a vengeance, and you ignore it as best as you could - steeling your emotions.

You don't bother with stealth as you roll into the hall, staying low to avoid the bullets sent your way, you shoot up from your low position- landing each shot with practiced precision.

You run forward toward the end of the long hall, a choked breath trying to rip from your chest as you hear yells from the boardroom.

You quickly reload, throwing your empty cartridge to the side as you slam into the room.

Your world slows as you pass the threshold, watching your partner lose his footing as he falls through the broken window behind him as he dodges the knife swinging toward him.

"BUCKY!"

Three shots resonated through the air.

Your voice rang through the air, and it seemed all else was drowned out as he heard you call out his name.

His arm ached with the burning pain as he held onto the ledge of the building, glass digging into the delicate skin of his fingers, piercing them with the promise of scarring in the near future. He could feel his right arm tremble viciously as he threw his other arm up in an attempt to pull himself up. Blood dribbled down his skin in red rivulets.

What shook him most right at this moment is that while he feared falling to his death, he was dreading dying without seeing you one last time.

He wanted to see you. He bit his lower lip hard, hard enough that he tasted iron. He wanted you more than anything right now.. so much so he heard what he thought was your voice as he fell..

Did he imagine you calling out his name?

That question quickly died out when you urgently grabbed his forearm using all the strength you could possibly muster, your eyes glassy, and your expression so desperate as you clutched onto him to pull him into safety.

He could hear the panic-stricken pace of your breathing. He's seen you like this once before and it destroyed him as it did before, and as he's pulled over the ledge, his chest both somehow constricted and expanded as he instantly pushed himself into your space.

You're here. He's so relieved and grateful that you're once again here for him.

"You're an angel, both physically and vocally." He says breathlessly as he grabs the back of your head, pressing a hurried kiss to your forehead.

He knew the humorous compliment after a near death experience was certainly a choice, but he didn't worry about it as he knew that you could see right through him. You always did.

When you two were safe and sound, he would properly handle it. You weren't the only one who could feel the remnants of dark doubt that hung over the two of you.

Your lips pull back in a relieved smile as you grip onto his shoulders, an exhaustion radiating off you as you shakily tilt your head.

Bucky quickly pulls you behind him, ducking behind cover as he hears the oncoming footsteps of men stomping their way down the hall. His hand grazing over his flash bomb and double-checking his ammunition in his gun.

You settle next to him, your expression schooling itself immediately with practiced ease, your hand pulling back the hammer of your pistol, emptying itself of the hollow shells.

"Bucky.." His head whips back in your direction, breathless as he awaits your next words.

You stick out your pinky. "You promised." Your voice is low and shaky from disuse.

There's a dazed look in his eyes - as if all other surrounding sound didn't matter to him but your voice.

The quintessence of all that was worthy of reverence.

'Oh fuck.' Crosses his mind within a split second.

He doesn't hesitate to wrap his pinky around yours, pulling your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles with vigor.

"I promised."

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #james barnes #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #james buchanan barnes #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction

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orithyia-eriphyle · 1 month ago

Text

summer breeze - b. barnes x reader

Summary: The one where Bucky is still adjusting to his newfound freedom, and you are his light at the end of the tunnel.

Warnings: Swearing, non-sexual nudity, injuries, and blood.

Reader has sun/solar-based abilities.

6.1k words

Bucky Barnes was a man of few words. He said only what was necessary and hardly spoke unless spoken to. Steve seemed to be the only person who could ever get Bucky to talk freely. Sam was a close second, although he teased Bucky more than once until the soldier was grumbling expletives under his breath with a clenched fist.

However, Bucky was a creature of habit.

He woke at dawn every day to go on a run with Sam and Steve, not before drinking a hot cup of black coffee. After his jog, he would train in the gym for two hours and then leave for a shower. He would then make himself a simple lunch and catch up on work. Lastly, Bucky ended his night by reading a book of his choice to help ease his mind.

When Bucky began to deviate from said routine about two months ago, it did not go unnoticed.

It started not too long after Bucky had moved into the tower. Bucky had been placed on the same floor as you, his bedroom right across the hall from yours.

You would wake as he was coming back from the gym, usually catching him on the way back to his ensuite bathroom for a shower. You would greet him with the same sugary sweet smile and voice that almost tempted the super soldier to crack from his usual brooding and smile back.

But he never did. At least, not until recently.

You knew that Bucky had nightmares. You could hear him at night. The screams of pain, terror, guilt. You name it.

Every time his nightmares woke you up, the only thing you wanted to do was help. However, Steve and Tony advised against it. They reminded you that Bucky was still unstable, and it was best to let him ride out his nightmares alone, no matter how terrible they may sound.

You hated it.

Some nights, you would stay up staring at the dark ceiling in your room, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks at the sound of his yells. It would never last longer than a few minutes. But those few minutes were enough for you to feel your heart break for him.

After roughly a month of only seeing Bucky in passing, he surprised you.

You and Natasha had been on a week-long mission across seas and were scheduled to return home that night. You had practically stumbled off the Quinjet, your bones and muscles aching with exhaustion. You walked past the medbay despite Natasha’s protest to at least get checked on. Instead, opt for a hot shower and your warm bed.

What you didn’t expect was to find Bucky sitting at your shared kitchen counter, a hot plate of spaghetti set on the bar across from him.

As soon as the elevator doors dinged open, his gaze shot to you. You tried to ignore the way it roamed over your body, as if assessing for any injury, as you approached the kitchen.

Seeing Bucky in the kitchen wasn’t an unusual sight for you. However, it was well past midnight, meaning it was well past Bucky’s unspoken bedtime.

“What’s this?” You ask quietly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful silence that enveloped the two of you.

Bucky glanced at the food, then back to you. His face never changing. “It’s for you.” He spoke, his voice coming out gruff as if it hadn’t been used in a while. Which it probably hadn’t.

You quirked a brow at him but took a seat in front of the plate. This was an unusual display from him, and the last thing you wanted to do was embarrass or scare him off.

You swirled the noodles around your fork and took a bite, savoring the taste as it melted against your tongue.

“You don’t eat after missions.”

Your eyes shot to Bucky at the sound of his voice. However, he was looking at the counter and not at you.

“It doesn’t really cross my mind.” You reply, returning to your meal.

“You need to eat.” He responded firmly. The clipped way in which he spoke made you not want to argue.

“I might be more inclined to eat after a mission if I came home to home-cooked meals every time.” You attempted to joke with him. He didn’t even smirk.

He pointed at your plate, “Eat.” He said before stalking off back towards his room.

Your gaze followed his broad shoulders. “Thank you!” You remembered to shout down the hall, not missing the way his footsteps halted for hardly a millisecond. You smiled down at your food, glad to see that he cared in his own, quiet way.

The next mission you came back from, there was a hot plate of food already waiting for you on the counter.

You shoot awake in your bed at the sound of a scream followed by loud bangs. You knew who it was. Bucky’s nightmares were bad, but he had yet to get violent.

You sat in your bed and stared at your bedroom door as if willing yourself to see through the walls separating the two of you.

Every instinct in your body screamed to help him. Help him not suffer anymore. But the voices of Steve and Tony rang in your head, warning you against it. You contemplated as the violent noises didn’t let up, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth.

Fuck it. You’re an Avenger. If he tries to kill you, then you’ll figure it out.

You slipped out of bed, the cool air hitting your bare legs. You snapped your fingers, a small glowing ball forming above your hand and lighting up the surrounding area. You pushed your bedroom door open and crept across the hall to Bucky’s room. You paused in front of his door, taking a deep breath as your heart thrummed unsteadily in your chest.

You pushed the handle down slowly, pushing the door open and extending your makeshift light into the room to see. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust, but then you saw him, and the sight in front of you just about broke you.

His usually large form was made small against the corner of his room. His knees were folded to his chest and his head tucked down. You could see his body tremble violently from where you stood in the doorway.

“Bucky.” You called out, gentle yet firm.

He didn’t seem to hear you, his head still tucked and his body shaking.

You took another deep breath, scolding yourself for being stupid before stepping further into the room and towards the soldier. As you got closer, you could make out the sound of his stuttered breathing and the occasional hitch. Your frown deepened.

“Bucky? Bucky, it’s me. (Y/n).” You spoke again, slowly kneeling in front of the man.

Still no response.

You breathed out a long breath through your nose before closing your eyes briefly.

You reached a hand out to him, slow and careful. As gently as you could manage, you placed a hand on his shoulder.

Before you could even react, your body was slammed to the floor, and an arm was pressed across your chest, holding you down.

Bucky stared down at you with wild eyes. His forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat, and his breathing was labored. His arm on your chest was firm, but you could feel the way that it shook against you.

“Bucky! Hey! It’s me!” Your voice rose slightly despite you trying to stay calm.

Bucky’s hold on you didn’t let up. All he did was continue to stare at you with that blank stare, as if he weren’t all there.

Your chest heaved as you tried to think, looking around the room. Suddenly, it hit you.

You evened out your breathing and reached a steady hand out to him. His eyes darted between you and your hand, but he didn’t stop you.

You gently placed your hand against his stubble-covered cheek. You spoke to him softly. Like a mother calming down her frightened child.

“It’s okay, Buck. I’m right here. You’re safe.” You paused as you felt the pressure on your chest let up a bit. You continued, “They can’t make you do anything here, Bucky. I’m here. (Y/n) is right here with you. I won’t let them hurt you again.” You whispered, softly running your thumb over the curve of his jaw.

You watched as the light slowly returned to his blue eyes, and his breathing began to slow again.

“(Y-Y/n)?” Bucky croaked out, his voice rough from yelling.

You smiled at him. “Yeah, Buck. It’s me.” Your hand never left his face.

Buckt seemed to finally realize the situation you were in, and he retracted his arm like he had been burned. He scrambled backwards until his back hit the side of his bed.

“Y-You need to leave. I don’t want to hurt you.” He stuttered out, his eyes not meeting your own. You smiled at him gently and scooted towards him.

“But you didn’t, Buck. You didn’t even come close.” You stated, placing a firm hand against his vibranium arm.

“But-”

“No buts. I’m okay. You’re okay.” You interjected, not wanting him to linger on the prospect of accidentally hurting you any longer.

There was a brief pause between you two as Bucky’s breath finally evened out fully. “Why are you in here?” He questioned gruffly.

You tilted your head at him as if he should know the answer to that already. “I was worried and wanted to help.” You responded, never raising your voice over a whisper.

Bucky let out a self-deprecating scoff. “I can deal with the nightmares on my own.” He said, once again avoiding your gaze.

You grabbe his jaw once again, ignoring the way he stiffened for a second and tilted his eyes up to meet yours.

“You don’t have to deal with them on your own.” You reassured him, your gaze unwavering. Bucky swallowed as he stared at you. You realized he might be uncomfortable being so close to someone he hardly knew, so you scooted away and dropped your hand from his face.

Bucky tried to ignore the twinge of disappointment he felt.

Since that night, you and Bucky had gotten noticeably closer.

He lingered around the compound more and followed you around like a lost puppy. He would do small things for you. things he wouldn’t do for anyone else.

He would grab things for you off the top shelf that you couldn’t quite reach. He waited for you outside the gym so he could walk you back to your shared floor. He would make an extra pot of coffee in the morning for when you woke up.

The others began to notice.

One day, Sam and Steve were visiting Bucky on your guys’ floor. You were out with Wanda and Natasha and would be returning anytime now.

Bucky stood at the oven, the sound of food sizzling on a pan bouncing around the kitchen.

“I didn’t take you for a chicken tender guy, Barnes,” Sam stated as he sat at the kitchen bar with Steve. Bucky didn’t even glance over his shoulder before responding.

“(Y/n) likes them.” He said in his usual gruff tone.

Sam looked at Steve, who just shrugged. Sam continued with his teasing.

“So you’re making lunch for (Y/n), who isn’t even home yet, and won’t make any for us?” Sam said with a quirked brow.

This time, Bucky threw a quick look at the two men over his shoulder before turning back to the stove. “(Y/n) likes my cooking.” He stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Right on cue, the elevator doors opened, and you walked through. “Hey, boys.” You greeted casually as you beelined straight for Bucky. They didn’t miss the small quirk on his lips as he watched you approach him.

“Hey, Buck.” You greeted him separately, placing a gentle hand on the middle of his back, right between his shoulder blades. You looked down at the pan of chicken. “You makin’ yourself some lunch?” You questioned quietly. Bucky shook his head lightly.

“It’s for you…if you want it.” He said in an almost timid manner, afraid you would reject his cooking despite never having done so before.

Your smile was blinding as you looked back up at him. “I could never say no to your cooking, Bucky. Thank you.” You said, a sincere grin stretched across your face.

Sam and Steve watched the almost domestic interaction before excusing themselves and heading to the elevator.

“Man, did you see that?!” Sam questioned with an incredulous wave of his arms as soon as the doors of the elevator shut.

“I haven’t seen him act that comfortable around anybody but me,” Steve replied, brows furrowed. “I figured they would warm up to each other eventually due to the proximity, but I never expected it to happen this quick,” Steve stated. His mind was running a mile a minute to figure out what you possibly could’ve done to make Bucky act so… peaceful.

Sam shook his head as the doors opened to another floor, and they stepped out. “As curious as I am, I’ll take this as a win. It’s good he’s opening up to someone.” The man said to Steve, who gave him a firm nod.

“Let’s hope it progresses from here, then.”

“You are going to pace a hole into my floors, Tinman,” Tony said sarcastically as he watched Bucky’s large frame lumber back and forth in front of the large doors of the landing pad of the tower.

His gaze snapped up to Tony. “Her comms are shut off, and she was supposed to be back an hour ago.” He said, his voice hoarse. Tony sighed in understanding. Despite his playful demeanor, he too was worried about you.

“That’s why we sent Rogers and Romanoff out 30 minutes ago. They’ll get her, and everyone will be okay.” Tony said in an attempt to calm the anxious super soldier.

Suddenly, Natasha’s voice crackled to life over the intercom of the room they were in. “We found her. She’s unconscious and bleeding. The rest of the men have been taken care of, and we’re taking her back to the jet.” Natasha spoke with an emotionless tone. The tone she uses when she doesn’t want to break.

Tony was the one to reply, but it was all white noise for Bucky.

Bucky felt like the world was crumbling around him. His small, quiet world he had just barely managed to build.

In the year that Bucky had been living with the Avengers, living with you, he had grown an undeniable fondness towards you. He knew it, and so did everyone else. You were his sun, and not just because of your abilities. You reached out to him when he felt like he was drowning. Every moment spent with you felt like breathing.

Each night that you came into his room and calmed him down from whatever terrors that lingered in his mind meant so much to him. Each time, you invited him to watch a movie with you. Something so simple, but you didn’t have to. Sometimes, he would wake up to the credits rolling and his head in your lap. Your delicate fingers running through his long hair.

He clung to your natural warmth like it was the only thing he knew. You were the most gentle being he ever met. He was only reminded of your strength when out on the battlefield, watching you tear through the enemy forces like it was second nature.

His breathing grew heavy as every sweet memory the two of you shared crossed his mind. All he could think about was you. Your voice, your laughter, the way your hair fell against your shoulders, the glint you got in your eyes when you teased him, the way you would hum him to sleep after a particularly rough dream.

Bucky decided then and there that he couldn’t live without you. Couldn’t live without the warmth you brought to his cold heart.

“...nes! Barnes!” Bucky’s head shot up at the sound of Tony’s voice. The billionaire was looking down at the trembling man.

“You need to get it together, pal. They’re almost here, and we need your muscles to get her to the medbay.” Bucky’s open mouth closed as he nodded and stood.

“Did something happen to Steve?” He questioned, knowing that Steve was plenty capable of carrying you himself.

Tony held his chin between two fingers. “Bullet wound in the abdomen. He’s awake and stable but in no condition to carry anyone.” Tony said as the quinjet came into view and began to descend onto the landing pad. Tony looked to Bucky, “She’s top priority.” Bucky nodded. He didn’t need to be told that.

As soon as the doors opened, the two men descended upon the quinjet. Natasha stepped out with Steve’s weakening body slumped against her body, supporting his weight. She looked to Bucky, “She’s laid out on the seats. Bleeding’s been stopped.” Bucky gave a curt nod and rushed to your unconscious body that was draped over the quinjet’s seating.

He scooped you into his arms as Tony followed behind, relaying your visible condition to the doctors via the communications device in his ear.

Bucky’s heavy footfalls thudded throughout the hall as he ran to the medbay. He glanced down at your face every so often. “C’mon sweetheart. You gotta wake up.” He mumbled to himself as the medbay doors finally came into view.

The attending doctors rushed out the doors to guide Bucky to the surgical table. He set you down gently and watched as the doctors swooped down on you, scissors cutting open your gear and clothes.

Tony placed a hand on his chest, “C’mon, Barnes. We gotta leave so they can help her.” Tony showed an unusual gentleness, understanding Bucky’s feelings.

Bucky didn’t put up a fight. He knew he’d just get in the way if he stayed. He exited the doors and walked to the room where Steve was being fixed up.

The doors slid open, and he met the gaze of Natasha and Steve. His eyes were cold as he stared at them.

“You said it was just a recon mission. There shouldn’t have been that many people there.” Bucky spoke to Steve, his voice unwavering but gruff.

Steve huffed, his gaze fixed on the linoleum floors. “It was an ambush. More men than she could handle on her own.” He stated. Bucky didn’t reply, his gaze flickering over to Natasha, who was worrying her lip between her teeth.

“What happened to her?” His voice was quieter now, unsure if he wanted the answer.

Natasha responded this time, “She got overwhelmed. They had some new tech. Something that subdued her powers enough for them to get close.” Natasha’s voice faltered as she continued, “Four gunshot wounds to the torso and a lacerated spleen due to a knife.”

Bucky swallowed down the lump in his throat. He had taken more gunshots, more knives to the torso than he could remember. But you were you. You didn’t have some fancy serum running through your veins that healed you faster like he and Steve did.

Bucky almost didn’t want to ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue, but he did. “Do you think she’ll be okay?” His voice was quiet and strained.

He took note of the hesitance in both Steve and Natasha’s faces. Finally, Steve replied. “We’re unsure. She was unconscious by the time we got to her, and we don’t know how long she was like that.”

Bucky’s whole demeanor changed. His already stiff shoulders tensed considerably, his jaw locked, and his gaze became steely.

“If she dies–” Bucky choked out, not able to finish his sentence. His vibranium fist clenched so hard the metal groaned under the pressure.

He turned and stormed out of the room.

You were out of surgery soon enough and were wheeled into a recovery room. You were stable, and the doctors said you would be okay. But you were yet to wake up.

Bucky sat next to your bed, his right hand laced with yours. He wanted to feel the unnatural warmth you always had. But now you felt just like everyone else.

It had been two days since your surgery, and Bucky had only left your side to use the bathroom and to eat.

Bucky’s eyes shot to the door as Steve walked in. He took in the sight of his best friend. His shoulders were slumped, and his eyes were sunken due to exhaustion.

“Buck.” He said gently, “You need to rest up and shower.”

“I can’t. What if she wakes up?” He asked. His voice was hoarse and broken.

Steve sighed. “I’ll be right here, and you’ll be the first to know.” He reassured him. However, Bucky didn’t move.

“C’mon, Buck. You know she won’t want to see you like that.” He said, stepping closer. “She won’t be able to focus on recovering if she’s too worried about you.”

Bucky’s eyes met Steve’s. He was right, you couldn’t see him this way. He stood from his chair, his eyes never leaving your face as he walked to the door.

“Promise me you’ll tell me as soon as she wakes up.” He said, not looking at Steve.

Still, Steve smiled, “I promise, Buck.”

Bucky was quick in the shower, feeling no need to linger.

Now, he laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He had no desire to sleep. He didn’t deserve to. Not when you were suffering on your own. However, the exhaustion from being up for two days straight and worrying about you finally creeps up on him. He tried to fight off the sleep, but his eyelids only grew heavier and heavier until he drifted off.

“... Sergeant Barnes.” The artificial voice rang throughout his room, causing Bucky to shoot up from his bed.

“FRIDAY?” He croaked out. His voice thick with sleep.

“Captain Rogers asked me to inform you that Miss. (L/n) is awake and is requesting to see you.” The robotic voice explained.

Bucky didn’t need to hear anything else as he stumbled from his bed and to the door of his room. His breathing was heavy and rough as he sprinted to your recovery room. Every fiber in his being screamed at him to move faster, get to you quicker. As if you would disappear if he didn’t.

Bucky began closing in on the doors of your recovery room, not bothering to slow down, opting to barrel through the cracked door.

His quick movements came to a halt at the sight of you. You were sat up in your bed, Steve’s hand on your back to keep you stable. There was a doctor in the room with a clipboard, presumably talking to you before being interrupted by Bucky’s dramatic entrance.

Bucky’s breathing was labored as your eyes locked on him, and despite your situation, despite all the pain, you grinned. “Bucky.” His name came out of your mouth in a quiet whisper.

He stalked over to you and felt his hand tremble as he reached for yours. “Hey, doll.” He said quietly, attempting to match your smile with a shaky one.

Steve nodded to the doctor, who got the message and turned to leave. Steve spoke next. “You two catch up for now.” He said, then turned to you, “Let us know if you need anything.” He spoke more gently now.

You smiled up at him. “Thank you, Steve.”

Steve nodded and left the room.

You looked back to Bucky, your fingers slowly gaining back their warmth. “Hi, Bucky.” You said, your grin not leaving your face.

Bucky let out a disbelieving laugh. “How can you be grinning right now?” He asked, his smile gentle and sweet.

You shrugged and ran your thumb over the back of his hand, tracing the scars. “Well, I’m alive, aren’t I? I couldn’t have asked for better.” You spoke to him.

Bucky shook his head. “I would’ve preferred for you not to be sitting here, injured.” He said, his eyes glancing over your every feature. He couldn’t be happier to be talking to you right now.

“Bucky?” Your small voice echoed between the two of you.

His eyes never left your face. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“I want to take a shower.” You stated plainly.

Bucky laughed increduously at your simple request. “Baby—” The pet name slipped out, but he didn’t notice. “You are in no condition to leave this bed right now.” He said.

You pouted. “Bucky, I feel so gross. I can’t live like this.”

He rolled his eyes at your whining but kept smiling. “As soon as you’re cleared, doll, I’ll get you a shower. I promise.” He said gently, as if he were placating a child.

Your smile softened. “Okay, Bucky. Thank you.”

Bucky’s head tilted slightly as he looked at you. “Anything you want, doll, it’s yours.”

It took only two more days for you to be cleared to walk around and move back into your room. You were to report back for daily checkups and were on strong antibiotics.

Bucky stood next to your hospital bed as you shimmied your shirt over your head. He turned away to protect your modesty but stood close in case you needed his help.

“Bucky.”

He turned back around at the call of his name, his gaze raking over your body. It was refreshing to see you in something other than a hospital gown.

“Ready to go?” He asked, extending his vibranium hand out to you. You nodded. You took his hand and stood shakily. His flesh hand was placed gently on the small of your back as he helped you stand. “Let me know if you need me to carry you.” He said firmly, not wanting to risk you getting injured any further.

The two of you walked out of the room. His usual quick strides were slower in shorter to keep pace with you. Slowly but surely, the two of you made it to your room. You sat on your bed to catch your breath, having not been used to walking so far, let alone at all.

Bucky watched as your gaze lingered on your bathroom door. “Shower?” He asked you. You looked to him with a small smile and nodded.

Before you could bother trying to stand, Bucky was walking to your bathroom. You listened to the sound of the shower as Bucky turned it on. He came back to the room and rummaged through your drawers, looking for comfortable clothes. He went back to the bathroom to place your folded clothes on the counter for you. He was quick to walk back out to your side, hoisting you up gently.

“You don’t have to do this, Buck.” You spoke softly.

Bucky didn’t look at you, too focused on watching your footing. “Don’t start with that. I want to.” He replied, leaving no room for argument.

The two of you made it to the bathroom, and he slowly dropped your hand.

“Do you need help?” He asked, not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

You glanced over at your shower. It was a walk-in, so it should be manageable. “No, I think I’ll be okay.” You replied and turned to look back at Bucky.

You could still see the worry swirl in his eyes, but you knew he wouldn’t stop worrying until you were completely healed. Eventually, he nodded. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be right outside the door.” He said.

You smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Bucky. I will.”

His gaze lingered on you before turning to leave, closing the door with a quiet click behind him.

You turned to the shower and took a deep breath. You took off your clothes slowly, ignoring the searing pain in your torso as you lifted your arms over your head to get your shirt off.

You had finally managed to get your clothes off and stared at yourself in the mirror. You frowned at your wounds that were stitched closed and traced a finger over them. They would scar.

You sighed and walked slowly to the shower. You felt the temperature of the water, smiling to yourself when you realized Bucky had it set to just the right temperature. You stepped in and groaned in pleasure at the feeling of the warm water beating against your skin. Your muscles began to relax as the water cascaded gently against your body.

You decided you couldn’t keep Bucky waiting forever and decided to begin washing yourself. You leaned over for your shampoo but winced and grabbed one of the wounds on your side. It seemed it didn’t agree with the movement. You powered through and grabbed the bottle, opening the lid and squirting the soap into your hand.

You reached up to your head, ignoring the pain that racked up and down your body, and began scrubbing.

Your teeth are gritted painfully together, the white hot pain becoming unbearable. You couldn’t hold your arms up, let alone move them, for long due to your body being littered with deep wounds. You became frustrated, dropping your arms as the soap dripped down your hair and hands. Tears sprung to your eyes, angry with your own helplessness.

You took a deep breath and shut the water off.

Bucky’s brows furrowed in confusion at the sound of the water stopping. That was way too quick, especially considering your condition.

“Bucky?” Your small voice echoed from behind the door.

Bucky sprang up and paused right outside the door, hand already on the handle. “Doll? You alright?” He called out, his face etched with worry.

No response.

“Sweetheart, if you don’t answer me, I’m going to come in there.” He could hear the worry in his voice as he spoke.

Once again, no response.

Bucky’s breathing faltered, and he pressed down on the handle, pushing the door open with ease.

His gaze immediately locked on you. Your arms were crossed over your chest, your body trembling. Either in pain or due to the cold on your wet skin. He couldn’t tell. However, he felt his heart clench in his chest at the sight of your wet eyes and your shaky bottom lip.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He breathed out, reaching you in three quick strides as his hands raised to cup your face gently.

“What’s wrong, honey?” He asked in a whisper, as if speaking in a normal voice would hurt you further.

Your water eyes looked up at his, and you drew in a shaky breath before speaking. “I-I can’t–” You swallowed before continuing. “I need your help.” You said, “Please?” You choked out, meek and scared.

Bucky felt his heart shatter. In the year he has known you, he has never seen you like this. So small and sad.

Bucky brushed a tear from your cheek as it fell. “Of course, sweetheart.” His hands moved from your cheeks and to your shoulders. He nudged you back into the shower and turned the handle. The water came back to life, still warm. It trickled down your body as you stood there.

Bucky smiled at you softly. “Are you okay with me taking my clothes off, doll?” He asked, not wanting to make you any more uncomfortable than you already may be. He watched as you gave him a quick nod, the tears still not leaving your eyes.

Bucky made quick work of his clothes before stepping into the shower right behind you. “Is it okay if I touch you?” He asked calmly. You responded with another nod of your head.

Bucky drew in a breath before reaching for your hair and scrubbing in the rest of the shampoo. He was gentle and careful, treating you like a doll. His doll. He turned you around to rinse your hair in the water but paused when he saw the tears running down your face and your lip still trembling. His frown deepened as he took in your smaller form.

He cupped your face again. “What’s wrong, honey? Where’s it hurt?” He questioned, his gaze dropping slightly to look at your wounds before he locked his eyes back onto yours.

You shook your head at him, and his brows furrowed in response. “You gotta talk to me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what's wrong.” He chided gently, egging you on.

You drew in a shaky breath before speaking. “I was so scared, Bucky.” You looked down at his chest, wanting to avoid his gaze. “I-I thought I was going to die.” You choked out.

Bucky’s shoulders tensed as he realized you were talking about that day. You hadn’t spoken of it since you woke up. No one pressured you, knowing you needed time. Bucky was about to respond, but you cut him off.

“And all I could think about—” You hiccuped, practically choking on your own emotion. “All I could think about was you.” You finally got out.

Bucky froze where he stood, his eyes widening slightly.

“All I could think about was what you would do if I died. Who would comfort you when you had a nightmare—” You were speaking too fast now and tripping over your words. “And then, I sat there. Bleeding out, in pain, and my consciousness beginning to slip.” You paused. “All I thought about was how I was going to die here, cold and alone, never getting to tell you how I felt.”

Bucky’s heart pounded hard in his chest as you rambled on. His grip on your face tightened slightly. “Doll—” He croaked, but you cut him off again.

Your eyes locked with his. The color in them more vibrant with your tears. “I love you, Bucky Barnes. And I have to tell you now, or I’ll regret it forever.” You said resolutely, your voice more steady than it had been since he had entered the shower with you.

Bucky could feel his own hands tremble. Could feel every beat of his pounding heart against his ribcage.

“You l-love me?” Bucky choked out, his own eyes beginning to water.

You nodded, nuzzling your face into his open palm. Your eyes were still wet, and your lips still trembled.

Bucky rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. He took in a steadying breath as he felt your lips brush his. “Can I kiss you?” He whispered.

You responded with an almost imperceptible nod.

Bucky sighed before slotting his lips against yours gently. He poured every ounce of love into that kiss. Every feeling you’ve ever made his cold heart feel. One of his hands dropped to your waist, the other to the side of your neck. He pulled you against him, his lips working over yours slowly. He groaned as one of your hands made their way into his hair, pulling gently.

You pulled away first, gasping for air as you rested your forehead against his chest. Bucky’s hand gently chucked your chin, directing your gaze towards his. His eyes were so soft, so different from the usual look they held.

“I love you too, doll.” He whispered.

You felt your face split into a smile. Your tears were long gone. All you felt in that moment was love and joy.

You tucked your face back into his chest as your body began to heat in giddy embarrassment due to your power. You felt the rumble of Bucky’s laugh against you.

“You can’t be embarrassed now, Sweetheart. I’ve already seen you naked.”

You responded with a smack to his chest and glared up at him. He only continued to smile at you before leaning down and capturing your lips into another kiss. This kiss was softer, slower.

He pulled back and mumbled against your mouth. “Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again.”

divider creds: @aquazero

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sweetpumpkinpieinwithcoffee · 3 days ago

Text

Beginning, Middle and Everything Else (Part.2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Domestic life at the Stark Tower has always been something. Things seems to be back to normal between Y/A and Bucky even if she can't help but remark some new little attentions he has for her. And then, there is this night... and maybe not everything is that casual? Basically, it's just a lot of fluff and pining.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: humor, fluff, light language, idiot in love A/N: Hello, I'm back with the following chapter. You kind the first one here. I do believe you can read them separatly though as a one shot. Again, English isn't my first language and truth be told I didn't proof read this before posting. Anyway, I hope you will like this new installement. Enjoy 🥹

Have you ever had to go grocery shopping for an Avenger? No. Well, imagine having to go for an athlete doubled with an eight year old. Now multiply this by the number of people residing in the Stark Tower at the current time. You already have your head spinning? Well that was basically what was happening to Y/A. Left alone with Clint and Natasha, the girl was basically fighting for her life and a box of chocolate.

If she had listened to Clint, her cart would have been filled with only pizza and the occasional macaroni and cheese (those were always a hit on wednesday nights, especially if Yelena was making it her way). If she had listened to Nat, true the cart would have been a little bit healthier BUT the number of vodka bottles would have been astronomical. Not that the former Russian agent was alcoholic, rather the team liked to party way too hard sometimes. And vodka was always easy to sneak into any glass or cup.

“Can we take gummies?” Asked Clint while they were waiting at the register.

“For the hundrest times, no. We still have some in the kitchen.”

“No, we have the strawberry kind, not the blueberry ones.”

“Do you want the blueberries just because it is purple and it matches yours and Kat’s signature?” Nat asked.

“Maybe.”

“Then no. Don’t need it.”

“I knew I picked the wrong team to go grocery shopping.”

“Believe me when I say I thought the same thing ten minutes ago when you two were bickery around ham.” Y/A said while paying. “Can’t you behave for more than an hour?”

“You wouldn’t either if you had to stay stuck for days with this one in a vent.”

“It was years ago!” Bite back Natasha.

“Children, mommy would like some peace.”

“You do know we are heading back to the Tower, right?” Asked Clint.

“Killjoy.”

“My pleasure.”

Truth be told, while grocery shopping was a pain in the ass, getting back to the Tower was even more painful. You adored your new teammates and roomates but really they could be loud. Especially when food was involved. “Do you have my lemon pie?” Would ask Steve who had developed such a sweet tooth since he had left ice. “Where is my Coca?” Would ask Tony before being reprimanded by Pepper for not asking politely. “And my beer?” Would half shoot Thor if he was there. It was all fun and game until they were digging into the bags, making a mess of everything. Children, those super-heros were just children with super powers or capacities.

“Or too much money.” Would complet Yelena when you finally found the time to rest. “Practically sure Tony wouldn’t have done half the stuff he did without all his money.”

“I’m not sure. He is a good guy deep down. And also, he has his brain.”

“Yeah, yeah… that is true.”

You had found yourself on the roof of the tower, enjoying the summer sun and a little bit of peace. Truth be told, you were quite content to not have been sent on a mission in some time. You could actually take the time to rest and fix some old injuries you had never really looked for. Plus, one of the upside of not being on duty call meant spending more time with the girls.

“Want to go clubbing tonight?” You asked.

“Always down. Think about anywhere in particular?”

“No. Probably to the Pachamama. To remind me of France.”

“You've been missing it a lot lately, aren’t you?”

“Well… I had really good memories there and I haven’t been in years.”

“So the Pachamama it is!”

But by the end of the day, you never made it.

————————————————————————————

“So you are telling me you just got your periods?” Asked Yelena right behind you as she was holding your hair.

“Yeah.” You couldn’t help but throw up again. The pain was excruciating. Why was it that doctors and searchers had found a cure for men who couldn’t get their penis up but none of them had found the time for a cure for difficult periods?

“I guess our little trip out is cancelled then?”

“What is cancelled?”

His deep voice filled the room in an instant and you couldn’t be more mortified. Not because your head was presently in the toilet, even if that was already a bad situation, but more because of your outfit. A night out at the club meant little clothes and involved a lot of glitter. You were young and you wanted to have some fun, some intent of a normal twenty-something years old life. Tonight, you had opted for a really short black short and a “dress” made in chane and glitter. High heels boots complemented the outfit and you were feeling badass. Well, up until you felt the first sign of your cycle and had to bolt to the toilet.

“Sure it is just your period honey?” Asked Wanda while rubbing your back. “You look pretty pale too.”

“Losing blood can have that effect.” You mumble.

“So what is cancelled?” He asked again.

Your situation with Bucky had kinda shift after the cookies a month or so ago. You had started to notice weird signs from him. Now it was almost impossible for you to seat near anyone but him at any debrief, somehow he had clocked your favourite mug and made always a priority of keeping it warm if you need tea or coffee. He had, regarding that matter, also clocked your preference: coffee in the morning or later in the day only if you had stayed up too late, past 10a.m and until the end of the day it was tea and infusion. Bucky was also the first to spot now when you were feeling down and the first to help you work through the high and low of being a public figure. He also magically always had your favourite chocolate ready after a particular rough mission. The shift was weird.

“We were supposed to go out tonight but Y/A isn’t feeling good.”

“Shit. Something you ate maybe?”

“Not that kind of sick.” You mumble while resting your head on the toilet (gross, you thought but it was cool and you thought maybe Wanda was right and you had a little bit of a fever).

“Oh… got everything you need? Pad, tampon ?”

“BARNES.” Almost screamed Wanda.

“What?”

“I’m just surprised.”

“Of me knowing about this? Hon, it’s not the 1950’s anymore.”

“Remind me your age again?”

“Do shut up. Hey, Y/L/N, how are you doing?’

Instead of responding directly, you started throwing up again while hot tears ran down your cheeks. Wanda calming rub in your back stopped for a millisecond before being replaced by a stronger and wider hand.

“Ok. Girls, go to your night out, I got her.”

“But…” Started Yelena, your ponytail still in her hand.

“No but, have your fair of fun and I’ll make sure she survives the night.”

“Go girl, don’t make me waste your night.” You said while you can. “Take pictures and I want to know everything in the morning.”

“Ok honey…” Said Kate. “Buck, be nice to her and make sure she has her hot-water bottle with her.”

“Will do. Now go.”

It was a matter of minutes before the sounds of their feet stopped echoing in the hallway and you could hear the door closing. Such a fun night in perspective.

“You can go Barnes… I’ll be fine. I think the worst is over.” You said while attempting to stand up. That wasn’t your best idea since your head start spinning and you had to regain control by putting an hand on the sink. “Shit.”

“Like you said. I’m not going anywhere until you don’t feel better. Or at least until you are sleeping.”

“So what? You are playing my daddy tonight?”

At his loss of words, you looked up and found him as red as a tomato. His pupils were dilated and fixed on your mouth. Shit, had you said something that would bring back his old Winter Soldier self?

“You alright there?”

“Yeh. Yup. Sorry, my brain froze for a moment.”

“Could see that.”

“Let me help you to go to bed.”

“Can do myself.”

Well, that you thought. You made two steps before needing the wall to stay up.

“Shit.”

“Ok. You tried your way, let’s try mine now.”

You couldn’t say anything before being picked-up, bridal style, and being kinda crushed against his chest. He smelled good. You had never really paid attention to this but Bucky did smell good. A mix of soap and his aftershave that subtle but very pleasant.

“I can walk.” You suggested.

“That you demonstrated very well not two minutes ago.”

“Do shut up. I’m ill, and you don’t make fun of ill people.”

“No Doll. I won’t.”

It was your turn to be silent for a moment and you could feel the heat in your cheek. But if it was the heat of your fever or something in reaction of what he had said you weren’t able to tell.

“Lead the way to your room.” He spoke softly and for one moment, you completely forgot what was the point of your evening anymore. You could only focus on his arms around you and the smell of his clothes.

————————————————————————————

Y/A’s room was two stories above where he had found her. Just like all the other rooms, it was very large. Nothing Bucky had ever known back in the 50’s when he and Steve had first shared a living-room while keeping an eye on his mother and then in their tiny studio right before the war.

And just like all the others it was such a personal space. Nothing the others would have chosen for themselves. This room was clearly yours. The colour, the furniture, the decor, everything seemed to scream “Y/A lives here”. Bucky smiled to himself. It was funny to be here.

“You can drop me on the bed and I’ll be fine. For real.” Said the girl when he stepped inside.

“Dropping you on the bed, I can. Leaving you alone? No.”

“Bucky, I’m fine, really.”

He put her gently on the bed and then started to look around. He was positive that if this was a recurrent pattern for you you would have your hot-water bottle on the ready. Unfortunately, it was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he went straight for what looked like a pyjama you had left thrown on a chair and grabbed it.

“You have to put this on.” He said gently to her. “And you also have to tell me where you put your hot-water bottle.”

“You really don’t need to do this.” Y/A said while trying to leave the bed and joined her private bathroom. Unfortunately, while you were very not drunk, you were struggling and fell by tripping on your own feet.

“Ouch.”

“And she said she doesn’t need help.” In a matter of seconds he was scooting you up in his arms and taking you to the bathroom. “Do you also need my help to get out of this… dress?”

You flushed a little. “Be careful soldier. One could think you are flirting with me.”

He flushed back a little. He hadn’t thought about the undermeaning of his words before it had been too late. Not that he would mind taking off your clothes in another context but… “Or one could think I’m just being helpful and considerate to my… friend?”

“Oh! Is that what we are now?” Y/N asked while battling with the fastening of her dress.

“If you want too.” He said, considering he might have put more hope than it was needed in his tone.

“I don’t know Bucky, only two weeks ago you could barely look me in the eyes.”

“You are very small.”

Y/A smiled back. “Touché. But still, is that what we are?”

“It’s what we could be.”

“Then ok. You are helping a friend take off her dress.” She said while offering her back to him. The zipper was clearly stuck.

Putting a gentle hand on her right shoulder he unzipped slowly the delicate material, past her shoulder blades, her mid back, until the top of her ass. He had to hold his breath and his gaze. She was clearly following his movement in the mirror right in front of them in the bathroom.

“Thank you friend. That was very helpful.”

“No problem, friend.”

He couldn’t help but notice the light pink spreading on her cheek and the way her eyes were stuck on his in their reflection.

“I should… yeah.” She gestured to her dress, the pyjama in her hands and the bathroom.

“I’ll be waiting here.” He said softly.

“Again, you don’t have to do all that. I’ll be fine and it isn’t in your job description to take care of me.”

“Yeah, I know. But you also are more important than just a job description.”

This time she was bright red and he considered if he hadn’t gone too far with his observation. She disappeared quickly into the bathroom and closed the door without another word for him.

————————————————————————————

The rain had started outside the Tower and Bucky was pacing inside your room. Y/A had been taking an unusually long time to change out of her dress to her pajama. He figured maybe you were doing your nightly skincare routine, something he had seen Nat do more times than he could count when she wasn’t out on the job.

Nevertheless, the minutes dragged on and a tight knot of concern began to form in his chest. That’s when the sound came, a dull thud, as if something had fell in the room were you were. He felt his heart stop in the moment.

“Shit. Y/N? Is everything alright?” He called out.

Silence.

“Y/A” He tried again, closing the small space between him and the closed door. “Y/A? I’m coming in.”

He pushed the door open forcefully to find you on the floor, your pajama rightfully on but you were struggling to brace yourself as you tried to sit up.

“Shit, Doll, what happened?” As he was saying so he move to your side in a flash, crouching next to you, scanning for injury with frantic eyes.

Y/A blinked up at him, sweat beading on her forehead. “Think it might be more than just my period.” She said weakly, her voice not much more than a whisper. “I just felt dizzy and then…”

“You are burning up.” He muttered, gently lifting you in his arms again. This time he noticed how you didn’t protest, simply letting your head fall against his shoulder.

Carrying Y/A to her bed, he laid her down with care before going back to the bathroom where he found a bottle of water he filled before coming back.

“Drink a little. I’ll look for some meds and I’ll be back.”

“I must have some Advil under the sink.” She said.

He went again and laid the little box on her bedside table after giving her the medicine. Silently, he vowed to stay by your side as long as you would allow it. Soon enough Y/A was sound asleep. Outside, the rain was still pouring, the others would probably cut short their plans if the weather kept being that awful. The room was in the dim light of the bedside’s lamp, warm in the rich colour you had chosen.

Time passed. Y/A’s sleep was difficult. Turning and trashing, fighting against the fever and something else. Bucky couldn’t only stay and watch. His only movement was to put a cool cloth on your forehead or stroking your wet hair back from your face with trembling fingers. For all the time he had to tend to others he hadn’t felt this anxious. He couldn’t and wouldn’t leave your side.

At some point he thought he heard the other coming in but no one made its way to your room. Probably they thought you were sleeping and didn’t want to disturbed you. He was glad they didn’t though, he could stay with you and wouldn”t have to explain to anyone the state of worry he was in. Besides, he also thought the fever was coming down, meaning it was nothing that serious. A difficult virus you would have caught after pushing yourself yet again.

He didn’t sleep that night. Just stay close, your hand in his, eyes on your face. When dawn find its way in the room, you started stirring, showing some signs that you were trying to wake up. He took back his hand and straightened in his chair. Slowly, your eyes opened, meeting his tired, worried ones.

“You stayed?” Y/A croaked, voice still light.

He couldn’t help but give a weak smile. “Of course I did. You don’t leave a friend in such a bad state.”

She smiled faintly but it felt real. Bucky couldn’t believe it was addressed to him. Y/A then extended a febrile hand toward him. Gently, he took it with his hand of flesh.

Maybe he would be fine, as long as he could keep you by his side.

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marvelwitchergilmore · 2 days ago

Text

Dog Tags (3)

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> When a mission goes wrong, Bucky gets his Dog Tags back.

Disclaimer: This is part three for one and two. Mentions of serious injuries, blood and being hospitalised. Angst, bit of fluff here and there, hurt/comfort, Bucky stays by reader's side. Sam giving Bucky his own reality check, platonic!Wanda, swearing. Left kinda open ended in case I decide to write part four? Not Proof Read.

Bucky stared down at the dog tags in his hands, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the blood stained letters. He had to take a deep breath before the tears started flowing again.

You were meant to be on a simple recon mission. You’d done them a thousand times. Maybe you’d come back with a bruise or two, but you still came back.

This time, his phone had rung throughout his room just as the clock turned 4:00 am. An agent had found the tags on her person. They knew they weren’t hers, but they were definitely someone’s.

Bucky had gotten to the hospital in under an hour. You’d still been in surgery by the time he arrived, but the nurses had brought out your personal belongings in a large plastic bag.

Your clothes; blood stained to hell. Your Shield issued weapons were empty of bullets. Whatever had happened, you’d emptied your clip, plus your three backups. Your knife lay at the bottom of the bag, stained with blood, too.

Bucky couldn’t work out if it was yours or someone else's. But he did know one thing for certain. The blood that lay splattered over his tags, as he pulled the chain from the bag, was yours. You never wore them outside of your uniform. You kept them close to your chest. It couldn’t be anyone else's.

Bucky had left a message at Hill’s desk, as well with Sam explaining what had happened. What he knew, at least. Hill was sending someone to the mission base to find out more.

“Mr Barnes?”

Bucky took in a deep breath as he stood up, clasping the tags in his palm. Maybe if he squeezed tightly enough, he’d be able to feel you.

“Yes.”

“Your wife is now out of surgery. We’ll be keeping her under observation for the foreseeable, but once she’s situated in a room, you’ll be able to sit with her.” The Doctor told him.

Bucky just nodded. “Do you know what happened?”

“I know it’s not common, but I’ll bring you her more detailed medical chart.” They told him. “There was too much extensive damage to talk about off the top of my head.”

Those words hit Bucky in the chest, harder than anything else had ever done.

“But she’ll-” Bucky couldn’t bring himself to talk.

The Doctor just nodded. “She’s going to need a lot of physical therapy. Thankfully nothing broke within her legs, but the damage to her muscles will make her training a lot harder than it should be for a while.”

Bucky nodded.

“But she’ll be okay.”

“Thank you.”

The Doctor nodded. “Thank you for the tags.”

Bucky was a little confused as he followed the doctor’s finger, pointing to his hand. The dog tags? Why was she thanking him for the dog tags?

“If your wife hadn’t been wearing them, we wouldn’t have known who to contact.”

Wife.

Bucky felt himself chuckle inside. If you were awake and could hear the doctor now, you’d have probably made some disgusted eye roll and comment over being even associated with him.

“Oh, yeah.”

The Doctor smiled. “I’ll come and get you when she’s ready.”

“Thank you.”

She just nodded with another soft smile before walking away. Twenty minutes later, he was being walked down the hallway where he stood outside of your room for ten minutes before opening up the door.

You had at least a dozen wires hooked up to you, aside from the standard hospital gear. Bucky just stared at the monitor for a while, watching your heartbeat print onto paper.

Eventually, he sat in the chair beside your bed and looked at you. In that moment, he’d give anything to have you yell at him. Cuss him out, threaten him, roll your eyes…anything.

“They…” Bucky cleared his throat, looking down at the tags in his hand. “They told me you should still be able to hear me…and that talking helps. I know you’re probably mad it’s me who’s here, but you can’t blame me for this one, doll.”

A weak chuckle escaped Bucky’s lips as he looked from his hand and to your sleeping frame. “They think we’re married, by the way. Mostly because of the dog tags they found on you. I’ve…I’ve got em’ right here. They’re safe. You’re safe, doll. Just…just kinda need you to wake up soon. Maybe tell me to piss off. Not that I’d leave you anyway, but that’s kinda our thing, right? Fighting?”

Bucky went silent for a while as he looked at you.

“I need you to fight me, sweetheart.” Bucky told you. “So you’ve gotta mend and pull through all of this. Whatever happened out there in the field…that’s not the end of your story. It can’t be. I won’t let it.”

Bucky could hear your voice in his head. “You’d don’t have a choice in it, Barnes.”.

Bucky told you a few more things, like how he’d called both Hill and Sam. He told you that he’d text Wanda, “She’ll get it once she lands. I’m sure she’ll be flying through that window soon.”

But, eventually, he stopped talking. He just let the sound of your steady heart fill the room. It was proof you were still alive. You were still here.

On the days where Bucky couldn’t sit with you, Wanda took his place. Or Kate. Or Sam. On the odd occasion, Joaquin sat with you. Bucky had walked in on plenty of PowerPoint presentations of how his suit was better than Sam’s old one.

But when he did sit with you, his mind would wander to memories of you and him. Like the training room when he’d told you he knew you had his dog tags, or when he’d helped you when you got hurt a few months back.

But one stuck out to him in particular. Plenty stuck out to him as time ticked by, but he was reminded of this one as he looked at the side table beside your bed. Your knife lay on top, still in its protective covering.

Less than three weeks before you’d landed in hospital, Bucky had been training with you.

The main noises being made were grunts. As you hit his chest, as he knocked your legs down, as you twisted his arm, as he flipped you onto the mat, as you kicked his legs from beneath him, as you both rolled across the mats before you landed on top, trapping him in place.

“Give in yet?”

“Do you?”

You were about to question what he meant, but then you felt it. Cold and sharp; he had your knife, again. But this time, it was pointed against your side.

“What?” You hesitated for a second and looked away. Bucky took his opportunity.

In two simple moves, you were on your back staring up at him with your own knife gently pressed against your skin.

“Give in.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes at his glowing smirk. “Yes. Fine. Now get off me.”

Bucky chuckled and stood up, lowering his hand down to help you up. At first, you swatted it away. But he held it out again, “Come on.”

Reluctantly, you accepted it and he helped you stand. “You’re focusing too much. Too in your head. You need to relax.”

Bucky flipped the knife over in his hand so he was pinching the sharp blade. He handed it over to you and you swiped it up. “Thanks.” Your voice grunted a little before you placed your knife back in its place.

“You know, if you wanted to, you could train with me more often.” Bucky offered as he walked away. “I know you and I are…whatever we are. But I have training that isn’t exactly found in a Shield manual.”

“I’m fine.” You said, avoiding looking at him as he stood with his back to you. You had stared at him in this fashion one too many times. It was only a short time before someone caught you doing so. Even worse if it was Bucky.

“It’s not an issue. Hell, we don’t have to even talk-”

“I said I’m fine.” You didn’t mean to raise your voice when you spoke to him. You regretted it instantly. You sighed. “Look, I know you mean well. And, thank you. But I’m okay.”

Bucky watched you, over his shoulder. You walked away from the mats, grabbed your water bottle and sat down on one of the opposite benches.

“What is it?”

“What?”

“Do you have a problem with me or something?”

You sighed. “Bucky.”

“I get you and I don’t exactly get along-”

“I don’t have a problem with you,” you cut him off. “I just-”

You gave a short sigh. There were so many reasons why it wouldn’t work if he was the one to train you. He wouldn’t know it, but you’d become more distracted by him. And for some reason it was written into the heavens that if you and Bucky spent more than ten minutes alone together, things in the air started to get…close. Too close.

But the main thing was your undisclosed feelings for the super annoying, massive pain in your ass, super soldier. The longer you spent around him, so close to him, the harder they were getting to manage.

It was only a matter of time before he figured out the truth.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Can we just leave it at that? Please?”

Bucky watched you for a moment before nodding. “Okay. Forget I ever mentioned it.”

You just nodded.

Later that evening, Bucky had been with Wanda. And he’d been avoiding the topic of you ever since he walked through the front door.

“Did something happen between you two?” Wanda just flat out asked him.

“No. Nothing happened.”

“You’re sulking, so I know something happened.”

Bucky shrugged. “She just doesn’t want my help. I’ve tried being nice. But she’s just so…her. It’s annoying.”

Wanda nodded. “Yeah, I’m gonna need more information than just…you not handling your school boy crush very well.”

“I don’t-” Bucky shut his mouth as he whipped his head around to look at Wanda. “I don’t like her like that.”

“Doesn’t like who?” Sam asked as he walked through the door.

“Bucky. Not liking Y/n.”

Sam just barked a laugh as he opened up the fridge and put his groceries away. “Ha! That’s a bullshit lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What-”

“Bucky,” Sam was practically laughing. “You’ve had a crush on her for god knows how long. I don’t know what twisted bullshit you both have going on that prevents you from talking like normal human beings, but even I know you saying you don’t like Y/n is nothing but a complete and utter bullshit lie.”

Bucky looked at Wanda for backup but she seemed to be on Sam’s side.

“You know, maybe if you��I don’t know…talked to her rather than fight her-”

“She fights me!”

Sam just looked at him. “You fight each other.”

“Maybe you should just try and talk to her,” Wanda told him. “Might just clear a few things up.”

Sam sat down on the arm of the chair. “You’ve had feelings for her for a long time, Buck. Maybe it’s time you did something about it.”

Bucky just sighed.

“How long have you guys been married?”

Bucky hadn’t noticed the nurse walk inside to your hospital room, at first. “Sorry?”

“I’m sorry to ask,” she apologised as she changed out your IV and drew some blood. “It’s just…I’ve seen a lot of couples pass through these doors and I’m yet to see ones with a connection like yours.”

Bucky sat up. The nurse could read the confusion on his face from a mile away.

She just stepped to the side and pointed at the print of the heart rate.

“See these spikes here?”

Bucky nodded.

“These are from when you’ve been with her. It’s good they’re going up. It means she’s recognising her surroundings. At the very least, the people in it. You’re healing for her.”

Bucky just looked at your still sleeping frame. He was helping you heal?

He was helping you heal?

The nurse smiled again. “How long have you two been married?”

“Not long,” Bucky answered. “But we’ve…we’ve known each other for years.”

The nurse smiled. “Who made the first move?”

Bucky thought for a moment. “She did. She saved my life.”

And you had.

You’d been one of the new agents placed with the team. In the middle of a forest, Bucky had noticed every tripwire save for one. As something came flying over head, you’d swiped his legs from underneath him and pinned him down.

“You’re welcome,” you whispered.

That had been the first time Bucky had met you. It had also been the first time he’d looked you in the eyes. He could have happily drowned there and then. Which scared him. More than he knew what to deal with.

“And now you’re here saving hers,” the nurse smiled. “I’ll be back in about an hour. Is there anything I can get you? Blankets, pillows?”

Bucky shook his head. “No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

“She’ll be okay, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky just nodded and watched as the nurse left. As he turned his head, that was when he noticed your chart. They still kept you as Y/n Barnes. Nobody, including Bucky, had bothered to correct them. If anything, it meant Bucky still learnt about your injuries and your healing process.

It also meant he got access to stay with you for as long as he wanted. Which, if he didn’t have to work and if Sam didn’t come and drag him outside every few hours, he’d stay the whole time.

It was a month or so more before you finally woke up.

When Bucky had gotten a text from Joaquin telling him to get to the hospital quickly, he’d dropped what he was doing and came running down the hallway of the hospital ten minutes later.

“What’s happening?”

“I-I don’t know.” Joaquin told him. “I was just holding her hand and she moved. Like, she squeezed my hand.”

“What?” Bucky moved past Joaquin and to your side, leaning his hand on the side headboard.

“Y/n? Hey, doll? Can you hear me?”

Bucky held your hand in his. Nothing happened. “I know you don’t like me all that much, but if you can hear me, can you try and squeeze my hand?”

Again, nothing.

Bucky looked at Joaquin.

“I didn’t dream it.”

Bucky looked back at you. For a split second, he pushed some of your hair from your face. “Doll, if you’re awake, please. I just need you to squeeze my hand.”

Again, nothing.

Until there was something.

“Go and get a nurse.”

“On it!” Joaquin practically flew out of the room.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Joaquin had been talking to you, telling you that you were gonna be okay. Then you heard Bucky’s voice which was quickly followed by a rough hand gently holding onto yours.

And when you finally opened your eyes, you saw him. Standing beside your bed, holding your hand, looking like the world had finally started moving again.

It was a few hours before you came around properly. And when you did, it felt a lot less hectic. Everything was peaceful and quiet. You had time to look around. There was a steady beeping somewhere.

A heart monitor.

You had different wires and tubes sticking out of you. The lights weren’t as bright as they’d been when you’d first woken up.

But the thing that caught your eye the most was the sleeping frame of Bucky, hunched over your bed. Then you felt it. His hand, still in yours.

You tried to squeeze his hand but eventually it hurt a little less and he stirred awake before shooting up.

“Hey, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“How long have I been out?”

Bucky answered you honestly. “Almost two months. The damage was extensive. Can you remember anything?”

You just nodded. “I think I blacked out after the building collapsed because I don’t remember anything after that.”

Bucky stood and pressed a button on the headboard of your bed before sitting beside you, clasping your hand in his. If it had been any other time, you would have taken your hand right back.

But in that moment you needed comfort. You needed to feel safe.

You felt safe with Bucky.

But then you gasped. “Shit.”

“What? Are you hurt? What is it?”

You sat up and touched your chest and neck. “Your- your tags. I-”

Bucky just pulled the chain from his shirt. “There’s right here.”

You visibly relaxed but then you tensed as you watched Bucky remove them. “What are you doing?”

A small chuckle left him, “Just stay still, would you?”

“It’s not like I can exactly run away right now.”

Bucky smiled to himself before lifting the chain up and over your head. “There.”

You looked at him, wondering what he meant by all of it. “They’re your tags, Bucky.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “But I know they’re safe with you. They always looked better on you, anyway.”

Once Bucky knew you were okay, he’d wiped the rest of the tags clean. He’d been waiting to lay them back on you. He didn’t want to do it while you were sleeping. He needed you to fight him first.

He needed proof you were alive.

That was when the door opened and a nurse walked inside. “You’re awake! I must say, you nearly gave me and your husband a fright earlier. The doctor hadn’t predicted that you would wake up this early.”

You looked at Bucky and whispered, “Husband?”

“Just go with it,” he whispered back.

It wasn’t until an hour or so, when both the Doctor and nurse had left, that you spoke to Bucky again.

“You wanna tell me why we’re married?”

“They found my tags with you. They called me and…”

“You never corrected them?” You’d asked that question a lot calmer than Bucky had been expecting.

“It meant I got to stay with you longer. And that they’d tell me what was going on.”

“You didn’t need to do that, Bucky.”

Bucky was honest with you. “I’m glad they called me first.”

You hand clutched the tags dangling from your neck. “They really thought you were my husband?”

Bucky chuckled. “If anything, the tags made sure you came home.”

In the silence as you and Bucky looked at each other, you felt the coolness of the metal in your palm. His tags had brought you home. His tags had brought him to you. His dog tags made sure you weren’t alone. And something told you Bucky had the same idea.

Which was only confirmed when he attended almost every physio appointment with you.

“How’s she doing, doc?”

The physio smiled as they held their arms up, in case you fell. “She’s doing great.”

“She’s tired and pissed off.” You answered truthfully.

“If it makes you feel any better, I brought your favourite snacks from that store you and Kate found.”

Your hand gripped the two parallel bars as you slowly walked from one side to the other. “How the hell do you know about that store?”

“I asked Kate. She told me.”

As the phyio’s pager went off, Bucky offered to take over for a few minutes to help you. And, considering the medical staff still believed you and Bucky to be married, you’d both decided to just keep the act up.

So, slowly walking beside you in case you fell, Bucky helped you turn around and walk back down the parallel bars.

“How’ve you been feeling?”

“You mean other than tired and pissed off?”

“Yeah.”

“Sore,” you admitted. “Bored. I can’t wait to get back home.”

If Bucky was being honest, he would say the same thing. Even if you did spend more time fighting each other, he missed it. He missed you.

“Neither can I.” The honesty slipped out from Bucky before he could think about any awkward consequences.

You paused and looked at him. “What?” Your voice was a little softer than usual.

“What?” Bucky shrugged. He’d said it. There was no taking it back. “It’s boring without you. I get we might fight the whole time, but without you I’ve got no one to keep my ego in check.”

Bucky earned a laugh from you as you looked away to keep walking. And he laughed, too.

You had to admit. Laughing with Bucky rather than groaning was a nice change.

And it only got easier from there on out. Your groans had turned to laughter, your scowls had turned to smiles and the roll of your eyes had turned to tears of laughter.

And slowly, the same things happened for Bucky, too.

Eventually, the ten minute window you and Bucky spent together turned into twenty, then forty and before either of you knew it, hours had passed.

You were both together and, surprisingly, still alive.

761 notes · View notes

fayeatheart · 1 day ago

Text

Ahhhh!!! I can’t believe you’re back!!! I love them so freaking much and I miss them. Incredible writing as always can’t wait to see what comes next.

Dismantle

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Word Count: 11033

Warnings: Canon typical violence. Tad bit of angst. Mentions of previous SA (Blink and you'll miss it), I think that's all in this one.

Author’s Note: Hello long wait in between parts. I managed to keep this all as one long part. I figured why force you guys to have it in two parts when you can consume it in one. We're reaching the end of this series. I only have one more part planned out for this series. I hope that you guys enjoy it! The divider is by the lovely @firefly-graphics ♥

I do not and will not ever give permission for my fics to be copied and posted on other sites. Don’t do it. Don’t be that person that ruins it for me and everyone else.

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. While likes are appreciated, reblogs are gold. Seriously, if you enjoyed this in the slightest, please reblog ♥

<< Interrogations || Phantom Masterlist || Phantom Playlist || Set Me Free >>

“What was he planning on building?” It was Ross's voice that filled the air.

“He took the data information his brother had collected along with blood samples from test subjects.” She began as she looked towards Ross. “He also found a way to miniaturize Project Insight. Put the two together and-”

“You get a weapon that can turn specific people into enhanced weapons.” Steve said, shaking his head.

“There’s no way he could possibly do that.” Ross shook his head. “That kind of technology-”

“Can be created.” She added even though she was sure that he wasn’t going to say that. “DNA testing was a whole craze. It wasn’t hard for Hydra to obtain and analyze the data. The parts that were being collected would ensure it was possible. I’ve seen the plans. It was only a matter of time before it came together and went into the testing phase of things.”

“So what's the plan?” Sam asked.

“Element of surprise is out of the question.” She said as her eyes moved from one person to another. “The moment Ross was informed I was taken in, he knew too. There's no way to play it like my mission has been successful.”

“Then we go head on.” Steve said. “They’ll see us coming. But we’ll be ready for it.”

“We don’t even know where they’ll be.” Wanda noted. It caused everyone to look towards Y/N.

She sighed softly and nodded her head. “There's a few places they’ll be heading now that they know I’m out of the equation. I’ll even be able to give detailed routes into those facilities without setting off any of their alarms.”

“That’s gonna come in handy.” Natasha said.

It didn't take them long to go over possible locations and how the team would be able to use the information she was providing to their advantage. They had several plans in place for every scenario that could possibly happen between now and them getting to Strucker.

Steve gave commands for each group from the team. Each one with a different plan of attack. And when Steve’s attention turned to her, she already could feel the irritation growing within her.

“You and Clint will stay here.” He began and her head already started shaking. “If anything, be our eyes and ears with FRIDAY.”

“I'm coming with one of you.” She said the moment he finished. She wasn’t going to agree with what was being asked of her.

“No.”

“Are you crazy?”

All three responses came at once, causing her to raise her eyebrow at them as she crossed her arms over her chest. The nos had come from Steve and Bucky. The ‘are you crazy?’ came from Tony. “You're not making me sit this one out.”

“She is crazy.” Tony mumbled as he ran his hand over his face.

“You know I’m good on the field.” She said with a shake of her head. “I get that there’s the possibility of not trusting me right now, but I want to see this through, just as much as you do.”

“We trust you.” Steve began. “But given the situation, it would be better to have you safe here and not out there. We don’t know what they could do-”

“I can handle myself. I’ve been handling situations like this my whole life.” She argued. She wasn’t going to let this go without a fight.

She knew there was a bigger fight at hand with what the team was getting ready for. But she wasn’t about to be kept out of the fight. She’d go down fighting before she was left behind.

“Buck, help me out here.” Steve looked over at Bucky.

“What he means to say,” Bucky said, gaining her attention. “While we would be happy to have you fighting alongside us, you could be a few short words away from fighting against us. And while we had our moment of fighting each other earlier, I’d like not to be put up against you again.”

“They don't have-'' She stopped herself mid sentence when reality came crashing through her mind.

She would have said they don't have her trigger words. That the only person who had them still, if he hadn’t destroyed it, was standing right in front of her. But she had been reprogrammed. She didn’t know anything about it this time around. She didn’t know if all it was going to take was a specific set of words to have her back under.

She understood their worry. She understood why they wouldn't want her to be there or anywhere on the mission. Hydra knew how to manipulate her and they were going to do just that.

But she couldn't just wait around and do very little. While she could give the team play by play instructions through each facility, it wasn't enough for her. She needed her hands in it in some way.

A defeated sigh passed her lips a moment later and she nodded her head. “Fine.”

She could feel the way Bucky eyed her for a moment. There was something in his eyes that told her that he had been ready for more of a fight. A moment later, he nodded his head in acceptance. But his eyes never left hers.

“Let’s head out.” Steve’s voice filled the air before the room started to clear out.

“I told myself I wasn’t going to let you out of my sight.” He said before letting out a sigh.

“Let me go with you. I can stay on the quinjet if that’s what’s needed.” The moment Bucky started shaking his head she changed tactics. “Then stay here with me. Clint can go and handle it.”

“As much as I want to, we both know I can’t. I have to see this through for both of us.” He needed her to understand. He was the one that was free from the Hydra’s hold. She had been taken from them just hours ago. He needed to make sure they wouldn’t have a chance to take her back. “When I get back, we’re going to have a lot to talk about.”

All she could do was nod. And when she didn’t say anything else, Bucky had taken that as his cue to leave. The faster he got going, the faster he could come back to her.

Out of a long forgotten habit, Y/N had found herself exiting the conference room and started making her way towards the common area. Her brain told her there was something in that room that she needed to see. And when she walked in, seeing the floor to ceiling windows, she was reminded why she wanted to go in there.

It gave her the view of the air strip that was on the property. It also gave view to the several cars that were lined up as several agents climbed in. The scramble before a mission. She thought. Something she had seen plenty of times.

But that old familiar habit reminded her that this was where she used to watch Bucky board a quinjet. It was also where she would anxiously wait for him to return from a mission. On more than one occasion, she fell asleep in the chair by the window waiting for him to return.

As she looked out the window now, she could see the way the jets had been turned on as the ramp began closing on a few of the quinjets. Vehicles were already starting to drive off to give the aircrafts the needed space to take off. It wouldn’t be long before the runway was empty.

“We’re not staying are we?” Clint asked as he came to stand beside her. His eyes watched as one of the quinets took off. His face was neutral in comparison to hers. He could see the thought process as clear as day on her face. He knew she was waiting for it to be clear for her to leave.

“You can stay here if you want. But I can't sit around and do nothing.” She noted as she began walking away the moment she was sure everyone on the mission had left.

“If you're going, I'm going with you.” He said with a shrug. “Someone has to keep you from being triggered.”

She rolled her eyes slightly. “Now the question is what are we taking?” The closest location was close enough to get to by car. “Car or Quinjet?”

“I have something better in mind.” A mischievous smirk pulled at his lips before he tilted his head towards the garage. When her eyebrow raised he chuckled. “Grab your gear and meet me in the garage. I'm sure you remember where you kept your gear. ”

It didn’t take long for Y/N to find her old locker and have tactical belts filled with weapons once more. The weight of the belts wrapped around her had brought a strange comfort to her. It was from constantly having them over the last several months. Maybe it was wrong to find comfort in weapons, but the way the last 24 hours had been, she’d take familiarity over anything else.

When she walked out to the garage, she found Clint waiting for her. “What is the better option you were talking about?”

Clint only gave her a grin before he walked over and pulled the sheet off of a black Honda sports bike. He watched as her eyes shifted as she took in the bike. Clint could only assume it was the memory of how much she had loved it.

She walked over and looked over the bike. It had been some time since she had seen it, let alone rode it. She remembered the day she had bought the bike. How excited she had been the few days leading up to getting it. It was the first thing that had ever truly been hers and she spent every free moment she could riding it.

“We found it at one of the safe houses.” He noted as he watched her. “It was around the time Bucky started looking for you and he insisted that it come back with us. Mentioned that if you had seen how much dust was collecting on it, you would have killed someone.”

She shook her head before she looked back over her shoulder at him. “I left it there when I decided to stop using the safe houses. It felt like it belonged to a life that I was no longer a part of.”

“Everyone comes back home eventually.” He said, giving her a smile.

She returned the smile before she found herself a moment later sitting on the bike while pulling her helmet over her head. The motions of bringing the bike to life caused a grin to pull at her lips even though it couldn’t be seen. The memories of it all made her wish that she hadn’t been going for a mission and just for a joy ride.

Lifting the visor on the helmet, she looked over at Clint. “Hop on.” It didn’t take Clint long to climb up behind her and get himself situated. “You better hold on to your arrows, Hawkeye.” She said before the sound of tires screeching along the pavement filled the air before she was taking off.

_____

With the information that Y/N had provided, each set of teams had managed to work their way in undetected. With their stealth, they had been able to take down several Hydra soldiers in the process. Each group hadn’t been met with anything they couldn’t handle.

At a majority of the locations, the teams had been able to clear it completely. That if anything they caught them in the middle of attempting to destroy any evidence. And with a little physical force, FRIDAY soon had access to it all.

For Bucky, Sam, and Steve, it had almost been too easy for them to make the progress they had. The lower level entrance had been left unguarded. While they had kept themselves ready for anything, there was something off. In comparison to the other’s reports, they had an easier time clearing each section of the building.

“Something doesn’t feel right.” It was Sam that voiced the same thought they were all thinking. “It shouldn’t be this easy. Not with the intel we have.”

Even with Redwing discreetly flying ahead, there wasn’t a soul they came in contact with. Thermal scans didn’t even pick up any guards on the levels above or below them. And that in itself should have brought them some sort of relief. But it didn’t.

“Maybe there’s another place she didn’t know about.” Steve added. They had been currently working their way through an area of the building that was used for storage. “Or they left in a rush knowing we were coming.”

“This place hasn’t been trashed yet.” Bucky noted. “They haven’t left. The better question is-”

“Found them.” Sam said as Redwing alerted him to the incoming soldiers. “It seems they’ve finally realized we’re here.”

“How many?” Bucky asked.

“Enough that we won’t break a sweat.” Sam responded with a shrug.

“Let’s hope so.” Steve responded just before the doors from both the left and right busted open.

Much like Sam had mentioned, the three of them had been able to handle the amount of soldiers that filled into the room. While the numbers may have been a tad daunting, with as much training as they had, it almost felt like another day in the office.

By the time the last one had been put down, the three of them had made it to the opposite side of the warehouse and through another corridor. Another part of the building that hadn’t been so much as touched or trashed as they were expecting. If anything, it was like they were preparing to move into this one.

“I don’t like this.” Bucky noted.

“I second that.” Sam said as he opened another door, finding stored equipment.

Some of the equipment had been covered up in sheets while some that were pressed against the wall were uncovered. All of it pieces to what Sam could assume was the new and improved Project Insight.

“This still doesn't make any sense.” Steve shook his head as he entered the room with the equipment, taking note of the pieces he could see.. “If the other locations are scrambling to destroy all of their information, what’s different about this one?”

“Maybe the ones that ambushed the compound were at this location?” Sam offered as he pulled one of the sheets off.”

The moment he did, he heard an audible gasp leave Steve and Bucky. Beneath the sheet had been a memory suppressing machine. And by the looks of it, it was as shiny as new.

“Makes sense.” Bucky shook his head, not being able to take his eyes off the machine in front of him. It made something in his stomach turn at the sight of it in front of him. “If they plan on creating enhanced-”

“They need a way to control them.” Steve shook his head as he looked over at Bucky.

As the three of them continued to look at the suppressing machine, they hadn't noticed the two agents sneaking up on them. And when Bucky had finally noticed it and began aiming at the soldiers in the doorway, a set of gunshots were going off. The bodies fell to the ground causing three sets of eyes to widen slightly before bracing themselves for what could be waiting just past the entry.

“First rule about entry ways,” A familiar voice filled the air before Y/N took a step into the entryway. “Never forget about them. You never know what lurks just beyond them.”

It wasn’t hard to miss the several emotions that played through Bucky before he settled on one. She could easily see the way his eyes shifted from disbelief to anger before he began shaking his head and closing the space between them.

“Barton unconscious somewhere?” He asked her as he came to a stop in front of her, his eyes narrowing at her.

“Like I’d let her even try.” Clint said as he came into the room a moment later. While his hold on the bow string had eased, he hadn’t let it go completely.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Bucky asked, never pulling his attention off of her. “The whole reason for you staying behind-”

“I listened.” She cut him off with a shrug. “You said nothing about following behind after you left.”

She knew that was probably one of the worst things she could have said. She was trying to ease some of the growing tension between them. Before Bucky could even begin to voice his irritation with what she had said, she continued.

“It can’t just be you doing this. I need to be here just as much.” She kept her eyes on him. “This is my life they currently have a hold on and I need to be here to see that it’s destroyed. I can’t be the one to sit around and wait and hope that it all works out. I’m here now and it’d be pointless to make me leave. I can handle this and you know it.”

Her attention may have been on him, watching as anger and frustration began to change to worry, but she hadn’t missed the movement out of her right peripheral. The other three were to her left and there was no way it could have been any of the others. It caused her to lift her gun and pull the trigger without looking away from him. A thud followed shortly after.

“I feel like that’s convincing enough.” Sam noted. A chuckle from Clint followed a moment later.

A glare formed on Bucky’s face as he continued to look at her. There were a million things going through his mind at that moment. He wanted to drag her out of there and take her back to the compound. He wanted her as far away from here as possible.

He knew that out of the options of facilities she pointed out that this one was the one to be more on alert about. That fact was proven with what they had just finished dealing with. The chances of Strucker being there were growing by the minute.

But his face had softened a bit as understanding had begun to fill him. While he wanted her safe, he couldn’t force her to leave. And if he was being honest with himself, there was a part of him that knew she would do something like this. It never failed that Y/N would be somewhere she shouldn’t be.

I just got you back. He wanted to tell her. I don’t know what I’d do if-

“Stay close to us.” He said a moment later. “If anything even comes close to going south, you get out of here and don’t look back.”

It was the only way he was going to accept her staying there. He wasn’t going to let her be anywhere out of arm's reach while they were there. And if the moment things got out of their control, he was going to make sure she made it out safely.

“You got it Sarge.” She said with a mock salute before a small smirk pulled at the corner of her lips.

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed, we’ve managed to clear out a majority of this level. Minus the few of them trickling in.” Steve said, pulling their attention. While any other time he would have left the two to deal with this, now wasn’t the time. “Do you think with this breathing room we could hook up FRIDAY?”

“It wouldn’t be too hard to do.” She said with a slight shrug. “We could technically do it from down here. I just need to get to the servers down the hall.” She pointed her thumb towards a hallway towards her left.

She tried to ignore the raised eyebrows she saw. It was slightly off putting to be there as it was. And for that information to come out so easily, it added to the unspoken list that showed she had been there multiple times over the last six months.

Multiple times that some of them never resurfaced in her memories. Some of them blended with others that made it seem like she had been there less than she actually had been. But one thing was for sure. Out of the options of facilities that the Avengers had split up to, this was the one she knew like the back of her hand.

Her eyes began wandering. While she had been down this hall several times, she’d never seen inside this room. She had taken notice of the equipment by the walls and the sheets that seemed to take over a majority of the room. Just as her eyes were about to land on the machinery behind Sam, Bucky had her spun so that she was facing the exit.

“I promise it’s not worth the look.” Bucky noted from behind her, before gently leading her out of the room and out of the way for the others to exit.

It didn't take them long to make it down towards the Server room. Steve took the lead, keeping his eyes scanning just in case. Bucky and Y/N followed behind, with Sam and Clint at the back. And when they were at the server room door, it had been easy to break the lock allowing them entry.

It was almost as if she was moving on autopilot when she stepped into the room. Her mind had instantly known where to go to access the laptop tucked away. She had it open and ready before Steve or Bucky made it to her side after checking out the rest of the room. Something she hadn’t even thought about doing before walking right over.

Steve handed her a flash drive and she got to work. The four men kept an eye out for anything while her fingers ran across the keyboard. Her fingers hitting the keys had been the only sound coming from the room. All of them were on edge as she attempted to make this fast.

When she first started, she had a smirk pulling at her lips with how familiar the key strokes had been. How easy it was to hack into the system in comparison to the other things she had been up against. It wasn’t until a thought crossed her mind.

Why is this too easy?

The further she got into the system, the more that smirk fell from her lips. Even though she only needed a few more seconds before FRIDAY could take over, there was something in the back of her mind raising red flags. Soon her brows began to furrow as her fingers began moving at a snail's pace.

FRIDAY was uploading. But it had been way too easy. She was sure there would have been several more walls she would have had to break through before she had gotten to this point. It was almost as if there wasn’t anything fighting her to get in. Even she knew that Strucker wouldn’t have allowed the system to be left so unguarded.

A moment later, FRIDAY’s upload was stopped short of completing. A secondary window popped up without her so much as pressing a key. It sent a spike of fear through her. It had been a camera view of the room, pointed directly at the group. Almost as if it was watching them.

“Bucky…” She said, keeping her attention on the screen.

Bucky came and stood beside her the instant she said his name. The change in her voice was enough to set off alarms in his mind. He could see the codes moving on the screen without her touching the keyboard as the video footage continued to play.

“Did you?” He asked, wanting to be sure. He watched as she looked over at him and shook her head. “Come on,” Bucky said, a heartbeat later, taking her hand. “We need to get you out of here.”

The words had barely filled the air before the sound of glass breaking followed. The metallic clink of smoke grenades hitting the ground proved just how much of a turn this had taken in a short time. Smoke filled the air that made it almost impossible to see through it.

“There’s a stairwell just around the corner to the upper level.” She said as her hand tightened around Bucky’s for a moment before letting go and reaching for the knives at her hips. She knew without a clear sight she wouldn’t be able to use her gun. She could easily fight through with the knives she had on hand and make it through the otherside.

“Stay close.” Bucky said as he pulled his own weapons and readied himself. “If you see an opening to-”

“Leave.” She finished for him. “I know. “

She heard him and understood what he was saying. But she wasn’t going to leave him behind while she got out. She wasn’t sure how or when she’d actually do so but she was determined to get him out of there, even if it meant without her.

The sound bullets hitting metal filled the air, followed by the sound of an arrow whizzing by. Each of them engaged with soldiers that found their way into the room. The group made their way towards one of the broken windows and it wasn’t long after that Bucky and Y/N were out in the hall, facing another set of incoming soldiers.

They moved in sync the moment they moved into the hallway. It didn’t matter which way soldiers came at them, they had each other covered. It was a routine that they had developed after years of being on missions together. Something that had only ever felt comfortable between the two of them. It never flowed as smoothly with anyone else.

It didn’t matter the steps they took toward the stairwell she mentioned, they had each other covered. Where one dropped their arm, the other had replaced it. Maneuvers that put them back to back, or chest to chest, the two easily brought down the numbers they faced.

Any time someone got too close, one or the other would take care of them before falling back into the routine only they knew. By the time they reached the opening to the stairwell, they were left facing each other with no more incoming attacks, for however brief that may be.

Once their eyes met each other’s, they dropped their weapon to their sides. In one heartbeat, Bucky nodded his head once. A silent question if she was alright. She gave a nod as her response. And in the next heartbeat, Bucky was pulling her into him, his lips descending on hers.

It was a brief moment of release. It was a mix of the adrenaline from the fight and the longing that they both kept buried within them. It was a way to convey everything they hadn’t been able to in the last two years.

Bucky pulled her closer just as she wrapped her arms around his neck. How easy it would be just to get lost within each other. But both of them knew of the dangers they found themselves in. Neither of them lost to the emotions and physical actions they were feeling.

“Hate to break up the moment, but this definitely isn’t the time for this.” Clint said the moment he found the two.

A huff of a chuckle passed Bucky’s lips as he reluctantly pulled away from her. His eyes met hers and he could see the slight smirk tug at her lips as she shook her head. It was definitely worth it.

“What just happened?” Sam asked with a raised brow as he joined them.

“Nothing.” Bucky said, giving Y/N a wink before nodding his head towards the stairwell entry. “We were waiting for you guys to catch up.”

“We weren’t that far behind.” Clint noted, earning an eye roll from Bucky and a soft laugh from Y/N.

“Floor is cleared for now.” Steve approved the group last. “But the faster we get out of here, the better.”

“Up the stairs we go.” She said to the others before turning and heading up.

When they cleared the stairwell, she led them down the hall towards the left. She couldn’t place it, but everything within her gut was telling her she should have gone for the other hallway instead of the way she knew would lead them out of the building. The obvious choice could cost them seconds, but backtracking for a gut feeling would cost them more.

The main entryway to the facility would be around through the corner. They could regroup outside of it while waiting for the others.

It was as the group rounded the corner that they all skidded to a stop. Blocking their way out were several Hydra soldiers. Each of them with a gun pointed at the group. Strucker stood in the back of them, a smirk pulling at his lips.

When they attempted to turn back around, several more crowded the hall, pushing them towards the middle of the open space. The numbers in comparison looked daunting. They were surrounded and backup wouldn’t be there for a bit longer.

“What are our chances of fighting out of this one?” Sam said low enough for only the five of them to hear.

“It’s not like we haven’t before.” Clint noted.

“We’re running low on everything.” Bucky added.

“We’ll make it enough.” Steve said as they braced themselves.

“Well done, Phantom.” Strucker’s voice held humor within it as he eased his way to the front of the line. He came to a stop just a few steps directly in front of Y/N. “Part of me thought with Maximoff in your head that things wouldn’t go according to plan. But here you are.”

All five of their faces fell as they took in his words. The men looked over at her for an answer. But they all saw the same thing. She was just as confused as they were.

“No.” She shook her head. “I didn’t-” She looked towards Bucky with her mirrored expression. “I wouldn’t.

A light chuckle passed Strucker’s lips, gaining her attention once more. “It’s there in that head of yours. You may not remember our conversation, but the programming in your mind remembers it.” His eyes moved towards Bucky before moving over to the others beside them. “You were told not to return until your mission was completed.”

“The mission failed!” She said as she took a step towards him. She could feel the way the worry morphed into tension beside her. She needed them to know she didn’t betray them. “My mission was to take them down and kill the former Winter Soldier. He still lives. The Avengers still stand and they are tearing apart your facilities as we speak.”

Strucker’s attention came back to her and he began closing the space between them, crowding her space. She tensed up as she felt his lips by her ear. “Not all commands are the mission. Dig a little deeper into that head of yours, Phantom. Your commands come from me, not your handler.”

An unpleasant chill ran through her as she attempted to take a step back. Her hand almost instinctively reached back for Bucky. But Strucker grabbed a hold of her arm, keeping her from doing so. He took several steps back, pulling her with him.

She heard several guns cocking back and she was sure it had something to do with Bucky attempting to take a step towards her. But she wasn’t going to take her eyes off of Strucker, just in case. But it was as her eyes met his, and saw the gleam in his eyes that she learned what her mission had been.

Strucker stood in front of her, the very building where they had been collecting all of the equipment they’d need for his plan. A smirk had pulled at his lips as he took her in, ready for her final mission. His plan was just a few steps away.

Her eyes barely shifted as he closed the space between them. “Several units are setting up for a mission. The target is the Avengers’ compound. Their mission is to cause a distraction enough for you to get in while attempting to take out the Avengers. They will more than likely fail. Your mission will be to kill the former Winter Soldier. I need him out of the way for several reasons. But that won’t be your only mission. Get the others here by any means necessary. Get them to follow you here or however else you can. We’ll need them for the next phase. Your handler believes you only have one mission. Make it believable. Understood?”

“What is your mission?” Strucker asked as a way to make sure she fully understood.

“Kill the former Winter Soldier. Lure the Avengers here.” The words came quickly from her.

“Good. Make sure you don’t return until you are successful in your mission.” Strucker’s head nodded before holding out a file to her. “You have five hours to prep.”

Her heart sank into her stomach the moment the memory played out. She couldn’t bring herself to look away from Strucker, even as guilt and self hatred was growing within her. If she had known that had been buried within her, she never would have allowed them to go.

What made her feel worse was Bucky standing a few feet behind her. Steve chose this location to go to when he split them into teams. This had been the closest location and by some chance, they ended up here. And soon after she followed.

Don't return until your mission is complete.

“And there it is.” A smirk pulled at Strucker’s lips. “Such a perfect Asset. Completes missions even when she’s believed to be free. But as the property of Hydra, there is no freedom. Only obedience.”

From his words she was desperate to prove him wrong. She wanted to prove to herself that she still had some control over her own mind. And without another thought, she was pulling her last loaded gun from her belt with it aimed directly at Strucker’s head.

Two soldiers flanked her with their guns drawn and aimed at her. She could see them from the corners of her vision and she didn’t care. It didn’t matter that they were there. A simple pull of a trigger and she was sure she’d be able to maneuver herself out of the way before the soldiers could even get their finger to move.

She had it planned out. She had it all thought out and ready within a blink of pulling that gun up. They would be able to fight their way out and this would be a successful mission. But as she went to pull the trigger, she found her brain telling her she shouldn’t do it. That she couldn’t do it. And that confidence she had burning within her moments ago was quickly extinguished the moment Strucker started to chuckle.

“You’re not going to pull the trigger, Phantom.” A smirk pulled at Strucker’s lips.

“You don’t know that.” She responded quickly. “Maybe I’m just stalling.”

She tried to keep her voice even. She tried to make it sound like she knew what she was doing. But there was a part of her that had fear growing within her.

“Stalling?” He scoffed and took a step into the gun. The barrel of the gun touched his forehead. “Everyone in this room knows how quick you are when you’ve set your mind to it. I should already be dead on the ground. Yet, you claim you’re stalling. We both know you can’t. So why don’t you follow orders and hand the gun over.”

She fought everything within her to pull the damn trigger. Anything to wipe that smug look off of his face as he watched her. But once again, there was something forcing her not to and she hated that she didn’t know what it was.

Hearing the frustrated cry pass her lips as she handed over the gun had caused an ache to fill Bucky’s chest. He knew there was more to her reprogramming than they had known and there was nothing she could do about it. All she could do was follow orders. His orders.

“That’s my girl.”

Hearing the words come from Strucker had caused something to grow within Bucky. It was a feeling that Bucky wasn’t sure he had ever felt before. And as he watched Strucker grab Y/N’s chin, making her look directly at him, Bucky was itching to pull a trigger.

“Tell me, Sergeant Barnes.” Strucker’s eyes never left Y/N’s face as his grip on her chin tightened slightly. “Was she as obedient with you as she is with me? Accepting every command, without a second thought?”

Bucky watched as she fought Strucker’s hold before he leaned in and whispered something into her ear. It caused her to stiffen and her movements to stop altogether. If Bucky thought he wanted him dead just for being a part of a Hydra, he wanted it even more now.

The anger that had been building within him from the moment they walked into the room was growing with each word that left the man’s mouth. But that anger became boiling the moment his eyes flicked to her face.

From where he stood, he could see the way her eyes were welled with tears but there had been a vacant look within them. Bucky couldn’t even begin to think about what memories she could be reliving in the moment just from Strucker’s words. It made him want to personally bash his skull in.

As Bucky was about to take a step forward, Steve grabbed a hold of his arm. “She’s still in there.” Steve whispered. “Watch her hand.”

His eyes flashed towards Y/N’s hands. Her pointer finger made slight tracing motions along the side of her tactical suit. It was the same pattern the two used frequently. She was trying to pull herself out of the torment she was currently in. Bucky needed to get the attention off of her in some way.

“The difference between us Strucker,” Bucky began, attempting to get his attention off of her. “Is that you had to take her will away from her in order for her to accept you. I never needed to.”

He racked his brain for something that would help her. A passage from her book had flashed through his mind. As much as he learned some of her commands hadn’t worked during the ambush, he knew some of the core settings were still within her. There was no getting rid of those. And no matter how much he hated to think about triggering her in any way, he knew this might just work in her favor. He just hoped that it wouldn’t pull her too far in that he couldn’t get her out.

Without missing a beat, Bucky continued. “Proves she’d never come willingly to be used for your simple pleasures.”

The moment the words filled the air, that pulled Y/N in deeper to the memories that she had been currently revisiting. And with that memory came a command that had never been rewritten. One that she just needed to be reminded of.

Rumlow's thumb and finger grabbed her chin roughly and lifted it, forcing her to look up into his eyes. A small tick of a smirk pulled at his lips as he saw the familiarity of nothingness in her eyes. "She does have a pretty face. No wonder her missions are always successful.

"Careful Rumlow." Pierce's voice filled the air. His attention on the paperwork on the desk off to the side. "Unlike the others, this one is allowed to fight back. You won't be able to get your dick wet before she goes back to her handler."

"Shame." There was disappointment lacing his words. "I would have loved a little pleasure before the mission with Rogers." His thumb eased pressure against her chin before running it along her bottom lip.

Her hands twitched at her sides. Almost fighting the need to connect her fist to his face. The echo of her programming and Handler's voice playing in her mind. “An asset such as yourself will never be used for simple pleasures. Anyone who tries to take that pleasure for the sake of anything other than the mission at hand should be slain without question. They’ll jeopardize the mission if they try.”

“Phantom.” Pierce said never taking his eyes off of the paper in his hand. Her eyes shot towards the man even though she still couldn’t turn her head with Rumlow’s hold. “Go easy on him. He doesn’t know any better.”

The moment she saw the slightest nod of his head, her hand was wrapped around Rumlow’s wrist and twisted his arm before flipping him on his back. Shock filled Rumlows face as he tried to counter but was met with a blow to the groin before the same combat boot fit snugly against his neck, keeping him pinned to the ground. She would have killed him if her original handler hadn’t come into the room and stopped her moments later.

When the memory cleared her mind, her eyes focused on Strucker. A smirk pulled at his lips seeing the way they had focused on him. But unlike the vacant expression he had seen moments ago, there was a fire burning within her eyes.

The moment he blinked, Y/N had her hand wrapped around his wrist and twisting quickly. In the same moment, she was pulling her hidden blade and throwing it directly into the eye of the nearest Hydra soldier beside them. And that was when the others began taking action along with her.

Arrows and bullets flew through the air and occasionally in the corner of her eyes, she could see Steve’s shield making its way across the room. She even caught glimpses of Bucky making sure she was clear from anyone else coming at her. But no matter what was going on around her, her focus had solely been on Strucker.

It was obvious Strucker was no stranger to combat. She could see it within his movements. After she had twisted his wrist to break free from his hold, he had been countering her attacks. He had studied her movements long before this. Long before she was ever brought to him. But in comparison to her, he was hardly struggling to keep up.

She didn’t care though. It may have been the commands threaded through her brain that kept her going, but she was fueled by all the pent up anger she had within her. Everything that she was forced to endure by the hands of someone else fanned those flames that burned within her. And nothing was going to stop her until his heart stopped beating.

The voices and sounds around her had meant nothing to her. Her tunnel vision only led to Strucker. When she said she wanted to make sure this ended here, she knew it would begin with Strucker and she wasn’t going to allow him to leave the building alive.

While a part of her wanted to just let loose on him and take out all that anger on him, she knew he was expecting that. She knew that he could use her rage to his advantage and take the upper hand. She refused to allow herself to be stuck within his grasp again. Instead, she was setting up the trap and Strucker just needed to take bait.

While she may have been meeting him strike for strike, her efforts were a lot less than his. His need to have the upper hand stronger than the rationality that she was someone who made plans on the spot. She needed him exhausted. She needed him to be beaten down enough that once he realized that she was toying with him, it’d be too late.

“You’re doing all of this for what?” Strucker asked as he blocked her fist as it came towards him. “Freedom? It’s something you’ll never have. Not with everything locked within your brain.”

“Freedom.” She scoffed as she pushed him back hard enough to give her space. “You’re right. There is none when you’ve been turned into a weapon. But I’ll get as close to it as I can. Starting with killing you.”

And when the two met once more, Y/N had blades in her hand. Ones that had been tucked into the sleeves of her tactical suit. Ones that Strucker hadn’t seen coming. And while he tried to block, she was quicker.

Each maneuver he attempted to evade her blades, ended up with him getting nicked in all the places she was strategically aiming for. And when she had Strucker exactly where she wanted him, the blade pierced his chest. It had been a direct hit into his heart just as she had always been trained for. One hit and she could see life begin to drain from his eyes.

“Freedom may never be in the cards for me. But I’ll fight like hell to make sure no one goes through what I did.” There was a satisfaction that filled her as she watched his last breath leave his lips.

She had killed plenty with this close proximity. But there was something about watching Strucker die at her hands that made this all the more personal. She wrapped her hand around the handle of the blade and something within her snapped.

She had pulled the blade out of his chest before quickly forcing it back in. It still landed in a way she knew had hit his heart once more. But it wasn’t enough for her. She repeated the action again and again. With each time the blade was forced into his chest, it still hadn’t felt like enough.

Bucky called out to her, but her mind refused to register it. Her mind was a mess of emotions and all it could focus on was continuing to stab the body in front of her. She had lost count of how many times she had repeated the motion. Lost count of the amount of times she either hit the same initial wound, or made new ones into his chest. It wasn’t long after that she felt vibranium wrap around her and pull her away.

“He’s gone.” Bucky said calmly, trying to reassure her. “It’s over.”

He felt her still for a brief moment before her elbow met his stomach, causing him to release her. His eyes widened as she took several steps away from him. A heart beat later, Bucky was blocking the blade that came towards him. While he should have been worried, he saw the look in her eyes. The rage he saw within them hadn’t left yet.

Bucky easily maneuvered the blade out of her hand and tossed it off to the side. If she needed to work out the rage, he’d let her do it. While he didn’t want to fight her again, he knew she needed an outlet. Killing Strucker barely made a dent in what she must have been feeling. And when she came at him with her fists, he was ready for it.

Her moves were sloppy. Unlike earlier with her planned movements, the rage within her was only seeking to harm in some form or another. There wasn’t a care with how she tried, she just needed to draw blood. It was how Bucky was able to keep her focus on him.

He heard the other’s rushing to their side. Clint and Sam were behind Y/N and Bucky could see Clint take a step towards her. They weren’t sure what was going on with Y/N and they wanted to stop her before anything happened.

“Don’t.” Bucky said as he blocked another of her hits.” She’s okay. She just needs to work it out of her system.”

When Y/N attempted another hit, Bucky had been able to dodge it before getting a hold of her arms. It was to get her to stop her movements. To stop going blindly at this.

“Look at me.” He said as she attempted to get out of his hold. His voice remained calm. “It’s me. There’s no other threat.”

At first, her eyes lifted to his but she hadn’t seen him. Her brain still had wires crossed and she couldn’t focus on him. But she had heard his voice. The break in the sea of rage she felt. And as her fists hit against his chest, the first emotion other than rage hit her.

Her fists continued to hit at his chest, but with each hit they lessened in strength. As they lessened, Bucky could see the way her bottom lip trembled. He knew that the rage that had been consuming her was leaving her body.

“It’s just us.” Bucky promised as his hold on her loosened, before rubbing his hands along her arm. He watched as tears welled up and small sob passed her lips. “If you still need to let it out, do it. But know you’re still safe with me. With us.” He watched as her eyes flicked over to others before they moved back to him, finally taking him in. “I promise it’s over.”

She began shaking her head quickly, taking several steps back from him. Her eyes stayed on his. “It’s never going to be over.”

Bucky hadn’t missed the way her eyes were now dimmed in comparison to the fire he saw within them when she first joined them earlier. The determination for this to be over and done with had fueled those flames. Now that she was currently covered in Strucker’s blood, he could see that fire was being extinguished.

“We’ll do our best to make sure it’s over.” Bucky said, taking a step closer to her, but she took a step back as he did. His face fell before making sure his feet were planted on the ground.

Y/N was processing everything and needed some resemblance of space. That was her way of asking for it. There were several things going through her mind and the simple statement of this whole thing being over didn’t sit well with her. There were too many things that were left open.

They had all once believed that it was over. That there would be nothing left. They believed Hydra was gone and they had been clipping every weed they believed was growing. They believed none of the smaller cells had grown larger after clipping them. Yet here they were and she was tangled within those growing weeds.

“They keep coming back.” Her voice broke towards the end. They had all heard it and she hadn’t missed their reactions to her words.

For every version of her they saw and faced, this was something she was one hundred percent certain they’d never seen this side of her. The broken and afraid version of herself. The emotions she hardly felt and couldn’t even remember the last time she had felt as she did now.

“He was right.” Her eyes moved between the men that stood in front of her. “It will never be over as long as I can be used as a weapon.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m better off locked-”

“No.” Bucky said, shaking his head. He risked taking another step closer towards her. She hadn’t moved. “We can make sure that would never happen again.“ He didn’t want her thinking she needed to be locked away. He didn’t want her to feel as if she couldn’t have the freedom that she was seeking.

“You shouldn’t make those kinds of promises.” She wiped at the tears falling down her cheeks.

Promises to keep her safe weren’t something she needed or wanted to hear. If anything, it had been a low blow for her to even begin to say what she had been thinking. But it seemed Bucky caught on to the meaning pretty quickly without even needing to say more. She could see within his facial features.

He shook his head slightly. “I’m not going to break this one.” He took another step towards her and once again she took another one back. “I will do everything I can to make sure you will never be used that way again.”

As he took a final step towards her, that dimming fire he’d been watching within her eyes had been snuffed out. There was no light within them. It wasn’t replaced by coldness or anger. Nor had fear grown with his words. All he could see within them was emptiness. He watched as she barely gave a nod of her head before she turned and walked away from them.

_____

Several hours later, Y/N kept her arms wrapped around herself as Bucky led her towards his room. There was a time where she had the pathway memorized. That if she ever needed to find his room with her eyes closed, she could find it easily. But now? It felt like a lifetime ago that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to find it now.

After each of the teams returned back to the compound, she had felt suffocated by the amount of people that were wanting to talk with her. The debrief had almost felt like an interrogation and she hated every moment of it. Her brief relief of it all was when she got to clean herself up away from everyone.

What made it worse was the looks Clint and Steve kept giving her at any point. The looks that told her they were waiting for the right opportunity to keep asking her if she was okay. As if they were waiting for the moment that she would break completely. Waiting to help pick up the pieces of the mess that was bound to happen.

If it hadn’t been for Bucky’s soft ‘Will you come with me?’, she was sure she would have snapped. She was sure she would have taken it out on one of them and wouldn’t have batted an eye when she left their ass on the ground as she walked away.

It was safe to say that part of her was on edge. Even as she stepped into Bucky’s room and he closed the door behind them, she didn’t feel at ease. Her eyes scanned the room and there was a part of her that hated how she was currently feeling while standing there.

Nothing had changed since she left. Yet everything almost felt unfamiliar to her. These walls had once become a safe haven to her and now, she wasn’t sure. Her fingers had itched to reach out and touch things. Things that her memories were telling her that was okay to do. But did she now have a right to?

Bucky watched her as he leaned against the back of the door. He watched as her eyes moved from one place to another, taking everything in. He noticed the way she held herself as she did. She wasn’t relaxed in the slightest. It reminded him of the first time she had stepped into his room.

The difference between then and now was that she was carrying herself differently. The attitude she had the first time she had come into his room almost made him want to toss her out and have FRIDAY make it so she couldn’t even step by the door without it locking loudly. Now, she was a shell of herself that didn’t trust anything or anyone.

He sighed softly and it caused her to look towards him. “You’re safe here, you know.”

“Am I?” Her words sounded lifeless. “I-” She stopped herself and bit on the inside of her lips.

Pushing away from the door, Bucky moved towards the bed and sat down at the edge of it. “You used to feel safe here. Once we actually became friends, you used to find your way in here after missions. You’d sit right here,” He motioned to the space next to him. “And we’d talk about whatever it was we wanted to.”

She nodded her head but none of the tension left her body. “I know. I just don’t understand why you’d want me here now.”

“For one you were about to knock Steve on his ass.” A small smile pulled at his lips and he watched her relax a little bit. “I figured you’d want a moment without the whole team practically invading your space.”

That allowed her to ease her hold on herself. A sigh passed her lips as she began looking around the room once more. “I’m not used to it anymore. I forgot what it’s like for everyone to care.”

“They’ve been looking for you for over two years.” He noted with a nod of his head. “I don’t expect them to ease up for a while.”

They. For some reason that single word made her heart ache. It wasn’t ‘we’. Part of her knew that Bucky probably hadn’t been reaching out for her to come back. She knew that. She saw the messages in the safe houses from everyone but him. But he had started looking for her at some point. Even Clint had mentioned that with her bike. Bucky brought it back for her. He knew there was a chance she was coming back.

There was no question that things were different. Her truth was out and Bucky knew she was a part of Hydra. He had been there for her when she woke up in one of the spare rooms and didn’t leave her until they got to the interrogation room. It was easy to fall into place with him during the mission. They had kissed and the familiarity and hunger within it felt like it was a start to mending things.

So why did her body act as if it was bracing for a goodbye?

“I can practically see the wheels turning in your mind.” He said after a moment of watching her. When she didn’t say anything in response, he began to worry. “Please, say something. Anything...”

He knew she wasn’t pulled into some memory. She was moving around, in a small radius at that, and looking around at things. But she was lost in her thoughts and he could see that her eyes hadn’t drifted off to somewhere else. They may still hold the emptiness he saw earlier, but she was still there with him.

He watched as she looked over at him. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she closed it again. She ran a hand along her face and Bucky could see she was having trouble with whatever she was trying to say.

Standing, Bucky closed the distance between them and placed his hands gently on her arms, trying to bring her some comfort. “You can say anything you need to. First thing that comes to mind.”

“Do you even want me here?” She asked after a few seconds. His shocked expression told her he hadn’t been expecting her to say.

“I am so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t.” He said as he brought his right hand up to her cheek. “Before the last twenty four hours, the last few things I said to you were out of anger and hurt. My apology should have been the first thing I said once we got you back.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize for a reaction that anyone else would have given.”

“But I never should have made you leave.” He sighed softly. “Yes, I needed time. I needed space to process it all. I couldn’t bring myself to just easily forgive you. The others didn’t believe it. From the moment I told them, they pieced together a whole list why you weren’t a danger to us and hadn’t been for a while.” He shook his head. “But I was stubborn and I didn’t see it the same way they did.”

Her eyes met his. “Can I ask when it changed for you?”

There was a small tug at the corner of his lips. “After a stakeout with Sam.”

His words caused a small smile to pull at her lips at his words. “Not the same?”

“No, not at all.” He brushed his knuckles along her cheek and she leaned into it. “That was when I realized I was missing you. By the next mission, I knew I wanted to start helping to look for you. But by then, you hadn’t been at a safehouse for over six months. I even had a horribly rehearsed apology for when I did find you.” Her eyebrow raised but he continued. “I would have told you how sorry I was for treating you the way I did. That I should have taken your offer of space instead of forcing you to leave, on your birthday of all days. That I am sorry for digging into your past instead of just coming to you and asking you. I’m sure I still would have been angry, but I wouldn’t have made the huge mistake of letting you go. And because of that mistake you found yourself in a situation you couldn’t escape from.”

“Bucky,” She placed her hand on top of his. “What happened out there was bound to happen. If not out there, it would have been while here or on a mission. I am a weapon who doesn't have their free will. I am a piece of property that-”

“You aren't.” He cut her off. “Not any more. You belong to yourself. No one else is going to take that away from you.” His eyes met hers and he could see the uncertainty within them. “I will do everything I can to make sure you never have to worry about that again. The others will help, you know that right?”

The words settled over her for a few moments before she nodded her head. Yes she knew they would do everything they could to help keep her from being used as she had. But the same thoughts played through her mind. There would always be others who would try.

Others that would try to continue the work of Hydra in some form or another. And if she was being honest with herself, there was the possibility they would come for her. How many times would the team be willing to keep her from being captured. How many times until they’d give up entirely and not want her there.

“There is another way.” Bucky said, pulling her from her thoughts.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“You’re worried about several factors.” He noted. “I’ve been where you’ve been. You’re already thinking about how much danger you’ll put the rest of us in. Or how many times it will take until we decide it’s too much.” He watched as her shoulders fell slightly. “But there is another way we can do this to make sure you feel as free as you need to feel.”

“How?” She asked curiously. “It's not like-” She stopped herself as she realized what he meant. “Would they even want to help me?”

“I’m sure they would.” It was with those words Bucky noticed the briefest spark return in her eyes. It was something she could hold onto. A promise that she could be rid of the side of her that could easily be controlled. “I’ll get in contact with T’Challa and see what we can do.”

“Thank you.” She said with a small nod. She wasn’t even sure what else she could say besides that. As much as she wanted to begin to hope that this would really be the end of it all, she knew there was a possibility that they could be turned down. And getting her hopes up to be let down was the last thing she wanted to do.

“It's the least I can do.” He said, giving her a small smile.

She sighed softly. There was one more thing weighing on her mind. “Where does this leave us? We were in a moment earlier and I’m not expecting things to go back to the way they were.”

He nodded his head. She had a point. As easy and comfortable as it has been since she was back to just wanting to be near her like this, he knew it was going to be different in more ways than one.

“One day at a time.” He promised. “If we find that this isn’t what we want anymore, then we’ll be okay. But if this is something we want to try, it will be like a fresh start. Everything is out on the table. We’ll make it work.” A small chuckle passed his lips as a thought crossed his mind. He took a step back and held out his right hand towards her. “I’m James.”

She laughed as she began to bring her hand up to place in his. But she stopped just before her hand met his. Reality crashing within her mind. Her eyes met his as she placed her hand in his. “I don’t know who I am. I’ve gone by so many names that I don’t know which is the right one to give.”

The amusement that had been on his face had been replaced by a small reassuring smile. “I’ll help you figure that out. Whoever or whatever you want to be, I’ll be there with you while you learn who you are.”

While his words had been comforting that this was her chance of starting over, there was something deep within her that told her it wasn’t going to be that easy. How could she choose what to become when she only knew death and destruction for a majority of her life?

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