#bucky barnes x zombie au

[judesficrecs]

people need to write more zombie au's for my favorite characters

[marvelstoriesepic]

Whumpcember (day 12)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Zombie apocalypse au)

Prompt: I have nowhere else to go

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Enemies to lovers; zombies; mentions of murder; blood; death

Author’s note: This got a little too long for a fic that was initially meant to be a Drabble but I couldn’t bring myself to let it end earlier. And this was quite fun, since I’ve never written something like this before.

[Divider by @sweetmelodygraphics ]

Masterlist | Whumpcember Masterlist

Your side is stinging terribly, pulsing with every unsteady step.

Your legs fail at mimicking a normal stride, falling back into a limp.

Your hands tremble, defying every command to just stay still.

Your lungs sear with every breath, dragging air like fire down a raw throat.

Your head swims in chaotic loops, spinning with images and echoes you can’t escape.

Your shoulder and back throb from an impact you took earlier, sharp pain shooting up your spine with every jolt of your uneven stride.

The enormity of what just happened refuses to fit neatly into thought.

The sun is not even all up in the sky and your day already took a turn so cruel, you are teetering on the edge of collapse.

You stopped keeping track of time since this whole apocalyptic shit began but it's safe to say that you just lost everything you had in the span of maybe three hours.

You are exhausted. You are tired. You are in fear. You are in shock.

Acknowledging all of that is dangerous right now.

The world feels off-kilter.

Nausea rises again. Though there is nothing left in your stomach. You already emptied it on the forest floor before you stumbled into the trees, desperate to escape.

The acrid taste still lingers at the back of your throat.

The trees around you sway in your periphery, tall shadows painted in moonlight. It’s not the wind that makes them sway. It’s your vision. Branches claw at the sky like the dread claws at your resolve.

Your body is screaming at you to stop and collapse into the dirt, but you know if you let it, you won’t ever stand back up again.

You have to keep going.

You have to press on.

Your world has crumbled into rot and hunger, and all you have left is the instinct to run.

Run and survive.

Whatever that means now.

You have no sense of the distance you’ve put between you and the nightmarish scene you had to leave behind, no measure of the miles your aching legs already crossed.

You don’t know if they are right behind you. If they’re even coming for you.

It was barely dawn when they came.

It wasn’t a warning shot or a distant sound that reached the camp first. No, it was the impact.

The sound of boots trampling through the undergrowth, bodies charging through the trees, wild shapes silhouetted against the rising sun. Barked commands that carried no meaning, only menace.

You had barely time to register what was happening when they were already in the heart of the camp.

They scattered supplies, spilled meager rations into the dirt, kicked apart the fire pit still faintly glowing from the night before when your small group all sat in a circle around it.

With the first scream, violence erupted.

Blades flashed and mocking laughter rang out from all sides as you heard your companions cry out in terror and pain.

They scrambled from their makeshift shelters, some clutching weapons, others still groggy, confused, unarmed. There was no time to gather thoughts, no time to plan. The raiders were already upon you, tearing through tents and slaughtering everyone in their way.

You watched as Caleb lunged for them, but they cut him down before he even reached anybody.

You tried to get little Benjamin to safety but he got ripped away from you in a matter of seconds and you only felt the slash of a knife against your side.

You heard the guttural sobs of Jonna and her wide eyes as she couldn’t tear them off the lifeless body of her husband. You tried to reach her, grabbing her and getting her away but before you could, she got hit and fell. Just like her husband had moments earlier.

The thud of bodies hitting the ground, the clash of metal, the desperate screams of the people you knew and trusted, cutting off as quickly as they began, the splattered blood everywhere across the ground, slick on leaves, staining clothes of people who’d been alive only seconds earlier. Blood that is all over you, painted in your hair, in your face, on your hands-

You heave the bile against a nearby tree.

Your throat burns. The images burn. The memories burn.

The world is already torn apart as it is but they ripped at everything you had fought for.

You were pinned on the ground at one point. Brutally shoved down and the impact took your breath away. However, you were able to move out of the way of the knife that was meant for your face and instead buried into the ground. The surprise of your attacker weakened his hold on you and you were able to flee, but not without taking a few more hits.

Your friends were dead. Everything was destroyed.

So you ran.

You ran, stumbled, fell, scrambled up, and ran again.

You wondered if the raiders stayed to strip your makeshift camp bare or if they followed you. The last one alive. The one that slipped through their grasp.

Or maybe they’ve decided you’re not worth the effort, and your life hangs by nothing but chance.

After all, you feel death knocking on your door. And it will kick it in, hinges breaking and wood splintering if you don’t open it yourself.

But you won’t.

You push on. You will push your body to its breaking point.

Even if your mind shatters way before your body does.

Because you know you will crumble if you allow your thoughts to win over your body.

You just lost everything you had.

Your group was only on the move.

The camp was supposed to be a fleeting thing. A place to catch your breath from traveling. This morning you were all supposed to pack what little you had and keep moving and get closer to the sanctuary you had spoken of. A place you were going to build. A place where no raid, no nightmare, no lifeless beast could touch you.

So, if you had risen earlier, broken down the camp faster, perhaps this wouldn’t have happened. Perhaps your friends - the few people who so graciously took you in almost two years ago - would still be alive.

You don’t even know who the marauders were. They came out of nowhere.

A realization makes your blood run cold.

Something you remembered only now.

The sounds.

You heard it between the screams of your friends at one point. Low, throaty, and too familiar. The kind of sound that makes your pulse rise and pricks the back of your neck.

It was the sound you learned to fear. The sound your world had been drowning in for years now.

The sound of the dead - those shambling remnants of humanity, curses to wander the earth as mindless husks.

You remember the way they started moving so differently than when they came into your camp - some of them sluggish, others unnervingly erratic.

And you begin to wonder. Perhaps they had been bitten before raiding your camp.

And perhaps that’s the reason they came. They knew their time was up. They probably felt the infection eating at them, death clawing closer. Maybe attacking your group was their last violent eruption of humanity, the last thing they did with a conscious mind before they fell to the disease that had already claimed their souls.

They didn’t have anything left to lose. No loved ones to mourn. No future to fight for. Just an empty void ahead. A transformation into something even crueler than the monsters they already were. Perhaps they wanted this last conscious act to mean something. To carve their names into the memory of the world before they became nothing more than rotting corpses, stumbling through the dirt without a single thought in mind.

It makes you sick.

If they wanted to be remembered, they succeeded. You will remember. You will remember the massacre, the destruction, the screams, the wicked laughter that curdled your blood.

You will remember them because the screams of the people you came to love and trust have planted themselves into your chest and they won’t ever leave.

Maybe that’s what they wanted. To leave a mark, no matter how meaningless, no matter how vile. Or maybe they simply wanted to take something beautiful and shred it before they joined the walking rot.

Either way, they are gone now and you are left.

Alone.

You are left alone.

On the way to the one place you never thought your feet would lead you to again.

The one you meant to leave behind. To forget. To never return to. To move on.

Though you have to admit to yourself it never worked as well as you had hoped.

It has been two years since you left.

Two years of telling you to lock those doors with memories you tried to forget for so long.

And now, the thought of going back lets dread curl around your chest. It’s the dread of walking into a place you don’t know if you’re welcome anymore. The dread of facing what you left behind - facing who you left behind.

But there is also a flicker of something else. Something that feels too fragile, too dangerous to name. You tell yourself it’s nothing - just a memory, nostalgia - but you can’t quite smother it.

Because those people were your family once. Before you left, before you found the group you traveled with these last two years, they were your everything. Your friends, your loved ones, your sanctuary.

They were the ones that held you together when the world fell apart, the ones who gave you a purpose in this now purposeless society.

You left them behind to find something that you lost again just earlier.

The new group you had come to call your own, the people you fought beside, laughed with, dreamed with. All gone. Taken from you in a single, brutal morning. By people you couldn’t even take revenge on anymore. By people who aren’t even people anymore.

And you know your new companions never replaced your first family but they were home nonetheless.

But now, you have nowhere else to go but the place you called home first.

Though, would you really be welcome after all this time?

Would they let you in? Would they open their gates and arms for you?

Would he let you in?

Because truly, that is the only question that matters. You know the hearts of the others, know that they would be happy to see you again.

Sam, with his wide toothy grin. He’d throw his arms around you and clap you on the back and tell you something that would make you laugh despite everything.

Steve, with that glint in his eyes. Because he never truly believed you wouldn’t return.

Wanda, with the tears in her gaze. She’d pull you into her embrace, whispering how she’d prayed for this and never given up hope.

Natasha, with her amused smirk. She’d stand a step behind with her arms crossed and tease you that it only took two years for you to miss them enough to lose all the dignity you could hold onto and came back.

And all the others who would greet you with happy smiles and tears and hugs. Because that’s who they are. Who they’ve always been. They are pure love for those they call their own.

And you have been one of them.

Of course, your sight would first be met with concern at your condition, but the joyful reunion would eventually happen. Banner would fuss over you but keep the worry out of his calm hands and voice like the professional he is. Tony would bark orders, his mind already working ten steps ahead. Peter would hover nearby, ready to help, ready to do whatever was needed to put you back together.

You imagine how they would patch you up, make sure you didn’t collapse right there at their feet. They’d press water into your hands, bandage the gashes, stitch the torn skin. They would give you time to breathe, to settle.

A smile almost manages to spread over your lips but the exhaustion in your bones tugs the corners of your mouth back down.

And there is this one person you’re not sure about. What will he do when he sees you? What will he say? Will he say anything at all?

There is a reason you left, after all.

The community you all lived in was a big one with men and women and children and elders all sharing a beautiful and vast space.

You had all agreed on not having a single leader to rule but rather having the few most trusted people who started this whole thing to do councils every so often.

Once, you were one of them.

You would meet up, usually when the night had already started, discussing and making decisions - everything involving supply runs, how to keep the walls protected, how to celebrate a birth or mourn a loss, and so on.

Bucky was a part of that as well.

And that’s where the trouble lay.

You two never really seemed to see each other eye to eye. You would fight and banter - him calling you stubborn and reckless, you calling him pragmatic and intolerant. The disagreements were constant, heated, and sometimes public enough to turn heads and the other council members to end up disappointed and helpless.

It went on like that for years. Though the day it all fell apart will forever live in the cracks of your mind. Guilt never dulls no matter how much distance you put between them and yourself.

It was a supply run. Something that’s been routine by now. A scavenging mission into hostile territory, dangerous but necessary. Food was running low, medicine almost gone.

You were walking through the woods - a sector closer to dead zone, but Bucky and you were both fueled by anger at the other’s stubbornness to pay attention to the little group of people you took with you. They were good at ignoring your bickering.

“We do it my way. Slow, methodical. We’re not losing anyone because of some reckless stunt.” His tone was flat. Final.

“I’ve never put anyone in danger, Bucky,” you defended with fire in your voice.

Bucky’s voice was hard. “You charge in without thinking, every single time-”

“Yes, and I always do that alone, Barnes. Don’t you think I know the risks? I wouldn’t ask anyone to-”

“Damn it, Y/n,” he cut off, voice sharp. “It’s bad enough that you do it-”

“If we only ever go slow, people will starve. We can’t afford to waste time, Barnes. You want to lose them sitting on your hands instead of taking a risk? That’s on you, not on me.”

Bucky talked lower then, harshly.“That’s not taking a risk, Y/n! That’s fucking suicide.”

The actual mistake was in the silence that followed. No compromise, no meeting of minds. Just the brittle quiet that stretched between you both and the tension that lingered even over the other group members walking with you.

Bucky’s jaw was tight, his steps heavy. Yours were no lighter.

It happened fast. As it always did. One moment, the woods were still, only the crunch of the leaves underfoot and a few insects in bushes and trees surrounding you.

The next, groans split the air, coming from every direction - shadows lurking between trees, their figures misshapen, their eyes empty.

There were too many of them. That was clear from the first breath, but you didn’t have time to process it, to count.

You shouted for the group to move, to break toward the clearing just ahead and they started rushing away until Bucky’s voice rose behind you. His commanding tone seethed in your veins.

“No! Fall back - circle to the ridge!”

But the clearing was closer. The clearing was safer.

So you said as much.

But that’s all the hesitation it took for the dead to gather closer. Close enough.

You lost precious time, precious ground. The damage had already been done.

Two people didn’t make it. Two lives, lost in the spaces between your choices.

The argument that followed was like nothing before. No banter. Not bickering. It was an unfiltered and ugly thing, charged by your guilt and his. Words were thrown, accusations hurled. It was awful.

And when the shouting stopped, there was nothing but silence. Thick. Unbearable.

Neither of you could let go of your anger, your grief, your pride long enough to see that you’d both failed them.

That day something shattered in your connection. Whatever that had been. The tension that always accompanied your relationship. It felt corrosive. Wrong.

And that’s when you made the decision. The decision to leave, that now led you to come back again.

Will he resent you? That thought is a blade that has turned itself dull from too much use, yet it still cuts at you in ways you can’t dodge.

You imagine him standing there, arms crossed, his face as unreadable as it would be stoic, staring at you with the fire that always burned behind his eyes.

Will he even let you step inside? Or will his anger boil over and turn you away, pushing you back into the wilderness you barely even escaped from?

Will he relish in your brokenness, in the way life has stripped you down to your very bones? Will he find satisfaction in seeing you this fragile, this vulnerable, clinging to scraps of pride as your body barely holds itself together? The image of his piercing gaze, not softened by time or mercy, sends a shiver down your spine.

But it also just might be your body starting to give out, you realize when more shivers whack your form.

You push on.

And you wonder. Could there maybe also be relief in those eyes, hidden behind the mask he always wears so well. Relief that you’re still alive, that whatever dark roads you’ve walked since haven’t claimed you completely.

Or would that relief be poisoned by something bitter - the satisfaction not of your survival, but of seeing you humbled, seeing you brought low enough to crawl back to him, back to the home you lied to yourself you were fine living without.

You picture his face shifting. A flicker of something softer crossing his features before he buries it deep. Will it pain him to see the bruises painted across your skin, the blood that’s long since dried on your hands and clothes, the tremble in your limbs while you stand before him like a ghost returned from the grave?

Will he turn you away, disgusted not by your injuries but by the weakness they represent?

You wonder if he’d speak at all. Silence, from him, could be worse than anger. After all, anger means caring. You don’t get angry if you don’t care.

So, perhaps you will be left to fill the empty space with your many regrets and guilty feelings.

Maybe he won’t even look at you. Don’t throw you a single glance, his gaze fixed somewhere distant.

But your conscience can’t help but imagine things.

Because what if he’d feel something he wouldn’t dare admit, not even to himself. That the faintest pull of relief isn’t for the pain you’re in, not for the way life has broken you, but that it is for the simple fact that you’re here, alive, breathing. Maybe that relief would be buried under layers of what he’d felt for you all those years. But it would be there.

Honestly, you don’t think you will ever get an answer to any of those questions. Because you feel your mind start to drift too much. As if the images in your head start to turn into dreams and your body is luring you into sleep to live them out.

You’re giving up.

And you are still not close enough to your old and now only sanctuary despite walking and dragging your frail form for hours and miles on end.

Your head is spinning, images and voices now blurred and upside down and all wrong.

Not even noticing you stopped dragging yourself forward, you start to lean the whole weight of your body against a nearby tree.

The bark is rough against your skin, scraping through fabric, digging into bruises, and tearing them raw. It should hurt. You know it should hurt, but it barely even registers anymore. It’s just another sensation - one more thing slipping away.

Your eyelids droop. They feel so heavy. The forest is shapeless around you, just a mess of color and shadow.

Your breaths come shallow and uneven, lungs forgetting to do their job. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you know this is it. This is where you’ll stop, where you’ll finally collapse and leave it all behind.

And the thought somehow isn’t as terrifying anymore. There’s a strange, unfamiliar peace blooming in your chest. You think about how your body would lie here, half-curled in the dirt, skin pale and bloodied, eyes forever closed.

Bucky might find you.

One day he might stumble upon your corpse on the ground. Maybe he’ll kneel beside your lifeless form, the frown on his face deepening, lips pressing into a grim line. Maybe he’ll tell you that he was right. That you were reckless and should have listened. Maybe his voice will tremble just a little.

The bickering you shared will follow you even into death.

The thought makes you want to laugh, but your body is too far gone for that. It’s barely your body anymore. It’s a shell of nothing. The world tilts, spins, then tilts again. You feel yourself begin to let go.

You won’t wake up. Not this time. And somehow, that’s okay. The peace blossoms brighter in your chest, warm and soft, as if the weight of the world is finally lifting.

You lost everything you had. And not even just today. You lost it two years ago when you decided it was the best to leave your home.

Your eyes slip shut and you don’t try to press them back open again. Your body is slumping to the ground, bark scraping against you, the ground rushing closer. The cold earth is pressed against your face. Your breath falters and slows.

Your body feels dead by now but your mind still blinks with awareness. And funnily enough, it can’t seem to let go of Bucky. His sharp face. His strong voice, the cadence of it so deeply carved into your memory that it echoes so clearly as if he were sitting right beside you.

“Y/n!”

“Shit, Y/n!”

It calls your name. The sound so urgent and frantic, it pulls you back for a fleeting second, though you are sure none of your muscles even twitch.

You are actually impressed with yourself. His voice sounds so real, so vivid. How is your mind able to conjure something so precise on the verge of unraveling completely? It’s him, down to the inflection, the roughness, the bite.

But you know it isn’t really him. That wouldn’t make any sense. Your mind is exaggerating. You’ve blown the image of him out of proportion, dressed him in a panic he wouldn’t wear for you, not for this.

If he found you like this - broken, slumped, slipping away - perhaps his voice wouldn’t even crack.

The day you said your goodbyes, Bucky wasn’t even there with the others. He wasn’t there when you hugged Sam, his arms lingering around you. Not when Steve couldn’t evoke a smile that wasn’t tight or sad. Not when Wanda touched your cheek with shaking fingers, her tearful eyes searching you for a reason to make you stay and telling you you’d always be welcome to come back home. Not when Natasha ordered you, not to get yourself killed out there, what was a little too late now.

You didn’t really expect him to come. Actually, it was better this way, you had thought. Cleaner. No last harsh words, no heated standoff, no last-minute chance for him to dig deep again.

Some stubborn, foolish part of you had hoped of course.

But that was when you saw him as you made your way to the gates.

He stood at the edge of the grounds you were about to leave behind, hidden in the shadows of bushes and trees. His arms were crossed over his chest, his figure rigid, his face set in stone.

You willed not to let your heart clench, but it did. You told yourself he was just there for a final gloat, some grim satisfaction in watching you go. In seeing you lose.

But his eyes held yours. So unwavering and intense. It burned through you. His features were dark, but also, he did stand covered in shadows. However, there was no smirk, no triumph, no venomous parting shot.

But he didn’t move. He didn’t step forward, didn’t say a single thing. He didn’t do anything but hold your gaze as if daring you to be the one to break it.

And you did.

You had a new life to attend to.

And you didn’t look back when leaving.

Still, you felt the burn of his eyes on you, so much more intense than ever before.

You guessed he dropped that stoic, seemingly unhappy mask the moment you were out of sight. Maybe he even threw a silent celebration, relieved to finally be free of you, of the friction you brought into his life.

But the small annoying voice in the back of your mind whispered something else. Something that actually made you consider turning back around before you got ahold of yourself again.

It told you that maybe his expression had stayed dark long after you were gone. That maybe his gaze lingered on the empty path where you’d disappeared. That maybe his arms stayed crossed, not to shield himself from the cold but to stop himself from reaching out.

And your brain now doesn’t seem to have any doubts either because you might actually feel hands shaking you, gripping your face. There weren’t many times when you came in contact with Bucky’s hands, and only fleeting and unintentional, so you don’t know if your conscience got the feeling of his hands on you right but you relish it anyway.

You hope he’d worry. You hope so much. Why, you don’t even know. It’s not like it matters anymore. But you need him to worry.

You need him to feel something sharp, something visceral. You need the cracks in his stoic armor to show and your name on his lips to sound like a prayer instead of a reprimand.

“Stay with me, Y/n! Come on!” It’s a snarl and a plea at the same time.

His voice is pulling you back - or maybe it’s pulling you under. You can’t really tell the difference. It is the kind of sound that is too rough to be tender, too desperate to be cruel.

His voice gnaws at something in your awareness, steering something deep in your bones.

Hell, your dying brain is doing a hella good job.

The world shifts again. Or maybe it’s you who shifts. The sharp bark of the tree is gone suddenly, as though the earth has abandoned you. Or perhaps your body just lost any kind of sensation, because there is nothing solid beneath you anymore. The ground is gone.

Free fall grips your stomach for a second, and panic sparks weakly in the recesses of your mind. But before the fear can take root, you feel something else. Something warm.

Not the feverish heat that’s been chewing at your skin for hours. Not the sticky warmth of blood still drying against your ribs.

No, this is something different. Hard, but not unkind. Solid, but not unforgiving. It presses against your body, and for the first time in what feels like days, it doesn’t hurt.

You don’t know what is happening. You only know you want more of it. Tilting your head as best as it would go, you lean into it as much as your useless limbs allow, seeking that warmth like it’s the only thing keeping you from succumbing to nothingness.

And then the pieces click together.

You’re being carried.

There is an arm under your legs, another braced firmly around your back. The grip is strong but it is trembling faintly against you.

You are cradled against something warm, something alive. And there is a pounding against your ear that is way too rapid to seem healthy.

None of this makes sense, not really, but the sensation of movement - the sway and jolt of steps, hurried but careful - tells you that you’re not imagining this.

Someone has you. Someone’s carrying you.

Your battered mind, of course, latches onto Bucky again.

Your brain shapes the thought of him so effortlessly. Some part of you knew it could only ever be him. You picture his face, sharp and shadowed, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark and heavy with something you don’t dare name.

“Damn it, stay with me! Stay awake!”

Is this him saying that? Or is this your mind still indulging in the vivid fantasies from before? Perhaps this wasn’t your mind all along. Perhaps all of this wasn’t a fantasy of your brain. This was him.

You feel the tight hold with which he is gripping you, how it feels less like he is carrying you and more like he’s keeping you from slipping away entirely.

It doesn’t seem like the Bucky you knew. The one who looked at you with barely concealed irritation, who argued with you until you were both red-faced and seething.

But then again, maybe it does. Maybe this is the same man, stripped bare of all his armor, his stoic resolve fractured like you had imagined. Maybe this is what he looks like when he doesn’t have time to mask the cracks.

The thought makes your chest ache. Or maybe that’s just your ribs - stabbed, bruised, barely functional. You can’t tell anymore.

You want to open your eyes, to confirm what you already know, but your eyelids are heavy, unwilling.

You want to reach for him, to feel with your hands that his worry really is your reality and not all in your head, but your arms hang limply at your sides. Useless.

But your face is pressed against his shoulder. The speeding throbbing of what you assume to be his heart is still in your ear and it makes this so much more real.

“Don’t you dare die on me now, Y/n! Not after this.” His ragged words send swaying currents through the still waters of your fading consciousness. “Not like that! Not after I’ve been looking for you for two damn years!”

Wait.

What?

The words ring like a bell, too loud, too pronounced. You feel yourself struggling with comprehending the meaning of this but the shock still rushes up your spine.

Bucky was looking for you. He didn’t celebrate your departure. He came after you.

You left two years ago. Bucky started searching for you two years ago.

“I should’ve stopped you. Fuck, I should have stopped you. I never should’ve let you leave.” His voice is a single crack. So much remorse seeping into his tone, it even latches onto your chest.

“God I’m so sorry I let you leave. I’m so sorry for everything, Y/n! There’s so much I gotta tell you. So much I gotta make right. So you don’t get to do this, alright? You don’t get to die on me!”

His voice doesn’t sound like him at all. The Bucky you remember used measured words, calculated, controlled. Doubt again creeps in that this really is real and not just your mind all up in shambles. Because there is so much pain in his voice. Pain you never saw inflicted in anything he did. Or said. Not to you at least.

Your body jolts in his grip, caused by his hands. He might have tried to shake some life back into you but his hands don’t stop shaking. They are trembling so heavily, as if he’s terrified you’re going to slip through his grasp at any second. As if you’re going to die in his arms. Maybe you will.

“You’re staying with me, you hear me?” he continues, low voice filled with gravel, so wild and anguished. “There’s so much I need to tell you. So much I need to say. But I can’t-” his voice gives out and you basically hear him trying to hold himself together. His breaths are uneven and broken. “I can’t do it like this. No, not like that. So you gotta pull through. You can’t leave me before I get the chance to tell you. Can’t die on me now that I’ve finally fucking found you. You can’t, Y/n! Please! Stay with me. Just stay.”

You try to open your eyes. Try to let your fingers twitch. Try to open your mouth. But there’s nothing.

You can’t tell him that you’re trying. You can’t tell him that you want to hear what he has to say. Can’t tell him that you’re clinging to his every word. Can’t tell him that you’re fading away.

Only a broken exhale slips through.

His arms tighten, pulling you impossibly closer.

He’s pushing himself. His muscles strain and coil, his body still trembles against you. His voice is breathless and full of despair..

“Stay awake! Look at me. Just- please open your eyes. Just for a second. I need to see them. Need to know you’re still in there, okay?” His words are torn, pulled apart, and put together in a desperate attempt. Tears fill his voice. “You always had to prove me wrong, so do it again. Fight. Fight, Y/n! Please!”

Bucky makes it sound like it could actually be easy. But unfortunately, it’s not. His voice is more distant now. Perhaps it’s giving out. Perhaps it’s the hope that leaves him, taking his voice.

Yet, you’re trying to hold onto it. You’re trying so much.

If he says more, you don’t catch it. You don’t catch anything anymore. You think you might be okay with that. Because even if this isn’t real - even if this is all just a fever dream conjured by a dying mind - you think it’s a good way to go.

Sheltered in warmth. In motion. In the arms of the one person you never thought would come for you.

[the-superoriginal]

Dead people walking

Summary: The Apocalypse is hard and brutal. Actual people are as fearful as the undead. Yet they also can be the best that can happen to you.

Warning: platonic!survivor!bucky, survivor!genderneutral!reader, slight horror and angst 'cause apocalypse, zombies, canon level violence and gore

A/N: October. Halloween. This oneshot is for that time. Or any time you want actually.

English is not my native language!

You threw the halfway filled backpack through the small window and it hits the grass with a 'thud'. Instantly you strain your ears, trying to hear if one of the undead comes. But it's silent. Eerily silent even. Not a dog or cat or even a bird to hear. Two years ago that wouldn't have been the case. It would have been chaotic. Because two years ago the world was still fine. Normal. Everyone had been busy with chatting, travelling or simply existing.

But nobody was fighting for their lives, to simply survive from minute to minute. Not like this at least.

You squeezed yourself through the window, making sure you don't cut yourself on the broken glass. Blood would attract the walking corpses after all. And you couldn't have that of course. You landed on your feet beside your backpack nearly inaudible, sighing quietly out.

Snap.

Your head instantly jerks to the side and your eyes widened in panic as you hit the ground a second later. The air is knocked out of your lungs, but you hadn't the time to be stunned as the undead alright tries to bite you. His skin leather-like as it meets yours and one of his eyeballs were missing while his breath hits you. He stunk of dead and fresh blood.

Your rose one limp that was protected by a arm protector to try to get him off of you, but he was surprisingly strong. He is freshly turned and has just eaten. That wasn't good. Not at all. It meant there were a lot others not too far off. The undead were often in huge herds. That was one of the first things the world had learned. His nails scratched your skin suddenly and you clenched your jaw. It was fine. As long as he didn't bite you, that is.

That would turn you within in one day. Two if you had 'luck'. First the bite wound would just simply swell, then change colour to a sickly brown before a few hours afterwards the fever would hit. Senses would become sensitive to everything. And at least the first and last behaviour change would be there; aggressiveness. The end of the human and beginning of the undead. You had witnessed it often enough.

And you didn't wanted to be that. A dead corpse walking. Just a mindless shell. Slowly and painfully overwritten by a freaking virus.

And maybe eating someone alive that was dear to you. The screams off such scenarios still lingering in your dreams.

Or, which was arguably, the worser... infecting them too.

Suddenly a baseball bat hits the undead and he falls to the side. You didn't see much, because as the thing tries to move towards you again the source of protection had already moved over you away and started to hit it on the head. Over and over again.

You allowed your eyes to flicker up for just a second as you moved away, putting a safe distance between the undead and yourself. Bucky.

You had meet the man that was mostly known as the white wolf a few months ago. It wasn't a surprising nickname, you had learned that much during your first meeting already. He had hit you with the same baseball bat that he used right now, not sure if you were a undead or not.

That meeting had lead to a friendship and saving each other's lifes more times that you could count. Like right now.

The turned's other eyeball was oozed out through Bucky's quick, strong hits by now, the skull splitt open that you could see the brain come out. And just now your friend stopped. "You okay?" He asks worriedly and you only managed a nod before he already had hoisted your backpack on his free shoulder before grabbing you by your wrist and tugging you with him.

"Come on, we need to go. More are coming."

[captnvbarnes]

➼ 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑹’𝑺 𝑩𝑰𝑵𝑫 | (17+) 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

theme — mcu zombie au!

pairings — bucky barnes x fem!reader, steve rogers x fem!reader

warnings — graphic gore, language, angst, undead themes, apocalypse (twd inspired zombies), substance abuse, graphic violence, use of weaponry, cannibalism, slight fluff, smut, character deaths, forbidden love, slow burn, inspiration taken from twd universe

summary — the outbreak had happened as quick as the first bite. one, then two, then 1/3 of the population became 2/3’s. before any of the avengers could comprehend this threat, it overcame them with new york’s rising population becoming undead. bucky is your protector, not by choice but by chance he was there just in time to save you. you two flew the compound, leaving the life you knew. leaving your husband to rot. as you two grapple what this new world has become, everything became too much. the world depended on you guys to save them, but how could you save anyone now? and when the blood runs and the nights become colder, who will save you?

This story is best suited for a mature audience, so read at your own discretion.

➽────────────────────❥

PROLOUGE

OUTBREAK DAY

RUN AWAY

LEAVE IT

FIRST GLANCE

THIS IS HOME?

ATHEN

TRIGGER BANG BANG

ASSISTANCE

CAMP HELLFIRE

SINNERS

MAROON SKY

STRAYING

I CAN’T GO ON WITHOUT YOU

GHOST IN THE WIND

A SHINY PEARL

WELCOME HOME

SAVOR THIS

IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE

RAPTURE

HOW ARE YOU GOING TO BREAK?

SAVE YOURSELF FOR SOMEONE ELSE

SALVATION

EPILOUGE

➽────────────────────❥

tag list <3

@buckystevelove @frombkjar

[wildglitch]

More ideas for the What if...Zombies Spidey X DC AU

I wanna expand from this a bit cause I thought of it the other day and it wont leave me alone 💀

Anyways, these are just some points I have decided to add to this AU starting with Peters background and what I think he went through. Since this is mostly Marvel stuff, you can even ignore the DC aspect of it

Buckle in cause its a long one

-The Zombie apocolyps started when Janet got back, and canonically, that was about a month before Bruce showed up. So we have a month to play with and get everyone together, but honestly, that too little time for me man. So Im changing the timeline so that everything started 7-8 months earlier. That gives our heros time to find eachother at diffrent times and overall really let Peter live in a full blown Zombie apocolyps

-Peter, totally spent like a full month and some alone. He was told by Tony to "stay put and help the little guys" and just never saw him again. Poor guy.

-All his friends and familly died within the first week. Some lasted a bit more then others but all of them ended up getting infected. So by the second week Peter had lost everyone he ever knew and loved

-Peter spent his month alone searching New York for survivers. He was so deaspreate to find people and protect his city that he would go days on end without sleeping or eating.

-In his attemps to find any living being, he made all of Queens and later the rest of New York into his web, so he could know whenever anyone got caught in it ( like how Andrew Spider-Man tracked the Lizard in his movie but way bigger) He also has help from all the surviving spiders helping him in his search

-Adding to that- his webs? Zombies dont like it. Peter upgraded the formula to make some that dont disintigrate, but Its not that it hurts them, they just avoid it. he thinks they can tell they shouldnt touch them.

-A month alone has gotten Peter to see things. Thing he wishes no other person has to ever whitness ("Holy fucking shit the rats got infected!")

- Peter made himself a guide for this like in Zombieland. Rule 7. Dont go into the sewars

- Peter killed 9 Zombies in his time alone and he hated it

-We could either do "Bucky arrives to the webbed New York and finds feral spider child who attacts him cause Peter hasent sleeped in many days and hes scared shitless of the first human he finds" or " Hope is informed by the others that they havent gone into New York cause something is guarding it. But when she enters to investigate, insted of finding some eldrict Zombie horror, she finds a small scared teen in his web that just wants a hug from a matrnal figure" pick your favorite, (it could also possibly be both tbh)

-Momma Wasp > Mother Potts (Im sorry but its true 😔, the content dosent lie)

-Peter was one of the last if not the last person to join the group before the episode happend and when he saw all of the people that were there, insted of being sad of how few they were, he cried tears of pure joy over the fact he wasnt the last person alive

-Peter Hugged happy and he didnt get pushed away :)

- Peter hasent showerd in weeks Parker: Im so happy Im not alone!

The adults, who havent had as nearly as bad as a time as Peter: Have you meet soap????

- Peter had already made the base we see in the episode long before the others arrived. He had hoped it would be one of many safe houses for the survivers he would find, but that quickly become a broken dream. He was so happy to be able to use it, and no ones had the heart to reject his base even though they had their conserns about the saftey of it. (the base never once fell due to Peters care)

- Peter was super deppressed even though he tried to hid it, so Kurt, being the only semi-normal person there, told Peter to make videos for future survivers they find. And thus, his guide become digital!

-I like to think the group had like 4 or 5 more people at the begining, but over the course of the months, they ended up dying and getting infected before the episode.

Possible characters could be:

Matt Murdock: survived cause he could tell when someone got turned (he's canon now so it counts lol)

Any of the Barton kids: They where pretty isolated, so maybe we could have one of them survive and be rescuede by a S.H.E.I.L.D agent and end up with the group (+2 angst points for losing their sibilngs)

Jack Lockly: And only him. The rest of the group see this random cabie surviver wondering "how tf?", while in reality, he was minding his own business at the back of the mind and is now forced to front 24/7 cause they are in constant danger with the Zombies and he has no idea what to do. (The others are not responding, he has a big ass bird yelling at him, and he has no clue what to do with the body or how to fully take care of it)

Darcy Lewis: She was in her 2 broke girls era when shit hit the fan and now she's here

Kamala Khan: *Looks into boxs grandma brough during visit* *takes bangle while running from Zombie* *Puts it on* *Survives* *Suprised Pikachu face*

You could posibly add other characters you like, but dont forget that these guys have to die by the time the episode rolls around so keep that in mind

-adding to that last to point:

1.Matt and Peter became close and would go on suplie runs together. Matt trained Peter a bit, and Peter would acompany Matt to church. Not cause he has too, but because he wants to be there with him. Something happend and Matt sacrificed himself to save Peter. Achevment Unlocked: The Sensei always dies

2.Peter, Becomes friends with the other Surviving kids: *Insert happy spider*

His friends end up dying: *insert depressed boi*

3. Pete: Sooooooo

Jake: ?

Peter:... Have you ever had to deal with this old Dominican lady named miss Sanches that lives between 7th and 8th?

Jake: Thats really racist, yk that

Peter: OH! No- I just

Jake deals with horibble passengers Lockly: But Yes! jfc she was the worst!

Peter deals with the little people Parker: RIGHT!?

4. Darcy Lewis: *determend to save this poor kids love life*

Peter fought his dates dad Parker: Boy do I have some bad news for you

5. And saddest one: Whenever one of them died, Peter would take their belongings and burn all but one thing a keep it on him to remember them by. I'll let you sit with that

Remember, That up there is in the gray bettween canon an non-canon. I'll let you guys pick.

-Hope became a mother figure to him. We always have the "Oh so and so is his dad" or "Hes totally *Insert characters* son"- NO! HE IS A MAMAS BOY! Look at Him! That boy was raised by a woman, to respect women and Im teird of people ignoring it! (Lmao)

He bonds with her over science, their experiences with super heroing, bugs, and their want to save those who they have lost. When she found him, he was so teird that he mistaked her for his aunt May and cried into her arms. they dont talk about it much, but Hope put in the effort so that he dosent have to do to many hard things.

-You ever seen any of the marvel cast interveiws? ya, thats Peter and Buckys relationship just more in character. sure, dose Bucky see a bit of Steve in Peter? Sure, but not enough to stop him from throwing that lil' shit to the wolfs (Zombies) . Remember how in another post I mentioned how Peter would be thrown out the window? Ok, now imagien them having to be roommates because of how the base is set up (Every one must share a bus with another).

Peter may have lived with the others. But Bucky was his Roommate, and they both know shit you can only learn by sharing a room. Its a constant game of blackmail and horror.

-Happy's additude twords Peter turns from Homecomming to Far from home In this time.

-Every Holiday was celebrated.

-And Finally, Every death hit much harder due to all of them being much closer

Do I have more? Yes. Is this post way too long? Most definetly. Do I regret it? Kinda, but its fine. Will I make another post focusing more on the crossover side of things? Of most definetly and that is a threat.

But for now, I give you Zombie! Peter AU "Content". (Not the comic, but thw What If episode) (Can you telling I'm having fun with this AU?)

[buckrecs]

heyyy !!! can i get multiple recs for bucky x reader but it's set during an apocalypse :P

Apocalypse AU

masterlist | req masterlist

Awake My Soul by @foreverindreamlandd

It's been five years since zombies first started walking the Earth, destroying anything and everything in their wake. Now, in this apocalyptic world, fighting for survival comes as naturally as breathing. The one thing you've learned ever since they arrived, though, is that the living can be so much more dangerous than the undead. When you stumble across two young, scared boys lost in the woods and being chased by walkers, you go against your better judgment and help them to safety. Little did you know that helping them would lead you to Bucky - an angry, grumpy, distrusting member of the camp Shield. Bucky has zero interest in having you enter his life. He's been hurt before and lost too many people to risk experiencing that kind of pain again, and he knows that there are secrets you aren't telling the group. Yet, when push comes to shove, and you're put at risk, he'll stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Long Enough by @urvenicebtch

living in a tent with him was risky from the start, but you never expected tonight to be the night.

Time (D)rift by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

The end has come and gone as you keep waiting for your own.

It’s A Cruel World by @revengingbarnes

In the destroyed post apocalyptic world, the reader saves a group from getting eaten alive by the undead. In turn, they offer her to join them. She would have said no, but the blue, trusting eyes of a certain brunette were too hard to resist.

Imagine by @vanderlustwords

reader gets bit and they either must find a cure quickly or accept what they have to do.

[questionableratatouille00]

Wԋαƚ Iϝ Iƚ’ʂ Uʂ?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Summary: After an incident involving the Quantum Realm brings forth the Zombie Apocalypse, you are forced to comprise a team of survivors to reach Wakanda, the only human sanctuary left. But is the apocalypse really a great time to develop feelings for a Super Soldier?

Warnings: Themes of death, hurt/comfort, angst. Side/main character death?? (Not Bucky or Reader) Fire, violence. Let me know if I need to tag anything else!

Note: This very loosely follows the relative idea of the What If..? episode. Thank you to @buckylattes for sending me this idea!

---------------------------------------------

“This is day forty-nine since the apocalypse started. And Bucky and I may be the last survivors in the United States.”

-------------

The sound of the leaves crunching under your feet filled the warm and crisp air as you trudged through the forest. Occasionally, a gentle breeze would blow through the air, which felt quite nice in comparison to the autumn warmth.

"So..Steve and Tony got in some kind of fight?" Bruce stuttered out, breaking the silence.

"Yep." You confirmed.

"And..the Avengers broke up? Like One Direction?"

"Yep."

“And then got back together?”

“Uh-huh.”

"And there are zombies now?"

"Seems like it." You sighed.

“And the Avengers are zombies, too?”

“Dr. Banner.” Okoye chided.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just—y’know, it’s—“

“Weird?” Peter Parker guessed, smiling softly. “Yeah. We know.”

You frowned at the kid’s statement. You, Bucky, and Peter were the only Avengers on Earth to not be affected. Or at least, to your knowledge.

“Go find the kid. We’re..we’re gonna need all the help we can get.” Tony had mumbled to you. Steve nodded, pursing his lips. 

“I’ll call Kate and Yelena,” Clint said, looking at Natasha. Wanda grasped Vision’s hand, looking up at him anxiously.

“Anyone know how to get in touch with Thor?” Steve looked up from his feet, arms crossed.

“That’s a negative, Captain Rogers.” Vision’s voice was smooth and neutral. “Mr. Odinson does not have a communication device to contact us.”

You gave Bucky’s right shoulder a friendly and comforting squeeze before you walked out of the room. You knew Peter’s address, you’d visited his apartment before with Tony. 

Before you knew it, Earth was basically gone. That was over a month ago. You’d quickly found fellow survivors and made somewhat of a team with them. Peter, Bucky, Okoye, some guy named Kurt, Sharon Carter, you, and John Walker. And now, Bruce Banner.

“We need to find a base,” Bucky said, just loud enough to be heard.

“Sergeant Barnes is correct.” Okoye agreed. “Nightfall is approaching.”

“Pete, where’s that camera thingy you recorded your video on?” You asked, looking back at him. He’d made a little movie on how to survive the apocalypse soon after you’d saved him from the hoard of zombies outside of his apartment. It was a cute video, though the circumstances weren’t exactly great, or even good. It would’ve made a good school project, though.

Part of it was about hygiene, and Bucky starred in that section, albeit unwillingly. Bucky hadn’t said anything, but you could see the discomfort on his face when Peter showed you all the finished product. Bucky had been in the shower, rotated in a way where you luckily couldn’t see anything. He’d been ambushed by Peter and Kurt, the latter being lifted off the ground by his own neck, which had Bucky’s metal fingers wrapped around it. In private, Bucky had hinted that he was uncomfortable with the clip, and you’d gone to talk to Peter about it without saying anything.

You’d explained to him that ambushing anybody, but especially a Super Soldier—particularly a traumatized one who also happened to be a veteran—in the shower was not cool. Peter had apologized profusely, going back and removing the clip. You’d asked him not to say anything to Bucky, knowing that Bucky wouldn’t have wanted attention to be brought to it.

You could tell by the way Bucky’s eyes flicked to you when Peter showed the clip to Bruce that he’d noticed.

“Oh—uh—here.” He said, pulling the small camera from a pocket before tossing it to you. You caught it with ease. The apocalypse was no place for a lack of hand-eye coordination. You tucked it in the front pocket of your backpack.

“Won’t that thing run out of battery?” Bruce questioned, and you chuckled. “No. Peter and Stark made it a while back. It runs on an extremely tiny arc reactor. I’ve been keeping logs of every day—sometimes twice a day—since two days after the apocalypse started. So..yeah.” Sometimes others would make them, but none were as detailed or formal as yours.

“Jesus Christ," Bruce mumbled out. "Oh. I just realized--I haven't properly met most of you. I'm Bruce." He stuttered, picking at his fingernails.

"John Walker, Captain America." The annoying blonde spoke up. You were surprised he hadn't already shoved that fact down Bruce's throat yet. Normally, he wouldn't shut his mouth.

"I'm sorry--what?" Bruce looked at you, brows furrowed, wanting to see if you were agreeing or not.

"Turns out the government really doesn't like their favorite child going against 117 countries. So they gave the title--and a non-vibranium dupe of the shield--to this asshole." You explained, rolling your eyes.

"Right.." Bruce processed. John looked like he was going to say something, before Bucky shot him a glare, silencing him.

"I'm Sharon Carter. Former SHIELD agent." Sharon introduced herself, and Bruce smiled at her. Peter, Okoye, Kurt, and even Bucky introduced themselves, but you mainly focused on choosing where to go.

For some reason, you ended up being the 'leader' of the group. Maybe it was because you found everybody, maybe it was because you were the one who'd been an official Avenger the longest.

"Where are we going?" Bruce questioned. He'd followed you and the rest of the group into the woods.

"Well, the end goal is Wakanda. Right now, we're somewhere in New York. Phones don't work, and we come across maps every so often. Unfortunately, it's not like people posted map-selling stands in the middle of forests. Public spaces aren't the best places to be anymore." You spun around to look at everyone, walking backward.

"Wakanda may be the last human sanctuary on Earth." Okoye filled him in. "Our force fields would prevent the..undead from ever reaching our people."

"You sure did pick an odd time to visit the States," Bruce noted.

"I swore an oath. My king disappeared along with the Avengers." She replied.

"Right." Bruce exhaled.

"There should be an old Avengers safehouse up ahead. We stayed there after that one mission in February last year." You nudged Bucky with your shoulder as he caught up to you. He nodded slightly, chewing on his bottom lip.

"You okay?" You lowered your voice, trying to at least make the conversation slightly private. He glanced at you, before giving you the smallest of shrugs.

"Come on, it should only be a little farther." You called over your shoulder, beginning to pick up the pace. The sun was going to set soon, and night was not a time to potentially fight zombies.

You breathed out a sigh of relief when you could finally see the safehouse in the distance. It was a cabin in the middle of the woods, which made it a great place to stay in an apocalypse, at least for a little while.

"There's two bedrooms, two bathrooms." You announced. You put the code into the tiny pad by the door, before stepping inside.

You let out a sigh as you set your backpack on the floor against the couch. Everyone else followed suit, John and Peter sitting on opposite ends of the old couch.

Deciding to raid the pantry and see what you had, you rubbed your hands on your face. You'd risked it and went to a grocery store a few days ago, all of you filling your bags with as many non-perishable food items as you could.

"Okay, there's peanut butter, canned corn, some dried fruit, rice, bottled water, some trail mix packs, and canned..pineapple." You listed off. "And then whatever we're carrying."

"You wanna go through it all?" Sharon asked, and you shrugged. "Not really. I'm fucking exhausted." You held your forehead in your hand, closing your eyes.

"I can do it if you want." She offered, and you nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Sharon. I'm going to shower." You told her, opening your eyes and lifting your head up.

"You should take one of the beds. No offense, but you look like you need it." She smiles slightly, and you groan. "Wow, thanks. And I'll be fine. One of you should take it."

"Y/n, take the damn bed. Share if you want. But you're sleeping in a bed tonight." She decides, and you're too tired to argue with her. You accept your defeat and sigh. "Fine."

"Wonderful. You and Bucky can share that room. Okoye and I will take the other one, and Peter can take the couch. Kurt, Bruce, and Walker will be fine on the carpet." She assured.

“How’s your leg?” She’d injured herself yesterday, falling from the roof of a one-story building.

“Hurts like a bitch, but I’ll be fine. And don’t try and distract me. Go shower.” She smiled at the end. It reminded you of Natasha, in a way. You missed Natasha dearly.

"Okay." You agreed finally, taking out any food you had in your bag before taking it to the bathroom with you. You had a few outfits, just enough for maybe three or four days, and then a pair of shorts and a tank top to sleep in. You could stretch that to a week and a half if you felt clean enough to not wash your clothes.

You showered quickly before getting dressed in your shorts and tank top, walking into a bedroom.

Bucky sat on the bed, messing with his dog tags. His hair was wet.

“How was your shower?” You attempted to strike up a conversation. He shrugged in response, clearly tired.

��Did Sharon finish seeing what food we have?”

“Yeah.” He bit his lip, looking down at his hands. “Do you think he’s alive?”

You nearly asked who ‘he’ was, but after a second you figured it out. “I..don’t know, Bucky. But Steve’s strong. You and I both know that.”

He nodded, but it was clear that he wasn’t convinced. You pulled back the covers of the bed, before laying down.

“C’mere.” You said, the only light in the room was the tiny lamp that barely worked. You made room for him in your arms. Though you and Bucky weren’t anything more than friends, you’d gotten used to sleeping like this. It helped a little, in more ways than one. It helped him with his nightmares, and it helped with your anxiety.

He rested his head against your chest, draping his right arm over you.

The two of you fell asleep like that, comfortable in each other’s embrace.

Until Bucky started mumbling something, waking you up. “What the hell..” You grumbled before you realized what was happening. Right before he started screaming himself awake, you shook him.

His eyes flew open and he gasped, gripping your shoulders tightly. You waited for him to realize that he was safe and that the ‘danger’ was gone. His eyes began to water, though he tried to blink away the tears.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re safe. Promise.” You reassured him. He let himself calm down, exhaling slowly.

“Good job. Do you..want to talk about it?”

He looked at you, unsure. “Not much to talk about.”

“I’ll always listen. You know that.”

“I wasn’t there for him.” He confessed, eyes watering again. “Steve. I didn’t..I couldn’t..” He reached for his face, wiping at his eyes.

“Bucky, none of that was your fault. None of this is your fault at all. You didn’t start the fucking apocalypse.” You began to rub soothing circles into his back.

“All I had to do was shoot.” He made eye contact with you. Your heart burned at the sight of his pink nose and teary eyes.

You didn’t really know what to say. In theory, you could say the perfect thing that comforts him immediately. But the truth is that whenever you’re actually in a situation like that, all of that stuff goes right out the window.

“Close your eyes. Okay? I know this stuff hurts, but you really do need rest.” Your mind went back to Natasha.

He nodded finally, closing his eyes. You did the same.

It was the smell of burning wood that woke you up.

You blinked yourself awake, eyes stinging from the smoke. You gasped, choking on air as you took in your surroundings. The room was on fire. You shook Bucky awake, and he took a second to register what was happening.

“Shit!” He exclaimed, kicking the blankets off the two of you.

Without thinking, he busted down the bedroom door, revealing the slightly less burning living room. Peter’s face was the first one you saw, and you raced to him. “We have to get out of here!” You screamed over the sound of rooms collapsing.

“There’s hordes of them out there!” He shouted back, clutching your arms.

“The Spider-Child is right!” Okoye called to you as she threw Sharon’s arm over her shoulder, supporting the blonde’s weight.

“Well, would you rather try and get out of here or would you like to burn to death?” John cut in. “I would rather not burn!” Kurt pointed out, and Bruce nodded beside him.

“Okay. Okay. Come on, we’re gonna bust through the side door. Are they surrounding the house?” You began to plan, though you were panicking on the inside.

“I don’t know. I only saw them from the front door.” Sharon wheezed.

“I hate those odds and I don’t think our chances are even decent, but there’s no other option. When I say go, race through that door!” You directed. Checking to make sure everybody was accounted for, you gave yourself a final nod of encouragement. John was able to get Sharon onto his back.

“Go!” You shrieked, making sure that you were the last one to bolt out.

“I see them!” Peter screamed.

“Doesn’t matter! Keep going!” Bucky commanded, but they were only getting closer.

The sound of something crashing against the forest floor made you gasp.

“They can knock trees over?!” Peter kept glancing over his shoulder.

“They are getting a bit close!” Kurt yelled out. You looked over your shoulder, seeing John struggling to run with Sharon on his back. You stopped, and when Bucky began to slow down to see why, you put your hand on his back, guiding him forward. “Go.” You told him, as you went to help John.

“You can’t carry me and I can’t run,” Sharon said darkly. “John, put me down.”

The crowds of zombies chasing you were only catching up.

“Sharon, we’re not leaving you.” Your voice raised in pitch, anxiety settling in.

“Sharon.” John panted. “Come on, we gotta keep going.” He tried to stabilize her, to keep her still against his back, but she managed to break his hold on her.

“Sharon—stop! Stop, Sharon, please!” You begged, your eyes watering up.

“I can’t lose another friend. Come on, don’t be like this.” John grabbed her wrist, but she pulled away.

“Take them all to Wakanda for me, okay?” She asked, giving you a soft smile.

“Sharon!” You cried out as John gripped your wrist, keeping you from chasing after her as she staggered into the horde of undead.

“We could’ve..that—she didn’t have to—“ You gasped, beginning to hyperventilate. “Yeah, I know, but we have to keep going.” John’s hand remained wrapped around your wrist. It felt too tight. It hurt.

“Let go of me.” You said as you sprinted with him.

“There’s only more of them!” Bruce stressed, and you wondered how he didn’t get whiplash from looking around between you all so fast.

“Go right!” Bucky took charge, and everyone obeyed. You kept pace with Bucky, knowing that he was running slower on purpose. The serum enhances his speed, so there was no reason he couldn’t have just bolted and gotten to safety. You admired his loyalty.

Everyone—minus you and Bucky—made it away from the main group of zombies before a large tree fell. It was burning. The only thing that you’d noticed was burning was the house.

“Zombie enhanced. Not good!” Bruce shouted.

“What do we do?” Peter tried to find a solution. You took a deep breath.

“Run!”

“What?” John, Okoye, Bruce, and Kurt all looked back at you and Bucky.

“We’ll find another way! We’ll find you!” Bucky agreed.

Peter shook his head, mouth opened slightly like he was about to protest. You hoped that this didn’t fuck him up too bad. He already had enough trauma.

“Come on!” Okoye filled in the role of ‘leader’. She was a general, after all. She was born for this.

You turned to Bucky, grabbing his arm and trying to find a way around the zombies. “Move! Move! Move!” Your voice went higher in pitch every time you said it. You wove through clusters of them, though you were still in your pajamas.

You ran through the woods, but it was still dark out. The moon was the only thing keeping you from not being able to see anything at all, and you were thankful.

“How fast can they go?” You shrieked as they began to pick up the pace.

“Y/n, go! I’ll hold them off!” Bucky began to slow down.

“What? No!”

“Just go!” He stopped suddenly, and you tumbled to the ground, trying to do the same.

“No! Not without you!” You howled, and he accepted his defeat, racing back towards you and grabbing you as you stood up.

Not without you. I love you.

Bucky and you ran through the dark woods, breathing heavily, palms sweating. You managed to trip over a tree root, pulling Bucky down with you. Just your luck, you managed to trip at the top of a hill, and you rolled down it with Bucky. Dirt and dead leaves crunched under you and scratched at your legs and arms, pine needles getting stuck in your hair and in Bucky’s.

“Fucking hell..” You groaned as you stopped rolling.

“This is not as pleasant as those fall candles said it would be.” Bucky breathed, and you laughed. You’d shown him some fall candles in a store you were raiding, one being Rolling in Leaves.

“Yeah. I agree.” You choked out.

“Come on, we gotta find..” He trailed off.

“They’re long gone, Buck. We’ll..just have to meet them in Wakanda.” You stood, helping him up.

“Don’t ever pull that shit again.” You said after a moment of walking. “What?” Bucky looked at you, not knowing what you were talking about. “That sacrifice bullshit.” You clarified. “Never fucking again.”

“Okay.” He said blankly.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.” He made direct eye contact with you as he said it.

“Good. We should find somewhere to stay for the night. I’m exhausted.”

The two of you walked for maybe an hour more or so before Bucky pointed something out in the distance. “There. Those are caves.”

You looked where he was pointing, and sure enough, they were caves.

Another hour later and you’d been able to sort through the bags and see what you had. Bucky had been smart and saved the bags from the fire.

“Why do you care? About..my life?” He broke the silence.

“Why would I not?” He shrugged in response. “Because you’re one of the only people I have left. And..I care about you, Bucky. A hell of a lot.”

“I care about you too.” He breathed, and it was clear he meant it. His gaze drifted down, towards your lips. He cleared his throat awkwardly, eyes shifting elsewhere.

“Bucky—“

“Kiss me.”

“I—what?”

“I want you..to kiss me.” The former Winter Soldier, one of the few Super Soldiers on the planet, wanted to kiss you. And who were you to say no? You felt the same way.

You leaned it at the same time, your lips against his, both of your hearts beating faster than they ever have before.

The kiss ended when you pressed your forehead to his. Bucky’s fingers tangled with yours, your knees pressed against his.

“If I have to be with anyone in this situation, I’m glad it’s you.” You whispered.

“Me too.”

“Wait a second. Can you check the front pocket of my bag and see if the little camera thing is in there?” You asked him, and he nodded, reaching over to open the front pocket of your backpack. He handed you the small device. Maybe it was weird to end a moment like that with asking for a camera, but you needed to be sure.

“Think it survived the fall?” He questioned.

“Let’s find out. If it does, maybe we can use the parts to make some kind of communication device. Maybe we can contact someone in Wakanda with it.” You pressed record. A small little light came on off the side of the camera, and you grinned. “It works.”

Now that you were recording, you realized that you might as well film your log.

“The safe house burned down. We got split up from the group. Sharon..Sharon’s gone.” You said grimly. “We have no contact with the rest of the group, and no way of knowing if they’re alive or not.” You spoke to the camera, eyes never really staying focused on one thing for more than a minute.

“This is day..forty-nine?” You glanced at Bucky, who was nodding. “Forty-nine. Day forty-nine since the apocalypse started. And Bucky and I may be the last survivors in the United States.”

[heydoaflip]

The Doctor and The Tracker | Helmut Zemo

Zombie Apocalypse AU!

Female Original Character ('Doc') x Helmut Zemo

Summary: When an unsettling discovery forces them to abandon their fragile refuge, Doc and her group face the grim reality of survival in a world that’s always closing in. As chaos erupts, one mistake pulls her away from her friends, leaving her to confront not just the undead but a haunting glimpse of something—or someone—that defies reason. Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, including gun use and combat with walkers. Themes of guilt, trauma, and survival in an apocalyptic setting. Intense suspense and danger, including close encounters with the undead. Brief mention of blood and injury (medical and combat-related). Word count: 11K

oo. the tracker

The fire station had seen better days. Faded red paint curled like brittle parchment, exposing the skeleton of weathered wood and rusted metal beneath. Inside, its transformation was equal parts ingenuity and desperation, the remnants of a structured world repurposed into a fragile refuge.

The main garage, once an echo chamber of sirens and hurried boots, now sat heavy with silence. Its emptiness was stark, a hollow reminder of what this place had been. The stretcher at its center, long past its prime, sagged under the weight of makeshift supplies: jars of scavenged ointments, antiseptic bottles clouded with age, and scissors dulled by overuse. Even the shelves around it seemed tired, their contents a precarious balance of necessity and neglect.

The air smelled of old smoke and mildew, with an undercurrent of something sharper—coppery, metallic. It clung to her skin, the way fear and exhaustion clung to their lives. Above, fractured sunlight trickled through a cracked skylight, streaking the dust-filled air with muted gold.

Doc perched on a battered crate, her back stiff with focus even as the weight of exhaustion tugged at her shoulders. Her fingers moved deftly over Bucky’s arm, her gloved hands carefully cleaning the wound’s edges. The jagged stump where his right arm had been was swollen but healing, though the angry redness still clinging to the skin told her the fight wasn’t over yet.

Her movements were steady, but her mind was far from calm. Every time she looked at the wound, she saw that day—his blood on her hands, her frantic breath as she tried to stop the bleeding, the way his voice, rough and broken, had told her to keep going. She had, of course. She had done what she could, and it hadn’t been enough.

"Keep it steady," she muttered, breaking the quiet but not the tension.

Bucky obeyed without complaint, his body still under her touch. His silence wasn’t unusual, but it carried a weight today that unsettled her. His blue eyes stared past her, distant and unseeing, as if retreating to a place she couldn’t reach.

The world outside had never felt so far away. The wind rattled the station’s loose window panes, a low, mournful sound that seeped into the cracks of her thoughts.

She hesitated, the cloth pausing mid-swipe as her gaze flicked to his face, "Still holding up?"

There was a pause, long enough for her words to feel like they were swallowed by the stillness of the room.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his tone clipped and unconvincing. He shifted slightly, the old chair groaning beneath him, before adding, “You don’t have to check it every day, Doc.”

The nickname made her grimace faintly, but she didn’t bother hiding it. They all called her that now, as if it was her real name. It wasn’t. It was just another thing she’d inherited from this broken world, like the ash-streaked sky and the hollow weight in her chest.

“You know exactly why I do,” she said, picking up the antiseptic with brisk, deliberate movements.

She dabbed at the wound, glancing at him as she worked. “You’re lucky to be alive, Bucky. You know that, right?”

The words hit harder than she’d meant them to, and for a moment, she regretted saying them at all.

The words hit harder than she’d intended, and for a moment, regret tugged at her. She wasn’t trying to chastise him.

He winced—not from the antiseptic, but from the weight of the truth she’d just dropped on him.

“You’ve got a hell of a bedside manner,” he muttered dryly.

A faint smile ghosted across her face, there and gone in an instant, “You want sugar-coating? Don’t avoid me when you’re in pain.”

Her eyes flicked to his face again, and she caught the tension in his jaw, the way his left hand flexed and unflexed against his knee. He was holding something back, but so was she.

“Fair,” he limited himself by saying, his expression forever stoic.

"I mean it, Bucky," she said, her voice softer now, the edges of irritation blunted by something gentler. She paused, searching for the right words but finding none, "What happened back there—"

"It wasn’t your fault," he cut in, sharp and sudden, the words slicing through her sentence.

Her hands stilled, the antiseptic-soaked cloth hovering above his skin. He still wasn’t looking at her, his gaze fixed somewhere far away, but there was something raw in his voice that made her chest tighten.

"You don’t know that," she murmured, her tone uncertain, almost fragile.

When he turned to her, his expression caught her off guard. His eyes were unflinching, filled with a heaviness that seemed to press against the walls of the room.

"I do," he said, his voice quieter now, weighted with conviction. "There’s nothing we could’ve done. And if I had to do it all again, I wouldn’t change a damn thing."

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was thick, filled with everything they wouldn’t say. The sound of wind rattling the station’s loose windows barely registered as she looked back at him, her hands falling limply into her lap.

“That’s a really stupid thing to say,” she pointed out, breaking the silence. Her tone wasn’t sharp, but it carried a weight that made Bucky glance at her. “You lost an arm, Bucky. How... How are you going to do what you do?”

The question lingered in the air, and she hated how it sounded. Not accusatory, not exactly, but laced with the kind of helpless worry she tried to keep hidden.

The wind outside scraped against the building, rattling loose window panes like an uninvited guest. Dust motes danced lazily in the fractured sunlight spilling through the cracked skylight above, their slow, aimless drift a stark contrast to the unease gnawing at her thoughts.

Bucky tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing as if weighing her words.

“What I do?” he echoed, his voice calm but edged with something unreadable.

She swallowed, her fingers brushing against the edge of the crate as though searching for stability.

“You know exactly what I mean,” she said, quieter now, “You’re the one who keeps us safe out there. You hunt. You cover us when things go south. You’ve always been the one we can count on, and now...”

Her voice trailed off, the words catching in her throat.

And now I’ve ruined that.

The thought scraped against her, raw and unrelenting. She wanted to say it out loud, to scream it, but the weight of everything held her silent.

Instead, she looked away, her gaze drifting to the jagged streaks of gold on the floor, cast by the fractured skylight above. The light flickered slightly as a breeze stirred the dust, and for a moment, it felt like the walls were closing in.

The fire station was quiet—too quiet. The kind of quiet that left room for the wrong thoughts to creep in.

“And now you’re wondering how the hell I’m gonna manage without two hands,” Bucky said, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, almost resigned, as if he’d already resigned himself to this being his reality.

Her head snapped back toward him, her brows knitting together.

“No,” she said firmly, though not unkindly, “I’m wondering how the hell you’re going to manage when you refuse to take even five minutes to let yourself heal.”

To let me help you. It was the least she could do and, yet, he avoided her like the plague.

He leaned back in the chair, the old wood groaning faintly under his weight. The corners of his mouth quirked into a wry smile, but it didn’t touch his eyes.

“I’ll figure it out,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“That doesn’t bring me any comfort,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her eyes lingered on the jagged edges of his stump, the angry redness that still clung to the skin. She could still hear the sound of that day—flesh tearing, his gritted groans of pain, and her own frantic breath as she’d scrambled to stop the bleeding. The memory was vivid, each detail burned into her mind: the sickening warmth of his blood soaking her hands, the metallic tang in the air, the way her fingers had trembled as she worked.

She’d told herself it was just adrenaline, the urgency of the moment forcing her body to keep moving. But deep down, she knew the truth. She’d been terrified. Not just for him, but for all of them. Bucky had been their anchor—the one who kept them moving, kept them alive when the world outside tried to swallow them whole. Without him, what were they supposed to do?

Her chest tightened, her breath catching for a moment as her gaze drifted to the floor.

“You’re not invincible, Bucky,” she said, quieter now, her voice cracking just slightly. “I don’t know what I’d do if...”

The words hung in her throat, too heavy to say aloud. She shook her head as if the gesture could physically push the thought away, her hands brushing against the crate as though searching for something solid to hold on to.

“If what?” he asked, his voice softer now, though his stubbornness still lingered at the edges.

“If we lost you,” she finished, the words barely audible, fragile in the quiet of the room.

Her gaze flicked back to him, and for a moment, she hesitated. She wanted to leave it at that, but the truth pressed against her chest, demanding to be spoken. If I lost you.

Bucky had been one of her first friends in this fractured world, though “friend” hardly seemed strong enough for what he was to her. He’d been a constant, the steady presence she could lean on when everything else felt like it was crumbling. He was the one who didn’t flinch when things got bad, who carried the weight when the rest of them faltered.

He’d believed in her, even when she doubted herself. When she’d stumbled through those early days of survival—making mistakes, hesitating when she couldn’t afford to—he hadn’t judged her. He’d just been there, steady and unyielding, like a pillar holding up the sky. She couldn’t bear the thought of him crumbling now.

The room felt heavier after that. The air seemed to press in around her, thick with unspoken fears and unacknowledged truths.

“You’re not gonna lose me,” Bucky said after a moment. His voice was firm, steady, but his eyes betrayed him. There were cracks in the armor, faint but undeniable.

She wanted to believe him. She needed to believe him. But the image of that day was seared into her mind, playing on a loop she couldn’t stop. If she’d been faster, better, maybe it wouldn’t have come to this. Maybe—

The sudden rattle of loose window panes snapped her out of her thoughts, the sound jolting her like a splash of cold water.

She blinked, her hand gripping the edge of the crate as if anchoring herself back to the present. The fire station felt oppressively quiet again, the faint rustle of wind outside only serving to highlight the stillness within. Her gaze flicked toward the windows, the cracked glass reflecting fragmented streaks of light onto the walls.

“You’re not gonna lose me,” he said again, softer this time, as though he could sense her spiraling. “You need to let that go, Doc.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t respond right away. Letting go felt impossible. The weight of her own guilt was too familiar, too comfortable in a way she hated to admit.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. Letting go wasn’t something she knew how to do. The weight of her guilt was a constant companion, settling into the corners of her mind like the ever-present scent of old smoke and mildew clinging to the station’s walls.

Her eyes flicked toward the windows. The wind rattled the loose panes, a mournful sound that filled the gaps in their silence. Outside, the world was as lifeless as the space they now called home, its stillness punctuated by the occasional creak of the old building settling under the weight of its history.

“It’s not that easy,” she murmured, her voice so low it barely carried across the room.

Bucky didn’t respond immediately. His gaze dropped to the floor, the tension in his shoulders softening just enough to betray the exhaustion he carried. He flexed his left hand again—a restless, automatic motion that seemed to anchor him to the moment.

The silence stretched, punctuated by the faint scrape of her gloves against the crate as she adjusted her grip. She felt her thoughts start to spiral again, looping back to the same unanswerable questions. What if she’d been faster? What if she’d done something differently that day? What if—

“You heard anything yet?” Bucky’s voice broke through her thoughts, sharp but not unkind.

She blinked, the question catching her off guard. Her fingers tensed around the edge of the crate. “No,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.

The thought of them hadn’t left her since they’d disappeared into the gray haze of the horizon. Steve had insisted it would be quick—one day there, one day back—but now every tick of the clock felt like it chipped away at her hope.

She could still see the supplies they had packed: the last of their ointments, a crumpled map covered in faded marker, and the small stash of ammo they couldn’t afford to spare. It hadn’t been enough then, and it certainly wasn’t enough now. A hollow ache settled in her chest as her mind played through worst-case scenarios: bartered goods gone wrong, the fragility of trust snapping like brittle glass, or worse, the things that prowled the world outside. They’d been gone too long.

The shelves behind her seemed to loom, mocking her with their emptiness. Supplies for one week, two at most, if they stretched them to breaking. And now, they were the only things keeping her from sinking entirely into panic.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, and he leaned forward slightly, the chair creaking beneath him, “They should’ve been back by now,” he said, the words heavy with unspoken concern.

“I know.”

The words came out sharper than she intended, and guilt immediately twisted in her chest. She exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand across her face.

“I know,” she repeated, softer this time.

Her gaze wandered back to the windows. The cracked glass caught the light, scattering fragmented streaks of gold onto the walls. She followed the patterns absently, trying to focus on them instead of the sinking feeling in her gut.

“They said it’d only be a day,” Bucky said, his voice taut.

“Maybe something slowed them down,” she replied, though the words felt hollow even as she spoke them. Her gaze didn’t leave the window. “It doesn’t mean—”

“You don’t believe that,” he interrupted, his eyes cutting to hers.

She turned to face him fully, her jaw tightening. He was right. She didn’t believe it—not really. The knot in her stomach had been twisting tighter since last night, and the longer they went without word, the harder it became to keep her worry in check.

“They’re smart,” she said finally, as if saying it aloud would make it true, “Steve wouldn’t let anything happen to them. You know that.”

The thought of them hadn’t left her since they’d disappeared into the gray haze of the horizon.

Steve had insisted it would be quick—one day there, one day back—but now every tick of the clock felt like it chipped away at her hope. She could still see the supplies they had packed: the last of their ointments, a crumpled map covered in faded marker, and the small stash of ammo they couldn’t afford to spare. It hadn’t been enough then, and it certainly wasn’t enough now.

A hollow ache settled in her chest as her mind played through worst-case scenarios: bartered goods gone wrong, the fragility of trust snapping like brittle glass, or worse, the things that prowled the world outside. They’d been gone too long. The shelves behind her seemed to loom, mocking her with their emptiness.

Supplies for one week, two at most, if they stretched them to breaking. And now, they were the only things keeping her from sinking entirely into panic.

“Steve’s smart, sure,” Bucky said, his voice hardening, “But those guys they were meeting—they’re not exactly known for playing fair.”

The traders weren’t strangers, but they weren’t friends either. Wanda’s voice echoed in her memory: calm, clinical, but sharp with unspoken warnings:

“They’ve got their own rules. Stick to the deal and walk away clean.”

Doc had wanted to ask more—who they were, what they wanted—but Vision’s grim expression had stopped her.

“We’ll be fine,” he’d said at the time, but she hadn’t missed the flicker of unease in his eyes.

Now, alone with her thoughts, she filled in the blanks they’d left open. Opportunists, Wanda had said once. People who traded in desperation. People who wouldn’t think twice about turning a deal sour if the odds tipped in their favor. The weight of their silence felt heavier now, like a storm cloud pressing against her lungs.

She didn’t know them, but she knew enough: they were exactly the kind of people who survived this world. That didn’t comfort her.

“They’ve been reliable so far,” she said, though even to her own ears, the words sounded weak.

“Reliable until they’re not,” Bucky muttered, his voice dark.

The wind rattled the panes again, louder this time. She glanced at the window, half expecting to see something lurking beyond the fractured glass. Instead, there was only the empty horizon, streaked with the dull gray light of an overcast sky.

“They’ll be fine,” she said, forcing the words out. Her voice wavered just slightly.

Bucky didn’t respond. His gaze was distant again, fixed on a spot on the floor.

“If they’re not back by tonight...” he began, his voice quieter now, “We go after them.”

Her stomach tightened. The words hung in the air, heavy with possibility.

“Bucky—”

Her gaze flicked to him. His left hand flexed unconsciously against his knee. It wasn’t that he couldn’t fight—she’d seen him take down more than she cared to remember—but there was a rawness to the way he moved now. Like a violinist playing with a broken bow, every strike carried the faintest hesitation, every block an unsteady rhythm.

The fight outside the station—the way he’d faltered for half a second—still lingered in her mind. Would Natasha or Sam even agree with such a reckless idea? They’d urge patience, wouldn’t they? But patience wasn’t something she could feel at that moment.

“I mean it, Doc,” he said, cutting her off. His tone was firm, but there was a vulnerability beneath it that caught her off guard. “We can’t just sit here and wait. Not when we don’t know what’s happening.”

Her chest tightened. She wanted to argue, to tell him they needed to stay put and think things through, but the truth was, she felt the same. The thought of waiting much longer, of sitting here in the suffocating quiet while Steve, Wanda, and Vision were out there—somewhere—was unbearable.

She exhaled shakily, trying to steady the chaos in her mind. “Okay,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper, “But I’m going with you.”

Bucky’s head snapped toward her, his expression hardening instantly. “No, you’re not.”

His tone was like a brick wall, but she barely registered it. Her chest burned with a heavy mix of determination and dread, a feeling that had been clawing at her since the moment Steve, Wanda, and Vision had left.

“Don’t start,” she said, her voice sharp, “I’m not sitting here while you go out there alone.”

“I won't go alone,” he countered, his brow furrowing deeply as he leaned toward her. “Sam and Natasha will go with me, they’ll agree with me and interject to join me. They can handle themselves, as I myself, you don’t need to get involved.”

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“You can handle yourself?” she snapped, gesturing toward his left arm, “You’re still getting used to—”

“That doesn’t matter,” he interrupted sharply, his voice loud enough to make her flinch. His expression softened slightly, but his tone didn’t lose its edge, “I’ve been through worse. You know that.”

She knew he was right.

Doc had seen him withstand pain most people wouldn’t survive. But all she could think of was the way his body had sagged against her that day, blood spilling over her hands as she fought to keep him alive. Her breaths were shallow now, her pulse loud in her ears.

The sound of the walkers grunting from afar that day still haunted her nights.

Her mind drifted back—unbidden—to the first moments after the attack. Wanda’s screams had echoed in her ears long after the chaos had settled, a haunting soundtrack to her own failures. She could still feel the sticky warmth of Bucky’s blood as they’d tried, futilely, to stop the bleeding.

Every memory sharpened into a vivid, unbearable ache. She’d told herself over and over it hadn’t been her fault, but she didn’t believe it.

She blinked rapidly, trying to refocus.

“I can’t just sit here, Bucky,” she said, her voice trembling with frustration, “Not again. I didn’t do enough last time, and look where that got us. If something happens to them now, while I’m hiding here, I—”

“You’re not hiding,” Bucky said, his voice cutting through her words like steel, “You’re our doctor around here, we need you in one piece. They need you alive, we all do. Who else would keep Sam from trying to play hero when he’s hurt, or patch Natasha up when she refuses to admit she’s bleeding?”

Her lips twitched despite herself, but the moment passed too quickly, leaving behind only the gnawing weight in her chest. Her gaze dropped to the floor, shame coiling in her stomach. Surviving felt like an excuse. It felt like cowardice.

“You don’t understand,” she murmured.

“I do,” Bucky said, his voice calm and measured, though a flicker of pain crossed his features, “You think I don’t know what you’re feeling? That guilt? That weight? I carry it every damn day. But it doesn’t mean you throw yourself into the fire just to make it stop.”

Her breath hitched as his words struck a nerve, unearthing emotions she’d buried too deep to face. The images she’d been trying to suppress came rushing back again: Vision’s desperate attempts to shield Wanda, the way the chaos had swallowed them whole. She’d frozen at the worst moment, and she’d felt the cost of that mistake every day since.

Her shoulders sagged, the fight momentarily draining out of her.

“You’re asking me to stay behind and do nothing,” she said softly, her voice barely audible, “But I can’t, Bucky. I can’t stand the thought of—”

“Of what?” he pressed, stepping closer, his voice softer but still firm. “Of losing them? Of losing more people? You think I don’t feel that, too?”

She looked up at him sharply, her jaw tightening.

“I know you do,” she said, though the words felt thin and insubstantial. “That’s why I hope you understand me and let me go with you.”

“You think this is about permission?” he countered, his tone softening as his gaze fixed on her, “This isn’t about what you want, Doc. It’s about what we need. And what we need is for you to stop punishing yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.”

Her heart felt heavier, his words pulling her in two directions at once. She wanted to believe him, to let the truth settle into her bones, but her guilt sat heavier. Her mind spun, latching onto his words and twisting them.

The silence between them thickened, stretching into a chasm. Doc stared at the floor, her fingers twitching against her sides as her thoughts spiraled again.

She could still hear Steve’s voice, low and steady as he’d assured her they’d be back by now. She could still see Wanda’s tentative smile, Vision’s quiet nod. If she stayed here and they didn’t come back, she wouldn’t just be failing them—she’d be failing herself.

“I have to do something,” she said, her voice trembling.

“And I have to stop you from getting yourself killed,” Bucky said, his voice softer now, but no less firm.

Her lips parted to respond, the fight still bubbling at the back of her throat, but before she could speak, the sound of hurried footsteps interrupted them.

“Hey!” Sam’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and urgent.

They both turned to see him standing in the doorway, his expression tight with unease.

“Something’s wrong,” he said, glancing between them, “You need to see this. Now.”

The chill outside hit harder than expected, the wind carrying with it the faint, sour scent of decay. The fire station loomed behind them, its once-vivid red paint peeling in ragged strips, exposing the weathered wood and rusting metal beneath. Around them, the forest stretched endlessly, its skeletal trees swaying against the gray horizon like brittle fingers reaching for the sky.

Sam moved ahead of them, his pace brisk but purposeful. His jacket flapped with each gust of wind, revealing a patched-up shoulder that spoke to a lifetime of survival in a world that didn’t allow for rest. His expression was sharp, his dark eyes flicking between the treetops and the undergrowth as if expecting danger to leap out at any moment.

Doc’s breath came quick and shallow, the cold air biting at her lungs. Her boots crunched against the frost-dusted ground, the sound far too loud in the eerie quiet. She struggled to suppress the rising dread, but her thoughts swirled with growing panic.

What was wrong?

Her stomach churned as memories of past close calls clawed their way to the surface—hands grasping at her ankles, lifeless eyes staring through her as she fought tooth and nail to escape. When the problem wasn’t walkers, it was about other survivors.

The last time they had to deal with survivors who weren’t at all good still didn’t bring her any good memories.

The forest around her suddenly felt too close, the looming trees pressing in, cutting off the faint light of the overcast sky.

Ahead of them, Natasha stood on a rocky outcrop that overlooked the clearing, her figure stark against the muted greens and browns of the forest. Her hair was tied back tightly, stray strands clinging to her face from the wind.

She didn’t glance back as they approached, her sharp eyes narrowing at the horizon. Her rifle was slung over her shoulder, but her hand rested on her sidearm, fingers twitching in restless anticipation.

Sam reached her first. “Tell me this isn’t what it looks like,” he said, his voice tight.

Natasha’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes locked on the horizon.

“They’re closer,” she said flatly. Her voice carried an edge of worry that Doc wasn’t used to hearing. “A lot closer.”

The words hit like a stone sinking in her chest. Doc stopped a few paces behind them, her hands instinctively gripping the straps of her satchel.

“Closer?” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper, “How close?”

Bucky stepped up beside Sam, his expression darkening as he scanned the treeline. “How close are we talking?” he asked, his voice low, measured.

Natasha exhaled slowly, the sound merging with the mournful rustling of the wind. “Close enough that we don’t have time to argue about it.”

Doc swallowed hard and turned her gaze to the treeline. At first, all she saw was the dense sprawl of trees swaying gently in the breeze. Then, movement.

Faint at first, almost imperceptible, but unmistakably unnatural. Figures staggered into view, their jerky, uneven steps disrupting the stillness. From this distance, they looked more like shadows than bodies, but the sound came next—low, guttural groans that seemed to rise from the earth itself.

Her breath caught in her throat. The walkers moved as if guided by some unseen force, their twisted forms weaving between the trees in eerie, disjointed patterns. They weren’t supposed to be here. They weren’t supposed to move like this.

“They were miles away,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “How are they already here?”

“They shouldn’t be,” Natasha replied tightly. “Two days ago, they were far enough out that we should’ve had at least a month.”

Doc’s heart raced as her thoughts spiraled. She’d studied the walkers enough to know their patterns, their sluggish movements and aimless wandering. These weren’t the same. Their pace was faster, their movements less random, almost purposeful. The idea sent a cold shiver down her spine.

“Unless they’re tracking us,” Bucky muttered grimly.

The thought hit Doc like a punch to the gut. “Tracking us? How?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sam interjected, crossing his arms. His jaw tightened as he glanced at Natasha. “How long do we have?”

Natasha tore her gaze from the horizon to face them, her expression unreadable. “An hour,” she said, her voice clipped. “Maybe less.”

The wind picked up, howling through the rocky outcrop, carrying the walkers’ groans closer. Doc’s gaze drifted back to the treeline. She could see more of them now, their shapes growing clearer as they emerged from the forest’s shadows. Their bodies were twisted and broken, patches of skin hanging loosely from exposed muscle and bone. Some dragged limbs behind them, while others moved with an unnatural speed that made her stomach churn.

She forced herself to look away, but the sound lingered—wet, uneven footsteps against frost-covered earth, the grotesque symphony of broken jaws gnashing and guttural groans filling the air. They were closing in, a relentless tide of death that wouldn’t stop until it consumed everything in its path.

Her thoughts raced. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Walkers didn’t move like this. They didn’t track people, didn’t organize. It didn’t make sense, and yet here they were, defying every rule she thought she understood.

“They’re moving like they know where we are,” she thought, a sickening realization clawing at the edges of her mind, “How do you fight something that learns?”

Bucky’s voice cut through the rising panic.

“Grab what you can carry,” he said sharply, his tone brooking no argument. “We’re moving. Now.”

The fire station was alive with chaos as they scrambled to gather their supplies. The sound of boots thudding against the worn wooden floors mixed with the muffled groans of walkers approaching outside. Each noise felt magnified, echoing in her ears as though the world itself was narrowing to this single point. Doc’s hands moved quickly, shoving rolls of bandages and jars of antiseptic into her satchel.

The sharp tang of alcohol mingled with the musty scent of old wood and mildew, clinging to her as much as the panic settling deep in her chest. Every item she touched seemed heavier than the last, her mind warring between what to take and what to leave behind.

Her thoughts spiraled, racing between what she needed and what she could afford to leave behind. But with every passing second, the groans outside grew louder, closer. Every creak of the building, every gust of wind that rattled the windows, made her nerves tighten further, the pressure of the outside world pushing in.

“You don’t have time for all that!” Sam’s voice barked from the garage entrance, his figure a stark silhouette against the dim gray light filtering through the open door. Beyond him, the treeline loomed, dark and unyielding, like the open mouth of a beast waiting to swallow them whole, “Just grab what you can carry!”

“I am!” Doc snapped, though her hands lingered on a box of sutures, the decision to leave it behind weighing on her like a physical blow. Her eyes darted to the shelves around her, taking in the jars, gauze rolls, and scalpels she couldn’t carry. Every piece felt vital, irreplaceable.

She tried to convince herself it would be fine—they’d find more. They had to. But the knot in her stomach told her otherwise.

Bucky stormed in, his boots striking the floor with a force that matched the tension radiating from his frame.

“Doc, we’ve got to move. Now.” His voice was low, commanding, each word clipped with urgency. His left hand flexed and unflexed unconsciously, his rifle slung tightly across his back. The sharpness in his blue eyes cut through the chaos, locking onto hers, “We don’t have time for second-guessing.”

She hesitated, her gaze flicking to a jar of precious antibiotics on the shelf. The sight of it was like a knife twisting in her gut.

“I can’t just leave this,” she murmured, her hand already reaching for it.

“You have to,” Bucky growled, grabbing her arm before she could touch it. His grip was firm, his tone leaving no room for argument, “We can’t carry everything, and you need your rifle free.”

The air outside felt even colder than it had moments ago, as if the very atmosphere was shifting with the encroaching danger. The frost-covered ground crunched beneath their boots as they bolted toward the path leading to the observatory, the sound of each footstep echoing in her ears. The wind whipped through the trees, its mournful howl filling the silence between them, as though the forest itself was mourning the loss of whatever had once lived there.

Every gust of wind seemed to tear at her skin, biting through her clothes, and mingled with the groans of walkers closing in from behind.

The scent of decay was thick in the air, a sharp metallic tang that clung to the back of her throat, heavy with the promise of what was to come. Her pulse quickened with each passing step, her eyes scanning the darkness of the forest ahead.

Doc kept her rifle close, her fingers tight around the stock, as though its familiarity was the only thing holding her steady. Her satchel bounced against her side with every hurried step, the weight of it a constant reminder of the things she had left behind—things she hadn’t had the time or space to carry. It was like a physical ache, that bag slapping against her side as if mocking her failure to prepare.

The forest around them felt alive with unseen menace. The skeletal branches above creaked and groaned in the wind, their long limbs swaying ominously, casting shifting shadows that seemed to stretch and warp like living things. The sound of leaves rustling in the breeze was sharper than it should have been, the snap of a branch too loud, too distinct, almost like a warning.

Every crack of frost beneath their boots made her flinch, every movement of the trees felt as if it might be something lurking just out of sight. Her senses were heightened, but it wasn’t enough—her heart hammered in her chest, her mind a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts.

We’re not safe. We’re not safe enough.

Then it hit her—a sudden, wrenching realization that cut through the haze of panic swirling in her mind. Her hand flew to her neck, her fingers grazing empty skin. But it wasn’t the locket. It was the antibiotics. The vial.

The thought slammed into her like a physical blow, stealing the air from her lungs. She’d left it behind—the very vials she’d been using for Bucky’s wound, the only thing keeping his infection from spreading.

The weight of that hit her harder than anything else. Panic surged through her veins, cold and unrelenting, and in that moment, her legs refused to move. How could I have forgotten it?

Her thoughts spiraled as the image of the fire station came rushing back, vivid and cruel. The counter, the medical kit, the vial of antibiotics—she could picture it exactly as she’d left it. Set aside for Bucky’s wound, ready for the next treatment. And now, still there. Waiting.

She stopped mid-step, the forest around her stretching endlessly, a blur of skeletal branches and frost-covered ground. The others pressed forward, their movements purposeful, but her feet wouldn’t obey. Something inside her refused to let go of that single image: the vial, sitting untouched, just where she had left it.

Why didn’t she pack it?

The question flickered through her mind, unspoken but persistent. There had been no reason not to. She’d been careful, deliberate with every other piece of their supplies. Yet somehow, the most important one had slipped through. A faint pang twisted her gut, unwelcome but unavoidable. Her hands clenched, as if the motion could undo the moment entirely.

She glanced up at the others, their figures moving steadily ahead. They didn’t know. They couldn’t. Their focus was forward—on the path, on safety, on what came next. But her focus wouldn’t move. It remained tethered to the fire station, the counter, the vial.

Her gaze dropped back to the frozen ground. It wasn’t far. That thought lodged itself in her mind, stubborn and insistent. If she turned now—if she ran—she could make it. She knew the risks, felt them in every hollow groan carried on the wind, but even those seemed muted next to the quiet insistence pulling her back.

The wind stung her cheeks, a sharp reminder of the urgency around her, but it wasn’t enough to snap her forward. Her legs shifted almost unconsciously, her body responding to a decision her mind hadn’t yet admitted.

“Doc!” Bucky’s voice broke through the fog of her thoughts, sharp and tight. She flinched, looking up. He’d stopped further up the path, his frame outlined against the pale sky, “We have to move!”

Her pulse quickened. Her fingers twitched at her sides.

The right thing—the safe thing—was to keep going, to trust they had done all they could, that there would be another way. But safety wasn’t what came to her now. Instead, it was the memory of Bucky sitting still as she worked on his wound, the faint tension in his jaw as he’d pretended not to feel the pain. The antiseptic had burned, but he hadn’t flinched.

The vial. The infection.

“I forgot your antibiotics, I’ll catch up with you,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. She didn’t look at them as she spoke, and didn't need to see the disbelief in their eyes, “Go to the watchtower, we are in four, it will be safe for us there as the horde passes through the forest.”

“Doc, no!” Sam called, his voice urgent but tinged with frustration, “You’ll get yourself killed!”

“I’ll be fine,” she muttered, barely hearing them anymore. Her feet were already turning, moving instinctively toward the fire station, “I’ll catch up. I promise.”

“You’re not going back there!” Bucky shouted, his voice breaking with the strain. He took a step forward, as though he might physically stop her, but Doc shook her head, her pace quickening.

She didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Not now.

Doc ignored the voices calling her name as she turned back, her feet pounding against the frozen ground. The urgency in her chest pressed down with each step. She couldn’t afford to waste any more time. The wind bit at her face as the forest around her seemed to close in, but she pushed on, determination fueling her every move.

The fire station came into view, its weathered walls grim against the cold, the door hanging open. The sight made her heart race. She could already hear the sounds of groans and shuffling feet—too many walkers closing in. She had to get in, grab the antibiotics, and get out.

No more hesitation.

As she stepped through the door, a sickly warmth met her, the stench of decay heavy in the air. Her eyes scanned the room quickly. It wasn’t overrun yet, but it was far from empty. A couple of walkers had already made their way inside—slow-moving, disoriented, gnawing at the remnants of their last victim. Their blank, dead eyes fixed on the dark corners, not yet aware of her presence.

Doc’s fingers tightened around the hilt of her knife, the cold steel offering her a brief sense of comfort. She moved quickly but cautiously, trying to avoid drawing attention to herself. The counter where she had left the antibiotics was just ahead, a faint light shining from the open window above. The sight of it—small, but so important—sent a fleeting wave of relief through her chest.

But the sound of groaning grew louder, sharper, filling the air with a sense of urgency that clawed at her throat. She could hear more of them now—shuffling closer, entering the station. The door she had come through wasn’t far behind her, and the sickening realization hit her: they were pouring in. Not a flood yet, but enough. Too many to fight if it came down to it.

She had to be quick.

Her heart thudded in her ears as she reached the counter. Her fingers grazed the familiar bottle of antibiotics, its cool surface a reminder of everything riding on this moment. She grabbed it, slamming it into her bag with shaking hands. The small moment of victory was short-lived.

The first walker noticed her then, its head jerking toward her, eyes blank and hungry.

Doc didn’t hesitate. She spun, slashing her knife across its throat. The body crumpled without a sound, the stench of blood and rot hanging in the air. She didn’t stop to think, just pushed forward, moving toward the door, but as she passed through, she saw more of them stumbling inside.

The sound of their dragging feet filled the space, their moans growing louder as they converged from all directions.

The door she had come through was barely closed when the groaning reached a new intensity. She turned sharply, her pulse spiking as she saw more walkers entering through the open door, and in that moment, a flash of movement caught her eye.

At first, it seemed like just another walker. But the way it moved—so much more fluid, less disjointed—was unsettling. Its skin was torn, flesh barely clinging to the bones, but it had the posture of something alive. Something human. A fresh, human shape, now hidden beneath the decaying skin of a walker. Its eyes locked onto hers for a fraction of a second, and something in her froze.

Was it possible?

“Hey,” she tried not to shout, “Who the fuck are you? Get out of here!”

But the sound of her own voice—loud, desperate—only drew more attention. The walkers around her snapped toward the noise, their vacant stares now focused entirely on her. 

Her breathing quickened, the sound of her own heartbeat drowning out everything else. The walkers were converging now, their soulless groans blending into a grotesque harmony of hunger. The figure—the one that didn’t quite move like the others—had slipped from view, swallowed by the chaos. But its presence lingered in her mind, a sinister anomaly in a world that thrived on the bizarre.

Perhaps, she had imagined. She had imagined something that wasn’t there and would have to run faster because of such stupidity.

Doc’s grip tightened around her knife as she sidestepped a walker dragging its feet toward her. She didn’t pause. She couldn’t. Her fingers brushed the counter as she lunged forward, closing the distance to the vial. The cool glass met her palm, and she snatched it up, shoving it into her satchel. Her hands trembled as she secured the strap tightly across her chest.

There was no time to think. She turned, her boots scraping against the cracked floor, just as a walker lunged from her left. She ducked instinctively, its decayed fingers swiping through the air above her head. With a sharp jab, her blade found its mark, sinking deep into the side of its skull.

The body crumpled, but the noise of its fall only drew more attention.

She bolted for the door. More walkers were pouring in, the weight of their bodies pressing against the doorframe. Their groans echoed in the confined space, blending into a suffocating roar. One stumbled directly into her path, its teeth snapping at the air. Without slowing, she pivoted and slammed the heel of her boot into its knee, sending it toppling to the ground.

The cold wind hit her like a slap as she burst through the fire station door, the pale light of the outside world blinding her for a brief moment. She stumbled forward, her boots skidding on the frost-dusted ground, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. The moans behind her were growing louder, spilling into the open air with a guttural resonance that sent ice through her veins.

The treeline loomed ahead, a skeletal wall of gray and brown that swayed with the biting wind. It wasn’t safety—not really—but it was the only cover she had. Her legs burned with each step, the satchel bouncing heavily against her hip as she sprinted. The straps dug into her shoulder, the weight of the supplies inside a painful reminder of everything she’d risked to retrieve them.

Her breath tore through her lungs, harsh and ragged, pluming in short bursts against the icy air. Behind her, the cacophony of groans and dragging footsteps surged, echoing across the barren landscape. The sound clawed at her resolve, each guttural cry a reminder of how close they were. How close they always were.

She glanced back once—just once—and immediately regretted it. The walkers were pouring out of the station now, their twisted forms staggering into the open. Their flesh hung in tattered strips, their jaws slack but snapping hungrily at the air. Some crawled, their broken bodies dragging through the dirt, while others moved with a terrifying, jerky speed. Her stomach twisted at the sight, but she forced herself to look away.

Keep running. Don’t think. Just move.

The forest swallowed her whole as she plunged into the shadows of the trees, their brittle branches clawing at her jacket. The ground beneath her boots was uneven, littered with fallen twigs and patches of frost-slicked leaves that threatened to trip her with every hurried step. Her pulse thundered in her ears, louder even than the groans behind her, as though her body was trying to drown out the noise.

She pushed deeper into the forest, weaving through the skeletal trees with a frantic, unsteady rhythm. Every snap of a branch beneath her boots sounded deafening in the oppressive silence, and every rustle of leaves made her flinch, her mind conjuring images of walkers lurking just out of sight. The light filtering through the canopy was thin and pale, casting shifting shadows that danced and twisted in her peripheral vision like specters.

She stumbled, her boot catching on an exposed root, and barely managed to catch herself before hitting the ground. Her knee grazed the dirt, and a sharp pain shot up her leg, but she forced herself to keep moving. She didn’t have the luxury of stopping—not here, not now.

The terrain sloped upward as she neared the observatory, the incline forcing her legs to work harder with every step. Her breath came in shorter gasps, her muscles screaming in protest, but the sight of the tower ahead pushed her forward. It rose above the treetops like a crumbling monument to a world long gone, its once-pristine walls weathered and gray, the dome at its peak fractured but still intact.Her thoughts spiraled as she ran, the events of the day replaying in an endless loop. The fire station. The supplies. Her friends. She could still hear Steve’s voice, steady and reassuring as he’d promised they’d regroup at the observatory. "It’s high ground. Safe."

Safe. The word felt hollow now, meaningless against the reality of what she’d seen. If it was so safe, why weren’t they there? Where was Sam, Bucky and Natasha?

Looking around, Doc was sure: no one of them was there yet.

She reached the base of the tower, her chest heaving as she gripped the rusted railing of the staircase. The old metal groaned beneath her touch, the sound echoing in the stillness. For a moment, she hesitated, her gaze flicking back toward the forest. The faint sound of groans was still there, a low, distant hum that sent a shiver down her spine.

They were coming. Slowly but surely, they were coming.

Her boots clanged against the metal steps as she began to climb, each step a battle against the exhaustion threatening to drag her down. The staircase spiraled upward, the air growing colder and thinner with each turn. Dust swirled in the shafts of pale light filtering through the gaps in the tower’s walls, catching in her throat and making her cough. She gritted her teeth, forcing her legs to keep moving.

The top of the tower was just as she remembered it—wide, open, and eerily quiet. The observatory dome loomed above, its glass panels shattered and jagged, allowing the wind to whistle through unchecked. The room was empty, save for the remnants of equipment long abandoned: a rusting telescope lying on its side, a desk with drawers hanging open, and a scattering of papers so faded they were little more than fragments.

Doc’s eyes darted to every corner, every shadow, searching for any sign of her friends. But the room was still. Lifeless. She dropped the satchel onto the floor, her legs threatening to give out beneath her as the weight fell away.

She waited, standing in the center of the room as the silence pressed in. Her chest rose and fell with labored breaths, her mind racing with questions.

Why weren’t they here? Had something gone wrong? Had they even made it this far?

The questions circled in her mind, relentless and unanswerable. Her pulse hammered in her ears, and for a moment, she couldn’t tell if the sound was her heartbeat or the faint groans of the horde below. Her friends had been right there—right there—just minutes ago. She’d barely been apart from them long enough for anything to happen. They were ahead of her when she veered back toward the fire station. They had to be here. They had to.

She paced the room, her boots scuffing against the dusty floorboards. Every creak of the wood beneath her feet made her flinch, her nerves stretched thin. Her breath came in shallow bursts as she glanced toward the stairwell, half expecting to hear the echo of hurried footsteps or a voice calling her name. But there was nothing. Only the wind and the hollow groan of the old building settling under its own weight.

Minutes passed, though they felt more like hours. The emptiness of the observatory pressed down on her, heavy and suffocating, the quiet amplifying the chaotic churn of her thoughts. She moved toward the cracked window, her fingers brushing against the jagged frame as she peered outside.

Where were they? Had they been delayed by walkers? Overrun? Her mind spiraled, conjuring images she didn’t want to see: Sam cornered, Natasha until her last breath, Bucky shouting commands as he went down swinging... The scenarios played out like a cruel slideshow, each one worse than the last.

Her fingers clenched against the window frame, splinters digging into her palms. Her throat tightened, the raw ache of helplessness clawing its way up. She forced her gaze down to the clearing below, desperate for anything—a sign of movement, a clue, something.

She should’ve stayed with them. She shouldn’t have gone back for the supplies. She should’ve—

Something moved.

Her breath hitched as her gaze locked onto the clearing. At first, she thought it might have been the wind shifting the frost-covered grass, but then she saw it again—subtle, deliberate. A figure.

The person came into focus slowly, as though emerging from the haze of her scattered thoughts. They moved unevenly, their gait uneven but not aimless. One hand clutched at their side, where dark streaks of red stained their coat.

Blood.

Doc’s pulse quickened as her eyes followed their movements, taking in the bag slung over their shoulder, the way they adjusted its weight with a practiced efficiency.

Her grip on the window frame tightened. This wasn’t one of her friends, that was for sure.

She would have recognized their silhouette, their stride. But this person—whoever they were—didn’t stumble like a walker, nor did they panic like a survivor running for their life. There was something else in the way they moved. It wasn’t desperation.

It was...Calculation. Probably, he was a tracker of some kind.

She swallowed hard, her mind latching onto the details she could make out from this distance:

The bag. The blood. The deliberate, almost methodical way they navigated the clearing.

A flicker of unease sparked in her chest, followed quickly by something sharper. Anger, there was something wrong.

Her gaze dropped to the bag they carried. The stitching along its edges. The way it sagged, its contents shifting with each step. Her breath caught as realization dawned, slow and painful.

That’s ours.

Her mind snapped back to the fire station—the empty shelves, the supplies she’d fought to protect. The chaos of the walkers flooding the area. The pieces fell into place with a sharp finality that left her reeling. The strange figure she had a glimpse…

Her knees threatened to buckle, but she locked them in place, her hands shaking as they hovered near the rifle slung across her back.

This wasn’t some coincidence. This person—this stranger—had taken from her. From them. And now, they were walking away with what might have been theirs.

Her heart hammered in her chest, anger bubbling up beneath the exhaustion. She pulled the rifle from her back with trembling hands, her fingers curling around the cold metal as she raised it. Her breaths came quick and shallow, the weight of her own voice cutting through the stillness as she shouted.

“Hey!” The word ripped from her throat, raw and trembling, “Stop right there! I won’t hesitate to shoot you.”

The figure halted, their body eerily still despite the tension in her voice. Slowly, almost deliberately, they turned to face her. The movement was unnerving in its precision—not the panicked flinch of someone caught off guard, but the calm shift of someone who knew they held the upper hand.

The wind carried the faint, sickly scent of decay as the figure’s full form came into view. He wore a long coat, dark and heavy, its edges caked in mud and streaked with the dried, rust-colored smears of walker blood. The coat’s fabric hung unevenly over his lean frame, torn in places where crude patches of cloth and leather attempted to hold it together. His hands were bare, the knuckles split and red, as though they had seen far too much use against both the living and the dead.

But it was his face that gave Doc pause.

The sharp lines of his features were partially obscured by streaks of dirt and dried blood. A faint layer of stubble darkened his jawline, blending with the grime on his skin. His brown eyes were cold, unsettlingly sharp, and locked onto her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. A smear of blood—fresh—traced the edge of his brow, disappearing into his short, neatly cut brown hair, which somehow remained untouched by the chaos that covered the rest of him.

More disturbing was the way his coat and boots glistened in places, patches of gore clinging to them as if he had waded through the carnage of walkers, not just avoided them. Thin strands of flesh—barely noticeable but sickening once seen—clung to the seams of his coat. He had blended with the dead, hiding among them, a grotesque trick that made Doc’s stomach turn.

So, he was indeed who she had spotted back there.

Even from this distance, there was an air of control about him, a calm that didn’t belong in a world where survival demanded chaos and fear. It set her on edge.

“I said stop!” she barked again, her voice trembling with anger, but her finger steadied on the trigger.

The figure tilted his head slightly, the faintest hint of curiosity flickering across his otherwise impassive face. His gaze dropped briefly to the rifle aimed at his chest before returning to her, his posture shifting as though weighing his options.

He didn’t answer her.

The wind howled through the shattered panes above, the distant groans of walkers carried with it, growing closer. Doc’s chest heaved with shallow breaths as the silence stretched between them.

Her eyes darted to the bag slung over his shoulder.

“What’s in the bag?” she demanded, her voice rising to fill the silence, “And who the hell are you?”

The man’s lips twitched faintly, not quite a smile but the ghost of something that made her skin crawl. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder, his movements slow and deliberate, as though to show he wasn’t reaching for a weapon.

“Supplies,” he said at last, his tone low and measured. His accent—a faint trace of something Eastern European—added a layer of dissonance to the single word.

Doc’s jaw tightened.

“My supplies,” she shot back, her anger bubbling to the surface, “You stole them. You brought the horde down on us.”

The man’s pout deepened the unease curling in her chest. His shrug was almost dismissive, but it was cut short by a sharp flinch, his hand twitching toward the bloodied side of his coat. Doc’s gaze flicked to the dark stain spreading there, her mind registering more of the injury even as her anger refused to abate.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said evenly, his tone bordering on indifference.

Her grip on the rifle tightened, the cold metal grounding her in the face of his maddening calm.

“Don’t lie to me,” she snapped, her voice rising, “That bag—you got it from the fire station. It’s ours. You tore through our shelter and left us for dead.”

The slightest hint of amusement played across his face, though it was hard to tell if it was real or just part of the mask he seemed to wear so effortlessly.

“I did what was necessary,” he said, tilting his head slightly as he met her gaze. His tone was quiet, almost conversational, but it carried an undercurrent of steel, “You understand that, no? Survival demands... Adaptability.”

Adaptability my ass, Doc’s breath hitched as his words sank in. Stripping them of their supplies and drawing the horde straight to their door? That was adaptability?

In her world, that was called stealing.

“You put my friends in danger,” she spat, her voice trembling with barely restrained fury, “If they’re dead—”

“Then it is not because of me,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through hers like a blade.

The calm precision of his words made her falter. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t plead or defend himself. He simply stated it, as though it were fact.

Doc’s hands shook, the rifle trembling in her grip. Her mind raced, torn between the instinct to pull the trigger and the gnawing doubt creeping in at the edges of her anger. He wasn’t wrong. The walkers were coming, and they had been closing in even before she’d reached the fire station. But that didn’t absolve him. Not when her friends were still missing.

“And why shouldn’t I shoot you right now, you fucker?”

The man’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression sobering. He shifted slightly, his hand brushing against his wounded side as he straightened.

“Because,” he said, his tone measured, “we are both still standing here. If you shoot, it will only bring the horde's attention to us.”

Doc’s jaw clenched, her teeth grinding as the weight of his words pressed against her better judgment. He wasn’t pleading. He wasn’t begging for his life. He was stating facts, and that infuriated her even more.

Her finger hovered over the trigger, the weight of the rifle almost comforting in her hands. The logical part of her mind screamed at her to pull it—to end this before he had the chance to turn on her. But the sound of the groans in the distance, carried on the sharp winter wind, kept her grounded. He wasn’t wrong. One shot, and the horde would come straight for the tower. And with the way they were closing in, there wouldn’t be time to outrun them.

He tilted his head again, watching her with an infuriating calm, as though he could sense her internal struggle. His piercing blue-gray eyes were unflinching, almost clinical, like he was dissecting her every move.

“You are angry,” he said, his tone devoid of apology but filled with a maddening level of understanding, “That is fair. I would be too. But anger will not help you find your friends. It will not help you survive.”Doc let out a sharp, bitter laugh, the sound cracking against the tension like shattering glass.

“Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor,” she snapped, her voice trembling with the force of her frustration. “You stole from us. You put us in this position.”

“Perhaps,” he conceded with a faint nod, his voice still maddeningly even. “But I am not the reason your friends are not here. The world is cruel enough without your help in laying blame.”

Son of a bitch.

Her knuckles whitened around the rifle, her chest heaving as she fought to keep her emotions in check. The rational part of her mind screamed that every second spent talking to him was a second wasted. But the truth—raw and unforgiving—dug into her like a blade: how would she find Sam, Natasha and Bucky? She had no idea where they could have gone.

He must have noticed the slight falter in her stance because his voice softened, the sharp edge of his tone giving way to something almost persuasive.

“Think about it,” he continued, gesturing faintly to the dark stain spreading across his side. “You want to find your friends, right? I need help treating this, because I’m not a doctor myself.” He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in, “But I saw you back there taking those vials, you seem to know something or two about it. We can help each other. Or we can die here, arguing over what cannot be undone.”

Doc’s stomach churned, the truth of his words twisting like a knife in her gut.

She didn’t trust him. She couldn’t. But he was right.

Her friends could be anywhere, and the supplies she had weren’t enough to see her through on her own. Despite not trusting him, she wasn’t a tracker either, she had no clue how to find them.

Her voice was quieter when she spoke again, though it still carried the edge of her anger, “How do I know you won’t turn on me the second I patch you up?”

The flicker of a smirk tugged at his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I could have killed you already if that were my intention,” he said simply. “But I didn’t. That should count for something, no?”

He was referring back to the fire station, when she had found him. You didn’t because it would bring the attention of the walkers to you, she dared say it out loud.

However, she got a glimpse of a dagger clinged in him. He could have easily sneaked up on her and killed her right there.

Damn.

She didn’t respond, her glare burning into him as she weighed her options. He shifted slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at his injury. Despite his calm exterior, she could see the subtle signs of pain etched into his features—the tension in his jaw, the faint sheen of sweat on his brow.

“If you kill me,” he added, his voice dropping lower, “You lose your only ally in finding them. And if I die, well, that would be my problem, I guess.”

Doc’s lips parted, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but the sound of the horde cut through her thoughts like a warning. The groans were closer now, their low, guttural chorus blending with the distant rustle of movement through the trees.

Time was slipping through her fingers, and she knew it.

She let out a sharp breath, lowering the rifle slightly but keeping it trained on him.

“Fine,” she bit out, the word heavy with reluctant resolve, “But if you even think about double-crossing me—”

“I won’t,” he interrupted, his tone clipped but sincere, “I am a man of my word.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or scream at the audacity of his claim. A man of his word? He’d just admitted to stealing from her, to taking supplies that didn’t belong to him. But the alternative was clear. She could kill him, call the walkers down on herself, and hope to find her friends alone—or she could take the gamble.

Her hands shook as she pulled the satchel off her shoulder, the supplies inside rattling faintly.

“Climb,” she ordered, nodding toward the nearest flat surface—a weathered bench that looked as though it might collapse under his weight, “Quick, don’t worry about the wound, I will take care of it once you are up here.”

He complied without argument, though the effort was clearly taxing on him. His eyes narrowed briefly in pain as he shifted, but he moved with the grace of someone used to enduring hardship. As he climbed, his movements were slow, deliberate, clearly trying not to strain his injury further. The bench creaked under his weight, but it held, albeit barely.

“This doesn’t mean I trust you,” she muttered loudly enough for him to hear, her eyes still fixed on him.

“I would be disappointed if you did,” he replied instantly, the smirk never leaving his face. He was far too calm, too confident—something about that smugness made her blood run cold, but she couldn’t afford to focus on that now.

The wind howled through the shattered panes above them, the moans of the walkers growing louder with every passing second. The sound was unnerving, distant but unmistakably close. Her stomach churned as she tried to ignore the gnawing sense of urgency that gnawed at her from every direction.

This was a risk—a dangerous one—but it was a risk she had to take. For her friends. For herself.

She needed to find them. She needed to find Bucky. He and that injury... she couldn’t say for how long he would be okay without the antibiotics. And he couldn’t afford to wait much longer. His arm—his right arm—had been torn off, the injury severe. And without the proper care, it would only get worse.

Worse, she still had no idea where Steve, Wanda, and Vision were.

And as she wondered about all of that, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze on her, cold and calculating, as though he were already thinking five steps ahead.

Good for him, Doc thought with herself, because I always think ten steps ahead.

[moiravim]

The Sacrifice Chapter 1

Bucky Barnes x yn

Zombie Apocalypse au

Warnings: zombies, death (not yn or Bucky), weapons, mention of hydra, scary themes

875 words

@doingyourmom069 helped me write 💖💖

Only two years ago, the infection had started. It makes no sense that I'm one of the few people left alive.

There's not much to do other than walk around,hoping you'll find somewhere safe. Just in case I always have a weapon in hand.

I let out a gasp as I hear clanking footsteps somewhere near. I look around, searching for a lifeless creature, one we've been calling 'an infected'.

I see it in the corner of my eye. I sharply turn around to see it staring back at me. It quickly charges towards me. I run as fast as I can while creating a logical idea in my head.

I see a fence that most likely had belonged to an abandoned campsite. I jumped the fence and continued running, not realizing it had followed me inside.

Since when could zombies climb? It didn't matter because it was getting closer, and I was running out of time. I quickly pulled a long knife out and turned around, preparing to face the undead creature.

I stab it in the neck as it runs into me. Right when it's about to bite me, I hear loud gunshots. I look down at its lifeless body.

I quickly back away, turning around to seeing man my age staring back at me. He lets out an annoyed breath of air before shaking his head.

"Holy shit, thanks, man." I spoke, voice slightly trembling. In an attempt to catch my breathe I perch down. "Yeah sure, no problem. Were you bit?" He asks in a serious tone.

"No, I haven't been bit." I respond, sounding startled. I roll up my sleeves, showing him my arms to prove it. He seems to have believed it, so now I ask him a question. "Have you been bit?" My voice laced with suspicion.

"No if I was bit I wouldn't of saved your ass." He stated with annoyed eyes squinting slightly in the process.

After he finished taking the silence that took over was so awkward you feel yourself almost struggling to breathe, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Instead of letting the silence grow I choose to introduce myself. "So... I'm y/n, and you are...?" I look him in the eyes awaiting an answer. He responds "Bucky."

He dosent even attempt to smile so you figure you should at least attempt to crack a joke.He laughs loudly before returning back to his stotic self. I chuckle before asking "Have you eaten yet?" He responds "No I haven't, have you?" You answer "I haven't, let me cook dinner. I got some new supplies earlier today that I can use."

He goes to sit down on an awkward block of wood while I begin preparing the food. I pull out a gas burner and a soup pot I had recently found. Opening my backpack, I grabbed the grocery bag containing vegetables I had found just a few hours prior.

I had started making the broth last night, so now all I had to do was cook. I sit patiently, waiting for the food to finish. I turn my head to look at Bucky, preparing to ask him a question. "Can you look around the campground for some bowls? Maybe spoons?" I ask him slightly annoyed.

"Sure thing." He says in a ambitious tone. He walks away as I turn back around to continue cooking out food.

I hear the sound of someone stepping on leaves, I turn around to see him returning with a box filled with bowls, plates, and silverware. He helps pour the soup into each bowl before handing one to me. I grab a spoon, thanking him and then tasting the soup I prepared.

I begin attempting to spark up a conversation. "So... You've been traveling alone this whole time?" I curiously ask him.

"No. No, I haven't. Only for a month or so." He responded dismally. I nodded, showing sympathy for him. "What happened? If you don't mind me asking."

He looks at me with an annoyed face before responding, "My friends Sam, Steve, and I used to survive together. Sam... Sam's gone. Dead. After Sam's death, Steve and I had gotten separated."

I noticed tears starting to pour in his eyes so I decided to change the topic. "Me and my friend Natasha lived together when all of this started. We got separated, too..." He looks at me pitifully and rubs my shoulder, attempting to comfort me.

I slightly smile at him sadly, and he smiles back. "You can stay here for the night if you'd like." He offers.

"I'm leaving this site in the morning. You can choose to stay here or come with me." He adds before putting his finished bowl of soup down. I nodded, letting him know I heard and understood what he said.

When I finish eating, I begin to get ready for bed, laying down on my sleeping bag, I almost immediately feel a wave of exhaustion hit, practically passing out right when my head hits the sleeping bag.

A/N: This first chapter was sm fun to write 🤣🤣 I already have chapters 1-6 planned so expect more parts coming soon!!

[buckbuckbarnesstuff]

Okay so, I've read this a few times already and it keeps coming back to my mind. This story captivated me after reading a few paragraphs and I loved it till the end. I gotta be honest, I never watched the walking dead, but why would I if I could just read this lol. Thank you for your creativity and talent and sharing it with us through this amazing story!!

Awake My Soul • Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

WC: 78k (Complete)

Summary: It's been five years since zombies first started walking the Earth, destroying anything and everything in their wake. Now, in this apocalyptic world, fighting for survival comes as naturally as breathing. The one thing you've learned ever since they arrived, though, is that the living can be so much more dangerous than the undead. When you stumble across two young, scared boys lost in the woods and being chased by walkers, you go against your better judgment and help them to safety. Little did you know that helping them would lead you to Bucky - an angry, grumpy, distrusting member of the camp Shield. Bucky has zero interest in having you enter his life. He's been hurt before and lost too many people to risk experiencing that kind of pain again, and he knows that there are secrets you aren't telling the group. Yet, when push comes to shove, and you're put at risk, he'll stop at nothing to keep you safe.

Series Warnings: AaaaNGST, canon level violence, zombies, blood/gore, broken bones, scars, mentions of torture, lots of unaliving (think TWD lol), BUT...will still somehow have a happy ending because it's me :,)

Series Playlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

New chapters will be posted every week or so (I have fallen a little behind lol but am still actively working on this series so it will be finished). There will be a limited tag list, so please let me know if you would like to be added! Otherwise, you can follow my library blog @dreamlanddlibrary and turn on notifications to get updates when I post!

Gif by Malin 💖

Fun Stuff:

Moodboard by the fantastic treatbuckywkisses Fayth moodboards AMS tag

Divider by firefly-graphics

[sj-ficrecs]

fic rec 16!

SO! i haven’t been reading fic in a long time bc i’ve been reading books BUT, discovered this fic rec in my drafts from 2022 lol oops!

This is purely a fic rec blog, always reblogging fics I enjoy. usually Bucky x reader, sometimes Steve x reader, Chris Beck x reader, etc. So check out more I’ve reblogged on this page. :)

PREVIOUS FIC RECS HERE! // Q & A

Bucky x reader:

A Correspondence of Obligations by @pellucid-constellations prince!Bucky x princess!reader

“ Obedience, duty, pristine smiles—raised as the princess of an oppressive kingdom, you knew nothing else. Your father signed your life away at the ripe age of five, black ink bleeding into a contract between nations, fate cemented with the flick of a quill. So when the time came to fulfill the promises you were too young to make, you expected much of the same in the land of Brookshire. But Prince James had other plans, as did the enemies looming outside the castle walls.”

Sky Full of Song by @wkemeup pirate!Bucky x pirate/siren!reader

“Despite the bitter resentment of the crew, you found a home on Captain Barnes’ ship; on the ocean where you belonged, at the side of a captain you swore loyalty and heart to. But when course is plotted for a legendary island, the secret that has kept you alive for years is threatened to be revealed.”

Starting Gate by @navybrat817 motocross!Bucky x reader

“You attract the attention of your coworker's friend who just happens to be a handsome racer who plays for keeps.”

Oath by @softlybarnes (part of the Sugar series but can be reader alone) 40s Bucky x reader

“Bucky finally proposes to Y/N.”

Awake My Soul by @foreverindreamlandd​ Bucky x reader (Zombie apocalypse au)

“It’s been five years since zombies first started walking the Earth, destroying anything and everything in their wake. Now, in this apocalyptic world, fighting for survival comes as naturally as breathing. The one thing you’ve learned ever since they arrived, though, is that the living can be so much more dangerous than the undead. When you stumble across two young, scared boys lost in the woods and being chased by walkers, you go against your better judgment and help them to safety. Little did you know that helping them would lead you to Bucky - an angry, grumpy, distrusting member of the camp Shield. Bucky has zero interest in having you enter his life. He’s been hurt before and lost too many people to risk experiencing that kind of pain again, and he knows that there are secrets you aren’t telling the group. Yet, when push comes to shove, and you’re put at risk, he’ll stop at nothing to keep you safe.”

No Such Thing by @sanguineterrain college athlete!Bucky x reader

“You’ve been assigned to write a column for your school paper on the team’s spectacular running back. You don’t care very much for your university’s football team; you just can’t understand the hype, okay? Turns out your distaste for football bigheads was exactly on point: James Barnes is insufferable.”

Appointments by @buckycuddlebuddy Bucky x reader

“bucky barnes, finally being able to live freely in 21st century, accidentally gets a fuck buddy and starts to rediscover himself. the only weird thing about this situation is that you have to make an appointment to get railed by him.”

Recipe for Disaster by @seventven dad’s best friend!Bucky x reader

“your dad’s best friend bucky knows you have a crush on him. your parents invite him to join your family for the annual winter vacation”

In the Embers by @foreverindreamlandd Firefighter!Bucky x Fem!Plus Size!Adopted Rogers!Reader

“Bucky Barnes. The boy next door. Your brother’s best friend. The guy you’ve been in love with for as long as you can remember. Unrequited, that is, seeing that he only thinks of you as a sister (at least, that’s what you always thought). It’s been about a decade since you’ve returned home and reunited with the boy - now man - with stunning blue eyes and a smile that still puts a million butterflies in your stomach. You never expected to come back, thinking that you’d spend the rest of your life as a famous artist in Los Angeles with your boyfriend/manager. But things change, life gets messy, and now you’re back in your childhood bedroom living with your mom and working at the townie bar to make ends meet while you try to figure out what the hell to do next. The one thing that hasn’t changed? Bucky Barnes is still the boy next door, and there’s no running from him this time.”

Love in Four Acts by @chouettedubois neighbor MCU Bucky x nurse!reader

“You’re a nurse living in Brooklyn. You’ve got a crush on your next door neighbour who doesn’t seem to know you exist. One day his cat finds its way into your apartment, forcing you both to finally meet. That’s when you learn that he’s James Buchanan Barnes, ex-Winter Soldier. Well, there goes your chances. Or maybe getting close to a superhero isn’t as far-fetched as it sounds.”

Plaything part one + two by @captain-buckyyy virgin!Bucky x reader

“bucky’s innocence is just too much for you to resist”

calamitous love series by @classylo princess!reader x commoner!bucky

“Reader is a modern princess under immense pressure to marry before she takes the crown, she choose her Prince Charming four years ago… but he didn’t choose her back. He left her with a broken heart and her kingdom to rule alone. Four years later, reader is in an arranged engagement with a man who she can see herself loving… one day… everything seems to be falling into place until her original prince shows up at her engagement party determined to win her back before her wedding day.”

Not Even a Little by @intrepidacious roommate!Bucky x reader, modern au

“The problem of living with Bucky is that he makes it impossible not to fall in love with him. Even though you could list several hundred reasons why it’s a bad idea. And you have.”

Followed You by @cwbucky Bucky x reader

“You meet this guy named Bucky through Instagram. Even though neither of you knows what the other person looks like, you two immediately connect. Things get complicated when you start your new job at Stark Industries and you catch a glimpse of the handsome Sergeant Barnes.”

Matched by @nony-bear Alpha!Bucky x omega!reader

“Bucky Barnes always dreamed of settling down with a mate but after decades of trauma leaving him a grumpy old man with a robotic arm he’s convinced no one could love an alpha like him. Begrudgingly he follows his therapist advice and enrolls in the Swan Program a mate matching program offered but the new aged bio-tech company Mate-Tech”

Body Talk by @boxofbonesfic trainer!Bucky x plus size!reader

“You’re determined to come out of this breakup a better you, but Bucky likes the you you are.”

King in Your Story by @sinner-as-saint viking!Bucky x princess!reader

“Everyone in your father’s Kingdom knows that the Vikings often raid the castle’s warehouses. They take anything they want. Food, gold, weapons. Although they never seem to hurt your subjects. But you had had enough. Given your training, and your need to defend your Kingdom, your father agrees to let you trap the Vikings and bring them in for negotiation because this habit of theirs needs to be stopped. You hated the Vikings, and you thought you always would. Until the moment you met a pair of blue eyes which made your world stand still. Bucky was the Chief of his people; muscular, rough and tumble, and arrogant. Not to mention a shameless flirt, and he got on your nerves the most. But you knew it from the very day you laid eyes on his very handsome face that no matter how hard you tried, some part of you couldn’t fully hate him, nor resist him - even if he was the rival.”

Oh Baby, Oh Baby by @tooearlyforthis Bucky x reader

“As a new recruit, y/n isn’t allowed to go on all the missions yet. To make matters worse, they left behind another, someone that she had despised ever since she first stepped foot in the compound - James Buchanan Barnes.”

Before You by @m4tthewmurd0ck prince!Bucky x baker!reader

reader is a baker who happens to work at a shop the royals enjoy getting baked goods from :)

Steve Rogers x reader:

Rising Tide by @pellucid-constellations surfer!Steve x reader

“A relationship built up from the ocean floor, you and Steve had lifetime worth of memories—most best friends did. But things were beginning to change, unspoken feelings creating a rift that cast a shadow over the bond you called home. Unfortunately for you, rip currents are often hardest to spot in the dark”

[buckbuckbarnesstuff]

Completed Series

Get yourself a snack, enjoy these wonderful series and leave some love for the creative writers :)

♤ - includes sexual themes

Also, this gif has me in a chokehold

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Something domestic [50k] @fandoms-writings

ex-military amputee!Bucky x fem!Reader

Summary: Needing an escape from the loud and busy city life, Bucky comes to stay with you on your little farm. He didn’t expect you, a hardworking and beautiful woman with struggles of your own, to take his breath away and make life a little less dreary.

{personal comment: This is one of a kind and it got stuck in my head immediately. The way Bucky heals is beautifully written and I love how the animals of the farm got included}

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For the love of the game @pellucid-constellations ♤

College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it. 

{personal comment: I love the changes Bucky goes through and the way all the characters are portrayed. This story never fails to give me butterflies every time I come back to it}

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Undisclosed @pellucid-constellations ♤

Lumberjack!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either. 

{personal comment: The story is so creative and I got hooked on the few hints of the reader's backstory in the first parts and how it got revealed. Overall, it was a great mix of angst, fluff and Bucky in love}

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Scars @chickenfics

Bucky x reader Western AU

Summary: Running from a past that haunts you and a future that is unsure, the last thing you wanted was to take up with a stranger. Strangers, you'd learned, are almost always more trouble than they're worth. But when dangers from the life you're trying to leave behind get too close for comfort, drastic times call for drastic measures, and the stranger you'd once feared becomes the only person you can trust -- and perhaps the only person you'd call your friend. Now you both just have to make it out alive...

{personal comment: I'm a sucker for Western AU's and this piece of art satisfied me to no end. I love how naturally a connection bloomed between the two and the way they learned about each other. I would give so much for being able to read this for the first time again}

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A World of Our Own @shreddedparchment ♤

Bucky x Reader Castaway AU

Summary: You and a man named Bucky crash land on a deserted island. Can the two of you come together and make it until rescue comes? After you begin to fall for the mysterious Bucky Barnes, will you even want to be rescued?

{personal comment: I was astounded with the idea of this story and the creativity that came with it. It was lovely to read how Bucky and the reader grew closer over time and how they dealt with getting rescued and having to adjust to a 'normal' life on mainland again}

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Just One Kiss @sarahwroteathing

40s!Bucky x 40s!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes has been chasing after you since he was ten years old, but you’re determined not to give in. How long can you hold out when all he’s asking for is just one kiss?

{personal comment: This is such a lovely series. Bucky is a sweetheart and those letters were giving me all the feels. I loved all the characters and how they are written}

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Awake My Soul [78k] @foreverindreamlandd

Bucky x reader

Summary: It's been five years since zombies first started walking the Earth, destroying anything and everything in their wake. Now, in this apocalyptic world, fighting for survival comes as naturally as breathing. The one thing you've learned ever since they arrived, though, is that the living can be so much more dangerous than the undead. When you stumble across two young, scared boys lost in the woods and being chased by walkers, you go against your better judgment and help them to safety. Little did you know that helping them would lead you to Bucky - an angry, grumpy, distrusting member of the camp Shield. Bucky has zero interest in having you enter his life. He's been hurt before and lost too many people to risk experiencing that kind of pain again, and he knows that there are secrets you aren't telling the group. Yet, when push comes to shove, and you're put at risk, he'll stop at nothing to keep you safe.

{personal comment: The storyline of this series is so creative and I was hooked since the beginning. So much thought went into this and the background of the characters, and I'm beyond grateful I got to read this lovely piece of art}

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Burn The Witch @dreamwritesimagines ♤

Bucky x reader

Summary: The mission was simple; get closer to the Winter Soldier and start a relationship with him to get the necessary information for your superiors to use.

Everyone told you not to get your feelings involved. 

You should have listened.

{personal comment: I loved reading about how Bucky interacts with the two different personalities the reader portrays without knowing it’s the same person and how she switches between those two. The other characters are great as well and I really enjoy your writing style here]

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The Bienville @indyluckycharlie ♤

Modern!Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky is the young CEO of his family’s publishing house. A year into the role and working his ass off, he’s finally taking a much needed vacation (upon the advice of his well-meaning family and friends).

Solo and feeling a little lost, Bucky finds himself getting a little attached to the front desk receptionist, a local who grew up on the islands and dreams of bigger things.

{personal comment: I've read this a few times already and will definitely do it again. I loved how Bucky relaxed more and turned so charming, and how they built that connection so naturally. I felt everything I read and it was beautiful}

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Harmless @shurisneakers

Bucky x Villan!Reader

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with.

{personal comment: I had so much fun while reading this and it’s so damn creative. It was lovely to read how they grew closer over time and the many things they did for each other]

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Heart to a Gunfight [38.3k] @lailannajacobs

Modern!Bucky x reader

Summary: You didn’t want to help Bucky Barnes make it through the party by pretending to be his fake girlfriend, after all, you had just met him. You also didn’t plan on the charade lasting as long as it did. 

{personal comment: This is so lovely and I found myself grinning so much while reading this. But I also enjoyed the little angst in there and how they ended up together}

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Leave This Town @avengerofyourheart ♤

Mechanic!Bucky x reader

Summary: Your dreams of kissing your small town life goodbye are about to come true when an unexpected detour leaves you stranded. Meeting the handsome local mechanic has you rethinking your plans. Perhaps happiness is less about where you’re headed and more about the people you meet along the way.

{personal comment: I'm a sucker for Mechanic!Bucky and I really love this creative piece of art}

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Vacant Mirrors @whirlybirbs

Bucky x reader

Summary: Shit’s been rough. Shit was rough even before the blip. Dr. Hart shares an office with dr. Raynor, and you share a waiting room with Bucky Barnes.

{personal comment: I enjoyed this so much and went through so many emotions while reading it, feeling everything so vividly. This includs all I need of Bucky Barnes and I'm in love}

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The Two of Us [39.7k] @bucky-bucket-barnes ♤

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky go to investigate the phenomenon happening in Westview, New Jersey. While attempting to understand the issue, you yourselves are sucked into Wanda's world of pretend. Now, you believe yourselves to be the happily married Mr. and Mrs. Barnes; in real life, you are most definitely not a happy pair. It is up to you and Bucky to piece together what's happening while dealing with one another inside the hex.

{personal comment: We all love a good enemies to lovers and this was really exciting to read. It got me hooked so fast and I loved it till the end}

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Everything Backwards [35.2k] @buckybabybaby

Bucky x reader

Summary: When you make-out with a ‘James’ on a night out, you don’t expect to see him again, so imagine your surprise the next day when it turns out he’ll be your new sort-of-flat-mate. As Nanny for Peggy & Steve’s three children, you’ve hit the jackpot, but now the guy across the corridor is threatening to ruin it. 

{personal comment: I really loved how Bucky softened and the way they formed a connection. The interactions with the kids are lovely, I enjoyed this so much}

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Sky full of Song [65k] @wkemeup ♤

Pirate!Bucky x Pirate/Siren!Reader

Summary: Despite the bitter resentment of the crew, you found a home on Captain Barnes’ ship; on the ocean where you belonged, at the side of a captain you swore loyalty and heart to. But when course is plotted for a legendary island, the secret that has kept you alive for years is threatened to be revealed.

{personal comment: This series is amazing and the storyline has such a nice flow to it, that had me hooked so bad. Bucky's so respectful and protective and I read this so many times already, it might actually be sad. But I'm in love with this art}

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365 Days @abovethesmokestacks

Bucky x reader soulmate AU

Summary: "You all know how it is, the one constant in this hellish life: You have a soulmate. No idea who it is, no clues whatsoever, only 25 years to find them. In 364 days, my time’s up. It sounds like a lot, but so does 25 years, and look where that got me. So, for better or for worse, I’ll try. I’ve got twelve months to find whoever my soul is knit together with."

{personal comment: I didn’t think I'd be into solemate au's but this was really lovely. The small glimpses into the life of Bucky in between really piqued my interest}

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All Good Things @sagechanoafterdark

Ghost!Bucky x witch!Reader

Summary: After only three days of dealing with the annoying specter haunting you, you break the rules and accidently give a ghost a body. So what do you do when you find out the man you’re now sharing your your apartment with isn’t really a ghost and that haunted touch is a little warmer than you realized?

{personal comment: The concept of this story is so interesting and captivated me instantly. I had fun reading this and went through a lot of emotions throughout}

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Wild horses [22k] @whitewolfbumble

Biker!Bucky x reader

Summary: Kicked out of school and exiling yourself in a town time forgot, one little incident lands the sights of the locally infamous Avengers biker gang square on you. Wild horses run faster and there was no chance to turn back now. 

{personal comment: I'm smitten with this story, it’s so nice and I found myself relate to the reader so lany aspects. It’s some lovely work}

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The Thrill of the Hunt [12k] @rookthorne ♤

Scare Actor!Bucky x reader

Summary: Ancient game of cat and mouse, a fight for survival between a predator and their prey, wasn’t a new phenomenon — it had been practised for centuries and it was an art that very, very few perfected. For years you had chased the craving to find someone that had mastered the art of the hunt, and for Halloween, you had gone all out and visited a haven unlike any other.

It was there that you found your match. 

Cloaked in nothing but black and shrouded in a sense of lethality, you would have to run from this shadow in an adrenaline fuel haze unlike any other. A chase for the ages, the very one you desired. 

And if he caught you, your world would end as you knew it.

{personal comment: This is so thrilling and was really exciting to read. The switches between him as Bucky and then his character had me reeling}

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Want one? @hootyhoobuckaroo

Demon!Bucky x reader

Summary: The reader summons a demon by accidentally drawing an occult symbol in sandwich condiments. The demon, a strange yet oddly charming being by the name of Buchanan, begins to frequent her little apartment. It’s only a matter of time until she can make her way past his guarded exterior.

{personal comment: The story had an interesting concept, and I really liked it, it’s endearing}

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Drifting @real-jane

Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky saves the life of a woman when she's buried in an avalanche. Faced with the possibility that his cover might be blown, Bucky must keep the woman alive, and try to keep her from finding out who he is... or what he's done.

How long can he hide?

{personal comment: I don’t read a lot of fics written in the third person but this did me in and I had to try. Couldn't stop, the writing style is captivating and I was really invested}

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A dish served cold @artficlly

Outlaw!Bucky x reader

Summary: After the murder of your pa, you go on a journey to find justice. Fate brings you to Crimson Junction for a reason, and that reason is Bucky Barnes. 

{personal comment: This series got me so invested. I'm loving the captor/captive energy and although I do feel bad for Bucky, I am so grateful the reader doesn’t instantly fall in love with him and forget about the reason she tracked him down for in the first place. I got so excited when they talked about what happened and I'm thrilled to find out that there is going to be a sequel}

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Salt the earth @mallowswriting

Childhoodbestfriend!Bucky x reader (best friends to enemies to allies to lovers/Road trip AU)

Summary: Brock Rumlow is a slick, charming, wise-cracking businessman that you are lucky to have a claim to. Brock Rumlow is your fiance. brock rumlow is going to suffocate you. 

Brock Rumlow is going to be surprised when you disappear, nothing left behind but a note. But once you’ve gone through with steps 1-4 of your 5 step escape plan, you find out that the ‘friend’ nat told you to meet - the ‘friend’ who is going to drive you across the country to the utopia of safety that is new york - just had to be Bucky fucking Barnes. 

“If you’re so annoyed with the music, you can drive.” 

“You’d never let me drive this car.”

“Exactly. Now shut up.” 

{personal comment: Read all this in one go, just couldn't help myself. The way that connection forms again all throughout the bickering and heartfelt conversations and the way the backstory of them both is introduced is so captivating. This was a nice read}

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Something more @tellmealovestory ♤

bestfriend!Bucky x reader

Summary: After a bad breakup you ask your best friend to take your virginity. It’s just friends with benefits. What could possibly go wrong? Modern AU

{personal comment: Bucky is such a sweetheart, so soft and considerate, I'm so smitten and I really enjoyed the way the sexy times are written}

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That Summer @tellmealovestory ♤

Biker!Bucky x reader

Summary: You’ve spent every summer since you were a child in the idyllic beach town that you call home three months out of the year. This summer should be no different except for the addition of Bucky Barnes. Sparks fly upon first meeting, but it’s only a summer fling, right? Modern AU. 

{personal comment: This made me feel so warm, it’s beautiful. I love this relationship and how it’s portrayed}

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It’s a Deal @justreadingfics ♤

boytoy!Bucky x reader

Summary: You’re out of a relationship of 10 years and you’re just in desperate need to get laid, no strings attached, no romance, no complications. You dear friend Natasha feels like she’s going to regret this later, but she might have the perfect guy to fulfill your needs.  

{personal comment: I love fuckboy!Bucky falling in love and this was just what I needed}

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Relationship tutor @samingtonwilson ♤

College!Bucky x College!Reader

Summary: Bucky, a relationship novice, asks for your help in dating your friend. Unable to say no to him, you agree despite everyone and everything telling you not to.  

{personal comment: Another beautifully written series. I love the many friendships, especially the little interactions with Sam. And Bucky's a lovesick idiot, and I find myself craving that a lot, so that was perfect}

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No such thing @sanguineterrain

College!Bucky x College!Journalist!Reader

Summary: You’ve been assigned to write a column for your school paper on the team’s spectacular running back. You don’t care very much for your university’s football team; you just can’t understand the hype, okay? Turns out your distaste for football bigheads was exactly on point: James Barnes is insufferable.

{personal comment: Sassy reader here and I loved it. Their bickering is everything and I enjoyed how they grew a friendship to realizing there is more}

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Breaking the Rules @redgillan

Modern!Bucky x reader

Summary: You hate James Barnes with a burning passion and the feeling is entirely mutual. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, you are tricked into attending his sister’s wedding as his girlfriend. Stuck with a bunch of strangers, you come up with a set of rules that are not going to last long.

{personal comment: I enjoyed this so much. It’s incedibly relatable, real and it’s enemies to lovers, so that’s a huge bonus in the first place. Bucky's backstory touched me and I love how she needed some time to process everything and not just jump at the chance to be with him}

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[sashaisready]

Chapter Six - You Already Know

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again.

18+ - see Masterlist for full list of warnings

Series Masterlist

Chapter 7

You felt like a zombie during your shift, lifting your limbs was like wading through water. You’d nearly called out sick, but didn’t want to leave Wanda to hold the fort by herself – especially if Bucky and his stalkery thugs paid a visit. You had hardly slept after you discovered Sam in the car. It was unsettling. You wondered how long Bucky had been doing it, kicking yourself for being too oblivious to notice that you were being followed. You hated how violated it made you feel.

You had gone to work looking at each car that passed you, eyes searching for the familiar vehicle. You checked parked cars, cars halting at stop signs, cars turning down parallel streets. You didn’t see anything, but resented the paranoid wreck you’d become in a matter of hours. Then it hit you that they might have switched vehicles and you’d have no idea if they’d already passed you.

Wanda took one look at you and knew something was off, grilling you until you gave it up. You were embarrassed, truth be told. You’d gushed to her about Bucky and then you had to confess that he’d had you followed for God only knows how long. You felt foolish. It was arrogant of you to think you could tease a mob boss for months on end without any consequences.

Wanda’s eyes bugged in shock, horrified by this development.

“That’s so fucked up…” she said gently.

“Yep” you sighed sadly as you laid out the fresh stock.

“And you haven’t spoken to him since?”

You shook your head, stifling a yawn. “Nope…But if I had a crystal ball I’d assume that might change today”.

Wanda thought hard. “Are you going to go to the cops?”

You glared at her. “And say what? The employees of a man I flirt with at my bakery were parked outside my house at 3am on a public road where anyone can drive? They didn’t approach me, they were just sleeping in their car? Oh and that man just happens to be notorious mob boss Bucky Barnes, who you probably take bribes from?” you respond, sharper than you intended to.

Wanda gritted her teeth. “Well…when you put it like that…”

You sighed again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I know you’re trying to help. I’m just tired. And y’know…weirded out”.

Wanda nodded. She moved towards you and pulled you in for a hug. You accepted it gladly, allowing her embrace to comfort you.

“Thanks…I needed that” you murmur.

“Anytime. Look…I don’t mean to scare you, but I have to ask. Do you…do you think you’re in danger?” she asks cautiously.

You pause for a moment, considering the question. “Honestly? No. I don’t feel like I’m at risk. I’m just…very spooked” you explain.

Wanda nods, chewing her lip. You can tell she’s worried.

The bell above the door rings, breaking you two from your thoughts. Your heads spin to check who it is, only to see Bucky, Steve and Sam walk in. Their faces are solemn, it suddenly feels very warm in the room, as if you are standing right by the oven.

“Morning, gentleman” you call over to them, your tone indignant. “I would tell you what our specials are today, but I’m guessing you have already sent someone by to check”.

Bucky exhales, staring at you fiercely. His eyes are as penetrating as ever, hard to tear away from.

“Can we talk?” he asks gruffly.

You pretend to think for a moment. “Uh…no” you fire back sarcastically.

“C’mon Doll…” he replies, taking a hesitant step towards you.

“Don’t call me that” you spit.

He holds his hands up defensively. “Alright. I won’t. Look, I just want five minutes of your time. No tricks. And then I’ll be out of your way. Deal?”

You eye him suspiciously. “Just five, and then you’ll leave?”

He nods. “You have my word”.

“And you’re not going to send your goons to follow me home or anything creepy?” you ask sternly.

He shakes his head. “Nobody is going anywhere near you. I promise”.

You glance over at Wanda who gives you a small smile, reminding you that she’s here if you need her.

Your head snaps back to Bucky. “Alright, five minutes. But I don't want an audience”. You look to his men.

Bucky signals to Steve and Sam who swiftly exit the shop. You follow behind them to the front door, putting the latch on and flipping the ‘We’ll be right back!” sign in the window to be sure that you aren’t interrupted by any customers. Wanda looks at you expectantly but you nod to show you’re okay, she nods back before disappearing into the back room.

You fold your arms in front of your chest and lean against the counter, waiting for Bucky’s justification.

He clears his throat and begins to speak “So-”

“How long?” you interrupt briskly.

“What…?”

“How long?” you repeat, knowing full well he understands what you’re asking.

“Uh…since the start” he admits sheepishly.

You splutter. “Jesus fucking Christ” you hiss, covering your eyes with your hands.

“Look, I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot…”

“It’s so creepy! What the fuck?” you bark.

“Can you just let me talk? Please?” he snaps back, irritated now.

You shrug angrily and wave a hand gesturing him to speak.

“I’m sorry. I know how this must look. It must’ve been scary for you when you found them. You were never supposed to know…”

“Oh, well that’s fine then!” you scoff.

He looks at you warningly and you roll your eyes, allowing him to continue.

“…The fact is I do a lot of that. It comes with my job. After that first day I knew we’d be coming here a lot because the food was good and the men would want to. And that means I’d be interacting with you a lot. And that means I had to check you out. I have enemies everywhere, Doll. You’d be amazed. And you’d be handling my food so…”

You scoff. “Oh come on Tony Soprano, I’m just a Baker”.

“I know that now. But I didn’t. Look, I know it sounds crazy. But you know who I am. What I do” he looks at you earnestly, his eyes glued to yours as he talks.

“Also Tony Soprano is in the mafia…not the mob…”

You scowl at him and he holds his hand out defensively. 

“Not the time…okay I get it…”

He takes a breath and continues.

“Years ago, I started going to this coffee shop downtown. Loved the place, went several times a week. Until one day I’m grabbing my latte and the damn manager tries to turn a gun on me. Turns out an old client of mine with a grudge had cornered him, tells him he knows I’m in his shop every week and offered him $3000 to take me out when my guard is down. Said he could guarantee the cops wouldn't pursue it either. He didn’t get very far, poor kid had never pulled a trigger in his life, but it made me very cautious about where I spend my money, you get it?”

You gasp. “God, that’s horrible…”

He nods. “I know. $3k? I’m worth more than that…” he chuckles.

You shake your head with disapproval but are unable to hide your smirk.

“So you see, that’s what it was. Just to check you weren’t going to be slipping arsenic into my doughnuts or meeting with any of my...ex associates. And so we kept an eye on you. Maximoff too, very briefly”.

Your eyes widen as you listen to him talk, shocked by how casual he is about it all.

“It was soon pretty obvious to us that you weren’t cold blooded killers and didn't have any criminal ties. And here’s where I fucked up…because I know I should’ve stopped but…I don’t know. I started enjoying my time with you more and more. And I started feeling protective of you, I just wanted to make sure you were safe. So my men continued to keep an eye on you. It wasn’t all the time, just here and there. I know it’s creepy and you have every right to be mad…but that’s why. I’m sorry I scared you. I promise they won’t do it anymore. I think sometimes I’m so caught up in my world that I forget how it appears to people outside of it”.

You’re struck by the sincerity of his tone, if he was spinning you a yarn to keep you sweet then he was doing it convincingly. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come to you as you try to absorb everything you’ve heard. You’re horrified that you’ve been followed without your knowledge, your instincts tell you to get as far away from this man as you can. Yet a tiny part of you lights up at his admission that he enjoys his time with you, and that this was all motivated by wanting to protect you – as twisted as that might be. You're like a moth to a flame, unable to keep away.

“You don’t have to protect me” you reply with irritation. 

He nods, the beginnings of a warm smile curling onto his perfect mouth. “I know. I’ve overstepped, I’m really sorry”.

You find yourself annoyed that you can feel yourself relenting. He’s just so smooth, his words roll off his tongue so effortlessly – his charm envelopes you as you’re swept downstream, unable to keep your head above water. If he’s manipulating you then he’s doing a great job.

“You really enjoy your time with me?” you ask shyly.

He grins, cocking his head to the side as he drinks you in.

“Well, put it this way. This bakery is all the way across town from my home. I can’t get here without getting stuck in traffic, and I pass at least three other bakeries on the way. I've spent thousands of dollars in here. So what do you think?”

You blush, dropping your eyes to the floor. “Well, we are the best…” you reply gently.

His grin widens. “That’s also true”.

You sigh. “Alright. You’re not totally forgiven…but let’s put it behind us. BUT I don’t want to see an SUV anywhere near me from now on”.

He exhales, clasping his hands together in gratitude. “Thank-you, that means a lot to me”.

He leans in and places a gentle kiss on your cheek, your face burning as his lips make contact with your skin.

You nod, slightly flustered by the whole exchange.

“I should get going” Bucky says as he checks the time on his phone. “But I’m glad we straightened this out”.

You nod again, still slightly unnerved by it all, but giddy from his attention.

“Hey, do you think I could get your number?” he asks, handing you his phone.

You feel a surge of excitement in your belly, nodding as you take it from him and add yourself to his contacts. A burst of images fly through your head – being on a date with him, kissing him, walking hand in hand, sinking onto a mattress with him…

“I’m surprised you don’t already have it…” you say coyly as you pass the phone back.

He smirks, looking at the entry in his phone. “Well, I could’ve…but I thought you’d prefer the old fashioned way”. He winks at you as he heads to the door.

“Bucky…” you call out to him.

He turns to face you expectantly, one hand already on the door.

“What…uh…what happened to the coffee shop guy with the gun?” you find yourself asking, unable to resist scratching that itch.

Bucky’s face hardens, he drops his gaze to the floor momentarily before his focus shifts back to you again. His eyes are suddenly cold, a world away from the affection you found in them just moments before.

“You sure you want to know?” he asks chillily.

You pause, shaking your head as you stare at your feet.

You already know.

His face softens again, flipping over the sign and unlatching the door.

“I’ll see you around, Doll”.

[sjsmith56]

Bucky Barnes, Deadpool and the TVA (or How I ended up inside the fourth wall)

Summary: A Bucky Barnes fanfiction writer finds herself in the same universe as the Thunderbolts* Bucky when she wakes up in his bed.

Length: 4.1 K

Characters: Unnamed and undescribed OFC, Bucky Barnes, Dr. Strange, Wong, B-15, variant of OFC, OMC (OFC’s husband)

Warnings: some sexual innuendo, naked horny Bucky, no smut (sorry)

Author notes: Just a silly story that I pulled from somewhere in my mind. The part about the OFC and her husband seeing the new Deadpool movie at a matinee was based on real life.

💻 🦾 🛵

The blank page stared at me.  It wasn't blank five minutes ago, but I read what I wrote, and didn't like it, so I deleted it and then I was looking at the page again.  We met before, you, the reader and me, the writer.  I sought help from the very reason I write, Bucky Barnes.  The writing gods first sent me World War II Bucky, a sweet flirty guy who was still interested in the stories I wrote.  The version that appeared to me was from before Azzano and before the train; that dreadful transport of death that changed his whole life in a moment.  Then they sent me the Winter Soldier, the dark brooding villain ... I know, he was more than that, but that was HYDRAs use of him.  He was their Fist, brutally carrying out assassinations on targets they assigned him.  Relentless and frightening in his attention to his task he was still a sight to see; that tall, dark-haired muscular menace and the way he strutted towards his target.  No hesitation, no regrets and totally the object of many fantasies.  I still got warm thinking about the ones I read about, never mind wrote.  On that day, it was Falcon and the Winter Soldier (FATWS) Bucky who came to my rescue.  It was him as he was portrayed at the end of the series, seemingly in a place where he felt at home in Delacroix, becoming part of Sam Wilson's family as their adopted uncle.  That Bucky sat with me, helped me through my writer's block, and even gave me an idea for a Black Widow smut piece that was a gift to my husband.  Before he left, he said he would always be there for me.  At the time, he probably meant it.  Then there was a disturbance in the Force.

Wrong franchise, I know, but how else to explain how things seemed to go a bit sideways?  There were the What If? episodes, that displayed Bucky as the sidekick to Captain Carter.  Those was okay, then he was more of the dark brooding long-hair version of Wakanda Bucky in a zombie wasteland.  At least we got to see a cartoon version of him in the shower, from the waist up.  Wasn't quite enough to quench the fandom's thirst for him but it was a start.  Don't even get me started on the Guardians of the Galaxy Christmas special where Nebula appeared with Bucky's vibranium arm, opening a whole can of worms over whether it was funny (not to me), cute (seriously stealing Bucky's arm is cute?) and canon (no, James Gunn, it wasn't canon to me).  Yes, I'm changing the tense in the middle of a paragraph by telling you to don't @ me if you're a believer in any of the three above.  To me, all three of those scenarios were just wrong.  I got emotional then and I still do.

I wrote since then, some AUs, lots of one shots as I explored that format, several short fiction pieces of less than 50,000 words, and a couple of long ones.  It was going well, then they brought out the Captain America 4 announcement that Bucky wouldn't be in it (what?) and the Thunderbolts* announcement that Sam Wilson wouldn't be in that (seriously?).  Why did they get us to invest our time and interest in a six-part series about these two men forging a deep friendship if they had no intention of continuing it in their movies?  The rumours about Bucky in this upcoming movie littered the pages of tumblr and Twitter (sorry / not sorry X); things like Bucky regressed mentally and emotionally, he and Sam had a falling out, he became a congressman, or he went to work for Val de Fontaine so that he didn't lose his pardon. 

Why would they do that to Bucky?  Let the man have a fucking life.  As you could see I got emotional about it.  On that particular day I decided to have a nap and clear my mind, then it all changed.

💤

"Hey, sweetheart."  I could hear the voice, then I felt a cold hand around my waist, reaching up under my T-shirt.  Jerking away and turning around I found myself in bed with Bucky Barnes, beefy Bucky, with the bad haircut shown in the leaked preview of the Thunderbolts*.   "There she is."

He had no shirt on, and I found it hard to look at him, then opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out.  I noticed the smirk on his face, which made me feel warm, like really warm, the way the writers of Bucky smut describe it; a warm pool forming in my core, between my thighs, deep in my ....  What happened to me?  Where was I?

"You okay, doll?  You have a nightmare?"  His hand cupped my jaw, as he rubbed his thumb on my cheek.

"You're Bucky," I said, still frozen in place, because let's face it, it's not everyday you find yourself in bed with your romantic fantasy.

"Last I checked," he answered, licking his lips then running his hand over the beard he grew since he was in FATWS.  "You're my wife."

I pulled away from him, aware that he might not have anything on at all.  He looked at me funny.

"You seem different.  Tell me you're not a multiverse version of you that's been dropped here."

"I don't know," I answered, pulling the sheet up to cover my front since I realized I wasn't wearing a bra, and my nipples were doing something that was a little disconcerting.  "Am I a writer?  Are we married?  Are you working for Val de Fontaine?"

He laughed, showing those beautiful white teeth, then he leaned close, gently pulling down the sheet and began to nuzzle my neck, making me feel all sorts of things.

"No, yes, and no," he answered.  "Come here."

I pulled away so far that I fell out of bed and sat there on the floor with him looking over the edge at me with a decidedly perturbed expression on his face.  With only panties on underneath that T-shirt I pulled on the sheet, so I was covered again.

"What's got into you?"

"What's my name, Bucky?"

"Sweetheart, sunshine, baby girl, darlin' and my personal favourite, doll."  He was resting his head on his hands, looking at me in a way that was definitely more friendly than I was comfortable with.

"Those aren't names, they're terms of endearment," I answered.  "I am married but not to you and you're supposed to be an Avenger, with Sam Wilson."

"Really, just who are you married to and what is your name?" he asked, in a flirting manner.  "Gotta say, sunshine, this role-playing thing could be fun."

I told him my husband's name and my name.  "I shouldn't be part of the multiverse because it's not real.  It's fiction."

He laughed, then saw I wasn't laughing and frowned.  Angry Bucky alert.  "You have to be from the multiverse.  If you're not, where's my wife?  Why do you look and sound like her?"

I raised my hands up.  "I don't know where she is.  I look like her because I write fanfiction of you, and I picture myself in the original female character's role.  She usually becomes your love interest.  But I had writer's block because Marvel has been messing around with your portrayal and not giving out much information of how they've changed your character.  It was bugging me, so I took a nap, then woke up next to you."

"Who's this Marvel guy?  Do you think he knows where my wife is?"

He didn't know about the fourth wall, was definitely angry and all I could think of was that he looked just as angry now as he did in that leaked Thunderbolts* footage.

"Marvel's not a guy, it's a corporation that owns the copyright to your character."  I winced as I explained it to him, knowing he wasn't liking it.  "You're not real, Bucky.  You're a fictional character from the comics and the movies they made from it.  But you know this already.  I've spoken to you in your World War II persona, your Winter Soldier persona and from when you and Sam fought the Flag Smashers.  That's called your FATWS era."

I started to explain what the letters meant but he just glared at me, so I stopped.  He pulled away from the edge of the bed and got out on the other side, naked, and I did stare, I'll admit it.  God, he had a nice ass and the rest of him from the back was... wow.  Then he turned to face me, and I looked everywhere but there. 

"Get dressed," he ordered.  "You're taking me to this Marvel place and I'm going to get my wife back."

"It's not as easy as that," I replied.  He stared at me, his arms crossed defiantly in front of him while he was still showing everything the serum gave him.  I focused on his face, but it was so hard ... not that, you know what I mean.  "If this is a multiverse incursion then there might not be a Marvel in this universe and even if there was it wouldn't be possible to just walk in there.  We have to find Dr. Strange.  He's the only one who can do anything."

"Fine," he said, "but you're still coming with me.  Now get dressed."

Holding the sheet around me I approached the walk-in closet, but he was still standing there, naked, in all of his glory and he smelled so good when I slid past him to see what was available for me to wear.  Then he was right behind me, practically pressing himself into me and I had to focus, wondering if I had ever written this much raw physical sexuality into my versions of Bucky but it was difficult to concentrate with him so close. 

"You having problems, baby girl?" he asked, his lips so close to my ear that I could feel his warm breath making me moist. 

"I don't know what to wear," I mumbled, still painfully aware of his naked body this close to me and I was really only separated from him by a sheet. 

"We're going on the motorcycle," he said.  "Jeans, T-shirts, and leather jackets."

"Right," I answered, hastily going through the sexy dresses, the long gowns with the thigh-high slits, the almost obscene lingerie, but there were no jeans or T-shirts.  "Um, where are they?"

"In the drawers," he grunted.  "Don't you have drawers in your universe?"

"Yes," I snapped.  "Could you stand further away from me?"

"What's the matter, darlin'? Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"This close to me while naked, yes."  I rolled my eyes, which he must have heard because he huffed, but he did move away, and I was able to get out of that small space.

Quickly, I located the drawer that had jeans and pulled them on.  They were tighter than anything I ever wore but somehow, I got them on.  The bra selection left a lot to be desired as most of it was see through and really didn't offer much support.  I must have made a noise while I was searching for something more modest because he was suddenly beside me.

"Having a problem, sweetheart?  Don't see anything you like?  My wife loves all the lingerie I buy for her."

"It's not my style," I answered.  "Doesn't she have something that covers more?"

"Sports bra," he answered.  "Bottom drawer."

I pulled it open, thankful to find an assortment of sports bras.  Pulling one out I started to take the T-shirt off that I woke up in then became aware of his eyes on me.  Turning around I was startled to see him reclining on the bed, propped up on one elbow, fully clothed, with his booted feet hanging off the bed.

"Do you mind?"

"No, I don't mind at all," he smirked.  "Don't let me stop you.  I've seen it all anyways."

"But you're married.  Wouldn't watching me get dressed make your wife angry?"

He grinned in an almost wolfish manner.  "We have an understanding."

"What?  The Bucky's I write are monogamous.  Are you polyamorous?"

The grin became a broad smile as he looked me up and down.  "If the occasion arises.  Gotta say I'm curious to see if you have the same appetites as my doll."

"Out!"  I wasn't in the mood for this.  "Right now.  Go downstairs and get your motorcycle ready."

Slowly, he slid off the bed, then approached me, backing me up to the dresser, while looking at me in a way that gave me thrills at the same time as setting off all sorts of warning bells in my head.

"You sure, sunshine?"  His fingertips grasped a tendril of my hair, as he twirled it slightly.  "I could definitely make you ...."

"Out," I repeated.  "Please stop this."

He backed up, suddenly respectful of my space.  "Since you said the magic word, I'll wait downstairs for you."

Just like that, he was gone, and I quickly got the sports bra on, then a clean T-shirt.  I pulled on some socks and found some boots, sliding them on.  With a quick run through of my hair with my fingers I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, wondering what I had done to get into this predicament.

He was waiting on his motorcycle for me, with a helmet in hand.  As I stood there, he placed it on my head, adjusting the chin strap then nodding his head in approval, before putting his on.  I slid on behind him, grasping him at the waist.  His voice came over a Bluetooth speaker in the helmet.

"You okay, darlin'?  Have you ridden a motorcycle before?"

"I'm good.  My husband has one and I've ridden with him.  Where are we going?"

"The Sanctum Sanctorum," he said.  "Might as well go straight to Dr. Strange."

Suddenly, we were there, pulling up to an open parking spot in front of the headquarters of the Masters of the Mythical Arts in the middle of Greenwich Village.  This was definitely a unique universe, as we skipped over the long motorcycle ride from Brooklyn, then the frustration of finding any sort of parking.  Striding over to the door, Bucky rang the bell, and we were ushered in by an acolyte to where Dr. Strange was drinking a cup of tea and Wong was standing there wringing his hands.  Before we could even say anything the two men looked at me, then at each other, then at Bucky.

"Where did you find her?" asked Wong.

That wolfish grin briefly appeared again on Bucky's face.  "In my bed.  Says she's not my wife, so where is she?"

"That is a good question," said Strange, placing his teacup on the table and approaching me, assessing me in a way that was a little disturbing.  "Well, this explains a lot.  You're from the real world, aren't you?  Beyond the fourth wall."

"Yes, I guess.  I'm a fanfiction writer and was taking a nap.  When I woke up it was next to him."  I pointed at Bucky.  "The thing is, he's nothing like the Bucky Barnes character that I write about."

"What's different about him?" Strange's one eyebrow was higher than the other.  It was one thing seeing it in the movies but another thing seeing it in person.  "Is there a problem with my face?"

"No, no.  The biggest difference is that the Bucky's I write are monogamous and this one is polyamorous."

"And?  That's a problem?"

I became aware that I was in the middle of all three men, and they were looking at me as if I were lunch, served on a platter just for them.

"Stop!" I barked.  "Yeah, it's a problem, okay?  Is this a polyamorous universe?  Because I'm not!  I'm married to one man, and I want to go back to him.  Please, you must find a way to get me back to where I belong."

Wong backed away from me first.  "She's right.  Consent is still required in this universe.  Plus, with her being from beyond the fourth wall we could really hurt her.  She's actual flesh and blood ... we're fictional characters."

Dr. Strange backed away, returning to his cup of tea.  Bucky, well, he just sprawled on a couch as if he had always lived there.

"Tell me about what you were doing before you slept," said Strange.

I told him about the physical changes to Bucky's appearance based on the leaked preview of Thunderbolts* and how the fandom was worrying about his portrayal, and the fact that after a six part series of him and Sam becoming friends Marvel just casually split them apart into two different movies as if the other didn't even exist. 

"You care about him," said Strange, his voice neutral.  "You want him to be happy."

"Well, yeah," I replied.  "The man lost everything that mattered to him and was tortured for 70 years, experimented on, and forced to become a killer for a gang of authoritarian thugs.  My thing, my contribution to fanfiction is that Bucky gets a happy ending."

"Sweetheart, I have that," said the super soldier, from where he sat on the couch.  "I admit that I am fucked up, but my wife makes me happy and her interest in our extramarital activities is the same as mine.  Yet, you treat me like I'm some sort of deviant."

"No, it's not that."  I sighed.  "Other writers see you in this way and that's fine; that's their thing and lots of people read them and enjoy them but I guess I just like you better when you're monogamous, kind and gentle.  To someone like me, this version of you is a bit scary and overwhelming."

"That's fair," he murmured.  "You look like my wife.  Does your husband look like me?"

"No, not at all," I smiled.  "He's shorter, balding, not as fit.  But he loves me and he's faithful, kind, and gentle.  He beta reads my stories, and I even wrote a Black Widow smut piece just for him.  I think he imagines me as his Black Widow sometimes."

Bucky grinned, then nodded his head approvingly. 

"Do they break the fourth wall in this Thunderbolts* movie?" asked Wong.

"I don't know.  It hasn't come out yet and there's been very few previews of it.  I think the only Marvel character that breaks the fourth wall is Deadpool.  His movie with Wolverine just came out recently and is making a ton of money."

Both Dr. Strange and Wong perked up.  "Deadpool?  As in Wade Wilson?"

I nodded.  "Yeah, he's fully aware in the movies and comic books that he's fictional.  He often breaks the fourth wall."

My voice tapered off.  Was I here because of Deadpool?

"Sunshine, have you seen the movie?" Bucky was also sitting upright.

I nodded my head.  "My husband and I went to see the matinee just a few days ago."

A green glow emanated from the time stone as Dr. Strange went to wherever he went when he activated it.  Wong watched him carefully as did Bucky.  Then the Supreme Sorcerer stopped his permutations and gazed at me.

"The Time Variance Authority are in this movie," he stated.  "I have a feeling they're involved in this.  But why they would take someone from the real world and place them here is a mystery to me."

Suddenly a TVA portal opened in front of us, and B-15 walked out followed by me, at least a version of me, wearing only a T-shirt and panties.  Bucky jumped up from the couch.

"Doll? Is it you?"

"Oh Daddy, I was so afraid," she cried, as he wrapped his arms around her.  "I woke up in a cell and didn't know how I got there, and ...."  She noticed me.  "She's me."

"I'm sorry," said B-15, looking at me.  "A terrible mistake was made.  Beyond the fourth wall is usually forbidden to our hunters but when you went to see the Deadpool movie your presence was noticed in the theatre with your Bucky variant."

"Wait, my husband is a Bucky variant?"

The leader of the TVA smiled.  "Well, yes.  It's why you write Bucky Barnes fanfiction.  You see him as Bucky and yourself as the original female character.  You don't have to look alike to be a variant.  It's just that you're kind of the model for the OFC in your own universe where you draw your inspiration from.  It's supposed to be a private universe and off limits to the TVA.  Unfortunately, one of our hunters didn't understand that.  He removed Mrs. Barnes here as an illegal variant and installed you as the original in this universe.  He has been sent for judgement and won't be in a position to do that again.  We are also making sure all of our hunters are aware that the Bucky Barnes fanfiction that you write and read in your own private universe is just that, private, at least to us."

"So how do we get this Mrs. Barnes back to her universe beyond the fourth wall?" asked Dr. Strange.  "I have the feeling it's beyond my capabilities."

B-15 smiled at him.  "It is but not beyond mine.  As soon as she's ready to go I'll open a portal back to her universe."

It sounded simple and like many movies, a little bit of a quick fix, but I wanted to go back so I wasn't going to question it.  Wong smiled at me.

"Good luck on the next one shot," he said.

I nodded at him, then Dr. Strange looked at me in that superior way he sometimes had.  "I knew there would be a logical solution."

"Right."

Bucky was next, his wife already wearing his leather jacket.

"Oh, this is yours," I said, starting to take the one I had off. 

"Keep it sweetheart, as a souvenir," he smirked.  "Say hi to your husband for me.  Tell me something.  The lady there said something about the fiction you read.  Does that mean you do read the polyamorous stuff, since you ended up in my bed?"

I sighed as I hated being put in a position of agreeing.  "Every so often one captures my eye," I admitted.  "Doesn't mean it's something I'm interested in trying."

"If you say so."  He glanced at his wife with affection.  "You came through for me.  I appreciate it."

I looked at B-15.  "I'm ready."

She nodded at the others, then punched a few buttons on her TemPad.  A portal opened and I walked through it, then felt the touch of my husband's hand on my shoulder as I was still on top of the bed.

"Honey?  Wake up."

I sat up, saw my husband, and felt a rush of affection for him.

"Sorry, I took a nap, and I guess I was more tired than what I thought."

"No worries," he smiled.  "Um, did you go shopping today?  Is that a new jacket and jeans and boots?"

I was still in the other Mrs. Barnes' clothing.

"Yes?" I answered, tentatively.

He smiled and nodded his head appreciatively.  "I like them.  Makes you look hot.  You should wear stuff like that more often."  Offering me his hand, he helped me up.  "What do you think of taking a ride on the bike and going to a diner for dinner?  My treat."

"Sounds like a plan," I answered.  "Just let me freshen up a little."

When I got outside my husband was already waiting on his Vespa.  I know what you're thinking ... a Vespa is not a motorcycle.  Maybe not in the traditional sense but it is what we have and it's a lot of fun.  I still get to wrap my arms around my husband's waist and maybe he doesn't have a hard body like Bucky Barnes, but he's all mine and I don't have to share him with anyone.  Besides, now that I know he's a Bucky variant I understand how he knows what I like between the sheets, if you get what I mean.  When I do write smut, I'm writing about my Bucky, the one I live with in this universe, beyond the fourth wall.

One Shots Masterlist

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[captnvbarnes]

➼ 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑹’𝑺 𝑩𝑰𝑵𝑫 (17+) 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒆

theme — a marvel zombie au!

pairings — bucky barnes x fem!reader, steve rogers x fem!reader

warnings — marriage troubles, slight fluff, training, slight angst

summary — the outbreak had happened as quick as the first bite. one, then two, then 1/3 of the population became 2/3’s. before any of the avengers could comprehend this threat, it overcame them with new york’s rising population becoming undead. bucky is your protector, not by choice but by chance he was there just in time to save you. you two flew the compound, leaving the life you knew. leaving your husband to rot. as you two grapple what this new world has become, everything became too much. the world depended on you guys to save them, but how could you save anyone now? and when the blood runs and the nights become colder, who will save you?

➽────────────────────❥

Unbeknownst to the entire compound, the United States Eastern coast has became initially exposed to its impending demise.

The spread began in the north of Maine,  at 2:13 am, September 27th.

—

Sun dripped into your windows as the birds chirped and sang their songs. You could feel the rising warmth kiss your skin, your eyes crinkle before widening at the blaring noise of your alarm.

6 am.

"Steeeeve..." You grumble out, tossing your covers over your eyes and tossing the other way.

The alarm's blaring noise answered you instead.

"STEEEEVE!" You yell out again, wavering your hand blindly to swat at the annoying piece of scrap on your bedside table.

The alarm's annoyance continued.

"Ugh.." You submit, tossing your cover over and cutting the box's voice short before it could continue its belligerence.

You sit up, yawning and stretching your arms outward. You blink and let your eyes adjust to the sun's colors, greeting you unwarranted.

You turn and find your husband's spot... empty. It's neatly folded as-well. You scan the room, looking for a trace to as where any sign of Steve could've placed. Nothing in sight.

You get up, tidying your bed to twin with Steve's side. You slide into your slippers and grab your morning robe that hanged on a door rack of your closest which you draggingly coated yourself into. You noticed Steve's was still there. You round the bed, noting Steve's slippers were placed beside a wall, not in front of the bed as he set them before he slept.

He must've started the day without you already.

You roll your eyes. You get he likes a fresh start to the day, but you love the mornings you awake with him together especially.

Figuring the previous, you grab your clothes for the day and bathing supplies. Can't trust leaving your soaps in the community showers after Captain Marvel took a visit and was curious to what each Earth product was the best for her hair. Although she is currently off planet, it became a better idea to keep things in each other's room after using.

You walk down the halls, yawning and stretching. You pass Wanda just before she re-enters her room, already completed with her shower. "Morning Y/N!" you hear her greet, and you say the same to her in kind, a little more tired, before following with another yawn. "Morning Wanda."

You soon enter the community showers, the woman's and men divided but placed across each other. You hear some men inside, and know everyone is now starting their day if they haven't already.

"Morning sunshine." You look and see Natasha, wearing her morning robe and dampening her hair with a towel before wrapping it on her head. "Morning Natty" you say, giving her a half ass smile. "What time did you go to bed?" She chuckles. "Late. Maybe around 2?" You reply, approaching one of the covered showers and turning the nozzle to warm it up.

You hear Nat playfully pout. "Why so late babe?" You feel for the water, checking its temp. "Steve kept tossing and turning." You say.

Causality of being married to a former man in the army. No biggie, you're used to it and it's not the worst thing in the world.

"Ah, yeah that happens. Barnes did it a lot when we were together for a bit. But then again so did I some nights.." She trails off. Her and Barnes had dated a few years ago, but parted for differences and that they were better as friends. No hard feelings. Nat then met Bruce and since then they've been stable for about 3 years.

You felt the water become the right temp, nodding to Nat's words but signaling her that you needed to waken the fuck up and let the water rush over you. You entered the shower, closing the curtain and began undressing leaving everything on a bench inside the area. Stark made sure to have it be spacious and with storage. Though you're convinced it was Pepper's touch.

"Have you seen Steve? He wasn't with me when I awoke." You asked, setting your ring alongside your clothes, looking at it for a brief second as it sat. "Yeah, he went on a run with Wilson earlier, like... an hour ago?" She estimated, slightly muffled sounding as she began brushing her teeth.

You nodded, beginning your routine and lathering yourself in this new body wash that Stark sponsored and they wouldn't stop sending him merchandise. At least it smelled nice and lathered all bubbly.

You heard from the outside of your shower the sink run, clothes rustle, a zip of jeans and soon blow drying.

You thought on how Steve, as of late, would begin his mornings without you. Actually... for the past few months. It felt special when you guys woke up together, greeting each other with morning kisses and snuggling for a little bit too long before risking being late on morning training and breakfast. Not to mention, you two have been going on separate missions as well. There's been a slowly increasing distance, but nothing you would dare be vocal on as you diminished it to 'just nothing too serious to worry on'.

"Hey babe, I'm done with myself. I'll be in the kitchen with the others, Steve and Sam should be back from their run soon." You hear Nat yell. "Thanks Nat, will do!" You respond, snapping out of your thoughts and slowly beginning to wrap up.

You turned the nozzle, grabbing your towel and drying yourself. There was a light layer of steam, the sun brightening the rooms more now.

You dressed yourself in your casual attire, adorning your ring last. You fiddled with it, twisting it with your right index and thumb.

Surely, Steve wasn't slipping from you, right?

Or... you weren't from him?

No, you wouldn't. You love Steve. He's your husband. Till death do you part.

You brushed your teeth and washed your face, cleansing it and patting it dry with your hand towel. You did your makeup after, then finally brushing out your hair before pulling it back, leaving some strands to frame your face.

You grab the remainder of your belongings and open the to door leave. As you do so, you hear the men's bathroom door open opposite of you.

It's Buck. His hair is damp and some parts wet. He wears a Henley that's clings onto his body a bit too well. You try to not take note of how well it highlights his muscles throughly.

"Oh, hey Y/N, morning." He greets, monotonously but still positive somewhat. "Morning Buck" You say, looking over his face. He recently shaved so he looks more cleaned up.

You two walk out of the bathroom area together towards the bedding suites. "You didn't join Steve for his run today?" You ask. Usually Steve and Buck do everything together. "Nah, just didn't.. feel up to it. Plus I had a mess to clean up." He says, gesturing to his jaw. You chuckle slightly to it, it was kinda getting out of control. "It looked somewhat fine before, but I get it." You say. He notices you trail off, looking more ahead downward. "You ok?" He asks, stopping to a halt and facing you. "Yeah, I'm good Buck. Just.." you trail off.

You stop and think to yourself. You don't want to bother your husband's best friend with marriage issues. Doesn't feel the most appropriate. Plus, you never like to talk down about Steve or any sort of negative way, especially when it could just be nothing.

"Just kind of hungry. I went to bed late too so I'm extra tired." You salvage, giving him a reassuring smile which he copies. You two continue your walk. "Well we got raiding drills later, so better be on your a-game for that soldier." He chuckles, before nodding towards his door which you two came upon. It’s the door next to you and Steve's room. Of course they were paired to be set up right next to each other's quarters. "Ha, so totally looking forward to that." You sarcastically say, him slightly chuckling before you two both enter your respected rooms.

You drop off your dirty clothes into the laundry shoot, setting down your bathing supplies and unplugging your phone from your charger.

1 message from 'Hubby', 5:45 am.

[Hey, out on a run with Sam. Be back around 7.]

You clear the notification off your screen and check the time. 6:53 am. He should be back soon.

You put your phone into your pocket, heading towards the door before closing it shut and heading towards the kitchen.

You hear the commotion before you see it, heading down the stairs and the smell of bacon instantly hitting you. Yum.

"So he said, 'you fucker!'" you hear Clint say, mimicking a foreign accent. "And I said, 'but I barely know her!'" he laughs at his own dad joke, you not initially hearing the first part of the joke but you know it was corny as any of his other jokes. And so does everyone, as you hear some disappointed groans follow from it. 

You see Bruce frying eggs and bacon, Nat preparing toast and jam for herself, Tony nursing a cup of coffee lowly talking to Bruce beside him, Clint rambling about his jokes sitting at the head of the table, and Wanda delved into her Sokovian poetry book on the couch. 

Tony's the first to notice you. "Hey sleeping beauty, thanks for joining us for comedy hour, don't expect much though, it's a bit outdated." He whips, Clint sending him an offended shocked look. "Hey my jokes are funny!" He retorts. "Sure pal, and I'm a blessed virgin nun." Tony quips back, some low laughter from the other teammates following. Everyone greets you with a morning as well as you make yourself more settled into the room.

You fix yourself your favorite mug, nudging Tony to the side with a small hip bump and grabbing the coffee pot nearby. He scoffs jokingly and makes his way towards a head chair at the opposite end of Clint.

"Morning Y/N, how do you like your eggs?" You hear Bruce warmly ask. He's always so sweet. He took up cooking, and it's calmed him a lot. "Scrambled today, and some bacon if you don't mind." You smile at him, he smiles back and nods his head. You stir your cream and sugar together.

As you clink the spoon on your mug, you hear the compound doors open followed by rumbling laughter. Steve and Sam are back from their run.

You feel as though you're supposed to be more warmly about your husband returning, but find yourself being only pleasantly happy. Why weren't you as ecstatic like before? Is it because you realized the distance?

"Hey guys, welcome back, how was the 10k mile run?" Tony jokes, Steve rolls his eyes but chuckles. He wipes his forehead. He doesn't look to you yet.

Why didn't he look at you first?

"Was quite the warm up, Sam barely caught up with me." Steve said, gesturing to Sam who was clearly delighted to be back from the morning cardio. He had a sheen of sweat over his face. "You cheated you old man.." he heaved, hands on both his knees to stabilize his breathing.

At the same time, Bucky made his way down the steps. You looked and caught his eye first. He smiled at you, and you returned the gesture and hoisted up your cup as an hello.

Steve finally took notice of you and smiled. "Hey honey, morning." He greeted, making his way to you before kissing you quickly. Luckily with his super soldier capabilities, he doesn't sweat. At least not after a run he'd consider easy work. You smiled into the kiss, lightly ghosting your fingers over his jaw. "Morning handsome."

Bucky watches the display of affection. It's cute. He's happy for his best friend. He found himself a very good beautiful woman. Steve's deserved this life, especially after everything. You're Steve's girl, and Bucky will always protect you on the field as a courtesy to his best friend.

"Eggs are done!" Bruce calls. "I get first dibs, mine!" Tony says, pushing past everyone to secure his plate first.

—

11:43 am.

Morning training is a brutal start of the day. It goes over swiftly, standard drills and procedures. Tony made a holographic simulation, that way it's easier to track each member's stats and determine their strong and weak points as well as pushing past the boundaries of what is physically possible. Which is somewhat good, because technically none of you guys should be possible, yet here you are. It prepares all of you guys for how to handle future opponents you've yet to encounter. For the chance of impossibility..

You sparred with Steve only a handful of times, but often spar against other people to not let the marriage influence any pulled punches. Today, your sparring partners were Clint and Bucky.

Clint was defense based. He had trained with S.H.I.E.L.D longer than you did when it was still active. He knocks you down only a few times, but more so you over come him. He's proud of you regardless, as he was one of the people who recommended you for the spot on the team. He wasn't that much older than you, but you remember him from the academy days when he was a fresh graduate and you were a shining young prodigy.

Bucky was offense based. You were vigilante with your defense, coming in strong with offense, but Bucky always had the upper hand due to longer experience than most people in the room.

"You need to aim high but strike low. Throw them off, take them by surprise. Always use the element of surprise to your advantage." He advised, you two in a walking rotating circle. You went for a fake out punch with your right hand, him raising his hands instantly before you swipe your left foot under him and watch him fall. "Like that? Feels like a cheap shot." You retort, you both chuckle but you help him up. "Cheap, but works at times. I let you do that by the way. Be more aggressive this time." He chuckles, and you two continue the routine.

Steve watches as you train with his best friend. He watches your every move. When the others don't train you, Steve tries to personally train you himself on what he knows. But different builds require different tactics. He hasn't trained you in a while, he realizes.

He then takes note. He hasn't really set aside a whole lot of time with you. He feels a slight disconnect, but he blames it for his soldier core. And he's sure you understand, right?

"Capper, you gonna stop drooling over your lady or focus back?" Nat quips. Steve shyly smiles. "Can't resist looking at her." He plays off his thoughts, and continues his training with Nat.

—

1:12 pm.

Lunch gets delayed till then, mostly everyone having cut training quits before then to eat while you focused more and trained a bit longer. Your thoughts run back to you and Steve as you attack a punching bag. You recall endless mornings waking up alone, how your soothing doesn't help him slept as well as it did, how he no longer looked for you first any time he entered a room. How he—

"Doll, we don't need Stark asking both of us for a new punching bag out of our paychecks." Steve's voice breaks your focus and you stop. You hold the bag to a halt and wipe the sweat off your forehead with your boxing glove. You turn and see Steve, hands on hips and a smug smirk plastered on his handsome face. The face that once upon a time charmed America and your heart.

You sigh, giving your best smile to him. Maybe you are just overthinking everything. You guys are Avengers, of course you guys can be caught up in this kind of line of work.

"I'm sure he wouldn't notice the dent in his wallet." You say, taking off your gloves as Steve approaches you. He kisses you lightly again, quick and brisk. You became accustomed to the chaste kisses. Though you missed the ones filled with passion and ones that felt like he was kissing you for air. "No, he definitely wouldn't but he'd notice out of spite for us." He retorts, rising a small chuckle from you.

He holds your frame and you place your now bare hands onto his broad chest. You take notice he's in his uniform. You weren't notified there was a mission today? Usually Steve lets you know weeks in advance.

"Why are you in uniform?" You question him, giving him a puzzled tense look. He reads your expression and drops his shoulders. "Emergency mission. Fury informed us that there has been this kind of outbreak in Central America. It's taken over governments in a day." He explains. You become more confused. "Why weren't we aware of this? Governments, like plural?" You ask, kinda huffing but surprised by the lack of knowledge of this. "Because hun.." a look of worry paints his face. Rarely he's this concerned over a mission. "It happened just two days ago. In just a couple days, multiple countries fell." He explains, and the worry on his face then dresses your own. "But-" "With the Sokovia Accords, international issues have been restricted. Until now. But they're being limited with it as an ultimatum." He reads your mind and answers the question you were about to ask. It explains a bit, yet nothing at all. Sure you heard some minor things on international plagues, but there has been so many new diseases in the last decade that you didn't think much of this one.

"Wait... what do you mean by limited?" You ask, and as if on cue, Nat, Wanda, and Tony stand themselves at the entrance of the training room.

The gears slowly start to form in your head. "They only want a few of us to go check it out. Fury was told that only me, The Black Widow, Scarlet Witch, and Ironman were requested by the UN." Steve says, and you feel your heart sink.

"No no Steve, I'm coming with you-" "Darling you can't.." Steve's heart breaks hearing your plea. "Steve no!" You scream at him, holding onto his uniform before he grapples his hold on you a bit tighter to shake you out of it. "Y/N!" You feel teary eyed. You felt wrong to have doubt his love and question the distance between you two. Although it was warranted and fair, it seemed so little now.

Something like this sounds dangerous. And you wouldn't be there to have his back?

"Please look... it'll only be a few days mission, a week tops. The UN don't want us there, so I'm sure they're gonna want us back as soon as possible." He reassured, though it did little to calm you. "I'm sure this is just an inside terrorist organization. They probably orchestrated this to all happen at once." He continues. You blink back your tears, trying to hear him out and make reason of it all.

Bucky, who was a few rooms down, had heard the commotion and came forward to it. He saw his fellow team members at the door, heading towards Nat for an explanation which she shortly gave to him. After, he looked to you and Steve, watching the scene unfold with everyone else.

"I'll be back soon doll. That's a promise." Steve says with a smile and caresses your cheek softly. You try to melt into his touch, but there's a million things going on in your head at the moment. You can't find comfort, there isn't enough comfort for what you're trying to process. But maybe he is right. Maybe it is just a situation where it's another power hungry turf war, and maybe you were just overthinking everything from earlier. All these maybes.

He lifts your chin with his fingers, looking for a knowing comfort in your eyes. That look where you know and believe in him. Your eyes dart before meeting his. He sees uncertainty. He doesn't know what to think of it, and just tries to reason to himself that you're worried for him as a wife and concerned.

You numbly nod, a soft "Okay" leaving your lips.

"Hate to break up this lover's bid farewell moment, but Cap were on a time schedule." Tony chirps, Nat instantly jabbing him in his stomach for his nonchalance. "Ow Nat." "Read. The. Room." she grits through her teeth, as Tony soothes his stomach slightly.

You two look to the group at the entrance, nodding before turning to each other again. "I love you Y/N. I'll be back. Promise." Steve says, holding up your hand and kissing it. You feel the heaviness in your heart and in your words, unsure and unaware for what will follow after this. "I love you too Steve." You return, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. He hugs you tight and returns the kiss, savoring it and giving more passion into it than he has of late. He's certain it wouldn't be his last, as surely, he'd return in a few days.

He parts from the kiss first, caressing your cheek again with his hand and kissing your forehead before leaving and heading towards the entrance with everyone else.

He approaches Bucky, who with the newfound information, understands his need to go but still is worried for his best friend. "If anything happens here Buck..." Steve starts off, placing one hand on Bucky's shoulder. "Protect her, no matter the cost. No matter what you do, look after her." He says, entrusting Bucky to look after you. Bucky looks at you, who has Nat now comforting you. Bucky looks back at Steve, nodding his head. "I'll protect her. No matter what." Bucky promised. Steve believes it, if not, knows it. He thinks it won't come to that, but as a safety measure, he has to know you're taken care of. You are the most precious thing in the world to him. Whatever it means that you're safe and good, that's what matters to him. He knows you'll be good in Bucky's care.

The two best friends hug, and Nat rejoins the group and they begin their trek towards their locker rooms to prepare.

They leave in the Quinjet at 2:25 pm.

—

9:38pm.

It had been a couple hours since Steve had left. Communication had cut off about an hour into their departure, the signal not reaching far enough. If needed, you could contact him through the emergency line, but there was no reason to extort through those extremes.

You resorted yourself to you and Steve's bedroom, looking through old pictures of you two and little keepsakes you guys kept for years, nursing a glass of wine; this being your 4th full glass. There was a heavy pang in your chest for how you felt earlier. And as unjustified you felt for having felt that, you couldn't shake it off. You look at the pictures of your wedding day and the reception. His smile is so wide and bright, his eyes so filled with adoration. You wonder when was the last time he full on genuinely did that with 100% of him.

Placing your wine on your bedside table, you wrap up this box and begin to place it back on the top of your closet shelf where it was, when then, you notice something you never saw before. There's a metal glint in the far back of it. You saw it for a brief second, but knew it was there. You're tipsy, maybe a little bit more than you want to admit, but certainly not that drunk yet.

On slightly wavering feet, you grab a stool from your vanity. You place it in front of the closet, standing in it and nearly falling before stabilizing yourself. You're eye to eye with the top shelf, and realize you never actually saw what it looked like up here, only Steve did. And there was never a need to, it was for old memories and scrapbooks, but you two haven't looked at those in ages.

You extend your hand, wobbling slightly but still finding an unsure balance. You grab what you were looking for, and take it out.

Your heart sinks to your chest as you recognize what it was.

A compass.

You don't need to open it to know who was in it. A rush of emotions overcome you.

He had told he threw it out the first week you guys began your relationship, which was over 4 years ago now. And to make matters worse..

There wasn't a spec of dust on it compared to everything else up there.

*Knock. Knock.*

The sudden noise throws you off and you lose balance and fall off the stool, a big thud ringing through the room. "Y/N?! You ok??" You hear Bucky call out from behind the door, but it's ignored as you groan from the pain of the harsh landing.

"I'm coming in." You hear Buck say. You tried to protest, not wanting him to see you in this state, but the door begins to open already. Dammit, you forgot to unlock it when you entered; probably too overwhelmed with everything to notice.

Bucky enters and notices you on the floor and instantly rushes to you, noticing the stool, open closet, and nearby wine and puts it together in his head. "Doll what are you doing to yourself?" he asks softly, hoisting you up and sitting you down.  You try to fight it though, but the moment you stand back up the sharp pain in your back shoots through you. You collapse again, this time accidentally knocking over the wine causing it to land on your sheets and onto the floor. "Hey hey! Take it easy, you probably landed on that stool when you fell." Bucky says, sitting you back down, this time you relent. "Now, tell me what happened?" He asks more soothingly, holding onto your back and hand. You hiccup, and sniff. "I wass looking through our photos and was sad..." you jumble together. "He looked sooo happy here James." You say. Bucky is slightly taken back by the use of his first name, but he doesn't express it. You never call him James.

You smiled at the picture but frowned after. "Buuut he don't seem that happy anymore with mee.." you mutter, starting to get weepy eyed. Bucky frowns, it aches him to see you sad. "Well I'm sure he does Y/N, it's just been a stressful time." Bucky suggests, but genuinely, he has no clue why Steve has been distant. He noticed it slightly, but didn't bother to much to look into it as it wasn't his business to get into. "Oh yeah...?" You trail off, blindly looking with one hand for what you dropped. "Then whasss thiss?" You say, holding up the compass to Buck.

Bucky instantly is taken back. He frowns immediately at the sight. He knows that compass, hell anyone in America knows that compass. It's Peggy's compass.

He thought Steve had gotten rid of that long ago.

"When I found it, no dust. Not a spec! Poof, nothing, nada" you ramble, dropping the compass in his hand and feeling the alcohol warm your cheeks.

Bucky, still in shock, feels a big disappointment in his best friend. He shouldn't still have this. He's upset at Steve, not more so of personal, but he's upset for you. Steve should've gotten rid of that a long time ago, and if what you say is true, why doesn't it have any dust on it whatsoever?

Bucky, getting out of his own head, looks over to you who has your knees tucked and your arms holding them close to your chest. His heart melts, and he's hurt by it. Anyone but you should be this sad.

"Doll, look I can't tell you why he has it still. I thought he didn't have it either. But..." Bucky contemplated his next words. Steve is his best friend, and although Steve is wrong for this and Bucky will bring this up next time he saw him, you're still Steve's wife. And Bucky would never want to bad mouth Steve to his wife.

"...but, I know he does love you." Bucky reassured. You didn't lift your head up, and Bucky wanted you to know what he said was true. He lifted your head with his metal hand, cupping your cheek softly to meet his gaze. Meeting your teary eyes, he felt a pang in his heart. A feeling he couldn't describe, but as quick as it came, as quick as it was gone.

"He loves you Y/N. And he wouldn't trade you for the world." He said, and though he tried his most genuine and sincerest, it didn't seem to ease you completely. He sighed, giving you an unsure look before glancing around the place. Your bed was soaked with wine, and the glass that had fallen off and broke on the floor, luckily not near both of you.

You definitely can't stay here in your drunken state.

Usually he'd call in Natasha for this kind of help, but she was out and as well as the next best option, Wanda.

"Buckkk..." He glanced back down at you and kneeled down. "Yes doll?" He answered, watching you grovel and lean into him. It took him off guard, but he didn't want to push you off. "I'm tired. I don't want to be awakey right now. I juss don't wanna think bout this" you slurred. He nodded his head. Thinking of what he could do, but remembering that Steve told him to make sure you're protected.

He thought of an idea, and thought it would work, at least for right now.

"Hey doll, would you be ok sleeping in my room for tonight?" He asked carefully. It was better than the couch downstairs. There was no guest rooms at the compound up for availability, and Wanda's and Nat's room were left locked after their departure. He figured he could sleep on the floor like how he used to. That way he's there keeping an eye on you.

You numbly nod, and try to stand but still on wobbly knees. Bucky catches you, and wraps one of your hands around his shoulder and tucks his hand around your back. He helps carry you to his room which is luckily right next door. He holds the door open for both of you, turning on the light and closing the door after. He picks you up fully, you hiccuping but slowly letting the fatigue subdue you. He lists his covers and places you on the center of the mattress, taking off your shoes carefully and setting them against the bed.  He places the sheet over you, and you snuggle yourself in.

He sighs as he worries for you. He never saw you like this before. But he's content he's keeping his promise to Steve, who he is still upset for about the compass. Steve had lied to everyone about it. And Bucky always treated Steve with honesty.

Bucky quietly grabbed his clothes from his drawer for his nightly shower. As he opened the door, he heard you softly call out. "Thanksss Buckk." He gave a small smile and turned to you. Your eyes were closed and you were half turned away from him. "Of course doll. Sleep well, I'll be back soon." He said, you humming softly as a response before snuggling yourself more into the bed.

It smelled like wood musk and eucalyptus. A very strong masculine smell. But it was warm, and may it be you being drunk, it felt like the softest mattress in the world.

Bucky closed the door and made his way to the showers. He was alone in the big room, undressing himself inside one of the showers, taking everything off but his dog tags and folding everything neatly. He turned on the shower, letting the cold water wash over him. He felt worried for you, and already worried for Steve despite the small aggression lingering.

Bucky never heard of no terrorist group that could take over entire governments in a singular day. It just... wasn't possible. He would've known about it. It struck him as wrong... but it was late and he didn't want to think on it longer than needed, wanting to get back to you and make sure you were ok.

He wraps up and dries himself, eventually dressing in grey sweats and a black beater.

He comes back to his room and settles himself down on the floor with a spare blanket and pillow. 

He eventually falls asleep around 11:17 pm.

—

New York's first contact happens at 3:36 am, September 28th.

END OF CHAPTER.

➽────────────────────❥

tag list <3

@buckystevelove @frombkjar

[wildglitch]

So like- Since I (not canonically to the au) put Hope, Matt, and Bucky in a queerplatonic poly relationship. And have them as "Peters Parents", here how it kinda goes

Hope

Role: Mom (Leader)

Meaning: She acts like a mother figuer to Peter being the one he listens to and leans on during the apoclypse. She's the only one that grounds him and gets away with it. They all know she reminds him of his aunt but that fine, as long as he gets confort and support she'll be there.

Affects: Peter ends up being a lot more open to the female heros and listens to their orders very easily, because they now remind him of Hope. A lot of the science stuff and hand to hand combat she taught him sticks around and helps him during his times of need.

Status: Decesed.

(Achivement unlocked: The dead anime mom)

Matt

Role: Dad (Teacher)

Meaning: Matt teaches and mentors Peter a lot during his their time in the apocolyps, teaching him how to hone his senses and his stealth, along with a few boxing and legal lessons. They bond over being the only guys in the group that are looking after the little guys and going out everyday, giving Peter a place of belonging and confort for the fellow vigilante

Affects: Peter adapts to Gotham a lot faster then he would have if he wasnt trained by his universe version of the dark kight. The bats are confused and impressed by the spiders skills amd are more determend to catch the rouge that seems to be able to hide from Batman and his birds. Hes also vey quick to defend himself whenever they question him, which would even put the best Laywers to shame

Status: Dead (in one version of the au)

Alive in Arkham asylum (in another)

(Achivements unlocked: The sensei always dies and My dad is mentally ill)

Bucky (Grandpa)

Meaning: Bucky is the first one to find Peter after his months alone and they live together just the two of them for quite a bit before finding the others. Their roommates, they train together and rip at eachother. Peter reminds Bucky of steve but better, and Bucky reminds Peter of his uncle in a weird way, the Brooklyn accent bringing confort to the kid. My au has them being related by mutation which brings them closer and Bucky teaches him how to handle diffrent wepons and old codes and training he got from the army.

Affects: Peters quips as Spider-Man become sharper and darked, mixing the quick dad jokes with edge he has learned from months of sassing Bucky. He as better strength control and is well equiped to deal with tramatized civilians (and heros). He becomes more diverse in his skill range which allows him to join more mission when he works with either the bats of the league.

Status: Alive. Where? Ha, wouldnt you like to know weather boy

(Achivement unlocked: My grandpa off somewhere and I'm concerned for the public)

People change people, this is how I think the parental figures changed Peter. Not by much, but here just a little bit to the left if you know what I mean.