#winter soldier and bucky barnes are separate personalities

[bukatra]

What tag lets me see posts about Bucky Barnes and Winter Soldier being separate distinct personalities that inhabit the same body in something similar to Dissociative Identity Disorder? I can't be the only one who headcanons that, right?

[gh0stsssss]

my friend and i have just talked for about 8 hours almost consecutively about how hot Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier is. best conversation i have ever had.

@ritvr

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Finally

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Spy!Reader

Plot: Bucky and you have a hard time staying away from each other. And though you try to push him away, every time he finds you again, the universe finds a new way to pull you apart.

Warnings: 18+. Smut, fluff and angst.

Words: 9,1OO

A/N: Recently I’ve been trying to understand what it is people want to read of my works and I have no idea, so here is my brain in scrambled pieces. I'm so sorry it’s so long, I swear it's worth it!

Romania.

It isn’t often you agree to such an extensive trip to meet up with one of your clients, but apparently this particular one can’t be seen in the more supervised countries. Besides, you’ve never been to Bucharest before, so you’re quite enjoying your drink at the small picturesque café.

You’ve done your research and know damn well who you’re meeting up with. A small part of you is screaming at you not to agree to do business with him or back out now, but your curiosity overrules any common sense. Last you heard, Hydra had lost their favourite asset and you can confidently say you were relieved to hear it. It had been a few too many times that specific organisation had made your job more difficult than it had to be.

A many number of things could have happened to the Winter Soldier. He could’ve been killed, corrupted by another organisation, fled to live as a hermit– You really want to know. It’s the spy in you that enjoys knowing the ins and outs of the criminal world. He’d tried not to mention who he is, but you had a few offers on the table, he needed some leverage to get you to agree to meet him. Safe to say, you were surprised he’d told you he was the Winter Soldier. Big chance you will now be the only person to know about the asset’s current whereabouts. That is, if you live to tell it of course…

Every hair in your neck stands up straight, despite the comfortable weather and the easy going crowd roaming the street. The sudden change in atmosphere has your spy senses stand on alert. Your spine stiffens and you casually look around, slightly discouraged at the way your body has never responded to anything in this particular manner.

You cross your legs and turn to look behind you, scanning every face in the crowd. When you turn back, the seat next to yours is taken, only a rickety metal table separating you from the large man sat in the other chair. Your breath halts in your throat and you look him up and down, instantly recognising the buff man as the Winter Soldier. How? You’re not sure, you’d never really seen a picture.

You check his hands. Gloves. With this weather? To cover up. You check his build and take a particularly long time to do so, because God, this man is broad. He’s all sturdy flesh and muscle, firm and casual. His thighs look like tree trunks and you know the man is fast, despite his build. You force the deliberate sweep of your eyes over his body to appear more nonchalant and confident than you feel.

Then your eyes reach his face and the breath gets knocked out of you. There is nothing in that face that hints towards a stone cold killer. Dark blue, deep set eyes, freckles pattered over his nose and cheeks, lips bitten raw from contemplation and an expression on his face that almost looks like… Nerves?

“Hello,” you start carefully, unable to keep your surprise from your tone, but sounding relatively cool to your own relief.

“Hi,” he says and the tone of his voice is deep, but rough, like he hasn’t spoken in ages. You think that maybe he hasn’t.

“Should I refer to you as the Winter Soldier?” you ask, composing your cool nature entirely now. “Or would you say that is a bit on the nose?”

He huffs a laugh and you smile, feeling the overwhelming urge to make him do that again. “James will do, thanks.”

“Alright James,” you say, taking your time to let your mouth get acquainted with his name, “what is it you need my services for?”

“I hear you’re a spy,” he starts and searches your face. “A good one– the best one.”

“Well now, I’d hate to disappoint,” you purr. “What do you need?”

“It’s not so much a document or one piece of information,” he mumbles and his face hardens as he collects himself. You sit upright and frown as you study him. “I need you as a partner for an assignment.”

You instantly shake your head, “Absolutely not. I’m not working for Hydra, that organisation is–”

“Not Hydra,” he quickly cuts in. “Just me. It’s a personal assignment.”

You wait for him to continue, not appreciating his vague communication if he wants to become partners on whatever this is.

He sighs, “I– I have a lot of… gaps. Things I don’t remember, things I can’t quite place. Years of information. The things I did for Hydra– I wasn’t there for most of it. Neither were a lot of people. So I need someone with access to some dark shit to help me figure it out.”

Chewing your lip, you process the information he gives you and empathy clenches your heart together. James gives you the time you need to put the pieces together. You’d heard of Hydra’s experiments with brainwashing and had already sort of assumed some of their soldiers had only worked for them because of that reason, had stayed far away from the organisation’s shit to steer clear from that danger.

But it’s so different to see it in real life, or what is left of it, you suppose. Many things aren’t quite clear to you just yet. However, you slowly start nodding your head. Your brain starts running a million miles an hour, all the gears turning to form a plan, the way you always do before you agree to a job.

“Can you pay me for the service?” you ask, already wondering to yourself if you’d help the clearly hopeless and damaged man for free, and to be honest, just for kicks. The things you’d dig up from everything he’ll give you– Selfishly, you’d kill for it. Anyone would kill for it.

He gives you a tight-lipped, apologetic smile, “Not that much. But I can save up more.”

You think. Your gut tells you he won’t kill you after he gets what he wants, even though he could. And though you will always keep a close eye on him and everything he’s capable of, your gut feeling has never disappointed you.

So you sigh and shake your head. “That’s okay. I’ll do all of it for free, and you can pay me what little you have to insure that I stay quiet. Sound fair?”

His eyes narrow with a twinkle that you hadn’t expected from a man like him and he says, “Deal.”

“Alright,” you say and finish your coffee before clearing your throat. “First order of business: tell me your full name.”

He shakes his head with a faint smile, “James Buchanan Barnes.”

Oh shit.

You do know him.

Germany.

Relief seeps into your bones as you cross the threshold of your building and you slip into your routine of coming home. Tired feet drag you through your building and to your apartment, and muscle memory unlocks your door. After the week you’ve had, you are ready to turn off your brain and settle down.

You enjoy being this tired though, revel in it. Exhausting yourself with a normal person job and the way it puts your usually restless body to sleep at night is exactly what you wanted for your life.

One step into your own hallway, however, makes your daydream of a quiet night in crumble to your feet. Something is off. You can blame your trained senses for being so instantly on edge, but the apartment you just stepped into isn’t a place that has been vacated for the past nine hours. This apartment isn’t empty.

An even older routine settles into your bones this time and you creep into your home on light feet. The air is warm and the space is completely quiet. You’ve been alive long enough, seen enough, to know quiet is never good.

You don’t turn on any lights and let your eyes adjust to the dark. Ears perked and muscles at the ready to spring into action, you slowly make your way further into your home. And when you slip around the corner and look into your darkened living room, you let out a frustrated sigh at the dark figure lounging on your couch.

“How did you find me here,” you grumble and it is hardly a question.

You can feel him sit up and tune in to your presence. You couldn’t explain it if your life depended on it, but you instantly knew who it was. The dark figure in the dark apartment, waiting patiently for someone to catch him. After all, he will deny it until his dying day, but he does have an awful lot of dramatic flair for someone so stoic.

“Better question is: why are you here?” he counters and you drop your bag onto one of your dining chairs, shooting him an unimpressed glare. “Trying to stay off the radar, are you?”

“And failing, clearly,” you say before he can say it for you. “How did you find me here, James?”

Your eyes are finally fully adjusted and you see the smirk forming on his face. You haven’t seen that smirk in five years. “I have my ways,” he says and pushes off the couch, adjusting his leather jacket. “Now, what are you doing in this abandoned town?”

“It’s not abandoned,” you counter and slip off your coat, deciding to just go about your old routine and ignore his presence as much as you can. Maybe then he’ll go away.

“It’s a shit town and you know it.” He cocks his head at you, eyes tracking all of your movements.

You notice his puzzled look. He’s genuinely wondering what is left of his old ally and you can’t quite blame him. Perhaps he can easily see your lame attempt at finding a normal life for yourself. He has probably tried a thousand times himself to escape the roaring life of saving the world, has probably failed every time, too. But you’re determined to make it work – make yourself normal and live a full life.

And that is all you were to him anyway, just an ally. The entire time, you’d felt that he paid a little too much attention to you, but you supplied critical information and occasionally wiped someone off the map. A spy. Nothing more, nothing less. However, for the infamous Winter Soldier to need your alliance again, you cannot help but feel wary.

After the first time he approached you, you’d spent months together. It was an effort not to grow too close – too much effort. Because you had. It was impossible not to, helping someone literally piece their life together through intimate and awful memories. Digging through protective walls and coping mechanisms to help him rebuild some of his life again. With a lot of reluctance from both of you.

Yes, you’d grown close then. Grown close enough that you fell asleep slumped over the kitchen counter in his awful Romanian apartment, your face sticking to the countless research papers. You’d woken up hours later on his poorly constructed bed on the floor with a blanket thrown over your frame. Close enough that you’d eventually asked him to assist you on your missions. Ones that required a different skillset than your own. Close enough that you cooked for each other, sometimes shared clothes, roasted one another for the mental health issues that lead you both to your current occupations.

After a while, you couldn’t describe your relation to Barnes in any other way than a partnership. Partners. Who had kissed once. Maybe twice. After some bad Vodka.

You sigh and turn to him, “Why are you here, James?”

“I need to lay low for a while.” A wider smirk, his eyes narrowing at you. “I remembered I know someone who is very good at that.”

“Careful,” you warn and roll your eyes. “You just gave me a compliment.”

His smirk turns to a smile and he shrugs off his own jacket, instantly making himself at home in your apartment. A strange thing when it comes to Bucky, since you don’t recall that man feeling at home anywhere. Then, he did always have this incessant cocky streak around you and he is awfully good at getting on your nerves, so he probably sees the perfect opportunity to be a pain in the ass.

“If you so much as sneeze on anything, I swear–”

“Yeah, yeah,” he cuts in, his tone unimpressed. “You’ll skin me alive. You’re always so weird about your stuff.”

You give him a tiny proud smile and decide to make yourself something quick to eat, only to feel him peer at you from the edge of your kitchen. He’s met with a confused frown before you raise your brows at him to make him spit it out.

“What’s the catch?” he asks warily.

You smile and look down at the sandwich you’re making. “Nothing. Just fix your shit and get out of my hair as quickly as possible.”

He winces slightly and you turn to him fully now, slowly taking a bite.

“What.”

Bucky sucks in a short breath and gives you an apologetic look before he speaks, “It might be a while…”

Your brows drop, “What did you do?”

“Nothing, I–”

“Bucky.” You cut him another look, one shaped by many, many instances of working together. “What. Did. You. Do.”

“It’s not important. I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

You open your mouth to continue arguing with him, but decide against it, already done with his shit. Yes, he is doing better and supposedly now qualifies as a good person. But you know the man before you and the soldier cannot stop himself from lying about pretty much everything. He has damaged tendencies. Give him an inch and he will take a mile, show him a weakness and he will exploit it. You genuinely think he doesn’t know how to be different, how to not abuse those effortless skills he trained all those years working for Hydra and surviving it.

“It’s my weekend off,” you tell him instead. “If you get between me and my plans, I will change the locks.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “You think I can’t get through a simple lock?”

Another glare is his answer and he raises his hands in surrender. You walk around him and toe off your own shoes, grabbing everything to take a shower as you shove the rest of your sandwich in your mouth. Bucky slowly strolls through your place and examines everything that belongs to you.

“Can you not pretend like you haven’t completely scanned the place already before I got home?” you ask him as you make way for the bathroom.

“It can’t hurt to have a second look,” he mumbles, but you have already closed the door and move take the shower you’ve been looking forward to the entire day.

You should probably work harder to get him out, should probably make an escape plan and move somewhere else. But you know arguing with him is futile and the best approach with him is to patiently wait for him to move on. Bucky doesn’t get attached and doesn’t nest, so he’ll be gone soon enough.

As the scalding water trickles down your scalp and spine, you realise how much more alert you should have been when you noticed someone was in your home. Especially with all of those loose ends and enemies you have scattered across this planet (and others). Yet, somehow you think your body knew it was Bucky waiting for you. After all, it isn’t the first time he’s pulled this shit, waiting up for you. Usually because you kept something from him, he found out and would start ambushing you to fess up.

And even though technically, you haven’t exactly kept anything from him this time, you can’t ignore the dreadful feeling that explaining your current situation will be the hardest thing to ever speak up about. How pathetic, to try and live a normal life when you’re ‘extraordinary’. Ugh, you hate that word. You’re trained well and you refuse to be anything but good at what you put your mind at.

Now, Bucky. He is extraordinary. He has potential to make a difference. You have always felt that. Hated working with him because of that. Not because of him – he never made you feel less than him at all. But–

The water turns cold and you groan audibly, time having slipped away from you as you got lost in thought. Stepping out and drying yourself off, you get ready to walk out of the bathroom. You’re met with Bucky sitting on your couch, reading one of your books.

“Let me guess, warm water’s gone?” he asks, not looking up from the book.

You walk to your bedroom and shrug, “Cold showers are good for you, I heard.”

“I suppose I’ll take the couch then?” he asks, finally looking up from the book.

You turn back and peek through your doorway at him. “You can take the floor if that’s more comfortable for you.”

“We’ve shared a bed before.”

“Not by choice.”

He smirks, “You liked it.”

“You snore.”

“Sleep tight, sweetheart.” He grins at you.

You make to get to bed when you pause and turn back to him once more with a slight frown. “Why are you so cheerful? Aren’t there people after you?”

“Well,” he says, casual as always, “these may very well be my last days, so I might as well be in a good mood.”

You find yourself swallowing hard and desperately search his face for any intel on how true his statement is, without giving away that you might just care a little bit about his well-being. But his grin stays firm in place and he raises his brows in wait for you to call it a night.

Without another word, you close the door between you and crawl into your comfortable bed. And you wonder why it is that you can’t quite get comfortable this time.

…

A powerful jolt rips through your body as you lift out of layers of sleep. You’re too tired for whatever made you wake up so suddenly. It’s too goddamn late for this shit.

But as you gain more and more of your consciousness, your senses start perking up and you realise you might very well be in danger. The gentle and calm voice calling your name with a warm stroke of a hand down your arm, confirms that for you. That specific type of calm in Bucky’s voice sends your body into overdrive.

“We’ve got to go, sweetheart,” he murmurs and is already throwing clothes onto your bed. “Now.”

You sit up and rub your eyes and it dawns on you after a week of Bucky staying at your place. This man wasn’t going to leave you until he got chased out of your apartment. And that day has come.

“Bucky,” you start with a hoarse voice as you climb out of your warm bed and quickly throw on the clothes he picked for you, “who the fuck is after you?”

He takes his time to answer, pulling two fully packed backpacks from the corner of your room that you surprisingly didn’t know he hid there. Oh, this man is going to get an ear full about this bullshit.

“Some weird underground cartel that deals in tech or something,” he grumbles and throws you a pack. You are nearly too slow to catch it before you sling it onto your back. You gape at him after his answer and his face stays solemn as he pushes a hand gun into your hands. “Let’s go.”

“Bucky.”

He stops and turns to you fully. “It’s bad, okay? I’ll tell you later.”

“No. Tell me now.”

He groans out your name, peeking outside while he impatiently chews on his lip. “Don’t do this right now. You can be pissed at me later!”

“I will be pissed at you now,” you seethe, “and later. How about that?!”

He sighs and then grabs your arm, giving you a boyish grin before shooting two bullets through your window, breaking the glass, slinging an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him and jumping out of the fucking window with you clinging to him. It’s only when you fly about five stories down, that you realise the two of you are attached to a bungee rope that eases your descent. His feet touch the ground first, yours following. He cuts the rope and grabs your hand before he starts running towards the parking lot beneath your building.

“Bucky, you piece of shit!” you yell at him as you run, hearing the faint sound of gun fire behind you over the sound of your ragged breathing.

“I’ll make it up to you!” he simply yells back.

You can hear the smile in his voice. And the worst thing? You feel yourself smiling as well when you realise how easily you’ve slipped back into being his partner in crime.

…

Bucky checks one more time, his gleaming metal hand pulling the sheer curtain aside to peer out onto the dark streets. You hear some shouting coming from outside and still feel your heart pounding, even when you know you have definitely outrun those people coming after you. You hate how out of practice you are. And how much you missed the adrenaline of being on the run with Bucky.

He turns back to you and finds you with your arms crossed, glaring at him. Oh, you know the perfect way to let out this adrenaline. There might be actual steam coming out of your ears.

Bucky cringes and slowly strolls over, already reaching out his hands to use his irresistible charm on you. Like the time he dropped the cake you made one afternoon and tried to make it up to you. Or that time he left some very important documents in one of the buildings he set on fire. Or the time he accidentally deleted your recordings off the TV when you had been looking forward to watching the next episode for two weeks.

However, your burning eyes stop him dead in his tracks and he opens his mouth to say something, then decides against it and closes his mouth again. A second later, he tries again, “Okay. Give it to me.”

You give him a satisfied, albeit sadistic smile, at his willingness to take your scolding and then, you start yelling. You have no idea what words specifically are rolling off your tongue, but your speech starts somewhere during that first meeting in Bucharest, drifts to your entire time together as partners, how you drifted apart, only for him to show up whenever he pleased, and you continue to how he stood at your door a little over a week ago, to him terrorising your happy little life in Germany… To now.

Your voice rises with every instance you tell him about, fire burning in your core and hands flailing to give your story that much more power (even though you couldn’t stop your conviction if you tried). As the grin on his face grows through your rambling, a metal hand pressing to his lips to stop it from showing too much, you burn even brighter with fury.

Then you stop, breathing heavily. You give him a withering look to get him to start speaking up, because let’s be honest, all the two of you really needed was only just a look.

His shoulders slowly stop shaking and he drops his hand, eyes sparkling like a glass of Prosecco in the light. Devious asshole. “I just– I haven’t seen you this alive in a while. It looks fantastic on you.”

You gape at him like a fish and you wonder if the warmth in your face still belongs to your anger. Though you fear it belongs to quite the opposite. Either way, this man certainly knows how to make you passionate. And you realise he knows what you have been trying to do with your fake little life here in Germany.

“I don’t think you–”

“I’m sorry,” he says and steps forward, his large hands cupping your face as he looks down at you with earnest eyes. “I’m sorry for making your life so goddamn miserable. So tell me how to make it up to you.”

And for all the world, you can tell he means it. Can tell that he will do anything to make it up to you. You can almost feel the squeeze of pain in your own heart when you see the disappointment in his eyes after he realises you didn’t enjoy this as much as he had.

But the worst part is, is that you did. You’ve never felt more alive than with him. Never felt more like you. You wouldn’t necessarily call him an adventurer, maybe he is just a magnet for trouble. But whenever you’re with Bucky, you’ll drop anything for him and you’ll burn like an inferno doing so. He makes you into the best version of yourself and he makes you love the parts about yourself that you have been conditioned to feel guilty about.

You sigh, “I don’t know. Never mind.”

He doesn’t let go though and searches your eyes, his own narrowing in suspicion. “I’m going to make it up to you, you know.”

You cross your arms and give him an unimpressed look. “Yeah? How?”

He smirks and your knees weaken. “I could kiss it better.”

“Shameless flirt,” you huff and roll your eyes as an excuse to break his intense stare on you.

“You’re just too proud to admit that my kisses would make you forgive me,” he prods and your eyes snap back to his. He’s right, that is pride surging in your chest to lunge at him.

“You’ve grown too cocky for your own good,” you sneer at him.

“You like it.”

“I assure you, I don’t.”

“Liar.”

“Manipulator.”

He feigns hurt, “Ouch.”

You huff a laugh with a roll of your eyes, “Such a fragile ego.”

He smirks again and you swallow as you fight to look at his lips. So close to your own. “Now you have to kiss me for forgiveness.”

You can’t help but truly laugh this time, your face still safely tucked in his palms and his brows raise with intrigue at the sound of your laughter.

You tell him, “You are so full of shit.”

His smile fades, his eyes large with earnest and all of a sudden, it’s the man standing before you that sat next to you in that Romanian café. Stripped down, bare, rough, and perhaps a bit vulnerable.

“Let me kiss you,” he says in merely a whisper now.

You fight for your life not to falter to that genuine request and the way he said it. “It won’t make me forgive you,” you say softly, but barely hear your own voice over the increased pounding of your heart in your throat.

“I don’t care,” he murmurs. “Just want to kiss you.”

He doesn’t wait for your permission either, because quite frankly, you most likely gave him a look of permission instantly at that request. His soft lips slot over yours and you could’ve never predicted the depraved moan that resounded in the back of your throat as your mouths meet. Your hands instantly slip into his hair as Bucky’s hands slide around your waist to pull you closer, fingers digging into your flesh possessively.

The kiss deepens when his tongue meets yours and he lets out a groan of his own, a sound so addicting that you instinctively tug on his hair to hear it again. The laugh against your lips is rough as he hauls you closer and changes the kiss. Something more desperate and impatient. Something hot and sweaty and slightly messy. You might be walking as Bucky finds something to press you up against or lay you down on, and you almost squawk in surprise as you fall back onto the double, motel bed.

Though before you can say anything else, Bucky is on you again, his mouth demanding and greedy against yours. His hands feel and grab and squeeze every inch of you and you grind your hips upward for his weight. You want his heaviness between your hips and on your stomach and against your chest.

Growing impatient, convinced that Bucky’s brain might no longer be working, you lock your ankles around his hips and pull him down between your legs, sighing a groan of relief at the feeling of him tucked against you so warmly.

“God dammit,” he grunts and gives one luxurious roll of his hips against yours, making you whine as your pulse hammers down in your core.

His mouth grazes against your neck now and you can hardly breathe, panting as if you’ve run a marathon. The pressure between your hips leaves as he moves further down and you buck your hips at the ache he leaves.

“Bucky,” you whimper and look down, heart slamming in your throat at the sight of him. He messily yet gently makes his way down your body. Hands roughly pushing up your shirt as his lips find the plane of your stomach, kissing from your bra, down to your hips that you can’t seem to keep still.

Your body feels so heavy, yet so light without him on top of you and you can’t remember any moment before this kiss. Before five minutes ago. Everything is solidified. Your entire history with him. And Bucky presses a kiss just below your navel that confirms that feeling, his hands peeling off your jeans. That is until he speaks.

“Listen to me,” he orders and you freeze at the sound of him. He’s only sounded like that during missions where either of you might die. So serious and detrimental. “Don’t ever try to build a life without me again.”

“Bucky–”

“No,” he snaps and you close your mouth. “Don’t ever pretend like we don’t exist. Like you and I aren’t supposed to do this shit together, like you are better off without me, like I am better off without you. That’s bullshit.” You give him a questioning look. Where is this coming from? “I’m going to kiss you and you are going to forgive me. And then I am going to kiss you some more.”

He waits then. For you to answer, to process what it is he is saying exactly. It’s a lot of words with a lot of meaning, yet you’re not sure if this is the declaration you didn’t know you were waiting for.

So you speak from your gut and let out a breath, “Finally.”

Bucky smiles at that and surges upward, clearly happy with that intuitive answer. His lips claim yours once again and then you feel his fingers inching up your thigh.

You whine softly against his lips and you feel him smile as his fingers reach your drenched core. Two fingers slip through your folds to explore your wetness and Bucky drops his head into the crook of you neck.

“Finally indeed,” he breathes and slips his middle finger into you, making you whimper and buck your hips.

The stretch against your swollen walls sends an ache through your abdomen that cries out for more. You cannot explain the desperation to have him, to have every empty pit of you filled with his essence. His finger curls up and you throw your head back, making Bucky raise his own head to look at you.

“There?”

You nod frantically and Bucky pushes in another finger, making you tense up around him. He curls that one too and you don’t recognise the sound spilling from your lips. You’re already so fucking full.

As Bucky teasingly darts his thumb over your swollen clit, he traces his tongue over your mouth and you gasp for air at the sensation.

“Bucky, fuck!” you cry and he pushes his mouth to yours in a claiming kiss, his fingers moving faster as his thumb rotates over your clit. You can barely kiss him back, overtaken by pleasure as he pumps his fingers over and over until you can hear your wetness surround his sinful digits.

It is by far the hottest thing you have ever experienced. So much time has passed and now this beast of a man who tries everything to make you blush with his flirty persona, is bent over you with his fingers peeling your pleasure to the surface like his own fucking release depends on it.

His chest is heaving from watching you, brows pulled together, eyes dark as they rake over you hungrily, muscles flexing as his hand disappears between your legs.

His leg slips beneath your knee and pulls your leg up to finger you in a different angle and your nails bury themselves in the muscles of Bucky’s neck, abdomen flexing at the wave of pleasure that courses through you. “More. Oh my God, more!”

“I know, I can feel it,” he grunts and slows his fingers. “But I’ve waited ages for this. I refuse to let it be over so soon.”

Your brain is nothing but cinders and you shake your head violently, “No! No, please. You can have everything, just let me come. Please.”

Bucky pecks your lips. Once. Twice.

“You want to come all over my hand, pretty girl?” he murmurs in your ear and you can only gasp at the press of his fingers against your spot. “Can I lick you up after?”

You clench around him like a vice, his low voice making you drip onto his palm, his words incinerating what is left of your pride. You can only nod, so you do. And his hand starts moving again. Faster, deeper, more thorough. You keep nodding, your moans raising, your pleasure retreating like a snake ready to strike. Oh God, oh God, oh God–

“Come.”

Your hips fly to the ceiling when you come, thighs trembling and closing around his hand. Bucky keeps moving and thrusting and curling until he has wrung all of your pleasure from your body and you feel like you’re made of jelly. Your voice is hoarse from yelling your release and the sheets below are drenched with your desire.

Soft kisses are pressed to your face and that is how you return from whatever plane of existence you went to. His gentle laugh makes you shiver and you open your eyes to find him licking his fingers like there is caramel dripping from them. You swallow hard and zero in on that action, making his eyes sparkle.

But something changes when you reach up to stroke his hair and his eyes flutter. Your eyes rove over his face in admiration and your entire soul sighs at the sight of him. Bucky looks down at you curiously and cocks his head.

“What is it?” he asks and you chew your lip, trying to find the words.

“You and me, huh?” you murmur with something like wonder in your voice. Bucky can only nod. You continue, “Who would’ve thought…”

Bucky leans down and kisses you. Soft, slow, deep. It makes your body sing. And he shuffles back to make himself at home between your legs. Though as he does that, he remains his focus on kissing you. Deeper, more, desperate. Depraved. He moans and breathes and you swear you hear him whimper, his hips grinding over your oversensitive cunt as he gets lost in kissing you.

Raking your nails over his scalp, you once again wrap your legs around his hips and pull him down. And if Bucky hadn’t snapped his leash just yet, this does it. He turns wild and passionate and heavy. One hand of his and one hand of your own both reach down, messily working together to get rid of his jeans. He shimmies out of them, not bothering to get rid of them entirely, but bothering to at least take off his shirt.

Your fingers drag down his pecs and abdomen, trying to memorise every curve and edge with what little brain capacity you have left. You feel like no more than a flame, no more than passion and want and need. And when Bucky slides his bare cock through your folds to slicken himself, you shudder so violently, your breath shudders with it.

“Woman, you are going to kill me,” he breathes and nips at your lips.

You almost growl with impatience, “Then fuck me and die already.”

He laughs, bold and happy, before thrusting into you in a long stroke. Home. Oh fuck, he’s home. Both of you freeze, taking in the moment of being fused together before he slowly pulls out and out and out. And sliding back in with an agonizing thrust.

Something in you clicks. Something so vital, so necessary. And Bucky feels it too.

“Yes,” he groans and presses another kiss to your lips, like he can’t get enough. “This is it.”

You nod and close your eyes in pleasure. In relief. You shudder with emotion and clamp onto him. Bucky keeps pressing kisses to your skin. Your neck, your lips, your cheek, temple, forehead.

“This is it,” you choke out and Bucky smiles. “You’re it.”

Bucky breathes a sigh, as if he’s been waiting ages for you to admit it. “Finally.”

Infinity War.

Biting your lip and bouncing your leg, you try to let the rumble of the swift jet calm your nerves. Your eyes search the cabin and go over the confusing screens for the thousandth time.

“Nervous?” Natasha’s sensual voice sounds next to you and you force a smile.

“Why would I be nervous?” you ask and smirk at her. “We’re only stepping into a war with the probability of us winning being like…” Zero? Less than zero? You sigh, “I don’t want to think about that.”

She bites back her own smirk and raises her eyebrows. “Wasn’t talking about the war. Are you nervous about seeing him?”

Bucky.

You glare at her after quickly glancing around to see if anyone heard her, making Natasha try even harder to hold back a smile.

Yes, you were nervous to see him. So much had happened. So many aspects of your spy work had suddenly intermingled and now you are fighting along with the Avengers. Even after you were sure they had torn themselves apart over Bucky. Being caught in the middle of that had put you and Bucky’s relationship –if you could even call it that– so far to the back of both your minds, you barely had time to mention it to anyone until Steve shipped him off to Wakanda to get some real help.

You and Bucky were over before it even started and you think that maybe it’s for the better. Neither you nor Bucky are any good at that relationship shit anyway. It showed over and over.

Luckily enough, you’d found plenty of distraction being on the run with Sam, Natasha and Steve. No Bucky in sight, but knowing he was safe and taken care of. Private mission after mission with other people you cared about, people who didn’t know about you and Bucky, one of them eager to forget about Bucky himself.

You barely gave it any thought.

Except you thought of Bucky every day.

And now you get to see him again. However, if any time would make you reconsider any commitment at all, it would be now.

“No,” you answer and then turn serious. “I mean, I was. But now I’m just preparing myself for either grief, or death.”

“Are those our only options?” she asks with a displeased frown. “Why not prepare for victory or somethin’?”

Giving her a long and hard stare, you sigh deeply. “Yeah. You’re right. If I die, I might as well die hopeful.”

“That’s my girl,” she grins and you bump her shoulder with yours, finding your own smile breaking through.

That’s when Steve gives Sam the coordinates to fly through a barrier and show you the hidden – and beautiful – kingdom of Wakanda. So you ignore every jittery feeling you have in your stomach at possibly seeing Barnes again, and you channel it all into hope.

…

Natasha strokes her hand over your shoulder as you walk up to king T’Challa, who’s flanked by his closest guard and a palace that screams to get you on your knees to worship. You barely hear the conversation the king has with Steve, partly because you’re still in awe of the beautiful place around you.

Now this, this is a refuge.

“How are we lookin’?” Natasha asks from next to you and that’s when you start to pay attention. You’d need a hell of a lot of man-power to win this.

“You will have my Kings Guard,” T’Challa starts, “the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and…”

“A semi-stable hundred-year-old man,” finishes a voice that makes your entire system dysregulate. Oh God, it’s been so long since you’ve heard the warm timber of that voice.

You notice your hands have started shaking and clutch them behind your back, squeezing courage out of them to face your past, as Bucky Barnes walks up to hug Captain America.

“How’ve you been, Buck?” Steve asks and Bucky answers with a heart-stopping smile.

“Uh, not bad,” he answers, “for the end of the world.”

They share another warm look before Steve turns to everyone behind him and then to the king, “Should we prepare?”

A few minutes later, you’re following the king inside with all of his closest guards and your own team, which now includes Bucky. Focusing your eyes on everything around you, you barely notice the large hand slipping around your elbow and pulling you into another hallway.

You know better than to scream for help and you use the momentum to swing the person around and pin them to the nearest wall with a knife to their throat. But the air rushes from you when you stand face to face with Bucky.

“There she is,” he grins and slowly raises his hands in surrender.

You back away slowly and look at him like a gaping fish, your insides pounding and swirling and thrashing as your body heats with adrenaline. It’s him, it’s him, it’s him.

“New arm?” you ask him, your voice coming out surprisingly steady, and he glances at the appendage, flexing his hand between your faces.

“Yeah, you like it?” he asks and he almost sounds like a young boy, genuinely interested in what you think of it, of him.

And you calm. Everything inside of you settles and the heat turns to warmth. Your insides seem to melt with relief and you throw your arms around his neck, almost tipping over until Bucky’s arms automatically slide around your waist to pull your pliant body tightly against his. He’s so big and strong and warm.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” he laughs softly and one hand starts to stroke your hair gently as you huff out a sob into his neck. “Oh, sweet girl. You’ve never been sad to see me before.”

You finally pull back and cup his face as he lets you survey him closely, him grinning widely at the worry in your every feature. You breathe, “You’re good. You’re safe.”

He nods and takes your hands, pressing a kiss to your palm. “So are you,” he whispers and you nod.

“Not for long,” you add, deflated.

He gives you a sad smile. “Now, who would we be if we didn’t go down fighting, hm?”

You smile slightly at that. “Back on the same team.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and the planet stops turning.

“Finally.”

The Blip.

Another knock sounds and you roll your eyes, throwing on a quick cardigan as you hop over to your door. Unusual, for your quiet, lonely evenings to get interrupted like this. You’re ready to cash in what you can only assume is some complaining neighbour or your awful land lord when you open the door and are met with a familiar face that makes your heart squeeze together.

“Steve,” you breathe.

“Hey.”

You step aside to let him in and take a deep breath.

“Want something to drink?” you ask as you close the door behind him and let him venture into your home. Or, whatever you have tried to turn into your home. It had never been more than the latest home trends and some empty picture frames.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how I found you?” he asks and you get a feeling of déjà vu.

But you shake your head with a forced smile, “I left a trace for Natasha to track for emergencies. I know how you found me.” You give him a pointed look and Steve actually has the decency to look slightly apologetic.

That look tells you enough about how much of an emergency this is and you wonder what prompted Natasha to decipher your code and hand your location to the Captain. Maybe he was the one breaking and could use a familiar face. Maybe something turned him awfully worried about you. Maybe-

No.

“Aren’t you mad that Natasha told me?” he asks unsurely and you give him a tight-lipped smile, taking a seat in one of your dining table chairs and ushering for him to do so as well.

“Would you believe me if I said that it’s actually quite nice to see a familiar face after five pretty lonely years?” you refute and he gives you a warm smile.

“It’s good to see you, too, Kid.”

A comfortable silence settles between you two and you fidget with your hands, staring at them intently before raising your face back to Steve. “Why are you here, Cap?”

He lets out a long sigh. “Ever since the Blip,” he starts and you can feel him debating whether to continue, “I never– I didn’t get to tell you how sorry I am about Bucky.”

You freeze and slowly turn your gaze to him. “Okay. Now I am pissed at her.”

“Natasha didn’t tell me,” he quickly assures and you raise a brow at him. “He did.”

You fall quiet at that. “Bucky told you about…”

“What,” he laughs. “Didn’t think you two were serious enough for him to tell his best friend about it?”

You reply with a humourless laugh of your own. “He um– He wasn’t a very committing guy. And I don’t blame him. Why commit to something if you might lose everything all over again?”

The pity in Steve’s gaze feels burning to your skin. “Well, if you’re that scared of losing something, it might be worth committing to,” he says and you find yourself agreeing with the wise bastard.

“Well, I committed and look where I am now,” you huff. “Turns out, he was right all along.”

“Kid–”

“Why are you here, Cap?” you try again, all of a sudden too eager to get rid of him.

It takes a while for him to answer and dread settles low in your belly. When he starts talking, you’ve already started shaking your head. “We have found a way to bring them all back.”

You still. And you stay like that. Seconds. Minutes. Maybe another five years have passed.

“Did you hear what I said?” he tries.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. We figured out a way. Time travel.”

You bark a laugh and give him a pointed glare. However, your vision is already slightly impaired by the tears pooling at your waterline. “Don’t,” you stop him before he continues elaborating. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about this in the past five years? That you, or Nat, or even Tony fucking Stark himself would stand at my door and tell me we figured it out? About a million times, Cap. And the more normal this delusional scenario became in my head, the more absurd it seemed to be. And now, you expect me to just believe that nearly five years on the dot, you have figured out a way to return everything to normal?!”

Steve can take it, the sudden outburst of your disbelief. He has definitely encountered a whole lot more scepticism in his life. But his heart breaks a little for you. Bucky had tried to be so casual when he finally told Steve about you, but Steve had caught the sparkle in those hundred-year-old eyes and he couldn’t describe the relief of Bucky having found someone, let alone you.

But now, to see you so far removed from Bucky – from hope. He hates it.

“I waited,” he almost whispers. “Until I was completely sure. We need you for this.”

You blink away your tears and one rolls down your cheek. Steve quickly reaches to catch it and cups your face. A touch normally so very unwelcome, but now you cannot help but bury your face in his palm.

“You’re sure?” you ask, voice breaking.

Steve pulls you in and up to his chest, engulfing you in a tight hug. “Time to bring our best friend back, Kid.”

Time Travel.

You cannot help but smile when you see the handsome brainiac hunched over a laptop near some high-tech stage that you can’t seem to look at too long without talking yourself out of this.

“Hey, Tony,” you say quietly as you walk up and his brown eyes light up when he hears your voice. Stepping away from the screen, he opens his arms wide and pulls you into a tight hug. Another comfortable embrace that you can only breathe in and cherish.

“My favourite spy,” he murmurs and pulls back.

“How are you doing?” you ask him.

He gives you a knowing look. “Oh, you know. Good. Until he showed up,” he sneers with a pointed look at Steve, who simply rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “he has a way of interrupting peace.”

Tony snorts. “Now that, is what I call a paradox.”

You laugh and pat his shoulder, “Pepper and Morgan?”

“They’re wonderful.” He grins, but you can see the fear shining in his eyes and you give his shoulder a firm squeeze.

“Thank you for doing this, Tony.”

He smirks in answer. “I swear, if you and Barnes don’t openly kiss after all I am about to sacrifice, I will find the stones and undo both of your existences.”

You shoot a thunderous glare to Steve, and to Natasha who is walking up behind the Captain. But Tony stops you before you can scold them on their horrible secret-keeping skills, “Pepper told me.”

You grit your teeth.

The Avengers are a bunch of gossips.

The Endgame.

You stumble backward, your sprained ankle and broken ribs somehow only a faint ache over the sight before you. You almost trip over debris, or a body, or just air and you keep blinking to see better or to make it all go away, you don’t know.

He did it. Tony did it. You’re sure you can still feel the snap of his fingers vibrate through your spine. And there he is. Slumped against more debris, half of his face cracked like burnt coal, his suit barely reflecting its original colours. The blue light at the centre of his chest is fading, shuttering and then… it goes dark. With Pepper’s hand over it.

Your own hand barely muffles the sob trying to break through and you stumble over and over again as you back away from that horrible, awful reality. He did it. But at what cost?

You turn around and start jogging. How? You’re not sure. Your body is in no state to hurry. But it’s incomplete. You were barely strong or extraordinary enough to be of any help during the fight, but you tried your best. Helping people in the field, some war medic patching up gushing wounds. You’d cashed some punches and kicks yourself. Dealt them, too.

It was all because you needed to be there. Because you needed to stay alive. Needed to stick around to see him again. And now… Now… You barely survived this, barely made it through. And Tony died. Tony Stark. The chance of him still being out there-

You start running faster. Hobbling and grunting from the pain.

“Bucky,” you voice is raw and frantic, it’s barely a sound as you cry out for him. “Bucky! Bucky!”

Head swinging from side to side, you hope the soldier reveals himself from behind one of the plumes of smoke. Further and further away, you flee from the horrifying scene of whatever is left after Thanos. You need to find him, but you can’t identify anything on this war ground.

If he’s dead. If Bucky is dead–

Your head whips around so fast, your neck might crack, when you’re sure you hear your name. Everything about you goes quiet and you hold your breath like it will make any difference. Slowly, you walk in the direction where you assume the sound came from, but you almost cringe at the idea that you might just be going insane. After all those explosions, your hearing can’t possibly be this sharp.

Though perhaps intuition is at play here, because you’ve always been able to feel him. Always knew it when it was him waiting up for you, or looking for you, or needing you.

“Bucky,” you croak again.

“Here…” It’s so quiet. But you hear it over everything else and follow the echo of the sound.

“Bucky,” you rasp out. “I’m coming!”

And there he is. On hands and knees, struggling to get up. You can only describe your approach as a dive, as you crash onto your wobbly knees and wrap your arms around him. His body instantly stops struggling and falls into your rib cage.

He’s here. He’s here. He’s here.

“Yeah,” he groans. “’M right here.”

You had no idea you were sobbing it to him, but you don’t care as your hands grapple for a better hold of him. He does the same until both of you are kneeling in front of each other, cupping each others’ faces to check for injuries.

“You look pretty all roughed up,” he mutters and you smile through your tears.

“You look awful,” you reply and he chuckles before pulling you into his chest. “But you’re home.”

He shudders and you might actually hear him let out a sob of his own as he tightens his grip on you.

“Finally.”

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Steve having to bail Bucky and reader out of a very simple mission wherein they both got slightly too egotistical for their own good.

“How did you even wind up in this situation?”

“Let’s just say there was a lot of double-dog daring.”

Bailed Out » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America

Summary: Steve bails you and Bucky out of jail.

Warnings: Fluff, little bit of Angst, language, jail, pet names

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anonymous person who requested this🩵 also I thought it would be interesting to add a gif of Steve too🥰

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found them on Pinterest.

“I’m here to bail out James Barnes and Y/N Y/L/N.” Steve says to the officer behind the desk.

“One moment.” The officer says.

The officer stood up from the desk chair and went to the holding cell you and Bucky are in. He unlocked the cell door and opened it.

“Barnes, Y/L/N, you two made bail.” He says.

You two walked out of the cell and followed the officer to the main lobby of the police station. Steve was standing there with his hands on his hip and stared at you guys like he’s a dad bailing his teenage son and daughter out of jail. You and Bucky followed Steve out to the car without saying a word.

“I call dibs on the front seat!” You say, racing to the car and put your hands on the handle of the passenger’s side door.

“You can’t just call dibs on it!” Bucky says, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Yes I can!” You say.

Steve sighed loudly, already tried of the two of you bricking over who gets to sit in the front seat.

“Just shut the hell up and get in the car!” Steve shouts, making you guys go quiet.

You got in the front seat and Bucky got in the back seat without saying a word. You two know it’s serious when Steve yells. He hardly ever yells. The whole car ride to the compound was silent. You and Bucky didn’t dare say a word. When the three of you got to the compound, you and Bucky were going your separate ways, but Steve stopped you guys in your tracks.

“Where do you two think you’re going?” Steve asks.

“To the lounge room.” You say.

“To the gym.” Bucky says.

“No you’re not.” He said. “Conference room now.” He orders in his Captain voice.

You and Bucky were about to protest against it, but you two knew Steve didn’t want to repeat himself. You two went to the conference room with Steve following behind you guys. You and Bucky sat next to each other at the table while Steve sat on the opposite side of the table.

“You two were supposed to be on a very simple mission. What happened?” Steve asks.

“I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. Y/N was the one you wasn’t listening to the orders she was given.” Bucky says, tattling on you.

“That is not true and you know it!” You say.

“I was following the orders I was given. You were the one starting shit with those people.” He says.

“It’s not my fault they started shit!” You rose your voice at him. “I was just defending myself.” You say.

“Defending yourself doesn’t include breaking someone’s nose.” He says.

“That bitch had it coming. She punched me first.” You say.

Steve sighed loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to you guys continue to argue.

“Enough!” Steve shouted, getting you two to shut up. “I don’t care who started it. I just want to know why you guys got arrested.” He says.

“Someone called the cops on us.” You say, being a smartass.

“I’m being serious, Y/N.” He says in all seriousness.

“A fight broke out and I was trying to help Y/N. I guess someone seen or heard what was going on and called the cops.” Bucky explains. “The other people were arrested too.” He says.

Steve sighs again and rubs his hands over his face, trying to figure out a way to punish you guys.

“As much as I hate to say this, but you two are suspended for the rest of the week.” He says.

“Does that mean we can’t go on the mission on Thursday?” Bucky asks.

“Nope.” Steve answers. “Sam and Natasha are going to be filling in for you guys.” He says.

“That’s bullshit!” You stated.

“I can make the suspension longer if you want.” He says.

“No we don’t want that.” Bucky said. “Right, doll?” He says, elbowing your arm.

“Right.” You mumbled loud enough for them to hear.

“Good.” Steve stood up from his chair. “You two are dismissed.” He says, opening the door.

You and Bucky walked out of the conference room in silence and went your separate ways. You were laying on your bed, thinking about your actions. Now that you think about it, you didn’t follow the orders you were given. You felt bad cause Bucky got arrested and suspended with you. You got out of bed and went to Bucky’s bedroom, which is next door to yours. You knocked on his bedroom door and patiently waited for him to open it.

“What do you want?” Bucky asks after opening the door.

“Can we talk please?” You asked.

Bucky stared at you for a few silent seconds before stepping aside to allow you to walk inside of his room.

“What do you want to talk about?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I just want to apologize for everything that happened earlier.” You started. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to get out of control like that. I take full responsibility for my actions. I’ll try my best to listen to the orders I’m given next time.” You say apologetically.

“It’s ok.” He accepts your apology. “If the roles were reversed, I probably would’ve done the same thing.” He says.

“Hug on it?” You asked, opening your arms for a hug.

Bucky smiles before pulling you in for a tight hug.

“I’m also sorry for getting you arrested and suspended.” You apologized again, looking up at him.

“It’s ok, doll.” He almost whispers. “I forgive you.” He says, kissing your forehead.

🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖🪖

-Bucky’s Doll

[bweeeb]

BACK HOME DOLL

Y/n x Bucky Barnes

Summary: When Hydra took you both and took you separate ways during the second war, meeting again seemed like something far from happening.

Warning: bad writing. Sorry for that.

It was funny to you how much things had changed in what? A hundred years? That was what you had, wasn’t it? People had changed, the way they spoke, walked, the way they related to each other—it was all different, and you didn’t have a living soul who remembered who you were.

In 1942 was the last year you saw the people you loved, who you lived with and enjoyed the time you didn’t know was left. The following year, your boyfriend and best friend were drafted into the war, and so they were gone until five months later when you, as a nurse, were called to the central camp to support the head nurse.

Hydra picked you up in October of 1943, tortured you, and used you as a machine—a project to test their other soldiers. You were strong, had the super soldier serum in your veins, but it was different from what the Winter Soldier used. You were sensory, feeling the metal of the Winter Soldier’s arm 20 kilometers away. Your senses were heightened, not only to what you felt but to what others felt too. Your eyes were almost entirely mechanized, and your feelings ceased to be yours. The mechanics applied to you didn’t allow you to shed a single tear from your fake eyes; you heard yourself crying and screaming inside, agonized by the sight of Buck grabbing you tightly when you tried to escape once and wrapping his vibranium hand around your neck. Hydra liked you and sent you for obvious reasons—you were precise in what you did, had no fear, and no hesitation about what you really wanted. Going after Buck had been a clear demonstration and the best way for them to torture you by showing that the man you loved was not the same as before.

Over the years, you met Steve again, who pulled you from Hydra’s grasp and tried to give you as normal a life as possible. Suddenly, you were no longer a national threat or a menacing machine, just you. Over time, Steve left, everyone you briefly knew left, and you were alone, exactly as you were now and exactly how your psychologist liked to play in your sessions.

— You haven’t had a call on your cell phone. The last person who called in a whole week was me. That’s depressing, Y/N. — She said, and you sighed tiredly. You were so tired.

— What do you want me to do? Approach someone and say, “Hi stranger, I’m 100 years old but look like I’m twenty-one. Want to go out sometime?” — You rolled your eyes, and the doctor in front of you crossed her arms impatiently.

— Be more subtle than that and it will work. —

— Look, I don’t know how to do that. The last time I communicated with someone was in 1949 and with someone who actually cared about me. — Your voice softened at the mere memory of a few minutes before you were taken.

— Try harder, Y/N. You’re not trying. —

— I’m not trying. — You murmured and leaned back in the chair. — People today are... different. I... I... —

— Different how? —She asked, and you just shrugged with your head down. — Let me tell you something, Y/N. People are not different from what they were; you just think they are because you’re not making an effort to integrate into a social circle. —

The doctor said, and silence continued to loom in the room. You had nothing to say, thought too much, but that didn’t mean you wanted to explain your thoughts. — I have a patient who’s been through similar things as you, feels the same pains, Y/N. Don’t think I don’t understand because I know you both are struggling with the same invisible ghost. Tell me what you’re thinking? —

— I just don’t know how to be a woman here. We were so... different from what I see today, and I don’t know how to be like them. —

You grumbled, frustrated.

— I think you need to go out with men, with more people who would be your age and get used to it. —

— Men. —

You let out a brief laugh. — Men are different here too. They wouldn’t like me here, and I don’t know if I want them to like me. —

— You’re beautiful, Y/N. I can’t hide that fact; you’re delicate and very feminine, and that’s becoming rare to see. Men are men, my dear, don’t be afraid of them. You need to start acting like a 21st-century woman to feel like you belong here. —

— I think I can start with friends first. —

— As you wish. Just make sure you do it. —

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

It had been a week since your session with your psychologist, and even though you said you would try to make friends, you were alone, as usual.

You liked going to the open-air markets every Thursday; they had beautiful flowers for sale, fruits, and sometimes even mugs.

You were staring at the flower stall in the corner when a woman stopped next to you and set boxes on the ground.

— Let’s see. — She said, looking at the displayed flowers. — What would be the best to show that i care but not seem cheesy for giving flowers.— The woman mumbled, and you, torn between whether to answer or not, gathered your courage and turned to her.

— Gerberas are a good option. —

You almost wished you could sink into the ground when you heard the same situation. You hated feeling like an intruder in other people’s matters, and that was exactly what you were feeling now.

— Really? Which ones? —

The woman replied cheerfully, and that relieved your heart.

— These here. —

You answered with a sweet smile, handing her a bouquet of white, yellow, and pink gerberas.

— Wow, they’re beautiful. Are they hard to care for? Do you know? —

She asked, and you shook your head in a gentle motion.

— They just need water, light, and a little attention. They make rooms happy. — You shrugged with a genuine smile for having helped.

— Good. That’s exactly what he needs, so I’ll take these. Thank you... —

— Y/N. —

— Y/N, it's different, but a beautiful different. I’m Sarah. Nice to meet you. —

— Likewise. —

By the end of the afternoon, you both said goodbye, and you thought you wouldn’t see her again, which briefly made you sad because you realized you didn’t know how to get past this phase. Until suddenly, a week later, you found the woman there again, but this time with a trillion boxes stacked in her arms.

You ran up to her and asked if she needed help to unload everything behind her car, and Sarah immediately refused. You had body mass but didn’t seem strong at all beyond the way you acted. You looked too delicate to lift a box of more than three kilos of wood, fish, and stones into her old car, until you insisted and lifted two boxes at once with the greatest ease, convincing Sarah that you could handle the weight and it was even light.

In the end, the woman saw the grime on your furry leather coat and your black pleated skirt and felt bad for the dirt on your beautiful clothes, so she offered her house right there for you to at least wash your hands. After much insistence, you accepted. Honestly, it wasn’t very safe to get into someone’s car whom you barely knew, but at the moment, you had nothing more to lose other than being really annoyed by the sticky residue on your hands and nails.

— So, where are you from, Y/N? I haven’t seen you around much. — Sarah asked as she parked the car in her garage.

— Brooklyn. I’m kind of new around here.—

— New York? —

— Yeah... kind of. —

You both got out of the car, and with a smile, Sarah opened the door of the house for you.

— My brother came home with his super strong friend, so don’t worry about the boxes. Go wash your hands, girl. Your nails deserve to stay pretty. —

You thanked her softly and went to the bathroom. When you got there, you washed your hands and looked at yourself in the mirror, sighing and repeating to yourself.

— You can do this. —

It was almost impossible not to feel the anxiety radiating through your whole body with the possibility of introducing yourself to other people. What if you said something wrong, or if they just found you boring and uninteresting enough not to want you there?

You were never a very sociable person; that was Aly’s role back then. You were just the pretty friend who happened to date your best friend’s hot boyfriend’s best friend.

When you came out of the bathroom, the house was still empty and quiet, so you walked outside and found Sarah coming toward you with a smile on her face.

— Hey, I hope the boys didn’t leave a mess inside. You know, kids. —

— You have kids? That’s cool. —

— Yes, do you want to have some? —

— What? Kids? —

— Yes. Kids. You’re still young, you have time. —Sarah laughed, and you smiled awkwardly, feeling silly.

— I’d like to, but I can’t. —

— Oh, I’m sorry. Do you and your boyfriend think about adopting, or living a child-free life? —. She asked, and you pressed your lips together.

— If I had a boyfriend, maybe. I don’t know, taking care of a child seems difficult when I can barely take care of myself, you know? — You said, and Sarah laughed, nodding her head.

— I understand. It is difficult. I thought you were talking about the ring. —

— That... yeah, it’s more of an emotional accessory. And you, how old are you? —

— Ugh, at least ten years older than you. — She said, laughing, and Sarah laughed a lot with you. You laughed awkwardly behind her; it was obvious she wasn’t one hundred and ten years old.— I was rude, sorry. —

— It’s okay. I’m 31. What are you, 24? —

— I... — You were torn between saying a hundred and one and twenty-one, but someone calling Sarah’s name caught both your and her attention.

— It’s Sam, let’s go. — She said, nodding towards the direction of the voice and heading that way.

— My age is complicated, I’ll explain it better some other time. —

— Alright then. —

Sarah said, leading you to where a boat was docked with two men facing away, looking at a pipe.

— Why didn’t you use the metal arm? —

— Sometimes I forget I have it. I am right handed —

The conversation between them reached your ears, and your feet almost stopped working when you heard the voice. You might be going crazy, it could only be that.

Sarah took larger steps and caught one of the men’s attention—her brother, Sam.

— Here, take this. —

She said, handing Sam a screwdriver.

— What happened to the old one? —

— The foot here broke. —

— At least I fixed your boat for you. Hi Sara... —Buck’s words stopped when he turned to look at Sam’s sister, but his eyes fell on the person he had dreamed about every night since 1994.

You, standing next to Sarah, swallowed hard and frowned, trying to control your emotions. You couldn’t look crazy now; they wouldn’t like you. That’s what you kept repeating, but seeing the man identical to Bucky Barnes made you want to collapse on the grass you were standing on.

— I completely forgot to warn you about this, this is Buc… —

— Bucky? — Sam called out to his friend but received no answer, only a confused stare from Buck as he continued to look at you.

— Hey. Y/N? Are you okay? —

Sarah turned to you, worried by the silence between you two, and distressed, you took a step back, thinking this was just a trick of your mind.

— Are you real? — Buck’s weak voice escaped his lips, and with a subtle movement, he took a step towards the boat, awakening to come closer to you.

— Man, what kind of weird question is that? Do you know each other? — Sam asked, and once again, with no response, just a confused look from Sarah.

— You’re not real. — You whispered, feeling your eyes filling with tears as you saw Bucky approaching more closely than a mirage would. — Bucky? —

You swallowed the lump in your throat and stopped trying to back away.— Is it really you? —

— How... how is this... why. —

Bucky stammered, and you knew he wouldn’t cry, but you also knew Bucky Barnes well enough to see how his eyes screamed to shed tears.

Bucky came closer and briefly touched your soft cheek with his right hand, as if to prove to himself that you were real.

Suddenly, as if fear had been cut away, you moved toward him and wrapped your arms around the neck of the tall, much bigger man.

His arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you off the ground, pulling you closer to him.

— Are you really here? —

You asked, with warm tears streaming down your cheeks while your face was buried in Barnes’s neck.

— I’m here, doll. —

Buck squeezed you tighter, and for a moment, he was concerned and let you go.

His tears and red nose were the sight he had always cherished seeing; Bucky never let you cry, and now knowing it was his fault broke him into pieces.

— I thought you were dead. —

You sobbed, and Bucky placed both hands around your face to wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks.

— I thought you were dead. —

Bucky pulled you close again, and this time he really did, feeling your hair, the softness of your skin, sensing you near him.

It was good to be close to you again.

××××××

In my head this had been better

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Cure [Sex Pollen Trope]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x AFAB Reader x Frank Castle

Trope de Sept Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Sex Pollen Situation 1. A fictional substance that makes the characters experience unbearable pain if they don't fuck. "You, Bucky, and Frank are exposed to a strange chemical in an abandoned Hydra warehouse. And there's only one way to make the effects wear off faster."

Warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio). No use of Y/N. AFAB Reader. Implied sexual assault of and by Bucky during his time as the Winter Soldier. Implied past/current casual sexual relationships between the Reader/Bucky and Reader/Frank. All the dubious consent circumstances that come with sex pollen. Unprotected P in V, threesome, breeding kink, creampies, multiple orgasms, pet names (baby, doll, sweetheart, honey). 

WC: 3,200

A/N: Trope de Sept order got a little shuffle. Don't worry, everything is still coming, I just wanted to space out characters, fic types, etc. now that I have a better idea of what the rest of the fics will be.

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

How you and Bucky managed to get separated from the rest of the team, you weren’t sure.

The Hydra base was recently abandoned. Tipped off that the Avengers were on their way, they scrambled to make their escape, leaving miscellaneous papers, weapons, and other evidence of guilt behind.

You certainly weren’t going to take anyone in on this, but at least you’d have some clues that could maybe point to where they’d be next.

You and Bucky made your way into some kind of lab, the rest of the team raiding other areas of the base. Coms were down, but you weren’t too concerned as there seemed to be no threat that required back up. Hydra left this place abandoned and disheveled due to their hastened exit.  

“Shit. There’s no one here.” Bucky lamented, sending a set of empty beakers crashing to the floor in frustration

“Not no one, but sure as shit ain’t Hydra.” a gravelly voice cut through the darkness of the lab

You and Bucky turned to the source; a tall figure attached to dusty combat boots, vest dripping with white paint smears and long-ago dried blood splatters. He wore a scowl on his tired face, a bruise covering the left side of his jaw, and had a rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Castle.” Bucky nodded toward him

“Barnes. Sweetheart.” he nodded back to the two of you

“I’m sorry– sweetheart? How do you two…” Bucky asked, pointing between you and Frank.

“Remember when you said I should get a hobby? You know when weeks go by and there are no missions?” you said

“I meant like, take up pickleball or crocheting; not get sexually involved with vigilantes.”

“Hey, hey!” Frank rebutted

“Woah!” you also interrupted Bucky’s implication “Who said anything about me sleeping with him? No, I started taking on some– let’s just call them personal cases outside of work. You know, using my powers to be the everyman's hero. I run into Frank on rooftops sometimes.”

“So your hobby is being a superhero, when you’re not at work being a superhero?”

“I mean sometimes we also sleep with each other.” Frank added

Frank was lucky your powers didn’t involve laser vision, or else he’d be burnt to a crisp by the way you glared at him.

“Really, doll? Castle?”

“You know what Bucky, I don’t need judgment from someone who's dating pool includes all four of the Golden Girls. Wait, how do you two know each other?” you motioned between him and Frank

“A mutual friend of ours, Curtis Hoyle, runs a veterans therapy group once a week. It usually also turns into a poker game at my place afterwards.”

“Wilson joins sometimes too.” Frank added

“Didn’t think this was your scene, Castle,” Bucky said, bringing the subject back to the mission “Thought you worked alone. You’re not thinking of joining up are you?”

Frank scoffed. “Nah. Following a lead. Led me here.”

“To a world wide terrorist orginization’s base?”

“You’d be surprised how many of the street level scumbags I chase down are involved in shit like this.”

“So you came here to go all Punisher on them?”

Frank raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“Sure, the Avengers have been playing whack-a-mole with them for years, but the vigilante with a rage problem and a bunch of guns is gonna do it.” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“Fairness to me, didn’t know just what this place was til I got here.”

Bucky let out a deep exhale. He glanced between you and Frank, before returning his focus to the abandoned lab around you.

“Well you’re here now, might as well make yourself useful.”

The three of you looked high and low through the lab and turned up nothing of real value that could even be a glimmer of a lead on what Hydra was planning next or where they had scurried off to.

Bucky used his vibranium arm to bust open the door of a locked walk-in freezer, the last place it seemed you hadn’t searched.

Various test tubes and bags of medical supplies sat on the shelves, some full of odd looking substances, others spilled over and shattered from Hydra’s escape efforts.

Frank walked up to a shelf containing vials of cherry-colored liquid, picking one up in his large hand and examining it curiously.

“Don't touch that!” Bucky exclaimed, lunging forward just as Frank turned his head

Their bodies collided, sending the glass canister spinning into the air and crashing down to the ground. The red substance splashed all over the concrete floor and tiny fragments of glass flew in every direction.

“Castle, please tell me you didn’t just do that.”

“The hell you mean, me? You’re the one who pushed me!” Frank argued back

Bucky’s panic stricken gaze met yours and you had never seen fear quite like this in his eyes.

“Don't breathe.” he commanded

“What do you mean don’t breathe?” you asked, shaking off some of the liquid that splattered on your boot

“Oh god, no no no. It’s too late. We’ve all already been exposed.” Bucky lamented, sinking to the floor with his head in his hands.

“Bucky, what is that stuff? What is going on?”

“It’s a serum.”

“Like a super soldier serum?”

“Yes. But also no. This one’s effects are temporary. And highly potent. And very airborne.”

“Airborne. Like we all just breathed it in?”

“Yep.” he confirmed

“So what does it do? What’s gonna happen to us?” you asked, panic rising in your chest

“When I was theirs,” he motioned to the room around you, implying his time as Hydra’s prisoner “They realized all their sick experiments finally worked on me and they wanted more super soldiers, to replicate what they’d created in my bloodstream. The problem was, this was right around the time Dr. Zola got captured and arrested by the team that would become Shield.”

You glanced up and down the shelves once more, hoping something in here could be used for first aid in treating whatever the hell was about to happen to the three of you.

“So without their best scientist, no matter how many liters of my blood they took and tried to recreate the serum with, they couldn’t. In a last ditch attempt, they thought maybe it could be transferred genetically, They thought maybe they could use me to breed more supersoldiers.”

Your attention snapped back to Bucky.

“Breed? Wait, so they made you…? Oh my god, with who?!” you asked in horror as Bucky revealed yet another disturbing detail of his past

“Usually volunteers for Hydra’s cause. Sometimes other prisoners; women they also had been doing experiments on.”

“That’s disgusting.” you commented

“Believe me, I’m aware.”

“But what does that have to do with that stuff?” Frank motioned to the mess still splattered on the floor

“Zola’s prodigy, a real peach of a human named Dr. Whitehall, wanted to ensure the maximum possibility my DNA would take and the women participants would be as fertile as possible. I mean, after all this shit they did to me before, they thought maybe my swimmers would be pretty fried and they could create something to remedy that. So that stuff is a concoction he created in the 70s, basically it enhances all sexual urges to their most primal instinct, so those exposed are inclined to reproduce.”

“So it’s horny juice?” Frank asked

“Eloquent as always Castle, but yes. I’d say we have about ten more minutes before it kicks in. Once it does, it’s really painful until it’s out of your system or until you act on what it wants you to.” he turned to you “Okay here’s what’s gonna happen– Doll, you’re gonna go outside and lock Frank and me in this freezer so you’ll be safe from us.”

“Safe from you? What do you mean?”

“This stuff, it kinda alters your self control for a while. Like I said, it makes you run more on instinct, especially when the painful side effects hit. Once it starts kicking in, we’ll do anything to get rid of the pain. Frank and I won’t be able to resist you and you won’t be up for putting up much of a fight either. Get somewhere where our coms will work again and radio to the team, have them get you to Banner’s lab immediately. He might be able to concoct something to ease your symptoms for a few days.”

“A few days?!”

“Well it fades faster if you… ya know. But if you don’t, it could take a while to move through your system.”

“What about the two of you?”

“We’ll just have to… take care of ourselves here.” he said, making lewd gesture with his hand “Won’t be as efficient as the real thing, but it’ll help.” 

“I’m not gonna leave the two of you to just jack off and suffer.”

“Sweetheart, we’ll be fine. Just worry about you.” Frank chimed in, agreeing with Bucky

“If the solution is to… you know fuck it out. I mean shit, it’s nothing I haven’t already done with either of you.”

“Excuse me?” Frank inquired, now the one whipping his head to look between the two of you

“Remember in group a couple months ago when I said I got casually involved with a coworker, but broke it off cause it was getting in the way of our work? Well...” Bucky gestured towards you

“Unbelievable.” Frank grumbled with a shake of his head

You sat on the floor across from Bucky, tac suit suddenly feeling a bit too tight and itchy against your skin.

“This freezer we’re in… it’s still on right?” you asked

“Yeah.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m gonna combust at any minute?”

“It’s the serum. Shit, it’s already taking effect.” Bucky rushed over and crouched down beside you “Doll, you sure you don’t want to get out of here?”

“No. I want to stay. I want to help both of you and I don’t want to go through this alone either.” you said, unzipping your jacket and tossing it across the room without a thought, “Jesus it feels like my blood is on fire.”

You fanned yourself with your hands to no avail. This must have been how your mother felt during your teenage years when she’d lament about hot flashes.

Suddenly, you understood what Bucky meant by pain all over your body. It started small, almost like a needle prick, near your abdomen, but rapidly spread like ink on wet parchment.

Evidence that they were both starting to feel it too was showing; the way Frank’s brows were scrunched and how he was keeled over, hands on his knees with white knuckles gripping at his jeans. Bucky’s supersoldier powers combined with his previous exposures to this substance, he seemed reasonably calm compared to the two of you. His blue eyes were glazed over in a vacant stare as he sat on the ground across from you. Sweat droplets were beginning to form on his unusually pale skin. 

“P–please” you begged to both of them, pain suddenly unbearable as you pushed your pelvis off the floor, trying to find relief with friction against nothing.

You reached out to Bucky, but he shook his head no.

“Take care of Frank first.” he lulled his head to look at you “I’m more resistant to it’s effects. I’ll be fine for a while.”

“How many times do we have to… you know, to get it out of our systems?” you asked, still writhing your body against the air.

“As many times as it takes.” Bucky said

“Frankie” you reached a hand forward, beckoning him towards you.

He stumbled as he crossed the room, still slouched over slightly as he walked.

Frank’s cock was obviously strained against his jeans as he crouched down in front of you, deep brown eyes meeting your gaze.

“Sweetheart, you sure?” he asked once more, resistance to the serum fading quickly as he ran the back of two fingers down your arm, stroking you in reassurance.

As soon as his hand brushed your skin, icy relief washed over you, sending goosebumps along your flesh. You had the irresistible urge to press more of his skin against yours, to be as close to him as possible to quell the heat still bubbling beneath the surface.

All you could do was nod in response as you lunged forward, rubbing your hand along the bulge in his pants. Frank whined, a sound you’d never heard him make in the times you’d fallen into bed together, before crashing his lips against yours.

His kisses were fiery, full of tongue and teeth, like he just couldn’t drink enough of you in. Usually so patient and tender in bed, his large hands were now clawing at you, desperately trying to rid you of your clothes as quickly as he could. 

He tugged off your boots in one motion, allowing you to shimmy your pants down your body. Both of your shirts were quickly discarded as well. Fumbling to unbutton his jeans and push them down, Frank let out a relieved sigh as he finally freed his aching cock. The cool air from the freezer hit your sopping cunt, refreshing as another wave of heat rolled through your body as the serum was now fully in control.

You glanced over to Bucky as Frank laid you down on the hard concrete floor. His eyes were squeezed shut in a mixture of pain and pleasure, flesh hand down his pants stroking himself to quell the growing anguish as he listened to you and Frank. 

“Goddamnit doll, I can smell you.” His breathing was labored as he spoke.

Frank reached down, running a trembling finger through your folds.

“Shit Barnes, of course you can, she’s soaked.”

“P– please Frank” You begged again as Frank touched you where you needed him most, the action unknowingly teasing you into more pain.

“Shhh shh shh sweetheart. I know. It’s hurting me too. I’ll take care of you.” Frank reassured, sliding two fingers into you effortlessly

A strained sob slipped from you as he pumped in and out of you, relieved at the sensation but still in so much agony from not getting what you really needed.

“I think you’re ready.” he commented, barely restraining himself from just taking you roughly

You reached for his shoulders, guiding him fully on top of you. As he lowered himself he slid inside you in one motion, sinking all the way in easily. The serum didn’t allow him any pause, hips immediately snapping in and out with rough thrusts, primal need taking full control. His ample length repeatedly hit that perfect spingey spot inside you, causing you to cry out.

God the sounds in the room were downright sinful. Frank, who had been incredibly verbal during your previous trists, now reduced to only groans and grunts being swallowed by your sloppily placed kisses. Bucky’s lewd moans echoed off the walls and combined with the sound of skin slapping and your mewling. The vulgar symphony only spurred you on. Your peak hit you surprisingly quickly, though you attributed that to the foreign chemical invading your system.

It was like no other orgasm you’d ever had, like those viral videos of a firework finale all accidentally exploding at once. It felt endless, like you’d just be there cumming on the floor for the rest of your life.

“Shit honey, keep squeezing me just like that.” Frank finally found his words, climbing his own summit to relief. His large hand gripped at your jaw, steadying you beneath him as his movements became more erratic, an improvised drum solo of a brutal pace.

His dark eyes met yours, pupils blown out as he watched you come apart beneath him once more. Another overwhelming orgasm washed over you, more intense than the last.

That was enough to drag Frank over the edge with you. He pulsed deep inside you, filling you to the brim so much that you could feel it running down your legs before he even pulled back.

“Goddamnit.” he groaned into your shoulder

Sprawled out on the floor, you were an absolute mess of your own slick and sweat and Frank’s cum, but you didn’t care. You still direly needed more relief and knew Bucky must’ve been in total agony by this point; listening and watching you and Frank go at it.

“How you doing sweetheart?” Frank asked as he rolled off you, now a little more clarity that he’d gotten one orgasm out. You could still see the strained muscles in his neck, his skin still a shade of red as his lust was not yet fully satiated. 

“Better. Still hurts a little but much more bearable. Bucky, you ready to take over?”

He was slumped against the wall, eyes still squeezed shut. His jacket and shirt were gone and his pants were undone. But he’d given up on touching himself, knowing it wouldn’t soothe his suffering in the way he needed. You crawled across the floor toward him.

“Hey Buck? Eyes on me baby.”

His eyes snapped open and looked at you, full of desperation and pity.

“Let me help, yeah?” you spoke sweetly

He nodded, watching limply as you fumbled with his fly and exposed his throbbing length.

A switch seemed to flip inside him as you straddled him and sank down, coming alive with an animalistic fervor as you rocked your hips slowly. He let out a hearty exhale feeling your velvety walls all the way down his cock, finally alleviating the anguish he’d been trying so hard to conceal. 

Every sensation in your body was amplified, every touch of Bucky’s skin against yours was exquisite, every caress of his metal arm up and down your back shot like lightning striking straight to your core. You could feel every ridge of his cock, every thrust, every exhale. Overwhelmed by it all, you collapsed against his shoulder, letting him take the reins as he began to pitch himself up into you. How different he was too in this circumstance than the times previously you’d had him. Long languid strokes to ensure you’d feel it all long forgotten in favor of dragging you down by the hips over and over to meet his pace, every slam punctuated by lust and fury. Muttering ‘oh god’ and ‘yes baby please’ into your ear.

A soft caress brushed along the back of your neck, Frank kneeling behind you placing tender, open-mouthed kisses across your shoulder blades as you and Bucky fucked it out. The urge must’ve been building in him again because his hands were all over you and soon enough you weren’t sure whose grasp was where, only vaguely aware because Bucky’s vibranium touch was cool and calm amongst the heightened temperature of your sweaty skin. 

Your orgasm with Bucky blossomed, rising from deep within your core and spreading like wings in the breeze. You cried into his shoulder as he did not relent in his pace, pulling your pelvises flush as he came inside you with a carnal moan.

But you still weren’t satiated and you could tell neither were they. Fuck, this was gonna be a long night. 

[buckrecs]

Hello! You are doing the lords work here on this blog🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 do you have any soulmate au recs? I know some people don’t like them so no problem if not and sorry if you’ve been asked before!

Soulmate AU

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

the knowing by @noctumbra

ten days later, james barnes got a call from the police.

for your love by @noctumbra

they were very young; a little shy from being fourteen at that time, but both of them knew they were it. soulmates.

The Owl and the Wolf by @waiting4inspiration

In a world where a person can their soulmate’s spirit animal speaking like a human, Bucky hears your owl’s voice one day.

Snowflakes by @all1e23

Steve drags Bucky to a Christmas festival to take his mind off the fact that he has yet to meet his soulmate.

Colors in the Dark | 2 by @buckychristwrites

The world is without color, and that’s never bothered the Winter Soldier. The Fist of HYDRA didn’t have time for love and soulmates. At almost a century old, what are the odds that his soulmate was even still living?

Say That Again by @justsomebucky

Everyone hears a key word or phrase in their head from their soulmate, something only heard in person when the moment is right.

Teddy Bear by @softlyspector

in which when one soulmate loses something, their other half finds it.

Winter Sun by @softlyspector

When you and Bucky are kidnapped, you find out just how far you would go to keep each other safe.

Assassination to Soulmates by @bxcketbarnes

See the World the Way You Do by @vanderlustwords

You start to see colour when you meet your soulmate. Bucky thinks that soulmates are a one of a kind thing—you get one and that's it. His world used to be colourful once and then he lost that. He's resigned to see black and white for the rest of his life...until flashes of colours would appear from the corner of his eye. And it seemed to happen more and more as Bucky spends time with you.

Stay Still | Please, don’t by @buckysknifecollection

What if your soulmate was the one person you had hurt the most?

Enchanted by @natasharomanovf

The reader is in a loveless relationship when she meets her true soulmate, Bucky.

what’s in a name? by @ciarawritesmarvel

When you love someone, their name appears on your shoulder. If it’s in blue, it’s unrequited. If it’s in red, it’s requited. The name turns black when your love dies. 

SERIES

Who I Was Looking For by @soopranatural

Even after you started wearing cuffs, the words are engraved in your mind as well as your wrist. You know you’re not destined for love as soon as you learn how to read. How could you? When the words “Sorry, you’re not who I was looking for” are written in black ink on your skin.

The Only Exception by @whitestarbucky

Humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves. A lesson that taunted Bucky Barnes his whole life. Perhaps it was why he refused to believe in it. He couldn’t afford to. Then you came into his life to challenge his fears to their deepest degrees, not once, but twice. Whether he liked it or not.

A Moment Of Your Time by @stevesbestgirl

A soulmate AU where the headstrong reader realizes that she’s meant to love the brutal mob boss of New York City, James Buchanan Barnes. She doesn’t want to be a part of organized crime and she doesn’t want to rely on anyone, but how do you ignore your soulmate? 

Scars by @tokoyamisstuff

whatever you write on your skin, it appears on your Soulmate’s.

Flowers Bloom by @revengingbarnes

Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound. She is born with flowers around her entire left shoulder.

Heartbeat by @after-avenging-hours

Where your heartbeat matches the beat of your soulmate’s; they speed up together, slow down together, skip at the same time, but that means they also stop together...  

The Color of Blood by @theidiotwhowritesthings

In this world, a person didn’t discover color until they locked eyes with their soulmate. As an agent of SHIELD, finding your soulmate was hardly a priority. Especially since you were currently dealing with the shocking discovery that HYDRA had been pulling the strings behind SHIELD actions this entire time. Life was all about timing, and you were about to find out that your timing was absolute shit.

My night demons by @themorningsunshine

In which one can see their soulmate's dreams and communicate with them through those dreams.

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[questionableratatouille00]

Bucky Barnes vs. Winter Soldier

god i hate titling posts i think it looks weird as hell but i hate not knowing what post tumblr's giving me notifications for

also fuck grammar don't expect too much it's 10 pm im tired.

anyway

My favorite part about the whole bucky vs soldat thing and how they aren't the same person is that they are. they are literally the exact same person down to their core traits. if you disagree with me thats fine whatever i contradict myself in nearly every sentence and i'm right there with you disagreeing.

anyway

they are the same. they may be separate, whether it's by amnesia or just which side they're on, but in the end they come from the same source.

bucky's traits -> loyal, smart, very good sniper, watchful (watching over steve, noticing how steve left, noticing steve doing this and that) and able to follow a trail (finding steve in all his goddamn alley fights)

Winter Soldier's traits -> loyal (he is loyal to hydra, even if it's not really by choice), smart, very good sniper, watchful (just look at his eye movements. sebastian is so talented I CANT), and very good at tracking/following a trail.

those traits never change. yeah, bucky's a fine, science convention lovin guy, and the soldats a murder machine, but they still have the same traits in the end.

and that's why it makes bucky's character motivations and storyline so much better, because he should feel that guilt. not because it was his fault or because he should take the blame for it, but because it's only natural for humans to feel that way after something like that.

conveying the reasonings behind why bucky thinks hes a bad person is done better in fanfics than in his own damn show but we don't have time to unpack all of that

ive read so many wonderful fics where his guilt is so well portrayed it's AMAZING. he had no free will. they forced him to do it. it wasn't his fault. but it was still him. in the end it was still him. and he still remembers it

hydra did not carve bucky out of his body, they just took away his memories.

you didn't delete the tumblr blog, you just changed the theme

[onceuponastory]

home comforts - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: When Bucky finally comes home from another mission, reader makes sure he’s okay...and Bucky reflects on just how lucky he is to have her. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of death, violence, blood, injuries/wounds (nothing too graphic though) and everything Bucky did as the Winter Soldier, and went through with HYDRA. Also, I mention how when he was the Winter Soldier, everything that happened to Bucky was without his consent, so that’s a trigger too. As always if I miss any triggers, let me know. Notes: Bucky deserves the world! Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

One summer evening, the front door to Y/N and Bucky’s apartment opens, breaking the silence in the space. Immediately, Y/N jumps up, rushing to the front door. That noise means Bucky is finally back after his mission. He’s been away for close to three months, and ever since he left the threshold of their front door, Y/N has been counting down the minutes until he got home. 

Finally, she sees him, standing in the doorway and taking his jacket off. She notices the mixture of blood and sweat on his body and face, still there despite Bucky’s obvious attempt to wipe it away. He does that a lot when he comes back from missions, she’s noticed. Trying to shield her from the death and violence he witnesses almost every day, keeping his life with her separate from his Avengers life. Maybe he’s scared she’d run a mile if she knew just what he’s capable of. But honestly, Y/N doesn’t care about that. She knows everything that Bucky’s been through as the Winter Soldier, and she doesn’t blame him for it. 

It wasn’t his choice. It never was.

“Hey love.” He murmurs, giving her a smile. Although she appreciates it, worry creeps in. He seems tired and empty, not like the cheerful Bucky she’s used to seeing now. Still though, she tries to mask her sadness. It’s tough, seeing him so worn down after a mission, and wanting to do all she can to help. Superhero or not, he deserves someone there for him on the other end. And she’s more than happy to be that person.

“Hey.” She takes a moment to take all of him in, noticing all the bruises and wounds dotting his skin. Even his arm seems to have lost its shine a little. Sighing, Y/N gently takes his hand. “They really put you through the ringer, huh?”

“S’Okay. It happens. It’s a part of the job.” He murmurs, shaking his head. She knows Bucky hates having her worry, but she knows that as his girlfriend, it’s her job to worry.

“I wish it wasn’t.” Y/N doesn’t say that, though. She can’t. How do you tell your boyfriend that you don’t like him going out there and saving the world, just because it means he might never come home to you again? Her stomach twists, the familiar feeling of anxiety about Bucky’s condition rising once more. Again, she tries to bury it. 

He’s here. He’s home, and he’s safe. For now.

“You must be exhausted. Let me run you a bath.” She offers, and he nods. Although, Y/N catches a slight moment of apprehension in his gaze. Even though it’s been a while since he left HYDRA’s grasp, it’s clear their torture still affects Bucky. Sometimes, she sees it on his face. Him wondering if he deserves care and love. Even something as simple as bathing and taking care of himself was a reward back then. And it breaks her damn heart.

“Thank you. That would be perfect.” He manages a smile at that, and she nods. “I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you, darlin’.” Y/N smiles softly, gently cupping his cheek.

“You deserve it because you’re a good person, Bucky.” She insists, hoping he believes her. Even after everything he’s been through, Bucky still tries to see the good in people. At least…those who deserve it. She just wishes he’d see the good in himself, too.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Running the hot water, Y/N glances at all the bath products she has on offer. Most are floral, fruity scents, not the most super soldier-esque fragrance. Bucky doesn’t mind that, though. He loves everything about her, and worships the ground she walks on. Instead, she opts for a lavender bubble bath, hoping it soothes him and calms his mind a little. God knows what he’s seen, but no doubt it will weigh on his mind like all the others. She pours some in, letting the water and bubbles rise as the scent of lavender fills the room. “Here you go.” She smiles, standing aside to let Bucky inside. He inhales the lavender, sighing contentedly, already feeling a little better.

“Thank you.” 

“Do you need anything?” She asks. Ideally, she’d want nothing more than to help him undress, peel off every piece of tactical gear that’s still clinging to his body, wet with sweat and blood. And then she’d treat every single wound on his body, making sure he’s 110% okay. But after so long being used as a weapon, having your humanity and agency stripped away from you piece by piece…she wants Bucky to have the choice to decide what happens, and who touches him in moments like this. If he’s more comfortable being alone, she’s more than happy to oblige.

“No, thank you. I’m okay.” 

“If you need anything, just give me a shout, alright?”

“Y/N.” He speaks, stopping her just as she leaves the room. “Thank you. For everything you do. I appreciate it more than you could ever know.” Smiling, she nods.

“I know.” But Bucky wants to tell her that over and over again. He wants to shout it from the rooftops, tell everyone just how lucky he is to have someone as caring as her, to have someone treat him and his body with kindness after so many years of being tortured and broken. He can’t even put into words what she means to him, what his love does for him.

Once he’s alone, Bucky steps into the water, immediately moaning happily as the warm water embraces him. He leans back, his back pressing against the cool porcelain of the bath. Finally, he has a chance to relax and clear his head after his previous mission. Finally, after god knows how long he spent on this last mission, he can finally think about something else, and clear his mind from this weight.

Soon, his mind goes to Y/N. And for the first time in a long time, Bucky starts smiling. Honestly, he doesn’t know what he did to deserve someone like her in his life. Someone so patient and loving. With her, his life is so much easier, and now he actually enjoys waking up in the mornings and going to bed at night. At least, he does when Y/N is beside him. He must’ve done something incredible in his past life to have her in this one. Sometimes, he worries that he’ll wake up and still be the Winter Soldier, his happy life with Y/N only a happy dream.

But life with Y/N is better than anything his mind could ever dream up. Even with all the death and blood he sees on almost a daily basis by this point, all the times he wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming…Y/N is right there by him, loving him, and staying up into the wee hours of the morning making sure that he’s okay and knows that he’s safe. She does so much for him, like now, when she made sure to respect his consent even when he knows all she wants is to be beside him, checking every inch of his body for any scars or wounds. No doubt she’d treat every single one of them too, big or small.

Bucky swears that Y/N’s heaven sent, that some angel must’ve been smiling on him that day when they sent her his way. Or maybe Y/N’s the angel they sent to him. 

Regardless of the way she entered his life, Bucky feels incredibly lucky to have her. And he’ll be sure to tell her that every day for the rest of his life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After a long, much needed soak in the bath, Bucky goes back to his and Y/N’s bedroom, wrapped only in a towel. As he creaks open the door, he spots Y/N. She’s laying on their bed, humming to herself as she reads. Bucky realises she hasn’t seen him yet, and for a moment, he just gets to watch her. She’s so beautiful. So peaceful. He would move heaven and earth to make sure she was okay and happy. Sometimes…well, most of the time, Bucky can be a grumpy asshole. Although, after being treated the way he was for so long, that’s understandable.

Y/N though? Y/N is the total opposite. She’s just so genuinely good, so loving and understanding. He could be having the worst day, wanting to scream and shout about the world and how much it hates him, and Y/N would be there to talk him down, to show him that there is good in the world. Although…he’s already seen that there’s good in the world.

And it exists solely in Y/N.

She looks up then, noticing him in the doorway.

“Hey you.” When she notices he’s only dressed in a towel, her eyes widen slightly. “What’s up? Enjoy your bath?” She stammers, clearly hoping he hasn’t noticed her staring. Chuckling, Bucky comes and sits beside her. 

“I did, thank you. I really appreciate you, love, you know that?”

“You don’t have to thank me. You’re my boyfriend, and I want to take care of you.” She insists. “If you ever need anything, even if it’s just a shoulder to cry on, you can come tell me, okay?” Instead of answering, Bucky leans in, kissing her softly. All the love and passion he has for her, and all the pain of missing her that’s built up over the last few months he’s been without her, finally releases. Y/N moans happily, scooting closer to him and wrapping her arms around him as the kiss deepens.

“I will... But how about….” He whispers, smiling. “We make up for lost time?” Giggling, Y/N nods.

“I’d like that.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[crowleysgirl67]

Touches

Author: @crowleysgirl67

Word Count: 2256

Parings/Characters: Bucky x Reader (Eventual), Avengers team, Nat x Steve, 

Warnings: AU ish i guess, show warnings, idk 

A/N: Thanks for reading!  

Steve had brought Bucky to the tower. It was awkward as you all stood there as he introduced him and Bucky kept avoiding looking anyone in the eye. You were tired of the awkwardness so you stepped forward.

“I’m (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you Sargent Barnes. I hope we can all make you feel welcome and comfortable here.” you extended your hand to him as you emphasized the all as you gave Tony a look. He wasn’t sure about him and was still pissed about the Winter Soldier killing his parents. 

He grumbled under his breath but stayed silent. 

“(Y/N) your glov…” Nat started but it was too late as Bucky took your hand in a firm shake as he introduced himself. You sucked in a deep breath as his memories filled your head and you dropped to your knees. You’d seen some horrible shit in people's memories before but none had made you drop to your knees in agony the way Bucky's memories were.

“What’s happening? What’d I do?” Bucky asked, concerned he’d done something wrong.

“She has powers, she can know everything about a person just by skin to skin contact. There’s more but no one knows the extent of them.” Steve replied grimly. He’d known whatever happened to his best friend had been bad but he was unaware of just how bad it was. He’d seen you work before, brought in when the bad guys weren’t giving up information, or they were withholding more than what little they were giving up. Some made you grimace but nothing had you on the floor like you were now.

Bucky looked taken aback and horrified. Steve pulled him back away from you as Nat barked orders for everyone to give you breathing room. It was several minutes before you were able to regain composure. 

“(Y/N) are you alright?” Nat asked, kneeling besides you.

“Yeah. Yeah I’m ok.” you rasp as you make your way to standing up. 

Nat took hold of your elbow and helped you up. You shot her a grateful smile as you felt drained and not as steady on your feet. 

“What the hell was that?” Tony demands “That’s never happened before.”

“I don’t have enough energy to deal with this right now. We can discuss it later.” you brushed his question off.

Tony looked like he wanted to argue but he knew better. “Fine. But you’re going to the med bay to get checked out.” The two of you stared at each other.  

“Ugh, fine but only because I’m too tired for this shit.” you relented.

***

Steve showed Bucky around the compound and the room he’d be staying in.

“I’ll let you get settled. My room is down the next hall if you need me.” Steve pats him on the back. 

“Thanks,” he replied, stepping into the room. It was a room, a bed with a bathroom attached and some closet space. A tv hung on the wall across from the bed. He left the door open as he pushed further into the room. He flicked the bathroom light on and looked around. It was a nice bathroom with a shower and a separate freestanding tub. He turned the light out and went back into the main part of the room, footsteps from the hall catching his attention. 

Thinking it was Steve again he stepped out of the room and just about into you. 

“Sorry.” he said, taking a step back.

“Not your fault.” you replied. “I should watch where I’m going. I’m not used to people in this hall.”

He looked you over before replying. You seemed better than you had been earlier. “What do you mean?”

“My rooms the next one over. Nobody else is in this hall. Well I guess now you are.” 

He gives you a puzzled look, “Why hasn’t anyone else been here?”

“Mostly cuz Tony is worried my powers could do something. While I mostly have control they can still be unpredictable even to me. He doesn’t say anything to me but I can feel his hesitation and see his thoughts.” you head toward your room as Bucky follows.

“What is it that you can do exactly? If you don’t mind me asking. Steve said you get people's memories by skin contact.” He was curious, naturally. All the shit he’d been through, things he’d never wish on another person had been thrown onto you.

You beckoned him in as he hesitated in your doorway. He was still hesitant but stepped further into the room as you sat on the bench at the foot of your bed to take off your shoes. 

“Have a seat.” you gestured to the chair in the corner. “What do you want to know?”

He took a seat, “The memories, do you get all of them?”

“Yes, any memories a person has I get with a touch. Their thoughts, feelings, things like that. In rare cases if the emotions are intense enough I will in essence experience what they went through.”

“Did you… Were mine one of those times?” he licked his lips. 

“Yes.” you weren’t going to lie to him. “But don’t feel bad. You didn’t know what was going to happen. I should have been more careful about having my gloves on with someone new around.”

“I’m sorry.” He felt guilty in a way, like sure it wasn’t his fault but it was still the fucked up shit in his head.

“It isn’t your fault James.” you say softly. 

He swallowed and ignored the rush of feeling that came with the sound of his name from your lips, “Is it contact via your hands only or does any skin contact trigger you?”

“Any. It's why I don't wear clothing that reveals skin. Long sleeves only if I'm out in public.” 

“What makes here so different?” he asked, noting you in a tank top and leggings. 

“Prolonged contact with everyone. Once I've touched a person I already have everything about them. If I touch them again even accidentally the only new information I receive is their memories, thoughts, feelings etc.. from between the last time I touched them and the new touch. Enough exposure and I don’t need touch to be in tune with them. I sense their feelings and can, if I focus, see their thoughts without touching them.”

“So downstairs earlier, staring with Stark. You were assessing him?” Bucky took an educated guess based on what you’ve told him so far.

You let out a surprised laugh, “Yeah, yeah I guess I was.”

***

Over the next few months you formed a close relationship with Bucky. He trusted you because you knew the truth about what happened to him, albeit in an unexpected manner. You hadn’t had skin contact again since the first time, so his rising crush on you had seemed to escape your freaky sense gaze. 

“Barnes.” Tony greeted as he walked into the common area. “Have you seen (Y/N)?”

“Stark.” he returned the greeting. “No I haven’t she said something about helping Nat with some project, I don’t know.”

“If you see her let her know I need to see her.” he walked away and Bucky shook his head. You had an odd relationship with Stark and he was never sure what to make of it. You didn’t seem to be in a romantic relationship, and if you were it wasn’t obvious. If he was honest he really didn’t want to think about the possibility of you being in a romantic relationship if it wasn’t with him. He knew the rabbit hole he would go in with thoughts like that so he got up to go in search of you. He tried the usual haunts, your bedroom, the gym. The lab was an obvious no since Stark was looking for you and that’s where he usually was. 

Taking a chance that maybe Steve would know where you were he went down the hall where his bedroom along with Nats was. Giggling from Natashas room had him skipping Steves and making his way down to hers. 

“That’s actually pretty cool. When did these pop up?” It was Nat speaking, the cracked door was enough for him to hear the conversation clearly.

“They’ve been here awhile. I just hadn’t had any real reason to try to strengthen them.” this time it was you who spoke.

“That reason wouldn’t happen to be a tall hunk of a man would it?” Nat teased. Bucky heard a thump and a muffled “Hey” from Natasha. 

“Shut up Nat.” 

“Fine, but only if you show me more of that. Can you do it for others?”

“I don’t know. I can try. Where’s Steve? I’m sure he’ll let me use him as a guinea pig.”

“Whoa no wait come back!” Nat exclaimed.  

The door to the room flung open as your giggling figure ran out and straight into Bucky. 

“Oof,” you grunted and wrapped your hands around strong biceps as you caught yourself. 

“Shit (Y/N)! Are you alright?” He put his hands on your hips to steady you. 

“I’m fine. What are you doing out here?” 

“Looking for you. Stark wants to see you.” 

“He can wait. Where’s Steve? I wanna show him something cool with Nat.” you grin up at him, excitedly. 

“Don’t you dare (Y/N)! I’ll tell him about your crush!” Nat appears in the doorway.

“What crush?” Bucky questions looking down at you. 

“Her crush on you.” Nat smirks as you blush, aware of the fact Bucky had yet to release your hips, and you your grip on him. 

“Thanks a lot Nat! I’m totally showing Steve now.”  

“You have a crush on me?” he was shocked but also excited at the prospect you liked him back.

“Yes.” you bit your lip, a habit he noticed you did when nervous.

“Well then I really think you should use your power on me again Supergirl.” he wet his lips. He was ever so aware that you were about to get every little detail about what he thought of you. 

You lowered your hand down to his exposed forearm, gently coming to rest your bare hand against his skin. Your eyes widen as you blush more. 

Nat chuckling breaks your spell and the red in your cheeks darkens as you remember you have an audience. 

“To be continued.” you whisper up at him. 

“Agreed.” a playful smile graced his face. “Now what was it you needed Steve for?”

“Nat and Steve sittin’ in a tree.” you start taunting, giggling. Nat lunged at you and you evaded her by hiding behind Bucky.

“What’s going on?” Steves voice rang through the hall. 

An evil grin spread across your face as you dart in his direction. 

“Run supergirl I got you covered.” Bucky laughs as he grabs hold of Nat.

“Don’t you dare (Y/N)!” She screeches. 

Steve has a perplexed look as he takes in the sight of whatever this was as he approaches.

“I can do a cool new thing. Care to be my test subject?” you bounce on the balls of your feet, excitedly. “It won't hurt, promise. Nat and I tried it earlier.”

“No! We just tried you, showing me your feelings! You haven’t tried transference of someone else's feelings!”  

“No better time to try!” you grabbed Steve's hand and pulled him over to Nat and took her hand. Your eyes flashed gold as you focused on Steve first. He liked Nat but let his feelings of not belonging in this time and his intense crush on Peggy get in his way. You took his liking of Nat and brought it forward, focusing you held your breath as you moved it to Nat. Her soft inhale let you know it worked, you let her feel them a few moments before pulling back. You repeated the process of showing Steve her emotions, before releasing their hands and stepping back.      

Bucky had released his hold on her and moved to your side, draping his arm around your waist. Nat and Steve stared at each other processing what just happened.

“Let’s give them some space.” he said, pulling you back down the hall. You made your way down to your own hall. “So what was that?” 

“I was able to show their feelings for each other to them. So Steve felt that Nat liked him and vice versa.” 

“Nat mentioned something about you showing her your feelings?” 

You nod, “Do you maybe wanna try that?” you ask shyly. 

“Only if you want to, doll.” he squeezed your hand gently.

“Come on.” you pulled him into your room and got comfortable on the bed. You pat the bed beside you and he sat down. Taking his hands in yours you begin the process of showing him your feelings for him. You were so focused that him pulling you in for a kiss surprised you. The connection was lost as you squeaked in surprise. 

His lips were warm and slightly chapped as they pressed against yours. Your arms snaked their way around his neck as he deepened the kiss. The kiss lasted for what felt like hours, before he pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. 

“Wow.” you smiled and he chuckled. 

“I’d like to take you out on a proper date.”

“I’d like that, and you may. But first I want you to do all those dirty thoughts to me.” you giggle as he groans low in his throat.

“As you wish, my supergirl.” he kisses you again.

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Like Breathing - Three

Title: Like Breathing

Word Count: 3.2k

Part Warnings: Captivity

Summary: Bucky’s life in Cove is far from perfect, mostly because Cove’s  residents want nothing more than to scare him away. Luckily for you,  Bucky isn’t easily scared off.

A/N: This is the third part of Like Breathing. I hope you enjoy! As always, thank you for reading.  Please let me know what you think! Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Translations:

Маленький = Little one

Котенок = Kitty

Like Breathing Masterlist

“—my shirt. I’m not sure who she is or where she came from, I just found her.”

You opened your eyes, blinking to try and focus. Bucky was still talking, but the floor beneath your feet was solid and cold, a stark contrast from the rocking of the car. Looking around, you took in your strange new surroundings.

You’d been taken out of the crate and put into a room by yourself. Everything was white and much too bright, with shiny floors and walls that melded seamlessly into one another. Your prison was empty other than three rectangular holes in the floor: one for a litter box, one with water and food, and one with blankets for a bed, where you currently laid. Cold air blew in from invisible vents somewhere in the room and you shivered.

The wall furthest from you was made entirely of glass. From what you could see through it, you were several feet off the ground. Beyond the thick pane stood a lab filled with equipment you could only imagine cost more than everything you’d ever owned combined. 

Dread settled in the pit of your stomach. Your worst nightmare was coming true. You’d been discovered. You had moved from being a free woman to a housecat, and now you were to become a science experiment.

“She’s awake. Pretty girl? You okay in there?”

You looked towards the far edge of the glass wall. Bucky stood beside another man and you shuddered under the man’s steady gaze. You recognized him, of course. Anyone would. You could’ve kicked yourself for not realizing Bucky’s true identity sooner.

Bucky Barnes, the man with the metal arm.

Bucky Barnes, the man who’d been pardoned and then hidden away.

Bucky Barnes, The Winter Soldier.

Bucky Barnes, Captain America’s right-hand man.

How could you have been so stupid?

“This is my friend Steve,” Bucky said, his voice muffled by the thick glass separating you. He gestured to the blonde man standing beside him, and Captain America nodded once. “He wants to talk to you, but you need to be a person again for him to do that.”

Like hell you were shifting in front of them. You’d stay a cat forever if it meant keeping your secret. If they uncovered the truth, they’d either run experiments on you, try and recruit you to their little team, or worse, try to take your powers away from you. Maybe they’d kill you in the process.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Steve said. You shifted your gaze to him, uneasy. Though his expression was kind, it felt like he was staring into your soul and you shrank back, ears flattening as you hurried to look for an escape. “We just want to talk.”

You backed up farther when Steve walked along the glass, centering himself in front of you. You kept going until you’d forced yourself into a corner, and then you made yourself as small as possible. 

“You’re scaring her.”

Bucky’s voice made you glance in his direction. He met your gaze, his face sympathetic, before he looked over at his friend. “We can come back later,” he suggested. “She wasn’t expecting this to happen.”

Bucky was right—you hadn’t expected this. The betrayal cut deep and you knew that if you’d been in your human form, you would’ve cried. Twice had you been blindsided by people who knew your secret. This time, though, it somehow hurt worse.

After a moment, Steve nodded. “We’ll be back,” he told you, and you curled up even tighter at his promise. “We’ll bring you some breakfast.”

The two men left the lab through a set of hydraulic metal doors. They hissed shut and you could hear the locks engage even from the corner of your cell. You waited in silence, holding your breath to see if it was a trick of some kind. When they didn’t reemerge, you relaxed a little, uncurling just enough for you to take a deep breath. 

You waited another few minutes just in case before venturing out of the corner. Slowly, you walked along the edge of the cell and looked for any kind of opening or vent you could escape through. If you needed to, you’d shift long enough to pry off a vent or get a door open, and then you could shift back and sneak out of the building. Your search proved pointless, however, because the walls were seamless. There wasn’t so much as a crack along the bottom.

Sighing, you curled back up in the corner, determined to wait Bucky out. If you continued to act like a cat would, maybe they would let you go. You closed your eyes, knowing that if Alpine were in this situation, she would try to sleep. There wasn’t anything else to do, anyway.

Sleep never came, and after what seemed like hours, the hydraulic doors to the lab slid open again and Bucky entered. Steve wasn’t with him and you laid still with your eyes closed, listening and waiting to see what he would do.

A loud hiss made you flinch, ruining your act. Bucky slid a plate of food through an opening in the glass pane. As soon as his arm was back outside your cell, the glass closed in on itself, completely seamless once more.

You stared at Bucky from the corner of the room. He stared back, though he fidgeted under your steady gaze. Finally, he spoke up.

“I tried to get a little bit of everything. I wasn’t sure what you liked, and I figured you were tired of cat food,” he said, his voice soft.

He was right. You were definitely tired of eating cat food, but you weren’t about to let him know that. The plate smelled delicious and the food was still hot; you could see steam rising and fogging up the glass behind it. Bucky continued to fidget, his figure blurry in the condensation.

“You’re probably angry with me, and hurt.” He looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t know if you’re with HYDRA or SHIELD, and I panicked. I called Steve. You haven’t done anything to hurt me so far, so I’m assuming you’re not HYDRA, but you don’t have their trust yet.”

You stepped closer, slowly making your way across the room to sniff at the food. You kept listening as you began to eat, nibbling on various things on the plate. Bucky truly had grabbed a little bit of everything. There were sausages and eggs, berries, some yogurt, and a few small pancakes. 

“No one is going to hurt you, Маленький. I promise. I’d never let them hurt you or Alpine. You two…” He trailed off and you stilled. What was he trying to say?

“I know what I saw,” Bucky continued. “You were a person, a woman, and you stole that red shirt from my closet to wear. I didn’t imagine that. So please, just… I just want to know who you are. I want to know why. Why did you stay? You could’ve left after you’d healed? Why did you stay with us? With me?”

You had no way of knowing if Bucky was telling the truth. You’d trusted him since the moment you’d truly met his eyes out on the sidewalk in front of his house, but now he’d tricked you. His whole life he’d been trained to lie and deceive. Your gut twisted once more at the thought. He wanted you to trust him again after everything he’d done. You felt so conflicted. You wanted so badly to trust Bucky, but he’d also knowingly led you into a trap. This wasn’t a black or white situation. It was thoroughly gray, just like he was.

Bucky watched as you picked at the food, only nibbling on a few different things. When you finally couldn’t stomach anymore, you sat back on your haunches and started the grooming routine you’d always done after eating. Going through the motions helped you to settle, and you could sense Bucky’s tension waning as well.

“Steve will be back soon,” he murmured. “If you can’t trust me, please trust him. He’s one of the good guys.”

Part of you wanted to speak up, to tell them that he was one of the good guys too, but you didn’t acknowledge Bucky’s comments. Instead, you continued to groom yourself, acting as if nothing had changed.

He sighed, watching you for a moment longer before leaving the same way he’d come. You kept up your routine, partly because you were sure they had cameras on you, but also because it was comforting to do something you’d done every day for months now. It settled your nerves, and by the time Steve came back in, you were almost ready to face him. Almost.

Days passed and you kept up your facade. Bucky visited you multiple times each day, talking to you in the same soft voice he’d always used, though the twinge of sadness grew bigger with each visit. Steve came just as often. He regarded you coolly, but he was kind and he always gave you the opportunity to ask for anything you wanted, provided that you shifted into your human form. You ignored him.

On the morning of your fourth day in captivity, Bucky carried in Alpine. He released her into your cell through the opening in the glass and you quickly got up from your spot, sniffing cautiously.

You’re here! I wondered what happened to you, Alpine said. She approached you just as cautiously and you let her rub against you. Bucky watched in silence from behind the glass.

“I’m fine,” you told her, batting at her face when she got too close for comfort. “They’re keeping me locked up in here.”

She walked around the edges of the room, inspecting everything just as you had, then meowing at Bucky. You stayed put against the wall.

Why are you in here? This room is terrible! Where’s the door? Why are they keeping us separate?

“They found out my secret. They want me to change to my human body.” You sighed and laid down again while she checked the room out once more.

So why don’t you?

“If I let them know that they’re right, they’ll want to do tests on me or turn me into some kind of superhero. I don’t want to do that. They might even try to take away my ability to change into a cat.”

Alpine didn’t like the sound of that and she bristled. They wouldn’t, she hissed.

“They would.”

She laid down against the glass directly in front of Bucky, her fur smashed against the window. Couldn’t you pretend to be a really smart cat?

“I don’t know how I could do that without giving myself away. I don’t think I’m ever going to get out of this. I think they’re planning on keeping me here until something happens. They haven’t tried to force me to change yet, but I’m worried they might,” you said. You rested your head on your paws, your heart heavy. You’d been trying not to think about all the possibilities, but talking with Alpine was making you ponder all of the “what ifs”.

You and Alpine laid in comfortable silence until Bucky tapped on the glass. Both of you lifted your heads to look up at him, tails and ears twitching.

“Pretty girl, it’s time for Alpine to go. I just thought you might like a friend for a while,” he murmured. “It sounds like you two were excited to see each other.”

At the sound of her name, Alpine stood. She glanced back at you, and when Bucky started to open the invisible opening in the glass, she darted away to stand beside you.

“What are you doing?” you asked, getting to your feet.

If I stay away from the door, he has to come in to get me, right? You can get out then, she told you.

You’d never felt more grateful for your companion and you bumped her with your head. “Thank you,” you chirped. “I owe you.”

Alpine didn’t reply. She watched as Bucky sighed and tried to coerce her to come back, promising treats, toys, and endless acts of affection. No matter what he offered, she never left your side.

“Come on, Alp,” Bucky groaned. He climbed up into the cell through a different, larger door in the glass and approached you and Alpine. “I can’t leave you in here.”

She dashed away as soon as he got close, leading him towards the far corner of the room. You went the opposite direction and slipped out the door. Bucky wasn’t fast enough to catch you and you ran through the lab, looking for a way out. His footsteps shook the floor as you sprinted under tables and around cabinets and chairs. He gained on you quickly.

“Stop! Pretty girl, stop! You’re going to get hurt!”

The hydraulic doors opened with a hiss and you took your shot, running as fast as you could towards them. Steve never saw you coming. You made it out into the hallway and into the stairwell with both heroes on your tail. They were faster than you, that was a given, but you were smaller, more agile, and you had a different perspective. You could see places, openings, that they never would at their height.

You went through the first open door in the stairwell and took off down that hallway, heading away from the sound of voices and laughter. A soft red light came from an open doorway near the end of the hall and you steeled yourself, hoping it was an exit sign. When you raced through the doorway and into the room, however, you realized that it was a bedroom. 

Wanda Maximoff sat on the bed, her hands twisting a sphere of red light in midair as she watched whatever was on her TV. She cast a glance your way, then out into the hallway where Steve and Bucky were shouting for you. You scurried under the bed before she could say or do anything. 

It had been a long time since you’d done any kind of running and your heart pounded in your chest as you waited underneath Wanda’s bed. You listened intently for the sound of footsteps in the hallway nearing her room. When the two men finally arrived, you tried to hold your breath as much as possible.

“Have you seen a cat anywhere?” Steve asked, panting.

Wanda shifted on the bed above you and you froze.

“A cat?” she asked. “Doesn’t Bucky have a cat? A white one?”

“There are two,” Bucky replied, also breathing heavily. “We’re looking for the other. She escaped and we need her back. We think she’s enhanced.”

That must’ve piqued Wanda’s curiosity, because she shut the TV off. “An enhanced cat?”

Steve replied this time as Bucky looked around the room, then out into the hallway. You watched their feet from under the bed. “An enhanced woman who can change into a cat,” he explained.

“I don’t think she’s in here, Steve,” Bucky said. “Maybe she went the other way, towards Tony’s lab. She could’ve heard the voices and hoped it was the way out.”

A few moments later, both men left. You watched in total silence, crouched under the bed as their feet disappeared outside the doorway. The TV turned back on.

“You can come out now, котенок,” Wanda said, her voice soft.

Slowly, you crept out from under the bed and looked around. Her room was warm and cozy, with hanging lanterns and a guitar propped in the corner. You turned around to look at her.

Wanda regarded you with a gentle smile. “You must be our enhanced cat,” she said, and you bristled. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn you in. I know what it’s like to be hunted.”

She stood and you backed away, but she held up her hands to show you she meant no harm. You continued to watch her, curious, as she went around the end of the bed to a low desk, where she grabbed a notebook and a pen. Silently, she scribbled on the notebook, then brought it over and placed it near you on the floor. She sat cross-legged beside it.

“I can’t see your thoughts, but if you’re enhanced, I’m assuming you can understand me. This is yes and this is no.” Wanda pointed to the notebook and you crept closer, peering at it. She’d drawn out and labeled two boxes, one for yes and one for no.

“Can you understand me?” she asked.

You hesitated. Wanda seemed nice, but you didn’t know much about her. You had no bond with her whatsoever. It would be easy for her to turn you over to Steve and Bucky once she knew what you were capable of. On the other hand, she’d just covered for you without even knowing who or what you were.

Reaching out, you placed your paw on the “yes” box. Wanda smiled wide.

“That’s good. Thank you. Are you hurt?”

You batted at the box for no and moved a little closer, settling back on your haunches so you would be a little more comfortable while you answered her questions.

For almost an hour, Wanda asked you questions and you answered them with “yes” or “no”. She seemed incredibly pleased that you’d gone along with her idea, and by the time FRIDAY announced that Wanda was needed in the conference room for a team meeting, she knew more about you than most people did. You found her easy to talk to.

“I have to go now, ​​котенок,” she said. “I’ll be back later with some food for you. Please stay hidden.”

You pressed your paw to the box for “yes”, then stepped over the paper to bump your head against Wanda’s hand. She obliged, running her hand over your back, and you let out a low purr at the feeling. You’d grown so used to Bucky’s endless affection for you and Alpine that on top of everything else, you were uneasy and on edge due to the lack of contact.

Wanda scratched behind your ears before standing and grabbing her phone, then leaving the room. You wandered around for a few minutes before deciding to play it safe and hide under the bed while she was gone.

“Котенок? Are you still here?” 

You blinked your eyes open and stretched, yawning before carefully coming out from under the bed. Wanda smiled wide when you emerged.

“I was worried you’d left,” she said.

Blinking up at her, you batted the “no” box on the notebook before weaving around her legs, brushing up against her to let her know you were happy she’d come back alone. Wanda leaned down and ran her hand over your back, then set down a bowl of food.

“I wasn’t sure what you would like. Is this okay?”

You sniffed the food, then pressed your paw against “yes” and started to eat. She seemed satisfied and as you wolfed down the food, Wanda turned the TV back on. She watched in silence until you jumped up beside her on the bed and laid down, watching with her. You’d seen the episode already, however, and it didn’t take long for you to doze off in the comfort and safety of her presence.

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[just-dreaming-marvel]

A Terrible Accident ~ Part 2

A TERRIBLE ACCIDENT MASTERLIST

< previous part

Word Count: 1,765ish

Summary: The almost immediate aftermath of the terrible accident.

Warnings: talk of rape, abuse, trauma

Notes: Sorry that it's taken so long for this part to come out! I'm actually really scared of what people will think of this part... please be nice...

Due to having to move you, the doctor gave you medication so that you could sleep. Tony and Pepper didn’t leave your side as you were moved to the medical wing of the compound. Some of the other team members caught sight of you being pushed into the medical wing and rushed over.

“What happened?” Natasha asked, her eyes scanning you in horror.

“Sexual assault,” Pepper responded.

“What?” Steve asked. “Who could have done this and when? She was supposed to be with—“

“Boss,” FRIDAY interrupted, “I have the results you asked for.”

“I want the name of the bastard who did this now,” Tony ordered.

“I suggest that you read the results in the other room.”

“Tell me the results now FRIDAY.”

“Are you sure, Boss? I still think—“

“Now FRIDAY!”

FRIDAY was silent for a moment. “The test results came up with Sargent James Buchanan Barnes as the assailant.”

Gasps and murmurs of unbelievable filled the room.

“Impossible,” Steve whispered, shaking his head. “Bucky would never—FRIDAY, run them again.”

“Unfortunately, Captain Rogers, I have run the tests multiple times,” the AI replied. “The results were a hundred percent match every time.”

“Where is Barnes now?” Tony growled.

“He is in his room.”

“Don’t let him leave. And send a suit up there, just in case.” Tony stormed out with Steve and Sam on his tail.

“Tony, there’s got to be a reasonable explanation,” Steve tried to reason.

“A reasonable explanation for that?! Did you truly see her, Rogers?! Barnes put her in a hospital bed! He raped her!”

“I don’t believe that Bucky would really do that.”

“Steve, but Bucky did,” Sam tried. “Yes, we shouldn’t go in there guns a blazing, but Bucky was the one to put her in that hospital bed.”

“Bucky loves Y/N! He would never—“

“I did it.” 

Bucky’s broken voice cut off Steve. The men’s heads snapped in Bucky’s direction. They noted the blood on him.

“I hurt her.” Tears slipped down his face. “It was me.”

“FRIDAY, call for reinforcements,” Tony ordered.

“There’s no need for that,” Steve insisted.

“Actually, there is,” Bucky admitted. “And you should call Shuri because the Winter Soldier is back.”

~~~

Your eyes opened slowly as you finally came to. Glancing around, you saw Natasha and Wanda sitting on chairs on opposite sides of your bed. You knew that you were back at the compound. Wanda’s eyes snapped to yours as she sensed you awake.

“Hey, there,” she smiled softly as she moved her chair closer. This caused Natasha to do the same. You opened your mouth to speak but Wanda quickly stopped you, “Don’t talk. There was damage done to your throat.” 

You gave a small nod, grimacing.

“Are you in any pain?” Natasha asked.

You made no move to answer. Your eyes scanned the room, filling with tears at just the simple thought and action of whom you were looking for. Natasha and Wanda shared a sad look.

“Can we get you anything?” Wanda wondered.

You ignored the question, looking past them at the door. You knew you shouldn’t want Bucky’s comfort right now, but it’s all you were craving. Years ago, you had separated the Winter Soldier and Bucky. They were two different people, like Jekyll and Hyde, sharing a body but with different personalities, and different backstories. Others had a hard time separating the two, including Bucky himself, but you knew they were two different beings trapped in the same body.

“Y/N,” Natasha tried and failed to get your attention. She sighed, sharing another look with Wanda. Neither of them knew what to do or how to help you. “Do you want food?” No response. “We can turn on the tv and watch a show. What do you want to watch?”

“Nothing,” you rasped, talking though you knew you shouldn’t. You looked at Natasha, tears slipping out of your eyes. “Just… want… B—Bucky…”

“He’ll be here when he’s able,” Wanda tried to comfort, not necessarily trying to lie to you. “Now, you need to let your throat rest. If you need to say something, just signal to me and I’ll read your mind.”

You went to argue but Natasha cut you off, “She’s serious Y/N. Talking going to make the damage worse.” You looked at her with the saddest eyes Natasha believed to have ever seen. “I know you want Bucky… we’ll see what we can do.”

~~~

“You don’t need to be locked in there, Bucky,” Steve tried. 

Bucky had locked himself in one of the cells in the compound’s lower levels. FRIDAY was in charge of the door and the window. Bucky had the AI black it out as soon as he had entered, making Steve angry.

“You’re right, Rogers,” Tony’s anger was clear. “He should be locked in Raft.”

“We are not locking him in Raft!” Steve argued.

Bucky was in the cell, sitting on the floor in one of the corners, with his head in his hands. He listened to them argue. Honestly, he agreed with Tony. He was a danger and should be locked in Raft. He had hurt you with his own body. Someone he had promised to take care of and keep safe.

“He raped Y/N!” Tony shouted. “He’s not getting out of a cell. Ever.”

“We don’t know what happened,” Steve was trying to give his best friend the benefit of the doubt, even after he had admitted to doing it. He knew that something else had to have happened in order for Bucky to go this far.

“When is Shuri supposed to get here?” Sam asked, trying to be the calm, neutral person in the situation.

“Within the next hour,” Tony answered.

“I think we need to focus on Y/N until Shuri gets here. Who’s up there with her right now?”

“Natasha and Wanda,” Steve responded. “One of us should probably—

“Wanda wanted me to inform you that Y/N is awake,” Vision stated as he suddenly appeared from the ceiling.

Sam jumped slightly at the suddenness of it all. “You can’t do that man!”

“My apologies.”

“How is she doing?” Steve asked.

“Wanda says that Y/N is not well… she has asked for Bucky.”

Tony scoffed. “Like I’d let him anywhere near her.”

That didn’t sit well with Steve. “If she’s asking for him, then perhaps—“

“I’m not going anywhere near her,” Bucky’s voice broke through the speakers, having heard everything from inside the cell. “Ever.”

“Bucky, please—“

“I don’t want to see her. Tell her I’m sorry… but it’s over.”

~~~

“Where is my White Wolf?” Share asked as she burst into the compound. “And why have you ruined all the work I’ve done on him?”

“I am so glad to see you, Shuri,” Steve told her with a small smile. “Bucky has locked himself in one of the detention cells on the lower level.”

“I need him in the lab.”

“Good luck getting him out of the cell. He’s not willing to get out, even if Stark allowed it.”

“Fine, I guess I will have to create a makeshift lab in your low-tech lower levels.”

“Please don’t say that in front of Stark, he’s already on edge.”

“How is Y/N?”

“Not well, in any aspect. She’s shut down and we haven’t even told her that Bucky doesn’t ever want to see her again. I’m worried.”

“I will have one of the doctors I brought take a look at her.”

“I would appreciate that very much.”

“Though, I’m afraid we can only really help her with any physical injuries not emotional or mental.”

“I understand.”

“We are going to fix this, Steve.”

“I hope so.”

~~~

“Hey, kid,” Tony greeted, leaning on the door of your room in the medical wing. You were staring out the window that allowed you to see the hallway, not giving him a response. “Have you eaten?” No response. “Where did Red and the Witch go?” Again, no response. Tony sighed as he pushed himself off the frame and headed into the room. He sat on the edge of your bed, but you continued to look past him. “We need to talk… Barnes isn’t coming to see you.” This got your attention, your eyes snapping to look at him.

“Why?” You rasped.

Tony knew how much you loved Bucky. Yes, he was currently so damn angry at the man, but Tony was prepared to be the bad guy in this case. Bucky choosing not to see you would crush you too much. “It’s too dangerous. He hurt you, Y/N. He is not allowed to be near you.”

Tears spilled freely down your face. “You can’t do this.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, it’s for your own good.”

“I hate you. I hate you! You can’t do this!” You didn’t care that your throat was burning, screaming at you to stop talking, especially as you got louder. “I need to see him, Tony! He didn’t do this!”

“But he did. Your bruises are his handprints. His DNA was found all over you. He did this.”

“No! No! It was the Soldier! They’re two different people! It wasn’t Bucky!” Your cries were turning into sobs. “It wasn’t him!”

“It was though, sweetheart, and he’s not going to be allowed to see you for a while. If ever.”

“NO! Get out! Get out!” Even with a cast on one of your wrists, you started hitting Tony. “I hate you! I hate you!”

“What’s going on in here?” Natasha asked as she rushed in.

“I want him out! Get him out!”

“I’m just trying to keep you safe, Y/N,” Tony argued, grabbing onto your thrashing arms. “It’s only because I care.”

“Come on, Tony,” Natasha said, pulling him away from you. She pulled him out into the hallway, shutting the door behind them as your sobs and shouting grew. “What did you do?”

“I told her that I’m not allowing Barnes near her.”

“I thought Bucky said that he doesn’t want to see her?” Realization dawned on Nat. “You’re taking the fall.”

“Her reaction would have been worse if she knew that Barnes didn’t want to see her ever again. I’m okay with taking the blame on this one. She can hate me, that’s okay.” They turned to glance back at the room you were in. “No matter what she believes, Barnes hurt her and I wasn’t about to let him hurt her anymore.”

“I don’t know if she’ll recover from this, Tony. I don’t think either of them will.”

Tony sighed. “Honestly… I believe you’re right.”

next part >

[dispatchvampire]

Damsel in This Dress

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x FemaleOC

Warnings: Not many, probably mostly swearing. This is just a bit of fluff.

Rating: PG-13 mostly for language

WC: 1000-ish.

Summary: Layla finds herself stranded at a Stark gala, with her terrible ex circling like a shark. Enter an unlikely savior in the form of one smoking hot Winter Soldier.

Most people would be absolutely elated to be a guest at a Tony Stark party. All the glitz and glamour, celebrities at every turn and, in Layla’s case, not a single place to hide, dammit. 

She wasn’t there as an actual guest, really a plus one for her parents, who actually were the guests of Mr. Stark as newly minted business partners. They just merged the R&D department of their alternative energy company to Stark Industries, where she was due to start work in the following weeks. By all rights, Layla should be over the moon with the trajectory of her life. 

‘Should’ being the operative word. No, the rain on her parade came in the form of Charleton Zednik, son and heir apparent of a separate business partner of both her parents and Mr. Stark. He also happened to be her absolutely abysmal ex. 

As tight as her cocktail dress was, somehow Charleton managed to cling even more tenaciously. 

Maybe it wasn’t the most charitable thought, but she’d rather have a raging case of herpes than carry on one more day with his bland ass. He was so rigid, she wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t shatter if he hit the ground for any reason, and what he lacked in imagination, he more than made up for in possessive personality. Since she’d broken up with him over two weeks ago, he’d been blowing up her phone, her socials, and had even had her parents lobbying on his behalf. 

On paper, they were the perfect couple, two scions of an up-and-coming green energy revolution, and if arranged marriage was still a thing, Layla knew she would have been out the door the moment Charleton first looked in her direction. Her parents meant well, she knew, but damn if they weren’t still unreasonably old school about some things. 

It was late in the evening and she found herself alone, at the bar, relishing her reprieve as Charleton had to step away and take a work call. Hopefully he’d be gone long enough for her Uber to arrive so she could make a break for it. She ordered a double lemon drop while she waited. 

“You look how I feel,” a gruff male voice beside her remarked as her martini glass appeared in front of her. “Are you okay?”

Layla was mid-sip as she turned to reply to the kind inquiry and promptly choked on her drink. In front of her was Bucky Goddamn Barnes. The Winter-Fucking-Soldier, all six feet four inches of him, in an impeccably tailored tux, with his luscious dark hair artfully tied back and sea-glass blue eyes soft with concern. 

Flailing for a napkin, she nodded her thanks as he pressed several into her hand. “Um, yeah. Thanks,” she choked out as she blotted her face and attempted to quell her mess. “Sorry. Really. I’m fine.”

“All evidence to the contrary aside.” His smirk should be registered as a lethal weapon. 

Layla ducked her head, snickering even as her cheeks filled with mortified heat. “Right.” She sipped her drink again, regaining her composure enough to look the man in the face when a movement over his shoulder caught her eye. 

Whatever her face did in that moment must have been dramatic, because Bucky immediately moved closer to her and glanced quickly over his shoulder. Taking a hold of her elbow, he shifted to put himself between the approaching man and her. “Do you need to leave?” 

Charleton’s eyes met hers across the room and the scowl on his face grew in intensity as he sped up his approach. Layla looked up at Bucky, who appeared poised to deal with whatever answer she gave him. “Yes please.” 

He nodded once and threw a twenty on the bar. “Let’s go.” Gently, he ferried her through the room, the path in front of him opening up as if by magic. If that magic could be attributed to a scowling former assassin with a beautiful woman on his arm. 

In no time at all, you were both in the elevator watching the city lights fade on the ride to one of the upper floors. For all that he’d been in her space to get her there, the moment the doors closed, he stepped away and maintained a respectful distance. 

“Why are we going upstairs? Why not just hustle me out of the building?” 

“He saw us together, right?” 

“Right…?

“Then chances are good he’s expecting us to make a break for it and leave, so he’ll likely head down to the lobby and to wait and make a scene there.” 

That did sound like him. She was suddenly tired. So, so tired. “So then where are we going?” 

“My place,” he replied as the elevator dinged to a halt. He held an arm out and allowed her to precede him onto the penthouse floor. “At least until he cools his jets and leaves.” 

“I don’t see that happening anytime soon,” she muttered, feeling both vexed at her ex and slightly exhilarated at the idea of being alone with Bucky. This was not how she saw her night going in the slightest, and suddenly wondered if she remembered to put on matching underwear. 

The giant gave her a million-watt grin as he tugged off his bowtie and tossed it onto the dining room table as he led her through the large, open concept room to the kitchen island. “Then you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

[sjsmith56]

Chance Encounter - Part 1

Summary: A chance encounter at a supermarket triggers a brief memory in Bucky. When he investigates he finds a link to his past.

Length: 4.5 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, named OFC, named OFC (child), named OMC

Warnings: Evidence of spousal abuse, forced marriage to a minor, feeling of familiarity for Bucky, HYDRA memories.

Author notes: This story started out as a meet cute but took a serious 180 degree turn.

🛒 🛻

The first time Bucky saw the young woman was in the supermarket, the big one with tall shelves full of everything the discerning customer would ever need. She stood in the middle of the aisle, looking like she was ready to cry and wringing her hands. Her whole look and manner seemed out of place in the modern environment, as her long dress skimmed the floor; its tiny floral print reminding Bucky of something the older women in the neighbourhood would wear when he was a boy, not something a woman of her age would choose in these modern times. Even her hair was different, braided, then coiled around her head and covered in a large dark kerchief. He watched for a moment, as she looked helplessly at the upper shelf, while people blithely walked past her, ignoring her confused and frightened face. A couple of times she tried to stand on the edge of the bottom shelf to reach the product she wanted on the top, but she still couldn’t reach it. Just as she was about to walk away, he came to her rescue.

“What can I help you get?” he asked, kindly.

She was startled at his approach and immediately looked down at the ground as she answered in a voice so muted that even he had trouble hearing it. “The onion soup mix, please. The large box.”

Easily reaching up, Bucky grabbed one of each of the three brands that had a large size. “Take your choice,” he said.

Grabbing the closest one she quickly put it in her cart and smiled briefly. When she looked up at him, she gasped, her face a bright red while she mumbled her thanks.

“No problem,” he answered, placing the other two boxes back up top. “Is there anything else on this aisle you need help with?”

She shook her head and pushed her cart quickly down the aisle away from him. As she slipped away around the corner she looked back, and he had a brief flashback of a moment when he was the Winter Soldier. There was something about the way she looked at him, then the memory was gone, and he was left puzzled at why she seemed even remotely familiar to him. Her body language hinted that she was either extremely introverted or was so terrified that the act of grocery shopping was a stretch for her. Certainly, she wasn’t comfortable inside the store and although he could empathize with that, having experienced it himself when he first began acclimating back to society, it wasn’t something he had witnessed in anyone else, not in the way she manifested it.

As he approached the line of cashiers, he saw she was already in the process of having her items rung through. Each sound of the scanner as it read the barcode made her jump a little, as if it was a foreign sound to her. When the total was announced, she pulled a change purse out of a pocket in her dress, opening it up, and carefully pulled some folded bills out of it, placing them on the surface of the counter as she separated the denominations. That was followed by several coin pieces as she tried to pay as close to the exact amount as possible. While the person who was bagging her purchases made small talk with the cashier, the woman looked nervously through the large window of the store to the parking lot, as if she was expecting someone to be waiting for her. With the last item bagged and her cart in front of her, she pushed it out the door but didn’t enter the parking lot. Instead, she sat on a bench, pulling the cart closely to her.

She was still there when Bucky exited with his own purchases. Looking mostly at the ground in front of her, she occasionally looked up whenever a vehicle entered the parking lot. He pushed his cart to his SUV, opening the back and slowly transferred his bags in, while still observing her. When a large black truck entered the parking lot, she looked up and for a moment a flash of fear appeared on her face, but she quickly stifled it and stood up, waiting for the truck to stop in front of her. A considerably older man got out, and right away Bucky knew there was something about him that was even more familiar. His hulking frame indicated someone used to dominating people, in the same way as a guard … a prison guard. The man barely glanced at her, just uttered a command and she got inside the truck, sitting in the back seat of the large cab, next to a child in a car seat. He transferred the groceries to the truck box, then got back in, not even returning the cart to where the others were nestled together at the cart station. Bucky pushed his cart towards it, looked at the licence plate and watched as the truck pulled away from the front of the store and left the parking lot. Back in his vehicle, he dialled Sam.

“Hey, what’s up?” asked his partner. “You’re not bored already. You’ve only been home a day.”

“No, I need you to access the vehicle database,” said Bucky. “Had an encounter with someone today and it brought up a brief memory of when I was the Winter Soldier. She was picked up by a man whose face reinforced that feeling. I have his licence plate number.”

“You think they’re HYDRA?” asked Sam, his voice becoming more businesslike.

“I don’t know. She seemed out of place, like being in a supermarket was something totally foreign to her. She was terrified of it, Sam; the same way I was when I first got away. If she’s HYDRA, it’s not by choice. The guy, however, gave off completely different vibes.”

Once Sam was logged in Bucky gave him the licence plate number and vehicle description. The name it was registered to meant nothing to Bucky, but Sam ran it through another database, bringing up a picture that he texted to his partner.

“Yeah, that’s him,” said the former Winter Soldier. “There’s something familiar about him but I can’t place it. Maybe it’s in a repressed memory or something still fragmented.”

“Leave it with me,” said Sam. “I’ll do some digging and start up a file on this guy. You going to put them under surveillance?”

“Something like that,” answered Bucky. “You might as well come up when you have some intel.”

For the longest time after Sam hung up, Bucky looked at the image of the man on his phone, Sergei Ivanov, age 53. There was something definitely familiar about him, something chilling. Recalling the look of fear on the woman’s face when the truck first appeared he was sure that she wasn’t with the guy freely. He could look in his cloud storage for the HYDRA files he had but without a context to the two people, it would be a slow process. If he could just remember why they seemed familiar and from where, perhaps he could narrow it down.

After returning home and eating dinner he changed into something more suitable for surveillance. Looking up the address that Sam pulled from the truck registration he headed out. As it wasn’t far, he didn’t use his own vehicle, primarily so it wouldn’t be seen and identified as belonging to him. Instead, he took the subway for one stop, then walked the rest of the way, checking out the neighbourhood, assessing the exit points if things led to a confrontation. Not that he was planning for it, but if this guy did turn out to be ex-HYDRA, then he was going to assume the man had combat skills.

Staying in the shadows as it got darker, Bucky approached closer to the address, a square, ugly building with cheap siding on it. Everything about it on the outside screamed that it was the type of place you wouldn’t want your family living in but by what he could see through the narrow slats of the blinds on the windows the man in the truck lived here with the woman from the supermarket, along with the small child, sitting in a booster chair as she ate. The man finished his plate, then gestured to the woman. Quickly, she stood up, but it wasn’t quick enough for him and he struck her with the back of his hand. Bucky curled his fists up tight when he saw that, then he heard the man’s yelled words to the woman, words that were said in Russian.

“I should have left you to rot there with your parents,” he spewed as she attempted to keep from crying, while hurriedly transferring more food for him onto his plate. “You’re useless, just like your idiot father when he got a stupid idea and sealed his fate.”

She put the full plate of food on the table, then slunk back to a corner of the kitchen, watching him with fearful eyes, as he continued to snarl at her while eating his meal. She began making a lunch for him, three sandwiches, fruit, and cookies, along with a thermos of coffee. Packing it into a metal lunch box, she put it on a table near the door, then backed away again, out of his sightline, and out of his reach. The man finished his meal, looking at her and shaking his head in disgust before leaving the kitchen. Bucky followed the man’s path in the house through the window, seeing him enter a bathroom and closing the door. When he looked back at the woman, she rubbed her cheek and cried silently, before picking up the child and kissing it, fussing over it.

A sound from the bathroom, probably the toilet flushing, alerted her to the man’s imminent appearance and she quickly put the child back in the booster seat, whispering to it. Her face was obscured so Bucky could only assume she was telling the child to stay quiet. The bathroom door opened, and the man came out, going to the bedroom, coming out dressed in a security guard’s uniform. According to the patch on his jacket arm he worked for Marina Security. Returning to the kitchen, the man picked up his lunchbox and thermos, sneered at the woman again and left.

Dropping back into the shadows, Bucky watched the man get into his truck, light up a cigarette, and start the vehicle before he drove away. Back at the window he could see the woman was still in the kitchen, sitting at the table with her face in her hands. There was still no memory of where Bucky had seen the man or the woman before, but he did know one thing. He wasn’t going to leave her there, not with that man using violence against her so easily. Coming out of the shadows he approached the door and knocked on it. It took several long moments before she opened it but when she did her eyes opened wide.

“Soldier?” she asked. “Is it you? Is it really you?”

“It’s who I was,” he replied. “I’m not him anymore. You know me?”

It took a moment for her to realize that he didn’t remember her, and she stepped back, making it possible for him to enter. Closing and locking the door behind him, she stepped past and walked into the kitchen, picking up the child, who just stared at Bucky without fear.

“I’m Katrina,” she said, with the slightest of Russian accents. “You killed my parents.”

Those words hit Bucky hard, even though they were said calmly, without fear. A heat filled him up inside as he felt sick at her revelation. His mouth was dry, and he licked his lips, trying to find a way to answer her statement.

“I don’t remember,” he finally said.

With a sad smile, she nodded, then swallowed. “Sergei said they tried to help you get away from HYDRA about a year before you were recognized, so he betrayed them, and turned them over to the man who was your handler in America. They processed you to perform the execution, wanting them to be an example to anyone else who thought of helping you. Sergei took me back to Russia in 2014 and forced me to be his wife. A year ago, someone contacted him, said they found you here, in New York, because of the Flag Smashers. He came back here with me and my daughter. You must leave before they find you.”

“You’re coming with me,” said Bucky. “I saw how he treated you and I’m not leaving you here.”

A genuine smile appeared on her face, but she shook her head. “He’ll find me. He always does. If I’m with you, then he’ll find you and he will say the words to turn you.”

“They don’t work anymore,” replied Bucky. “I’m in control and I will never be their weapon again. Katrina, you’re terrified of him, and it won’t be long before he turns his anger on your daughter. You know that, right?”

She nodded her head slightly. “He was angry that I didn’t give him a child for so long, then he was angry it wasn’t a son. She’s only three but she already knows he’s not to be trusted.”

“I have friends,” said Bucky. “We’ll protect you. Please.”

She considered his plea, studying his face for some time, then nodded and went into the bedroom, to pack for herself and her daughter, Anna. When she was finished packing, she came back out to the kitchen, stopping in front of a locked cabinet. She looked at Bucky’s left hand.

“Can you break the lock?” she asked.

“Why?”

“I need what’s in here,” she said. “It’s a supplement that Anna and I take every day, during breakfast. Sergei said if we don’t take it then our health will suffer. I don’t know if that’s entirely true, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

Taking hold of the lock in his left hand, Bucky twisted it, tearing it off the door. Katrina opened it to show several unmarked boxes. She pulled them out, then took an already opened bottle that had English handwriting on it. Suppressants for Subject Alpha / Delta / 1. She looked up at Bucky.

“I think I’m Subject Alpha / Delta / 1. Sergei would never say but I know he took these from the base outside Washington and hid them with someone. We were almost out of them in Russia, because he started giving them to Anna about a year ago, and this is all that’s left here.”

“We’ll take them all,” said Bucky, looking for a cloth shopping bag and placing all the boxes and the single bottle inside.

He took the bag and the suitcase, while she picked up Anna. With a final shudder at the cheap accommodations, she went through the door without a backwards look. They walked to the nearest train station, boarding it, and getting off near his flat. Even dressed as they were nobody gave them a second look. They waited briefly in the shadows, while Bucky scanned the area around his residence. Satisfied that nothing was out of place he escorted her into the building, and up the elevator to his floor. Once they were inside, he put her suitcase in the bedroom, pulling out some sweatpants and a T-shirt for himself to wear.

“You and your daughter take the bed,” he said. “I’ll take the couch. Tomorrow, I’ll take you someplace safe, I promise.”

“Soldier,” she began.

He interrupted her. “My name is James Buchanan Barnes. You can call me Bucky. I’m not the Winter Soldier anymore.” He took a ragged breath. “I’m sorry for what I did to your parents. I don’t remember it, but I never had a choice in any of my missions. I still did it, and I accept that responsibility.”

“Bucky,” she said, then she smiled. “I never blamed you for their deaths. You were just the weapon they used.” She looked at her daughter. “I should get her to bed but I would like to talk to you after. Can we do that?”

He nodded and as she prepared the child for sleep, he changed out of his clothing into his comfortable clothes. When she came out of the bedroom, and closed the door, she was also changed, wearing a long-sleeved nightgown. Bucky handed her a throw from the couch as she sat at one end of it and him the other. It took several moments of awkward silence, but he finally turned to her.

“Who were your parents?”

“Irina and Pavel Medvedev, technicians; Papa worked on the cryogenics crew while Mama worked on your arm. They were brought here from Russia, and I was born here in 1998. I didn’t see you often, but when I did, you would watch me. One time, I was playing outside the base building near Washington, as you were escorted out. The guards were ready to kick me out of the way, but you stopped them, even pushed the one man into a fence. Then you waited while I picked up my toys. After that, it seemed like you always watched out for me. We never spoke or interacted that I can remember, but you wouldn’t let them bully me or abuse me.”

“I had a sister,” said Bucky. “13 years younger than me. Maybe you reminded me of her. You’re 26 years old now?” She nodded. “Where were you when your parents were working?”

“I was allowed to go to regular high school,” she smiled. “My parents tried to shield me as much as possible and give me a normal life, but I knew it wasn’t a good place. I always had people watching me, making sure I didn’t say anything about the base, or my parents’ work, or you. Pierce even came to see me several times.” She became solemn then and her lips trembled. “He did say I had a purpose and that when I graduated from high school, I would be brought into the fold. It didn’t happen as he was killed, you escaped, and HYDRA fell apart. That’s when Sergei came and took me away. He said I would be arrested but he could get me to safety. It didn’t take long for me to realize that he was a liar but by then I was in Russia, couldn’t speak the language very well, and he had my American passport.”

“He’s abused you since then, hasn’t he?” asked Bucky.

She nodded. “I was to dress modestly, behave as if I were invisible, don’t speak unless I was spoken to, cook, clean, and keep his house, then submit to him whenever he demanded it. That has been my life for ten years. I had resigned myself to living this way forever.”

The sound of defeat in her voice both saddened and angered him. Yes, her parents were HYDRA but obviously they were not true believers, not if they tried to help him, or they protected her from what was really happening.

“What did Sergei do for HYDRA?” he asked.

“He was part of the guard detail on you,” she answered. “He didn’t like you and I would hear my parents talk of how he would torment you when he thought no one was watching. Several times, he mentioned doing things to you … terrible things that I’m ashamed to repeat.”

“Don’t say them. I have access to the HYDRA files, and I’ll look it up if I want to know. I remember almost all of my victims, but I don’t remember them so either they were wiped completely from my memories or … or they weren’t my victims.”

She shifted more towards him when he said that. “I saw you do it. Pierce ordered everyone to witness it. He said it was an object lesson.”

He looked away, feeling shame that she had been forced to see that when she was so young.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I was responsible for so much death.”

“Bucky, even I knew you had no choice.”

When Katrina began yawning, he encouraged her to go to bed. They could talk more in the morning. Once she was in the bedroom Bucky texted her name, her age, and her parent’s names to Sam, telling him of their HYDRA connection. Then he laid back on his couch, using a cushion for his pillow, and the throw blanket for his cover. It was some time before he fell asleep as he kept thinking there was more to her than even she knew. She was familiar to him, that was certain.

He woke to the touch of a very small but soft hand on his cheek. Opening his eyes, he found himself looking at the face of 3-year-old Anna, who smiled at him.

“Hello,” he said. “What are you doing up?”

“Toast,” she declared. “I want toast.”

“Okay,” he said, standing up. He looked at the time. It was early but not too early for him. “Let’s get you some toast.”

She waited for him to get off the couch and he sat her on a dining chair, telling her to stay while he went to the bathroom. When he came out, she was still sitting patiently. He opened his freezer, pulling out a couple of slices of bread, popping them into the toaster. Since he didn’t know if she had a peanut allergy, he took a jar of strawberry jam out of the fridge.

“You like jam?” he asked. She nodded her head. “Milk?” She nodded her head again. He had another thought while they waited for the toast. “Do you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Yes,” she said, sliding off backwards from the chair.

Taking her hand, he took her to the bathroom, then took a look under her nightgown, noticing she wore a pull up diaper that was wet. Looking away, he slid the diaper off, then sat her on the toilet. Folding up the wet diaper, he put it in the garbage, then opened the door to the bedroom, where Katrina was still asleep. Inside the open suitcase were several unused diapers and he grabbed one, closing the door quietly behind him. When he got back to the bathroom, Anna was still sitting there.

“Are you done?” he asked. “Did you do number 1 or number 2?”

“Number 1,” she answered, putting up one finger. “Toilet paper, please.”

He took some off the roll and handed it to her, looking away while she took care of that, then he put the pull up over her feet, before lifting her off and pulling it up the rest of the way. She stepped close to the toilet to flush it, then smiled at him.

“Good girl,” he said. “Wash your hands.”

He squeezed some liquid soap on her hands, then watched, amused, as she rubbed them together to distribute it. Turning on the water, he held her up so she could rinse the soap off her hands, then dried them with a towel. By the time they got back out to the kitchen the toast was up and he spread jam on it, then cut the slices into quarters, poured her some milk and watched as she devoured the food.

“More?” she asked.

“Do you like eggs?” he asked, thinking some protein would fill her up.

“Yes.”

She smiled sweetly at him, so he pulled the carton of eggs out and made her a cheese omelet, cutting it into pieces for her. While she ate, he made himself an omelet, dicing some onions, peppers, and ham into it, along with the cheese that he always bought pre-shredded. By the time he finished making it she was done, and she looked at him again.

“More please.”

“You’re still hungry?”

She nodded and he kneeled down to her level, looking closely at her. Her eyes were slightly different from the previous evening, as if a different colour was bleeding through. Not only that, he was very aware of her scent, of how much she smelled like her mother, but there was also something else there, something familiar. He cut his omelet up into small bits and moved the plate in front of her, watching as she ate the whole thing.

“Anna, where is she?”

Katrina was standing in the bedroom doorway, almost panicking, then appeared relieved when she saw her daughter. Bucky stood up and looked closely at the woman, noticing changes in her as well, particularly in her eyes. They had started changing colour, just very subtly.

“What?” she asked, noticing how he stared at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Your eyes are changing colour,” he replied. “Both of you. Anna’s also very hungry and has eaten more than an adult for breakfast.”

“Did you give her a pill?”

“No, I didn’t think of it,” he said, watching as Katrina took the bottle out of the shopping bag and removed a green pill from it.

She looked for a glass, filling it with water then offered the pill to Anna, watching carefully as she took it and drank the glass of water. She took one herself then continued to watch Anna carefully, especially in the eyes and began acting normally again as the girl’s eyes went back to their dark brown colour.

“Next time, make sure she has it before you feed her,” she said to Bucky. “Otherwise, she will have a tantrum as her hunger takes over.”

“Who are you, really?” He stared at her, noticing her eyes were also returning to their original colour. “That child ate as much food as I do, and both of your eyes were changing colour, and are now going back to their original colour.

“I don’t really know who I am,” she admitted, seeming distressed. “Everything I told you last night is what I know or remember. Yes, sometimes we get hungry, very hungry to the point of eating everything we can see. I can control it, but Anna is just a child and if she doesn’t get what she wants then she has a tantrum. I don’t know what happens if her tantrum gets out of control because Sergei never let it get that far. There is so much that I had questions about, but he never gave me an answer.”

“Then I’ll take you to someone who can find out the truth,” he said.

He wanted to believe her. Everything in his training indicated she was telling the truth but there was something off about her and the child. Perhaps, it was something that was deliberately kept from her as she grew up. There was only one way to find out and that was going to involve a bit of a drive. He was going to take them to the compound.

Part 2>>

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[murder-popsicle]

Self vs. non-self (and the integration of the Winter Soldier into Bucky Barnes)

As you pointed out in your question, my Bucky has incorporated the Winter Soldier into her self-identity. Whereas MCU!Bucky says, "I am not the Winter Soldier anymore," my Bucky, like 616!Bucky, has accepted that the Winter Soldier will always be a part of her. She's discussed this before with @invncibleiron's Tony -- that Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier aren't two separate personalities.

Bucky has come to the conclusion, looking back on her life, that the seeds of the Winter Soldier were always there. She's always had a certain ruthlessness to her, especially in defense of the people that she cares about. As a child in Brooklyn, that usually involved not being afraid to use her fists to teach someone who hurt her sisters or Steve or her friend Rosie Finn a lesson. She fought by trying to get the bullies on the ground or running away as quickly as possible, even if that meant breaking a nose or knocking out some teeth.

These people are mine. How dare you try to harm them?

Still, when she was young she did her best not to leave wounds that wouldn't heal. But the brutality of the war and the trauma from having been raped, tortured, and experimented on in the Red Skull's factory stripped away a lot of her younger self's qualms about that. She found that killing came easily to her, and also found that she didn't feel particularly bad about killing, either. It had to be done, so she did it -- competently, thoroughly, and without remorse. The Nazis and the Red Skull were murdering innocent people and causing untold suffering for those who survived. Bucky found that unconscionable, so she did everything she could to put a stop to it in the most permanent way possible. Dead Nazis can't kill again.

This world is mine. How dare you try to destroy it?

The pieces of Bucky that would comprise the Winter Soldier were already in place by the time she fell off that train. All that was left for Zola and Karpov to do was to strip away the parts of her that weren't the Winter Soldier. The Winter Soldier is just Bucky Barnes with her conscience, memory, and free will removed. The fact that she was already suffering from amnesia caused by the fall and her subsequent death made their job easier. It would have taken a lot more work to break a Bucky who could remember who she was and what she believed.

I think it's important to point out that, even as the Winter Soldier, she wasn't a bully. She was competent and brutally efficient, but when she was controlled by the Soviets she always made an effort to avoid collateral damage, and she clashed with her handlers over that tendency on more than one occasion. Alexander Pierce broke her of that habit, but even when she was under his control, she never took any joy in hurting people. She followed orders. She did the job that was assigned to her, because that was all she knew how to do, but she did it without passion or pleasure.

When she finally escaped from HYDRA and came back to herself, she had to come to terms with the fact that yes, she had been the Winter Soldier. More than that, she still was the Winter Soldier. So she decided to make use of that fact. Bucky has always been practical. She'll deploy any tool in her arsenal, and the Winter Soldier is now another tool that she can use. People are terrified of the Winter Soldier, so she'll use the name and the reputation to strike fear into the people she has to fight.

There's also one additional fact that Bucky knows but has never given voice to, which is this: She's seen some of the worst the world has to offer, humanity at its most wretched, cruelest, and most malicious. Based on those experiences, she's come to the conclusion that sometimes, to make the world better and to spare innocents from death and suffering, certain people have to die. And that being the case, she'll take the responsibility for killing those people, because she can bear it. She knows some of her friends, particularly Steve, would cut themselves up inside over having to make that call. So she'll make it instead to protect them.

[whatislovevavy]

WC: 4.4k

Synopsis: An exploration of why Bucky decided to cut his hair

AN: This has been in my Google Drive for about two years and finally got around/had the motivation to finish this. This piece was technically my first ever piece of fanfiction I ever wrote. My writing mostly pertains to Top Gun and Top Gun Maverick so this was a nice little brain break from that. I thought I'd include the original author's note I put together, having never written fanfiction at the time, just for nostalgic sake and if anyone wants to know just how new to this I was lol. Also this divider is not mine and I was unable to tag the account that made it since it was deleted. This work will be posted on my side blog @sophs-writing-nook.

Original Author’s Note: Hello everyone :) This is the first fanfiction I’ve ever written and I really hope you guys like it because I’m a bit nervous about it. I’ve had this idea since I saw the first promotions for the Falcon and Winter Soldier series and didn't really do anything about it for a variety of reasons. I haven’t seen a lot of fics exploring this concept so I decided to write this on a camping trip in my notes app where I didn’t have reception so I apologize if there is bad grammar, spelling errors, etc. If there happens to be a similarity to another fic, it is purely coincidence and I don’t intend to plagiarize anyone. Please let me know if it does appear I have. I have a lot of respect for fanfic writers and don’t want to disrespect anyone and steal anyone’s work unintentionally. 

Warnings: Blood, Trauma (PTSD), sadness with some bittersweet moments sprinkled in, supportive Sam because that’s a warning in itself. 

None of these characters are mine. Read at your own discretion.

Bucky had tried finding a routine after coming back: Get up by 7, go on a run make breakfast, try to keep in touch with his friends he had made since coming back, try a new recipe, maybe try online dating, catch up on what he missed the past 70 years, try to forgive himself for all the atrocities he didn't have a choice in committing, make dinner, shower, and sleep by 9.

That's what his therapist, Darlene, told him to do at least.

She wanted him to write in a journal the names of the people and families he wanted to make amends with, things he wanted to explore and try out, and good things he remembered before he was the Winter Soldier.

Darlene had kept encouraging him to keep referring to the Winter Soldier as if he were his own separate person, and not affiliated with James Buchanan Barnes.

It helped a bit with passing the blame, but not by much. He, naturally, chose the last remnant of Steve he had- his journal- to hold these thoughts.

Steve saw the best in him when he couldn't. 

He made an effort to try and forgive himself for everything he did, for Steve’s sake. 

Why Steve had left him, he didn't fully understand. 

It didn't make the "forgiving himself" part any easier. 

If his lifelong friend, who had been with him through thick and thin, decided to leave him now in this time of his broken, mutilated life, what did that say about him? 

Was he wrong about him? 

Did he truly believe he was worth being fixed and forgiven? 

There were small moments of hope that he could be fixed, but they were few and far inbetween.

His nightmares had gotten worse.

If Darlene would ask, he’d tell her, “no, they haven't", "they've stopped", or "I haven't had one for a while.” Bullshit excuses that anybody who saw the dark circles under his eyes wouldn't believe. Darlene knew he was lying and would try to reassure him that their space was safe and it would help him to get his nightmares out in the open.

He didn't think so.

This woman didn't know what it was like to have the same horrific scenarios play out in his mind every time he went to sleep. 

To see himself killing innocent people like he was in the backseat of his mind. 

The blood. 

Their faces, some close friends and others strangers. 

Their pleas and calls for mercy were what always broke him. 

He was forced again and again to witness himself taking their lives and couldn't do anything to stop himself. Forced to use any part of himself for Hydra.

Nothing was spared.

He felt unforgivable, these nightmares were a sign of the Winter Soldier still being in his head, buried and ready if Hydra got their hands on him again. 

He was tired of fighting and worrying, only wanting lasting peace and a full night's rest.

He had started renting an apartment in downtown Brooklyn near where his family had lived during the 40's. It was near the church cemetery his mother, father and sister, Rebecca, were buried. They were placed in the row closest to the street behind the church his family frequented during his youth. 

His parents had passed from old age when he was imprisoned by Hydra. 

A small part of him was thankful for that. 

They never had to learn that their son had done such horrible things.

They lived with the good memories of him.

His sister had passed during the time half the population was gone, the Blip people called it, from Alzheimer's. He visited her once before, but she was in the late stages, and was a shell of who he remembered growing up. 

His little sister Rebecca, whom he protected, opened jars for, teased, and made sure the boys she liked would be good to her, was now unable to remember him. He was told she passed peacefully in her sleep a few months after he disappeared.

Darlene thought that buying an apartment so close to his family's resting place might be overwhelming for him, but he wanted to be close to them and the memories he had.

The apartment consisted of a basic floor plan; kitchen, bathroom with a shower and bath, living room, bedroom, closet. However, he only used the kitchen, bathroom, and living room.

He didn't have many things when he moved in, and didn't feel he needed all the space allotted to him.

He had invested in a modest tv set, a microwave, blender, and a camping mat, courtesy of Sam's encouragement. 

He had tried sleeping on a mattress, but he felt that he was going to sink through into the floor with how soft and marshmallow-like it felt. He always slept on the floor with a few blankets and sheets. 

Sam had the same experience when he came back from Afghanistan.

Sam had tried to help him adjust to things since coming back, and had done a lot for him, including to help him find his apartment and encourage him to try new things.

There were times he had trouble getting out of his headspace to return Sam's calls and initiate with his friend. Darlene had been saying that for a person who allegedly had no one left, he seemed to have a safety net in Sam. She pushed him to call someone other than her and initiate with him. It was another case where he felt she didn't fully understand how difficult it was for him to build relationships, and "get his nightmares out in the open" since coming back.

He had gotten home late that night from the store, buying ingredients to make a recipe Darlene recommended: chicken tikka masala, he thought she called it.

He was amazed at the amount of change he had missed, especially from a grocery store. His family would boil everything with what minimal spices were available, other than the usual salt and pepper. He found solace in trying new recipes and exposing himself to the technological wonders of the 21st century, including learning how to use a DVD player and the iPhone he recently bought. He tried online dating but found it was too overwhelming and made him feel like a fish out of water. Asking people on dates and seeking relationships came easily to him when he was younger before the war, but everything felt so different now. 

He felt so different and foreign to himself. His arm. His mind. He felt like a shell of the person he was before the Winter Soldier.

His groceries were unloaded into the fridge and he started to prepare his dinner. He placed a bowl on the counter for mixing chicken marinade and marinating the soon to be cooked slices of chicken. The chicken slices were placed into a pan on a low heat to begin cooking. They wouldn't take long since they only had to cook halfway through initially. He gathered the spices for the marinade.

The soft smells of turmeric, ginger, cumin, and garam masala reminded him of the evenings he spent helping his mother cook during the summer. His mother would rummage together some cash every once in a while to buy a few sachets of spices from the local grocery. It was an indulgence she took part in that, compared to now, seemed simple and less of an everyday luxury. 

Sure, the spices she would bring home were more mild and less "exotic" than what he had available to him now, but it was the familiar memory of being taught to cook and the soft smells of his mother's cooking.

His conscience told him to use the spices sparingly despite himself being confronted with a substantially sized grocery aisle complete with spices from almost every corner of the world a mere few hours ago.

Maybe it was his upbringing during the Great Depression and watching his parents worry about where the next paycheck would come from.

Or maybe it was his instinct telling him this small semblance of peace he had found in his Brooklyn apartment would be snatched away, and that he needed to savor every new experience in stride. 

Because if he let himself enjoy them too much, it would make the snatching that much more painful.

He couldn't decide.

He finished the marinade and would have to wait an hour or two to start the sauce and cook the chicken. He placed it in the fridge and made his way to the bathroom for a shower.

The warm water felt nice on his warped, scarred flesh around his arm on his left side. The area would often become sore and plagued by knots. Sam recommended warm showers, aloe vera, a massage and spa place nearby, and Advil. The thought of people he didn't know touching his scarred flesh made him feel nervous, so the rest of his suggestions were his go to. 

His scar tissue and long hair were the last physical mark of Hydra on him. 

He was thankful he didn't have to see the red star that had branded him for so many years when he looked in the mirror anymore, since leaving Wakanda.

But there was still his hair.

His hair that had blood, dirt and grime stained into it for his 70 years of service. No matter how many times he showered, he knew the blood would never leave his hair or his hands. His mind would drift through waves of hopelessness in quiet moments like these more often than not.

He dried himself off with a soft towel, changed into a pair of boxers, and began to gingerly apply aloe vera to the junction where his arm met his shoulder. His shoulder was still a bit sensitive after all these years despite the enhanced healing from the serum. Shuri theorized it was because the metal cavity of his arm continuously tore through the underlying tissue. She was able to remove the bits and pieces of metal embedded in his shoulder. His arm was in the healing process, but it would take a while after years of damage even with the serum. After he finished rubbing in the aloe vera, He put on a dark t-shirt and made his way back into the kitchen to finish the sauce.

He carefully prepared the onions, garlic, and spices for the sauce the way his mother taught him to. 

He couldn't help but think about how his parents and sister would have loved to have tried this recipe with him.

He could almost hear his mother's voice in his head telling him to "cut the onions a bit smaller" or "don't let the garlic and onions burn in the pan".

Rebecca's eagerness to try the sauce prematurely with a perfected pout and whines of protest when denied so.

His father's quiet yet strong presence at the kitchen table reading the daily paper and soft scolding of his sister.

Steve drawing in his journal at the dinner table on evenings when Sarah Rogers would be working late at the hospital.

The radio softly playing in the background as a soothing ambiance.

The kitchen window opened to let the aroma of the Barnes’ family dinner wander through the back alley of the apartment building, and let in the sounds of the neighbors' soft conversations, clothes oscillating in the wind on the clothes line, and car engines humming as people made their way home at dusk.

All qualities of his family's evening routine and upbringing he longed for, but took for granted in his youth.

The stark smell of overcooked onions brought him back to the task at hand, pulling him from his thoughts but leaving his buildup of emotions he felt were about to rupture. He added the heavy cream, spices, brown sugar, and let them stir with the marinated onions and garlic. He felt tears start to form in his eyes. Letting the sauce thicken, he turned the pan onto a low heat, and added the marinated chicken to finish cooking. 

He placed the spatula down on the counter top with a shaky hand, placing his hands on the counter to support himself as he let out a shaky breath, blinking away tears that formed in the corners of his eyes.

God, he wished they were here with him. Steve. His mom. His dad. Rebecca.

He wished he had somebody who knew him before the Winter Soldier that could help him to pick up the broken pieces of himself and to become the person he was again.

He wished he could have said goodbye to his parents, Rebecca, and that Steve hadn't left him.

He wished he could've held his parents one last time before they passed, met the man that Rebecca fell in love with and had a family with, and fought harder for Steve to stay with him and help pick up the pieces.

All things that he couldn't do anything about now.

He wiped his tears away and returned to stirring his chicken masala. Thoughts of his family blending with the thoughts of his recipe like the spices and heavy cream in his pan as a cope. Darlene had mentioned that the recipe goes best with garlic buttered rice or naan, so he had bought ingredients for both, but opted for the naan. He turned on the oven, placed some naan from the store on a baking sheet, and into the oven before returning to stirring the contents of the pan. 

He remembered Sam wanted to come over and check in on how he was settling into his apartment, sometime the next day. Maybe he would want to try some of his dish. 

"Initiate, take small steps to initiate". This counted as initiating, right? He hoped so.

His chicken masala was well blended and deemed done. His naan close behind. He placed a bowl and plate on the counter, served up his recipe and naan, and sat down at his two person dinner table, and prepared to eat. Darlene had told him that making a makeshift taco with the naan tasted good if he opted to not make the garlic butter rice. He took his first bite and let himself experience each incredible flavor. 

He would definitely be making this recipe again.

Maybe he could make a batch for Sam. 

It would be a small way to return the favor.

He made his way through his dinner, and would start heading to bed soon. It was almost 9 anyway. Shuri told him that consistent good sleep would also help him heal mentally along with his therapy and the treatment she provided.

He made a mental note to try making the garlic butter rice, thank Darlene for the recipe, and ask her if she had any more favorite recipes he should try during his next session.

He brought his dishes to the sink, moved to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and shed himself of his shirt. Sleeping shirtless was normal for him both during the war and after getting the serum, finding that he would warm up easily and end up tossing and turning in the night. 

His escalated body heat helped him to survive the frigid Siberian winters during his imprisonment, but not the mild to warm summer nights in Brooklyn.

Laying on the hardwood floor with the lights out left him with his thoughts. He remembered the nights he and Steve spent laying on couch cushions on the living room floor of his parents apartment. 

The nights he and his sister would read The Hobbit under the covers of his bed when they were younger, while their parents thought they were sleeping. 

He liked to sleep with the TV on at a low volume and the window opened so he wouldn't be lost in his thoughts for too long. 

He didn't have as much trouble falling asleep as before. Darlene told him to take deep breaths while resting his eyes and had gotten better at it since seeing her. 

Breathe in for 5 seconds, exhale for 10, and repeat till he felt calm enough to drift to sleep.

He steadily awoke hours later, feeling warm and groggy.

 It was quiet. 

The TV was off and the window was shut. 

He was none the wiser in his hindered state of being as he lifted himself off of the floor and trudged to the bathroom, the soft sound of his bare feet pattering on the wood floor like rain drops on a window, encompassing his apartment in a soft echo.

He turned on the soft bathroom light and twisted the cold faucet on, leaned down and scooped cold water in his hand, and poured it on his face. Supporting himself by his forearms, he closed his eyes and relished in the feeling of cold on his face and cascading down his neck. 

The water felt warmer now and had a distinct iron smell to it.

He opened his eyes and was met with his hands drenched in blood. Blood flowing into the sink from the tap. 

He slowly turned to meet his reflection. Met with the cold, dark, blank eyes of the Winter Soldier. The blood stained leather vest, black muzzle, and the long brunette hair stained black from blood falling over his face. 

He was there with him, as clear as day. 

He felt a stark and deep rooted sense of fear awaken and burrow itself in his chest as he quickly retreated from the sink, pressing himself against the opposing wall. Eyes wide and breathing heavy, he felt the walls of the bathroom constricting him.

The Winter Soldier reached out his metal arm, severing the separation between the mirror and his bathroom, and brought it down onto the counter top with a resounding crack, small remnants of the cheap countertop tumbling to the floor. He lunged for the door and twisted the knob but it wouldn't budge. Desperately, he tried to break down the door, knuckles bleeding and eyes teary. He could feel the Winter Soldier getting closer to him and was too terrified to turn back and face him. He broke through the door with a splitting crack, splinters in his hands. Awaiting on the other side was a long dimly lit corridor lined with bars and cold concrete walls. 

His heart stopped. 

He knew this corridor. 

He would always know this corridor. 

He didn't want to go forward, but he had no choice. Breaking into a sprint, not looking back and praying he didn't trip over himself, he felt a sudden, strong grip on his leg, pulling him backwards. Landing on the hard concrete with a groan and turning himself to face his captor: Two dark, army clad figures awaited him. He shuffled away from them as fast as he could but couldn't get to his feet fast enough to avoid being dragged to by his feet towards the bathroom. His screams echoing off the walls, and hands burning from friction against the cement floor at his attempts to escape their grasp.

He couldn't believe what was happening, he thought he was free from Hydra. 

Free from these corridors. 

Free from the chair.

He felt his nails fruitlessly catching on the small ridges of the cement floor as he was mercilessly dragged. The hallway enclosed in darkness behind him and the bathroom light ahead of him, serving as a beacon of pain and suffering. 

He was left on the bathroom floor, shaking and crying, accentuated by the sound of the slamming of a steel door. His teary eyes searched for the figures but found none. Instead, his eyes landed on the dull gleam of the worn metal frame in his bathtub, tinged with small droplets of blood, smoothed down edges, and strained leather straps.

If he wasn't sobbing before, he was now. He felt so trapped, his heart beating out of his chest; his lungs made of tin, unable to expand.

His shaking frame was folded on the floor by the bathroom door. A few moments of silence flooded by the drops of his sink tap and his attempts to catch his breath. 

Abruptly, a handful of his hair was grabbed, his body dragged to the chair as he let out seethes of pain and cries. 

He was held down in the chair as he was strapped in by faceless, dark army figures. Soft whispers and murmurs of pleas for mercy and forgiveness settled around him, originating from every vent and faucet in his bathroom, nestled their way to his ears. 

They grew louder and droned out the sound of leather going through buckles and the mechanical "wrrrrr" of the head plates assembling towards the top of the chair. 

He struggled and screamed, but it was no use. 

Trapped in the chair, no chance of escape; Limited by his mind and not his body. 

He anxiously waited and dreaded for the excruciating pain of electricity to course through his body, to hear the words Hydra spent so much time and care to drill into his mind.

But both never came.

He awoke with a startle, eyes wide, body and blanket soaked with sweat, lungs gasping for breath. 

His window open, letting in his neighbors everyday routine squeeze into his apartment. 

The TV on a low volume, playing auctions for nic-nacs and heirlooms people didn't find use for. All drowned out by his racing thoughts and attempts at breathing.

The blanket pooled around his waist as he shifted to lean against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to focus on his breathing. 

He needed his hair gone. 

Like a wounded animal, he made his way to the bathroom with shaky breaths and uneasy strides. He flipped the bathroom light on, feverishly opening and closing drawers to find what he needed most.

A pair of scissors.

A raspy sigh left his lips as his hands met the plastic frame of the twin bladed tool.

His eyes shifted from his reflection to his hold on the scissors. 

Carefully, he brought his metal hand to his hair, extending one of his many locks of hair.

His eyes drifted from the lock of hair to the metal blades that almost fully encased it. 

Snip.

He watched as the lock frayed till it was severed completely, feeling the freed lock in his hand and watching it fall to the counter.

A sigh of relief left his lips as tears pricked his eyes as he met his reflection in the mirror. 

Snip.

Snip.

Snip. 

His tears were flowing fully down his cheeks as almost the entirety of his left side was covered in frayed, unevenly cut hair. 

He gingerly ran his flesh hand along his head, relishing in the short tufts of hair, and began repeating the same frenzied cutting on the other side of his head, and towards the back

If the tears weren’t flowing before, they were now. 

He placed the scissors onto the hair ridden counter with a clang, keeping his relieved gaze on himself, feeling his chest wrack with sobs, body slowly crumbling against the sink and to the floor.

He had never felt such relief in his life. 

His hands ran over the chopped hair, savoring the uneven patched of hair, his head laying back to rest against the wood cabinet below his sink,  eyes fluttering shut.

Muffled knocks softly rose his mind from the depths of sleep. 

He let his eyes adjust to the bathroom light, feeling his neck ache from how he slept against the drawers of the cabinet. 

Sam. 

He rose up to his feet with a groan, trudging to his front door.

His front door opened with a click.

“Hey, man-woah.”

He rose his eyes to meet Sam’s wide ones, giving him a small smile, “Hi, Sam.”

Sam swallowed.

“Late night hack job, huh?”

He gave Sam a tight-lipped smile, nodding. 

Sam’s lip quirked. 

“I, um, I made something for you if you’d like to try it.”

Sam watched as he rubbed the back of his neck with his flesh hand.

He moved from the door, leaving it open for Sam to come in.

Sam carefully stepped into his apartment, taking in the rumple of blankets on the livingroom floor. 

“It’s chicken tikka masala, my therapist recommended it.”

Sam took the plastic container he held out for him.

“Thanks for this…We should go get you a haircut. You can’t be walking around Brooklyn looking like you had a blender cut your hair.”

His lip quirked, nodding.

After a few minutes, he met him back at the front door in jeans, a t-shirt, and his bomber jacket, and glove.

“Ready to go?”

He wordlessly nodded, closing, and locking the door behind them. 

—

“Alright, what do you think?” 

The hairdresser adjusted his chair so he could see himself fully in the mirror. 

He could feel his eyes glaze over.

His previously poorly chopped locks were no where to be found, replaced by almost buzzed cut hair with a bit of length towards the top. Barely enough for anyone to get a good grip in.

“It’s perfect, thank you Melissa,” he muttered to the woman that gave him a kind smile in return. 

He tried to hand the man at the cashier station some cash, but Sam interjected with his card.

He looked at Sam with slight bewilderment.

“You’ll cover me next time.”

His lip quirked, as Sam nudged his shoulder as they made their way to the exit.

He stopped in front of a window for a store on the way back to his apartment, seeing his reflection in the storefront.

And for once, he didn’t have a deeprooted distaste or fear of what he saw. 

It almost made him cry.

He needed this.

His long hair gone. The last remnant of his time in Siberia, of the shackles that held his mind down under water like an anchor, gone. 

Out of sight. Out of mind.

Sam stopped a few paces ahead of him.

“You wanna stop in?”

Sam’s voice broke him from his trance.

He gave Sam a small smile.

“No, just taking it all in.”

Sam gave him a comforting smile as he caught up with him.

They continued on to his apartment to give Sam some of his chicken tikka masala, running his hand through his hair periodically with a smile on his face.