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buckychristwrites · 11 months

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The Night We Met | b.b.| os

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: Undercover, it's just a normal mission for the Winter Soldier. That is, until he hears a familiar voice from an unfamiliar informant.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: It's angst. There is fluff in there. But it's angst

A/N: This lore comes from the book The Winter Soldier: Cold Front, which is based on the comics, but I based it on the MCU Bucky mostly. :)

Masterlist | Bucky Masterlist | Main Blog

Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; it was a hard line to walk.

The clock struck 11, but the night was filled with life.

Piano music filled the tiny bar. A small area was dedicated to dancing, with girls laughing as they were dipped and swung by their male counterparts. The lighting was dim, even more so towards the red mahogany bar. The bartender was busy clearing the tables, occasionally looking up and smiling at the crowded dance floor. A glass was lifted off the wood, leaving a ring of condensation in its place. The sip was a light one, for the drinker wasn’t intending on finishing it. He had a purpose in the bar that very much had nothing to do with the alcohol, drinks or even the beautiful women.

He lowered the glass back to the bar and scanned the room once more. It had only been a half hour since his arrival, but he felt he was wasting time. Undercover work was not his forte, as he was fond of a, one could say, more direct approach. But orders were orders. And while he was very good at a great deal of things, he had one that he was particularly best at. The single word that constantly ran through his head.

Comply.

“They’re late,” He growled in a low voice. A laugh came through the intercom in his ear.

“You have such high expectations,” The familiar Russian accent replied. He rolled his eyes as he took another swig of his drink.

Experiencing the nightlife of London was not how he imagined his evening would go. In fact, he didn’t prefer the loudness or the crowds. It was ideal for his usual kind of missions, sure. Approach from behind. Stab, or maybe shoot with the silencer on. Disappear. Piece of cake. But for undercover work, he would rather be anywhere else. The noise made it hard to focus. And there were so many people, it was hard to pinpoint the target.

But maybe that was the point.

He leaned back in his chair, his right arm draped over the back of the empty one next to him while he looked at the crowd. The music was loud and upbeat. He watched a girl with red curls squeal as her dancing partner swung her through the air, his face matching her euphoria.

He found himself wondering what that was like; the ability to take a cute girl out for a night on the town. Bring flowers to her door. take her to dinner, dance until the lights turned out, get her home at a reasonable hour. Maybe even stay until an unreasonable hour. There must’ve been a time where he had done that, not that he was able to remember. All he remembered was mission after mission after mission. Even when his break from field work came up, he wouldn’t be allowed out to experience any of it for himself. It would be the usual. Stay in his tiny compartment until he gets sent out again.

Focus, he told himself.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, he found himself grinding his teeth. 11:17 it read. Where could this person be?

“So impatient are we? Do you have plans to get to?” The voice in his ear quipped. He said nothing, instead rolling his head onto his left shoulder so he could send a glare through the window. He couldn’t pinpoint her exact location, but he knew he could see it through the scope of her sniper rifle.

He was undercover as an M16 agent, waiting for an info drop from an actual M16 agent. There was no way to know what the other person who would like, sound like, be dressed as. All he could hope was that the mission wasn’t compromised so he could expect a good breakfast in the morning.

The bell over the door could just be heard over the music when it swung open. He turned back to face the bar, his body now on high alert. One, two, three footsteps could be made out as they made their way across the wooden floor, and then a figure appeared in his peripheral, sitting two seats away from him. Without moving his head, he glanced over at the company, shocked at what he found.

A woman.

Of course, he had dealt with people of all genders when doing this work, but it was few and far between when he met with anyone but another white man. It still surprised him when he dealt with anything else.

He said nothing while she skimmed the menu, humming a song that he could recall from his distant memory, but could not, for the life of him, place the name.

“Just a water, please,” She said to the barkeep before setting the menu back down. He frowned. She wore an oversized hat, so he could not see her face, but the sound of her voice seemed to awaken something deep in the catacombs of his mind. There was something so deeply familiar about that voice. His eyes furrowed together as it chewed up his insides, stalling out his brain. She spoke in perfect Russian, but her accent did not match the language. She is not from here, he thought to himself. How can he know her?

She sat silently, drinking her water and looking around at the bottles of alcohol on the wall. After a moment, she turned in her seat to watch the crowd of dancers. Her water was still in her hands, the condensation running down her fingers and into her palms, though she didn’t seem concerned about it.

“Beautiful evening for a dance, isn’t it?” She asked, seemingly to no one, but he knew it was towards him. He felt his eye twitch.

Where had he heard that voice?

She took another sip of water before letting out a wistful sigh. Bucky watched her out of the corner of his eye. The elbow of her right arm was on the back of the chair, supporting her head which was resting in her palm. In her left was her water which she swirled around slowly. He had a moment of deja vu.

What the hell is wrong with you? He asked himself.

He wondered if this was part of the façade, her lingering. It was expected that she would drop the information and go, but her loitering made him nervous. Suddenly feeling hot, he tugged at the tie around his neck. She drained her water before turning back to the bar and lightly setting the glass down. In a flash, she was up and walking towards the door. When he turned back to the bar, he found a slip of paper next to him, and a few coins left beside it.

Instinct had him turn back towards the door. The bell rang as it swung shut behind her receding back. A force he couldn’t explain pulled him to his feet, his hand quickly grasping the paper before he began to follow her.

At some point between his arrival and his departure, it had begun to heavily rain outside. Every step on the concrete seemed to be greeted with a loud splash. The rain soaked his hair but he wasn’t concerned. What he was concerned with, though, was the napkin in his hand, which he haphazardly shoved into his pocket.

“Where are you going?” The voice in his ear hissed. “You have the drop. Get to our meeting point.”

“In a minute,” He said through clenched teeth as he continued to pursue the contact. Her trench coat and hat were the only things he could see in the dark city. The voice rang through his comm again, but he didn’t hear a word of it, instead pulling the piece from his ear and smashing it between his metal fingers before letting it drop to the sidewalk.

What is wrong with you? His inner voice asked again. You’re taking this big of a risk over what? A hunch?

But it wasn’t just a hunch. That was the only thing he could say for certain. He knew that voice, though he couldn’t explain how. The social circle he had was pathetically small these days.

Was it from a past life? The one before all of… this?

She rounded a corner, and he mirrored her. Did she know he was following her? For the first time in his career, he seemed to forget all things stealth, for he was awfully close to her, and not making any attempt to be quiet. Maybe the downpour was enough to cover the sound of his footsteps.

She crossed the median and ran across the road through the middle. It caught him off guard. Once he crossed himself, he found her disappearing down an alleyway. He found himself wondering if this was her own meeting point with her superiors. The idea made him slow down, but only for a moment.

I just need to see her, he told himself. I just need to know who she is.

With a sharp inhale and a puff of his chest, he made his way down the alley.

Water dripped from the fire escape to his right. A scraping noise came from the dumpster adjacent to him, and he wondered if it were rats. But the woman he was pursuing was nowhere to be seen. He found his hand hovering over the gun in his waistband, which was hidden by his jacket.

It was the click of a gun behind him that made him freeze.

“Okay, friend,” The voice said behind him, the familiarity of it sending a chill up his spine. “Just turn around slowly. And explain why exactly you’re following me.”

Though he’d had a gun trained on him more often than he could count, he couldn’t quite place why exactly this time made him so anxious. He tried to keep his breathing under control as he turned around, and his eyes fell on the informant’s face for the first time.

Roses.

His mind was instantly filled with visions of roses.

His eyebrows instantly furrowed together.

What?

The barrel of the gun faltered, though it was still raised.

“Bucky?” She whispered.

“What are you doing here?”

The sentence was said in her voice, though her mouth did not move, and it took him a moment to realize that it came from inside his head.

With the gun still up, she approached him. His eyes were locked on her own, while she looked him up and down.

“Oh, Bucky,” She said softly. “What did they do to you?” He shook his head.

“I’m not,” He said, though sounding unsure. “I’m not this- this Bucky.” He realized then that he was speaking English, and that you had been as well. He frowned even more. English was not a language he ever recalled learning. She shook her head, a sad smile on her face.

“You are. I’d know you anywhere.”

“I’m here to take you out,” Bucky told you, a bouquet of a dozen roses in his hands and a lopsided grin on his face. “You did promise me a dance, just this morning.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“I don’t recall promising that for tonight,” You told him, though it was no secret that you were trying and failing to bite back a smile. He took a confident step forward.

“You got other plans?”

He squeezed his eyes shut.

“What are you doing to me?” He demanded through gritted teeth as he took two steps backwards. When he opened his eyes again, you were looking at him sadly, gun finally lowered. He realized now that the girl in the flashback was a younger version of the woman in front of him now. You shook your head.

“Nothing, my love. You’re remembering.”

You squealed as the two of you spun across the dance floor, the hall loud and lively. It was like the smile was permanently etched onto Bucky’s face. He quickly dipped you, your leg flying upward with your skirt going with it. In a daring move, he stole a chaste kiss before bringing you back up.

“Bucky!” You shouted with a bright smile. He didn’t answer, instead continuing the dance while laughing. Not a second did he take his eyes off of you. And he found that, for the most part, you didn’t stop looking at him, either.

His hands flew to his temples, palms squeezing his head. This wasn’t him. This was never him. None of it was real. How could it be real? He had never left Russia in his life.

You held a glass of water in your hand, slowly swirling it around the glass as you stared into Bucky’s eyes. The dance hall was still loud, but it was just you and him in the corner, you leaning into the wall while his palm was pressed against it just next to your head, holding him up.

“What do you say, doll?” He asked, loud enough for you to hear but quiet enough so no one else could. “Another dance? Or are you ready to go?” You shook your head before downing the water in one swig.

“I could do this all night, Barnes.”

“Make it stop.” A hand pressed against his back. You were knelt down next to him. When did he drop to his knees?

“It’s okay.” Your voice was like honey in his ear, the only thing keeping him from going completely off the rails. “You’re just coming back to me.”

“Bucky… I have to… go…” You were laughing as you spoke between kisses, for Bucky couldn’t for the life of him, stop kissing you. To him, this was a dream come true. He had seen you around, the two of you both living on Camp Lehigh and you working at the local movie theater. He’d fallen for you months ago, yet was never able to muster up the courage to talk to you.

That is, until today.

And now, here he was, making out with you in the front seat of his car, after a long night of dancing and laughter. Your face was cradled between his hands as he pressed his lips to your own.

“Just a few more minutes,” He said into your mouth, making you laugh against his lips.

Your hands were on his cheeks. It was the first tender touch he’d experienced in a long time. As if subconsciously, he covered them with his own. His eyes were wild as he stared into yours.

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes,” You said slowly, firmly. “The people you love call you Bucky.” He shook his head, fighting against your grip, but it never faltered. “Your parents were George and Winifred Barnes. You had a sister named Rebecca. We met on a military base that we lived on with our families when we were 16, and were together until-” You paused, the words catching in your throat. “Until I was informed of your death. After you enlisted.” He shook his head harder now, forcing you to release him.

“I’m not,” He hissed. “I’m NOT!” You didn’t seem bothered by his yelling.

“Will you still love me when I’m an important military man?” His voice was a whisper in the dark as he laid in your bed, you tucked into his side. He had snuck in through your window after your parents were long asleep.

You contemplated this for a long time before finally saying, “Only if you come back home to me.” He brought his chin down to his chest so he could look at you, and even in the dark, he could still see your bright eyes on him.

“I’ll always come back to you.”

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes,” You repeated to him, before reminding him of your own name. That piece of information seemed to make it all click for him. It was as if he always knew it, even though he had never once heard it before. Maybe he was born knowing it. He grabbed your shoulders, gripping you tightly in fear.

He looked in the mirror, adjusting his tie. The recruitment uniform fit him perfectly, and he couldn’t stop looking at himself in it. This was it. He, James Barnes, was officially a member of the US Army, shipping out just the following day. His heart swelled with a bittersweet feeling. Sweet, as this was his dream his entire life. Ever since he and his family moved to Camp Lehigh when his father enlisted, he dreamed of following in his footsteps. The bitterness, however, was all he could taste in his mouth, because…

You appeared behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your chin on his shoulder.

“I’m so proud of you,” You mumbled, but he could still feel the words left unsaid, for he felt them too.

“What is wrong with me?” He whispered. “What is happening?” Your eyes were brimming with tears as you stared at him tenderly.

“I can’t explain it,” You told him. “I think they did something to your memories.”

“Please fix it.” Tears fell down his cheeks. “Fix me.”

“I love you,” He said outside of the train station. It was loud due to the other hundreds of men who were setting off along with him, but to him, it was just him and you.

“I love you too,” You said back. He raised his hands and brushed away the tears that streamed down your face, though more replaced them. It was almost two years of you by his side at this point, and he couldn’t imagine going a single day without you. With his hands lingering on your face, you placed one of your own on his left bicep. “Please come back to me.” Instead of letting his own tears fall, he yanked you forward, kissing you with a deep intensity. He had to make it count, for it had to last him for however long he was gone. When he eventually pulled away, he planted another kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t you remember what I said?” He asked as he brought you back into his sight, attempting to sound playful. “I’ll always come back to you. And I mean it.”

A shot rang out, and when he looked over, you were laying on your back, groaning in agony. Before he had a chance to consider what was happening, he heard a whizz passed his ear, and something hit his neck. Slowly, he brought a hand up and yanked it out. A blow dart. Almost immediately, he began to feel very heavy. He collapsed next to you, rolling onto his side so he could face you.

In the moments before his eyes forced themselves shut, he muttered your name over and over. As if he was trying to make sure he did not forget it again.

“Today’s the day, Steve,” Bucky announced as the two of them walked down the sidewalk. Well, Bucky walked, and Steve basically jogged to keep up with him. “I’m going to get her name and ask her out.”

“What makes today different from any other day?” Steve asked. The movie theater was in sight now, making Bucky walk even faster. “You wimped out any other time. It’s been months since we’ve gone to the movies.” Bucky shook his head at his friend’s cynicism.

“Well, be ready to see many a-movie, Steve,” He told him. “In fact, maybe even for free.” Steve rolled his eyes behind Bucky’s back.

“What if she says no?” Steve asked. Bucky, however, didn’t answer, because he didn’t even consider that possibility. After all, he was one of the most sought out sixteen year olds in the town, and it wasn’t hard for him to get any of the other girls he had wanted over the years (which, rest assured, he did not let it get to his head). So why would this one be any different?

In the distance, the ticket booth became clearer and clearer, and inside, he could see those eyes looking at the line of people and moving them along. His heart fluttered as he joined the line, Steve behind him.

“So what, am I just emotional support then?” Steve mumbled to him. Bucky shot him a glare.

“Stuff a sock in it, Rogers.”

The line was moving faster than anticipated, which was increasing Bucky’s nerves. Was this a good idea? Asking a girl out while she was working? Now that he had the time to consider it, he was starting to feel quite pompous. His time to reconsider was cut short when the man in front of him made his way into the theater, and he was left face to face with you. He took a nervous step forward, and when you smiled brightly at him, he pretended like he wasn’t melting in his chest.

“How can I help you?” Your voice was what he imagined a sunset to sound like, and it made him imagine all the ways he could make you laugh, just so he could hear it. He leaned against the counter, using every ounce of energy he had to feign confidence.

“Two tickets to Citizen Kane, and one date with one pretty lady.”

You froze, your eyes jumping back to him. It was obvious your demeanor shifted, and he couldn’t quite place what your face was conveying. He felt the perspiration start to build on his forehead, and he told himself that it was from the summer heat and definitely not from anxiety.

“Does that line work often for you?” At this, he laughed slightly. Your tone was playful, which calmed him.

“You tell me,” He said in earnest. “I’ve never used it before.”

He realized then, when you looked away with a bashful smile on your face, that you were flattered.

“So what do you say?” He asked, his eyes deep in your own. “You wanna go dancing sometime?” You shrugged, trying to play coy.

“I guess one dance couldn’t hurt,” You said playfully. “Especially if a promise of one will get you to let me go back to work.” You nodded behind him, and when he turned, he was greeted by a line of people glaring at him. He turned back and nodded quickly.

“Right, I’ll hold you to that!” He shouted, grabbing Steve’s arm and yanking him out of line before running down the sidewalk.

“Wait!” You called, making him turn. “What’s your name?” He laughed, looking at the sky above before glancing back at you.

“It’s James,” He said. “But everyone calls me Bucky.”

“Well, Bucky, can you piss off!” A lady in line shouted, clearly not impressed with the love story that was unfolding right before her eyes. Bucky ignored her as he continued to look at you.

“What’s yours?” He asked, and when you gave it to him, it was like the skies had opened up and descended upon him. He repeated it back to you before turning and fleeing down the sidewalk.

“What, we’re not even going to see the movie?” Steve shouted angrily at him.

“Nope,” Bucky replied. “I have too much to do! A date to get ready for!” And before Steve could say anything else, he picked up speed and left him behind.

As he made his way to the floral shop near his house, he muttered your name over and over under his breath, as if trying to permanently etch it into his brain.

This time was different, he told himself. He could feel it.

He woke, immediately sitting up and looking around. He was in his compartment, where he stayed when he was off field duty. His books were aligned on the shelf as normal. The fridge in the corner was humming like it always did. Something was off, however, and he couldn’t quite place what.

Your name was still fresh on his lips, the dream he had vivid in his mind, though he knew it wasn’t a dream at all. It was a memory.

Standing hesitantly, he slowly made his way to the door. Before he could put his hand on the knob, he heard a throat being cleared from the other side. He froze.

Guards were at the door.

He felt his entire body run cold as he grabbed for the knob, but it was locked. When he went to grab the knob with his left arm, knowing he could overpower it, nothing happened.

His left arm didn’t move at all.

Fear overcame him, a feeling he was not familiar with.

Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. Your name is-

The door opened and there was Karpov, followed by Rostova, the voice in his ear from the night before. She refused to make eye contact with him, staring at the floor as she leaned against the wall. A nurse walked up to him without a word, ushering him to sit down on the bed while she took his vitals, but he never took his eyes off Karpov.

“What did you do to me?”

Karpov began to pace, lifting his shoulders up in a casual shrug.

“I needed a weapon,” He said simply, his Russian accent thick. “You survived falling off a mountain. A man with that strength was someone I can use.”

Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.

“I was someone before all this,” He muttered, his voice just a hair above a whisper. “You took everything from me.”

“I gave you a second chance,” Karpov barked in sudden anger. “Do you think you would’ve made it without me? No, you would’ve died in that snow.”

The nurse ripped the blood pressure cuff off him, then trying to place an IV into him, but he ripped his arm away from her.

Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.

“Dying in the snow would’ve been better than this.” Karpov laughed, shaking his head before turning his gaze into his eyes.

“Then you should’ve fucking died before I got to you.”

Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.

He fought the nurse again as she tried to hold down his arm, and within a moment, his arm was being held down by two guards whom he didn’t even know had entered the room. Fighting with all of his strength, it was no use. The nurse inserted the IV into his arm, and it was then that he noticed the scars all over his arm. IV insertion scars that he had no memory of receiving.

He thought of you, of the dream, of your lips pressed against his. Alarm bells rang in his head.

“Where is she?”

“Ahhhh,” Karpov said, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Your little friend is safe. For now.” As if like clockwork, a scream echoed down the hallway, the sound entering the room. This was the push he needed to break free from the guards' hold. Lunging across the room, he grabbed Karpov and slammed him into the wall, leaving a dent in the drywall.

“You take me to her,” He growled. “NOW!”

A needle plunged into his neck, him yelling out as he released Karpov and stumbled backwards. The effects of the drug started almost immediately. The nurse, with the help from the guards, slowly lowered him to the ground as he hyperventilated.

Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.

“No,” He begged, trying to fight them off with haphazard swipes of his hand. “Please.”

“It must be this way, Soldat,” Karpov said, a twinge of pain in his voice.

Your father’s name is George. Your mother’s name is Winifred. You have a sister named Rebecca.

The nurse hung a bag of medication, the white liquid rushing down into his veins. He began to feel tired, more so than before.

He thought of you again, trying to memorize your features, and tried not to wonder if they were going to kill you. You were strong, that he knew for sure, and he had to believe that you were going to make it out of this alive. There was no other option.

“All will be back to normal in a few minutes,” Karpov said, in a voice that was supposed to reassure him. “Just let yourself go to sleep.” The nurse pushed another syringe into the tubing, another drug added to the mix.

Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.

He fought against the drug, fighting to keep his eyes open for what felt like the second time in one day. His right arm was limp at his side now, just as useless as the left one. Tears fell from the corner of his eyes and into his long hair. His eyes fell forward, looking up at the white ceiling. Little black dots danced their way across his vision.

Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. Your name is James Buchanan. Your name is…

As he succumbed to the medication, his eyes forcing their way closed, he forced his mind to focus on your face until the last possible second, when it evaporated from his memory, his name and your own vanishing along with it, and he went into a dreamless sleep

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction

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anonymityisfunwriter · 2 years

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Two Sides of The Same Coin - Chapter 17: "The Joker and The Queen"

"I've been played before, if you hadn't guessed, so I kept my cards close to my foolproof vest. But you called my bluff, and saw through all my tells..."

Pairing: Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes

Bucky POV

Over the next few months, you’d met and won over most of the team. And Bucky's insides practically boil with envy. Right now, he’s standing on the sidelines, both physically and mentally, watching the way you and Steve interact.

You’d immediately forgiven Steve and Tony, because of course you did. You even made both him and Sam swear they wouldn't hold any contempt on your behalf - you made it perfectly clear that no grudges were to be held. You all reconciled the events of that day and were all eager to put them behind you. Right now, he watches as you wrap your arms around Steve’s waist, Steve huffs a laugh, playfully rolling his eyes and returning the embrace.

But it’s not just Steve, it’s everyone. Bruce, Tony, random SHIELD agents, Thor, Loki, he’s jealous of everyone. Your attention was now divided between all these people and he struggles with the idea of competing for your attention, vying for an ounce of the happiness you brought into the room. That’s not him- he's not this person who desperately needs all this attention. Not that he’d even stand a chance.

Steve’s the better super soldier, that much is clear to Bucky. Steve doesn’t have nearly as much blood on his hands. All the glory with none of the shame.

Bruce is smarter. He’s become somewhat of a mentor to you. You spend a lot of time with him and Tony in the lab these days. You'd spend hours with Bruce, he'd ask you questions about your abilities, and you eagerly replied, explaining in as much detail as you were able to. You'd made Bruce blush more times than you'd ever realize.

Even though Tony’s happily married and settled down, he envies your witty banter with him. And then there’s how great you are with Morgan.

"Hi," Morgan greeted you, Bucky watching from the other side of the room.

"Hi," you kindly smiled at her, though Bucky could tell you weren't quite sure what to say to her.

"Do you live here too?"

You nodded gleefully. From there it only took a few words and some animated gestures before the kid absolutely loved you.

"Morgan!" Pepper called, the two of you sitting at the table weaving flowers you'd bloomed in the palm of your hand as Morgan watched you in awe. "I told you about running off. I'm sorry about her, I hope she wasn't bothering you."

"No," you assure Pepper. "It's fine, I've never felt cooler."

Pepper chuckles. "It's nice to meet you. I've heard all about you."

Pepper loved you just at much as Morgan did.

Clint, the person who vehemently hated you before even meeting you, was now equally playful with you. Bucky didn't get to see that first introduction, though more than anything he wished he had because it didn't make sense, even after you'd explained it to him twice.

It didn't make sense with how Clint went from being adamant about hating you, about staying away from you to playfully training with you in one short afternoon. He did however witness Sam finding you in the training room:

Sam’s eyes widen as a projectile flies at your head. He'd walked into the training room, without any precursor to what you were doing in here to see Clint eagerly through something at you.

You hear Sam's footsteps from rapidly approaching from behind you. And he looked ready to kill when he saw you deflect the projectile, only faltering when you and Clint simultaneously cheer as it flew past you- courtesy of your abilities, of course. His fist clenched he started storming toward Clint, until you stepped in front of him and explained the situation. And Bucky's jaw literally dropped.

“How many training mishaps need to happen before we stop doing stupid things like this?” Sam demands, plucking the knife from the mat behind you before you can grab it.

“Come on, Sam! We were being careful!” you cajole, trying to get Sam to continue your little game with Clint.

“Throwing knives at each other is being careful?” he asks, completely bewildered.

“That’s why we used the blunt knives,” you explain. "It's not even that sharp!"

Sam shakes his head at you then turns to Clint, ready to actually throw that knife at him. “Clint, what the hell happened? You hated her last week! You wanted nothing to do with her.”

Clint's face furrows as he tries to pinpoint the moment you won him over, he fumbles for the moment he went from pure hatred to having so much fun in your company. “I don’t know. Weird," he shrugs, at a loss of how to describe finding you walking the hall. You eagerly struck up a conversation with him despite Clint's best efforts. He tried to shut it down, to be rude, but apparently somewhere along the way, you'd became friends.

“What?" you call, turning back to Clint. "You hated me last week?”

“Sorry,” he shrugs again. "To be fair, I didn’t know you.”

“But I won you over, right?” you nod looking incredibly pleased with yourself.

You even intrigued both Asgardians. Even though you'd only been there just a few weeks, you'd had longer conversations with the two of them than Bucky had ever had with them.

"This is our newest member of the team," Sam said, introducing you to both Thor and Loki.

"This little one?" Thor asks, very literally looking down at you.

"Um...I've walked around New York, I'm pretty average height. You're all just really tall," you point out.

"I don't see it," Thor bluntly comments.

"We're not doing another demonstration," Sam interjects. "We've had enough of those."

"Then how about this?" you ask, holding up a small flame. "Or this?" you ask, the flame dying out as quickly as it started, quickly being replaced with a flower blooming in your hand.

"Hmm," Loki hums, the first time he'd spoken up as his eyes continued raking over you. He smirks, taking another step toward you. “An interesting little pet you’ll make.”

Your face drops into an awkward expression as you turn to ask Sam, who abruptly and protectively sticks out his arm in front of you. “A person can't be a pet, right?”

“No, Loki’s just…Loki.”

You nod, sighing in relief.

“I have a friend that I think you’d love, Tree,” Thor adds, ignoring his brother's strange behavior.

“You have a friend named Tree?” you question. “Sam, that’s weird right?”

“Yes, that’s weird," he sighs, already exhausted by the encounter with the Asgardians.

“Okay," you nod. "Good, I thought it was weird, but I wasn’t sure.”

How’s he supposed to compete with literal gods?

Even Peter, who was just glad to not be the newbie anymore, matched your optimism and wonderment in a way that Bucky simply couldn't.

"Yes!" Peter exclaims upon meeting you for the first time. "I'm not the rookie anymore. Oh man- this is so exc-"

Sam cuts him off immediately, "Oh, yes you are. You're still the newbie."

"What? How?" Peter complains.

"Talk to me when you're legally an adult," Sam retorts.

"It's alright, Peter," you console. "I'm not even technically a person - just an asset."

"Super dark, Pinkie. Super dark," Tony remarks.

"What? How?" you ask.

"It just is," Tony shrugs.

"Why don't we ask Ms. Natasha?" Peter suggests.

"Sure," Sam chuckles, turning to Nat, who's just walked through the door. "Hey, Nat, who's the newbie?"

Nat sighs deeply as if she's already tired of the encounter, slightly shaking her head. "Are you pretending you forgot Peter again? You almost made him cry last time. Honestly, Sam, it wasn't funny then, it's not funny now."

"Told you," Sam snickers to Peter.

You’d even caught the attention of the only person on the compound grumpier and more unapproachable than Bucky, Brock Rumlow - much to Bucky and Sam’s chagrin.

“Hi!” you chirp, seeing a new face as you search for Sam. “I’m new here.”

“Good for you,” the unfamiliar man grunts.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

“Brock. Brock Rumlow.”

“That’s a nice name,” you cheerfully compliment.

The corner of his mouth twitches up. “And your name?” You happily give him your name. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

You smile at the man, not noticing the way he's leering at you. “Thank you! What do you do around here?”

“This and that,” he nonchalantly responds.

“Me too!”

“There you are!” Sam calls, only seeing you until he walks into the room and sees the man keeping you company. You do catch how Sam's entire demeanor shifts the second he sees Rumlow.

“Rumlow,” Sam curtly greets, Bucky walking in tow.

Bucky doesn’t even verbally acknowledge his presence, just glares at him.

“Wilson. Barnes.”

“Come on, we have to go,” Bucky mutters to you, deliberately ignoring Rumlow.

“Alright,” you nod, turning to Rumlow one last time. “Well, it was nice to meet you!”

“You too,” he smiles, his eyes still glaring at Sam and Bucky.

But with Steve especially because he’s got everything that Bucky has to offer, plus that wholesomeness and glory that Bucky’s never quite had. It burns at him because he can see it already. You two would be a great couple- a perfect couple: You two walking hand in hand, Steve pressing chaste kisses to your cheek and temple in public. Making you laugh like Bucky used to make you laugh.

“She’s not interested in him,” Sam says, watching Bucky’s jealousy flare as he stares you and Steve down.

“Huh?”

“I know how it looks, but it’s not like that.”

“It’s not any of my business if it is like that.”

“But it’s not,” Sam reminds him. “So you can stop your pining and start being her friend again.”

“I didn’t stop being her friend.” Though he knew exactly what Sam was talking about.

Just a few days ago, he'd had that awkward conversation with you. He cringed knowing that you knew about the Compound's collective and sudden interest in your friendship. Or in the fact that they all thought you and Bucky were more than friends - something you were clear you weren't.

“Really? Because she just told me a few days ago that she hadn’t seen you in days.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Bullshit.”

“She’s doing really well here- found her footing, everyone really likes her,” Bucky comments, ignoring Sam’s attempt to pull anything out of him. “But I guess that’s her.”

“What’d you mean?” Sam urges, though by the way Bucky's watching you, he knows exactly what Bucky's talking.

“I don’t know, maybe you were right, and it’s a part of her thing. But it’s like a gravitational pull, maybe some kind of magnetic field,” Bucky marvels. “You can’t help it: getting sucked in, wanting to be near her, wanting her attention. The way everyone in a room orients themselves around her.”

“That’s possibly the corniest thing you’ve ever said.”

“And that’s the last time I willingly talk to you.”

But Sam's right. And he wasn’t exactly sure when it happened. All he knew was that this massive crush completely blindsided him.

At least that was what he was telling himself, the more he thought about it maybe there had always been something there. And when he was really being honest with himself, he was certain there had always been something there - a lot more than just something.

He shuts that thought down immediately. He wasn’t the man he was in the 40’s, not by a long-shot, but he desperately wished he was. He wanted that charm, to flash you one smile and have you, but he wasn’t that guy anymore. And it wasn’t that easy.

He never denied that he found you attractive upon meeting you, but now there was a friendship, a kinship between you two that he never in a million years could have anticipated.

It genuinely scared him that he might lose that. You were a seemingly endless puzzle, an unsolvable enigma. And he desperately wanted to know more. The bits and pieces were no longer satisfying, he wanted to sit you down and lay out your entire life story for him. To figure out how you clung onto your wonderment and warmth, how you could be good to a world that hadn’t done a single thing for you.

And he wanted to know why you had such a profound impact on him, he’d settle for even knowing if you knew how you affected him.

Like how when you touched him in passing, did you know that it felt like his skin had been set on fire after being cold for so long?

Did you know how much he looked forward to seeing you each day?

Did you know that he was now going completely out of his way to seek you out? Driving himself crazy as he thought about you day in and out.

Did you know that everything had changed?

Next Chapter

"Two Sides Of The Same Coin" Chapter List AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

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lilyevanstan1325 · 4 months

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Leave a comment if you'd like to join my taglist❤️

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X OC

A/N: I don't own any of the main characters mentioned in this story, except for Amaya Snow and her family members.

All other characters belong to Marvel Inc.

The stories do not follow the timeline of the Marvel films. Some characters, places or events do not correspond to the films, I am only granted some "licenses".Be patient.

Warnings: This story contains mature content, including :

Graphic scene, strong language, kinks, death, violence, sex.

Summary: James "Bucky" Barnes got a second chance in life.

Now he is one of the good, one of the righteous.

He is an Avengers.

He has the perfect girlfriend, the perfect best friend and a team that is now like a family.

But inside him there is anger.

He feels stuck in a life that he doesn't feel belongs to him but he doesn't want to disappoint anyone.

Especially Steve.

Amaya Snow, daughter of two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents killed on a mission, she has been working alongside Fury for nearly 10 years now.

Lethal and precise as few is the emblem of the perfect agent.

Without friends and without love she lives only for her work.

One day Fury, her mentor, offers her the chance of her life.

James and Amaya don't know each other.

They meet by chance one evening.

A few glances are enough to indulge in a wild, almost animalistic, fuck in a small pub bathroom.

What would happen if fate put them back on the same path?

🔥 Moodboard 🔥

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes #fanfiction recommendation #fanfiction #marvel #sebastianstan #dangerousgame

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sublimecatgalaxy · 1 year

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♥️ To Do List ♥️ 2/17/23

Hi everyone! I wanted to give you guys another, updated idea on what I have planned to post over the next week or so.

Just a reminder that my requests are opened and I have updated my character list and masterlist so give it a peek :)

Let me know in the comments which ones you guys are most excited for!!

Somethings have shifted and changed since the last time I updated a To Do list so stay tuned!

-Liz :)

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Requests (next few days):

Fezco x Reader by @honee-chai-tea: 'Can I get a reader who insists she doesn’t need a lot for valentines x Imma spoil the shit outta you just you wait Fezco?!'

Anon Rafe Cameron Smut Request: 'enemies/rivals/sister's bestfriend with benefits x rafe cameron smut'

Joel Miller Smut by @creelmalfoylaufeyson69: 'I just want a Joel x reader smut post apocalyptic please 😊'

Rafe Cameron Fluff by @dearreader03: 'Hi! Can I request prompt 22 and trope 4 for soft!rafexreader?'

Rafe Cameron Birthday Smut Fic by @whatsthepointofanything: 'I was wondering if you would do a Rafe x birthday reader for me.'

Javier Pena Smut Request by @hazehepburn: 'javier pena x reader - hear me out. A enemies to lovers trope.'

Scheduled (within the next few weeks):

February 23rd, 2023: Anon Smut Request: JJ Maybank x Reader; Summary: "JJ Maybank smut with best friends to lovers? Maybe they get super high and they get into mischief?"

First Part January 23rd: 'Cruel Summer': JJ Maybank x Reader Summary: JJ Maybank makes it his personal job to see that Topper's older cousin is given the full tour of all that the Outer-banks has to offer, including his way of life.

First Part January 23rd: 'Read It and Weep': NFL!Rafe Cameron x Journalist!Reader: After the journalist reader gets tackled on the sidelines by wide receiver Rafe Cameron, they quickly become enthralled in one another and can't seem to let each other go.

February 25th, 2023: JJ Maybank Unrequited Love Oneshot: Every time the reader and JJ have had feelings for one another, it's never been reciprocated. Until it is.

February 26th, 2023: Joel Miller Oneshot: Joel has his borther over and he brings a friends, a friend who Joel has some history with. After Tommy leaves, the reader decides to stay behind and 'catch up'.

March 1st, 2023: 'The Chain' Oneshot: Summary; The Mandalorian is tasked to take on a high risk, high priced bounty, an escort, who he later realizes isn't wanted for the right reasons and takes it on himself to see that she's handled properly.

March 9nd, 2023: Spencer Reid x agent!reader; Summary: "After Reid gets out of prison and they're interrogating Cat, it comes out that she's pregnant with Reid's child. Following a big blow up, the reader has some words with Spencer but also with Cat."

March 16th, 2023: Aaron Hotcher x teacher!reader; Summary: "The reader meets Aaron at Jack's parents teacher conferences and he's heard all about Jack's 'cute teacher' through Penelope who's done snooping and also through Jack who's completely infatuated with her. When he gives her his personal number to reach out to him regarding Jack when he's off on a case, does she take it as an invitation to reach out to him or does she not?"

Eventual (TBD):

'Lights, Cameras, Action' Oneshot: Rafe Cameron x Camgirl!Reader Summary; Rafe falls in love with his most recent camgirl that he's been going to when he craves human (electronic) interaction and affection. Simple as that.

'Him + I' Multipart Series: Bodyguard!Daryl x Mafia!Reader Summary: Daryl is entrusted with protecting his bosses daughter which, in all of his years of working, is proving to be one of the most difficult jobs he's been given. Not because the job is difficult but because she is difficult.

'Breathe Me' Multipart Series: Bucky Barnes x Therapist!Reader Summary: Bucky's difficult part and sharp attitude makes their sessions difficult but his therapist gets right through to him with some 'unconventional' methods.

'Daddy Dearest' Oneshot: Negan Smith x Reader AU Summary: Strictly for the pleasure of @ncllywrites, this lengthy oneshot is about the situationship between Negan Smith, a CEO in New York City, and one of his many assistants. Of course he goes after the one girl who doesn't fall at his feet, making it his personal effort to win her over by any means necessary.

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-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

@officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @witxhy-lexx @minjix @luvroseee @tee-swizzle @savageneversaw @admiringlove @hysteriahall @piceous21 @starlightandfairies @igotmajordaddyissues @drewstarkey-wife1 @manyfandomsfanvergent @revesephemeres @bungunz @rafesbae01

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merrycarousel · 1 year

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Weekly Roundup 9 April - 16 April

As a means of catharsis from the mess that was the Love Is Blind season four “live” reunion yesterday, I wrote a weekly roundup of all the fics I’ve read and would recommend this week.

I'm currently a month into an exploration of the Marvel fandom—so that should explain some things.

For most of last week and this one, I was primarily consumed by reading three fics: dnky’s A Father’s Son and ali_aliska’s Winter’s End, along with the separate “what-if” fic for that story.

Winter's End by ali_aliska (Ao3)

Incomplete, on hiatus; last updated November 2018

Mature, 461K words (73/?), James “Bucky” Barnes x Tony Stark (WinterIron)

This slow burn fic centers on Tony and Bucky slowly healing and the development of their relationship. Bucky comes back to the United States alone, without the rest of the Rogue Avengers, so for most of the fic we get almost undivided attention put on the two. One of my favorite moments early on happens when Tony is trying to get an understanding of how to remove the trigger words, discovering Bucky’s Winter Soldier personality in the process and then getting overwhelmed by his intense infatuation with him. It was shocking, unexpected, and oddly funny to me. As the author recommended, I only read through chapter 63 so that I wouldn’t be left on a cliffhanger, and it was satisfyingly end-like that I didn’t feel like I was missing too much by deciding not to continue reading. Overall, this fic delivers on your slow burn angst-fluff fic needs. Similarly, while the narrative often switches between Tony and Bucky’s perspectives, there is a nice bit of head hopping as well—which is one of my personal weaknesses.

Far from Heaven by ali_aliska (A03)

Complete

Mature, 67K words (17/17), James “Bucky” Barnes x Tony Stark (WinterIron)

Love, loss, and late-night shenanigans, this story asks the question of what if everything in Winter’s End was a cryosleep dream for Bucky. As you would imagine, Bucky is absolutely devastated, grieving the death of the Tony he knew as he tries to navigate the dream past-turned-present. Compared to the length of Winter’s End, I devoured this fic almost preternaturally quickly and wasn’t disappointed one single bit by ali_aliska and her perfection in blending angst and sickening sweet love that you just can't look away from. Despite the depressing premise, this fic actually gets pretty fun in certain places that I don’t want to give away so give it a whirl.

A Father's Son by dnky

Incomplete; last updated May 2021

General, 156K (42/?), Virginia “Pepper” Potts x Tony Stark

After all of the emotions from ali_aliska’s works I needed some relief, so I went to one of my favorite tropes: time travel, stumbling upon this beauty. This story is about Jarvis waking up during Infinity War and piggybacking on the Mind Stone and its connection to the other Infinity Stones to send himself and Tony back to his birthday in Iron Man 2. I had a lot of fun reading this, particularly in the execution of Tony’s journey to detangle himself from Shield forever—subverting their authority at every turn, being an absolute pain, and actually suing them at one point. This fic also has no tolerance for Captain America or Black Widow while also including other aspects of the Marvel universe, such as Inhumans from Agents of SHIELD and the X-Men, as portrayed in X-Men: First Class. As previously mentioned, I’m a sucker for head hoping and unreliable narrators and this story likes to switch perspectives frequently, which is especially satisfying when we get to see the perspectives of average joes and the wider public, such as in the aftermath of this fic’s New York. Jarvis also gets to really shine in this fic and his relationship with Tony is the cornerstone of the whole story. Be warned however, this fic ends on a cliffhanger. You can infer what happens next, so it isn’t an unsatisfying cliffhanger but if those bother you, chapter 35 is a good stopping point.

Rise From the Ashes by WitheringEffect (Ao3)

Incomplete series; last updated March 2021

General, 16K, 5 works, James “Bucky” Barnes x Tony Stark (WinterIron)

Tony is a phoenix! Enough said. The implications and realities of this in his life, particularly in Siberia and his childhood, are as horrifying as it sounds. Every work in the series follows a different character’s point of view, exploring how the Avengers and Avenger-adjacent characters react and move forward from the Civil War. Overall, it’s an amazing read.

In Case of Emergency by aliaoftwoworlds (Ao3)

Complete; one-shot

General, 4K

This fic is about Peter becoming sick at school and, due to May being busy, the office is forced to call his second emergency contact, Tony Stark. Short and sweet, it goes about how you would expect and will certainly put a smile on your face by the end. It also reminded of one of my favorite fics (the boy and the mechanic by Bundibird) in which a similar, but more serious take on the premise is used.

#Marvel fic rec #Marvel fanfic recs

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ao3feed-stevebucky · 11 months

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The Wolf And The Lamb ~ Maria Hill x y/n (fem reader)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/lFt7dyN

by ciupi19

*read this in a dramatic British voice* The opportunity of a lifetime: an internship at S.H.I.E.L.D. Will y/n manage to keep up with the many heroes of this organization? And will she succeed in taking down the enemies that come with being part of the fight for good in the world?

Most important of all... Will she thrive or crumble under the supervising gaze of the intimidating Agent Hill?

Find out in this chaotic fanfic written by a horny me who's totally not into middle-aged women!

April 2023 ~ June 2023

Words: 9368, Chapters: 17/18, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M

Characters: Reader, Maria Hill, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Wanda Maximoff, Nick Fury, Tony Stark, Amani - Character, William, Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers

Relationships: Maria Hill/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov & Reader, Tony Stark & Reader, Nick Fury & Maria Hill, Nick Fury & Reader

Additional Tags: Shower Sex, Fingerfucking, Tickle Fights, Sparring, Double Agents, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. References, Lesbian Maria Hill, Maria Hill Needs a Hug, Dancing in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Truth or Dare, Forced Proximity, Closet Sex, Undercover Missions

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/lFt7dyN

#ao3feed #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stevebucky #stucky #steve/bucky #stevexbucky #fanfic

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galaxy-barnes · 4 years

Text

Nothing But Trouble | Preview

Hey guys! So as little somethin’, here’s a small snippet of the Bucky Barnes x OC fic I’m currently working on, as promised:

Bucky shifted in his chair uncomfortably, irritated that their training session with Steve was interrupted. Right when he was about to get the upper hand over the punk, too. Yet what proved to be another boring briefing for a new assignment has started to pique his interest. A young girl stood next to Fury, looking around the room with an excited expression. The S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on her shirt and the shoulder of her ugly green jacket was hard to miss. She must be a new recruit, Bucky thought. Only rookies get excited about meetings like these. After everyone settled, Fury let his eyes roam across the room, pausing for the briefest of moments at Barton. “I can clearly see you’re all excited to be here, so let’s make this quick. I’d like all of you to give a warm welcome to Agent 17 here.” She straightened her back, a bright smile of acknowledgment on her face. “She came here on behalf of the recently established Headquarters in Berlin, and you’ll be working together on your next mission.” From Berlin? Oh, they definitely got Bucky’s attention now. When Fury asked her to let them in on the details, she positively beamed with pride. Bucky let out a snort. What a rookie.

And that’s all you get for now! Hopefully, you’ll find it interesting enough to stick around for the Prologue coming next Friday, yes? Stay tuned! xoxo - Vidra (poking @chase-your-dreams-away @justreadingfics @nacho-bucky & @bucky-the-thigh-slayer )

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky x oc #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #fanfic #preview #nothing but trouble #bucky barnes x agent 17 #agent 17 #vidra's writing

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

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Burn The Witch Masterlist [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

There’s a thin line between mission and love, and spies aren’t allowed to cross that line. [Complete]

Summary: The mission was simple; get closer to the Winter Soldier and start a relationship with him to get the necessary information for your superiors to use.

Everyone told you not to get your feelings involved.

You should have listened.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, manipulation,enemies to lovers, fake relationship, death, violence, blood, mentions of sex, explicit language.

Chapter 1: Trouble has a way of following certain people.

Chapter 2: First impressions can be wrong.

Chapter 3 : Things aren’t always what they seem to be.

Chapter 4: A lot can happen in a coffee shop.

Chapter 5: Lying is supposed to be easy for spies.

Chapter 6 : First dates can end in strange ways.

Chapter 7: Missions require stealth.

Chapter 8: Every agent makes mistakes.

Chapter 9: Late night visits can be unpleasant.

Chapter 10: Some nights are more hectic than others.

Chapter 11: Spending time with ex boyfriends can be difficult.

Chapter 12: Sometimes plans have to change.

Chapter 13: Fights can be inevitable.

Chapter 14: It’s always difficult to keep secrets.

Chapter 15: Dishonesty requires practice.

Chapter 16: It’s dangerous to have no plans.

Chapter 17: Everyone needs help sometimes.

Chapter 18: Midnight texts can make things complicated.

Chapter 19: Sometimes spies break the rules.

Chapter 20: Everyone has a past.

Chapter 21: Lies don’t last forever.

Chapter 22: Trust shouldn’t be lost.

Chapter 23: Coming home can cause issues.

Chapter 24: Break ups are never easy.

Chapter 25: Even the best spy can look for forgiveness.

Chapter 26: Love turns into hate fast.

Chapter 27: Trust must be earned.

Chapter 28 : Even spies can change.

Chapter 29: Leaving can be difficult.

Alternate Epilogue

Disclaimer: Marvel owns Avengers, The Falcon and The Winter Soldier and all its characters.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #marvel #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #the winter soldier

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tiedyemillenialbullshit · 2 years

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Aftercare

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader, Natasha x bestfriend!Reader (briefly)

Summary: Bucky provides aftercare after a triggering mission for you.

Word Count: 3.8k

Suggested Song: Space Song Beach House

Warnings: Smut, anxiety, panic attacks, PTSD, trauma, stress inducing situations, blood, mentions of human trafficking, violence, fluff, longing, swearing

A/N: This is my first smutty piece, so be nice :)

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

Bucky knew when he heard the guttural scream coming from outside the safe house he hadn’t made it back in time. He knew you being alone here wasn’t a good idea, but that’s just how the plan played out. “Y/N! Y/N, it’s me let me in hun.” Nothing. He gave you five minutes since the last noise he heard, and that was long enough. Natasha wouldn’t be back for another half hour. Ugh, fuck it.

Bucky looked around before backing up and kicking the door in with one swift kick.

Frantically searching around the cabin, he found the clothes from your mission discarded carelessly on the ground in the living room. Typical he thought to himself with a soft chuckle. As he made his way to where he knew you’d be hiding, he took off his shirt once he heard the running water.

“Y/N. It’s me, I’m coming in okay?” Still no response.

Unbuttoning the top of his black pants, Bucky slowly opened the door. There you were. Stripped down to your sports bra and underwear letting the hot water hit your back as you sat on the floor in the shower. You were staring at the wall, but he knew you weren’t seeing it.

The first thing he noticed was the amount of blood and dirt slowly making it’s way down the drain. Your hair was a mess of knots and smeared blood on your forehead. He wasn’t yet sure what was yours and what was the many hydra agents you took down tonight.

Bucky removed his pants and slid in behind you. You had no reaction to his presence and he didn’t want to startle you. He remembered what it was like to be stuck in your own head, completely consumed by your own thoughts and repressed memories. He wondered what you saw right now. He knew it would be a mix of what happened tonight, and what had happened in your past.

He squatted down behind you and gently placed a hand in between your shoulder blades. Finally, you turned your head just enough to let him know you were aware of him behind you. Turning back around, you continued to stare straight ahead.

Reaching for a washcloth and soap, Bucky started to lather up your back, careful of the bruise forming over your right ribs and the knife slice over your left shoulder. This was definitely not the worst shape he had seen you in, but it wasn’t the physical injuries that bothered him.

You seemed to relax a bit, your breaths becoming deeper. Leaning you back against his chest, Bucky held you in his arms and gently starting swaying side-to-side. “I’m on your side” he muttered to you against the shell of your ear.

Your lower lip trembling, you finally said “I know” before the tears fell. The crying intensified a few seconds later. Bucky continued to hold you throughout it. This was always the hardest part of your post-mission aftercare he had learned to provide for you.

A few years ago before you two were close, he learned about your past. About how at age 10, you were taken. Trafficked away from your family, ending up at what would later be later identified as a Hydra dark site. Where they took young children and turned them into weapons. The weak ones perished, while the strong survived. You hadn’t escaped until you were 17, but your life didn’t get any better. Someone you began to trust took you in but quickly realized your potential. It angered him enough that you had had your choices stripped from you as a child, but that then someone took you in and exploited those talents. He knew you always picked these missions as to not let another child walk down the same path you were forced down.

You turned around to face him and said “I’m sorry.” After Bucky helped pull you out of these episodes, you were always embarrassed, forgetting that out of all he people in your life, Bucky would understand the most. He reached up and cupped your cheek with one hand. “I’ve told you a hundred times, stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

You gave him your best attempt at a brief smile before he leaned back into the curved part of your tub and pulled you with him. Resting your ear against his chest, the calming flutter of his heart brought you back to the moment even more, the nightmares from your past fading away with each beat.

Bucky was rubbing your back when you broke the silence. “There were so many this time. Every time we go on these missions, there’s more and more of them and I don’t know how we can ever stop it.”

Bucky’s hand went still. “We can’t save them all Y/N. The best we can do is reach for the ones in front of us and hope for the best. It’s cruel but it’s the truth.”

“I know. It’s just…when I see their faces, god they’re so young. Will I ever stop having these nightmares? Will this ever get better? It’s been 21 years since my abduction into this world and I can’t shake it. How are they supposed to?”

“With persistence.” Natasha’s voice broke the small bubble of comfort you had with Bucky. You hadn’t heard her come in, let alone see her standing in the doorway. She was exchanging looks with Bucky, but you pretended to not notice. Typically, you’d care about someone seeing you tangled up with Bucky in the shower half naked, but she had caught you two so many times you knew she wouldn’t say anything.

Whatever this was with Bucky, you had no idea. You’ve never discussed it with him. The first time you unexpectedly stumbled upon a group of girls on a mission, you had frozen in your tracks. The walls were literally crumbling around you, but you refused to leave until everyone was out. The team had never seen you so insistent and unrelenting in your mission to get these girls to safety. Your usual cocky demeanor was gone. Once you were home, the proper authorities notified and the case closed, Bucky watched you excuse yourself from the debrief and throw up into the closest garbage can. Ever since then, he’s been by your side.

“Alright Y/N, let’s get you cleaned up and in warm clothes.” Natasha was standing closer now. “We’re heading back to the compound tonight, Stark needs me.”

“Okay, let me help her and we’ll be out soon.” You and Bucky then exchanged a look that seemed had a sort of gratitude behind it as Nat turned and left.

“Can I wash your hair for you?” Bucky asked gently with the warm, familiar rumble of his voice. You nodded and turned around. His fingers in your hair felt amazing, massaging your scalp and ridding you of the built up dried blood. You began the mundane task of getting the blood out from under your nails. You usually hated doing this, always picturing the faces of the men who brought so much pain into the world. But tonight, all you did was picture yourself taking that pain out of the world. It made your stomach flurry, a sick smirk to the corner of your mouth. You remembered the last man begging for his life, trying so desperately to avoid the inevitable consequence of his actions. You had him by his hair, on his knees, his fallen comrades fallen around him. All from you and your rage. You pictured his face as he told you, pleaded with you that he’d tell you when the next shipment would be. The soulless bastard couldn’t even refer to them as girls, they were nothing to him. You agreed. He told you. You slit his throat.

“What are giggling about?” Bucky cut in, snapping you out of your train of thought. Were you giggling?

“Nothing, just thinking a happy thought. Thank you for washing my hair.” You turned to face him, suddenly embarrassed for no real reason, you continued, “I should really take the rest of my clothes off and check for any more injuries,” hinting at his exit.

He made no move to leave. He just stared at you for a lingering moment before reaching for your strap. You didn’t stop him. Maintaining eye contact with you, he slid the left bra strap over your cut. You winced a bit, but he immediately leaned down and planted a kiss on your wound. You had never been this intimate with him before, despite the increasing tension every time this happened.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop” he whispered against your skin. He was still watching you as he pulled it down a little further, exposing the top of your breast. You were sure you weren’t breathing. Bucky cut the eye contact to look down over your cut. “It’s not too bad, I don’t think you’ll need stitches or anything. We should get you cleaned up though, hun.” He reached up to pull down the right one when you put your hand over his, stopping him.

“Are you okay?” He asked urgently making your heart flip. Barely above a whisper you said, “don’t stop.” Turning fully around in his arms, you couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes. You hadn’t been with each other this intimately before and the tension was almost too much.

“I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you, but god... I want to kiss you right now” he said tenderly. When you didn’t object, he brought a hand up to your chin, running his thumb over your lower lip as he watched your mouth intensely. He didn’t remove it until it was replaced with his lips on yours. The very second he kissed you, your world shifted sideways. It was so innocent, but quickly grew needier. His hand went to the back of your head, yours coming up to touch his chest. Breaking away, but keeping foreheads touching he muttered, “do you know how loved you are here? The only thing I want you to feel is safe. When you’re with me, us: me, Steve, Nat, Sam, Wanda, Clint, Tony; no one is going to come near you. I’d go through hell to get to you if something ever did happen.”

You were starting to cry again, but for different reasons this time. You smiled against his mouth, the first real smile you had plastered across your face in a very long time. “Show me.”

He took a shuddering breath and stood suddenly, and you were worried you said the wrong thing, until he offered his hand to help you up as well. Taking it, he pulled you up to standing. He brought his hands up to your cheeks and kissed you deeply. You were melting in his arms when he reached down to fully pull your bra up over your head. When he stepped back, you kept your eyes closed.

“Look at me.” The soft order making you pop your eyes open.

“God damn, you’re even more perfect than I thought you’d be.” Stepping into your space and backing you up against the wall, he kissed you again and reached down to the waistband of your underwear.

“Is this okay?” He had barely stopped kissing you to ask. “Only if this is okay” you responded while reaching for his waistband. You could feel him hard underneath your hand. You had played this out in your head so many sleepless nights, but now that it was happening, you realized it was better than anything you could’ve imagined.

He sucked in a quick breath, before moving to kiss your neck. You pulled down his waistband just enough to release him from his briefs. Groaning against your neck, you wrapped your hand around his shaft and began gently stroking him. That’s when you realized, selfishly, that he was also wounded from the fight.

“Oh Jesus, Buck. You’re hurt,” you took your hand away for a second before he stopped you, grabbing your hand in his. “Please don’t stop. Don't worry about me.”

Turning your head, you whispered “if you insist,” with a smirk before continuing with more urgency than the last time. Pulling a groan from him was somehow stitching back together your broken heart. All you cared about in that moment was making him feel good. He had been there for you so many times, pulling you out of it. You thought it was his turn.

The cold contrast against your back to the hot water sent chills up you spine. He brought his left arm up and positioned it next to your head. He was so close, you two were sharing the same breath. Bucky ran a finger along the seam of your underwear and slowly pulled them halfway down your ass.

He didn’t even give you enough time to recover from the small movement before he had his middle finger playing with your center. The back of your head hit the tiles while he exhaled in a breathy chuckle against your neck, “I knew you’d like it like this.” Your euphoria caused you to stop stroking him temporarily.

You weren’t sure who was enjoying this more, but getting each other off with just your hands felt like the hottest thing you’d ever done. His long fingers moved from your sweet spot to tease your opening. After a second of reprieve, he plunged a finger inside you. Watching you intently as he did so, he did nothing to stifle your moan, only encouraged it.

“Holy fuck you’re wet,” he said into your mouth before kissing you. He slowly moved his finger in and out of you, until you couldn’t take the slow pace any longer and started grinding against his hand. Softly moaning against his neck, he glanced down to watch where your bodies connected.

“Keep going Y/N, come on come for me” he encouraged. The heat, the water, his words, being boxed in between him and the wall, everything brought you to the edge. When he added a second finger, you went over.

Your orgasm hit you faster than you had intended. Knowing Natasha was probably still somewhere waiting for you, you did your best to not make too much noise. Bucky however, just watched as your mouth fell open.

Bucky let you ride your high against his hand before removing his fingers, turning around to turn off the water, grab a towel, and scoop you up in one fluid motion. You laughed as he carried you to the door, towel wrapped around you and pulled the door open. There was Natasha sitting on the bed. “About damn time!”

“Get out” was all Bucky ordered before laying you on the bed.

Realizing what was finally happening, she got up and made her way to the door. “See you tomorrow babes!” Nat hollered at you as she waltzed out of the cabin. “I’ll send Sam’s dumb ass to come pick you up with the quinjet."

Bucky followed her out, propped a chair against the partially broken door, and returned to the bedroom. Standing in the doorway, he found you with your towel unwrapped and you laying bare for him. “Fucking hell,” he muttered as he walked in and kicked the door shut behind him.

He was on you in a second. Laying down in between your legs, his mouth hovered just above yours as he said, “look at you all ready to get to the finish line.” You felt his hard length growing against your center. When he started grinding against you slowly, instincts took over, and you began grinding up to meet him. You thought you might get off again just on this.

“Not yet, sweetheart” he mumbled as he nipped at your jawline, moving down to your neck to your collarbone. His hand came up to cup your breast before taking it in his mouth.

“Holy shit, Bucky, please.” You never begged for anything, but right now it was spilling out of your mouth as you ground up against his hips trying to feel any sense of friction.

You felt him smirk against your chest before moving down your stomach. You were self conscious about some gnarly looking scars on your stomach, acquired in your youth. Bucky pulled away from your stomach slightly, dusting his fingers over them before replacing them with his lips. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

Letting your head tip back on the mattress as you felt him going lower, a few tears slipped out. All of your emotions were cranked so high, there was no fighting them. You just let them fall out as they pleased.

“Look at me.” Lifting your head up, you locked eyes his Bucky just as his tongue slipped out and gently licked right where you needed him to. It was so feather light, but sent a shock all the way up your spine.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you.” You kept watching him discover your body with his mouth. Without warning, he dove in. He was no longer holding back. He acted like he was eating your pussy like it was his last meal and you let him.

It was becoming too much. The feeling of your orgasm was quickly approaching. “Keep your eyes on me, Y/N” he said I between licks.

“I’m tryi-“ he slipped two fingers in you and you exploded. Knowing you both were alone, you let him know how good he made you feel. You didn’t recognize the voice that was coming out of you as you rode your orgasm out once again on his hand. He sat back and watched.

You had barely come back down before you felt him shift on the bed, leaning into you. The next time you opened your eyes, you were staring into Bucky’s. “How’ya feelin’ sweetheart?”

You really wanted to smack him just a little bit for the smirk that was plastered on his face, but instead decided to let the laugh loose that you were holding in. You thought you’d feel embarrassed about how loud you just were, but also couldn’t find a reason to care. “I think you know how I’m feelin’ handsome.”

His eyes no longer met yours, but were focused on your smile. Bucky reached down to wrap your legs around his waist as he gently kissed you. The mood shifted again, and you felt the kiss intensifying. Placing your hand against his ribs, you started scratching your way down to his waist line and tugged against them. Bucky let out a tight hiss against your mouth as he reached down to free himself once again.

When he was reaching down with his right hand, you were brought face-to-face with his left shoulder. His scarring had been healed a lot during his time in Wakanda, but a lot still remained nonetheless. You leaned up and gently kissed the red skin near his bionic arm. His breathing caught and he turned to look at you. “You know, you’re beautiful too,” you said quietly only a few inches from his face. Bucky was so still you were afraid you killed the mood. Then he was leaning in to kiss you once again. He gently laughed against your mouth and said “why did we wait so long to do this? I must be more of an idiot than I think I am.” You laughed at his sincerity, and realized this was the first time you ever felt truly comfortable with someone during sex.

“You ready for me, Y/N? Once I start I’m not stopping until you’re screaming like that again.” Flushed, you nodded and reached for the back of his head. Pulling him in for a searing kiss, Bucky reached down to play with your opening once again. “Yeah, you’re ready.”

You thought you might combust from his breathy words, but once you felt him line himself up with your pussy all thoughts left. His hand returned to the other side of the bed, caging you against it. He slowly slid in, pausing to allow you to adjust to him.

“No, don’t wait, give it all to me” you moaned once again in that unrecognizable voice. Without thinking, he sunk all the way into you. Foreheads pressed together, you both groaned at the intensity of it.

Bucky reached down and gripped your hip, pinning you to the bed as he began thrusting into you slowly but quickly picking up his pace. You were trying not to scream, and he was just watching your mouth as it fell open. “My god, I can feel you squeezing me.”

You didn’t think he’d be one for dirty talking, but you were glad he was. His low, gravely voice was adding to the overwhelming sensation as your third orgasm quickly approached. It came almost immediately when he reached down and started slowly circling over your clit with his thumb. The contradicting paces of his hand and his thrusting pulled it from you with a shout.

“Fuck, Y/N, fuckfuckfuck…” he had let go over your hip and returned it to the side of your head while he pounded into you chasing his own release. When his thrusting became uneven and erratic, you turned your head towards his ear and whispered “come for me.” Almost immediately, he slammed into you one final time with a groan as he found his own orgasm.

Not wanting to let go of the moment, you nipped at his ear until he turned to face you and kissed you so deeply you thought you might start crying again. Neither of you said anything after you pulled away. The moment felt too sacred to say anything. Instead, he slid out of you and got up to return with a warm towel. He reached down to clean you up as you laid still panting. Watching him, it wasn’t lost on you how slightly insane it was that the Winter Soldier was being so tender with you.

He looked up and caught you smiling. One side of his mouth tipped up in a smirk as he lowered himself next to you on the bed. He gathered you up in his arms, resting your head on his chest. He kissed the top of your head and said, “we are doing that again, but right now all I want is to fall asleep with you.”

You reached around him, draping your arm low on his waist. You turned your head and gave his chest a quick kiss before snuggling in. Sleep found you almost immediately, and when you awoke in the same position some hours later, you were relieved to find the nightmares hadn’t reached you in your sleep.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky oneshot #bucky barnes x y/n #avengers fanfiction

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murdock-and-the-sea · 9 months

Text

Marked* older fics will link to AO3 ocean_bucky.

18+ & consent banners @vase-of-lilies.

· Bucky Barnes ·

Nothing But Trouble* | series · completed bucky barnes x ofc

The Avengers are forced to work together with a rookie from Europe for their next assignment, but she seems to be more trouble than she's worth. Will they let prejudice and misconceptions dissuade them, or give her a chance to prove herself?

Even More Trouble* | collection bucky barnes x ofc

A mismatched collection of one-shots following the further adventures of Bucky and - our favorite troublemaker - Agent 17.

Scatter!* | bucky barnes x sarah wilson · one-shot

Quick Fix* | bucky barnes x ofc · one-shot

while you read me poetry* | bucky barnes x reader · one-shot

· Matt Murdock ·

chamomile* | matt murdock x reader · one-shot

like a love letter* | matt murdock x reader · one-shot

Silly & Sweet* | matt murdock x reader · one-shot

pretty please* | matt murdock x reader · one-shot

neogenesis* | matt murdock x reader · one-shot

nepenthe | matt murdock x reader · one-shot

· Michael Kinsella ·

chase your love* | michael kinsella x reader · one-shot

pride* | michael kinsella x reader · one-shot

cingulomania | michael kinsella x reader · one-shot

· Steve Rogers ·

Near Ditmas Park* | steve rogers x reader · one-shot

Missing You Does That* | steve rogers x reader · one-shot

You* | steve rogers x reader · one-shot

· Other / Misc ·

Testaments to Love | varied pairings · collection

With, or without words, these testaments to love we make. A collection of unrelated short stories inspired by prompt lists.

cafuné | frank castle xreader · one-shot

noctuary | henry x reader · one-shot

#masterlist #v's scribbles

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stockholmdolly · 2 years

Text

EASY PREY (BEWARE OF THE LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD)

Summary: Imagine a helpless, pregnant girl who's just been yanked from the serenity of her home and shoved into a dirty van. Kidnapped. Alone. Terrified.

Now forget her ...

Picture instead a pregnant girl, manipulative prodigy. She is shoved into a dirty van and, from the first moment of her kidnapping, feels a calm desire for two things: to save her unborn son and to exact merciless revenge.

She is methodical, calculating, scientific in her plotting. A clinical sociopath? Leaving nothing to chance, secure in her timing and practice, she waits for the perfect moment to strike. This is what happens when the victim is just as cold as the captors.

The agents trying to find a kidnapped girl have their own frustrations and desires wrapped into this chilling drama. In the twists of intersecting stories, one is left to ponder. Who is the victim? Who is the aggressor?

Pairings: dark!Steve rogers x soft!dark?reader; dark!Natasha Romanoff x soft!dark?reader; eventual bucky barnes x reader

Warnings: I’m not sure yet if I’m going to include non-con, but there’s gonna be violence, torture, curse words.

Word count: 2,821.

Author’s note: Hello fanfiction world, it is me! Stockholm Dolly. This is based on one of my fav books, I’m destroying it a bit but the main plot still stays. The reader isn’t dark per se just really intelligent and have a really great survival instinct, there’s not damsels in distress or victims in this blog. Also I love Frank Grillo, so, in this world Rumlow is going to be a good guy. I’m not following any timeline everyone’s alive, just most of them are monsters hahaha

CHAPTER 1/26

4-5 DAYS IN CAPTIVITY

I lay there on the fourth day plotting their death, revenge is all that floods my mind. Compiling assets in a list in my mind: a loose floor board, a red knit blanket, a high window, exposed beams, a keyhole, my condition…

I remember my thoughts then, there he is outside the door AGAIN, I think, even tho it’s been 17 years. Perhaps those days will forever be my present because I survived so completely. And, I must say now, with no lack of pride, my result, my undeniable victory, was no less than a masterpiece.

On day 4, I was gathering the assets and trying to fit them together…How I can make them useful for my escape? Over and over while searching for more assets. Ah, yes, of course, the bucket. And yes, yes, the box spring is new, he didn’t remove the plastic. As I keep assigning number to my asset list, I hear the cracking of the floor outside my jail cell (a bedroom). He’s definitely out there, then the keyhole turned, and he burst in without the decency of announce himself (I’m a prisoner after all, I don’t have the right), he dropped a tray on my bed of food, no utensils (not so stupid)

- More water? He asked, in his abrupt, dull and deep, monotone.

- Yes, please

He was clever, but everyone has a weak spot, we aren’t perfect as much as we mastered our tasks or “jobs”, he just didn’t have crossed paths with someone more dangerous than him. He had a pattern, I figured on day 3, always asking if I wanted more water. Then he leaves and locks the door.

I had decided from Hour 2 of Day 1 that I’d try to feign a schoolgirl politeness, be thankful, for I soon discovered I could outwit my captor, a man in his forties. Must be forty-something, he looks the same age as my dad. I knew I had the wits to beat this horrible, disgusting thing, and I was just twenty.

I had not yet grown bored by Day 4. Some might think sitting alone in a locked room would cause a mind to give way to dementia or delusion. Not me, I’m used to be alone, I like to be alone, call it a pandemic consequence, right? Hahaha

- You don’t scream or cry or beg me like the others did,” he said, sounding like he’d grasped some epiphany he’d been struggling with for days.

I turned my head fast toward his voice, as though possessed, intending in my motion to un-nerve him. I’m not sure if I did, but I believe he shimmied backwards a fraction.

- Would that make you feel better?” I asked.

- Shut the fuck up, you crazy little bitch. I don’t give a shit what you fucking sluts do, he said loudly and fast, as though reminding himself of his position of control. From the high decibel of his agitation, I surmised we were alone, wherever we were. This can’t be good. He’s safe yelling here. We’re alone. Just the two of us.

My first visitor came on Day 3. Certainly medical, he had cold fingers. I labeled him “The Doctor.” My second visitor came on Day 4, accompanied by The Doctor, who announced, “She is doing well, considering.” In a hushed tone, the second visitor said, “So this is her?” I labeled her “Mrs. Obvious.”

When The Doctor and Mrs. Obvious left, The Doctor advised my jailer to keep me calm and to allow me tranquility. But nothing changed to afford me calm or tranquility until the end of Day 4 when I asked for Assets #14, 15, and 16.

With head to chest and in the most submissive, insipid voice I could tolerate, I said, “Excuse me. I can’t really sleep and I wonder…anyway, maybe if I watched TV, or listened to a radio, or read, or even drew, a pencil with some paper, would maybe…help?”

I braced myself for a brutal, verbal tirade and even physical violence for my insolence.

He stared me down, grunted, and left without acknowledging my request.

About forty-five minutes later, I heard the now familiar floorboards rattle. I figured he was back, as was the established routine, to collect my plate, mug, and cups. However, when he opened the door, resting on his wide chest, he carried an old nineteen-inch television, a yard-sale radio about twelve inches long, a pad of paper tucked under his left arm, and a rather long, plastic school-kid case. The case, pink with two horses on the side, was the kind you buy for the first day of school and lose in a week. I wondered if I was in a schoolhouse. Must be abandoned if I am.

“Don’t ask for any more shit,” he said, yanking my tray from the bed and causing the empty plate and cups to topple and clatter. On his departure, he slammed the door. Noises. Uncomfortable noises with him.

Tempering my expectations, I slid the zipper on the pink case, anticipating one dull and stubbed pencil.

No way. Not only two new pencils, but a twelve-inch ruler, and a pencil sharpener too. The black sharpener had the number “15” on the side. I took immediate stock of this valuable asset, which I labeled, Asset #15, specifically the razor within. Asset #15 presents with its own label. I smiled at the whimsical thought that the sharpener purposefully joined my plot, a faithful soldier reporting for duty, and determined “15” would form at least a portion of the name of my escape plan.

So as to make my captor feel appreciated for his effort, I plugged in Asset #14, the TV, and pretended to watch. Obviously, I didn’t really care about his precious ego, but these ruses we engineer to trick our enemies, lull and rock them safely in their weak insecurities, until the time comes to spring the trap, pull the cord, and strike with the swift hand of death. Well, maybe not so swift, perhaps a tinge prolonged. He needs to suffer, just a little bit. I unhinged the bucket and used the sharp ends of the handle as a screwdriver.

Not one creature in the house or in the fields beyond surpassed my consciousness that night. Even the moon shrunk to a sliver of dawn while I worked the whole of Night 4.

He did not notice the subtle difference in my jail cell upon delivering my breakfast on Day 5, again on the offensive china plate. At lunch, I fought back a giggle when he asked if I wanted more water.

“Yes, please.”

He had no idea what lay ahead for him, nor the lengths I would go to impose my brand of justice. Who would have thought? This...this “heroes” pretending being all mighty and mercy, dedicated to whatever the fuck are trying to do with my baby, shame, I was kind of warming to them, even admired them.

I don’t care what the news said at the time, I did not run away. Obviously. Why would I have run away? Sure, they were mad. They were furious, but they would support me. They were my parents, and I their only child.

“But you are an honor student? What are you going to do about school?” My father had asked.

They were even more baffled during the clinic visit when they learned I had hidden my condition for seven months.

“How can she be seven months pregnant?” Mother said to the obstetrician, even though her voice did not match the way her eyes accepted the undeniable sight of me.

In reality, I had not merely “gained some weight,” but had grown a perfectly round globe beneath my then swelling breasts. Embarrassed with her own self-delusion, Mother hung her head and sobbed. My father put a tenuous hand on her back, not sure what to do with the woman who rarely shed a tear. Dr. Banner looked at me and pursed his lips, kindly though, and he changed the subject to the near future. “We’ll need to see her again next week. I want to run some tests. Please stop at the receptionist for an appointment.”

If only I knew then what I know now, I would have been more perceptive and caught the clue in real time. Instead, I was too wrapped in my parents’ disappointment to realize the duplicity behind the “receptionist’s” glare or the chlorophyll fog surrounding her misplaced presence. But I remember now; I had subconsciously logged this information at the time. As we approached her, the red-haired, tight-bunned woman with green eyes and false pink cheeks addressed only my mother.

“When did the doctor say she should return?” the “receptionist” asked.

“He said next week,” my mother answered.

“How about next Tuesday at two? Oh, wait, she’ll be in school, right? Prospect High?”

Mother hates unnecessary dialogue. Normally, she would have ignored, even sneered, at the irrelevant question about my high school. Normally, she might answer such a superfluous question with her own biting query, “Does it really matter where she goes?” She is volatile and has no patience for stupidity or people wasting her time. Ill-tempered, highly efficient, particular, methodical, and full of disdain, these are her qualities: she is a trial lawyer. But on that day, she was just a distressed mother, and she hastily answered the question as she fumbled through her date book.

“Yes, yes, Prospect High. How about three-thirty?”

“Sure. Let’s put her at three-thirty, next Tuesday.”

“Thank you.” Mother was only barely listening at this point, and she quickly shuffled me and my father out of the clinic. The receptionist, however, continued to eye us, and I eyed her eyeing us. At the time, I thought she was collecting town gossip about an “unfortunate” pregnancy from a “prominent family.”

She had our address from my records, of course, meant she could correctly conclude that I walked to school, down a heavily wooded and rural country road. Like a wrapped gift, I presented as the perfect target for this scout. Behind her squinting eyes of cold calculation and her curled hooked nose, she must have set things in motion the second we left the clinic. Perhaps my memory betrays me and makes me imagine this, but in the pictures in my mind, I see her pick up a phone and cover her pink-stained lips to speak. In this picture, her green eyes never lose sight of my return stare....Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, I was too wrapped in my mother’s hidden disappointment to even recognize her, of fucking course I knew her, she frequented Tony’s lab from time to time, even talked to me a few times (now I know why she was so invested in me telling my parents about the pregnancy and how she said the internship program covered all my doctor appointments)

On the Monday following the appointment with Bruce, the day before my scheduled follow-up, I slipped into my lined, black raincoat and grabbed an umbrella before leaving for school. My backpack was stuffed with books, a pair of stretch pants, sports bra, socks, and change of underwear—all needed for an after-school yoga class I had not signed up for. It was a tiny detail remaining from my months of unintentional deception, one I had neglected to tell my parents, for I was taking yoga on advice from a maternity book I had stolen from the library. Bottom line, to anyone else who didn’t know, it appeared as though I’d left with a change of clothes.

At the end of the driveway, I had an equidistant choice of turning left or right: the back entrance of the school to my left and the front entrance to my right. I timed the distance once, going to the left took 3.5 minutes, and going right took 3.8 minutes, door to door. Really, the decision of going left or right landed upon my daily whim. My whim got it wrong on that Monday.

I turned right and continued under the canopy of my black umbrella in the direction of traffic. Fat raindrops pelted my cover and the ground around me, as though an airstrike began or the gunman had returned. Whenever I hear firing pounding like this, I think of first grade, so naturally, I thought of alarm bells and the blessed sight of policemen pig-piling a gunman. Distracted in this way and lost in macabre memory, I failed to notice the wet, hard, gray clay morning was a prelude, a herald of bad fortune.

Had I gone left, he would not have been able to pull the van alongside me to take me by surprise. He would have caused too much of a scene, for he had only about five seconds of roadway to haul me in, undetected. They had planned this out. Practiced, I believe. At first, I supposed they thought me worth their time. A healthy, young girl with a healthy baby boy in her belly. A girl with high honors, from a wealthy family, and the prospect of a startling career in science. I had received awards for my advanced experiments, demonstrations, models, and reports. Every summer since the age of six, I went to science internships at Stark Tower, my parents were close friends with Tony Stark, and all year I entered private contests. With the help of my parents, Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, I built a lab in the basement with state-of-the-art equipment. A store-bought microscope had no place in my world. My equipment came from the same catalogs used by major universities and international pharma corporations. I studied, I measured, I counted, I calculated, everything. Be it physics, chemistry, medicine, microbiology, I loved all pursuits requiring order and comparison, calculations, and provable theories. I was coddled in this hobby of science and indulged by busy parents with a surplus of money. MIT was a foregone conclusion. My baby and I are very valuable, I thought as the abduction occurred. To my great dismay, however, I soon learned a hard lesson: we were not wanted for brains or ransom.

About twenty steps into my morning commute, a white van appeared upon a whisper, masked by a clap of thunder. The side door slid open, and a blonde built man pulled me in from my left....I lift my gaze to him, Steve Rogers, America’s Golden Boy, I didn’t have a reason to be afraid, I even was going to say hello to him when, simple as that. Quick as that. He threw me on an armchair, which was bolted to the corrugated metal floor of the van. He jammed a gun so close to my face, the steel hit my teeth, tasting of an inadvertent bite of the fork, the one that lingers in your mouth. One car whooshed by, splashing the quick puddles on the pavement, oblivious to my plight. Instinctively, I crossed my belly with my arms. His eyes followed my action; he moved the barrel of the gun to my navel.

“You fucking move and I’ll put a bullet in that baby.”

Stunned to frozen stillness, I gasped and lost my breath. My heart even paused, despite the otherwise wild beating. I am not usually rocked so—only in times of serious shock might I be jolted, my heart set to race. For most of my confinement, I mastered this personal flaw. In the van, however, suffering the debilitation of a flash of emotion, I sat motionless as he pushed me forward, yanked the backpack from my shoulders, and threw it to the floor beside my open umbrella. He placed the gun on an olive-colored stove, held in place on the opposite wall of the van by a series of bungee cords. Then he ripped my arms from my stomach and wrapped duct tape around my wrists and the arms of the chair. For some inexplicable reason, which I have not quite figured out, he turned a green oil rag into a sloppy blindfold. But I’ve already seen your face bastard, you’re supposed to be a hero Mr. Self-righteous, Captain America.

I was taken that fast. I was taken for turning right. I was attacked from my left.

“Where are you taking me?” I yelled to him.

He said nothing.

“How much do you want? My parents will pay. Please let me go.”

“We don’t want your money, bitch. You’re going to deliver that baby for us, and I’m going to throw you in a quarry with the rest of you worthless girls. Now shut the fuck up or I swear I’ll fucking kill you right now. I don’t need any shit. Do you hear me?!”

I didn’t answer.

“Do you fucking hear me?!”

“Yes.”

And those were the facts. I put my foot on the backpack to prevent it from sliding away.

151 notes · View notes

sergeantxrogers · 2 years

Text

| mizaru - see no evil |

Summary: Working for Alexander Pierce had never been easy. With his new secret project, however, it gets a little harder to stay on the “right” track.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of torture/abuse, death, possible cliffhanger

This is part 1 in a three-part mini-series.

____________________

CONFIDENTIAL

Project: The Winter Soldier Program, cont. Authorization: Level 10 - Pierce, Alexander Goodwin Date: 12/17/1945, disc. - 05/20/2014 Subject No.: 17

Your eyes burned into the file on your desk. You were too afraid to open it. Yes, as his executive assistant, you had demanded Pierce tell you what was going on behind the scenes, but that didn’t make you any less hesitant to read the horrid details.

You knew whose picture would be staring back at you once you opened the file. You had heard enough about the program to know who he was, and who he had become. What you didn’t know, and what you were intent on finding out, was why Pierce, of all people, needed him, and what for.

With a deep breath, you straightened your back in your office chair, and reached for the file with reluctant fingers. Sure enough, light eyes met yours when you opened it. Tired eyes, the spirit in them broken and bent so far it was unrecognizable. Hair not short yet, awkwardly, not long either. His cheeks sunken in and eye sockets dull.

The time stamp on the picture of Test Subject No. 17 showed it was taken in the 40s. The fresh scarring on his shoulder told you as much. Bucky Barnes had only just splintered, had fought his last fight and was ready to give in. You could see it in the way he pleaded to the camera with his eyes, in the way his shoulders slumped slightly, in the way the frown on his face seemed indifferent. It made a chill run down your spine, and you flipped the picture over, unable to look at it any longer, even though you knew it made no difference.

Pierce had you sworn in to the project the minute he agreed to hand you the file: everything you knew now put your life at risk. Therefore, you were to work with him. He needed you there, he had said.

You could flip the picture over and ignore it all you wanted, but in an hour you were going to be sitting in a room with the very man from the photo, and thinking about it made you feel uneasy. The nerves weren’t from fear; you knew perfectly well the Winter Soldier wouldn’t hurt you unless ordered to do so. You suspected the queasy feeling in your stomach was more out of hurt, for him.

Your suspicion was only confirmed as you continued reading the file, reports from each study, each test, each wiping. The string of words that made him what he was: Желание, Ржавый, Семнадцать, Рассвет, Печь, Девять, Добросердечный, Возвращение на Родину, Один, Товарный вагон.

Zola’s reports that had been retrieved from archives deep in the government’s systems were arguably the worst, explaining in explicit detail all the things they did to make James Barnes comply when he wasn’t feeling cooperative. Pictures of lashes on his bare back, on his chest, on his good arm. Reports of retracting meals for days at a time. Burn marks in the shape of HYDRA’s crest on his stomach and ribcage, bloody noses, blood dripping out of his mouth, discoloring his teeth, broken from clenching hard and fighting back. Disciplinary methods.

You slammed the file shut.

Inhaling deeply in an attempt to clear your head, you gathered the file along with a few additional papers in your hands, and pushed your chair back. Checking the time on your wrist watch, you stood up from your desk with a small sigh. 9 a.m. on the dot.

Smiling at the occasional agent and intern that would pass by you and wave, you made your way to the elevator, trying to keep your jittery nerves at bay. Finger shaking slightly as you pressed the button for the lobby, your own reflection stared back at you in the closed elevator doors, and you headed down.

____________________

You thanked the taxi driver after paying, slamming the door shut behind you. The Ideal Federal Savings Bank loomed above you, and it pushed a sense of dread into your throat as you remembered why you were there. Walking in, files in hand, your shoes echoed on the tiled floors throughout the almost empty lobby. The only things you could see were a desk with an older woman sitting behind it, a large sign reading Bank Teller above it, and a man in a long, white coat standing beside it. Waiting for you. Scientist, you realized.

Swallowing heavily and fiddling with the edges of the papers in your hands, you saw the young man nod at you, then motion for you to follow him. You did, following him through a set of bar doors. And another one. And another one. Until you were so far into the jail-like bars that you couldn’t see the bank teller anymore when you looked behind you.

Following him through one last set of bars, you saw a group of several more scientists dressed just like the man Pierce had sent out to get you. They stood in a vault, surrounded by hundreds of safe deposit boxes. You saw your boss, and when he turned to greet you as you walked in, you saw him.

Sitting in the chair placed in the middle of the room, he made no move to acknowledge the fact that someone new had just walked in, keeping his eyes focused on the wall in front of him. Empty, devoid and blank. Clad in dark leathers and a belted vest, black pants on him with multiple pockets, the knife strapped to his thigh gleamed in the overhead lights. The man sitting in front of you in this room wasn’t the Bucky Barnes you read about in history articles, or saw pictures of in the museum. The man before you was hardly a man, in fact. More like a machine working only on code and binary numbers. Your gut clenched as Pierce spoke.

“You’re late,” he said blankly.

“Sorry sir, traffic,” you explained shortly, shrugging a shoulder lamely. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the Soldier, sitting tensely as if waiting for the order to pounce at any given moment.

“Yeah, well,” Pierce exhaled, clapping his hands loudly. The sound made you jump slightly, and your heart almost failed you when the Soldier’s watchful eyes flickered to you for a split second, a faint furrow in his brow, then went back to the wall.

“You’re just sitting in today.”

“Wh- huh?” You whipped your head towards Pierce, eyebrows raised slightly in question.

“You’ll just be observing today. Writing down things when I say, handing me reports. Just watching.”

“Oh.”

You nodded slowly, then stepped your way steadily to the chair in the corner of the vault. It gave you a vantage point of everything.

Pierce turned his attention away from you, facing the soldier sitting mutely in front of him.

“Mission report.” His voice cut through the thick air in the vault, and you sat with baited breath as you watched the soldier raise his eyes slightly to look up at your boss.

“Успешный.“

The word rolled off his tongue effortlessly, immediately, the way he was trained to do, and his hollow voice echoed in the vault. Your eyes caught sight of the red star painted on his arm, the silver metal catching the light.

For a moment you wondered how different he would look with his old left arm, flesh and blood and bone instead of cold, grinding metal. A memory of his picture in the Smithsonian crossed your mind, hair shorter and face bright back then, standing next to Captain America. He had a smile on his face, whereas looking at him now, you wondered how much they had to wear him down for his face to look like it never had the capability to do anything else other than stare blankly.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by Pierce’s contemplating hum. He swiveled on his heel, looking towards you.

“Take a note for me, would you?”

You nodded frantically, fumbling with the pen in your fingers. Whether it was nerves, or the cold air in the room, or the puncturing glare of the Fist of HYDRA staring you down, it took you a while to finally get the pen upright, positioning it above your open notepad.

“Write...,” Pierce started, pacing back and forth slowly between you and the soldier. “Write that the mission was successful, and that part 2 is in action.”

You scribbled what he said down with furrowed brows, then glanced up at him, confused. “What was the mission?”

“Killing Nick Fury.”

His words hit you like a slap across the face, unexpected and very, very painful. Immediately, you thought back to all the times Fury had come to visit Pierce, greeting you politely at your desk, asking you about your day. Why did he need Fury dead?

Instead of letting it show, you cleared your throat. “And, uh- what’s part 2?”

“Initiating Project Insight, of course.”

You nodded in understanding, dropping your eyes back to your notepad. The pen in your hand was slipping, your grip all of a sudden too sweaty.

Pierce muttered something to one of the scientists closest to him, then turned towards the exit.

“Wipe him.”

Those two words made the Winter Soldier’s head shoot up, eyes flitting around him, taking in the scientists and guards reaching for his arms and chest, pushing him back. Pierce turned his head back to look at you over his shoulder.

“Let’s go. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

You scurried over to where he stood, not looking back as you walked through the bars through which you had come only moments before. You didn’t have to look, though. His screams and grunts of protest echoed throughout the vault, down the hallway, through your very bones, and as you walked you wondered how much of his humanity was really left untouched by HYDRA.

____________________

Studying the Winter Soldier had become standard protocol in your job description. It started with just compiling and sorting the files of all agents involved in Project Insight, which led to logging all the soldier’s missions. After a month of that, Pierce had you as executive to the project. You were to sit in at every meeting with him, catalog and report every detail. Eventually, Pierce gave the role of “interviewer” over to you, claiming it was easy enough and he had bigger things to worry about.

You started spending more time at the bank than at your desk, maybe even your apartment. The bank teller at the front, whose name you had learned to be Amelia, greeted you kindly every time you came in. There was no more need for any scientists or agents to wait for you, to lead you down the tunnel of barred doors, to bring you to the Winter Soldier.

Your job was to visit him every single day, keep track of progress, or possible regression, and lead the program. You hated it. You hated it because of the way he would seem to sit up straighter when he saw you coming, hated it because of the way he never really looked you in the eyes and flinched ever so slightly whenever you made any sudden movement. The number of agents guarding you had slowly dwindled too, falling to a measly two once they realized the soldier saw you as no threat and would do nothing to harm you. For that, in a way, you were almost grateful. Being watched and scrutinized by them had made you anxious, pressured, wondering if you could really even do your job.

You sighed as you made your way through the bars, waving off the two guards posted at front, and they made their way out into the hallway to wait. One hour. One hour, every day, and without fail, the moment the hour was up the guards were storming back into the vault and grabbing the soldier by his shoulders. You, however, were out of there before he could open his mouth for the first scream. You would be sick otherwise.

“Well, Soldat,” you cleared your throat, and the man sitting mutely in front of you nodded once.

You stood awkwardly, chewing on the inside of your cheek. Without any active missions or specific instructions from Pierce, most of your daily meetings went the same: you’d pull up your chair to sit in front of him, he’d stare blankly into your eyes as you asked him technical questions, and you’d feel a dull pang in your heart the entire hour.

That was just how it went.

You sighed again, heavily, as you pulled up your chair and sat down.

As you stared at him, you had to remind yourself to keep your tongue tied, to refrain from mentioning anything from his past life, refrain from even mentioning his real name. You knew he was Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier, however, did not. And Pierce intended to keep it that way.

So, you started the routine questions.

What have you eaten today? Хлеб и курица.

Have you drank water today? Да.

What was your last mission? Устранение Ника Фьюри.

He always answered in Russian, and you couldn’t understand him but you had asked the same questions enough times that you could tell if he gave a different answer than usual. Most days, it was the same.

You hummed in response, jotting down a note on your open notepad. You peered up at him from beneath your lashes, to find him looking down at your notes, with a peculiar expression on his face. It was almost a childlike curiosity.

“Can you write?” you asked him, and his eyes flicked up to yours. He nodded, only once, as he always did.

“Do you... do you want to write something?”

You asked the question with hesitancy, slightly pushing the notepad in his direction, and he glanced down at it, before up at you again.

Slowly, with narrowed eyes, as if he were assessing a threat, he pulled the pad from your hand, then the pen from your other one. It looked ridiculous in his hand, small and fragile, as he held it. The soldier glanced up at you again, a question of hesitance in his eyes, and you nodded.

“Go ahead,” you told him.

He eyed the pen carefully, then brought it to the paper.

You had expected his handwriting to be messy, scrawled with the brute carelessness he held in the taking of other lives. It was actually the other half of him: the half that was beaten into compliance, trained into submission. His handwriting was neat, sterile, straight. As if he was taught that messy writing would give him a beating, which left you wondering for the thousandth time if there was any part of him HYDRA had left uncovered, unscarred.

You leaned in to get a better look at what he had written.

Возвращение на pодину.

You’d studied enough to recognize the words, and their meaning. Homecoming. What you didn’t understand was why he had chosen those specific words to write.

He saw the confused look on your face, then carefully pointed to the words, saying them out loud like it would help you realize something you couldn’t before.

Giving him a small shake of your head, you took the notepad and pen back.

“You can understand English, right?”

You realized it was a stupid question the minute it left your mouth, because you knew he spoke English if he was “out” for too long, but he nodded anyways.

“So, why speak in Russian?” In your mind, it was a valid question. HYDRA was German.

“KGB.”

Three letters spoken simply, barren, yet they told you everything you needed to know. You looked at him for a moment, thinking of him being shipped to different organizations around the world, like some sort of weapon, used whichever way they pleased. A feeling of sadness and violation for him swam in your gut as you met his dulled out, blue eyes.

It was moments like these that had you finding yourself weak, willing to lose your job and possibly your life if it meant you could tell him who he really was. If it meant you could show him a picture of his best friend and he would be able to recognize him.

You cleared your throat, about to ask him another question, when sudden footsteps echoed through the hallway leading to the fault. Both of you turned your heads to the sound, the soldier’s body tensing up and turning toward the entrance.

Pierce stormed in, looking as livid as you had ever seen him, guards trailing in behind him.

“There’s been a breach,” he huffed out, and you gave him a confused look.

He pointed a finger at the soldier next to you. “You’re coming with me tonight.”

After that sentence, he turned on his heel, and on instinct the Winter Soldier stood to follow.

“You too, Y/N,” Pierce called out. You looked up at the man standing tall next to you, towering over you with a solid expression on his face. He tilted his head, ever so slightly, as if he was saying “Come on”. So you stood, and you followed, guards rearing up behind you.

You tried not to pay too much attention to the dangerous form who had seemingly taken a step closer to you. Acting as a shield, almost. Almost.

____________________

The Winter Soldier stood before you, waiting for instructions. You were to prep him for his biggest mission yet, one Pierce hadn’t told you. Your instructions, however vague they may have been, were clear enough: prepare the soldier for life or death.

As you checked and rechecked the tightness of his harnesses and gun straps, you tried avoiding his eyes as much as possible, as they followed you carefully, watching your every move. You had tried pulling information about his mission out of him, but Bucky answered all your curious questions with a simple and curt nyet. He wasn’t allowed to tell you, no matter how often you were with him, because a greater threat with higher authority was always hanging above his head, finger on the trigger ready to take his life at any given moment.

A soft sigh left your lips as you handed the soldier another knife, just in case, and he took it from your hand with fluid ease. You watched him tuck it into the holster on his thigh, movements calculated and expression stoic.

“You seem ready enough to me,” you muttered, crossing your arms and letting your eyes fall to the heavy boots on his feet. You eyed his mask- his muzzle- in the corner of the room, laying by a free pair of gloves and a set of bullets, and swallowed heavily.

If this were any other usual mission, you’d hand it over to him. But you were strictly instructed not to. You were to leave his face bare, and you didn’t know why but you had a feeling it was part of Pierce’s bigger plan, bigger picture, something that fit like a puzzle piece into the long run.

He saw the absent look in your eyes, and followed your gaze to look behind his shoulder. Catching sight of the mask, he turned his head back towards you and tilted it slightly.

“Без маски?“

His gravelly voice pulled you out of your stupor, and your eyes met his. You shook your head.

The soldier shifted his weight, favoring his right leg, as he stared at you, arms down by his sides.

“You ready?”

A nod.

“Should I let Pierce know?”

Another nod.

You swallowed back the bitter taste of worry on your tongue as you dialed Pierce’s number, because you weren’t even sure what you were so worried about. It would be fine. It always was.

____________________

“Steve Rogers?”

The disbelief was evident in your voice, concern dripping off your words.

Pierce nodded, as you followed him into his office.

The night before, Pierce had given his number one player a new assignment. He had made you leave the room when he told him, for reasons he refused to disclose. It was the mission you had prepped him for, unknowingly sending him into his hardest battle yet.

“And- and the Widow, too?”

You almost tripped over your own feet making your way to his desk. He sat down, exhaling a long, annoyed breath as you stood in front of him.

“With all due respect, sir, what the hell?”

Pierce brought a hand up to his head, rubbing his temple.

“Sitwell sold us out. I can’t have that.”

“So you’re having him eliminated? Captain America, too?”

Pierce simply nodded, and you let out a small sigh, realizing you would get nowhere with him.

“I hope you know how insane that sounds.”

“I know.”

“And how hard it’ll be to do.”

“Not for the asset.”

You flinched internally at the name he used for- for Bucky.

“Captain America is a hard man to kill, Pierce.”

He merely shrugged. “The Winter Soldier is a hard man to escape.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, boss.”

And with that, you left his office.

Your walk to your desk was a silent one, your shoes scuffing the tiles as you plopped yourself down into your seat, muttering to yourself about not being paid enough for this shit.

As you rested your bag on the wooden desk, the pile of files and notes shifted underneath it and your notepad caught your eye. Carefully, you pulled it out from under the pile, opening it to the last used page. The Winter Soldier’s neat handwriting sat in the middle, strokes careful and with meaning. You heard his voice in your mind, repeating the words to you, and you dragged a finger softly along the pen marks.

A quiet beep pulled your attention from the notepad to the phone on your desk, a small red button blinking at the bottom. You gave a small sigh, and pressed it.

“Yes, sir?”

“We’re going to the bank,” Pierce’s voice seeped through the speaker. You hung up, then looked back at your notepad. Turning back to see if Pierce had left his office yet, you ripped the page out, leaving the edge messy and jagged as you opened a drawer and shoved it inside, slamming it shut.

Gathering your papers again, and your notepad, you stood from your chair just as Pierce showed up.

“C’mon, he’s back and I don’t have all day.” Well, he was in a good mood.

The ride to the bank was a quiet one. Once you got there, Pierce shot out of the car like a man with a mission, and you had to speed walk to keep up with him.

Greeting Amelia with a smile, a pinch of worry seized you when she gave you a small, worried smile back, eyes shifting between you and Pierce. Making your way down the hall, the first thing you noticed was the abundance of guards. More than usual.

You followed Pierce and two guards as they led the two of you to the soldier. In front of the doors, stood a neat looking man, in a dress shirt and tie, glasses perched on his nose.

“He’s unstable-” he told Pierce, but it seemed you were the only one paying him any attention as you gave him a fearful look.

When you walked into the vault, you felt a queasiness building in your stomach as you took in the difference in scenarios. Unlike the indifferent, cold, almost bordering on bored soldier you were used to seeing every day, this one seemed... distressed. The doctor working on his arm when you walked in stepped back as Pierce waved everyone around him away. You glanced at the soldier sitting shirtless in the chair, and didn’t let your eyes linger too long as you glanced away.

“Mission report,” Pierce demanded, as if he already knew what had happened, but wanted to hear it from the man himself. Like a father scolding his child.

Bucky stayed silent, staring down at the floor with a pained look in his eyes. You swallowed.

“Mission report, now.”

When he refused to speak again, Pierce walked up to him slowly. You stood behind him, fiddling with the edge of your papers again as you watched.

Kneeling down slightly in front of him, Pierce looked at him for a moment before landing a harsh slap to the soldier’s face, sending his head shooting to the right. A soft gasp left your mouth before you could stop yourself, and the soldier brought his head back to glance at you, before speaking.

“The man on the bridge...,” he said with furrowed brows. “Who was he?”

The English caught you by surprise. You hadn’t even realized how long he had been out of cryo, and you swallowed again.

Pierce stared at him for a moment. “You met him earlier on another assignment.”

He spoke to him as if he were a child, you realized. They all did. They treated this man that they had broken down and rebuilt into something horrible, like a child who asked too may questions about things he shouldn’t need or want to know.

The distress in Bucky’s eyes as he spoke told you what you wanted to know. He had remembered something, someone, and fled.

“I knew him.” His words were quiet, and unsure.

As he said them, and as Pierce pulled over a chair- your chair- to sit down, the soldier looked at you again. You almost heard the snapping of your heartstrings as you took in the look on his face.

His shoulders rose and fell and he dropped his focus back to Pierce, now sitting in front of him.

“Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century. And I need you to do it one more time.”

The soldier’s eyes filled with worry as he shifted them to the side.

“Society’s at a tipping point between order and chaos. Tomorrow morning we’re gonna give it a push. But, if you don’t do your part, I can’t do mine.”

Pierce spoke, but it seemed like Bucky’s mind was elsewhere, reeling and thinking. You shifted uncomfortably beside them, watching the exchange.

“And HYDRA can’t give the world the freedom it deserves,” Pierce continued.

The soldier brought his eyes up to look at Pierce.

“But I knew him,” he said, voice wavering and face pulling into something pained, as if it took him all his strength to say those four words.

Pierce sighed, then stood.

“Prep him,” he said to the man who was stood at front when you had first come in.

“He’s been out of cryofreeze for too long...”

As they spoke, you stood bolted to your spot, watching the soldier act more human than you had ever seen him. His eyes flicked up to yours, and you noticed they were filling up with tears.

You gave him a little shake of your head, opening your mouth but failing to say anything as you heard Pierce tell the men to wipe him, and start over again.

You watched with trembling fingers and weak knees as they pushed him back, like they had so many times before, shoving a mouth guard between his teeth, and he took it willingly. His eyes stared off into the space in front of him, and it was only when they chained him did you realize you were blinking back your own tears.

Pierce motioned with his head for you to follow him as Bucky started screaming, and you walked out of the vault, his cries of pain echoing and following you through the hallway.

Once the heavy bank door had shut behind you, you let out a deep, stale breath you didn’t know you were holding.

____________________

“Please, please, I’m just- I’m not-”

You stumbled over your words, tears falling freely down you cheeks as you kneeled on the floor in front of Natasha Romanoff, hands clasped tightly together in front of you. Begging to be spared.

“I’m just- I’m just his assistant,” you swore, pleading up at her, eyes flicking cautiously between her eyes and the loaded gun in her hand.

She hummed, then turned her head to Fury, who nodded at her.

“I know her. Good kid.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief as Natasha then reached out her hand for you. You took it hesitantly, standing up on wobbly legs. You had only then found enough strength in yourself to throw a glance at Pierce’s body bleeding out on the floor, Nick Fury’s bullet lodged in his abdomen, shards of glass surrounding him.

“Thank you,” you whispered to Fury, then turned to Natasha and repeated yourself, nodding frantically.

“Hope you’re not too mad we killed your boss.”

The casual way Natasha had said the sentence almost made you laugh. You shrugged.

“It... the pay was shit, anyways.”

Something outside caught your eye, and you moved over to the window of Pierce’s office to get a better look. Falling from the largest Helicarrier, and the one currently falling apart, out from the smoke and fire was Captain America’s shield. Your eyes followed it as it fell into the water, and then your snapped them back to the Helicarrier. Where was Steve? Where was Bucky? Why did the shield fall? How long do they both have before that thing completely collapses into the water?

A million questions and thoughts ran through your mind as you watched, hands plastered on the glass, smudging it as if you could somehow hold the Helicarrier up yourself long enough for both men to get off. You wished you could.

“C’mon, Rogers. Don’t be a pussy,” Fury muttered behind you, and you turned your attention to him.

“I thought you were dead.”

Your voice sounded blank and hollow to your own ears, and Fury rested a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“It’s a long story for another time.”

Your heart jolted when your eyes caught new movement.

Natasha let out a strangled “No” at the same time a gasp left your body. Steve Rogers fell from the Helicarrier, body heavy and lifeless as the water swallowed it whole. Your knees gave out from the shock, and you collapsed, hands sliding down the glass window.

“Oh, God, please...,” you whispered as fresh tears hit.

Tears, for Steve. Tears, for Bucky. For Steve because he lost his life trying to get his best friend back. How cruel of Pierce to send the Winter Soldier to Steve Rogers as a familiar face, without a mask, knowing it would make him weaker. And how cruel of him to send Bucky Barnes on a mission to kill his best friend, brainwashed and confused, doing only what he’s told with no control over stopping it.

You cried, and you cried some more. You sat at the window until dark fell upon the river, the expanse of the sky lowering in brightness until you heard Natasha’s boots crunching on broken glass behind you. You sniffled, staring blankly at the spot where Steve had fell into the water, when she called to you.

“We found him.”

Those three words made your heart race erratically.

“Is- is he...”

“He’s still alive.”

A surge of relief flooded through you at the realization that Steve Rogers was, in fact, not dead. Tears breached your lash line again, however, when something else came to mind. That also meant that Bucky hadn’t killed his best friend, and he wouldn’t have to live with that for the rest of his life. A small victory in comparison to the dozens of lives he’d already eradicated, but it was the quality of it that counted.

Glass shifted and crunched under your feet as you tried your best to ignore Pierce’s body still on the floor, long gone and only taunting you at this point, while you followed Natasha out the door.

____________________

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes

Born in 1916, Barnes grew up the oldest child of four. An excellent athlete who also excelled in the classroom, Barnes enlisted in the Army shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor. After winter training at Camp McCoy, Wisconsin, Barnes and the rest of the 107th shipped out to the Italian front. Captured by Hydra troops later that fall, Barnes endured long periods of isolation, depravation and torture. But his will was strong. In an ironic twist of fate, his prison camp was liberated by none other than his childhood friend, Steve Rogers, now Captain America.

Reunited, Barnes and Rogers led Captain America’s newly formed unit, The Howling Commandos. Barnes’ marksmanship was invaluable as Rogers and his team destroyed Hydra bases and disrupted Nazi troop movements throughout the European Theater.

Your eyes took in each and every word, flittering across the exhibit, taking in information, looking at his old pictures. You stopped when you came across one of Bucky and Steve smiling together, and the corner of your lips lifted.

Ignoring the crowd of people behind you, movement caught your eye. To your right, standing right where you had stood moments before as you read his exhibit, was the Winter Soldier. Only now, he was Bucky Barnes.

Standing in a dark, heavy jacket, with a baseball cap covering his hair, you watched him read his own biography. You slowly took a step toward him, and that was when he noticed you.

A flash of recognition shone in his eyes as he clenched his jaw. You could tell he remembered you, if only a bit, by the way he turned to face you, instead of to run.

“Do you know me?”

Your question was soft, and inviting.

After a moment of hesitation, he gave you a slow nod.

“You worked with that guy... that important guy who always talked to me,” he muttered, eyes scanning the crowd behind you to see if anyone was listening.

You nodded. “That’s right.”

Slowly, you pulled something out of your pocket, and you saw his shoulders tense, so you put your free hand out in front of you.

“It’s okay, I just...”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed in on your hand, and recollection flooded his features as he realized what you held out to him.

In your hand, yellow and crinkled, with a jagged, ripped edge and pencil parks along the sides, was a paper. The paper you had ripped out from your notepad, with three words in Russian sitting pretty in the middle.

Bucky swallowed heavily, and took a step closer to you, blue eyes locking onto yours.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

You shrugged, giving him a small smile. “I had a pretty good guess.”

He stayed silent, then looked over his shoulder, checking again. Just in case.

“So,” he said quietly, “what now?”

You smiled at him, folding the paper up neatly and putting it back in your pocket as you spoke.

“I have a plan. Ever been to Bucharest?”

____________________

Translation:

- Желание, Ржавый, Семнадцать, Рассвет, Печь, Девять, Добросердечный, Возвращение на Родину, Один, Товарный вагон. - Longing, rusted, seventeen, daybreak, furnace, nine, benign, homecoming, one, freight car.

- Успешный - Successful

- Хлеб и курица. - Bread and chicken.

- Дa. - Yes.

- Устранение Ника Фьюри - Elimination of Nick Fury.

- Без маски? - No mask?

____________________

TAGLIST:

@dreamsley @a-ngeli-que @mormonprincess @agirlinherhead @s-katergorl @ace-27749 @leyannrae @tailsoflightning @acidwidow @angelofthorr @gallysonegoodlung @creatingjana @gitasor

#marvel #mcu #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier #the winter soldier fanfiction #turn a blind eye

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midnightswithdearkatytspb · 3 years

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VelvetCardiganBucky’s Recommendations 2021: Week 17 | April 18th – April 24th

Welcome to week 17 of my recommendations, if you would like to be featured on a future list, I follow the hashtag #VelvetCardiganBucky, message me, tag me in your future works, or reblog this post and link to your story, one-shot, Masterlist, writing challenge, etc.

Be aware some if not most stories and writers on this list are meant to be consumed by an audience of those 18+. My blog is also an 18+ blog.

✨Page breaks are made @firefly-graphics✨

«Last Week

Week 18»

My Masterlist

My Fic Rec List of Mafia/Mob Bucky/Sebastian & Steve/Chris/Andy

Stuff I Posted This Week

Forever & Always: Stage 1 - Denial | Pt.1 » Bucky Barnes x Witch!Reader & Platonic Avengers x Reader — Y/N “Birdy” (nicknamed by her family), comes from a long line of witches and warlocks, living her days at the New Avengers Compound, alongside her friends. The Avengers are part of her family and her family is always welcome to the compound. Things for once seemed to be going well now that all was right from the attack on Thanos, everyone was alive, all was forgiven, friendships were thriving, that all ended when Birdy’s brother came calling with sad news, their mother had suddenly passed. These are the stages of grief Birdy faces, through the loss of her best friend, her protector, her mother.

His Favorite Day » Chris Evans x Reader — Chris’s favorite day of the year is your birthday.

Bucky Barnes

One-Shots:

*No Hidden Messages by @jobean12-blog » TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Sam sends you a picture of Bucky and the endgame is priceless. | Honestly I love me some dominant Bucky, and if Sam had sent me that picture I would have dropped my phone and been like yep that my babe. I was thinking something more dirty but I’ll keep that thought to myself. 😉

Sucker Punch by @buckyblues » Boxer!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader — Bucky thought he knew what was his, until he accidentally let it roam free. | Someone come dump a cold bucket of water on me please?

Someone Like You by @startrekkingaroundasgard » Bucky Barnes x Hydra Agent!Reader — Taken from their SHIELD prison cell, the reader finds themself alone with The Winter Soldier negotiating for their life. | I really enjoyed reading this, the sass of the reader and how Bucky handles them. It’s just so perfect. Nicola says there is more to come for this pair and I’m so very much looking forward to it.

(Mini) Series:

Happy & So Happy by @mrwinterr » Rockstar!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader — You meet your favorite artist and get more than what you bargained for. | The smut in this is hot and by the end you are hoping the reader gets a happy ending not a tragic one.

*A Tender Heart 💜 Pt. 3 by @river-soul » Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader — You’ve been sweet on Bucky since you started working at the compound six months ago. Normally quiet and mild mannered, an unexpected fight with a coworker brings Bucky into your orbit. [A/B/O dynamics and explicit sexual content, 18+] | I feel the love that is radiating from this story and I really love it and the little bit of smut we get in chapter 3 is perfect!

the (after) party by @buckycuddlebuddy sequel loft music » fuckboy!bucky barnes x reader — “why don’t we have this thing they call goodbye sex? one last time.” he leaned forward, his lips brushing your ear. “i’ll make it good for you.” | In some strange way it was therapeutic to read this but at the same time I felt bad for the reader in the first part. Second part you are rooting for her but still feeling bad. I will say the smut in this is perfect.

Just Like Dad Pt. 3 🦾 Pt. 1 🦾 Pt. 2 by @ladyfallonavenger » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky finally confronts Steve and moves forward with his life. | Very sweet ending and I loved it.

Sweet Dreams 🥞 Pt. 4 🥞 Pt. 5 🥞 Pt. 6 🥞 Pt. 7 by @jedimastermelkor » Bucky Barnes x Reader & ? x Avenger — Your daily routine involves waking up in the morning, going to work and sulking at night. But then you meet the man you’ve fantasized about for your entire life, Bucky Barnes. At the same time, you’ve caught someone else’s eye and his first step in winning you over is to cook you breakfast. But will you be welcoming of that person’s affections? | I like how she named the puppy Pancake and the first thing the mysterious avenger gave her was pancakes. I don’t want to give too much away but things are getting really good and you find out who the mysterious avenger is in chapter 6!

Steve Rogers

One-Shots:

*Caught by @giorno-plays-piano » Bluebeard!Steve Rogers x Reader — If he kept you warm, saying words of love to you every day while he looked you in the face, you’d marry him even if in a year he hanged you just like all his wives in the dungeon of his castle. | It’s dark but in a soft way and it’s so good. I highly recommend you go and read it.

Drabble Request by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve Rogers x Reader — We find out how Steve and Reader met before they ever got in a relationship. Takes place before Tell Me What You Want. | I loved this so much, I was laughing and pictured this whole piece so vividly in my brain. Also I just want a part where Bucky teases Steve about that night in front of reader making her giggle, maybe at the wedding?

(Mini) Series:

*Yuánfèn 📖 Pt. 4 by @writerwrites » Steve Rogers x Reader — When you’ve lost everything and try to run away from your problems, you keep finding a way back to the one person who completely understands. Can you make another person happy with a broken heart? | I always look forward to the updates on this story. It brings me so much comfort and the relationship that is blossoming between the reader and Steve is beautiful and organic. I highly recommend this.

Misc.

Headcanons:

*Just Like Her Old Man by @rebelwrites » Chibs Telford x Reader — I asked for: Parents get called into school for a meeting due to their daughter fighting, and trying not to be proud. Taking them out for a treat after the meeting. | It turned out so great. If you knew me at my Sons Anarchy Days, you know I loved Chibs the most. This feed my love for him even more. Thank you Heather!!

One-Shot:

*A Simple Solution by @sweetlyscared » Andy Barber x Fem!Reader, Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader, Andy Barber x Fem!Reader x Ari Levinson — You and Andy had a purely sexual relationship for several months, and you’d started to grow attached to him. Unfortunately, life has a way of complicating things, and a chance encounter at a bookstore had you stuck between a rock and a hard place. | We all owe a huge thank you to Sweet Lee, for writing and posting this. She wrote our dreams out so perfectly, and if you haven’t thought of this now you can. It’s just so hot and good, I for one am very thankful.

(Mini) Series:

*Give In 🐈‍⬛ Pt. 23 🐈‍⬛ Pt. 24 🐈‍⬛ Pt. 25 by @overr-written » soft!dark!Lee Bodecker x Reader — She didn’t think she was anything special. So when the intimidating Sheriff takes an interest in her, she can’t help but feel a little unsettled. Her boring life is about to get a little interesting. | I love this series so much and the lengths that the chapters are. I really am going to be sad when this is over. I don’t ever want it to end. 😭

Seal Team

One-Shots:

Imma Take Care Of Your Body by @rebelwrites » Clay Spenser x Reader — Reader is the only female member on Bravo who also has a no strings attached relationship with Rebel. | Let me just say this is hot, like really hot. Give me a glass of water and let me cool down. Thank you Heather for blessing us with this.

Tier One Babysitters by @bravo-four-seal-team » Seal Team; Ray Perry x Naima Perry — Ray and Naima ask the team to watch 6 month old Jameelah. | I promise you will be laughing.

You Are Perfect by @rebelwrites » Clay Spenser x Reader — Clay tells you everything he loves about you. | As a big boned girl this meant a lot and has me wishing for a Clay Spenser to call my own.

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